“Stupidity does not consist in being without ideas. Such stupidity would be the sweet, blissful stupidity of animals, molluscs and the gods. Human Stupidity consists in having lots of ideas, but stupid ones. Stupid ideas, with banners, hymns, loudspeakers and even tanks and flame-throwers as their instruments of persuasion, constitute the refined and the only really terrifying form of Stupidity.” – … Continue reading “Kakistocracy: A word we need to revive”
Source: Kakistocracy: A word we need to revive – Amro Ali
Thanks to Sibling3 for sharing this post.
For weeks now, due to some obscure malgorithm, I’ve been pursued by this advertisement:
I begin to feel haunted – just like that fellow in Dr Seuss’ Pale Green pants…
I was walking in the night
And I saw nothing scary.
For I have never been afraid
Of anything. Not very.
Then I was deep within the woods
When, suddenly, I spied them.
I saw a pair of pale green pants
With nobody inside them!
I wasn’t scared. But, yet, I stopped
What could those pants be there for?
What could a pair of pants at night
Be standing in the air for?
And then they moved? Those empty pants!
They kind of started jumping.
And then my heart, I must admit,
It kind of started thumping.
So I got out. I got out fast
As fast as I could go, sir.
I wasn’t scared. But pants like that
I did not care for. No, sir.
I’m looking for a Bickle Bush as I write…
You can see the whole book on YouTube here
I came across this lovely thread a while ago. It began with Robert Macfarlane again, choosing as his word of the day, ‘Helm Wind’ – the UKs only named wind that blows from the North East and pours down off Cross Fell in Cumbria.
In medieval Ireland, the winds were each said to have a particular colour (see Saltair na Rann, a collection of 162 Early Middle Irish poems)
So the north wind is black and the south, white, while a wind from the SSE is greyish-green.
Fascinating enough – then @iandhig adds this from Flann O’Brien – scholar and poet that he was:
‘People in the old days had the power of perceiving these colours…a better occupation than gazing at newspapers’ (From the Third Policeman)
I feel guilty about passing on these conversations – albeit they are public ones but, as John Aubrey says:
How these curiosities would be quite forgot, did not such idle fellowes as I put them down.
Úht-cearu is Saxon for early morning cares. The sort that flood into the mind as it wakes.
Úht-floga is a creature that flies before dawn…
@ClerkofOxford and @RobGMacfarlane
There are worse things than having behaved foolishly in public.
There are worse things than these miniature betrayals,
committed or endured or suspected; there are worse things
than not being able to sleep for thinking about them.
It is 5 a.m. All the worse things come stalking in
and stand icily about the bed looking worse and worse
From Selected Poems (Oxford University Press)
copyright Fleur Adcock