@bazbt3

Words used to have meaning, used not to be mere scribbles on paper or sounds made to satisfy popular demand.

Take 'hero'. A hero to me is someone who battles near-impossible odds to save a life, or works for a lifetime against near-impossible odds to change lives. A hero is emphatically NOT someone who kicks a ball for a few minutes each week or runs/swims/cavorts quite fast/energetically - or does both - whilst being paid an entertainer's wage. Real heroes do it because it's there, because it must be done, not for the rewards.

For some the distinction between the modern and classical versions of the term us unimportant. And that's a shame.

'Truth' used to be something incontrovertible, sustained by peer or objective review, unassailable. Nowadays it's whatever some politician says - or believes they can get away with saying. And they do. Get away with it. No amount of fact-checking can overcome a recognisable face on the TV or in a favourite newspaper.

Wholesale use of hyperbole is peaking, we can see it all around. There will come a time when even the most hardened Sun or New York Post journalist at least considers giving up.

At least I hope so. I really don't like this erosion of meaning. What's next though?

To be sure, languages must evolve, take at least that for granted. In a lot of cases it's necessary as technology or social change mandates the reduction of complex phrases in favour of a jargon adopted by the general public. In some cases it's the adoption of trivial, inconsequential, transient words emerging from social media. In others it's borrowing of foreign words used regularly by a sizeable proportion of whatever language is evolving. It seems to me though that dictionary committees are spending more time courting the press than accurately following trends.

Trust and tradition, both are being eroded at rates faster than previously seen. 'Trust' in an age during which words lose their meaning is a bit of a misnomer. There are a very very small number of people and organisations I can trust without thought. And the list diminishes with time.

Yes of course all 'traditions' aren't necessarily good. Hunting foxes, chasing cheese down hills, Morris Dancing, you know…

Well there's a phrase: 'Less is more.' What a load of crap! Someone influential should redo it to be a true reflection of our times: 'More is less'.

Hah! There's a gap in the market; I should apply for a part-time job as a writer, opining from the perspective of a grumpy old bast…

As traditions, trust, language all degenerate where can we find solace in these uncertain times?

Reverting back to one of the biggest comforts of the modern age, at least the sporting world provides some useful distractions: for instance the Olympics (hashtags) and football (obscene spending.)

Reading the news earlier I came across a couple of rage-inducing sentences:

Grabbing a couple of sentences from the article: "Manchester United are on the brink of re-signing Paul Pogba from Juventus in a world record £89m deal. United will pay 105m euros for Pogba and performance-related bonuses and other costs could see that figure rise."

And that's a lot of money - some would say 'obscene' - for an as-yet unproven talent. It's a fifth of a hospital, and amounts to a lot of shirt sales.

'Rage' though? That may be overstating things a bit; I've broken nothing, lashed out at no-one, kicked no dogs, swung no cats…

Best to calm down a bit and look at the…

…

…let's not, it's altogether too depressing.

For a man wanting to become one of the few this world has ever seen to attain the status of a nuclear' button' pusher, Donald Trump has a lot of personal buttons he just does not want pressed.

Unusually for me I'm not going to spend time listing what I think they are, it's pretty evident that every attack on his statements (to begin with) is a trigger for the man.

Keeping the world safe would now seem to be appropriate for all political 'sides' - in the USA and the rest of the sane world - there can't be much more ramp left up which Trump's increasingly adversarial tone can ascend.

'Change' seems to be the driving force behind the man's support. Not the same kind of positivity shown 8 years ago prior to Persistent Obama's success, no. This change is as dark as things get in the so-called civilised world…

I have a theory. Soon 'The Donald' will do something so ridiculous and… no, abhorrent, that the Republican Party - and US voters with at least half a brain - will be FORCED to shun the man. Nothing he's done thus far has worked, but I can imagine his growing despair as each initiative fails.

To be fair though, I thought that about the run-up to Brexit; surely no-one would be daft-enough to vote 'Leave' knowing how ill-prepared we were, how ill-prepared we remain. Look how wrong I was there!

Because there's nothing else in this world worth commenting on, not yesterday's family trip to Blackpool, not Brexit, not terrorism or the perceived threats from people we don't know to our way of life, not climate change, not all the other things, I shall post a link to an article about Donald Trump.

Its nothing major, merely relating to yet another of his insensitive statements. It's nothing particularly inflammatory, especially compared to some of the insane opinions he's voiced, no.

The article itself is, to be fair, almost incidental to the gradual expansion of the footnote accompanying every Trump-related article on the HuffPost site.

Please visit and scroll and click the links within the Editor's Note:

Trump Responds To Father Of Killed American Soldier, Can’t Name A Single Sacrifice

Thanks.

Inspired by a Tweet:

"@rabryst: Tell me an example of an uncommon reason for crying, in a particular film. That warm bristly feeling just before the tears counts. And go."

Well, I though about it. Here goes:

My all-time favourite movie is Armageddon. Its a roller-coaster ride of epic proportions, a film during which I can suspend my sense of disbelief, ignore my engineer's-innate sense that the physics isn't exactly Newtonian, and simply relax into the story.

Not-quite a ritual but I've watched it at least once a year since the film came out on DVD. I'll never tire of it.

I cry. I cry every time I watch it. I cry safe in the knowledge that my emotions are being manipulated by industry-proven methods not limited to…

No Baz, let's not spoil this.

I laugh too, I cringe, I empathise, I literally sit on the edge of my seat. Literally, not figuratively; I LIVE the movie. Sure the characters aren't as fully-fleshed-out as I'd like, but I really don't care.

Here's a typical quote:

Colonel William Sharp:
"Get off… the nuclear… warhead."

Awesome. In the very best sense.

There are indeed a couple of low points: the short cuts between the world's celebrations of the unlikely teams of drillers and bona-fide astronauts seem calculated to tug at the heartstrings. My disbelief returns. And there's something else not-quite-believable, but I'm not here to fact-check or find bloopers, no.

The very best bit in the whole film, it's tiny, it's understated amongst the joy and the sheer gung-ho spectacle around it. 'Poignant' is a good word to use at this point.

Dan Truman leads a team of NASA scientists tasked with the destruction of the terrifyingly-big lump of rock swinging round from the depths of space towards the destruction of Planet Earth; something at which I'm sure it would excel without breaking a figurative sweat. Now, a childhood disability robbed the man of the chance to become an astronaut; nonetheless he followed his dream and made a massive contribution to our salvation. He believed in the team he was putting together.

Amidst the cheesiness of the concluding scenes after the heroes return to earth he approaches the recently-deceased Harry Stamper's daughter Grace, just reunited with A.J., her love - their marriage finally approved by her dad "I wish I could have been there to walk you down the aisle…"…

A.J. breaks his embrace with Grace, turns to Dan and hands him a piece of cloth, a tattered and charred Misson patch, testament to the trials the team endured: "Harry wanted you to have this". Dan takes it: "He did huh."

Understated, powerful as anything else out there. Perfect. I can feel it now.

And the music starts to swell, a military plane formation arrives, one peeling away as they reach the landing site; it's called The Missing Man Formation.

And then Aerosmith, 'I don't want to miss a thing'.

And then I cry.

No hidden messages here, sorry dear reader.

Pizza is on its way.

Late yesterday one of the girls asked to go see 'The BFG': the film adaptation of Roald Dahl's excellent book. My wife has read it to my daughters, and I remain part-way through a similar reading.

Everyone should read the heartwarming tale of a…

Ahhh, but I don't do spoilers.

Suffice it to say we enjoyed the film, I saw enough of the story in my head from the book to be pleased and entertained…

Under normal circumstances the suspension of my disbelief isn't a problem; I'm not massively critical of films I pick or take the girls to.

Rewinding to a point halfway through The BFG though, the insistent pressure on my bladder became utterly intolerable; we had to leave our seats and visit the gents. Awkward with 2 girl in tow. Not that I cared! (We didn't miss much.)

Every time the go out I counsel my two to male sure they've been for a pee. We've done well so far. This time I'd actually taken my own advice and had one just before we left for the pictures.

(sighs) Getting old?

Damned if you do, damned if you don't. State, categorically, that something bad is unacceptable, clamp down on it when evidence of rule breaking is found - and STILL get castigated for being perceived as ineffective? Politics is a funny old game, especially the current Labour Party's version - of finger pointing and flinging poo.

Until last year when Jeremy Corby was elected, things seemed safe, predictable, boring even. Now the parliamentary Labour Party's raisin d'etre is a piecemeal, unfocused, but point-by-point dissection of a man's political evolution. We live in an age of easy access to things that the ignorant would consider to be facts, things which do not require explanation or interpretation but which, without context, are completely meaningless. Eager people lap it up; misery loves company.

Many people are thinking that one event in particular shaped this year and all successive years: the untimely death of one man. A singer, composer, actor, style and lifestyle icon…

Bowie, David Bowie.

Apocalyptic! Some say he's the Fourth Horseman, though that's twisting things a tiny bit.

Now, there's such a thing as responsibility, endeavouring to understand a situation and all its players. Unfortunately the Labour party's voluntary fracturing exhibits no evidence of this.

Deserting one's posts then blaming the leader of one's party for a failure to vote against, or at least to defend, one's party's principles? I've only one word for it.

Despicable. Ok, thinking about it, two words: despicable and classless.

Under normal circumstances a shadow minister tasked with overseeing opposition to the government would do their very best to mobilise against the full range of harebrained schemes the Tories, er… incumbents cobbled together from whatever pot of idiocy these things are stirred in. Opposition depends on team players.

Much like Monty Python's 'fearless' knights though they ran away. Not in a comedic style but in a tragic 'let us run away then blame it on our leader' manner. Responsibility requires sacrifices, demands that respect is earned. The Labour party's response: restricting supporters from voting, demanding a frankly ridiculous sum of money (lots of £25 sign ups totalling >£4.5 million), and suspending all branch meeting until the election - it's classless.

Blaming Flappy Bird's WallyWorld* constituency office attack on their leader, then suspending the entire branch (at a time when all meetings are outlawed anyway): classless.

Expecting that their leader should shoulder the blame for the alleged, or real, subsequent intimidation and death threats: it's utterly classless.

Revisiting a utopian ideal, anyone who considers themselves 'normal' would say it's a noble thing to aim for a classless society. Well, we got one.

*Some names have been changed to protect the challenged.

Thursday, today, is the first day since Tuesday during which I've been able to sit down on the gents toilet at work* without first carefully examining the contents of the bowl.

I must explain…

Tuesday, I lifted the lid to be greeted by a mass of toilet paper. Not excessive, not potentially a blocker or an overflower, no.

So I flushed. Big mistake. BIG mistake. The water rose, it rose, it continued to rise, then thankfully subsided. Then continued to subside, almost as the precursor to something awful seem only in the movies or the darkest corners of a fertile imagination.

And then, then a gurgle as the paper passing through the pipe relinquished its grip on the partial vacuum behind.

Now, physics.

Drawn, my gaze was, to the spectacle of a rushing back, then a parting of the waters as a great thing, a positive of brown Leviathan, rose from the depths and lurched out of the water at me. And then splashed back to an equilibrium of sorts.

Well of COURSE I let out an involuntary, nervous giggle! Things popping out; not the kind of thing I'm comfortable with in the gents at work.

I… yeah, there was someone in the cubicle one-removed from from my very real predicament. They remained quiet throughout.

Lo! The turd sat, becalmed, looking almost accusingly at me. 'Turd' has become a pejorative in recent years. This one though, this one commanded respect.

Lets face it, if I couldn't be flushed after at least two attempts I too would be a bit miffed. A dismissive 'Only human, it is.' was all I heard.

I folded a few sheets of toilet paper and had another go.

Er… stubborn, this one was!

Sod it, I know when I'm beaten! I didn't sit, instead backed out of the cubicle, washed my hands and left.

*We have more than one toilet of course, but I'm not identifying which for reasons of retaining confidentiality in the workplace.

I went online and ordered a kebab and a few other things earlier. 'Twas delicious, but bloody hell that sauce was a bit spicy!

A riddle:

My first is in 'Internet',

My second is in 'lounge',

My third is in 'eating',

My fourth is in 'full',

My fifth is in 'gurgle',

My last is in, er… I'll be right back!

Phew!

So what am I… ?

Yeah, ok, I'm sat on the toilet for a bit.

Will use again. Why? Life: a series of paradoxes linked together by uncertainty. Its good to be grounded every once in a while.

We're all searching for some kind of meaning in life, right?

Here's a dialogue extract taken from my all-time-favourite movie 'Armageddon'. It's during a scene the night before the team blast off to attempt to save mankind from an approaching killer asteroid. Its a love scene of sorts:

Grace Stamper: "Baby, do you think its possible that there's someone doing this very same thing at this very same time?"

A.J.: "I hope so, otherwise, what the hell are we trying to save?"

If you haven't seen the film yet, or dismissed it out-of-hand based on its frankly unrepresentative Rotten Tomatoes score, please, have a go; it will change your life. Really.

Heh! Perhaps not, but it's great entertainment. And if you find it resonates with your take on what's happening with this world of ours right now, so much the better.

As-intended I just watched the second act of the 2001 film adaptation of the Samuel Beckett classic absurdist play 'Waiting For Godot'.

Now the first act, watched on my phone via YouTube on Friday evening, impressed me immensely. Nothing really happens in the play it's true, but it's the WAY it happens that makes the play so compelling to watch.

Unfortunately, much as it has been for most of 2016 thus far, world events took over my evening as the news of Turkey's ill-fated coup attempt filtered through.

No-one seemed to have predicted the military actions, just-as no-one predicted the Nice terrorist's appalling act. Nice inspires us to say that 'something must be done'; Turkey though, Turkey is a puzzler.

First it's a good idea to examine Turkey's recent but gradual swing of power away from democracy to executive order. The country is in a unique position, strategic in terms of regional defence and in terms of being crucial to European expansion.

Over time Turkey's importance has only grown; there's too much at stake for too many partners for the inevitable crackdowns, reprisals, there to elicit more than an odd 'tut' from other governments.

Right away, before the implications had time to settle in the minds of foreign governments (all of whom had condemned the coup) the Turkish President dismissed just shy of 2,750 judges and placed the blame for the coup squarely on the shoulders of an exiled religious leader.

To be fair this exile has been deeply critical of the current government. However he's stated his lack of involvement in the coup and condemned its use of violence. The Turkish President still wants his return though.

US interest in the region requires the use of an air base and Turkish airspace. The Turks, to put pressure on the US to extradite the exiled critic have restricted access to this base. The USA has responded 'of course you can have him, but show us some evidence of his involvement.'

Not a pleasant time for anyone concerned.

A surprising thing occurred on Friday. Not the numbers of citizen journalists broadcasting via Twitter, not the clumsy takeover of national broadcast networks by the military, nor was it the swift shutting down of most Internet services for ordinary people, nor even the President's and local leader calls for the citizens to go out into the streets and stare down the army, no. The most surprising turn of events was the President turning to the Internet to appeal for assistance from the people.

Taking into account his distaste of it and his recent desire to restrict it at home, does it perhaps seem a bit two-faced to use it to achieve his own ends?

Everyone has a right to change their position over time. For a government to shift ideologies when it suits them simply seems unjust.

To be honest pretty much everything surprises me these days. Not the coup attempt, that at least followed a pattern established during the twentieth century.

Unsurprisingly, Turkey's inherent volatility, placed as it is at the meshing point of physical, ideological and religious boundaries, makes it an interesting choice for inclusion in Europe.

Repression of the Kurdish minority, of freedom of expression at home, of the secular in favour of the religious, making laws banning foreign subjects from criticism of the President (laws apparently enforceable by don't of treaty obligation outside of Turkey!), his own security detail assaulting protesters in a recent US visit - all these things are antithetical to the ideals of EU membership, the ideal of democracy.

Nevertheless Turkey remains a necessary bridge between The West and the Middle East and The East.

Oh how I wish it was a bridge a Troll didn't live beneath. The price to cross is almost too great. But at least there's some good news: Russia sided with the incumbent government. Yeah, good news…

For much of the year thus far, the news has not been 'good', not been kind to us ordinary people.

Every celebrity, musician, playwright, actor, novelist, politician, every one will eventually pass away. It seems that the first half of this year brought us an almost-unbearable number of 'em actually going just that.

Viewing this and the changes on the US and UK political maps one could assume that someone discovered the secret of life, the universe and everything, and that consequently our universe has been replaced by something for even more improbable.

Everyone should read Douglas Adams' Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy - a trilogy in five parts, just as everyone should watch Waiting For Godot.

Now I have a theory. These things can only make sense at either a specific time in one'sife or after a required number of life experiences have passed. Has to be said: I'm really looking forward to getting the remaining 97% of experience points, or however these things are measured!

Two men, waiting by the side of a road, waiting for a man to come, the purpose of his visit unclear. Two men with opinions on and an understanding of everything and, at the same time, nothing. No, right now I can't think of a direct link from the play to what's going on in the world right now. In general terms though; their attempts to make sense of even the limited stimuli present in the almost barren, desolate landscape around them parallel my clumsy attempts to understand politics, the strife we see all around. And life. Mixing a couple of metaphors here, maybe the drip feed prior to the advent of the late twentieth century news firehose would have suited me better; the genie's out of the bottle though, and our wishes are almost spent.

Stage plays, where were we? My last 3, with the most recent first: Waiting For Godot (YouTube), 'The Scottish Play', and a farce during which a man got his knob out on stage. Well yeah, at least my exposure to CULTURE is going the right way!