Woody Harrelson on feeling like an alien and other wise ponderings . . .

It’s apparently from a 2003 film named Go Further that curiously slipped my I must watch all films that have a green message radar.  Anyway, I came across it on Facebook via Occupy Love and was so awestruck I thought I’d share it.  Appropriate for Earth Day methinks.

I sometimes feel like an alien creature
for which there is no earthly explanation
Sure I have human form
walking erect and opposing digits,
but my mind is upside down.
I feel like a run-on sentence
in a punctuation crazy world.
And I see the world around me
like a mad collective dream.
An endless stream of people
move like ants from the freeway
cell phones, pc’s, and digital displays
“In Money We Trust,”
we’ll find happiness
the prevailing attitude;
like a genetically modified irradiated Big Mac
is somehow symbolic of food.
Morality is legislated
prisons over-populated
religion is incorporated
the profit-motive has permeated all activity
we pay our government to let us park on the street
And war is the biggest money-maker of all
we all know missile envy only comes from being small.
Politicians and prostitutes
are comfortable together
I wonder if they talk about the strange change in the weather.
This government was founded by, of, and for the people
but everybody feels it
like a giant open sore
they don’t represent us anymore
And blaming the President for the country’s woes
is like yelling at a puppet
for the way it sings
Who’s the man behind the curtain pulling the strings?
A billion people sitting watching their TV
in the room that they call living
but as for me
I see living as loving
and since there is no loving room
I sit on the grass under a tree
dreaming of the way things used to be
Pre-Industrial Revolution
which of course is before the rivers and oceans,
and skies were polluted
before Parkinson’s, and mad cows
and all the convoluted cacophony of bad ideas
like skyscrapers, and tree paper, and earth rapers
like Monsanto and Dupont had their way
as they continue to today.
This was Pre-us
back when the buffalo roamed
and the Indian’s home
was the forest, and God was nature
and heaven was here and now
Can you imagine clean water, food, and air
living in community with animals and people who care?
Do you dare to feel responsible for every dollar you lay down
are you going to make the rich man richer
or are you going to stand your ground
You say you want a revolution
a communal evolution
to be a part of the solution
maybe I’ll be seeing you around.

—Woody Harrelson

Tree People – we need you now!

It seems that our unmandated government really has it in for our forests.  They have thus-far failed to slip through a bill that would allow them to sell our woodlands to private firms who would subsequently turn them into a profit-making  commodity.  So now they’re going to revise planning laws making it easier for developers to, well, develop on them.

If we are to believe our government (snigger), these proposed new planning policies will have no impact on our green and pleasant land but their promises will soon be put to the test according this article in today’s Guardian. The writer tells us that Oaken Wood in Kent is potentially at risk due to an application for a quarry extension and this highlights some serious concerns.  From the article:

At stake, under a single application for the extension of an existing quarry, is 32 hectares of ancient woodland, home to rare lady orchids, firecrests and nightingales. Under pressure from conservation groups including the Woodland Trust, and thanks to the efforts of local campaigners, Eric Pickles, local government secretary, called in the controversial application in July last year. It is scheduled to go to public inquiry in November. . . .

. . . . Today, ancient woodland covers just 2.7% of England and is home to more wildlife of conservation concern than any other terrestrial habitat. These woods are irreplaceable and require protection.

For goodness sake folks, you heard him! We don’t have much ancient woodland left in England and when it’s gone, it’s gone! Our woodlands are important on so many levels it’s hard to know where to start but to paraphrase Earl Attlee when asked what plans they had to improve ancient woodland protection in the final version of the National Planning Policy Framework, he said it’s not possible to put an economic value on ancient woodland because it is irreplaceable.

It all takes me back to a time, many moons ago, when I camped out in a beautiful ancient woodland with a bunch of tree-hugging eco-warriors in an effort to stop it from being bulldozed to make way for the M65.  Well, I say camped-out . . . taking food, drinks and blankets each day to the protesters and generally playing a supportive role would be closer to the truth but hey, I was there with the likes of  Swampy, suitably clad in wellies, camouflage trousers and an attitude.

The protesters weren’t all stereotypical tree huggers with dreadlocks and doc-martens but they became known by the locals (who mostly supported them it has to be said) as the Tree People. And these guys were fantastic.  They were radical and inventive and totally committed.  They’d lived in those self-built tree-houses for months and they were determined not to give way.  The stakes were high and their determination was downright heroic. They constructed a woodland network of ropes and tree-top walkways so that they were all connected making it very difficult for the axe-men to chop even one tree down without risking the life of a protester.  As non-violent resisters they suffered many injuries at the hands of the burly security men but they never gave up.  At one point militant-me had a very heated debate with the sheriff of somewhere-or-other (probably not Nottingham) but, being  the mardy-pants that I am, I backed off when two large, grumpy-looking policemen started to walk towards me with intent.  Yep, I was passionately proactive and I really believed in the cause but those coppers looked big and mean and there’d already been several arrests.

Anyhoo, needless to say, we were unsuccessful in our efforts. The inevitable forced eviction took place and those yellow-hats stood smugly by as the activists were dragged ruthlessly from the their tree-houses.  Subsequently, and very sadly, the beautiful woodland, where deer used to roam and wildflowers grew freely, was razed to the ground. And now a dirty, great big concrete motorway sits in its place.

I might have turned into little more than a keyboard warrior since then but I’ll tell you this folks – if our few remaining woodlands are put under serious threat of demolition because of these proposals, I WILL GET OFF MY LAZY ARSE!  I will reclaim my activism mojo!  I will tie myself to a tree and I won’t budge until those bloody useless, self-serving, arrogant set of nobs in government do something positive and permanent to protect our magnificent and vitally, vitally important woodlands.

I kid you not.

Fur Coats Eco-Friendly . . . ?

Fur Coats Eco-Friendly . . . ?

An advert saying that fur is eco-friendly has been banned by an advertising watchdog because it says the ad is misleading. The fur breeders claim that because the fur is a natural product that lasts a lifetime and is biodegradable, they can promote their products as eco-friendly.

Completely misleading

For starters, the chemicals they treat the fur with to preserve and protect it cancel out any eco-benefits they claim exist. Then there’s the environmental damage caused by their farming methods that make their products far from carbon-neutral not to mention the number of animals that the’re taking out of the eco-system to kill and profit from.  But apart from that the fur farmers say that a fur coat will last up to thirty years but can you imagine how matted and manky it would be after being worn by a human for so long.

Anyway, most people who wear fur wouldn’t keep a fashion item for that long. They’d be onto the next design within a year or two and last year’s furry accessory would be discarded without another thought.

Nice try.  I’ll give them that.

Of food and the inaccessibility thereof

Hello!

She’s alive –  she’s beautiful.

Just thought I’d share.

Here’s to activists who, unlike myself, actually get off their arses and take real-life risks in order to try and protect our lovely, good planet.

Amnesty – fifty years today

Peter Benenson, founder of Amnesty International, lighting the first Amnesty candle – the small light of hope.

Thank you Amnesty!  You really have changed the world.  Because of your continuous fight against injustice everywhere the world is now a better place.  Here’s wishing for the time to come when the world no longer needs you.

One Love

Bob Marley

6th February 1945 – 11th May 1981 

Aged 36

Me only have one ambition, y’know. I only have one thing I really like to see happen. I like to see mankind live together – black, white, Chinese, everyone – that’s all.

That’s all.

Not much to ask for.

Simple.  Basic.  Powerful.

Bob Marley – a spiritual force with a desire for peace and justice that was expressed with depth in his music.

I hope you’re jamming somewhere beautiful Mr Marley.  After thirty years without you on this good Earth, your legendary music is still playing.

I Love This

The Power of Words

Change your words. 

Change the world.

Bluebells, Caves, Lakes . . . and not a lot more

Well what do you expect when we get two long weekends back-to-back and the sun shining throughout?  Nothing to do with the fact that my synapses are refusing to fire up and I can’t seem to put anything together that would be worthy of reading.  What’s that saying?  The mind is willing but the . . . erm . . . never mind.  The photo’s will have to do – taken in Rydal Water – a family favourite that we visit often over the seasons.  Although there have been some treason-like mutterings from within recently that go something like . . . not there again!  Can’t we think of somewhere different?  And that’s just the husband!  It’s mutiny I tells ya!

Sack Andrew Lansley

Seriously, seriously!  Why is this guy still here?  His manic NHS mission has been nothing short of shambolic from the very start.  But then, Cameron – the man in a position to sack him – has stubbornly supported his reckless scalpel-wielding all along so he needs to be punished too.

Really folks, he so badly shouldn’t be here now.  He has failed on many levels and the bill hasn’t even gone through yet!  The scale of opposition to this remarkably ideological Health and Social Care Bill is vast yet Lansley and Cameron, in their isolated world of privatisation and non-accountability, continue to arrogantly bulldoze their way through while pretending to listen to the health care experts who are screaming WOAH! at every hurdle.

It’s actually really bad.

But, let me pause for a minute . . . we’re not stupid.  We can see what they’re doing.  I see health care workers on all levels growing more alarmed and I’m confident that these reckless plans will crumble.  Even David Cameron’s spinning skills won’t be able to salvage this bill.

Thing is, the very fact that they pursued this crazy dream of bulldozing the NHS and turning it into a profiteering machine for themselves and their buddies in the first place shows just how inept, uncaring, arrogant, and totally profit-centred these Tory boys are . . .  so we need to stay vigilant.

If we want to see health justice, Lansley, having lost all credibility, must be sacked, the current bill must be scrapped . . .  and Cameron must be slapped across the face, repeatedly, with a soggy dressing that has just been removed from a chronic leg ulceration.  (I have contacts in that department).

Seriously folks, for the sake of the nations health (and my mental health), please let me wake up tomorrow to the news that Andrew Lansley has been fired.

This and that and rather a lot more

It’s increasingly challenging for me to find the time to blog these days so it’s frustrating to say the least when there’s just so much to blog about.  For instance, George Monbiot’s nuclear-powered, shot0gun-held-to-his-head U-turn on nuclear power.  Well he must have had a shot-gun held to his head when he wrote this.  Either that or his body was taken over and possessed by an evil force from the nuclear industry.  I mean how else do you explain such an aggressive change-of-heart from someone who spent most of their life campaigning against nuclear power.  He appears to have based his newly-found affection for nuclear energy on the fact that Fukushima was hit by an earthquake and a tidal wave and didn’t cause a global catastrophe.  Oh!  He plays down his pre-Fukushima stance by describing his then views as nuclear-neutral.  Well that’s a load of tripe!  He was never nuclear-neutral.  He was blatantly anti-nuclear.  Here’s what he said a few years ago…

“…nuclear power spreads radioactive pollution, presents a target for terrorists and leaves us with waste that no government wants to handle.”

There’s loads more where that came from.  Hmph!  Bloody turn-coat.

And what about this quiet little item?  A new EU directive comes into play soon which will give more power to Big Pharma.  More power! I hear you exclaim.  I know!  Anyway, this new directive sounds ok at first glance. Indeed, but there are implications.  A EU-wide ban will be in place in a few months but from the 1st of May, hundreds of herbal remedies that have been used in the UK for decades will no longer be available to people who have been benefiting from their properties.  This of course may result in people trying to get hold of them via the Internet thus making the control of such remedies impossible . . . and there’s also the added risk that some of these Internet-acquired products will be of a much poorer quality.  It’s a big win for the pharmaceutical profiteers but let me just ask the politicians who’ve made this decision (I suspect muchly due to some sneaky hand-shaking and bribery from the drug companies) a question . . . What do you think people were doing to relieve their illnesses hundreds and hundreds of years ago?  And actually, an important thing to consider is that many herbal medicines are taken by healthy people in order to try and prevent illness.  And we all know the saying about prevention and cure.  But there’s no profit in healthy people is there.  Avaaz have a petition up here.

They’d better keep their hands off my herbal tea!!

Is there room to squeeze in a little personal message to David Cameron?  Yes?  Ooh goodie. . . .

David, do be quiet dear.  Do try to stop being such a condescending twit.  I know it’s hard to keep up the facade of nice, popular man-of-the-people but please try harder to hide your real chauvinistic, homophobic character.  We know you were only trying to be funny and clever and that, but you’re not funny and clever.  You’re witless and boring so do hush up.  Oh and David dear, please try to keep that arrogant, snot-faced, creepy little chancellor of yours under control.  His sneering, giggly, immature face is really making me want to vomit bucket-loads each and every time I see it.  Thank you dear.

Speaking of the patronising Cameron, I’m taking bets on how long after the Royal wedding will it be before Shallow Cam starts using the happiness of the event to spin his ideological visions for Britain.

And to finish, I’ll pop up a picture or two, just to keep the place alive, barely, but alive just the same.  Oh and I’ve sneaked a little video in at the end – a party political broadcast of the Green variety.  Go on – vote for the Green party.  You know you want to.

My middlie taking part in the May Pole dancing for St. George’s day.  So there, BNP.  You can stop spreading the myth that celebrating Englishness is being outlawed.

Bolton Abbey Priory.  I took that picture with my broken little Nikon Coolpix L22.  Impressed?  I am.

Newscloud of sorts

Big Fish Rugby Tour in Swansea . Fabulous rugby-playing by our Under 11 boys . Much bad sportsmanship displayed by winning team’s coaches by-way-of entering two teams separately and doing some dubious jiggery-pokery with said teams . Me-laddie getting pushed about by huge brute of a boy of the ginger-haired variety . Me trying in vain to mask my blatant glee when me-laddie got his revenge on aforementioned huge ginger brute by making an enormously heroic tackle on him thus sending him flying into touch and me-laddie going on to score a magnificent try .  Magnificent try disallowed by dodgy and quite clearly biased ref . Gorgeous weather . Lot’s of freckles .  Too much beer . Too much food . Too little time . Late nights/early mornings . Back to work . Off work again! . Lot’s of pain and soreness, mostly caused by a confused immune system that wouldn’t know a healthy joint (that does not need it’s owners immune system to kick in and randomly attack it and all its brother and sister joints thankyouverymuch) from a real live streptococcal throat infection (that actually does require some attention by said immune system . . . and promptly if you pleaseandthankyouverymuch) . sigh .  Much outpouring of misery and feeling sorry-for-oneself . Back to work . double sigh . Much team conflict . sigh, wail, gnash teeth . Lot’s of regret for having returned to work instead of prolonging sickness leave by exploiting existing condition .

Thank the gods of mercy for weekends.

On hating George Osborne

“No attempt at ethical or social seduction can eradicate from my heart a deep burning hatred for the Tory Party. So far as I am concerned they are lower than vermin.” Aneurin Bevan

Did you know that if you google the words I hate George Osborne you get 612,000 results.

I try not to give in to the hate emotion.  I really do.  My mother always encouraged us not to use the word hate when referring to someone we don’t like but it’s not always easy to control those feelings when one takes an extreme disliking to someone.  The old emotions tend to take over the logical, calm side and its not usually a pretty sight.  And dammit, that bloody detestable fella George Osborne has gone and forced me to disrespect my dear mum’s sagely advice by making me hate him with a passion.  A fiery, burning passion.  I hate the Tories collectively but I’m feeling a dark urge to specifically target old Gideon.

There’s even a Facebook page called I hate George Osborne and I really don’t know what’s stopping me from joining.  Dignity probably.  I mean when I’ve done with the hate rant that I’m about to embark upon, I’ll need to salvage any dignity remaining and joining such a Facebook group would only make me feel even more sullied. Kind of like how I feel when I read Melanie PhillPots blog or accidentally tune in to the Jeremy Kyle Show.

So why do I hate him?

Lordy, where do I start?

It’s not just his lamentable and downright spiteful budget or the callous cuts that make me detest this vile person.  It’s the smug, uncaring and grossly arrogant demeanor of the man.  He sneers at people folks.  It’s not an unfortunate act of nature that makes his facial features appear to look sneery.  He really does willfully sneer.  And remember when he poked fun at Nicholas Sarkozy for being short.  Now I’m no admirer of Sarkozy, far from it, but for a politician who should be displaying a mature and responsible public face to make fun of a person’s  physical appearance is a personal and really rather shallow thing.  Not funny at all. Gideon thought it was though.  You can see the egotistical twerp laughing hysterically at his own joke here.  Don’t watch it.  You will cringe. He’s also got away with ageist slurs against Dennis Skinner and homophobic jibes against Chris Bryant – letting slip the true bigoted colours of the Tory boys.

And there’s even more to hate.  It’s not just the deliberate targeting of the poor and the squeezed middle.  It’s the unethical pro-wealthy, right-wing ideology that drives him.  It’s the grim fact that he really does aspire to keeping the poor in their place while preserving the luxuriously elite status of a small group of wealthy people.  It’s his blatant generosity towards big business in the face of those at risk of losing their jobs/homes/benefits.  It’s the stealthy tearing away of workers rights and family-friendly flexible choices so that employers can use people as they wish and pay them rock-bottom wages.

In a nutshell, it’s the fact that he is stubbornly pursuing this Tory ideology of a Thatcher magnitude without ever having won a true mandate.  I really believe he is actually enjoying inflicting this pain.  I hope to goodness the karma gods are paying attention.

I must now go into a dark room and chant a mantra or two, before the hatred consumes me completely.

Erm, it’s been a while . . .

T’is rather hard to know where or how to start when one has been so ludicrously absent from blogs and the posting thereof but I shall give it a go, somewhat sheepishly but hey ho.  No. Actually.  Forget the sheep.  I think I’ll start true to form – with a rant.  Here goes . . .

Yule Tide

Another Christmas has been and gone and I made the same mistakes.  Every year, no matter how much I try to resist, I fall under the spell of consumerism.  Not obscenely so but enough to make for some serious self-berating.  I argue with myself and finger wag at my kids that we’re cutting back this year . . .  don’t expect so much because I really mean it this time!!! . . . but Captain Capitalism always manages to bewitch me at Christmas and forces me to buy all kinds of crap that no-one really needs (and probably doesn’t even want that much if truth be told).  The food wastage alone is a sin of biblical proportions but it’s the whole Xmas package (and packaging!) that gets so mental.  Well what’s done is done.  I tried to be as green and as ethical as possible but if I’m honest I failed on more levels than I care to admit.  Anyhoo, here are some UK Christmas eco-facts:

• Every year some one billion cards are used and only a fraction of them are recycled.
• Almost 3000 tonnes of aluminium foil is used to wrap around the 10 million turkeys we eat every Christmas.
• Almost half of the toys given will be broken or discarded within three months and because most of them will be plastic, they will be destined straight for our delightful landfill sites.
• Approximately 23 million jars of pickles, mincemeat and cranberry sauce will be consumed. If all these glass jars were recycled, it would save enough energy to boil water for 60 million cups of tea but alas only a small percentage are recycled.
• Over 83 square km of wrapping paper will end up in UK rubbish bins, enough to cover an area larger than Guernsey
• [End of rant]

Winterval

The snow queen visited her lovely self upon us for the second year running (well I know we’ve had snow other years but not with any intensity worth mentioning).  T’was another beautiful Winterval with some delightful bright snowy days and our enchanting moon providing some gorgeous nights with its orange silveryness above us (I know. Just use your imagination).  I sometimes find myself wishing I had a really good camera that would do justice to some of the moons I’ve enjoyed this Autumn/Winter.  Mind you, a proper, decent camera would be wasted on the likes of me so my little Nikon will suffice for my limited technical knowledge.  I don’t even use that to it’s full capacity . . . and I dropped it once so now an elastic band keeps the battery cover closed.  I’m really rubbish sometimes. Anyway, some piccies:

Comfort and Joy

Lovely Middlie provided the joy by dancing in the local theatre panto again and of course she was brilliant.  This year it was Mother Goose and it was hilarious.  And in a rare, out-of-character moment, I was actually organised enough to book tickets early enough to get the comfy seats with optimal viewing.

And finally:

The best thing about 2011 is going to be

England lifting the rugby world cup on my rugby-mad son’s 12th birthday.  Yay!

Well that wasn’t so bad.  TTFN folks.

Of spooky days out and broken pinky fingers

Me laddie has been put out of action for a few weeks due to breaking his little finger in two places during a rugby training session.  He had to have surgery to manipulate it back into place.  The orthopaedic registrar informed us that surgery was necessary because the breaks were on growth plates and his finger would not grow properly without the surgery.  They even kept him in overnight and I got to sleep on a chair bed right next to him.  All very dramatic for the sake of a broken pinky finger but we were looked after  very well.  Yep, I experienced for myself the greatness of the NHS, but despite the pledges and the ring-fencing, be in little doubt that the cold, hard hands of Cameron and Giddy-boy will soon be felt around the neck of our beloved NHS.  It’s already happening folks.

Anyway, me laddie . . . the poor boy is gutted.  He can’t play rugby for another four to six weeks and to rub the salt well and truly in, after waiting nervously for weeks for his teacher to make the team announcements, he just got chosen for the the school’s football team and hasn’t been able to play a single game for them yet.  He was chosen to play goalkeeper, the position that everyone usually dreads but I think they gave him that position on account of his catching skills.  Well, probably more likely because, having played rugby most of his life, he kept trying to catch the ball instead of kick it.  He doesn’t mind being goalie though.  Loitering idly whilst picking paint off the posts and wondering what’s for tea suits him splendidly.

Anyhoo, well and truly out of action is where we are right now and even cycling is out of bounds so we’ve been going on lots of walks – just so his stamina and fitness levels don’t walk away altogether never to be found again.

Yesterday we went to Bolton Abbey and to my delight, there were lot’s of Halloweeny things going on which included a pumpkin trail.  My boy, having turned eleven just last week, was a bit disgusted at such childish nonsense but I have a sneaky feeling that his buddy who came along with us unintentionally induced much of that disgust.  So, not one to miss out on anything, I took part myself and just as I thought, it wasn’t long before they were both butting in and shouting out with unreserved excitment whenever they spotted a pumpkin or a witch.  Even the hubby was caught up in it all.  T’was jolly good Halloween stuff.

I even managed to take some pictures of the beautiful Autumn day so, for your Autumnal pleasure . . .