Reminder: top of the pops was sometimes good

No time for posts too busy bedroom-dancing:

She is such a cool person it's insane

how to protest awesomely

A masterclass by a marching band in Wisconsin.

At 1:05 they stop in front of the union-busting governor, whip out some incredible choreography and play this song:

Meanwhile the commentators discuss how many degrees the next turn in the road has: 105, apparently.

Found on NewAPPS, an excellent philosophy blog that also has good music on it.

Racism part 1

Dianne Abbott said "white people love playing divide and rule". The question is, does that show that she is a racist?

I think one reason why arguments about this question are on the whole fruitless is that different people mean different things when they talk about "racism" and "racists", so in this post and some more coming soon I am going to try to make sense of the situation. First here are what I consider the two main definitions:

Racism1: A state of affairs where members of some races are systematically disadvantaged compared to members of other races 

Racism2: The claim that there are true race-based generalisations  

 

Racist1: Someone who promotes Racism1 

Racist2: Someone who believes in Racism2 

These definitions fit the Dianne Abbott situation pretty well. There is ample evidence, all things considered, that Dianne Abbott is not a Racist1: for one thing, she has spent most of her professional life trying to reduce the systematic disadvantage that black people face in Britain. On the other hand, her tweet suggests strongly that she is a Racist2.

This isn't yet satisfactory: there are several questions that still need to be answered. Specifically:

(i) Is it bad to be a Racist2?

(ii) If the answer is "sometimes" (clue: I think it is), then when? 

(iii) Is there a connection between the two kinds of racism? If so, what is it? 

I want to think about these a bit and then write some more. In the meantime, is this a good rational reconstruction so far? Are there forms of racism that these definitions don't capture or do they label things as racism incorrectly? Also any good articles on this subject would be appreciated.

 

 

Publicising Medical Information Humourously

First here is Vinnie Jones keeping us up to date about what is the best song to think about while administering CPR.

Second, here is a poem from the Oxford Book of Twentieth Century English Verse (which is really good and was compiled by Philip Larkin. And yes I'm blogging about what I read on the toilet again). Key quatrain: "So do not wait for aches and pains/ To have a surgeon mend your drains/ If he says “cancer” you’re a dunce/ Unless you have it out at once". The writer, J.B.S. Haldane, was a fairly awesome biologist/statistician/Marxist and you should definitely check out his wikipedia page.

Cancer’s a Funny Thing

I wish I had the voice of Homer
To sing of rectal carcinoma,
Which kills a lot more chaps, in fact,
Than were bumped off when Troy was sacked. 

Yet, thanks to modern surgeon’s skills,
It can be killed before it kills
Upon a scientific basis
In nineteen out of twenty cases.
I noticed I was passing blood
(Only a few drops, not a flood).
So pausing on my homeward way
From Tallahassee to Bombay
I asked a doctor, now my friend,
To peer into my hinder end,
To prove or to disprove the rumour
That I had a malignant tumour.
They pumped in BaS04.
Till I could really stand no more,
And, when sufficient had been pressed in,
They photographed my large intestine,
In order to decide the issue
They next scraped out some bits of tissue.
(Before they did so, some good pal
Had knocked me out with pentothal,
Whose action is extremely quick,
And does not leave me feeling sick.)
The microscope returned the answer
That I had certainly got cancer,
So I was wheeled into the theatre
Where holes were made to make me better.
One set is in my perineurn
Where I can feel, but can’t yet see ‘em.
Another made me like a kipper
Or female prey of Jack the Ripper,
Through this incision, I don’t doubt,
The neoplasm was taken out,
Along with colon, and lymph nodes
Where cancer cells might find abodes.
A third much smaller hole is meant
To function as a ventral vent:
So now I am like two-faced Janus
The only* god who sees his anus.
I’ll swear, without the risk of perjury,
It was a snappy bit of surgery.
My rectum is a serious loss to me,
But I’ve a very neat colostomy,
And hope, as soon as I am able,
To make it keep a fixed time-table. 

So do not wait for aches and pains
To have a surgeon mend your drains;
If he says “cancer” you’re a dunce
Unless you have it out at once,
For if you wait it’s sure to swell,
And may have progeny as well.
My final word, before I’m done,
Is “Cancer can be rather fun”.
Thanks to the nurses and Nye Bevan
The NHS is quite like heaven
Provided one confronts the tumour
With a sufficient sense of humour.
I know that cancer often kills,
But so do cars and sleeping pills;
And it can hurt one till one sweats,
So can bad teeth and unpaid debts.
A spot of laughter, I am sure,
Often accelerates one’s cure;
So let us patients do our bit
To help the surgeons make us fit


*In India there are several more
With extra faces, up to four,
But both in Brahma and in Shiva
I own myself an unbeliever.