Had a convo with a friend on Twitter that just about summed up post-modern theory in half a dozen tweets. It was prompted by her remark that she was ashamed of being a human and would like to change species - something I can relate to. Further convo went as follows:
S: Have you heard of Otherkin...?
V: I have. I don't know much about it, mind. What I have heard sounds slightly barmy.
S: Post-modern subjectivity trumps everything. If you feel like an elf, then you *are* an elf.
V: But who knows what an elf actually feels like??
S: It doesn't matter what an elf feels like. What matters is your subjective belief that you feel like an elf.
V: There is so much wrong with that concept, isn't there?
Yes, yes there is.
Tuesday 22 September 2015
Sunday 20 September 2015
Sunday Morning at the Church of the Poisoned Mind
Mirror neurons are brain connections which trigger both when you do something, and when you see someone else doing that thing. They're implicit in the empathy response. You see someone else hurt and, if your mirror neurons are functioning correctly, you'll wince.
I've come to the conclusions that either a) mirror neurons are completely atrophied in most modern humans or b) most modern humans have devolved to the point where they see all other humans as "Other". I've been led to that conclusion by the increase in the everyday acceptability of graphic violence; its value now is not to shock, but merely tittilate.
I think this is partly the result of violence-as-entertainment. Most of the violence we see is "Hollywood" violence; it's made up for camera. No-one really hits anyone, the bruises are make-up, the gore is red paint, the bullets are blanks. At the end of the shoot, the director bids the dead to rise and they do, no physical harm done.
Looking around on social media these days though, and it seems that people in general view all violence as make-believe: it elicits no empathy response; it doesn't horrify, it merely thrills, in a toxic, shadenfreud kind of way. At worst, images of real hurt, real distress, real violence, get thrown around to justify the wallowing in a kind of collective vainglorious morality: people RTing pictures of dead babies to show how much they suddenly "care" about a conflict that's been going on for over 4 years.
On a more everyday level, people share pictures of real severed limbs, real dead bodies, real flayed skin, real agony. What is going on in their brains that they think this is OK? They can't be genuinely affected or they wouldn't be able to keep looking at this stuff, much less want to share it. The only reason I can think of - seen mostly on animal activist feeds - is that you want to hurt the people you see as being responsible for the harm by forcing them to view it. But that's not a relevant explanation for most of the images that are shared. Mostly it seems to be enjoyment. There seems to be an evil thrill of glee that goes far beyond shadenfreud: joy in someone's real distress, and joy in the power to cause distress in others by forcing them to view it. All the while claiming "I'm promoting this because I care". What utter bullshit.
There's a parallel here with the virus hoaxes that were very popular about 10 years ago. Ignorant people wilfully frightening others while claiming the moral high ground while they did so. But no-one controls what you believe; and many people were educated when I got those e-mails because I'd hit "Reply all" and set them straight.
But you can't control what someone dumps in your social media feed, and if someone hasn't done it before you're going to get hit at least once before you can block them. For those few of us whose mirror neurons are working fine or working double shifts, someone springing a vile image has consequences, whether that image turns out to be real or not. And I do wonder if this is, ultimately, what's driving the practice. In an individualistic, violently capitalist, consumer-driven culture, empathy isn't just uncool, it's actively threatening. For the person committing violence-by-graphic-image, most of the people they hit won't, long-term, be any more affected than they are. The people who will be damaged are likely the people who are damaged already, either through mental/emotional sensitivity or because they've experienced actual harm in the past. The practice weeds out the first group, keeps the seond group down, and ensures everyone else stays desensitised.
I've come to the conclusions that either a) mirror neurons are completely atrophied in most modern humans or b) most modern humans have devolved to the point where they see all other humans as "Other". I've been led to that conclusion by the increase in the everyday acceptability of graphic violence; its value now is not to shock, but merely tittilate.
I think this is partly the result of violence-as-entertainment. Most of the violence we see is "Hollywood" violence; it's made up for camera. No-one really hits anyone, the bruises are make-up, the gore is red paint, the bullets are blanks. At the end of the shoot, the director bids the dead to rise and they do, no physical harm done.
Looking around on social media these days though, and it seems that people in general view all violence as make-believe: it elicits no empathy response; it doesn't horrify, it merely thrills, in a toxic, shadenfreud kind of way. At worst, images of real hurt, real distress, real violence, get thrown around to justify the wallowing in a kind of collective vainglorious morality: people RTing pictures of dead babies to show how much they suddenly "care" about a conflict that's been going on for over 4 years.
On a more everyday level, people share pictures of real severed limbs, real dead bodies, real flayed skin, real agony. What is going on in their brains that they think this is OK? They can't be genuinely affected or they wouldn't be able to keep looking at this stuff, much less want to share it. The only reason I can think of - seen mostly on animal activist feeds - is that you want to hurt the people you see as being responsible for the harm by forcing them to view it. But that's not a relevant explanation for most of the images that are shared. Mostly it seems to be enjoyment. There seems to be an evil thrill of glee that goes far beyond shadenfreud: joy in someone's real distress, and joy in the power to cause distress in others by forcing them to view it. All the while claiming "I'm promoting this because I care". What utter bullshit.
There's a parallel here with the virus hoaxes that were very popular about 10 years ago. Ignorant people wilfully frightening others while claiming the moral high ground while they did so. But no-one controls what you believe; and many people were educated when I got those e-mails because I'd hit "Reply all" and set them straight.
But you can't control what someone dumps in your social media feed, and if someone hasn't done it before you're going to get hit at least once before you can block them. For those few of us whose mirror neurons are working fine or working double shifts, someone springing a vile image has consequences, whether that image turns out to be real or not. And I do wonder if this is, ultimately, what's driving the practice. In an individualistic, violently capitalist, consumer-driven culture, empathy isn't just uncool, it's actively threatening. For the person committing violence-by-graphic-image, most of the people they hit won't, long-term, be any more affected than they are. The people who will be damaged are likely the people who are damaged already, either through mental/emotional sensitivity or because they've experienced actual harm in the past. The practice weeds out the first group, keeps the seond group down, and ensures everyone else stays desensitised.
Friday 28 August 2015
Overdose
Putting this here for reference. Because I've had an intolerance to MSG/aspartame/glutamate for years and this is the second time I've been caught out in the last few months. Note for anyone finding this via Google: these are my symptoms; others' may vary.
Classic MSG symptom: extreme skin soreness, especially on upper arms. Oversensitive teeth.
Classic glutamate toxicity: flushing (to the point of feeling like sunburn), headache, palpitations, throbbing teeth.
It now appears there may be other glutamate toxicity symptoms: pins and needles, muscle twitches, potentially visual disturbances.
Treatment: orange juice (contains high free glutamate but other chemicals in there protect against it), Andrews salts, Epsom salts. Epsom salts are said to be the most effective treatment. Also taurine (Red Bull) but as that can cause health problems I don't fancy trying it.
Testing Epsom salts today - the muscle twitches have stopped and the palpitations seem much reduced.
Have previously tried orange juice and Andrews salts, that took a 2-3 day attack down to 3 hours.
Possible natural causes: do NOT eat these multiple days running, or in combination:
Cheese
Mushrooms
Slow-cooked (or repeatedly re-heated) red meat - think a pot of chilli, for example
Grapes
Tomatoes
Peas
Nori (the seaweed covering on sushi rolls)
Classic MSG symptom: extreme skin soreness, especially on upper arms. Oversensitive teeth.
Classic glutamate toxicity: flushing (to the point of feeling like sunburn), headache, palpitations, throbbing teeth.
It now appears there may be other glutamate toxicity symptoms: pins and needles, muscle twitches, potentially visual disturbances.
Treatment: orange juice (contains high free glutamate but other chemicals in there protect against it), Andrews salts, Epsom salts. Epsom salts are said to be the most effective treatment. Also taurine (Red Bull) but as that can cause health problems I don't fancy trying it.
Testing Epsom salts today - the muscle twitches have stopped and the palpitations seem much reduced.
Have previously tried orange juice and Andrews salts, that took a 2-3 day attack down to 3 hours.
Possible natural causes: do NOT eat these multiple days running, or in combination:
Cheese
Mushrooms
Slow-cooked (or repeatedly re-heated) red meat - think a pot of chilli, for example
Grapes
Tomatoes
Peas
Nori (the seaweed covering on sushi rolls)
Thursday 27 August 2015
Twitter: doesn't play well with others
However. There's a lot that's a pain in the arse about Twitter as well. When I revisited it this last time, I decided that 1) I'd use it for work, if I decided to go in that direction, and 2) it had to be fun. That hasn't quite worked out.
It has been really useful for getting some types of info that I wouldn't have come across otherwise. Unfortunately, it all started hitting the fan again and I wasn't sure why. (It was also taking up a shed-load of time.) I uninstalled Twidere from my phone and stayed off for a few days, and had a think.
I'm fairly introverted. (This may qualify for the understatement of 2015.) I can be, and am, social, but it has to be with smaller groups, of the right people: I don't need agreement but I do need good faith; I can do small talk but really don't see the point; I would rather spend my time with people who think about stuff. In "real life", so-called, I employ filters pretty rigorously, carefully control how much time I spend in groups, police boundaries and ensure recovery time. Even good groups and fun times can lead to overload (and illness) surprisingly quickly.
What occurred to me was that, regarding Twitter, I'd pretty much abandoned all of that, relying on the "distanced" nature of textual communication to provide the necessary filters and barriers. Of course, it doesn't work like that; it's a recipe for rapid overload.
So I've gone back, unfollowed a few people there was no point following, put about 95% of people I follow on one list or another, and muted pretty much everyone who isn't humourous, interesting, or a personal friend. Some of those lists require more mental/emotional energy than others; at least this way I can dip into them as and when I feel able, and limit my exposure. The signal-to-noise on the main feed should improve, which means I shouldn't miss the posts I actually want to read, and the people I want to interact with.
I've also realised that "armchair activism" is perilously close to no bloody activism at all - especially when it's linked to Twitter's tendency to preach to the choir (as most people tend to follow those of a similar belief set). This was re-inforced by a friend who said, pretty much - yes, it's shit and you need to do something about it, but you need to choose where to put your energy. Get out there and make the changes - and that doesn't have to be activism per se, just working out where your energy is best put to use, i.e. work from the ground up. So I shall try that, I think, and try to make a real small difference where it's safer to do so. Which isn't to say I won't be active online, but I'll be trying to order my online life far more like my offline one. If I go quiet, you can always send me an e-mail.
Wednesday 15 April 2015
A heads-up for Blogger users
It has come to my attention (the hard way) that Blogger has started using an insane new style of captcha. The sound version is incomprehensible and the written one may take a dozen tries to get through. I don't have captchas turned on for this blog (I never usually get comments anyway, and moderation is turned on for any post over 14 days) but if you do, you might like to check that, depending on the number of comments you get; if you have "word verification" enabled, it might well deter human commenters.
I was quite surprised, checking the settings, that moderation isn't particularly granular; unlike other systems, there's no way, for example, to specify you want to moderate commenters for the first post or two, after which they're considered ok. Moderation is either always on, or based on age of post (by default, posts aged over 14 days). If you have a high-traffic blog, that makes moderation almost useless to keep spam at bay, leaving word verification as your only option. I have a nasty (and rather cynical, but not necessarily incorrect) feeling that this particularly user-unfriendly captcha is a ploy by Google to get people to take anti-spam measures off their blogs - as making money through spamming is what Google is all about.
Edit: I've had a Google fan point me at a link to Google's new no-captcha captcha system, which sounds grand in principle but clearly is not fully operational. It's still not clear why I was presented with a captcha in the first place as I was logged in, commenting on a blog where I'd commented before, and the post was a recent one.
I was quite surprised, checking the settings, that moderation isn't particularly granular; unlike other systems, there's no way, for example, to specify you want to moderate commenters for the first post or two, after which they're considered ok. Moderation is either always on, or based on age of post (by default, posts aged over 14 days). If you have a high-traffic blog, that makes moderation almost useless to keep spam at bay, leaving word verification as your only option. I have a nasty (and rather cynical, but not necessarily incorrect) feeling that this particularly user-unfriendly captcha is a ploy by Google to get people to take anti-spam measures off their blogs - as making money through spamming is what Google is all about.
Edit: I've had a Google fan point me at a link to Google's new no-captcha captcha system, which sounds grand in principle but clearly is not fully operational. It's still not clear why I was presented with a captcha in the first place as I was logged in, commenting on a blog where I'd commented before, and the post was a recent one.
Tuesday 31 March 2015
Moving again, metaphorically
Not actually, thank the gods. Both Paul and I have discussed this, and have decided we never want to move again. We'll make do with what we've got.
But that doesn't mean we can't improve it - and those changes are finally under way. Having waited since last October, a couple of weeks ago we got the plumbers in and the maze of pipes crossing the dining room walls have gone, replaced by one neat copper rising main and two neat water pipes coming down in the far corner to enter the kitchen. Unfortunately, one gas cap was on a T-piece, and so couldn't be buried in the wall; but that's the wall with the two water pipes that need boxing, so we might just batten and plasterboard it, and skim over - swapping 30mm for a smooth wall. The ceiling's an horrendous mess, but that was always going to need re-doing.
We're now waiting on the builder to fix the roof and take part of a wall down. (He was supposed to do us a quote back in January. We're still waiting.) This is somewhat embarrassing to the plumber, who recommended him, and is poking him with a stick on our behalf. The only reason I'm not pushing it is that the next couple of weeks are going to be mental, work-wise; and I'd rather space the stressful events out a bit, much as I'd like everything to just be done. We should get there by summer, fingers crossed. (The garden is a different matter, but you can usually get away with letting it ride for the first year, just to see what comes up. The forsythia we didn't know we had was a nice surprise when it started flowering last week!)
But that doesn't mean we can't improve it - and those changes are finally under way. Having waited since last October, a couple of weeks ago we got the plumbers in and the maze of pipes crossing the dining room walls have gone, replaced by one neat copper rising main and two neat water pipes coming down in the far corner to enter the kitchen. Unfortunately, one gas cap was on a T-piece, and so couldn't be buried in the wall; but that's the wall with the two water pipes that need boxing, so we might just batten and plasterboard it, and skim over - swapping 30mm for a smooth wall. The ceiling's an horrendous mess, but that was always going to need re-doing.
We're now waiting on the builder to fix the roof and take part of a wall down. (He was supposed to do us a quote back in January. We're still waiting.) This is somewhat embarrassing to the plumber, who recommended him, and is poking him with a stick on our behalf. The only reason I'm not pushing it is that the next couple of weeks are going to be mental, work-wise; and I'd rather space the stressful events out a bit, much as I'd like everything to just be done. We should get there by summer, fingers crossed. (The garden is a different matter, but you can usually get away with letting it ride for the first year, just to see what comes up. The forsythia we didn't know we had was a nice surprise when it started flowering last week!)
Sunday 8 March 2015
Quire of Paper
We didn't get to do Pancake Day this year. We vaguely remembered, late, but Paul wasn't bothered and I was unwell. Finally we got round to it today - mainly because we'd been in the market for a decent omelette pan for a while, and actually went out today and got one.
This year I'd seen a couple of recipes for old-fashioned (read: 18th century) thin pancakes, including a recipe for Thin Cream Pancakes (otherwise known as the "Quire of Paper") in Mary Norwak's book on English puddings. I changed the propertions of the book's recipe.... just because, really. It looked like it might be a bit greasy with the butter, but it didn't seem to have enough egg in it. The following made about 20 thin pancakes in an 8" omelette pan.
Ingredients
1/4 pint (5 fluid ounces) thick or double cream
1/4 pint milk
2 ounces butter
3 ounces plain flour
2 eggs, beaten
2 tablespoons brandy - a bit more wouldn't hurt.
Vanilla sugar (granulated or caster) for sprinkling
Optionally, you could add a little orange juice or grated orange zest for flavouring.
You could use half a pint of single cream instead of the double + milk, but that was what I had.
Method
Melt the butter and allow to cool (though not re-solidify).
Put the milk and cream together in a jug and whisk to mix.
Put the flour in a bowl. Add the beaten egg and mix. Whisk in the milk and cream mixture.
Add the zest of an orange if using.
Whisking constantly, pour the butter into the mixture in a thin stream.
Add the brandy and whisk again.
There's no need to let the batter rest before cooking.
Warm a plate (or individual serving plates). Sprinkle with a small amount of vanilla sugar.
Pre-heat the omelette pan to a little over medium (say, 4 out of 6) and melt a little butter in it. Put a small amount (about a tablespoon) of batter in the pan and swirl around to cover the base very thinly (it probably won't reach the edge). Expect this pancake to fail horribly, but it's soaking up excess fat in the pan and helping stabilise the temperature. You can eat this mini-pancake if it cooks successfully, but otherwise don't worry too much. The batter is very rich so you shouldn't need to add any more fat to the pan.
Pour about 3 tablespoons of batter into the pan and swirl around to thinly coat the base. (This was fairly easy for me as I've got a mini ladle holding that amount; failing that, use a 1/4 cup measure but don't fill it to the top - 1/4 cup = 4 tablespoons, or 60ml.)
Leave it. Don't touch it. The edges will start to dry rapidly and start to curl up like paper. Wait until the surface sets, then the pancake will appear to "sweat". When this happens, run a thin spatula round the edge of the pancake and loosen it from the pan. If the pancake starts to bubble before the surface dries, the pan is too hot. Turn down the heat a notch and/or remove the pan from the heat. It's no biggie, just be aware the pancake will colour faster.
When the pancake can be shaken easily around the pan, use the spatula to gently flip it over. It won't take long on the other side. When it can be shaken easily in the pan again, gently transfer to the plate. Get the next pancake on the go, and while it is setting, sprinkle a little sugar over the previous pancake, now on the plate.
Repeat in this fashion, piling up a stack of pancakes, sprinkling a little sugar in between each one. Depending on how long you cook them, they will look either like paper or parchment, complete with crackly, curly bits round the edges.
According to Mary Norwak, the original had over a pint of cream and 9 eggs in it, as well as more butter, but the same amount of flour. That would make an incredibly thin batter; this version is rich (but not overly so) and not too difficult to work - though I wouldn't try tossing these pancakes. Take care when you turn them as they do have a tendency to flop about.
This year I'd seen a couple of recipes for old-fashioned (read: 18th century) thin pancakes, including a recipe for Thin Cream Pancakes (otherwise known as the "Quire of Paper") in Mary Norwak's book on English puddings. I changed the propertions of the book's recipe.... just because, really. It looked like it might be a bit greasy with the butter, but it didn't seem to have enough egg in it. The following made about 20 thin pancakes in an 8" omelette pan.
Ingredients
1/4 pint (5 fluid ounces) thick or double cream
1/4 pint milk
2 ounces butter
3 ounces plain flour
2 eggs, beaten
2 tablespoons brandy - a bit more wouldn't hurt.
Vanilla sugar (granulated or caster) for sprinkling
Optionally, you could add a little orange juice or grated orange zest for flavouring.
You could use half a pint of single cream instead of the double + milk, but that was what I had.
Method
Melt the butter and allow to cool (though not re-solidify).
Put the milk and cream together in a jug and whisk to mix.
Put the flour in a bowl. Add the beaten egg and mix. Whisk in the milk and cream mixture.
Add the zest of an orange if using.
Whisking constantly, pour the butter into the mixture in a thin stream.
Add the brandy and whisk again.
There's no need to let the batter rest before cooking.
Warm a plate (or individual serving plates). Sprinkle with a small amount of vanilla sugar.
Pre-heat the omelette pan to a little over medium (say, 4 out of 6) and melt a little butter in it. Put a small amount (about a tablespoon) of batter in the pan and swirl around to cover the base very thinly (it probably won't reach the edge). Expect this pancake to fail horribly, but it's soaking up excess fat in the pan and helping stabilise the temperature. You can eat this mini-pancake if it cooks successfully, but otherwise don't worry too much. The batter is very rich so you shouldn't need to add any more fat to the pan.
Pour about 3 tablespoons of batter into the pan and swirl around to thinly coat the base. (This was fairly easy for me as I've got a mini ladle holding that amount; failing that, use a 1/4 cup measure but don't fill it to the top - 1/4 cup = 4 tablespoons, or 60ml.)
Leave it. Don't touch it. The edges will start to dry rapidly and start to curl up like paper. Wait until the surface sets, then the pancake will appear to "sweat". When this happens, run a thin spatula round the edge of the pancake and loosen it from the pan. If the pancake starts to bubble before the surface dries, the pan is too hot. Turn down the heat a notch and/or remove the pan from the heat. It's no biggie, just be aware the pancake will colour faster.
When the pancake can be shaken easily around the pan, use the spatula to gently flip it over. It won't take long on the other side. When it can be shaken easily in the pan again, gently transfer to the plate. Get the next pancake on the go, and while it is setting, sprinkle a little sugar over the previous pancake, now on the plate.
Repeat in this fashion, piling up a stack of pancakes, sprinkling a little sugar in between each one. Depending on how long you cook them, they will look either like paper or parchment, complete with crackly, curly bits round the edges.
According to Mary Norwak, the original had over a pint of cream and 9 eggs in it, as well as more butter, but the same amount of flour. That would make an incredibly thin batter; this version is rich (but not overly so) and not too difficult to work - though I wouldn't try tossing these pancakes. Take care when you turn them as they do have a tendency to flop about.
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