On Nature

Beautiful Bird, You Have Escaped the Eternal Struggle. No More Pain. Rest Easy, My Little Friend  

Several months ago, I wrote about an enterprising pair of blackbirds who had wisely decided to build a nest upon my outside water heater unit. I documented the progress of the hatchlings. At the time, it was early spring, and hence, a precarious time of year to raise a brood. Nonetheless, atop a water heater was the optimum choice for survival. After raising a successful brood, the parental birds left the nest to do stuff that blackbirds do. The sequel: I noticed that our god-favoured birds (perhaps Demon favoured; the distinction blurs/merges) had returned a few weeks ago to take a chance at a second brood. As a professional biologist, I took an interest in the proceedings and noted five eggs within the nest. Of the five, only three made it to the hatchling stage. Two down and three to go. I took an emotional interest in the brood and kept a weathered eye on 'my chicks'. A day later, I noticed that there were only two offspring within the confines of the nest. I searched the immediate environs, but no sign of the errant chick could be found. I could only surmise that the missing chick had spread its wings and had become one with Nature. Or perhaps a pesky ferret had taken the chance to feed its hungry brood. Shagger, are you there? The remaining chicks were becoming vocal and waxing fat. Due to personal reasons, I was subject to a hiatus (not the extended abdominal wall variety), which caused a break in the continuity of my ornithological activity. Imagine my chagrin and displeasure when I returned to the nest to discover that a single chick, clearly bereft of corporeal existence, remained. Its life essence had departed, and the ever-waiting and inevitable agent of decay, entropy, was taking its toll/toil (see pic.). I carefully removed the nest and interred the bird with its bier unto eternal rest within the wildflowers flourishing within the confines of Flaxen Saxon Estate.  

Of the five eggs spawned, only two fledglings left the nest. Of course, there is no certainty that these birds survived. It is conceivable that one or both fell from the cosy confines and succumbed to a lurking predator. At best, 40% of the eggs survived as successful independent juveniles capable of flight. And this is only the beginning.

My observations and the stark sequence of events had got me pondering. Due to my biological training, I am well versed in natural selection's role in the great 'Dance of Life', or more prosaically, Evolution. In the wild, all organisms, great and small, plant or animal, are subject to natural selection's stark, cold hand. In the early stage of life, selection is at its most apparent, and generally, this is where the most potent selection pressure is manifest. In addition, the process is necessarily and inherently cruel for sentient organisms gifted with a sophisticated neural network. 

I state that 'Nature' is cruel. This could be construed as anthropomorphism, the application of human attributes to an inanimate concept. This is a common human trait often applied to the all-encompassing idea of Nature. In objective science, the urge should be avoided. That said, in matters relating to all other endeavours in life, it can add imagery, express emotions, allow pause for thought or confer poetic nuance. Digression over.

Evolution can only occur if the majority of organisms of a species die before reproduction. This is a given in any wild biological setting. As a mechanism of species change, evolution by natural selection, is, by its very character, ruthless, fundamentally brutish and mayhap, pointless. 

For those of a religious bent who invoke the mysterious, hidden creator of ALL, this poses a problem. As a mechanism, evolution through natural selection is rather profligate in execution. This method is not energy efficient. Why not make all living things ex nihilo and leave as is. Why is change part of the process anyway? But who am I, a mere man, a creature born in sin, questioning the ineffable God?  And what's the deal with parasites anyway? 

I wonder why, in his later years, Charles Darwin stopped going to church.  

       

More God Than Man, Possibly.......

underpinned   

Tis November, Tis Christmas!

Tis a beautiful, sunny, late spring day in Wairarapa, New Zealand. After a turbulent spring of unpredictable weather, I suspect we are entering a period of typical summer Wairarapa fare with hot, dry climatic conditions. 

The last day of November also marks our town's Christmas parade (arse). The main street is closed to the usual cacophony of traffic, and the town's folk are subject to a series of parade floats of varied construction and quality. In addition, there is a marching band followed by the town's dedicated and skilled Scottish piper fraternity. Tis a yearly fixture in our town. I rarely make the effort to attend; however, this year, my beloved granddaughter, Freja, is making a guest appearance on her father's company's float.  Thus myself and Mrs S dutifully arrayed ourselves with assorted proles on the sidelines. Our wait was short, and the float of interest lumbered slowly unto view. Our flaxen-haired granddaughter made her appearance stage left, and all became bathed in her beatific pulchritude. Her radiant glow bestowed charmed grace upon those in attendance, even the fat smelly folk. Once she had departed, this vista, this arena, became dull and commonplace, thus heralding our departure. It was then I noticed that I had forgotten to take my medication. O, woe is me.....  

My psychiatrist, the renowned and esteemed Prof. Mugumbo, has repeatably requested that I refrain from idealising about burning stuff. Also, my fixation on all things ferret is a grave hindrance to my future mental well-being. The Prof. may have a point. 

Numismatics

    Claudian Aureus in Great Condition

As my regulars are well aware, I have an active interest in the history of ancient cultures, particularly ancient Greece and Rome. This is of no surprise, as we directly and indirectly owe much to Greece and Rome. These ancient cultures have bequeathed much in terms of culture, art, architecture, technology, law, language, literature, and, let's not forget, war—have I left anything out? (What did the Romans do for us?)

We can learn much from the ancients. Although times change, the constant is human nature. One method we can use to garner knowledge from the past is through coinage. As a practical concept, coins came into being about 800 BC in Lydia, a region of Asia Minor. Initially, the coins were simply adorned with a plain, modest image. The concept spread quickly throughout the Mediterranean region, and the first Greek coins were minted around the 7th century BC. The implementation of coinage offered many advantages over the simple barter it replaced. Coinage containing precious metals of known weight offered standardisation and credibility backed by government power and prestige. This innovation facilitated both internal and international commerce muchly.

By hook and by crook, I  seem to have inherited various pieces of old coinage. Most are British and not particularly old. Indeed, the oldest British currency I sport in my limited collection is the strange and out-of-place 'Two Pence Cartwheel ' minted in 1797'. This rather large coin proved unpopular with merchants of the day, perhaps because of its size. The coin was minted in Birmingham, a large and rather unloved city adjacent to the beloved borough of Tipton. Anyway, at the time of mint, the Crown stipulated the coin should contain two pence of copper as valued at that time, hence its large size. It has remained an anomaly in British coinage history never to be repeated. I also own several silver Victorian crowns of excellent condition. However, the pride of my collection is a coin minted 2,000 years ago.

I have the honour of being the proud recipient of a gold aureus commemorating Claudius' invasion and conquest of Britain in 43 AD. Tis a coin replete with propaganda, emphasising Claudius' great achievement. Conquering a country is something to gloat about. Claudius is a fascinating character/caricature from history. He was thrust unto greatness by chance and circumstance. After the assassination of the alluring and frankly odd Caligula in 41 AD, poor Claudius was found dallying behind palace drapes by the Praetorian guard. Once discovered, Claudius lay prostrate in fear. But fate favoured the fool, and he was granted the greatest gift of the ancient world. And thus, he was made Emporer of Rome and all its possessions (Tipton was not a Roman province at the time). Claudius was an unlikely candidate for the purple. According to history, he was afflicted by several unpleasant maladies which distracted from the majesty of the ultimate accolade. His ticks, stutter and ungainly gait, must have made him an unruly spectacle in public. In private, he would have had to suffer the indignities of his close family's scrutiny.  

Throughout life  Claudius had been sequestered in the cloisters due to his health problems. Unlike his kin he had not been allowed to undertake military glory. To advance in Roman society and politics, a military career was mandatory.  Bereft of military experience Claudius faced a problem of credibility. He needed a military victory to cement his position as emporer. But where to go? There was the perennial problem of the Germans. However, the Germans were always a proud, stubborn race ready for violence. Best leave them behind their dark, dank, weary forests. After all, the Rhine was too alluring as a defensive line/lime. Britainia seemed an easier mark. They were no match for Caeser's legions a hundred years before. Therefore, in 43 AD, the Roman invasion of Britain began in earnest and troops under Aulus Plautius landed in Kent. Initially, the invasion went smoothly and to plan, and by 46 AD, the Romans felt comfortable enough to issue a gold coin lauding their victory over the Britains. One side of the coin shows a triumphal arch with the inscription. 'DE BRITANN'. Also, we have a fella riding a horse flanked by two sets of armour and arms representing spoils of war. On the other side, we have a rather flattering portrait of Claudius in repose with the legend, TI CLAVD CAESAR AVG P M TR P VI IMP X. 

Through the modern lens, Claudius has come to be considered a mild, studious, and avuncular emporer. This is perhaps due to Robert Graves's writings and best-seller, 'I CLAVDIVS'. In truth, he was not as benevolent as portrayed and had a bloodthirsty streak, just like his predecessor, the much-reviled Caligula. Claudius also had a habit of picking the wrong women as consorts. Messalina and Agrippina proved to be disastrous. Historians are of the opinion that Agrippina was active in sending old Claudius off to reside with his ancestors. Once Claudius was out of the way. Agripinna's son, Nero, became emperor. And as we are aware, Nero is not considered one of Rome's most beloved rulers.     

My coin has suffered a great deal of wear, probably as a consequence of hundreds of years of circulation. In numismatic circles, the condition of the coin is paramount. For instance, if the coin in question is graded as 'extra fine (XF)' condition at auction, it can expect to fetch in the region of US $50,000. My coin offers no interest to collectors and, therefore, is worth its gold content which is subject to the fluctuating gold price. I estimate that in bullion terms, it is worth no more than US $120. That said, there is something magical to own a coin representing a historical event stretching back two millenium.         

God Bless Tipton!

I need a break from writing these serious and long blog posts. I need something frivolous and simple to cool my seething brain.....

Breaking news from the principality of the United States of Tipton and Associated Environs, including West Smethwick and Netherton North (USTAEWSNN)! The latest election results confirm that the new president of the USTAEWSNN is, for it is he, Colonel Ronald MacDonald Blimp (National Bolshalist Party). His opponent in this polarising presidential election, Word Lettuce Mugumbo (Darky, Lessa and Pufta Party), has been decisively defeated and totally trumped.

Blimp campaigned from a platform emphasising his promise to tackle the overriding political issues facing the principality today. Firstly, the debasement of the Tipton groat. During his tenure, the incumbent president, Senile Decrepitus, has had the tumultuous temerity to mint billions of silver coinage not supported by the principality's silver reserves. Consequently, rampant inflation has run amock. The price of turnips, the staple of the Tipton table, has gone from the humble: one groat, one turnip, to the unabashed ten groats, one turnip. Ferret food has quadrupled in price, resulting in a much slender and disgruntled Shagger. Secondly, Blimp has vowed that he will gather up all the dirty thieving gypos that have swamped the land, chuck them unto the midden pit and expunge them by conflagration. In contrast, Lettisha's policy advocates the disbursement of free fairy wands to all and sundry and the introduction of 52 new pronouns- er, that is it.

In a speech before the election, Word Lettuce stated, with conviction: "So, I think it's very important, as you have heard from so many incredible leaders, for us at every moment in time, and certainly this one, to see the moment in time in which we exist and are present, and to be able to conceptualise it, to understand where we exist in the history and in the moment as it relates not only to the past but the future." Wise words indeed, Lettuce.

After the results were announced, the outgoing president, Ramshackle, said, "I want my milk and cookies, you hear, you no good ferret soldiers."

This election was marked by unprecedented support for Word Lettuce by noted/notorious Tipton celebs. After the results, celebs came out to weep uncontrollably, gnashing their teeth in a collective, foot-stamping tantrum.

Sartor 'Legs Akimbo' Celeri has expressed extreme dismay at the unfolding proceedings and stated volubly. "I'm leaving this land of poverty-stricken proles. I'm orwf with my cache of millions of groats to live in neighbouring Dudley. Arse."

The noted thespian and mummer, Jorge Looney, had this to say after the final results showed an unequivocal win for Blimp. "Oh wow is me. A great calamity has befallen the land. A creeping miasma of doom has belched forth, enveloping the United States of Tipton and Associated Environs, including West Smethwick and Netherton North, in a stygian darkness. Blackness and a catastrophe-laden future awaits all..... Where do I cash my check?"

Indeed, folks, we live in interesting times

The Problem With Academia Part II

I naively thought that this topic could be mastered in a single blog post. This is not to be. The more I researched, the more I realised that, at the very least, two posts would be required, perhaps more.   

In a previous post, I examined the murky world of 'Academia' and discussed some of the issues that undermine the higher education system as a whole (Refer to post, 'The Problem With Academia Part I'). In today's post, I intend to take a different tack. I would like to address a topic rarely/barely broached and that is the problem of 'Academic Fraud'.  

Generally, the folks who are attracted to a career in science are not driven by expectations of becoming wealthy. Smart individuals would be better served financially if they pursued a career in law, finance, medicine or politics. There is a common conception that folk who become scientists do so because of a deep underlying curiosity to seek out new knowledge and expand their area of study for the good of mankind. Scientists are represented as being idealistic, unselfish, unworldly individuals. Perhaps unkempt and socially awkward loners with a penchant for deep intellectual thought and deep insight. Scientists hanker after a world-shaking discovery. A breakthrough in their field of study that will rewrite the history books and propel mankind into a new epoch of scientific endeavour. Enough of the histrionics, Flaxen. Let's look at the truth.    

The Reality

Scientists are no different from anyone else. As a professional scientist, I can attest to the average scientist's commonplace and banal character. As a group, they are prone to the same foibles and weaknesses that are universal. Don't believe the dominant media and societal conception of the typical scientist as 'head in the air', bookish, and socially inept. Scientists differ little from other educated, professional folk in their society. In other words, and on the whole, they are a boring lot.

Enter at your own risk- there be Dragons

Introductory Bit

Part of the problem is the 'System' itself. Anyone dreaming of an academic career faces numerous, sometimes overwhelming, challenges and hurdles. Regardless, there will always be students who are prepared to undergo the perils of higher education in the hope that they can carve out a career as a bona fide academic. Tis a perilous journey, and many will fall by the wayside in their pursuit of sublime academic repose. 

First, the enterprising student must obtain the necessary academic credentials. What follows relates specifically to the UK. Obviously, a bachelor's degree is just the start, then a master's degree and finally, the much-coveted doctor of philosophy degree (PhD). Usually, to obtain the necessary competitive funding for your PhD, you will be required to achieve a First or Upper Second Honours. There are exceptions to this rule. Having a father who is an esteemed professor in the field is a help.

The Dream. The Problem 

You are now prepared for the journey. To begin that journey, the bright-eyed and suitably educated candidate must attain a post-doctoral research position at a suitable academic institution. These positions are of a fixed term and usually no more than three years in duration. The funding is obtained from a government grant or from a commercial source. Obviously, there is a limited amount of funds available for disbursement, and thus, competition is fierce. Once suitably ensconced, the pressure to write scientific papers and publish in prestigious journals is intense. Your professorial supervisor wants publishable results. Every paper you publish sports the name of the supervisor, thus enhancing his/her professional prestige/ranking, hopefully leading to the attraction of more research gelt. And, thus, there is an incentive to produce good quality research that is worthy of publication. Sadly, not all research is sexy or productive, especially in the short term. I can personally attest to this issue. After three years of research endeavour, I was unable to produce a corpus worthy of publication- nuff said. By its nature, research seeks to expand into the unknown, trying to tease out true, verifiable knowledge. Most work is slow and tedious, with many blind ends. The poor post-doc is under the strain and burden of producing publishable work. Inevitably, there is a strong push for bulk publishing. Perhaps work that would have constituted a single paper fifty years ago is now split into three. For the unscrupulous researcher, there is an impetus to generate good positive results, and maybe those results can be gently teased toward perfection by omitting outlying or contrary data (just saying). The system, as it is currently applied, rewards the dishonest. 

After a successful stint as a post-doc, there is the possibility of obtaining a renewal of funds or perhaps a post-doctorial role becomes available at another institution. However, the 'Holy Grail' (where is the holy hand grenade of Antioch when you need it?) is academic tenure. These positions are rare and highly sought after. Your previous attainments as a post-doc now become vitally important. If tenure is obtained, you are effectively entering the hallowed world of academia as a lecturer, researcher and administrator. But forget about resting on your laurels. Your supervising professor will apply pressure for continued publication, as before. But now, you will be expected to apply for research grants yourself. With research gelt, you can now engage your own post-graduate students and post-docs, all producing publishable research. In general, the greater the volume of published work, the greater you will be rewarded. A heady mix of carrot and stick and a dangerous enticement to 'enhance' and 'tidy up' data; perhaps.......

Enough, Flaxen, Stop The Rant 

A little thoughtful reflection and balance is required. I would not like my readers to think that the whole of 'Academia' is an evil empire imbued with the sole purpose of exploitation and the generation of large quantities of all that sweet, sweet gelt. No doubt there are serious issues that need to be brought forth, discussed, and hopefully addressed.  After all the system is a reflection of the society under which we strain. Capitalism is not without its problems, but it is the best political and economic system we have. Unremitting greed is not without its merits.

In the same vein, I don't want folks to go away thinking that a large percentage of scientists are scheming, lying, conniving fraudsters; that is not the case. Most scientists express a genuine interest in their work, do not knowingly fiddle with their data and operate with integrity. For the most part, it is a small sector of the scientific community that cause the most damage.   

In the second post, I'll examine a couple of high-profile cases of frank deception, consider the data outlining the incidence of fraud in general, and discuss how the problem is to be addressed.   

Nature Always Finds a Way

First Photo: Eyes closed. Plumage At An Early Stage

Several weeks ago, as I was undertaking the unwholesome task of clearing out the house guttering, I chanced upon something rather engaging. As I glanced down from the ladder I spotted a black bird atop a nest.  This enterprising couple had decided to build their nest atop my external water heater. A slight digression is required: I mentioned 'couple' when I should have said 'male of the species'. For it is he who carefully and lovingly constructs the nest from random organic material. Once built, he hopes that the position of the nest and build quality are sufficient to attract a mate and, from then, raise a clutch of young fledglings. The position of the nest is vitally important. Usually, the male bird will look for a site within a tree. A prime location is desired, as the nest site influences eventual reproductive success, not only in the realm of nestling survival but also in attracting a mate in the first instance. Female blackbirds are fastidiously selective. In 'Nature' reproductive success is the ultimate metric to be satisfied in this world. A position within the canopy that is hidden from ariel predators such as hawks and other predatory birds is highly desired. Also, terrestrial predators need to be accounted for. In  New Zealand, this mainly refers to cats. While it is true that my adopted country is lacking in ground predatory species, it is introduced critters that small birds fear. NZ is not only overrun with rats, as I can attest, but also domestic and not-so-domestic feral felines. 

Atop my ladder I had the perfect spy position to observe the feathered interlopers. The adult bird had flown off and I could see three, perfectly still, babies. At this stage of development, they were lacking in feather protection and had huddled together. Their stillness is a protective mechanism with the hope that potential predators will pass them by. Anyway, I felt it prudent to discontinue the cleaning process as I did not want to overstress the young birds and parents.

I have to admit the adult birds had chosen a perfect spot to raise their young. The wall heater is protected by the eaves, which in our case are wide. Not only is the site protected from the elements, but it is also hidden from the ever-watchful hawk that parades our/his territory. In addition, the elevated position of the perch provides adequate protection from cats and rats. And finally, the nest is kept relatively warm by the wall heater on which it perches. Continual heat is generated by the pilot light and occasionally topped up with a burst of heat due to domestic use. This is crucial during New Zealand's early to mid-spring weather, especially in the Wairarapa, as we are prone to 'cold spells', which can be disastrous for fledglings. As a case in point. A few years back, blackbirds had made a nest on an elevated tree stump on my property. Its position, under the canopy of an adjacent gum tree, gave protection from hawks but would have been vulnerable to the local enterprising feline population. At the time, my daughter and her family were living with us, and I thought it would be a great project for my 10-year-old granddaughter to follow the nestling's development. Every day, we would take photos of the nest, and I would comment on how the birds were progressing. Not long into the project, we experienced a particularly cold snap, and sadly, the little birds succumbed. My granddaughter was obviously upset, and I was moved to explain a few cruel but inevitable facts of life and nature. 

A couple of weeks ago, Mrs Saxon suffered a medical emergency and was taken to the local hospital, where she remained for seven days. Obviously, during this time, I became distracted and stopped monitoring our feathered friends. Today I checked the nest to find it bereft of occupancy. It is my fervent hope that the three feathered young ones survived the ordeal that is early development and survived, thrived and went forth to prosper in a hard and unpredictable world. I can find no evidence to the contrary. 

Last Photo: Babies Waxing Fat. Note The Glorious Plumage

SPQR

Don't Fuck With The Romans

The enigma that is ancient Rome. How Rome became a vast empire, at its height, controlling 5,000,000 square kilometres, is a fascinating story indeed. In 550 BC, Rome was no more than a collection of mud huts spread over seven hills overlooking the river Tiber, no different from many other small communities spread across the Italian peninsula. In fact, the dominant people of the region were the Etruscans. The Etruscans were a mysterious people who formed a loose confederation of cities controlling most of central and north Italy. It is likely that Rome of c550 BC was ruled by Etruscan kings. According to legend, the last king, Tarquinus Superbus, was expelled in 509 BC, and Rome became free of foreign rule. We now enter a period that becomes Roman history proper, free from legend and myth, at least for the most part. Thus, we are on a sure footing (with minor miss steps) when we state that by 509 BC, Rome was ruled by two elected consuls. This political system proved remarkably robust/stable and lasted until the usurpation of power by the first Emporer, Octavian, in 27 BC.    

The young republic faced many problems and soon fell into conflict with its neighbours. War was effectively continuous, nay endemic. Each year an army was raised and sent out on campaign during the summer months to cause mayhem. Rome's early army was a militia composed of land-owning citizens. It was essentially a middle-class fighting force composed of men who could afford the expense of purchasing their own military equipment. Roman armies of the period were far from the typical portrayal of the highly trained and disciplined Roman legions. By c341 BC, Rome dominated the surrounding Latin cities and had forged alliances of varying merit. This was essential as the young republic had many enemies. At this period, they were mainly at loggerheads with the Etruscans, but they also had enemies to the southeast (Samnites) and to the south (Volsci). 

The above preamble still does not address the reasons why Rome proved different from its neighbours. However, by 509 BC, the seeds of their future success had been planted. Each of these elements is now considered.

Acceptance

Rome was not exclusive. After conquering their Latin neighbours, they were willing to incorporate them in partnership, offering full citizenship in some circumstances and advantageous military alliances to others. This benevolent incorporation was not something that was widespread in the ancient world, particularly in Mediterranean societies in general. Certainly, the Greeks were vehemently exclusive to their ultimate detriment and that was the dominant view amongst most ancient peoples. Usually, conquered cities were looted and destroyed, and the population enslaved. Roman domination of Latium was relatively benign for ancient times, and usually, all they asked of the conquered Latin state was military assistance. Thus, Rome had access to large numbers of troops, many of which were not Roman. This conferred on the nascent state a degree of military resilience not given to near-sighted, parsimonious others. It meant that a single defeat in battle or a series of defeats was not necessarily disastrous. Roman armies had a hydra-like quality of regeneration, and as long as they won the last battle of the war, previous defeats were not catastrophic calamities. For instance, during the Second Punic War (218-201 BC), the Romans lost 250,000 men in battle but raised 750,000 men during this time and ultimately won the war.

This acceptance of 'others' was nothing new to the Romans. The legends and myths of earlier times emphasised the concept of foreign incorporation. And if there is any kernel of truth in these stories, early Rome was a haven for runaways, criminals and assorted vagabonds. 'The Famous Rape of the Sabines' ended well with the amalgam of Romans and Sabines- what an uplifting story!

Roman Character

The Romans had an idea of the perfect Roman Citizen. Now, this concept is one only reserved for the rich patricians, and undoubtedly, the plebians were too busy pushing the plough to have such high-minded principles. Whilst researching this very question I found a list of 15 qualities expected of the noble Roman. I'll not bore you with a full exposition here. In essence: resilience, respectability, dignity, piety and devolution to family and ancestors. Undoubtedly, the recipient of such qualities may have represented the symbol of the perfect Roman patrician, although, in reality, such individuals would be as rare as rocking horse droppings. Perhaps Cinncinatus and Cato the Elder are about as close as we can get. Anyone close to this ideal, although 'perfect', would have proved particularly boring dinner guests. No one wants to continually hear "Carthago  Delenda Est" after every course.

No doubt the Romans had a practical, no-nonsense hardness about them as you would expect from a rude bucolic folk. And yet we see this strange, oddly sitting dichotomy of character. In combination with flint hard, pragmatic rationalism and dogged resilience, we encounter a devotion to irrational rites and superstition. Not quite to the level of Eastern despotic reveries, but strange bedfellows indeed. Luckily for the Romans, their steadfast resilience would prove transcendent as they would have to draw on these indefatigable reserves in the centuries to come. The Samnite wars, Latin rebellions, Pyrrhic and especially the second Punic war would quaff deep into their resilience to the very dregs. And it was this ability to rebound and continue that would truly define the 'Roman Character' and would prove an important element in their overall success. This neatly brings me to their mode of government.

Government

I've previously written a post concerning the Roman Republican system. It might be a good idea to read this post first, as I don't have the space here to devote more than a cursory glance at its contrived strengths and weaknesses. Read here.   

After the Romans threw off the shackles of kingship, they developed a flexible and adaptable system of government. It would evolve and change over time to overcome and acknowledge new political realities. The Republic of Rome lasted for 500 years and the latter 275 years, in my opinion, represents Rome's 'Golden Age'. The Republican system combined the necessary checks and balances essential for political stability and for the prevention of usurpation of power. It ultimately failed for complex reasons. Even before the frank seizure of power under the Empire, the cracks were starting to show. Toward the end, the Roman Senate and people were increasingly at the mercy of successful generals controlling large bodies of troops. In simple terms, the Republican system failed due to the practicalities involved in controlling a large empire. The system had produced large professional armies which owed their allegiance to their Imperator and to gelt. No longer was the army imbued with the spirit of upholding the sanctity of SPQR. Rome entered into one-man rule. Initially, those men were successful generals, but once established, the hereditary principle took hold, as it always does. Rome reverted back to kings, although the Romans despised the name 'Rex'. The Emperor was King in all but name.

In simple terms: Rome's rugged, adaptable, solid and flexible political system greatly influenced their early successes.     

Roman Arms

As said, the Roman army of the early Republic operated as a middle-class militia. Evidence suggests that this army borrowed much from its northern neighbours, the Etruscans. The Etruscans adapted and adopted their arms from the Greeks, and as such, their armies copied hoplite warfare. Thus, early Roman warfare was conducted as a phalanx but with a significant number of interspersed light troops derived from the young, less well-off citizens. From who and when the Romans adopted the classical rectangular scutum is debatable. The scutum was used by Rome's mortal enemies, the Samnites, but it could have been adopted earlier than the Samnite wars (343-290 BC) as it was a common type of shield in the Latium of the 4th century BC. The Samnites, for the most part, occupied the central hill country of Italy, and a rigid hoplite system would not suit this terrain. It is thought that the Romans changed from the inflexible phalanx to an open manipular system that best suited fighting in Samnite lands. This new form of warfare instilled a high degree of tactical elasticity not given to closed phalanx fighting.

During and following the Hanniballic War (218-201 BC), Rome inevitably developed from a militia to a standing professional army. Training became increasingly rigorous and efficient. The combination of arms and armour, and especially the use of scutum, pila and gladius, were devasting in the hands of well-trained troops. The development of tactical flexibility and flair had its part to play. No longer were the men bunched up into a tight formation. Men were free to exercise their arms to devastating effect. Under skilled and gifted commanders, the Roman Army became an irresistible force forever on the lookout for war, looting and territorial expansion. Few could resist and stand fast against Roman power.  

Conclusion  

This will have to do as this post is drifting into the dreaded 'TOO LONG TO READ' territory. I'm sure there are other factors involved- I'd be grateful for any readership enlightenment. In conclusion, a complex mix of forces and factors would coalesce in the Roman psyche. A combination of political cohesion, the national character of perseverance and fortitude, and the ability to raise large numbers of highly-trained well equipped, professional soldiers were no doubt crucial to Roman success. And let us not forget the sound military efficiency of the Roman military system as a whole, including efficient logistics. I hope my steadfast readers managed to last 'till the end. As always, comments are very welcome.  

  

 

Poof Didler

Party Never Stops

Breaking news from the sleepy town of Tipton (including Smethwick North, Dudley South, and Merry Hill). Today, it can be revealed that the renowned Tipton music impresario and mogul Poof Didler, aka Seth Grimthorp, has been arrested on charges of 'being a very naughty boy'. He was taken into custody by Inspector Nipper 'ferret' of the yard, who issued a brief statement: "After a thorough investigation by our elite Naughty Squad, Mr Didler has been charged with a variety of offences against nature under the Gross Moral Turpitude Act."

Poof arose as a central figure and a prominent member of the 'Clog Dancing Scene' in the 90s, along with other 'Cloggers', including ', Medium Size Whopper (deceased), Sixpac (deceased), Dogy, Do Do (feeling a bit poorly), Dr Fryup (moribund) and Ice Tray (feeling OK).

Poof quickly emerged as the unofficial leader of the Clog Dancing fraternity and accrued immense wealth from his performances on stage (Tipton Penny Threatre). He seamlessly entered the select group of Tipton's wealthy glitterati, comprising notable celebrities, film stars, politicians and gangsters. It was during this time that Poof became renowned for his parties, colloquially called 'Three Day Benders'. Local luminaries and up-and-coming 'starlets' would flock to his mansion next to and adjacent to the Tipton to Birmingham canal and midden pit. Rumours abounded about the strange activities and going ons during these royal piss-ups. It did not go unnoticed that all the dwarfs, midgets, elves (surely some mistake?)  and associated little folk went missing from the Metropolitan West Midland environs during Poof's 'Bring a Freak Party'. 

Although the Tipton Constublary was actively aware of the nefarious activities occurring during these frequent escapades, they did nowt. All changed after a rush of allegations of abuse from a slew of past lovers and a coterie of dwarf folk. Inspector 'Ferret of the Yard' led an elite team of officers who investigated Poof's activities culminating in Poof's arrest last Thursday.

On searching Poof's mansion, they found a dungeon, a gimp in full array, and a thousand pounds of exotic lard. It has been rumoured that there are video recordings akimbo documenting 'party' activities. Apparently, the videos are on sale at Mr Khan's Emporium of Cheap Tat and Shit for two groats apiece or six for 10 groats. 

Didler has been interred in the infamous Tipton Gaol. Apparently, Poof is on suicide watch, and his cell is constantly inspected when the guards can be arsed. It is feared that Didlier may end up accidentally falling down a disused mine shaft. 

The video surveillance cameras in Tipton Gaol are scheduled for routine washing/scrubbing on Tuesday. During the procedure, surveillance will be unavailable.

Poof's funeral is scheduled for next Wednesday.

My Research and other Musings

Pleasure is a fine thing if judicially applied. Good things must be added with a thin brush to remain exquisite. Light strokes are imperative lest they lose their delicate, oh-so-delicious touch. Future and further coats should be applied at infrequent intervals. 

If only we all could follow the rules as boldly stated above. But no, the restraint required is not given to all, and so they indulge too much too frequently, and what once was highly sensual and enticing becomes mundane and banal.

Titus Mugumbo Maximus (c 45 BC)

Anyway, what has just been stated has nothing to do with the following post, but I felt the sage words bubbling from within and impinging on my very being. My tumultuous mind begged their expression here and now, and thus they are to be expressed. The author notes that their placement is inappropriate, although ultimately necessary. So there.

Back to the post in hand. Below you are privileged to view important research I conducted whilst a young scientist. It relates to the vexed and controversial area of 'intelligence' and various associated qualities, genetically fixed or otherwise. At the time of publication, my research was criticised due to my failure to objectively define the concept colloquially referenced as 'intelligence'. I refrained from a formal definition as I took for granted that the concept was one ingrained in the public consciousness, and further comment was unnecessary redundancy. I acknowledge, after mature and considered reflection, that my egregious omission represented a categorical error worthy of correction. Therefore, for the sake of clarity, I proffer the following addendum. Intelligence can be defined: The ability to score highly on applied intelligence tests. Nuff said.      

Tip. J. Int. Res: 52 (3) 102-104. 2014

A systematic approach to assess the impact of non-standard names on intelligence quotients (IQ): A retrospective study

Dr Saxon, F. and Prof Mugumbo, L. Tipton Institute of Difficult Sums and Stuff, UK.

Introduction

Intellectual disability (fuckwittus maximus) is characterised by significant limitations in both intellectual functioning and learning profiles (FM). The aetiology of FM is often unknown, although genetic and compounding environmental factors have been implicated. Anecdotal evidence suggests that there is a positive correlation between non-standard names and mental retardation. We suggest a systematic formalisation of non-standard names, and using retrospective data culled from the Tipton census (1900 to 2013 inclusive), we attempt to provide data to support the null hypothesis: shit names =  thick folk.

Methodology 

Research into this valuable area has often been hampered by the lack of a systematic and widely accepted definition of non-standard names. For our purposes, a non-standard, or shit name, is one which incites lip-curling derision in any reasonable research professor. We acknowledge that names that were once considered 'piss poor' have now entered mainstream status (e.g. Wayne and Sharon- call me Shazza). Nonetheless, anyone with an ounce of taste would still consider the recipients of such names as below contempt. Having established a formal definition, it is necessary to delineate the research population under consideration. The Tipton census (c 1900-2013) was plundered for succulent data. Cohorts were established according to decade. One hundred randomly picked names were assigned to two discrete categories: 1. Nice middle-class names, which you would be happy to assign to the fruit of your loins; 2. Woeful appendages that you would not call your pet hamster (or ferret). The names Kevin and Tracy were excluded from the study based on arbitrary taste.     

The data was subject to a non-parametric meta-analysis.

Results

Fig. 1

The data shows a clear statistical and valid correlation between fucking diabolical first names and intellectual deficits. Of particular note, the following names were associated with profound intellectual retardation: Paris, Devon, Tipton and Brittany. In fact, any name associated with a piece of real estate automatically rendered the owner as 'brain fucked'. Likewise, any name that really should have been a last name showed similar 'tardation' tendencies. For instance, Madison, Spencer, Evan and anything starting with Mac should have been strangled at birth. Within this category, we include those names with non-conventional spelling or appellation. Consider, for example, the following monstrosities: Jaxson, Jawge, Sighman and Fr8t-Train. In addition, it has not gone unnoticed that celebrities have a penchant for assigning their children bizarre and highly unconventional names. Certain sectors of the socio-economic strata are apt to ape the behaviour and mores of the rich and famous. This strata, due to poor cerebral processing, consider that giving their children eccentric celebrity names, fictional or not, will somehow, by processes unknown, confer the cache and wealth associated with the world of the 'Rich and Famous'. The consequences are far-reaching, and currently, we are observing a rash of six-year-olds called Khaleesi, Daenerys and Jorah.

Discussion

Our study unequivocally supports the contention that shit names are positively correlated with low IQs and frank intellectual deficits. Furthermore, individuals called Flint, Loshandra and Donatello are more likely to end up in a correctional institution or a home for the terminally befuddled than someone called Frank or Emma. In conclusion: Anyone with a non-standard first name should be sequestered at birth and quietly smothered. Their parents should be imbued with the illusion that their offspring (for it is they) have been taken orf by a wandering band of Spanish gypos and are fated to dance the flamenco for an eternity......

Potential Future Studies

It has not gone unnoticed by the authors that this trait may have an inheritable genetic component. Therefore, it is suggested that further studies be directed at measuring parental IQs in order to establish whether there is a hereditary component to this phenomenon. It is strongly suspected that 'arse brain' is inherited as an autosomal codominant factor. Although maternal/paternal uniparental disomy cannot be ruled out.

          References and Citations

Available on request

Await my second paper on this topic with bated breath. Do not worry, gentle reader; it cometh soon, very soon.

Anabasis

The Anabasis by Xenophon

This historic, epic tale is not well known outside the dusty cloisters of acadaemia. This is inexplicable to me, as it is a rip-roaring, rollicking story worthy of the attention of Hollywood moguls. Then again, considering their previous attempts to place ancient history on celluloid, it is best if they leave well alone. For instance, does anyone remember the film Alexander, starring Colin Farrell? Nuff said.

I recommend either reading the book or, as I did, listening to the audiobook produced by Librivox. It takes just over nine hours but is well worth the trouble. I heard as I lay supine (double redundancy) adorned with ear pods in a darkened room, engulfed by the narrator's dulcet tones. My third enrouged (not a real word) nipple poked precariously through a tiny rent in my nightshirt and wobbled in accordance with the cadence/rhythm of the recital. 

The Setting

In 401 BC, Cyrus The Younger rebelled against his brother, the Persian king, Artaxerxes. He gathered an army of perhaps 20,000, which included 10,000 Greek mercenary troops. At the battle of Cunaxa, near Babylon, Cyrus was killed by a javelin to the head, and the battle ended with a victory for Artaxerxes. During the battle, Cyrus' Greek mercenaries suffered few casualties but had a significant problem. They were bereft of benefactor and were stranded 1,000 miles from home. At this point, the leaders of the Greek host decided to treat with the enemy. Treachery befell the Greek generals, who were captured and sent back to Babylon for execution. This bold move left the Greeks leaderless and in despair. At this desperate point, a mid-ranking officer named Xenophon took control and exhorted the men to strike for their homeland.  

Anabasis or 'Forward March'

The Greek force was mainly composed of heavy infantry (hoplites), with a number of Cretan archers, Rhodian slingers, and others. They faced the daunting task of travelling 1,000 miles through enemy-contested rugged terrain. In addition, they had scant supplies and would have to rely on plunder and barter to obtain sufficient food for themselves and fodder for the animals. Xenophon and his merry band were in a difficult position, indeed. Obtaining necessary supplies was only one of their problems. The Persians were not too happy about an army of Greek mercenaries roaming at will through Persian-controlled territory. Therefore, the satraps whose land they travelled were compelled to contest their journey and set forth to destroy the Greeks. In this respect, they failed. Even though the Greeks were subject to severe attack, they managed to maintain cohesion and remained an effective fighting force throughout, even after incurring severe losses. Not only did the host have to face Persian troops under the wily and treacherous satrap Tissaphernes, but even when left unmolested by Persian regulars, they faced attacks by barbarians hoping to gain plunder and slaves. The Greeks ultimately prevailed, and after much tribulation and extreme hardship, 6,000 made it to the safety of Trabzon on the Black Sea coast.

Many years after the event, Xenophon put stylus to papyrus and wrote about the escapade in simple but engaging Attic Greek prose.   

I'm not going into detail about this remarkable journey, but I want to offer brief commentary concerning the implications and consequences for the Persian Empire in the aftermath. Again, I exhort my readership to go forth and immerse themselves in this monumental and fascinating tale of men overcoming and succeeding amidst severe hardship and privation.

It did not go unnoticed by the Greeks and others that the passage of these bold and doughty warriors through Persia could not be stopped by the mighty Persian empire and the 'King of Kings'. In previous contests between the Greeks and Persians (Persian, Greek wars 5th century BC ), the Greek hoplite system had established superiority over the mainly light infantry displayed by the Persians. The triumphant march of the 10,000 reinforced hoplite battlefield dominance and uncovered grave weaknesses within this apparently mighty empire. The Greeks muttered: ''If the Persians cannot overcome a small Greek force, what would happen if faced by a mighty host''. Thus, the Persian king and his armies were nowhere as formidable as formerly believed. 

Many landless Greek troops, battle-hardened and honed by the Peloponnesian war (431-404 BC), were clambering for foreign adventure. If only they could coalesce under one unified command. In that case, they would represent a formidable force. However, that was not to be for reasons, mainly political. No doubt, the political scene was complex and convoluted. The fierce independent mentality of the Greek city-state did in no way align with pan-Helenic unity. The city-states formed loose alliances for military defence or aggression as expediency demanded. However, these alliances were fragmentary and liable for disruption if self-absorbed petty grievances or alternative opportunities arose. Athens and its allies jockeyed to increase their empire and thwart Spartan hegemony. The self-destructive war that followed (Peloponnesian war) ended with a Spartan victory. Spartan dominance was short-lived, however, and Spartan power was forever broken at the battle of Leuctra, which ended in a Theban victory (371 BC). During this fractious, politically fluid, and rapidly evolving time, Greeks formed alliances with Persians for action against fellow Greeks. Treachery and deceit were rampant and commonplace. The political will and foresight to form a pan-Hellenic army was totally lacking. 

Indeed, though Persia was ripe for picking and undoubtedly rotten to the core, the Greek genius could not forge the political unity necessary to enact this destruction. For all their achievements, the Greeks lacked the fundamental political nous and concerted wisdom that would characterise their ultimate conquerors, the Romans. It would take the genius of the semi-barbarous Macedonians, under Phillip and subsequently Alexander, to contrive and pound the petulant Greeks into One. But only by the power of the sword. Under Macedonian hegemony, at last, and under unified command, the Greeks were able to destroy and supplant Persian power at the battle of Gaugamela (331 BC). The Greek flair for suicidal despair imposed from within could only be countered from without.     

Free Money Fairy

Money for nothin' and your chicks for free

O dear me, there are a few basic truths in this world that should guide the wise through this veil of tears we call life. If you do not abide by these universal rules, your life will be adversely affected. These rules are usually imparted whilst young and by those older than ourselves, generally those who fulfil a parental role. The incipient and intellectually growing individual needs to take heed. There are those in life, for reasons that are eminently clear who wantonly ignore these basic and universal axioms. Folk who do not follow these fundamental maxims are not hard to identify as they suffer from a medical condition of no known cure called Fuckwittius Maximus.   

A Tik Tok trend of late has been exalting the 'Chase Free Money Glitch'.

Background.

Here is how it goes: Chase Bank is a major financial institution based in the US. Apparently, and according to internet lore, there is a 'glitch' in Chase Bank's system that allows access to wads of 'Free Cash'. Simply write a cheque to yourself for a large amount and deposit said cheque using a Chase ATM. The amount, as if by magic, will instantly appear in your account. You are then able to withdraw the amount, and thus, you are the recipient of a great deal of free gelt. Hurrah! 

Newly wealthy folk are posting videos online showing themselves holding clumps of crisp, nay uncrumpled, dollar bills. What on earth could go wrong? Queues of people have been observed outside Chase banks, waiting hours so that they, too, can lay hands on all that absolutely free lucre. Apparently, all this insanity took place during a US holiday weekend, and banks were closed until Tuesday. However, the bank was quick to note the problem, and on Tuesday, participants were shocked to discover that their accounts were devoid of funds and, strangely enough, the debit equalled the amount they thought was 'free cash'. O, woe is them.      

What could ever go wrong?  

Well, it turns out that writing and cashing cheques that do not have the backing of the requisite funds is called bank fraud. And bank fraud is taken very seriously by the banks and the government. As I understand it, this type of crime is punishable by up to 30 years in the nick, as well as incurring a hefty fine. Not only is the escapade a crime, but it is also a very stupid crime, as the perpetrators have left an easy trail leading back to themselves. Thousands of folk are involved and it will be interesting to see how this plays out. Personally, I have no sympathy for those who break the most rudimentary and elemental life rule: There is no such thing as free money. 

It has not gone unnoticed by the flaxen-haired one that the folk involved belong to a distinct ethnic group. Nuff said. 

Protocell Revisited

It Was RNA 

It is time for me to adjust my neural brainwaves to a frequency in concordance with a 'sensible' scientific topic. While it is true that I have previously presented a post on the highly vexed topic of Abiogenesis, this topic is so controversial, immeasurably complex, and convoluted that it is worth a second look.

For me, the evolution of early life is a fascinating topic, but not as interesting as the original formulation of life itself. When we find evidence of early life in the rocks, that life is already highly complex and highly evolved. But if we look back further in time, what did the first ‘life’ look like? And more importantly, how did this first primordial life come about? Is it possible somehow to resurrect, in a Mad Scientist’s test tube or surreal dream, the very first proto-life, and if so, would we recognise it as such? Now that IS a question. 

I've discussed LUCA (Last Universal Common Ancestor) before. It is the organism that gave rise to all life on Earth as we know it. LUCA, it is conjectured, was hanging around deep water thermal vents 4 billion years ago. There is a common misconception that LUCA was primitive and the only creature in town. But LUCA had already evolved a complex metabolism with enzymes, RNA and ribosomes. And it was not alone but highly likely part of a complex interweb of organisms. These diverse cells would have formed an enclosed ecological system.  

Darwin was well aware that although his theory of natural selection was a wonderful descriptor of how species can change over time, he was at a total loss as to how life came to be. He imagined a 'warm little pond' where all the chemical precursors of life were present. How those precursors came about and how they interacted to produce the first protocell was a concept behind his ken. Since Darwin, we have come a long way in understanding the conditions present on primitive Earth 4.5 to 3.5 billion years ago. Furthermore, our knowledge of biochemistry, genetics, geology and palaeontology has improved in ways incomprehensible to the great man. 

It is likely that 'life' first came about, not in Darwin's 'warm little pond', but on the rim of volcanic vents deep within our primitive oceans a little over 4 billion years ago. I place 'life' in parentheses as the entity that subsequently developed further to give rise to all life on Earth was not alive in any biological sense, at least as we understand it today. We must suspend our concept of life and substitute the notion of proto-life instead. The first proto-life would be extremely primitive, perhaps just a lipid sphere containing a jumble/jungle of inorganic and organic compounds that had the ability to break apart due to dynamic physical processes in its environment. 

Of course, conditions on Earth 4 billion years ago were vastly different from what we see today. The atmosphere was dominated by carbon dioxide, water vapour, and methane; oxygen was not a component. The oceans were a mix of salts and inorganic chemicals; however, hydrovolcanic vents would be a rich source of chemical reactions as they spewed forth sulphur, carbon dioxide, and hydrogen-rich gases.     

Three conditions would have to be met for the formation of proto-life. Clearly, a stable, relatively quiescent environment is required if chemicals are to be localised. Free-floating chemicals at the rim of hydrovolcanic vents would be dispersed by thermal currents, and concentration would be impossible. Therefore, some form of compartmentalisation would have been necessary. This could be achieved by the formation of lipid bilayers. Lipids have the interesting feature of having a hydrophilic domain (water-loving) and a hydrophobic chain (water-repellant). Lipids spontaneously form bilipid chains in a water environment, which naturally coalesce into water-containing spheres. However, in seawater, lipid vesicles will not form in the presence of salts such as sodium and calcium. This is a problem for the hypothesis of life first appearing at the sites of hydrothermal vents.  However, recent evidence has shown that lipid vesicles can form in the presence of salts if the water temperature achieves 70ºC and the pH increases to 12. A hot alkaline environment readily occurs around oceanic hydrothermal vents.

The presence of lipid spheres achieves several important functions. First, it offers a stable enclosed system, separate from the ebb and flow of the external environment. Second, the lipid bilayer allows molecules to enter and leave. Third, a primitive form of 'replication' may ensue. Continuous addition of lipids by physical forces will result in enlargement, and once a critical stage is reached, and in the presence of physical agitation, the spheres will spontaneously bud off 'daughter' sphere configurations.

Life, in any form, requires energy. Even the most primitive present-day bacteria have a complex metabolism (glycolysis) for the production of adenosine triphosphate (ATP). ATP is the energy currency of all living cells necessary to stave off the inevitable march of entropy. The cells of more complex organisms (eukaryotes) also harness the powers of glycolysis for ATP production, however. in addition, there is a second mechanism (Krebb's cycle), localised in the organelle, mitochondria, that continues with the initial oxidative process started by the glycolysis that ends up producing a great deal of ATP, or potential energy in the process. Clearly, the first protocell did not have the complex metabolic machinery for energy production as outlined above. It would have been reliant on the energy belching forth from the hydrothermal vents. In the presence of heat, carbon dioxide and free hydrogen, energy is released in addition to the formation of complex carbon chain chemicals. By harnessing the energy and organic compounds, it has been hypothesised that a primitive chemical 'metabolism' may have actually taken place.

Finally, a means of genetic transmission is required. Nucleic acids, particularly ribonucleic acid and deoxyribonucleic acid fulfil this role. Of the two, RNA is more easily produced, forms single chains and is inherently unstable. A primitive RNA molecule may have provided a genetic blueprint for replication and mutation. The ferment of the hydrothermal vent environment is not an environment conducive to nucleic acid generation, and therefore, an alternative source is required. There is the possibility that organic compounds were imported through the medium of stellar objects. Complex chemistry can occur in the vast reaches of space. Bombardment by intense solar radiation provides the energy to generate organic compounds from simple elements. Analysis of meteorites has revealed a complex and diverse array of organics and nucleic acids. The possible role of extraterrestrial bombardment in providing life's precursors should not be underestimated. The early Earth was severely pelted by comets, asteroids and comets during the 'Heavy Bombardment' phase of its existence. Indeed, it is conjectured that much of Earth's water was provided by comet impacts.   

I'm making the whole process seem easy and inevitable, but there is a major problem. On its own, an RNA-based replication system is not enough. There has to be a conglomeration of molecules that can translate the RNA message into amino acids, the precursors for protein synthesis. Tis a chicken and egg conundrum. Which came first: RNA responsible for the genetic code driving protein production and replication or proteins necessary for RNA to do its job. Both are required to cooperate at the same time. According to the 'RNA World Hypothesis', a primitive RNA molecule fulfilled both roles. However, when it comes to the details, scientists are in disagreement. I have touched on this hypothesis previously, but only in a perfunctory manner. To do this hypothesis justice, it will require a blog post in itself- I'm working on it          

I do not wish to downplay the problems to be overcome or plaster over the glaring, gaping cracks in our understanding. Those of a religious bent are quick to gloat and shout: “God did it”. Is this the last bastion of God of the Gaps?-  or perhaps cracks? To say an invisible unknown entity 'does it' by means unknown is tantamount to magic and wand waving, and therefore, in the final analysis, no answer at all. I'm comfortable with the notion that we simply don't know how the first proto-organism got started. We are working on the problem and can be assured that if we do finally understand how it happened, it will be through the work of sound empirical scientific effort and not a consequence of theology. Nuff said, for now.  

Night of the Demon

                                      Who's a Pretty Boy, Den

This will be the first and most likely the last time that I discuss a film's merits, artistic or otherwise.

I'm taking time out from writing my usual drivel to comment on an old British black-and-white film from the 1950s: The Night of the Demon or Curse of the Demon as it was rebranded for the US audience. In addition to the name change, the film was truncated by 15 minutes. The Americans deemed it necessary to cut out a couple of subplots in order for the film to fit into their double-feature format. I've watched both versions and the unsullied version is superior and well worth its inclusion of minor distractions. 

I don't intend to summarise the plot, as you may well wish to view the film for yourself if you haven't already done so, and I do not want to curtail your viewing pleasure. In this post, my intention is to bring out a few highlights and comment in my inestimable style. Beware, there will be disclosures and perhaps the odd digression with the emphasis on 'odd'. You have been warned! 

Context

I first watched the film whilst young, at about the age of 7. I remember being transfixed and scared shitless, although I enjoyed the film immensely. Of course, at the tender age of 7, most of what transpired was lost on my fulminating brain. Role forward 51 years, I am now comfortably ensconced in rural New Zealand. My son lives and works in the capital city of Wellington about a two-hour drive from where we live. He is a busy man, and consequently, I don't get to see him as often as I would like. On those intermittent occasions when he comes to see his parents, we generally arrange what is colloquially called 'Gangster Night'. Tis a night where myself and second born retreat from our respective wives, leaving them to watch drivel in the living room whilst we become lodged in the lounge. We confer and select a film for our viewing pleasure. Our selection is of undoubted quality, gritty and usually comes with a body count. During the film, we consume fine ales, and afterwards, we comment and discuss the film in detail. On my son's last visit, I suggested Night of the Demon, a film that I had not seen for five decades.   

Filmy Bit

The film was directed by the acclaimed horror director Jacques Tourneur and starred Dana Andrews, Peggy Cummins, and Niall MacGinnis. Although it is a British film, the male lead, Dana Andrews, is American. Post war British films of the 40s and 50s always seem to feature an American actor in the male lead role. This was no accidental quirk. British films of the era were produced for a dual market, and the presence of an American in a prominent role garnished the film to suit the American palate. At the time of filming Dana Andrews was a fading star and was bereft of the cachet he had had in the 1940's. That said, Mr Andrews acquitted his role competently and with due professionalism. However, gone was the sparkle of an earlier decade and an air of 'contractual obligation' was evident in his gait. Or perhaps he was getting old. 

The accolade of 'Star' must go to the Irish character actor Niall MacGinnis. In the film, he is the counterpoint to white hat-wearing Dana Andrews. He fulfils the role of the archetypal baddy, dare I say it, with veritable aplomb. Apparently, the character he plays, Julian Karswell, is loosely based on the 'Wickedest Man in England', Alister Crowley. Niall plays an occult leader for a group of local followers. His skill with the dark arts has given him immense power and wealth, and he resides with his mother in a grand, graceful mansion. There is a hint that although his dark powers have provided him well, there is always a foul debt ultimately to be paid. It is as if Karswell holds a wolf by his ears. Niall is the master of understated horror. There is evil in this man, but it is not overt, certainly not in the way of a Hollywood villain complete/replete with maniacal laughter. Karswell's projection of cultured menace is the perfect foil to Dana Andrew's initially uncomprehending and befuddled character (Dr John Holden). Evil comes in many forms, and there is something to be said for philosopher Hannah Arendt's concept of 'The banality of evil', but not in this case. Niall's projection is not banal in any respect. Evil is present, but it is not commonplace. Evil abides in all of us but, for the most part, is kept in check by the intellect. Dr Karswell projects a fractured, erudite intellect which extrudes an air of menace with quiet abandon. We are not witnesses to the banality of evil; on the contrary, tis more akin to the 'urbanity of evil'. As a digression, Niall McGinnis was a qualified MD and served as a military surgeon in the second World War. It is difficult to state which was the side gig, doctoring or acting as he had over 80 films in his filmography. A very underrated character actor, in my opinion.  

Peggy Cummins is the film's 'almost love interest.' She is attractive in a well-groomed secretarial way, very British, even though she is Irish and strictly opposite to the Hollywood vamp of the 1930s and 1940s. Tis ironic as Miss Cummins is mainly remembered for playing a femme fatale in the 1950 crime film noir, Gun Crazy. In Night of The Demon, Peggy's main plot role is to provide an adroit intellectual counterpoint to Dr Holden's hard scepticism.

 Hal E Chester, the producer, and the director Jacques Torneur had significant artistic differences during the film's production. Tourneur envisaged an imaginative horror film with the portrayal of the titular demon left for the viewer to conjure in their own fertile or otherwise imagination. However, in the final cut, the demon became manifest at the beginning and end of the film. Considering the technology of the time, the portrayal of the huge lumbering bat-faced demon was reasonably good. However, I agree with Tourneur that some things are best left to the imagination. The weakest moment transpires when our doughty hero, Dr Holden, grapples with the cat cum leopard. It is clear that our protagonist is wrestling with a stuffed animal. That said, with the use of shadow and adept camera work, Tourneur saves the scene from outright farce. just. 

For me, the best scenes occur during Karswell and Holden's meeting in the British Museum's library; Holden's marrow-chilling 'run through the woods' after breaking into Karswell's home. There is something 'Wolfmanesque' as the clouds cut out the full moon, and lastly, there is the unforgettable Niall MacGinnis—in fact, any scenes in which he is part.

I remember, vaguely a British horror series presented sometime in the late 60s (Mystery and Imagination). One of the stories presented was The Casting of the Runes which had a similar plot run to the film discussed. Both the film and episode, of course, were adapted from a short story by M. R. James entitled Casting of the Runes.  I remember very little about the episode, although I recall the featured demon was winged- I could be wrong. Sadly, all the episodes from the series seem to have been lost. 

That's enough for now. I'm happy to write further film reviews in my characteristic, jumpy, quirky and idiosyncratic vein if my regulars consider my meanderings along this route favourable. Regardless of opinion, I would like to hear your thoughts.       

Oscar Smiled

''The only thing worse than having a big fat arse is having no arse at all''

I'm sure my discerning and cultured readers are familiar with the works of the Irish raconteur and self-acclaimed genius Oscar Wilde. He lived a charmed life for the most part and was greatly admired for his ready wit and repartee. However, things didn't go well for poor Oscar after he buggered the son of the Marquis of Queensbury. In those days (1890s), the practice of putting yer winky up another man's arse (arse) was not only a sin but a grave crime. Though Oscar put up a spirited defence at his trial (x2), he was ultimately found guilty and sentenced to 2 years of hard labour (1895-1897) to be spent at Reading Gaol. During his incarceration, he wrote the 'Ballad of Reading Gaol'.  Apparently, the work was inspired by the fate of a fellow inmate who was charged with the murder of his faithless wife. The chap in question was a member of the Queen's Guard, and was duly hanged for his crime. In this spirit, I have penned a poem dedicated to an old acquaintance of mine, entitled 'The Ballard of Lugless Douglas'. As I recall, Dougy (for it is he) was not over-endowed with intelligence. As Douglas was virtually unemployable, he was forced to rely on his wits to travel through this veil of tears we call life. This, of course, was a calamity of the first order as poor Doug could not read or write. Interestingly, and like many dullards, he considered himself a self-proclaimed expert on all and sundry. His lack of cerebral matter had a serious and doleful influence on his life, and he was oft the target of the local constabulary and the law courts. However, his downfall occurred not because of a brush with the law but as a consequence of not paying an instalment from a loan from the local unlicensed 'Money Lender', 'Razor Eric'. For most of us, the name 'Razor' would be a clue that perhaps it would be best not to enter a business relationship with this gentleman.  Sadly, Dougy, at this stage in his life, was denied the conventional means of legal credit, and usuary was not a word that abided in his limited lexicon. Read on, gentle reader, to hear of Douglas' sanguinary fate.    

Although my version may lack Oscar Wilde's artistic brilliance, its virtue lies in its brevity.

   The Ballard of Lugless Douglas.

                    He wore his scarlet shell suit,             

      Stained with beer and food,

              And nicotine stained his hands

              When they found him on the road,

              The poor man had lost an ear,

              And the bloody stump did exude.

              He tottered amongst the drunken men,

              An earhole was rent and tore;  

              A knotted hanky was on his head,

              An orifice spewing gore;

              But I never saw a man

              Spewing forth such bright red ichor.

             I never saw a man who bled

             With such wistful aplomb

             Upon the street that night

             And nowhere a soothing balm,

             Yet, at every pump of blood, that vent

             A bloody mess did he become.

             He walked, with staggered step,

             Within a world of pain,

              And wondered where his ear had gone

                    It had disappeared down the drain,

             When a low voice whispered so,

            ‘Dougie will never hear again.’

                                                

             

             Dear me, the poor man

             Suddenly began to reel,

            And Dougie’s ear had been struck orf

            With the finest burnished steel;

                          And through the red mist,                

            The stump appeared like fresh-cut veal.

            Don’t feel sorry for Dougie       

            For Dougie has been a sinner

            Penance did not abide in him

           And thus his ear became a rat’s dinner,

           A fate he truly deserved,

           The fate of a severed pinna.

So endeth the Ballard of Lugless Douglas