Buckfast

Eleanor Roosevelt claimed that ‘Great minds discuss ideas, average minds discuss events and small minds discuss people’. This is a pretty shallow thing to say. Seems to be having possession of a great mind is what she’s enamoured with, ahead of whatever use it might be put to.

It also expresses contempt for the small minds. You’d have to be widely acknowledged as being a Great Mind yourself to be permitted to call people dicks like that. That it was ‘Eleanor Roosevelt’ who came out with this used to baffle me. Some First Lady? Was it before or after tea and cakes that she made this pronouncement?

In any case, the quote and the general sentiment have always gotten under my skin. And my parent’s skins even more so. It’s why they have an unused ‘good’ front room with little bronze statuettes of cherubs, tasseled lampshades and sofa set and a very huge, ornate, gilt-framed mirror above the fireplace right out of Louis XIV’s Court. Just within a normal, green-carpeted, suburban house.

I covered ideas two posts ago, talking about feminism. Then I did Brad Pitt- people. So now I’d like to complete the set. It’s actually a thing I want to talk about, not an event. Why does she not include things? I’ll just assume things come under events for her. The thing is Buckfast. Buckfast is a drink associated with urchins of all kinds, be they students, working class folk of the track-suited variety, punks and other reckless sorts, right up to homeless people. And also people who like to buy into all that, for a few hours anyway. It’s a ‘fortified wine’ with a caffeine content higher than Red Bull and tastes like delicious sugary medicine. It’s so thick it leaves smears on the glass and it’s exactly the colour of blood.

What’s odd about it is that it is manufactured exclusively by the Roman Catholic Benedictine monks of Buckfast Abbey in Devon, England. This is stamped right on the label. When I was younger I just assumed I was missing something. Surely the Roman Catholic monks aren’t REALLY churning out this rocket fuel? There’d be some story to explain it. But it turns out there’s not. And they are. It’s just one of those brazen things. Hiding in plain sight.

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Social Media Feminists: Spoilt First-World F***s?

Why does feminism as I encounter it on the internet annoy me so much? It makes me livid. Now, ‘Yesallwomen’ live in fear of rape or assault, or whatever. Actually, the females I know and like report not feeling that way particularly. So don’t presume to speak for them ya bunch of milquetoasts. Is your wee head wrecked from feeling slightly put upon walking down the street? You poor thing. Hard ‘aul life!

To be fair I’ve become more aware of my bad habits. Tonight for instance I kept my eyes down, feeling servile, as a hot female jogger passed me. No EYEFULS. Yet I remember walking through the crowded city center a couple of months ago with a tall, good-looking guy from my (ex) work and woman after woman was looking him up and down and eyeballing him. THIS IS A HUMAN BEING HERE! Is what I didn’t think for a second. I just felt shit to realize there’s this whole hyperactive sexy world going on that I’m not privy to and likely never will be. And all you women will pay for that with your blood, actually.*

They use academic style language, taking their cue from smart people who might have the odd valid point or two. They’re forever involved in ‘discourse’. This is a great way to make people second-guess themselves and bully them out of the discussion. It also masks a lot of the nonsense they talk. For every point you might actually consider, there’s five shit-stirring ones. There’s nothing worse than a fool with a cause. Like me now, they’re getting a pretty cheap thrill from having a rant in public. But unlike me they’re at it all day every day, literally. And the culture of it has made me much more ready to be on the defensive and sometimes offensive with women, which I resent a lot.

*This is an ironic reference to that guy who went on a rampage on Santa Monica I think, and said that all the women who rejected him had to pay with their blood.