Dandelion Wine's album "Cheap Hooch" includes a song entitled "Queen of the May." Sung, and I think written, by Jon Speelman (correction: written by Paul Hann), it's an elegantly bitter little number in which a man visits his sister who has, shall we say, let the family down to a degree, and at the end he effectively disowns her. It's a *very* good song.

It needed an answer, I felt. And so I wrote one. Again, can't remember if I've posted it here before.

( THE QUEEN REPLIES )

...in light of various thoughts about violence and pacifism that have been cropping up of late, and proximately nudged to the surface by a chance reference in lil_shepherd's journal, but absolutely not related to the post in which the nudgery occurred. I can't remember if I've posted this song before, but if I have, apologies for being boring.

( IF *I* HAD A ROCKET LAUNCHER )

( Spoilers, of course... )

I really ought to make a nuWho icon, but somehow I just can't be bothered...

EDIT: and lo, now I have.

FURTHER EDIT: a much more positive view of this episode, and indeed of the new series in general, may be found in this post by my friend Mr Bristow. I wish I could enjoy it as much as he does.

I'm in a lot of pain at the moment because TMI in the downstairs region, the stupid Build Your Own Solar System has design flaws which are going to make it impossible to build, and the house is a tip again since our godsend of a cleaner decided for unknown reasons to stop coming or returning my phone calls or generally acknowledging our existence, and the other firm I booked basically blew us off. And it's hot, and I HATE it when it's hot, and to sum up I'm about this close to going back to bed and saying screw it.

So, as Seanan would say, whee. Sorry to those whom I have doubtless offended and will probably offend before this day is out. Unless I do go back to bed, of course. Might be the safer course.

EDIT: previous post deleted. I just can't be doing with it.

...which might appeal to some of my friends. It's called the Gospel Of The Second Coming, the authors' names are Freke and Gandy, and it's apparently a follow-up to several more serious works in which they disprove the existence of the historical Jesus. Since the world has signally failed, in the wake of these other volumes, to abandon the false doctrine of Literalist Christianity, they seem to have decided to have another go, and this time play it for laughs.

Unfortunately, within the first few pages they manage to come across as smug gits of the first water, with many a gleeful gibe at "people who don't think" and "people who have no sense of humour," i.e. the ordinary religious person. You all know how I feel about that kind of thing. The fact that they also can't write dialogue, don't know what a joke is, and have sadly fallen victim to what one might call Atheling's Syndrome*--the reflexive and obsessive avoidance of the word "said"--just adds that little extra fillip of irritation to a book that was already going to be irritating enough.

The book was remaindered at £3.99 in Superbookdeals in Trowbridge. If you're interested, it's a hardback with a bright orange cover and a matching cloth bookmark, and is printed in a nice readable font of a size that even the Countess could manage. Shame really. I know of dozens of better books that would have benefited from that kind of treatment.

Guess I'll be reading something else.

*Named, of course, for the critic who identified it, rather than the first sufferer, who is probably lost in the mists of Tim.

The Golden Compass.

And enjoyed it. I'm anybody's for a good airship--why do we still love airships? Maybe it's because we miss the ineffable luxury of being compelled to travel slowly*--and, possibly since I haven't yet read the books, I didn't mind one bit that they left out the Big Damn Message. The only thing that concerns me is whether this film will do well enough to keep them on track with the sequels. Boom's got to end some time. Or, as Ivanova did not say, probably wisely, there's always a bust tomorrow.

*This, of course, needs explaining. I'm not talking about being trapped in a traffic jam here--the whole infuriating thing about travel nowadays is that we expect and are expected to go faster and faster, get there sooner and sooner, and traffic jams and road works and such like prevent us from fulfilling that expectation. With airships and steam trains and similar outmoded forms of transport, the perception is that that expectation is removed--you go at the speed of the vehicle, and nobody expects you to get there any sooner than it can. There's a relief and a charm in that, I think.

Arising from no single source, except possibly my brain:

In a democracy, rich and poor are of equal status. That is one of the main raisons d'être of democracy as we know it. Therefore, if a two-party system evolves in which one party becomes known to be "the party of the rich," that party system is undemocratic and should be dissolved. If that party system is allowed to continue, and the "party of the rich" subsequently takes power in circumstances which are in any way ambiguous, then it may be assumed that democracy in that society has ceased to exist for the duration.

If someone of the same political stripe as myself commits an unequivocally illegal act, is it my place to defend that person and/or his actions?

In a democracy, rich and poor are of equal status. So why do we pay our elected officials more than ordinary working people? The problem with our House of Commons is that there is no longer anyone in it who could honestly be described as common.

And one, final, nasty little thought:

When George Walker Bush has left the White House, with the thanks of a grateful nation ringing in his ears, and gone into his cushy celebrity retirement, with nine or ten lucrative sinecure company directorships to keep the wolf from his door, not to mention the publisher's advance on "how i saevd Amerika," and he's sitting down to dine at his favourite plushy restaurant, with his napkin tucked under his chin and a big beaming smile on his face, I hope a waiter accidentally spills hot soup in his lap.