Thursday, October 15, 2009

World Socialists a twitter

Being the slow reader that I am, I've only just spotted* this most excellent competition in the September issue of your soaraway Socialist Standard:

Competition for the Twittering Classes

The latest fad for micro-blogging is coming under fire, with a study showing that 40 percent of ‘tweets’ are ‘pointless babble’ and only 8.7 percent pass along ‘news of interest’(BBC Online, 17 August). Considering the gargantua of garbage which is the printed book output, this is not a bad batting average. However, keen as ever to raise the bar of public discourse, Pathfinders proposes a competition for the best expression of the Party Case in 140 characters or less. Brief reflection offers: ‘World for the Workers, not the Rich W**kers’ however you are sure to do better than that. Emails or letters to our Clapham office. Closing date 10 November, for our December issue, and best ideas will be printed. First Prize will be, of course, comradely adulation, as we socialists are trying to move away from material remuneration systems.

Why not? I'm sure I read somewhere that someone has been putting The Communist Manifesto on twitter (bugger if I can find it, though). And, no doubt, someone from Aufheben will eventually get around to serialising The Grundrisse on twitter . . . but we may get socialism before that particular exercise in twitter publishing is actually completed.

My contributions to the comp are the following:

  • world socialism - for a world without war, want, wages and the fat controller.
  • Banish the gods from the sky, the capitalists from the earth and the chuggers from the high street.
  • I thought I'd play it safe with a careful tweaking of the classics.

    I can already feel the "comradely adulation" coming my way, and I don't like it. It seems so unnatural: comradeship and the SPGB, I mean.

    *'just spotted' roughly translates as 'this post has been in draft for three weeks'.

    The Snapper by Roddy Doyle (Penguin Books 1990)



    Sharon sat down again. She whispered to Jimmy Sr.
    - Me uterus is beginnin' to press into me bladder/ It's gettin' bigger.
    Jimmy Sr turned to her.
    - I don't want to hear those sort o' things, Sharon, he said. - It's not righ'.
    He was blushing.
    - Sorry, said Sharon.
    - That's okay. Who's tha' fuckin' eejit, Darren?
    - Can you not just say Eejit? said Veronica.
    - That's wha' I did say! said Jimmy Sr.
    Darren laughed.
    Veronica gave up.
    -Da, said Darren.
    - No, yeh can't have a bike.
    Darren got up and left the room in protest. That left Jimmy Sr and Veronica by themselves.
    - There's Cliff Richard, said Jimmy Sr.
    Veronica looked up.
    - Yes.
    - I'd never wear leather trousers, said Jimmy Sr.
    Veronica laughed.
    Jimmy Sr found the remote control. He'd been sitting on it.
    - He's a Moonie or somethin', isn't he? he said as he stuck on the Sports Channel. - And an arse bandit.
    - He's a Christian, said Veronica.
    - We're all tha', Veronica, said Jimmy Sr. - Baseball! It's worse than fuckin' cricket.
    He looked at it.
    He looked at it.
    - They're dressed up like tha' an' chewin' gum an' paint on their faces, so you're expectin' somethin' excitin', an' wha' do yeh get? Fuckin' cricket with American accents.
    Jimmy Jr stuck his head round the door.
    - Finished with the paper yet?
    - No.
    You're not even lookin' at it.
    - It's my paper. I own it. Fuck off.
    Jimmy Sr switched again; an ad for a gut-buster on Sky.
    - Jesus!
    - You've got the foulest mouth of anyone I ever knew, Veronica told hi. - Ever.
    - Ah lay off, Veronica.

    Wednesday, October 14, 2009

    Runaway (1984)

    Spacers and an intellectual skinhead

    Weekly Bulletin of The Socialist Party of Great Britain 120

    Dear Friends,

    Welcome to the 120th of our weekly bulletins to keep you informed of changes at Socialist Party of Great Britain @ MySpace.

    We now have 1528 friends!

    Recent blogs:

  • Billion Dollar Bribery
  • Prisons: In Capitalism's Stockade
  • Karl Marx and the Classics
  • Coming Events:


    Autumn Delegate Meeting

    Saturday 17 October 10.30am to 5.30pm

    Sunday 18 October 11.00am to 5.00pm

    Socialist Party Head Office, 52 Clapham High St, London SW4.


    The Zeitgeist Movement

    Wednesday 21 October, 8.30pm

    Community Central Halls, 304 Maryhill Road, Glasgow.


    Radical Film Forum, Sundays 6pm - 52 Clapham High Street, London SW4 7UN.

    1st November - The Fog of War

    15th November - Matewan

    29th November - Sicko

    13th December - Earthlings

    Quote for the week:

    “I'm completely in favor of the separation of Church and State. My idea is that these two institutions screw us up enough on their own, so both of them together is certain death.” George Carlin

    Continuing luck with your MySpace adventures!

    Robert and Piers

    Socialist Party of Great Britain

    Tuesday, October 13, 2009

    The Commitments by Roddy Doyle (Penguin Books 1987)



    - We'll ask Jimmy, said Outspan. - Jimmy'll know.

    Jimmy Rabbitte knew his music. He knew his stuff alright. You'd never see Jimmy coming home from town without a new album or a 12-inch or at least a 7-inch single. Jimmy ate Melody Maker and the NME every week and Hot Press every two weeks. He listened to Dave Fanning and John Peel. He even read his sisters' Jackie when there was no one looking. So Jimmy knew his stuff.

    The last time Outspan had flicked through Jimmy's records he'd seen names like Microdisney, Eddie and the Hot Rods, Otis Redding, The Screaming Blue Messiahs, Scraping Foetus off the Wheel (- Foetus, said Outspan. - That's the little young fella inside the woman, isn't it?

    - Yeah, said Jimmy.

    - Aah, that's fuckin; horrible, tha' is.); groups Outspan had never heard of, never mind heard. Jimmy even had albums by Frank Sinatra and The Monkees.

    So when Outspan and Derek decided, while Ray was out in the jacks, that their group needed a new direction they both thought of Jimmy. Jimmy knew what was what. Jimmy knew what was new, what was new but wouldn't be for long and what was going to be new. Jimmy had Relax before anyone had heard of Frankie Goes to Hollywood and he'd started slagging them months before anyone realized that they were no good. Jimmy knew his music.

    Monday, October 12, 2009

    The Hanging Garden by Ian Rankin (St Martin's Press 1998)


    Rebus knew his own criteria came cheaply: his flat, books, music and clapped-out car. And he realised that he had reduced his life to a mere shell in recognition that he had completely failed at the important things: love, relationships, family life. He'd been accused of being in thrall to his career, but that had never been the case. His work sustained him only because it was an easy option. He dealt every day with strangers, with people who didn't mean anything to him in the wider scheme. He could enter their lives, and leave again just as easily. He got to live other people's lives, or at least portions of them, experiencing things at one remove, which wasn't nearly as challenging as the real thing.

    Sunday, October 11, 2009

    Marvelouse

    The Invisible Man trusses up Maradona like a stuck pig.

    Forty million Argentinians couldn't give a toss sign an online petition urging the Invisible Man not to untie Maradona until the end of the World Cup qualifying matches.

    More wonderful World Cup pics here.