“The Only Position That God Has Sanctioned”

Don't you dare enjoy it.
Variety? Avoid it.
Just keep a steady pace,
And keep it face to face.
It's just for procreation
And not for recreation.
Remember that love-making's,
Like washing up or baking;
Like hoovering the floor,
A necessary chore.
Don't try to make it merry,
Just keep it missionary!
—Daz

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Radio Recommendations

Thanks to Rustiguzzi for this tip. There's a rerun of series seven of Old Harry's Game, on Radio Four.

And since I'm already on the topic, I've been listening to a fair bit of radio of late, so here's a few more recommendations from the BBC's iPlayer, for anyone interested.

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Wholly Houses: A Non-Zeppelin Post

In my ongoing mission to annoy everybody in the whole wide world, I now turn my attention to Rawk enthusiasts. Specifically, Led Zep fans. A whole Led Zep post, without a single actual Led Zep track in sight! At the very least, it's gonna get up the nose of a certain mackem lassie, should she run across it. And that's a good thing!

Seriously though, there's some good stuff here. Well, I think so anyway. Three covers of their songs, and three they covered. And I'll start with my favourite…

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The Delusional Hutton

For any readers who may have been wondering why I seem to have stopped my series of posts critiquing Bob Hutton's drivel, over at The Hutton Delusion blog, well, frankly, I got bored with it. There's only so many ways you can point out that the concept of prophecy is fundamentally flawed, or that citing the Bible to prove the truth of the Bible is a classic example of circular reasoning, or that if we need God to draw us in before we'll be open to belief, then God is at fault if we're not drawn in. Or, of course, that Bob's go-to argument against any point he finds too complicated to deal with—'The devil has blinded you to the truth'—is a shittier riposte than a riposte made with the Crappy Sword Of Magical Frozen Shit, during a faeces-fight in the shit-disposal facility of a diarrhoea hospital.

And then there's the fact that Bob was beginning, seemingly, to see my critiques as nothing more than free publicity; to the point where he actually had the nerve to complain when I missed a post or two. Talking of which…

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Dear Old Humph

Clicking through YouTube videos of Humphrey Lyttleton's music, I came across this televised recording of the I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue radio show. Humph passed away only nineteen days after making this, which makes the choice of song for his trumpet performance at the end somewhat poignant to say the least. I'll admit to having had something of a lump in my throat during that part.

There's nothing wrong with Jack Dee—in fact he was a great choice of replacement—but damnit, I miss Humph.
—Daz

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Thou Shalt Not Question, Nor Beg To Differ

No blasphemy, no heresy, the evillest instructions:
Do not question, do not differ, are the sense of those injunctions.
Let your brain fall into lockstep; that's the stricture.
Don't deviate, don't try think, just blindly follow Scripture.
And those who think to skip or dance or take another route,
Are pilloried and shot and burned, or crushed beneath the marching boot.
For those who differ, they might prosper, show that other paths
Are just as good, and maybe better, and that you cannot have,
If you're to claim the high ground. But argument breeds doubt!
So you crush and burn the heretics, and cast their ashes out.
Let all who hear their questions, who witness any good they do,
Be left in fear and dread, lest they begin to question too.
You cannot bolster up your claims, reason does not prove you right,
So you turn to 'Just shut up!,' and you back it up with might.
'Blasphemy' and 'heresy,' the evillest of twins;
They do nought but hide dissent; cast honest thought as sin.

There's been a shooting at a Danish free speech conference. Because it's obvious, isn't it, that the reasonable approach to disagreement is to blot it out with blood?
—Daz

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Oh, It’s That Day Again, Ain’t It

How hard can it be to find songs about love? So, in an effort to provide some relief from the inevitable Valentine's Day explosion of schmaltzy pop, here's six you may not have come across before.
—Daz

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Nasty Instrumentals

Six instrumental numbers with a kind of sinister theme to 'em. Because it seemed like a good idea at the time. As ever, feel free, Gentle Reader, to add your own suggestions along the same lines, in comments.
—Daz

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A Historical Date In SF History

And here's the post I wanted to make last night.

Today in 1938 (now yesterday here, but there's ten or so hours of it left in more westerly portions of the globe), the BBC broadcast a live excerpt from Karel Čapek's play R.U.R.. For those who care about such things, this was the first, as far as is known, televised science fiction show.

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Chapel Hill

Elements of this post have been bubbling up in my head for some time now. Well the bubble finally erupted to the surface.

I expect we've all heard by now of the murder of three Muslims, in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. First and foremost, let me say that my thoughts are, as any decent person's should be, with the family and friends of Deah Shaddy Barakat, Yusor Mohammad and Razan Mohammad Abu-Salha. To lose three loved ones at the same time is tragedy enough. To lose them in such a fashion can only, I suspect, be worse, and to lose them at such a young age, with almost their entire lifetimes ahead of them, worse yet.

The murders were, ostensibly, over a parking space. I say 'ostensibly' because, frankly, I don't believe it. I thoroughly believe that such an argument may have been the tipping point, and may well go down as the official cause, but life, and sadly all too often death, is never that simple.

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