The story of Thanksgiving for non-Americans

It is Thanksgiving in the USA today. Regarding my thoughts following, I want to quote Moonaum James, the organiser of the National Day Of Mourning ceremony in Plymouth,  and say that like him I am

“not against Thanksgiving, but rather want to correct the history of the holiday that suggests that the Pilgrims and Native Americans coexisted peacefully. We’re not there to condemn, and not there to do anything other than point out some truths.”

Most people get the next two days off work, and it is traditional to have a big turkey dinner with the family and over eat. For children, there are often school plays where some of the kids get to play Pilgrims, whereas others have to darken their faces, and wear brown paper bags to play the ‘indians’. It’s all very sanitised, and not even remotely accurate. While the true bloody history may be too much to land on a young kid, I think that these plays reinforce the idea that everything was amicable. It wouldn’t so bad if they later taught the truth, but they don’t. The comments you can see on media posts on this topic highlight just how entrenched the ignorance is. Comments of “the liberals are trying to ruin our holiday”, and “send the indians back to where they came from” are indicative of the refusal to acknowledge the past, a lack of empathy, and incredibly levels of ignorance.

Elsewhere in the country, there are families of Native Americans that are seeing this holiday from a completely different perspective.

Before you cry that these children’s plays are harmless, think on how Indians are portrayed, and the fact that these actions and images affect the American children’s view of Indian culture for the rest of their lives. The costumes worn in the school plays trivialise and degrade the descendants of the proud Wampanoags, whose ancestors attended the first Thanksgiving. These cultural misunderstandings and stereotypical images perpetuate historical inaccuracy. Americans are very adept at rearranging history so that it reflects upon them as a just people, a caring people.  They tend to sweep under the rug anything their ancestors did that the current more enlightened generation feels puts the nation under a bad light.

Around 1614, the Spanish destroyed a Patuxet village and kidnapped many of its inhabitants. In November, 1620, the Mayflower dropped anchor in present-day Provincetown Harbor. After exploring the coast for a few weeks, the Pilgrims landed and began building a permanent settlement on the ruins of the Patuxet village, now renamed New Plymouth. Within the first year, half of the 102 Pilgrims had perished. In desperation the Pilgrims initially survived by eating corn from abandoned fields, raiding villages for stored food and seed, and robbing graves.

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One of the natives captured by the Spanish, Squanto, had been sold to slavery in England, where he worked for a ship building company and learned English. He joined an expedition to explore the New England coast and so made his way back to his homeland. Squanto was introduced to the struggling pilgrims, where he taught them how to hunt and fish, how to plant corn and squash, aiding their survival. Wampanoag is the collective name of the indigenous people of southeastern Massachusetts and eastern Rhode Island. The name has been translated as ‘People of the Dawn’. The Wampanoag leader, Massasoit, had also given food to the colonists during the first winter when supplies brought from England were insufficient.

The native tribes of New England already had a harvest festival where they gave thanks to the Great Spirit for the bounty long before the settlers arrived. In 1621, after their first successful harvest, the pilgrims of Plymouth, Massachusetts, decided to pick up this tradition and had a three day feast. Ninety warriors of the Wampanoag joined the pilgrims and brought with them venison, lobster, fish, wild fowl, clams, oysters, eel, corn, squash and maple syrup – very different to the foods seen on a modern Thanksgiving table.

On May 26 1637, near the present-day Mystic River in Connecticut, while their warriors were away, an estimated 400 to 700 Pequot women, children, and old men were massacred and burned by combined colonist forces. A mere 16 years after they gave thanks the Wampanoag for their survival, aid that without which all those that had landed with the Mayflower would have died, they betrayed their new world friends. The reason for this betrayal was greed. They wanted the land. Colonial authorities found justification to kill most of the Pequot men and enslave the captured women and their children. Pequot slaves were sent to Bermuda and the West Indies. In 1975 the official number of Pequot people living in Connecticut was 21. Similar declines in Native population took place as an estimated 300’000 Indians died by violence, and even more were displaced, in New England alone over the next few decades.

In the following wars, the natives put up a good fight, but were no match for the white man’s superior firearms. As surely as scissors cuts paper, and rock smashes scissors, gun beats arrow. While there is no denying that European settlers took the land by force, weapons alone can’t account for the breathtaking speed with which the indigenous population of the new world were almost completely wiped out. A little known fact is that in the decades between Columbus’ ‘discovery’ of America and the Mayflower landing at Plymouth Rock, the most devastating plague in human history raced up the East Coast of America. By the time the pilgrims started New England’s written history, the plague had wiped out about 96% of the Indians in Massachusetts. Academics estimate that approximately 20 million people may have died in the years following the European invasion – up to 95% of the population of the Americas, killed by and epidemic of Smallpox, brought over by the Spanish.

I like to think that a full population of Native Americans would have effectively called a halt to the proposed invasion of the ‘pale faces’. They had done it before. We know now that the Spanish were not the first Europeans to land in the Americas, that honour goes to the vikings. This fearsome warrior race however, had their butts handed to them on a plate by the Native Americans. The vikings made a go of settling North America in 1005. After landing there with livestock, supplies and between 100 and 300 settlers, they set up the first successful European American colony … for two years. And then the Native Americans kicked their ass out of the country, shooting the head viking in the heart with an arrow.

The eradication of the indigenous people continued for many years. Conservative estimates are that around 12 million Native Americans have been killed since Columbus landed in 1462.  The current population has been reduced to approximately 5 million that claim full or partial native heritage. And this is after numbers have increased significantly. To put it in perspective, it makes up less than 2% of the total population of the USA.

Thanksgiving-Native-Americans

The United American Indians of New England meet each year at Plymouth Rock on Cole’s Hill for a Day of Mourning. They gather at the feet of a statue of Grand Sachem Massasoit of the Wampanoag to remember and reflect in the hope that America will never forget. I fear it already has.

The reason I titled this post as for non-Americans is because I’m sure Americans reading this will think I am pissing on their holiday, but that’s not true. I believe that you should be thankful everyday for what you have.
 
Also, I just want people to consider what was taken from others in order for you to have your holiday – not to make light of it. To acknowledge the mistakes of the past, and look to ensuring they do not happen again. That while you are gorging on the food mountain that is your Thanksgiving dinner, remember the Native American population, who are one of the poorest members of American society, are mourning the death of their ancestors, their culture, and their way of life.
Yes, I am British, and many of the early settlers were British, and while I feel some remorse for what happened, I feel no guilt. My ancestors did not go to America, my ancestors did not partake in the genocide.

 

 

It’s Not Your Penis

bananaThere is a lot of media attention at the moment on the topic of circumcision. This is largely due to protests in the States recently from ‘intactivists’ as they call themselves, looking for legislation to ban the practice of circumcision. I am not entirely comfortable with legislation governing medical procedures on either view point, but I am against circumcision as a routine and unnecessary procedure.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking all those things that you have been taught to think; that’s its safe, that it’s cleaner, more attractive, prevents STDs. Well, I am sorry to say to you that you are wrong on all counts. These are all clichés repeated ad nauseum to the point where people have heard them so often, they believe them to be fact, but they are not. There is no scientific basis to support ANY of these excuses for mutilating a child. Some practitioners argue a small benefit, but the overall cost is not born by them or the parents, but the poor boy who has had his penis snipped. Let’s address these fallacies one at a time.

It’s safe

In the USA alone (one of the biggest perpetrators of this circumcision for non-medical or religious reasons), well over a 100 babies die every year due, directly or indirectly, to circumcision, the most common causes being haemorrhaging or infection. On average, 117 neonatal deaths are attributed to the circumcision procedure. Compare this to 115 that die of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, a terrible occurrence, the prospect of which petrifies most new parents, yet they happily submit their perfectly healthy child to the horror of circumcision. The fear is that the number is actually higher, as many neonatal deaths will be recorded under the indirect cause, so the true scale of the problem remains unrecognised.

It has further been proved that the pain management medication given is completely inadequate in most cases. Usually this procedure is performed within 24 hours of birth, so they are limited to what meds can be prescribed. Brain patterns measured during the procedure have shown that the pain is so severe, for most children, they do not return to normal. While the child may not suffer any physical problems, it can lead to attachment issues and other behavioural changes in later life.

It’s cleaner

At birth, a child’s foreskin is fused to the head of the penis. Cleaning a baby boy’s genitalia is no more complicated than cleaning a girls. You just wipe, and it’s done. As the child matures, the foreskin loosens from the head and becomes more mobile. Your child should be able to pull it back himself at this point and clean it if necessary. Until that stage, it is self-cleaning. The foreskin protects the sensitive glans. The only ‘dirt’ likely to be present is smegma, a build-up of epithelial cells and oils, and a little of this is necessary to keep the glans moist and lubricated.

As they reach puberty, a gentle retraction and wash with water or a mild soap is more than enough.

It’s more attractive

Let’s just forget that you are willing to mutilate a child for aesthetic reasons for a minute and be honest here. Genitals are part of our bodies for functional reasons. Neither intact or cut penises would win any beauty competitions, nor would vaginas for that matter. It is not meant to be beautiful, it is meant to be entirely functional.

One of the long term side-effects of circumcision is that it can cause severe deformities as the child matures. The lack of cover and moisture on the glans causes it to harden (keratinise). Other side-effects include buried penis, meatal stenosis, skin bridges, chordee and poor cosmetic appearance. So, how is this more attractive again?

Other aesthetic excuses are that the child will not look like the father if left intact. Would you advocate rhinoplasty if his nose didn’t look the same? I have also heard that they may be mocked by their peers. In what situation do you imagine your child’s penis ever to become the topic of public humiliation? How would anyone even see it?

It prevents AIDS , STDs and penile cancer

STD are really only a concern once your child is sexually active in which case, buy him some condoms if you are worried, and teach him to be responsible. You should be doing this anyway!

Penile cancer is an extremely rare form of cancer, and smoking is the biggest contributory factor. There has been studies that suggest there are slightly less cases among circumcised men. However, the average age of penile cancer sufferers is 64. Let a grown man make the decision to fractional lower his chances of penile cancer, if he wants to. Don’t do it to a baby “on the chance” he may get it in 60+ years. Breast cancer is a major killer of woman. By this logic, we should be cutting off the breast buds of newborn girls.

What is involved in circumcision?

At less than 24 hours old, your son’s foreskin is fused to the head of his penis. Using surgical tools, the doctor inserts them under the foreskin, bluntly separating the inner lining of the foreskin from the penis head. A cut is made along the dorsal slit and clamps are used until the bleeding subsides, then the loosened skin is amputated, leaving a raw open wound.

When did it become routine?

Our puritanical ancestors were so prudish, they hated everything about sex. It’s a wonder we didn’t die out as a race, really. They tried to remove the pleasure from sex, and make it all about procreation. Nature has evolved humans and other mammals to enjoy sex because you are likely to do something more often if you enjoy it, thus aiding procreation. Part of the process of our developing sexuality often includes masturbation. The puritans believe that if you masturbated then you would be possessed by demons. You all know that’s bullshit though, right?

In an effort to prevent masturbation, circumcision was performed. While masturbation is entirely possible with a circumcised penis, it is not nearly as pleasurable an experience. We all know how sensitive the clitoris is, and this contains 8’000 nerve endings. The foreskin contains 20’000. When you cut off the tip of your baby boy’s penis, you are essentially ruining his sex life. Sure, he can still have sex (as long as he uses lube), but that moment of exquisite pleasure would be vastly greater if you had only allowed him to keep all his nerve endings.

Why do Doctors offer this procedure if there is no medical reason for it?

Money. Religious reasons aside, the most common motivator is money. Isn’t it always? Not only does the Doctor receive money from your medical insurance, but also the foreskin of your previously perfect little boy is sold to companies where it is turned into high-end skin creams. The skin products contain fibroblasts grown on the foreskin and harvested from it. One foreskin can be used for decades to produce fancy face cream like the SkinMedica products hawked on Oprah. All those cruelty-free cosmetics you buy? Some of them are tested on foreskins. This apparently yields better results, since it is human skin.

Still need convincing?
  • Only 20% of the world routinely circumcises (not a third like the outdated figures Wikipedia uses), and while I cannot speak for all of them, I am fairly confident the other 80% of penises are just fine and healthy.
  • Most sensible people, religious fervents aside, would agree that female circumcision is abhorrent, and it is, so I have a hard time understanding why male circumcision is not viewed in the same light. The reason is societal conditioning. I am sure you agree that slavery is wrong, but if you spoke to some white folk back in the 17th century, they would probably think there was nothing wrong with it.
  • No major medical organisation recommends routine circumcision.
  • Your baby is born perfect.

Ultimately, the reason for not cutting off the end of your son’s penis is it’s ethically questionable for parents to make a decision for a child that precludes the child from making a different decision for himself in later life. Pro-circumcision people will always argue about choice. Yes, but as a parent, it is not yours to make. In other words, IT’S NOT YOUR PENIS.

For more information, please visit www.thewholenetwork.org

 

Post Script: May I just add that I am fortunate enough to live in a country that no longer routinely circumcises babies, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t feel passionate educating people on a topic that they are largely ignorant of.

Skyrim: The Movie

Back at the end of 2012, I picked up the next instalment in the Elderscrolls series of video games from Bethesda, called Skyrim. The main selling point for me, along with the great reputation set by the previous games in this series, was that you could become a werewolf. I can tell you now, there is no greater joy than being able to fight a dragon as a werewolf.

I prefer my RPGs in a fantasy faux-medieval setting, and Skyrim is probably the most beautiful game I have ever seen. When I first played the game, wandering around the vast landscapes, I found I would regularly turn a corner to be greeted with a breathtaking view. Throw in the fact that Skyrim, a land in the fictional continent of Tamriel, is riddled with Nords (read Norsemen) makes it even more appealing. I have a weakness for all that Viking stuff.

I played the game all the way through, exhausting every quest and so started to drift and lose interest. The release of some DLCs got my interest, but annoyingly when I tried to play the new content my game would crash. I gave up. The solution I read was to have a completely new install. I intended to do this, but didn’t get around to it until recently.

I am now wondering why I ever left the game. I have found myself falling in love with it all over again.

Since there has been talk recently about a project in development for a feature movie of Assassin’s Creed, I started to wonder if there was a movie in Skyrim? I think there is. The most interesting quest chains, for me anyway, are the Companions, the main quest chain, and of course, the civil war. This would make for a spectacular movie, with a bit of a love interest thrown in.

With thoughts of a movie in hand, I started to think of a dream casting. Here are my suggestions.

liam-mcintyre-spartacus Male Dragonborn – Liam McIntyreLiam proved he can handle a sword in his part as the lead in Spartacus. He is young and fit, but mature enough to look battleworn, and world weary.
tumblr_static_mira Female Dragonborn – Ellen HollmanAnother cast member from Spartacus, and that is Ellen Hollman who played Saxa, a fierce warrior in Spartacus’ slave army. She has a grace and strength to her, that would be perfect for a female nord dragonborn.
seanbeanasnedstark Jarl Balgruff – Sean Bean
I am always happy to see Sean on screen, and there is something about him that suits the faux medieval look.
220px-Dennis_Quaid_TIFF_2,_2012 Kodlak, leader of the Companions – Dennis Quaid
Almost 60 years old and still in fantastic shape, Dennis Quaid has the required gravitas and physique to play the role of Kodlak
23662932-black-and-white-portrait-of-a-hot-muscular-male-model-on-rooftop Farkas – mystery male modelI have no idea who this model is (if you do, then please tell me) but as soon as I saw a picture of him on the cover of a book, I was struck by how much he looked like Farkas. The dark hair and pale eyes, muscular form and strong jaw were very reminiscent of my favourite Nord.
JENNIFER MORRISON at The Prism Awards in Beverly Hills Aela – Jennifer Morrison
Jennifer Morrison is more familiar as a blonde, but as you can see from this picture, she makes a very fetching red head. I think she has the beginnings of reasonable muscle tone, so with a little work she could do a very good representation of the bad ass huntress
146840271JK101_8th_Annual_A Vilkas – Wes Bentley
Wes Bentley is a fine actor who does not get nearly enough screen time. He would be perfect for the part of Vilkas, the slighter and grumpier brother of Farkas
draco Ulfric Stormcloak – Mads Mikkelsen
This character is actually voiced by Vladimir Kulich, but I always think that Mads would be great in this role. He has that whole Viking thing going on, and would be believable as the leader of the rebels
Callum-Keith-Rennie General Tullius – Callum Keith Rennie
Callum first came to my attention in BSG. He is an actor that will be able to pull off the serious but effective general of the Imperial forces.
christopher-plummer-image-4 Arngeir – Christopher PlummerChristopher actually voices the character of Arngeir, and I don’t if its because of this, or that the developers made a concious effort, I think Arngeir does actually look a bit like him.

 

 

Book Conventions – Fan event or Industry Circle-jerk?

I shall be attending World Fantasy Convention 2013 in October, in Brighton, and despite looking forward to it enormously – especially seeing Joe Hill (SQUEEEEEEEEEEEE!!) – I think that this will be my last con for a while. Why? Because its seems the business of books stopped being about reading and readers.

I have been to several cons now, and always go there bright eyed and bushy tailed, but by the end of it I leave there feeling slightly inferior, unnoticed, and unimportant. I am fed up of going to a convention, meeting someone new who, when I respond to the question ‘what do you do’ with ‘I am just a reader’, having them immediately discover they have somewhere far more important to be. I am not saying that any link in this ridiculously large chain isnt important, I just want to know when was it decided that out of all the people involved in the genre fiction community, the readers, the ones that hand over their hard-earned cash, are the least important.

I always assumed that conventions were a fan event, an opportunity for fans of a particular genre to get together and geek out over their favourite books, authors etc. It may well have started like that, but it seems that it is now more of an industry circle-jerk where wanna-be authors clamor for the attention of established authors, editors or agents. Established authors really only seem to hang with other established authors, forming their own inner circle in the giant circle-jerk. The mid ground is occupied with publishers, editors and agents, and the poor old readers are left on the outside, unsuspecting performers in a bukake-fest. It is quite honestly like being back at highschool, with the cool kids not talking to the nerdy kids, and everyone trying to get the attention of the school jock.

Add into this all the strops, flounces, willy waving, toy throwing that goes on the community. The internet, and even social media, has accomplished some wonderful things, but it has also given a platform for petty people to air their gripes. I try and operate under a ‘if you wouldn’t say it to their face, don’t say it on the internet’ policy, but not everyone does. Most people seem to use the internet as a screen to hide behind while they fling poo, from their lofty and imagined position of entitlement.

I just want to get back to liking books. To reading books I enjoy and not worrying about if it was written by a man or a woman. Or whether the characters are portrayed as a sexual stereotype or not. Personally, I feel this is a ‘taste’ thing, and should be down to the reader to decide if they want to read that or not. I want to go back to gushing over favourite characters, sobbing when they die, feeling jubilant when they succeed.

I don’t want to go to conventions only to find that the topic of books has been cast aside in favour of the topic of panel gender bias, or fake reviews, or whether an author should be allowed in the fan forums. I am quite simply, as a reader, not fucking interested in all the toys being thrown out of prams anymore. It is making the whole scene look petty and childish. Meanwhile, literary authors look on in with even greater disdain than usual, tutting at the SFF community’s behaviour as if we are the Big Fat Gypsy version to their Downton Abbey.

I will say however, that I have made some truly lovely friends at cons, including a few authors who do actually take the time to acknowledge the readers, but they are rare and elusive beasts. Conventions are expensive, especially when you factor in hotel and travel. I think I would be better spending my money elsewhere.

Maine… the way life should be

iwanttoliveinmaineThose that know me, know that I have a long standing love of all things pertaining to Maine. You would think that it would have waned over the years, but no. Its only gotten worse with each passing year. What people really find surprising when they discover my love for the state is, that I have never been there.

‘How can you be obsessed with somewhere you’ve never been?’ they ask. May I direct you towards the millions of fans of Tolkien’s Middle Earth for example. The Lord Of The Rings’ mythical landscape is as beloved as its characters.

The obvious difference between Maine and Middle Earth though is that it is a real place, yet has featured as the back drop to many a fantastical tale. This is half the reason I love the place.

At an influential age, I whiled away many hours with my nose in a book; Dean Koontz, Neil Gaiman, James Herbert, but my all time favourite was Stephen King. All those familiar with Mr King will know that he is a lifetime resident of Maine, and often sets his books within smalls towns in his home state, or in the neighbouring New England states such as Vermont or New Hampshire.

In later years, there seemed to be more and more TV shows that had a fantasy or supernatural element that were set in Maine; Dark Shadows, The Ghost and Mrs Muir, Kingdom Hospital, Murder She Wrote, Haven and most recently, Once Upon A Time. There have also been several episodes of Supernatural in the area.

This curious collection of weird piqued an interest in the New England area as a whole.

When I started to look into the area, there were many things that caught my eye. The architecture for one is charming, from the low broad frames of the Cape style, the turrets and towers of the Queen Anne style, and the broad sweeping roofs of the Shingle style.

The wildlife is amazing, creatures that I will never see here in the UK; bears, moose, coyotes, and even wolves. The landscapes has vast wild swathes. Beautiful vistas of mountains, lakes and forests. Acadia National Park is deemed to be one of the most beautiful places in the world. The unspoiled landscapes are preserved by the fact that, despite having a square mileage comparable with England and Scotland combined, there are only 1.5million people there. That’s like Birmingham and Sheffield combined, or a fifth of London. There is literally no bugger there.

Being someone who doesn’t exactly love crowds, this appeals to me.

Its not just the weird, or the breathtaking scenery that I love. There are other reasons I would love to visit Maine one day:

  • The place is filthy with blueberries. I love blueberries. They are probably my favourite fruit.
  • The climate is comparable to the UK, though a little drier, so you get the pleasant summers and winters with lots of snow. I love snow.
  • Despite having Republican senators, its considered a reasonably liberal state
  • Whoopie pies! Need I say more
  • The accent – unless you have heard it, you cannot fully appreciate how different the Maine accent is to the rest of the US. The way they pronounce the short o’s and don’t roll their r’s is more like English English, than American English.

 

 

 

Why I won’t apologise for being an atheist

BGYnNApCcAAdzBx.jpg largeReligion. It’s like a penis – it is great if you have one, but it is not appropriate to wave it about in public.

It’s a funny old thing. If asked what religion you are, how do you define that? Some people unthinkingly will fill out a census form, and list themselves as Christian, simply because they were christened as a baby, yet haven’t set a foot inside a church since they were a baby.

I want to take an opportunity to answer some of the questions posed to me in the past by theists who seem to find my lack of religion their business.

Why does it bother you some people have faith?
It doesn’t really. I hate the belief, not the believer. However, while some theists are quietly faithful, and while it may not affect me directly, it does still concern me because there is an increasing trend to teach creationism, for example, as fact. It is not fact. It is not even a theory. The definition of a theory is a hypothesis that is backed up by scientific evidence. So creationism is a hypothesis at best. For example, irrefutable scientific evidence proves that the Grand Canyon started forming over 17 million years ago. Yet, visitors to this natural wonder can find leaflets left by religious groups claiming it is only several thousand years old, and was formed by Noah’s floods. It concerns me that children are being indoctrinated to believe in a creator that we have no proof exists. The scary thing about this is they are being taught laws and commandments that are supposed to be the word of god, but they are the word of men. Greedy, misogynistic, racist men. Then, you get the fundamentalists. They can be found in every faith, I am not suggesting they are particular to Christianity by any means. However, its only fundamental Christians that have ever treated me as lesser in some way for being an atheist.

Can you be good without god?
I was once accused of having no morals, simply for not having a faith. This was from a woman that it was later found had conducted a 7 year affair behind her family’s back.  I know that it is not right to murder, or steal. I don’t not do these things out of fear of retribution from some higher power, I don’t do them because I know they are inherently wrong. I strive for the advancement and betterment of the human race. I can do this without some absent parent deity figure, thank you.

But you can’t prove God doesn’t exist
This is a favourite response from theists of all denominations. The saying, “absence of evidence is not evidence of absence” IS a tired old cliché and completely misses the point. We should also note that absence of evidence is not evidence of existence. If it were, then we may as well start believing in invisible pink unicorns too.  The overwhelming majority of atheists do not make the positive claim that ‘gods/goddesses do not exist’. Most atheists merely don’t believe the positive claims made by theists, that ‘gods/goddesses do exist’. This is usually due to lack of evidence to support such theistic claims. They don’t believe in invisible pink unicorns for exactly the same RATIONAL reasons.

The fact is, there is neither evidence nor proof, for any of the gods that are, or have been, worshipped throughout the history of mankind.  Many philosophers/theologians have attempted such proofs. In nearly every case they ended up being left trying to prove some vague deistic ‘god’. As attempting to prove, or find evidence for, any of the gods actually worshipped is obviously impossible, due to both lack of evidence and the irrational unsupported claims that surround them. Even then their reasoning didn’t hold up to logical scrutiny.

 My God is the true God
Feel free to believe in any old nonsense that you choose, or in any god/goddess or multiples thereof but, without evidence, don’t try and claim that such beliefs are rational (unless you are using the term ‘rational’ in it’s very broadest sense of ‘conscious’). If you are a theist reading this, ask yourself why don’t you believe in any of the thousands of other deities that have ever been worshipped? You now have the answer as to why I don’t believe in yours. What ever your faith is, there is a good chance you didn’t choose it. Cultural influences, childhood indoctrination and local religious dominance are the real deciding factors. If you were born in Southern India you will almost definitely be a Hindu. If you were born in Saudi Arabia, you will almost definitely be a Muslim. Rationality (even in a broad sense) plays little part in deciding most people’s religious identity. This in turn feeds the zeitgeist and so the cycle continues.

Ultimately, the exist of lore surround multiple deities from once distant cultures proves to me that none of them exist. If there was one true (or multiple) deity, then all cultures would have formed with the same theistic doctrines.

I am offended by your lack of belief
Religion is one of the only areas of human activity where to question claims made without evidence is portrayed as insulting, or abusive. It’s also one of the only areas where people are willing (eager even) to accept claims based on no evidence. People will continue in their beliefs, even where they are contradicted by hard evidence from the sciences. That is, until their religion itself eventually (reluctantly and far too tardily) bows to the pressure of such evidence and conveniently adjusts its dogma, so as to not look totally idiotic.

There is a reason why ‘faith’ is absolutely central to most religions. Faith equals belief without evidence, or in spite of evidence to the contrary. Without faith, the claims of religion fall apart like the illogical, irrational structures of fancy that they actually are. Faith is ignorant, unfounded and unsupported belief. In no other area of human society are such thought processes and ignorance elevated to virtues, as they are by religion.

I confess to scratching my head, when religions support the existence of a deity in some shape, which they expect their followers to believe in blindly, yet when one of those same followers purports to have spoken to said deity, they are shunned as lunatics or mad men.

Why are you an Atheist?
Technically, we are all agnostic, as no-one knows for sure. There’s always a possibility, but possibility and probability are different, and the probability is practically zero, given the available evidence or the lack thereof.

You could also argue that we should all be ignostic, as before we can discuss “God” we must adequately define God. If asked, I claim to be an atheist (or more accurately a secular humanist), based on the gods/goddesses postulated by humans so far. I am atheist because upon investigation I personally find no real evidence of the divine origin as detailed in any scriptures. But also, because I cannot as a humanist, take to my bosom as a daily guide a book of such low morals and degrading influences.

Everything that so many people think transpires from the supernatural, things that perplexed our ancient ancestors, have a natural and material foundation in the workings of our solar system. It is ignorance of the scientific working of our own natures and mind that keeps so much “mystery” in the air; and as long as there is a mystery afloat the ignorant people will ascribe it to the supernatural.

I am an Atheist because I know the Bible. I have tried it, and found it wanting. In fact, I found in the scriptures the origin of misogyny, and that it was one of God and Jesus’s main points to oppress women and keep them in the realms of ignorance.

I am proud to call myself an Atheist because of its elevating principles, its broad road to freedom of thought, speech, and investigation.

Why Werewolves are more McAWESOME than Vampires

This afternoon, I had an argument on twitter with the fabulous Lou Morgan about which is more awesome – Vampires or Werewolves. She is absolutely lovely, so this was all completely good natured, and not an argument really – more of a discussion.

Let me just get this clear right now – NEITHER of us were talking about the sparkly vamps or native shapeshifters from Twilight. We are both true fans of the horror genre, and so if you haplessly stumbled upon this blog and are a fan of that particular franchise … I suggest you move along.

In the discussion, Lou was firmly on the side of the Vamps, and I am afraid Were-fans, that I just couldnt change her mind with 140 character. I, of course, am whole heartedly on the side of the Weres.

Lou’s love of the Vamps started with David from The Lost Boys. A classic film from the 1980’s, and one of which I am also a huge fan of, and indeed I own two tshirts in homage to the movie. If you had asked me back then, I guess I would also have probably been on the side of the Vamps, but then I was going through a bit of a teen gothy stage (one some would say I am still in). The Lost Boys’ vamps were cool, and punky. They were the bad boys you wanted to fancy that you knew would piss off your parents. They never showed remorse or suffered any guilt over treating humans as a food group. They portrayed a life of endless joy rides, with no responsibility and no consequences. It was all just a big laugh to them.

This attitude was really refreshing, particularly when the previous model of vampire was based on oh-so-serious Bela Lugosi’s Dracula. An undeniable classic, but not really one for my generation. The Lost Boys I think, was the first time it was ‘okay’ to fancy Vampires.

But then, things got spoiled. Along came Lestat and Louis.

Now, don’t get me wrong – Lestat and  Louis were interesting characters, and extremely well realised. There was a time when I voraciously read Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles, and others of that ilk such as Poppy Z Brite. However, there was always something niggling at me – Vampires shouldnt be a character we empathise with. They are not tortured souls we should fall in love with. MY kind of vampires were cruel, reckless, and evil – real creatures of the night. The Vamp myth was further de-fanged by Buffy & Angel, Laurell K Hamilton’s Anita Blake stories, and the final nail in the coffin for me was the Twilight Saga and all the copy cats this has spawned.

It all just makes me want to puke.

At about the time when I was losing faith in Vamps, a highly stylized fantasy horror film came out called Underworld. It was a breath of fresh air to me. Despite that fact the main protagonist still fell into the popular sexy goth vampire mould, on the most part, the Vamps were selfish, manipulative and plain evil – even if ina slightly camp way (yes, I am looking at you Bill Nighy). The Weres in this film were also ultimately portrayed as the victims in this endless war. I started to remember how much I actually enjoyed Werewolf films. I remembered watching ‘American Werewolf In London’ on VHS when I was about 11 or 12 was a particular highlight. Then later, getting out The Howling from our local video store that didnt care I wasnt over 18. The Werewolf had once again caught my eye, as well as a certain Welsh actor … but we are not here to discuss that.

My top 5 reasons why Werewolves are more McAWESOME than Vampires:

1. The origin for European Vamps is from Vlad the Impaler, a dude reported to have got rid of the beggers and homeless in his town by putting them all in a building and setting it alight. Werewolves, however, have many origins that are often linked with nature, or possibly from berserkers that used to fight dressed in wolf hide – either is good.

2. It is undeniable that the Vampire is uncommonly strong, but against a Werewolf in wolf form, he would get ripped to tiny icky pieces before he so much as straighted his cravat.

3. Werewolves are people too. They only change into their wolf form once a month, and as a woman, I can totally relate to suffering a monthly curse, and that it is probably best not to provoke me during this time. Vampires are Vampires 100% of the time, and so will always be eyeing up your neck when they fancy a snack.

4. Werewolves are hot – and by that I mean they are warm-blooded. They are warm, soft, fuzzy, and outdoorsy. They can go out in the daytime with you, and you can even take them to meet mom and dad for dinner, without fear of them thinking your little brother is the entrée course. Vampires only go out in the daytime, and are cold and hard, effete, and smell like a grave.I know which I would prefer to cuddle next to on a cold night.

5. Werewolves turn into wolves, which are awesome. Loyal, protective and work well in groups/packs, the Werewolf is the ideal family man. Vampires turn into bats. Creatures that have a certain ugly/cute thing going on, but have a very high risk of carrying rabies. Plus, the Vampire is often a solitary, and terrotorial creature. Not a great long term prospect.

Finally, I give you the picture round.

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The Silver Bullet (1985) – a review

As part of a 80’s horror revival I am currently working through, I ordered Silver Bullet on DVD. I found it on Amazon, and it was only available on PAL as a Dutch import, so although the sound was in English, there were annoying subtitles but I tried to ignore them.
My husband, Pablocheesecake to his viewers, regularly reviews our cinema viewings and while I don’t often blog, never mind review, he urged me to give it a go this time.
In case you are unfamiliar, the basic premise of the story is as follows. The small town of Tarker’s Mill in Maine is plagued by increasingly gruesome murders. The films opens to the narration of Jane Coslow, and only her wheelchair bound younger brother Marty Coslow (Corey Haim) has figured out that the culprit is a werewolf. His hero and Uncle, Red (Gary Busey), makes him a super fast petrol powered chair, named The Silver Bullet. Despite the fact Sheriff Haller ( – Terry O’QuinnLost’s John Locke) has imposed a curfew, Marty sneaks out late one night on his new chair to let off some fireworks, as the town’s 4th July celebrations were cancelled due to the troubles. He is confronted by the werewolf, but narrowly escapes on his hi-speed chair after firing a rocket into the creature’s eye. The next day he manages to convince his older sister to search the town for someone with an injured left eye as proof of his story. She is reluctant to believe him but is convinced when she runs into Revered Lowe (Everett McGill) sporting a bandage over his eye. The two of them then work together to convince Uncle Red that the werewolf is real. He makes them a silver bullet out of their jewellery, and arranges for Marty’s parents to be out of the house on the night of the next full moon, where the 3 of them lay in wait to confront the werewolf.
The story itself was based on a Steven King novella “Cycle Of The Werewolf“. I can’t say how closely this film resembles the novel as I cannot recall if I have ever read it. I imagine I have, but it would have been some time ago. I had a voracious appetite for horror books as a youngster, and was particularly fond of Mr King’s work and still am to this day. Despite a few novels that kinda strayed from the path, I still count some of his works amongst my all time favourite horror novels.

When compared to more modern werewolf films such as Dog Soldiers or Underworld, the makeup and special effects of the werewolf appear quite hammy. I think there is only one scene in the film where you get to see the entire werewolf. The rest of the time, it is partial shots – a hairy clawed arm as it swipes at a victim, or a hint of a beastial head with a light spot on a malevolent yellow eye. In its defence, it was made in 1985, but I can’t help wishing that they had perhaps hired the god-like special effects guy, Rick Baker (The Howling, American Werewolf In London) as this would have given the film a much needed boost.
The relationship between Marty and his sister is not untypical of millions of young girls who are burgeoning into womanhood, yet feel embarrassed and held back having to care for a younger sibling. She makes it clear that she feels that Marty is given preferential treatment by his parents due to his disability, even claiming quite openly that “you always take his side because he is crippled”. Even Red, who basically acts as a father figure to Marty despite there being a father present, criticises his sister for molly codling the boy too much. She seems very much fixed on the fact that he is disabled, and considers her drunken brother a bad influence on Marty, yet Red is the one that seems to fire Mary’s self confidence and encourage his independence. In the closing narration, after their showdown with the werewolf, the viewer is made aware that the bond between brother and sister strengthens.
Ultimately, this film tries to be a horror film, but doesn’t quite pull it off. For instance, I find the character of Reverend Lowe more sinister as a man, than as a wolf. Rated 18 at the cinemas in the UK (cert 15 for DVD) there are a few moments where the tension builds nicely but one thing that stuck out for me, was the odd choice of language. For instance, there is the occasional ‘Fuck!’ but most of the time, they seem to substitute expletives with less offensive curse words which just don’t quite fit the mood of the scene. It is obviously highly censored and suffers for it. I think this is probably due to the fact that the US has always been more sensitive about swearwords on film and TV than in Britain. For example, Marty’s sister, Jane, after being scared by him and his friend Brady, calls him a ‘little booger’. I can’t help thinking that in the UK, they would have gone with ‘little bastard’.
The acting in this film, particularly from Haim and Busey,  is spot on. A 14 year old Corey Haim displays the promise that made him one of the go to child actors throughout the 80’s. Busey is a legend as always, playing that slightly manic red kneck that he does so well.
Despite my very few criticisms, it is still a highly enjoyable film, and if you have not seen it then I recommend that you hunt out a copy. It is still one of my top 5 werewolf movies of all time.
One of my favourite scenes is where a mob goes looking for the killer after the brutal murder of a young boy, Marty’s best friend Brady. In creepy moonlit woods, with the mist swirling around their waists’ a small posse of the vigilantes are attacked and picked off by the werewolf. Local bar owner Owen (Lawrence Tierney) brings along his baseball bat with the words The Peacekeeper carved into it as his weapon of choice. When he is attacked by the werewolf, you see his arm rise from the mist with the Peacekeeper in hand, and valiantly proceed to batter his opponent. The fight pauses for a second, a small scream, and then a hairy clawed arm appears out of the mist holding the Peacekeeper which is then used to bludgeon poor Owen. Dark humour… tis my favourite kind of humour.

The BAFTAs; or London and Back Again part 2

Continued from Part 1

As the sky started to get darker, the lights seemed to get brighter. All the other spectators were looking as anxious and excited as I was when the first limo pulled up. Men and women walked up the red carpet to the waiting horde of PAs/Assistants that seemed to be milling around the red carpet aimlessly. I had no idea who they were unfortunately, but I believe they were the technical guys, producers, writers etc…. all the guys that make the actors look and sound good.

The crowd buzzed with rumours of who was supposed to show tonight. Some said that Uma Thurman was expected, other said Dustin Hoffman would be making an appearance. There was also rumours that Meryl Streep may even show… none of them did. Well, they didnt ‘do’ the red carpet anyway. I have seen pictures of Uma and Dustin at the event, so they must have snook in the back way.

The first ‘real’ star to show up was Anna Kendrick who generously signed a lot of autographs. She was quickly followed by Sharlto Copley who was having so much fun running around signing autographs. He was just adorable, and seemed to find as much delight in signing the autographs as those lucky ones receiving them. The number of faces started coming thick and fast. Some positively sprinted up the red carpet (Quentin Tarantino, Kristen Stewart, Carey Mulligan) while others signed as many autographs as they could before being dragged off by PAs to pose for the professional press.

Roughly in order of arrival (at times it got so chaotic, that I know that there were ones I missed), after Anna and Sharlto, we had;  Christoph Waltz, Matthew Goode, Quentin Tarantino, Matt Dillon, Noel Clarke, David Puttnam, Olivia Williams, Kirsten Scott Thomas, Jeremy Renner, Peter Capaldi, Joely Richardson, Vanessa Redgrave, Kristen Stewart, Tom Ford, Jason Isaacs, Aaron Johnson & Sam Taylor Wood, Nicholas Hoult, Armando Iannucci, Tahar Rahim, Jane Goldman, Terry Gilliam, David Baddiel & Morwenna Banks, Anil Kapoor, Claudia Winkleman, Colin Firth, Anne-Marie Duff, Andy Serkis, David Morrissey, Nick Frost, Jonathan Ross, Mackenzie Crook, Mark Kermode, James Corden, Kate Winslet, James Cameron, Mickey Rourke, HRH Prince William, and last Robert Pattinson.

Jamie Campbell Bower & Bonnie Wright whizzed by at some point, and so did Guy Pearce who was almost unrecognizable with a total shaven head.

The BAFTAs; or London and Back Again – Part 1

A few months ago,when I heard the date of the BAFTAs Film awards, I decided that it would a great adventure to go and join the throng of fans on the red carpet. I know people that have done this for the TV BAFTAs but lets face it… film is more my thing.

I had no idea who would be attending when I made this decision, although of course, I was hoping that Michael Sheen would attend, as I knew he had presented an award the previous year. Shortly after, the ‘long list’ of nominees was released, and I could barely contain my excitement to discover his name was listed. However, disappointment abounded when the ‘short list’ was finally released, and his name was sadly omitted.
Oh well – the train tickets were bought, time booked off work, and the hotel reserved. I hoped that he would still attend, but never the less, there would be plenty of other actors for me to ogle.

A few days prior to the event, I discovered that the day we were due to travel to London, James Purefoy would be appearing at the Forbidden Planet on Shaftesbury Avenue, for a signing to promote his latest movie Solomon Kane.

It was an opportunity too good to miss. Mr Madnad had already expressed a desire to go to Forbidden Planet, which I hadnt objected too but wasnt quiet as excited as him, but this news made the whole idea sound far more tempting.

When we arrived there was only a small queue, so we tagged ourselves onto the end. Would you believe it – 10 mins after we joined the queue, a guy came along and stuck a camera in our faces. ‘EEK!’ I cried, and immediately declined the kind offer to say a few words about Solomon Kane. Mr Madnad however, was willing to give it a go.

Yes, he is the guy with the red hair.

That excitement over, we continued to await our turn to see the Purejoy (as he is known in our house).

My copy of the Official Movie companion held tightly in my sweaty little mits, I finally got to the front of the queue. I sheepishly handed it over to James, who signed it with a smile, and kindly agreed when I asked if I could take a picture. He put on his best ‘smoulder’, as you can see from the picture below. Ladies, I dont know what it is that he has, but it exudes off him in bucket loads.  It certainly had me dumbstruck. Desperate to say something quick, and witty, I only managed to mumble a thank you and shuffled off. Naturally, the further away from Forbidden Planet, the more ideas I had. ‘Oh, I should have said… ‘ etc etc.

We had a good browse around the book section, and manage to walk out with only 3 books – which for us, was pretty good.

We checked into the hotel and had a couple of hours taking it easy reading in our room, then went out for a walk and to grab some dinner. Our hotel was not far from Russell Square so there was plenty of restaurants around but in the end we plumped for something reasonably familiar and went with Pizza Express.

After dinner we headed to a nearby pub and stopped off for a drink. We didnt exactly paint the town red, but we had gotten up pretty early that morning, and knew that we had a long day tomorrow and so decided an early night was probably a good idea.

The hotel we had chosen was based on location, and cheapness. After the first few hours on a bed that had the thinnest mattress and was sat on floorboards that sloped upwards, and listening to the traffic that sounded like it was only a foot away, driving by the single glazed windows, I decided that it had been a bad move. At 6:30am, after a sleepless night for the both of us, we got up and dragged our tired asses down to the Theatre Royal to collect our wristbands.

We got there just before 8am and was surprised at the number of people already queuing, in fact several were in tents and sleeping bags – quite obviously having been there ALL NIGHT!!! I admit, I was concerned that we would not get a wristband, but we joined the end regardless, and stood there waiting… and of course, it started to rain.  Once the queue started moving, we only had to wait about another 45 mins before we got ours…… aaaaannnd relax.  The friendly security guards gave us our numbered wristband, and directed is to return at about 1:30pm, and that they would not be allowing us access to the red carpet until 3pm, so we had a few hours to kill.

By this time, the rain was pretty heavy, so we walked up to Covent Garden where we got a lovely breakfast at Tuttons. We spent the next few hours looking around the Garden, and hopping in and out of coffee bars, and pubs to dry off and get warm.

At the appointed time, we returned to the Theatre Royal, and commenced queueing … again. At 3pm they started letting us up to the barriers in number order. Unfortunately, there were 250 people ahead of us, so we didnt get a front row spot as I had hoped. To make matters worse we seemed to be surrounded by autograph hounds, the kind that get celebrity autographs just to sell on – make a quick buck. They guarded their positions fiercely, and basically made it impossible for genuinely interested fans to get close to their heroes.

Mr Madnad and I tried to remain as positive as we could, and waited for another hour or so, before the first star arrived.

To Be Continued in Part 2.

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