Climate hypocrisy

Tue, 20 Jul 2010 09:17:03 +1000

One of the planks in the (mostly) Conservative arguments against human-induced climate change is that we, scientists and all interested, focus our attention on short-term weather nuances and are therefore too short-sighted to really know what’s going on with the global climate. If that were the case, it would be a fair point because all of this climate change debate depends on long term patterns - short term, it’s just bad weather.

As the planet warms, mostly by our hands, the weather patterns we’re used to where we live and why we live there are going to become more erratic. That statement has been one of the main planks of climate change scientists since the beginning of this debate over thirty years ago, not that everywhere on the planet the weather will become persistently warmer on a daily basis, just more uncharacteristic.

With those two points in hand, I was annoyed this past winter (northern hemisphere winter that is) that much of the Conservative press went over-board when higher than normal snowfalls hit much of the eastern parts of North America. Their claim was just too obvious: “see, climate change is fake, just look at all of the snow (this winter)”.

I’m not going to get into a detailed discussion at how churlish and unsophisticated that line of thinking is, there are people far more adept than myself for doing that. What I did want to address is that, as of today, it appears that the (northern hemisphere) summer is going to be one of, if not the, hottest summers in recorded history.

What I’m waiting for is to read and hear how the Conservative press will respond this time. I suspect it will put them in a little spin.

On a related matter, that farcical response of the Conservative press to the snowy winter went unchallenged by (their allied) climate change skeptics. Where were they to discredit the press with its short-sighted and unscientific response to a snowy winter, in winter? It was as silent as the snow falling.

When the Conservative press gets their science wrong, climate change skeptics remain quiet, and that’s evidence for an (equally) ideological point-of-view from which they claim to be immune.

And that’s the best part of the hypocrisy.

Choosing my words carefully

Wed, 7 Jul 2010 21:07:42 +1000

Not long ago I spent a few days in Cairns for a short personal holiday. I’ve been up there a few times now, mostly for work - I teach there for a few Mondays usually in late September or early October, and have been up a few other times of the year for other work; but this time I went for me, simply.

Among a number of activities I spent a day in Kuranda, taking the Skyrail up and back down. The Skyrail was a nice trip through, and over, the forest canopy stopping a couple of places on the way to dig a little deeper.

At the top was the little village of Kuranda nestled in the Tablelands. I can only guess that the village started out as a pleasant get-away for the people in and around Cairns as a short respite from the humidity of the coast, it must have had quaint shops, artisans, boutiques stores, etc... Unfortunately, there is very little of that left. There is some, so it is worth finding them, but by and large it is over run with tourism kitsch - it’s worth a day visit, but I couldn’t handle more of that and I feel for those who work and live there pining for the “better” days of the past glory that surely was.

Nevertheless, there is one particularly unpleasant story worth relating. I was in need of a coffee, and had recently started having a “long black” with just a little milk. I really don’t like all of the milk in specialty coffees so it was suggested I have that - a good suggestion I might add. Up until then this moment my regular coffee place at JCU was more than happy to serve a long black with a little bit of milk to me; however, that was not the case at the Kuranda Coffee Republic - my first port-of-call in Kuranda.

When I asked for that coffee, the server and I believe owner, simply walked away from me with nothing but disdain for my request. “Nope, I don’t do that,” he said. And I do mean walked away, not just turned to do something else, but clean walked away from me leaving a stunned customer standing there with no service.

Being the ONLY person in his shop, he could have asked my “why do you like your coffee that way?” “Might I suggest you try...” or “...if you like that you might prefer this...” As a teacher, I see times like these as teachable moments. That was an opportunity for him to politely convince me I might be mistaken with my choice, and had he done that I might be raving about his service instead of crapping on him. But nope, he just walked away as if I had asked him to kiss my ass and wipe it clean with his shirt.

Clearly he is what many, though not I, would call a food fascist, a coffee nazi or some other derogatory description. In addition to the long black, he not would not make de-caf or skinny coffee, among others but I didn’t bother continuing to read his “we don’t make” list after discovering it while standing in awe of how he treated a customer.

Which brings me to penises.

You might remember a while back I wrote about a word episode while in Tasmania, and that episode involved some people’s inability to say words like penis or vagina, which are proper anatomical words like elbow or scalp. I won’t repeat the blog, but I wanted to tell you that since writing that piece the number of people who have “found” my blog through search engines has increased, though not exactly how, or who, I had wanted.

Using my server’s webstats, I can see that there is a distinctly pornographic tinge to what some people are searching for only to find my site, ouch. Apparently, even those interested in porn still use the proper anatomical terms on occasion. A few other “searchers” are obviously interested in some type of etymological research, but they’re on the low side of the statistics. So although many people feel giddy saying penis in public, purveyors of porn must still be using it in conjunction words like prick, or worse.

And of course, using these words once again in this blog will simply garner more negative attraction from seedy people interested in porn.

Which all brings me back to the coffee guy because descriptions such as food fascist or coffee nazi are overly harsh for his kind of cafe puritanism...

...prick gets more attention.

The Peasant's Life: Food and Drink

Wed, 2 Jun 2010 22:10:29 +1000

On most days I begin to think of what to eat over the course of that day almost from the time I get up, or at latest once I’ve start my morning coffee. Meals, or better yet, planning and making meals consumes my thoughts like low level background noise - a chronic buzzing if you will. To me, that semi-conscious mental effort is a typical sign of the peasant’s way of life; not one based on a need to be victorious over my meals, but to merge the meal into the story of my day more like a chapter’s end than a climax.

It’s not about how to out do myself this evening with a stupendous display of culinary skill. Quite the contrary in fact, I am at my best when thinking of how to make do with the foods I already have in the house, or how little I’d need to buy to get it all done; a peasant might need to borrow from a neighbour, or visit the cellar, but fully-stocked stores were hard to come by. My home is not overly stocked with every ingredient and vegetable, it’s quite spartan actually. I enjoy Nigella Lawson’s cooking shows, but in no way is my home stocked like hers, nor will it ever be.

By and large, I have failed at most of the extravagant meals I’ve tried to cook. Not disastrously, I’ve never killed or poisoned anyone (to my knowledge). Those meals all seemed to be way too much effort for the little extra enjoyment that came out of them; much more of a bother than a treat. Simple(r) is my strength, best illustrated by the fact that since we’ve moved to Townsville most summer evening meals are nothing more than barbecued meat along with a salad, and a beer. No preparation necessary, just take stock of what we have then buy some meat (I don’t freeze meat, or chicken, or whatever), so in that case I will buy daily.

My choice of television cooks also shows my peasantry. As mentioned Nigella Lawson is one of them. Her simplicity and seduction of food and eating take my breathe away - although she is a little strong on the gadget side of things, but hey we all indulge, and indulge she does in sweets with gusto and no request for forgiveness - thank you for that! More thumbs up for The Two Fat Ladies, and The Two Hairy Bikers. Each of them has that raw, almost primitive, nature to their cooking styles. And last but not least is, wait for it... The Urban Peasant, James Barber. I think watching his shows many years ago turned my slight interest in cooking out of necessity, into something I could really enjoy. “Make do with what you got” is something he said often, and so was born my delight in cooking meals.

What about having people over, or going to dinner at their place? I have a simple rule which I feel is particularly indicative of the peasant way of life: when at someone else’s home, you eat what they eat and drink what they drink, and do so the way it is served (and yes I expect no less of this behaviour of myself and family). I refuse to cook separate meals for kids. There’s one meal made and that’s for everyone. We insist our son show that same decency when he eats at a friend’s place or with us; if there’s a particular item of the meal that does not suit his tastes, then we ask that he finish what is served and not ask for seconds, simple really.

I despise the need, or worse the expectation, to make available at my dinner table everyone’s favourite drink, or vegetables cooked a special way, or to have the meats made to satisfy all concerned - in short, I’m not a restaurant so don’t place your orders with me. Bringing a bottle of wine is wonderful , but not if you expect it to be drunk automatically as a part of the meal. It may, then again it may not - don’t worry, we’ll have plenty on hand.

In return for this, I also expect no help on your part when visiting my home. You won’t be asked to help set the table (simple as it may be), cut the turkey, or worse, help with the dishes. Sit back, relax enjoy, and enjoy a drink if it pleases you, while you watch me cook the meal. And watch you will, because only on rare occasions will I prepare something ahead of time like a large lamb, chicken or roast; otherwise, I don’t start the meal until the guests arrive - as mentioned, I’m not a restaurant, this is my home and if you’re in it at my request, then I’m prepared to serve you as a special guest.

As for drinking, that too is pretty simple. I call it the European diet: I only drink water, coffee, wine or beer...because after that you’re a peein’.

I’m not really a favourites kind of person when it comes to drink. I have my standby brands, but that’s really all they are, standbys for when I can’t make up my mind about what to try today, so try me. Slowly, the taste of brandy is beginning to grow on me, but time will tell whether it sticks. And port is a nice change from time to time.

My son asked me that “...if I was forced to choose between only wine or beer which would it be?” Beer, which was a surprise to my wife. You see I can’t drink wine (red as it is) when the weather is warm; however, I can drink cold beer anytime and do, so when in doubt... beer it is.

So you see, simplicity and humility form the nature of my meal planning, and that to me is the peasant’s way, a way I cherish to be honest. I am easy to please as long as you’re not trying to impress me, and that same sentiment holds true for having people over for dinner. I cook to feed you, not impress you. That’s the peasant way.

Oh, and my favourite meal? A ploughman’s lunch: pickled and/or fresh vegetables, some cheese, and a few cold cuts all married with bread, and topped off with a nice bottle of wine or a beer. The only thing that can make it better is the company I’m sharing it with, and the location...

...somewhere on a hillside under a shady tree over looking a valley. Then I’m happy.

John Daicopoulos

The Peasant's Life: Introduction

Sun, 30 May 2010 17:19:26 +1000

It’s hard to consolidate one’s personal philosophy of life into short quips or snappy quotes, just look at my home page to see two attempts. They are accurate quotes about my take on life, it’s just that they’re not entirely complete descriptions of me, nor could they be.

True statements about a personal philosophy would require pages to be thorough. So I thought I’d elaborate on a few of my details over the next few blogs or so, a series of essays if you will permit me.

It’s likely the topics will cover such things as food and drink (the first one), family, personal goals and whatever else comes to mind until I think I’ve exhausted myself of thought. If you have any particular items you’d like me to cover just let me know, you know how to contact me.

John Daicopoulos

April Fool's and Comet Tails

Sat, 3 Apr 2010 22:24:29 +1000

Not surprisingly after April Fool’s Day last week a number of news media reported on the various foolery that had been inflicted upon us over the course of the day from all around the world. It is truly amazing what the media can come up with every year to top their previous year’s fiction, kudos to them.

I am not an April Fool’s kind of guy, it’s not my thing. Oh I have tried from time to time. I recall joining some of my fellow students by re-arranging the desks in our class while the teacher (Ms Curtis) was out in the hall for the national anthem. Upon returning to the class she had a conniption along with a mental break down. We had pushed her over the edge and felt rotten. Another teacher (Mr Katz, I believe) came in to chastise us for what had happened by telling us that we had no idea of the stress we had been putting her under.

Feeling like crap, we started to put the desks back where they belonged, at which point both of them returned into the class to proclaim: “April Fool’s!” We were had and in a big way. Such was the extent of my April Foolery, until 1997.

For about a year before April 1997 I had been writing a short newspaper article concerning astronomy and star-gazing. It was submitted to numerous newspapers around Ontario each publishing elements of it on a regular basis. In addition, I had been “in” The Guelph Mercury and The Guelph Tribune (our local papers) a few times by now for a number of astronomical issues. Needless to say, I had established a bit of an astronomical credential in and around Guelph.

On 1 April 1997 Comet Hale-Bopp was to be at perihelion. It was following from another great cometary apparition the year before, Comet Hyakutake. This pairing a year apart made for timely press, in the star-gazing realm at least. I was again in the papers spruiking the wonderful opportunity for observing.

I received a call from a local radio station, I believe it was CJOY, but could be wrong on this matter. They wanted to do a radio interview with me to coincide with Comet Hale-Bopp’s close approach (to the sun). We would talk about what to look for in the sky, when best to look, what an observer could see... all the usual stuff; however, in addition, they asked me to do a part II interview which would be entirely bullshit. They wanted me to lie through my teeth about what effects “passing through the comet tail” would do to earth, our electronics, etc... I happily obliged.

So on 1 April my interview aired in two parts, the first being the truth, the second bullshit. I told people they should unplug their microwave ovens and VCR so the electromagnetic effects of the comet tail would not harm the electronics. It was light-hearted and I was sure everyone listening would gather that the second part, airing on April Fool’s Day, was a joke.

When I arrived at school that morning the first teacher to greet me told me she was glad to hear me on the radio and that she unplugged her VCR like I recommended. Obviously I told her to think about what day it was. She was none too happy with me, or herself, but I think I took the brunt of it. She had to be the only one, right?

About 5 years later, I was teaching a stargazing course at the Arboretum of the University of Guelph. I happened to mention both comets in the course of the lectures, at which point one of the participants mentioned that she was bamboozled by someone on the radio a few years back about the comet. I had to come clean and tell her it was me. Five years later, at least she laughed off the whole affair.

John Daicopoulos