Jordan's Ginger Baby

Pneumatic British glamour model Jordan has taken time out from her busy schedule of self-promotion to pop out a sprog - inexplicably called Princess Tiaamii.

The shocker? Little Tiaamii (who we will refer to hence forth merely as The Baby) is ginger.

"I don't know where the ginger came from," Jordon (real name Katie Price) explained. "I love her anyway, even if she's a ginge."

Wonderful. Nothing like seeing scores of headlines about how shocked and presumably disappointed the chavvy topless model and her drippy husband are about spawning a redheaded baby. This poor kid's condemned to abuse anyway, since she'll be growing up in England with the curse of ginger hair. The fact that her parents are a national joke will surely only add to the embarassment. And the name?

Parents can be so cruel.

In Jordan's defence (I actually have a grudging respect for the savvy blonde) she did admit this: "Actually, I think when people are horrible about people with red hair, that's as bad as being racist."

Maybe the birth of The Baby will bring about a new era of tolerence for redhead Brits. But considering an heir to the throne got teased for his ginger locks at Eton, I wouldn't bank on it.

Militant Ginger

Now I'm living in civilisation, I'd almost forgotten one of the major driving forces behind this blog - my intense annoyance at the ridiculous prejudice British people have about redheads.

But word of this prejudice seems to have followed me across the Atlantic. On Yahoo this morning, the Americans were reporting on what they dubbed 'Ginger Phobia.'

You can see the ABC news story about it here.

One of their most amazing claims was that Prince Harry got bullied at school for his red hair. His comrades in the army apparently call him The Ginger Bullet Magnet and his girlfriend refers to him affectionately as: The Big Ginger.

I mean, this is the guy who's forth in line for the throne! Show some bloody respect!

The American reporters on this item seem incredulous. I can't blame them. Picking on somebody for the colour of their hair is crazy enough - but for the Brits to do it?

But the British reporter, who actually narrates the piece, has that same, snide, snotty lilt to his voice that we've all heard when exploring this particular issue. As Dan Wright, presenter of F*** Off, I'm Ginger, told me: We don't want to make it too serious.

That's why all reports about ginger prejudice are littered with puns, jokes and references to 'ginger nuts.' It's a serious issue that nobody in Britain is willing to take seriously. Why? Most likely because it reveals a nasty streak about British culture that loves to pick on people who are different.

As Charlotte Rushton says in the news item: A redhead stands out; and a nail that stands out gets hammered down.

Babbage to the Future

Yesterday was a lovely day.

It was swelteringly warm and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Tina and I managed to get things accomplished (this doesn't happen very often) and then we decided to head out to our local pub for the first time.

Because we're both very keen on being sensible and saving money, we hadn't gone out before and just the simple act of walking through Babbage Park to a good old fashioned American steakhouse and pub, on nearby George Street, seemed like a real extravagance. I can't remember a cold pint of beer ever tasting so good. Except the second one.

Buoyed up with foamy goodness, we then returned to Babbage Park where the local church group had set up a big screen to show Back to the Future. Tina and I grabbed a blanket from our house (which overlooks the park) and then enjoyed free popcorn and one of my favourite movies out in the starlit park.

I've always loved Back to the Future. I think I was obsessed with it when I was a kid. It's fun and exciting and the scenes set in the fifties are wonderfully nostalgic. Micheal J. Fox was young and vibrant back in the eighties and boy could I relate to him every time his time-travelling DMC Delorean refused to start (since this happens to me on a regular basis. Well, not the time travelling part.) It reminded me of all the things that fascinated me about America when I was growing up. All these years later - here I am.

Tina I snuggled up and enjoyed the movie. When we walked back afterwards, listening to the crickets humming, I decided that this was probably one of the nicest days I've had since coming back to America.

I think one of the problems with modern life is that everybody WANTS things. Complicated things. Unrequited love. Unlimited money. Firm abs. Calorie free pancakes.

Yesterday reminded me that real happiness doesn't need to involve much. Two pints at Happy Hour. Free popcorn in the park. One of my all time favourite movies and somebody to enjoy it with. Sometimes, the simpler a pleasure is, the more you enjoy it.

Americans are the worst drivers in the world, ever.

Just how terrible American drivers are is something that continues to amaze me.

They are just so astonishingly, universally bad at driving in New Jersey, I'm surprised the federal government hasn't confiscated all our cars and demanded we ride around on donkeys instead.

The sheer awfulness of the average NJ driver encompasses many levels.

First off, there's just the bad driving - like nobody actually educated people how things like the brakes, indicators, steering etc. could all be operated in synchronisation. People are just bad at driving cars. Most motorists can't even handle the simple task of staying in one lane of traffic - they drift back and forth over the white lines like a drunk stumbling down the street. Nobody indicates when they turn. Nobody indicates when they change lane. Nobody actually bothers looking to see if a car is presently occupying the space they intend to move into.

This is probably why NASCAR, the American national motor sport, consists of nothing more sophisticated than driving around in a circle for five hundred miles.

The second level of 'bad driving' is the average driver's attitude. Driving isn't considered a privilege like it is in England. Here owning a car is your God given American right, just like owning firearms. Driving that enormous Lincoln, I know how it feels to be 'King of the Road' when you're behind the wheel of a good, solid American car. But many America drivers act with total disregard for other road users.

The stunts they pull astonish me. Pulling out of blind corners. Cutting people up. Tail gating. Speeding. How there aren't more accidents astonishes me. It seems the only rule on American roads is that you can't let any accidents you cause be declared 'your fault' or it'll hurt your insurance premiums.

For the millions of illegal immigrant road users, who have no insurance, I guess there are no rules.

Drivers here in New Jersey don't care about other road users. They show no courtesy, generosity or concern. They'll happily drive you off the road if it means they're one car length in front of you by the time you reach those traffic lights.

The final level of bad driving involves distractions. Whether it's driving drunk, which seems to carry no social stigma here, or talking on your mobile phone, Americans seem to love 'multi-tasking.' People put on their make up while driving. They read books. They upload songs to their iPods. With modern 'sidekick' mobiles, drivers even send emails while cruising at 55!

Whether it's a trip to the super market or going cross-country to California, driving on American roads is just plain dangerous. I have never driven more slowly or more attentively than driving here in New Jersey. When you're behind the wheel, you can never anticipate when the drivers in front and behind of you will pull some kind of f**kwitted manoeuvre and put your life in danger.

It's making me a better driver - but a terrified one.

Potter the Otter

I have a terrible confession to make. I haven't bought or started to read the latest Harry Potter book yet.

The truth is, I just haven't got around to it. They were selling them in Walmart for $20, but that seemed pretty expensive compared to the £6.57 editions they were flogging in Sainsburys, back in England. So although Bloomsbury have already shifted 12 million copies of The Deathly Harrows, none of them belong to me.

But I am totally behind it. What an incredible phenomenon Harry Potter is. Just yesterday, I was chatting to a colleague of mine who was clutching his copy of Harry 7 - he was 300 pages in.

"I never read a book," he told me, "until my girlfriend made me read Harry Potter."

And he's been an addict ever since.

Which is pretty incredible to me. J.K. Rowling has managed to seduce an entire generation into reading again. Forget iPods, the Internet, cable television and satellite radio... Right now, the coolest 'must have' gadget is a 700 page hardback book.

Here's one take on Potterdom from Owen Gieni and Chris Cosby's inspired webcomic Sore Thumbs.

The Power of Positive Thinking

"Your focus determines your reality." Qui-Gon Jinn, Star Wars: The Phantom Menace

Important life lessons, like loyalty, bravery and how to defeat a Rancor monster, can be learnt from watching George Lucas' Star Wars films. But can the teachings of fictional Jedi Master Qui-Gon (played by Liam Neeson) be put to practical use in the real world?

Currently, the opinion is 'yes.'

Because Qui-Gon's throwaway comment to young Anakin Skywalker actually stems from a real philosophical concept. The Power of Positive Thinking.

It was Buddha who originally said: "What you have become is the result of what you have thought." That's the philosophy behind the Jedi 'faith.' Ironic, really, since the Electoral Roll recently revealed that Britain now has more registered 'Jedis' than Buddhists.

Buddha's words were meant to teach us that our life and our destiny can be determined by only one person. Ourselves.

Whether you consider yourself 'born lucky,' or your path is constantly cris-crossed by black cats, the 'positive thinking' message suggests that we all subconsciously draw negative or positive energy to ourselves. The universe secretly grants us what we desire most - and if you're a gloomy person, those desires manifest themselves as the 'bad luck' you've already expected to befall you.

It's a philosophy called 'The Law of Attraction,' which has been a popular New Age fad since William Walker Atkinson first wrote about it in his 1906 book "Thought Vibration or the Law of Attraction in the Thought World."

Recently, in a piece of marketing genius, the idea has been packaged up as "The Secret," a pseudo-scientific book and DVD claiming that this 'positive thinking' message was coveted and buried by the Catholic Church and was the power behind great minds like Galileo, Einstein and Leonardo Da Vinci. It's a shameless rip-off of the Da Vinci Code - right down to the cover, which is very similar to editions of Dan Brown's book published after the 2006 movie came out.

Cynicism aside, I have grown quite fond of 'The Secret' since I heard about it. Whether you believe your thoughts can influence the universe or not, a bit of positive thinking can do us all good. And the crazy thing? I think it might just actually work. But not for the reasons The Secret claims.

The philosophy behind The Secret is simple. There are three steps. Knowing What You Want, focusing on Getting What You Want and Accepting What You Want.

Whatever you believe, undertaking these three steps generally leads you in the direction of your goals. Just like Qui-Gon Jinn told Anakin - your focus determines your reality - if you take a moment to focus on what you actually want (instead of flailing about in general dissatisfaction, like most of us do) you actually star the journey towards achieving it.

Do you want money? Fame? Power? Love? By focusing on what you feel is lacking from your life, you develop something to strive for. And one major source of dissatisfaction in people's lives is a lack of purpose.

So just by focusing on what they really want, people discover that their lives improve. Results, without having to bother with any of the metaphysical and philosophical ramifications behind The Secret's New Age philosophy.

The second stage, focusing on Getting What You Want, is another deeply practical suggestion wrapped up in The Secret's pseudo-science. Once you've determined what you want, taking positive steps to getting it makes your chances of achieving your goals that much better. If you want money, think about getting a better job. If you want love, think about meeting new people. If you want to win the lottery - go out and buy a bloody ticket!

And the final step? Accepting What You Want? Well that again falls into the area of psychology rather than philosophy. Some people are just plain scared of getting what they want the most. I know it - because when I finally got the chance to move to America two months ago, I almost didn't take it just because the prospect was so terrifying.

By focusing and visualising what's missing from your life, the Law Of Attraction will help you achieve it. And whether that's because of secret mystical energies, manipulating the fabric of the universe - or just good old fashioned focus and ambition - the results can often be amazing. 'The Secret' DVD is filled with anecdotal evidence to back up the philosophy.

Whether it works or not, one thing is certain. A little focus, ambition and positive thinking can benefit all our lives. Even if the Law of Attraction sounds like bunkum to you, give a little thought to what you really want and see whether or not you get it. The results can be surprising. As a Grade A Skeptic, I visualised a phone call from a potential employer on Sunday and, low and behold, I got that call the very next day.

The Secret DVD and The Secret Book are both available from Amazon.com.

Notice of Inaction

Attention Visitors to Militant Ginger.

The management would like to apologise for the somewhat lackluster contributions recently appearing on this site. Due to leaves on the line, the wrong kind of snow or other such f**kery, the quality and quantity of Militant Gingerism has developed 'room for improvement.'

It is the intention of this management to restore Militant Ginger to full working order within the next few days. Until that time, please accept our apologies while service continues as best it can.

With thanks for your patience,

Militant Ginger

Transformers

What was Michael Bay thinking when he signed on to produce Transformers?

Did the Pearl Harbour producer really think that this was a good idea? Tackling a multi-million dollar blockbuster developed entirely off the back of merchandising?

Considering that fact that toy manufacturer Hasbro has it's name right up there on the credits, Bay might have been forgiven for thinking that this would turn out to be a recipe for disaster. But you know what?

It wasn't. Against all odds, it worked.

Transformers is a live-action version of the infamous 80's cartoon, which told the story of alien robots that came to earth disguised as car, trucks and planes. Each cartoon was basically a 20 minute commercial for the Transformers toys, which made sponsors Hasbro a fortune as they stocked the shelves of Toys R Us with Bumblebee and Optimus Prime action figures.

But strangely enough, the stupid plot really appealed to my generation and the Transformers cartoon holds a special place in the heart of any boy between the ages of 18 and 30.

Which is why turning it into a movie seemed like such a terrible idea. The fan boys out there (men my age who still dress up as transforming trucks) would be brutal if a director messed with the 'source material.' But how could anybody come up with a half decent idea of putting these crazy robots onto the big screen? It's such a ridiculous idea for a movie!
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But somehow - some CRAZY how - writers John Rogers, Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman manage to do it.

The succeeded by doing exactly the opposite of what the fans wanted. They didn't write a two hour piece of "Robot Porn." Instead, Transformers became a funny, exciting action movie that just happened to feature gigantic scary robot monsters.

The film focuses on nerdy teenager Sam WitWicky, who gets adopted by a '77 Camero that turns into a robot when the sun goes down. Sam is played brilliantly by engaging and hilarious Shia LaBouef. He's an unlikely hero, but lovable, funny and sharp. Plus he drives around in a Camero, which makes my day!

The script presents his life as an engaging backdrop for the alien adventure. Small details, like Sam's whimpering Chihuahua and his crush on gorgeous Megan Fox, make the film very human - which is a talent considering the movie's about robots.

Michael Bay gently leads us into the plot and it's almost half an hour before the Transformers really show their stuff. That really works - concentrating on a human story makes the non-human one that much more compelling.

When the action finally does kick off, you can rest assured that it's breathtaking. Robots fight in their full screen glory, kicking, spinning and mutating like... well, machines. The computer graphics must have cost a fortune, but it was worth it just for the level of believability and detail that goes into putting Optimus and his pals on the silver screen.

My only complaint is that the 'robot porn' can be a little intense. There's more concentration on movement than action and the final battle scene was so long and lively that my eyes hurt after trying to keep up with the actions on screen. But for those that kept up, Michal Bay rewarded us with amazing stunts and special effects. It was incredible.

At the end of the movie, I left the theatre with a smile on my face. Transformers is definitely worth the $10 to go and see it, even if you're not a fan of the old cartoon.

Crown of Comedy

When it comes to comedy, we Brits tend to think we're number #1.

And with good reason. The UK has a solid comedy heritage that no other nation can match. From the Goon Show to Monty Python, from The Office to Shaun of the Dead, there's something wonderfully offbeat and subversive about British comedy that gives it a timeless quality.

But coming to America made me realise something. We Brits are resting on our laurels. There is some hilarious stuff being produced stateside.

Top of the Totem Pole has to be the magnificent Colbert Report - a spoof political commentary show presented by the blustering Steven Colbert.

The Report (the T is silent, like Colbert's last name, so the show is pronounced The Coal Bear Re Pour) is a spin off from hit comedy The Daily Show. That's Comedy Central's leading political commentary program, hosted by sardonic comedian Jon Stewart.

But while The Daily Show attacked the crazy political climate with wry, liberal, sarcasm, The Colbert Report goes one step further, which shifts Funny to Hilarious.

We're in on the joke as Steven Colbert portrays himself as a pompous, right wing egotist, inviting his guests to "take a spin in the no fact zone." It's a dead-on mockery of 'personality pundits' like Bill O'Reilly, who seem to think facts play second fiddle to dogma and 'liberal' is a dirty word.
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And it's this persona Colbert invents that makes his comedy so brilliant - because Colbert can invite guests onto his show and mock them with abandon. The Daily Show is limited by it's liberal bias. The Colbert Report wallows in it's pretend conservatism.

For example, the Report had socialist documentary maker Michael Moore on the other night. Throughout the interview, Steven Colbert portrayed himself as an opinionated, laughable buffoon - spoofing all the comments real right wing opponents of Moore's work might make.

However those very same comments, which Michael Moore took in smug good humour, were actually sharp stabs at the real flaws and hypocrisy in Moore's 'documentary' film making techniques.

A straight interviewer would never have got away with hurling the insulting questions at the famously touchy Moore. On the Colbert Report, however, the pie-loving documentary maker thought he was in on the joke, when he was actually it's target. It made for exceptional television that satisfied on many levels.

Movies like Hot Fuzz show we Brits can still make 'em better than anybody else... But we'd better keep on the ball, or American Comedy will steal our crown.

Highway Anarchy

After living and working in France, I was under the impression that America was delightfully free of bureaucracy. However, after just a few weeks of being a resident, working, tax paying American, I realise that it's plus ca change over here.


There difference is: Whereas Britain, France and the rest of Europe are bound up in centralised red tape, the United States has a federal government that preaches distance and non-interference to it's citizens. However the state and town governments have a different outlook on life entirely. They're the ones who stick the oar in.


It's something that's been said many many times, but I'd never quite understood it until now. America isn't a single nation. It's fifty individual countries with their own governments, laws, customs and people. Living in New York, I'd never quite understood that. It isn't until you cross the state line that the differences become apparent.


The reason for my rant is the Department of Motor Vehicles - or the Motor Vehicle Commission as they're called in New Jersey. Transferring my driving records from one state to the other seems like a simple, albeit inconvenient and expensive process. However I discovered today that the simple process of getting my records from one state to another (less than half an hour's drive away) had evidently proven too complicated for the DMV.


Despite having already walked into the MVC and insured and registered a car in New Jersey, I discovered today that I wasn't technically allowed to drive here. I have to pay yet more money to the state government to get approved.


They'd cheerfully accepted my money at the government offices without informing me of this. Thank God I found out like this - instead of after being pulled over for speeding or for a broken tail light. Without valid driving permission, I could have been arrested.


That potentially disasterous 'hiccup' illustrates my major frustration with 'streamlined' American government. The right hand doesn't know what the left hand is doing. Federal laws conflict with State ones. State rules conflict with Town regulations. Sometimes, in the interest of progress, authorities pass rules without giving the consequences any prior thought.


A good example of this is again to be found on the roads. While taking my test for a New Jersey State Driver's Licence (which they would gaily grant me, despite apparently not being allowed to drive in the state) I had to study the NJ driving rules. And in the chapter marked traffic circles, I was interested to discover this insightful guide:


New Jersey Motor Vehicle Commission, Driver Manual, Chapter 4, Page 38:


There are not [sic] set rules for driving into, around and out of a traffic circle in New Jersey.


That's the American attitude to roundabouts, I guess. Basically, they're building these bloody things without any idea how to use them. In England, half of the Highway Code is about them.


I'm not complaining. The lack of centralised bureaucracy is refreshing and I can see how (in theory) it's easier to get things done in America than in Europe. But I get the impression there's more haste and less speed - and with so many conflicting rules, it's very easy to get caught out by one of them.


That must be why lawyers are so important here.


I am sorting out my driving problem tomorrow, so the Lincoln can safely and legally hit the tarmac again. But I've learnt an important lesson in America. Caveat Emptor - the 'buyer beware' - is just as important a warning when handing over money to a government department in America as it is when dealing with private individuals.

Whether Weather...

What a crazy day.

I was off on a job interview today - for a job I'm literally hungry for. But I was so focused on proving myself that I seemed to trip obliquely through one of the craziest days New York has had for a while.

My old haunt, Long Island, was struck by a tornado. High speed winds and driving rain flooded much of the island, cutting power for thousands of residents.

In parts of New Jersey, floods cut off major roads and stranded hundred of commuters.

And then, in the centre of Midtown Manhattan, an explosion sent rubble and steam hundreds of metres into the air.

One person was apparently killed by the explosion and the entire midtown area around Lexington and 43rd has been closed off. Smoke and steam has been billowing out of the ground as high as the nearby Chrysler Building.

It was caused by something called a 'water hammer,' a build up of condensation typical during hot, humid weather like this. Back in 1989 a similar explosion killed three people. But although we already know that terrorism wasn't the cause of this disaster, the reaction of the general public shows just how fresh 9.11 is in all our memories.

Ava Tribute

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

766 pages. Over 250,000 words. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is far and away J.K. Rowling's biggest work - and there's an awful lot of adventure packed between those pages.

Which must have made adapting the novel for the screen very difficult for 'Potter' Newcomer Michael Goldenberg. But he managed it, cramming Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry into a neat two hours and twenty minutes.

The result is the darkest and most thrilling chapter of Harry's adventures yet. But be warned. From the moment the film begins, you're going to be thrown headfirst into thick, gooey Potter Lore and a familiarity with the characters and events of the previous three films is essential.

The theme of the movie is government conspiracy, featuring a crooked Minister for Magic attempting to cover up claims that the evil Lord Voldemort has returned. He attempts to accomplish this by installing an agent, the fiendish Dolores Umbridge, into the staff of Hogwarts.

Umbridge is played brilliantly by Imelda Staunton, who portrays her as blend of Margaret Thatcher and Hyacinth Bucket. But the pink and girlish facade doesn't disguise her megalomaniacal ambitions. When she starts enforcing 'security' with draconian student 'regulations,' you can see director David Yates is enjoying bringing J.K. Rowling's broad criticism of post 9/11 government to the screen.

The secondary theme to the movie deals with Harry's relationships, both with his Godfather, Sirius Black (indulgently played by Gary Oldman, clearly rehearsing for a Doctor Who audition) and evil Lord Voldemort, who seems to be developing a powerful and dangerous mental bond with Harry.

This bond becomes the crux of the plot, which leads to a blistering battle in the heart of London's Ministry of Magic and pits Dumbledore and Harry against a truly scary Voldemort, played with relish by a noseless Ralph Fiennes.

The frenetic pace of the film leaves the audience a little breathless at the end - and as hard as Goldenberg tries, important details have to be glossed over in favour of pacing. However, the final product is a deeply satisfactory movie and a wonderful adaptation of what some consider to be J.K. Rowling's best book.

NB - I'm not sure whether it was deliberate or inadvertant, but the funniest scene of the movie was when African auror, Kinglsey Shacklebolt (played by imposing British actor George Harris) watches Dumbledore escape the clutches of the Ministry in a stunning explosion of supernatural pyrotechnics.

"You may not like Dumbledore," he tells Minister Fudge in a deep, rich, 70's Blaxploitation movie style voice, "but you got to admit, the man has style."

Ava

This morning, Tina's beloved cat Ava passed away.

We found her lying outside, barely breathing. We rushed her to the local vets, but she died during the journey. He examined her and said she'd probably been hit by a car. She struggled back home before she passed away.

Tina is devastated. She utterly adored Ava. As far as she was concerned, the only good thing about me dragging her back to America was to be back with her little cat.

Ava was her own character. We only reluctantly installed cat flaps to let her come in and out of the house because she utterly refused to be housebound. She was a very happy cat and brought us reluctant 'presents' every other morning, in varying states of alive-ness.

When we used to come home every day, we'd hear her meow "hello" as the key turned in the lock. And she'd already colonised the house, with toys in every room and the second bedroom designated 'Ava's room.'

So there is a massive hole in our lives now. I'm very sad about the little cat, but what I'm really sad about is how it has effected Tina. For such a small little animal, she was the recipient of an awful lot of love. Tina has always loved animals, but she's never had a pet quite like Ava and a little bit of Tina died when Ava did.

Obviously I should be grateful that we haven't lost any person we're close to. People lose children and parents every day. But the grieving process is still very real and watching what Tina's going through makes me very upset.

On a day to day basis, I'm your basic God-fearing person. But when you see somebody grieving you wonder what sense it makes in the great cosmic plan. It's cruel and it's unfair. Ava should have spent a long time with Tina. She was going to come along with us on our journey. It's simply unfair that she was taken away from Tina after only a month of them being together again.

Death seems deeply cruel. I find it very, very difficult to consolidate the pain and sadness it causes with the beliefs I have.

But these philosophical questions don't really matter. All that matters is that a little furry person came into our lives and made a real difference and now she's not here any more.

I wish there was some way I could make Tina feel better.

I wish that Ava could have stayed in this morning, instead of going out for her morning hunt.

I wish that this tiny little furry thing - that brought Tina big furry happiness - hadn't been taken away from her when she needed her the most.

Goodbye, Ava. You will be missed.

Tintin in the Congo - Update

Associated Press released this on Saturday:

LONDON (AFP) - Sales of a Tintin comic book have rocketed since the Commission for Racial Equality claimed it was racist, a newspaper reported Saturday.

Sales of "Tintin in the Congo" have shot up by 3,800 percent after the CRE watchdog claimed it contained potentially highly offensive material, said The Daily Telegraph.

The comic has reached number eight on Internet retailer Amazon's most popular books list, the broadsheet reported.

It's ironic, isn't it?

Tintin in the Congo

"In every generation, children's books mirror the society from which they arise." Leonard S. Marcus.

For my whole life, I have been a fan of Herge's wonderful Tintin books. Chronicling the international adventures of a 'boy reporter' from Belgium, they were my first introduction to reading on my own and kindled a love of reading (and adventure stories) that I've enjoyed my entire life.

When I was a boy, I nearly had the entire set of Tintin books, from Tintin in America to his final adventure in Tintin and the Picaros. But one elusive book prevented me from completing my collection. Tintin in the Congo, the first (actually the second) book in the Tintin Library, was unavailable in British shops.

This was because British publishers Methuen felt that Tintin in the Congo was too controversial for a young British audience. Before a translated version of the book finally hit British bookstores in 2005, the only way to see it was by buying an original language copy in France.

Tintin in the Congo, more than any other Tintin adventure, was a product of it's time. The original story was penned by Herge in 1930 and recounted Tintin's voyage to the Belgian colony in West Africa, where he combated a diamond smuggling ring lead by villainous Al Capone.

For modern audiences, the book is shocking. The natives of Congo are portrayed as ignorant and childish, causing accidents and mishaps with their incompetent use of Western technology. Herge draws the Africans as gangly, misshapen creatures with coal black skin and enormous lips. It's all embarrassingly outdated and uncomfortable - an example of the naive misconceptions and stereotypes people made about Africans almost eighty years ago.

However, despite Tintin in the Congo hitting the stands way back in 1930, it's only now that British organisation the Commission for Racial Equality has turned it's attention to what they describe as 'highly offensive material.'

They've demanded British bookshop Borders remove Tintin in the Congo from their shelves, citing that "the only place that it might be acceptable for this [book] to be displayed would be in a museum, with a big sign saying 'old fashioned, racist claptrap'.

Borders responded by moving the offending book off the shelves of the Children's section and into the Adult Graphic Novels department, rebuking the CRE's demands with: "Borders stands by its commitment to let customers make the choice."

I think that's a perfectly acceptable compromise. As an adult Tintin fan, I do want the choice of purchasing a copy of Tintin in the Congo, fully aware of it's controversial nature and equally aware of the historical context in which the book was written. Children who are fans of Tintin can satisfy themselves by reading some of the boy reporter's other adventures. Those remain in the children's section.

The real question is whether the CRE will accept this compromise. Their statement, which you can read here, calls for the book to be removed from the shelves entirely. Personally, I think that's ridiculous. If you start removing one book from shops because of outdated content, why not start removing all of them?

I mean, as offensive as Tintin in the Congo apparently is, the stereotypes and naive racism are surely no more offensive than, say, those contained within Jules Verne's Five Weeks in the Balloon; in which British adventurers shoot native Africans, mistaking them for baboons - or H Rider Haggard's King Solomon's Mines; which is full of rampant imperialism and racism.

What about Huck Finn's troubled conscience when he helps slave 'Nigger Jim' escape his abusive masters in the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn? The book itself was groundbreaking in the way it portrayed Jim as a real human being, rather than property or an object. Yet white-trash Huck Finn is still more worried about the moral implications of liberating somebody else's property than helping his friend escape.

All of these books are products of their time. They were written during a less enlightened period. Reading them is an education into the real core of History. Not what people wore or what people did during life a century or two ago - but how they thought.

These books give us an opportunity to look inside society as it was then - and allow us to compare it to the way we think and live now. In that respect, they are very important and banning them is a ridiculous concept.

Tintin in the Congo

What makes Tintin and the Congo interesting isn't just the historical perspective in which it should be read. Author Hergé had an interesting relationship with the book and expressed embarrassment at the ill informed and prejudiced views within it.

He was constantly reminded of this because the Tintin franchise went through constant regeneration. His original 1930 story was updated in 1946 and turned into the full colour edition we see today (which CRE want banned.) In the sixteen years since he originally wrote it, Herge had undergone quite a bit of personal development and gained an attention to detail and demand for factual accuracy in his writing. He saw his early works as deeply flawed - especially Tintin in the Congo.

These perceived flaws were why Herge didn't allow Tintin's true 'first adventure' - Tintin in the Land of the Soviets - to undergo the same reworking as his other books. In that book, Tintin heads to Moscow and battles against the stereotypical Soviet bad guys. Unlike his later works, which involved extensive research from books, photographs and films to make the localities as accurate as possible, Herge based this entire adventure from a single book, Moscou sans voiles written by a former Belgian diplomat Joseph Douillet.

Similarly, Herge wrote Tintin in the Congo without actually having visited Africa - and his youth and enthusiasm explain why he used stereotypes and cliché in his description of the Africans. The accusations of racism the CRE make could equally be directed to Congo's sequel, Tintin in America, in which he portrayed Americans as gangsters and racketeers.

In fact, it wasn't until The Blue Lotus that Herge developed a real interest in making his stories as accurate and factual as possible. To research Tintin's new adventure, he consulted Chang Ch'ung-jen, a Chinese student, who explained the history, culture and art of his homeland and woke Herge up to just how prejudiced and inaccurate his preconceptions about China had been. From that point on, Herge vowed to painstakingly research his books and even made reference to the ignorance of his countrymen in The Blue Lotus, when Tintin explains to Tchang (a character based on Chang Ch'ung-jen) what misconceptions Europeans held about the Chinese.

From the Blue Lotus until Herge's final book, Tintin and the Picaros, the adventures of Tintin would be hailed for their accuracy. That's a sharp contrast to the contents of Tintin in the Congo; and makes that book so much more interesting and important as a result.

Banning Books

The CRE decided to launch their campaign against Tintin in the Congo after Human Right's lawyer David Enright found the book in a local branch of Borders bookshops. As a Human Rights lawyer, he should be satisfied with Border's response:

"Naturally, some of the thousands of books and music selections we carry could be considered controversial or objectionable depending on individual political views, tastes and interests. However, Borders stands by its commitment to let customers make the choice."

Unless, of course, he's willing to do what many supporters of 'human rights' do and gloss over the rights of freedom of expression and choice (which they hold sacred for their own ends) if the expressions and choices one makes are not 'politically correct.'

The most important questions CRE has to ask themselves is: What will banning Tintin in the Congo achieve?

Will it help reduce racism amongst impressionable young people? Probably not. Impressionable youngsters are sadly not lining up outside Borders to get their mitts on eighty year old comic books.

If David Enright and CRE are really concerned about combating racism amongst young people, they should direct their efforts towards the media: Like modern rap music, which contains widespread use of racial slurs, promotion of gang violence and disrespect towards women. Or what about television personalities? People like Jade Goody, who are millionaires despite being vile racist bullies. These are the people youngsters watch and emulate; not ageless boy reporters adventuring through a world which no longer exists.

Which is more the pity. Throughout his adventures, Tintin promoted respect, sobriety and humanitarianism. He tried never to kill even the most wicked of evil doers. He rescued and befriended drunks and rogues. And apart from in Tintin in the Congo (when he blew up a rhinoceros with dynamite) he was never cruel to animals.

How to Wear a Kilt on a Budget

This Sunday was little Ryan's christening, so it was an excuse to get dressed up in all our finery to enjoy the ceremony and the party afterwards. For me, this was a chance to wear my kilt.

Back in the UK, the kilt isn't exactly common on the streets, but you certainly do see them about. At most formal events, you'll see one or two people wearing their clan colours and Bonnie Prince Charlie jackets.

In America, they're really quite rare. I caused quite a stir when I stopped off at Home Depot for some batteries!

I think one of the reasons for their rarity has to be cost. The price of the entire Scottish get-up varies wildly depending on the quality of the outfit, but even on the cheapest sets, you're not looking to get much change back from $600.

Weighing the Options

The most essential part of the Scottish outfit has to be the kilt itself, and this is where the major disparity in cost comes into play. Proper kilts are made from worsted wool and the most immediate gauge of quality comes in the weight of the fabric. The cheapest kilts are about 10-11 ounces per yard. 'Proper' kilts of regimental quality weight in at a hefty 18-21 ounces.

The weight of a kilt effects the way it hangs and also how comfortable it is to wear. Since most kilt wearers aren't going to be playing the bagpipes in front of the Queen, an affordable recommended weight would be between 13 and 16 ounces.

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The heavier the fabric, the more expensive the kilt will ultimately be; but heavier kilts also tend to be of a better quality construction. The pleats (which hang to the rear of the kilt and give the wearer freedom of movement) are often merely pressed into shape on cheaper kilts. On a regimental weight kilt, they'll be specially sewn, making the shape of the skirt a lot more durable and crisper.

A 13 ounce kilt in standard tartan (like the Hunting Stewart I'm wearing at the top of this post) will cost around $150. A regimental weight kilt will generally cost upwards of ten times more.

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Clan Do Attitude

The ultimate expression of your Scottish heritage is to wear your clan colours.

Even though there have been calls to establish an official Scottish registry of tartans, one doesn't exist at this present point in time, so it's impossible to know exactly how many separate tartans there are in existence. The number is considerable, however!

Traditionally, a Scotsman wears the tartan of his mother's clan. There are exceptions if you're part of the military or clergy. Both have their own individual tartans; as do some football clubs!

Your choice it tartan will again effect the price of your kilt. Some, such as the Black Watch tartan or Royal and Hunting Stewart, are mass produced and available cheaply in a variety of different weights. Other, more exclusive tartans often have to be sourced specially and are generally only available in the more quality weights of worsted wool.

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For various reasons, I decided to buy a Hunting Stewart kilt (left) rather than my family MacDonald tartan (right.)

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Foremost of these was the colour. As a traditional ginger Scot, the red MacDonald tartan would clash horribly with my hair!

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The Hunting Stewart is a good compromise. It neatly identifies my Scottish roots and satisfies my demanding fashion requirements at the same time!

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When choosing the tartan of your kilt, it's certainly worth considering your family tartan, but if that proves too expensive or ugly an option, the traditional Royal Stewart (in red) and Hunting Stewart are attractive tartans to suit most wearers.

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It's worth remembering that most people won't know the difference between one tartan or another and the kilt itself will be proof enough of your Scottish roots (even if you don't really have them.)

What's On Top?

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While you'll most often see kilts at formal events and gatherings, it's important to remember that the traditional style of Scottish dress originated out of practicality.

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Out in the Highlands of Scotland, clansmen wore the kilt on a daily basis and that means there's no official rule about what's worn on top.

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Since most people don the kilt for formal events, the most common form of upperwear is a traditional Scottish 'Bonnie Prince Charlie.'

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This is a two piece jacket ensemble worn with a traditional dress short and bow tie. Available in shops or mail order, this ensemble will generally set you back about $300 or more, depending on the quality of the product.

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While the sleeves of the jacket should reach just short of the wrist, like a normal suit or tuxedo jacket, it's important to note that the jacket is much short and tapers to an end just south of the wearer's belly button (which is covered by the kilt.)

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Even though this is the most traditional type of outfit, it's by no means the only option open. A slightly less formal option would be to wear a standard jacket and waistcoat from a three piece suit, like I've done in the picture at the top of this post. Alternatively, you could simply wear a black waistcoat with tie or bow tie or even just a white shirt.

Considering the cost of a Bonnie Prince Charlie jacket will easily match that of an entry level kilt, it's certainly worth considering what other options you have if cost is a major consideration. If the event isn't quite so formal, you could even try something like this:

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Bells and Whistles

Like with most outfits, it's all in the details. When donning the kilt, there are certain finishing touches that are vital to completing the outfit.

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First and foremost is the Sporran. Because the kilt has no pockets, the Sporran is a highly practical addition to your outfit which will swallow up your wallet, mobile phone and keys.

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It's not just for storage, though. The weight of a Sporran is vital to any man's modesty. When sitting or standing, it weighs down the front of the kilt and helps keep a man's privates private, in spite of gravity, strong winds or curious tugs.

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A kilt is generally a leather pouch held loosely around the waist with a belt or chain. In it's natural state, it should hang directly in front of a man's 'bits.' Remember not to have your mobile phone set on 'vibrate!'

More affordable sporrans will set you back less than $100 and are made and decorated from seal hide. More expensive sporrans are generally made from more expensive animals.

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In Scotland, if the Sporran is made from an endangered animal such as a Badger, the wearer is required to have a licence for it!

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Sporrans with chains generally hang better and are more affordable. Online shops and eBay are excellent places to find them at acceptable prices.

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Another important part of the outfit is a kilt pin. This is another practical addition to the outfit which keeps the bottom flaps of the kilt joined together (further protecting the wearer's dignity.)

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Measure the correct position by raising one foot onto a chair and keeping the other on the floor. This is about as much slack as your kilt will need. Make sure the apron (the flat front of the kilt) hangs nicely once you've returned your foot to the floor.

Almost all kilts will come with a free pin; it generally resembles a giant safety pin. More decorative pins can be purchased very inexpensively for less that $20.

Feet on the Ground

The penultimate detail of your outfit are your feet. No kilt is complete without long argyle socks, which should come just short of your knee and be folded over at the top.

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This fold can conceal bands or suspenders to 'keep your socks up' or be used to attach flashes or even a dagger (a Scottish dirk) to your calf.

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As for the shoes... The traditional outfit demands 'gillies,' which are flat soled dress shoes which have overlong laces to wrap around your calf and help keep your socks up. If these are too expensive; or you can't tie your laces; substitute simple slip-on dress shoes.

The Final Detail

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The most commonly asked question Scotsman face is: "What's worn under the kilt?"

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The correct answer is apparently: "Nothing's WORN under the kilt. It's all in fine working order!"

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As for the question of whether or not you should go 'commando' in the kilt? Well, that's a decision only you can make. One word of advice, however... If budget is a real issue when putting together your authentic Scottish outfit, why not do what they do?

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Most kilt-wearing Scotsman never spend a penny on undergarments.

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Three Good Scottish Outfitters:

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Kilts 'N' Stuff Also known as The Celtic Croft

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The Kilt Store All imported from Scotland

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Kilts.com They have an Irish section too...

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The Brand of Jesus

It wasn't Ava who woke me up at an ungodly hour this morning. It was the sound of hammering on my bedroom wall. Blearily peering around the door, I discovered my mother in law had erected this monstrosity in our kitchen:

Just in case you're wondering, yes. This IS a plastic veneer clock featuring a chintzy picture of Jesus and his Disciples at The Last Supper. Mom (or as Tina calls her, Maaaaaa!) discovered it in our basement and moved it upstairs: "So Jesus would give you a little luck."

Which is a really sweet idea - although I thought it was leprechauns that went around doling out luck. Jesus kind of stuck to salvation and other big, important spiritual matters.

In any event, I'm not a big fan of the clock. It's cheap, tacky and plastic. I'm sure Jesus would not be too impressed that his image was inexpensively printed on it. Tina has interpreted my dislike of the clock as good, old fashioned Episcopalian distaste for iconography. In actual fact, it's far less complicated than that.

Who owns Jesus' copyright?

Having worked in the media for the last few years, I've had the chance to work with some reasonably famous celebrities (big names, like Nasty Nick from Season 1 of Big Brother.) One thing's for sure. If some shoddy Chinese factory started churning out crappy plastic clocks with, for example, Ricky Gervais' mug printed on them, there'd be a court case brewing before you can say: "Flanimal."

But poor Jesus - arguably the ultimate celebrity - doesn't have the protection a good Agent and a retinue of lawyers grants most famous people. For the last two thousand years, his likeness has been plastered over everything from priceless gold-leafed bibles to the crappy clock that's presently disgracing my kitchen wall.

It's not just his picture, either. Any good Catholic will criticize you for taking the Lord's name in vain (When I hit my thumb with a hammer, I've adapted to yelling the less offensive: Jesus H. Corbett!)

Yet poor old Jesus has his name attached to all sorts of ridiculous campaigns, including those of the highly offensive Westboro Baptist Church - who proclaim: "Thank God for Improvised Explosive Devices" - their protest against the war in Iraq - and run a website called "Godhatesfags.com" - which promotes the idea that homosexuality should be a capital crime.

I just think it's wrong. Very, very wrong. Whether you believe he was the Son of God or not, it's pretty much accepted that Jesus was a real person living in real times (try reading the excellent Werner Keller book The Bible as History to draw your own conclusions.) Surely it's not quite right that his image, name and personal brand get plastered over all sorts of eclectic products and campaigns.

It's not even his image half the time. Jesus was a Jewish carpenter growing up in the Holy Land. He was probably a stocky, swarthy little man - instead of the dashing, blue eyed Robert Powell lookalike that the Catholics seem to think he is.

If the peddlers of these products really call themselves Christians, they should quit adjusting Jesus' likeness and what we know of his beliefs to suit their own commercial purposes - or, at the very least, they should consider what Jesus might think about his mug being plastered all over something Made in China.

I think this is why the whole iconography thing slightly freaks me out - and not just because I now have Jesus and Chums staring down at me from my kitchen wall as I eat my pancakes.

Three Weeks Without Sitting

It's hard to believe, but since we moved into our new house, we've been without chairs. Yesterday, we finally corrected that problem with some lovely new furniture. I assembled it last night and felt very manly and capable as a result.

We have a lovely redwood dining table and chairs. And a futon/sofa. (Jewish Accountant pictured Sold Separately.)

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The secret to buying anything in America is to wait until it's on sale or in clearance. It's also important to remember that you can take things back and get a refund pretty much regardless of the condition of the product. If you take your table home, set alight to it and then run over it with a Ford F-250 pick-up truck, K-Mart will generally still accept it back.

Fortunately, I didn't set fire to anything as I was putting it together. We did find one of the parts of the futon had been broken, so a nice man at the shop handed us a screwdriver and let me take the display model to pieces and take the bits I needed. Even better, I didn't need to put it back together again afterwards. It was the BEST GAME EVER!

The Predator, the Savior and the Apathetic Onlooker

Currently, I'm keeping my ambitions modest and achievable. For Saturday, my project was simply to remain in bed past 7am. Unfortunately, I was thwarted in this ambition by plaintiff cries emerging from underneath the bed.

The cries were coming from a little wounded Robin, lodged firmly in Ava's jaws.

We deposited the crippled bird outside and Ava retired to her bed, licking her chops. Right now she's lying there, dreaming of more wildlife she can massacre.

Tina always does her best to help Ava's wounded prey. Unfortunately, catch-and-release doesn't really work once Ava's fangs have done their work. Tina wanted to help the little Robin, but I could tell the poor thing was a goner.

With squirrels, birds and groundhogs roaming happily in our yard, we'll have to get used to Ava's little gifts. We prefer mice to the birds, however. The birds are normally alive - albeit mangled. The mice arrive on our kitchen floor neatly missing their front halves and that eliminates the problem of catching them. And it makes clean up a lot easier.

Right now, whenever Ava prowls through the long grass, the birds have started screeching and the squirrels peer down angrily from the power lines. They've set up an early warning system that our little Bengal finds very frustrating.

This has led to Ava developing an observation platform in the spare room, where she can maintain a look out through the glass without alerting any of her potential victims. Then, as they frolic in the yard, she can stalk out and pounce on them.

A quick word with Mommy has led to Ava's bed being shifted into the spare room, so she can take a little cat nap between look-out shifts. Considering her bed is now the only item of furniture there, it looks like our spare room/office has now become Ava's room.

A cat with her own bedroom?

She's ridiculously spoilt.

Militant Ducks

In our little town, there is a gang.

They shuffle about in a big group, going wherever they want and intimidating anybody in their way. They cackle and squawk at strangers and mark their territory with white spray. Nobody messes with them.

And this isn't a group of kids we're talking about. Nope. They're ducks.

Canadian Geese, to be exact. New Jersey is full of them.

These geese are utterly fearless. They make the rules. If you find them sitting across your path, you'd better find another way around, because they'll bite and flap just as menacingly as any chavvy teenager.

They're even fearless around cars. Their favourite trick is to sit in a parking lot and glare menacingly at people as they scurry past them to the safety of their automobiles. Once behind the wheel, people foolishly believe the ducks will let them roll past onto the highway. No such luck. They'll sit resolutely in the path of oncoming traffic until the car stops or they become a goose pancake. And Jersey-ites, being such animal lovers, never let that happen.

Who would have thought that the cuddly land of maple syrup could produce such curmudgeonly critters? If the ducks continue to spread, how long will it before before New York comes to a shuddering halt - hostages of the Mallard Mob?

Foul play, I believe.

Independence Day and the right to Bear Fireworks

Today is a big day in the American calendar. The 4th of July celebrates the adoption of the Declaration of Independence in 1776, when the fledgling United States of America officially declared their independence from British rule.

It's a national holiday, so I'm able to take a day off from pestering doctors and nurses with my fancy new drugs literature. However, like during most American holidays, the commercial monster doesn't let up and most of the shops and supermarkets are still open.

Since the first anniversary of independence, way back in 1777, fireworks have played a big part of the 4th July celebrations. And in a sketchy scheme straight out of the Dukes of Hazzard, local authorities are anxious to take their piece of the explosives pie.

In New Jersey, fireworks are illegal, plain and simple. You can't buy them. You can't transport them. You can't own them. Firing them off is a pretty risky operation, since the police will be on your doorstep in minutes.

The theory goes that banning fireworks will drive Jersey's residents to officially sanctioned events, like the Auten Road fireworks I blogged about a few days ago.

Yet in the spirit of American independence, residents support their right to bear fireworks as vehemently as their right to bear arms (which is another heavily restricted privilege in New Jersey.)

And this is where the whole operation starts to resemble Prohibition Era bootlegging more than fussy Government bureaucracy.

Because in neighbouring Pennsylvania, it's also illegal for residents to buy, transport, own or explode fireworks. Residents of Pennsylvania, that is. If a New Jersey resident crosses the state line and shows appropriate out-of-state I.D., they can pile up their SUV's with mountains of bottle rockets, M80s and other fireworks. The rule is that they have 24 hours to get them out of the state of Pennsylvania. Where they go and what happens to them... Well, if it's beyond the state line, that's not the authorities problem, is it?

So an emerging market has been created, driving residents of NJ across the state line to enormous fireworks warehouses. Here they can buy hundreds of pounds worth of explosives to take home and detonate in their gardens, just like the founding fathers did two hundred years ago.

Except of course, as soon as you cross the state line back home again, the boxes of bangers in your back seat immediately become illegal merchandise - and canny coppers are waiting to pounce on the border; arresting, impounding and seizing all the illegal merchandise.

Thanks to George Bush's anti terror legislation, you can even get busted on Conspiracy to Cause Explosions if you're carting enough firecrackers. With time behind bars, thousands of dollars worth of fines and the risk of losing your car or truck as deterrents, it's a pretty risky business.

But the challenge itself - and the principle of the matter (when it comes to explosives and guns, Americans stick to their principles) has led more and more New Jersey residents to run the gauntlet. Yesterday, the Home News Tribune reported over 50 arrests and 8,000 lbs of fireworks impounded by local Police in the last month alone.

It's almost as if the danger encourages people to do it. They cook up more and more complex schemes to avoid the Smokeys and get their illegal cargo home. From switching plates (Pennsylvania and New Jersey licence plates) to switching cars (renting them in Pennsylvania and leaving your Jersey car on the border) there are all sorts of permutations to be plotted to avoid the cops.

Yet police are getting more and more devious as well. The current plan is to leave an unmarked car in the Fireworks Warehouse parking lot and radio in the Jersey plates as and when they drive off. Police Cruisers will be waiting for the offenders as soon as they drive over the state lines.

It really is straight out of Smokey and the Bandit or the Dukes of Hazzard. It makes a mockery out of the law - which was pretty much a sham to begin with. Just like Boss Hogg's schemes were generally crooked ways to raise revenue, the more obscure state and county laws seem focused on massive fines and impounding property rather than protecting the public and serving the community.

One thing's for certain. Even the most law abiding New Jersey residents have a sneaking respect for the fireworks smugglers - and there will be far more fireworks displays this holiday weekend than the official ones sanctioned by the New Jersey authorities.