Sheeple

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And they have "naughty lists".

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The future sounds like schizophrenia.

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Game Theory

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Apocalypse

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RMT Strikes

My understanding of the strikes are that two people got suspended. The reason one of them got suspended was for opening the doors of the carriage on the wrong side and then not carrying out the appropriate safety checks to make sure no one had fallen/got injured - oh, and then denying it. Yes okey mistakes do happen but in all fairness you should try and rectify it by carrying out the safety checks.

So while I was stuck on a platform in central London with a load of commuters, it occurred to me that it would surely be far easier to drive the stupid trains then organise a strike (which was relatively ineffective given that about half the trains were running). Normally I don't like to claim for a refund when I am delayed as I feel it's not really anyone's fault (most of the time) - and I guess the more money you take from London Underground the more time it's going to take to upgrade their networks and what not. But Thursday wasn't one of those days, and I can point my finger of blame to the moron who thankfully is no longer driving our trains. "Moron" may be a bit strong but had someone died as a result of the mistake, any thoughts of a strike taking place would soon have been dispelled. Why do we look upon the situation differently due to nothing but sheer luck.

Period

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The State of "Palestine" Quiz

Israeli propaganda at work: ...

Voynich Manuscript

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The (religious) cake is a lie.

That's right people... heaven's not real.

"Grumpy Old Women" - BBC2

I'm not entirely sure whether or not this was meant to be a comedy but I found it outrageously hilarious. The programme revolves around a group of "grumpy old women" who are complaining about the world they live in (or something like that?).

It begins by talking about meetings and how men love them but women don't - the "reason" being men don't have any work to do and use meetings as a filler in their day. Anyone who knows anything about meetings will appreciate the fact that project managers use meetings as a way of making sure people are doing whatever it is that they are meant to be doing but also as a means of focusing, brainstorming and providing motivation. To be fair to the grumpy old hag, it was probably her time of month so we'll let her of for talking nonsense.

A few of my favourite catchphrases from the program (I couldn't possibly include them all!) are:

1. "Sometimes it's at 1830, sometimes at 1730 and sometimes at 1500 - it's completely arbitrary" - with regards to parking restrictions. Someone needs to point out the big luminous signs with instructions on to the old hag.
2. "It's senseless - holes in the road that are dug up and then filled in again over and over again" - with regards to roads. The old hag clearly hasn't heard of road maintanance.
3. "What makes me really angry is when my family doesn't plump up the cushions at the end of the day" - with regards to what really hacks them off. This old hag just made me laugh :)

All in all, the comedy furthered my view that feminism is a shambles and that woman are on the whole laregly obtuse.

Troll Slayer

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Bordem in Heaven?

Read this today and thought I would share: "There are many people who long for immortality in heaven, who can't think what to do on a rainy sunday afternoon".

Benevolent God?

The overwhelmingly large majority of people I know would never torture another human being under any conditions. Yet I know of many people who believe in a God who not only tortures, but tortures for all eternity. In my opinion, this constitutes nothing less than bitter vengeance.

Hateful Prayers

Those of you who know me will know that on the whole, I don't do things I don't understand. We get al-Manar at home and everyday at about 2300 it plays a beautiful rendition of Dua Ahl Thagur ("supplication for the people of the frontiers"). I thought I would take the time and effort to understand what the Arabic meant and this is what I found:
O God ...
- separate them from their weapons
- turn them astray from their direction
- cut off reinforcements from them
- chop them down in numbers
- fill their hearts with terror

Okey so that's just a normal war chant I guess. Whilst being evil in nature, I can understand why it might be said. Iff that was all it said, I wouldn't have (that much of) a problem. But it gets much more brutal in the next paragraph:
O God; make the wombs of their women barren; dry up the loins of their men; cut off the breeding of their mounts and their cattle; and permit not their sky to rain
or their earth to grow!

This hostility towards the enemy continues throughout most of the supplication and having read the English translation, I'm left wishing I didn't as I will now never be able to listen to it in the same innocent manner.

I wanted to see if this was unique to Islam and it wasn't long before I found that it was not.
Psalm 109:
[9] Let his children be fatherless, and his wife a widow.
[10] Let his children be continually vagabonds, and beg: let them seek their bread also out of their desolate places.
[11] Let the extortioner catch all that he hath; and let the strangers spoil his labour.
[12] Let there be none to extend mercy unto him: neither let there be any to favour his fatherless children.
[13] Let his posterity be cut off; and in the generation following let their name be blotted out.
[14] Let the iniquity of his fathers be remembered with the Lord; and let not the sin of his mother be blotted out.
[15] Let them be before the Lord continually, that he may cut off the memory of them from the earth.

Now I admit I haven't read about the context of the extract from Psalms - but I don't think any context would grant sufficient warrant to wish that upon a person.

Not the most friendly side of religion...

Crime Scene

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Did you hear?

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Benefit fraud. We're closing in...

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Packages

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WILT

What I Learnt Today was that the "Bardo Thodol", known to most westerns simply as the "Tibetan Book of the Dead", is the most famous piece of Tibetan literature published to date. Much like the Egyptian Book of the Dead, its purpose is to act as a guide to the deceased. In it, it describes how to maneuver succesfully through the afterlife.

Swine Flu

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Londinium: a global microcosm

It's taken me the best part of 19 years but I think I've finally cracked it! It occurred to me today that London is in a way a microcosm of the Mercator projection map and also of global socioeconomic status.

North West London is known to be an affluent and fairly exclusive leafy area including such towns as St. John's Wood, Hampstead Heath, Harrow, Moor Park and of course mini-hollywood: GX. Additionally, it has a fine collection of extremely reputable preparatory and grammar schools (Harrow School, Merchant Taylors, NLCS, Northwood College, DCGS) - all of which appear towards the higher end of the country's league tables. For this reason, NW London represents Europe and North America in the world of today.

Islington would represent Turkey/Israel as it is an upcoming area that could become highly visible in the near future. Turkey could possibly be entering the EU and with a large, increasing, working-age population - it will quite possibly also get a signing on bonus. Israel, already a world leader in various technologies (and with all the know-how of occupying foreign lands), is already three quarters of the way there. On the other hand, if one were to venture further north west into Hackney and God forsaken forbid Walthamstow, the smell of vodka wouldn't be the only thing that was reminiscent of Russia. I shall say no more about the evident parallels that may be drawn between Walthamstow and Russia just in case regions of E17 have now got access to the internet.

Central London is the Middle East. Rich in natural reserves of investment banks and other such financial institutions which the world depend on, and teeming with its fair share of high-rise glass buildings - London is like an oil rich Dubai (before it went bankrupt and with less fat arabs) which doesn't exploit the Nepalese.

As for East London, it's pretty much identical to the sub-continent in every possible way. Overflowing with asians living in squalid slums, run down and with the odd cow on the road - it's no wonder why they call it "little India". I guess everything's little in comparison to India though?

The River Thames roughly represents the boundary of the North-South divide. South London, much like Africa, is for the most part fairly deprived, illiterate and black. Richmond, the only exception to stereotypical South London, could be the Australia of the Southern Hemisphere (without the crazy cannibalistic Aborigines).

And thus concludes my 19 year long work!

Omnipotence

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Can't sleep

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New car

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Urgent mission

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WILT

Apparantly you learn something new everyday. What I Learnt Today was the personification for the United Kingdom: John Bull - and what's more Mr. Bull is far older than Uncle Sam. Other terms for the UK include: Albion (the oldest name for the island), Brittania and the well known Great Britian and The British Isles. One does wonder why a single country (or four) requires such an array of names.

Cleaning up after yourself...

Now I'm no medical expert, and it'll probably surprise you to know I don't even have a GCSE in P.E. however, I do know that washing yourself is basic hygiene. If you were to use your hand to sift through excrement, it would be far from unnatural to then wash it thoroughly. Simply wiping off the muck with a tissue/towel of some sort does not seem to be enough.

Why then is it any different when on the potty? Washing yourself is not an Islamic concept - merely a hygienic one.

What I am proposing is for washing facilities to be available in every toilet in the UK - from the hospitals and airports to churches and homes.

Mind/Matter

What is mind? No matter. What is matter? Never mind.

Gen Debt

Forget Generation X and Gerenation Y: we and our future children are now being labelled "generation debt" due to the reckless spending and prior mis-management of the UK government. I was rather amused to watch the "debt counter" on Sky News (started on 06/04/09 at 0700) rising at a rate of £4,800 per second which brought back memories of the National Debt Clock in Times Square running out of place holders. I'm sure, assuming I do one day land myself a job, I won't find it as entertaining in years to come.

I also think it somewhat hilarious that the government wants schools to teach their pupils about money and debt. The words "pot", "kettle" and "black" all spring to mind...

But what prompted me to write this post was this: Muslim population 'rising 10 times faster than rest of society'. It looks like if the UK economy does make it through this r******** alive, it will be the Moslems who will be paying for its stupidity...

Stupid contradictory sayings.

Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for the rest of his life. Quite so. How about this: Give a man a fire and you keep him warm for a day. Set a man on fire and you keep him warm for the rest of his life.

And how is it possible to reconcile "actions speaking louder than words" with "the pen being mightier than the sword"?

Let's not forget it's the "first bird that gets the worm" but the "second mouse that gets the cheese". While this is all very well, one wonders how helpful the sayings are if you are neither bird nor mouse.

A Bad Compromise

So the other week we went sofa shopping. Eventually after much discussion and/or argument we settled on this: (Swivel Range, from DFS)
Unfortunately the woman in pink cost too much so we left her out. There were a number of reasons why we initially did not all agree that this would be the best buy but I'll spare you the intimate details of that. Once we had settled on this sofa, we had to choose the colour. Now personally, I think that dark colours (dark brown and black) radiate an air of formality, whereas light colours would not only lighten up the room but go well with the light brown carpet and medium/dark brown blinds. Another thing to bear in mind when dealing with leather is that, akin to jeans, it does in fact fade after a while (due to general wear&tear and the sun) and so the lighter the fabric, the less the fadedness will show.

Enough wiffle-waffle. My brother said something like "no point in having a bad compromise" (regarding the choice of colour). This got me thinking, aren't most compromises "fruitless"? As evidence allow to me present the story of King Solomon in the courtroom (1 Kings 3:16-28). As I'm sure most of you are aware, when presented with the two women both of whom claimed ownership over a baby, King Solomon threatened to split the baby in half. One woman objected, wanting more than anything for the child to survive, whilst the other was too busying thinking about shoes (or so the story goes...) to notice what was going on. King Solomon then knew who the true mother was. However, were he to go ahead with the compromised solution, neither would have really got what they wanted (given that they both wanted a live baby).

If there are two homeless people who each need £5 to purchase a meal to survive and you only have £5 to give; then giving each of them £2.50 each isn't helping anyone and will starve them both. Equality aside, had you given the full £5 to either one of the homeless people, they could have gone out and bought a meal which would have seen them through to the next day.

The art of compromise isn't about achieving "the best of both worlds" - rather, it the the art of cheating people out of what they want/need while all the while portraying yourself to be their saviour.

Sex, Drugs, Rock 'n' Roll

Three things which "my" religion prohibits. Personally, I do not believe that my religion does prohibit these things but such is the twaddle uttered by people with turbans and big beards. Before I proceed any further I should clarify:
1. Sex outside marriage: not allowed under any circumstance (pre-marital sex: punishable by 100 lashes | adultery: punishable by stoning to death)
2. Drugs (the "intoxicating" sort - which I guess is just about all of them?): again, not allowed..
3. Rock 'n' Roll (or anything that vaguely resembles music): you guessed it - not allowed.
But the purpose of this post isn't to insult islamic jurisprudence - for that there will be plenty more posts. My real question is concerning the morality of the three aforementioned "sins".

A "religious" man would put sex at the top of the forbidden tree, then drugs about half way down and music near the foot of the trunk. A "rational" man would put drugs at the top of the tree and probably not even hear you mention sex and music. Drugs have irreversible side effects, sex (the protected kind) doesn't, and as for music... I can't even begin to take that suggestion seriously.

What does it even mean to lose your virginity? For a guy... not much (not that I would know..). For a woman, there is the possibility that her hymen may break (if it has not already broken naturally). Okey, big deal? Compare this on the one hand with sepsis, lung cancer, and the probable life-long addiction to drugs (with the possibility of a life of crime to fund the addiction). Not to mention the drug-specific side effects such as hallucinations etc.

Yes, the religious man does speak of such things as "sanctity of marriage" but let us not forget the christian religious man may well be a gay/paedophile clergy member. As for the moslem religious man, what is sanctity of marriage when all love making is to be done on your terms and your terms only. Oh, and let's not forget that you are entitled to as many concubines as you can afford^*. Celebrites these days are swapping spouses faster than ever before. The sanctity of marriage, if ever there was any, has been extinct for many years now.

Why then, despite knowledge of the above information, would the religious man rate sex outside of marriage a deadlier sin than drugs?


^*It should be noted that concubinage is not unique to Islam; the Bible records that King Solomon and King David both had concubines, and it is recorded in other cultures too.

The Loo: anhabitable abode?

I've never kept a dustbin in my room. I always thought the concept of living and sleeping in the same room as a pile of rubbish was rather bizarre. It's the animal equivalent of sleeping next to a pile of your own excrement (sorry to put it so crudely).

In the summer of '07 we renovated the house - an event that hadn't taken place in our house until that year. Aside from changing the carpets & wallpaper and planting spotlights in every conceivable place, two major developments took place. One was to combine the kitchen and dining room into one large kitchen/dining room and the other, was to bring the garage indoors and divide it into two. The back half would serves as a utility room for the kitchen and the front was to be transformed into a cloakroom.

What is great about the now new cloakroom is that not only is it large and spacious, but the sun's rays flood through it's huge windows from morning till dusk. This is why I have chosen it as my new revision spot. I figured the change of scenery and sunlight (not to mention the unparalleled crisp radio signal obtainable from that room) might do me some good. And I think it has.

"Why are you telling me this?", I hear you cry. Well I reckon up to now you're thinking things like, "that's wonderful", "good for me", oh and of course, "why are you telling me this?!". Well the cloakroom contains a loo in one corner of it, next to which is positioned a washbasin. Some may even argue the room was a purpose built toilet!... I don't get what is so "unimaginable" about working there. (At this point I should point out that I don't use the loo that's there!). The way I see it, if you are prepared to live along side smelly socks, snot filled tissues, dead insects and other such material... what's wrong with working in close proximity to a large bowl full of clean water. Stop being such loo-haters!!

1st Things 1st

No more junk food. A healthy body equals a healthy mind.

My new breakfast plan (hopefully until next September⁺ but for now let's make it less daunting by saying until end May) is a choice between:
1. An omlet (unlike the 4 egg ones I'm used to, I think 2 eggs will be max.)
2. Porridge (I hear it's good for you. Can you have too much of a good thing? Well I sure hope not...)
3. Weetabix with museli (again, nice healthy stuffs)

And for lunch I plan to have a selection of fresh fruit daily, kindly cut for me by my dear mother. They will include:
2x banannas
1x apple
1x pear
(a few)x grapes/strawberries

For dinner, I will be eating at home everyday. No more going out, no more fast food and above all - no more samosas!

As for fluid intake, I will be cutting out all forms of juice/other and will be sticking to mineral water and goats milk.

this ought to be a laugh... :-)

Reformation.

My life isn't really going in the direction I would like it to. I've known this for quite some time now, made a few attempts to change the course of it but then gave up at the first sign of difficulty. I don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore. I used to be a decent guy: morals, principles, hard working etc. I used to be the head boy of my old school, respected in my local community among famliy and friends... looking back it just seems like that's a totally different person. Now when I look in the mirror all I see is failure.

Anyway I've decided enough is enough. I hate what I've become and I've spent far too long feeling sorry for myself. Today is the day I turn my life around. It's going to be hard but I know I've got it in me. I mean totally reform myself: character, addictions, habits - the lot. I've also decided that I'm not even going to try to live up to expectations of me. I think that's what's done me the most damage - the high expectations that people set for me in their mind's eye. From here on out it's just me living my life the way I want.

At times like these in the past I would normally turn to God as a source of comfort but I don't like "using" him anymore. I do believe in God, but I don't believe (or practise anymore) that whenever something goes wrong you should just turn to him, feel sorry for yourself, cry?, feel better knowing that he will take care of everything and that "everything happens for a reason". Yes God created the heavens above me and the earth beneath me - and all that's in between the two. But I did not create God and he is not my shoulder to lean on when times get rough. I hate it when people accuse religious people of that and that's why I don't do it. Voltaire in one of his poems once said, "If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent Him". Einstein made a similar remark but I like to think that in this respect, they were both wrong.

My father once said something that's stuck with me ever since, "if you are determined and focused there can be no barriers".

And so my journey begins...

Current Financial Crisis

Something I heard today: "What worries me most about the credit crunch is that if one of my cheques is returned stamped 'insufficient funds', I won't know whether that refers to mine or the bank's!"

Reality... what's that?!

It's Halloween in the year 1984. Richard and Peter are both dressed in Guy Fawkes costumes and are standing on either side of the street. Richard has an egg in his hand. It appears to be that of an East African ostrich (struthio camelus molybdophanes). Richard hurls the egg towards Peter and naturally, Peter attempts to dodge it. Just before impact however, the world ends and everything spontaneously vapourises.
Richard knew that in fact the egg was merely a very good replica and is actually made of foam. Had Peter known this, he would have not tried to avoid the egg (as his only reason for doing so was to prevent him being covered in egg yolk).

There are two realities that despite being contradictory, co-exist at the same time:
1. Richard's reality where the egg is made of foam
2. Peter's reality where he is about to be covered in yolk (egg not made of foam)
Which is the "real" reality?
Bear in mind that a) the egg vapourises before impact and so you can't adopt a "wait and see" tactic and b) despite rumours, it is impossible to pause time and examine the egg yourself.

This may seem like a trivial example but I believe it has bearing on many other aspects of life - the most obvious of which being history. Again, contrary to poular opinion, it is (without a shadow of dout) impossible to travel backwards in time and witness events for yourself. And even if this were possible, your take on the situation would almost certainly be biased due to a) your beliefs about the situation prior to travelling backwards in time or b) your lack of understanding of the situation (given you weren't born and raised in that time period etc.). What I have (hopefully) outlined above is the importance of a neutral objective reality which is clearly not attainable in disciplines such as history which by definition ("his story") is the view of the world by one man. Everyone's take on events are different (and perhaps even contradictory) and so there is no single unifying history as such.

What I really mean to say is that I don't see the point in learning history anymore as at best, we are are memorising one man's interpretation on events of the past. As for reality, I don't even know where to begin... (if indeed it exists at all!).

... It's times like these that I'm glad I did maths :-)

London Google Street View

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A Tribute to Sagar

Perhaps the only event we can ever be sure of in this world is our eventual demise. Death is indiscriminate and uncompromising. Death, like both the Matrix and God, is all around us. And though people attempt to evade it - it is without doubt ineluctable. It's been a week (today) since he was taken from us...

I first met him when he came to DC - he was in my form and economics set. From the very first time I spoke to him I knew there was something different about him. It wasn't his charming character, or his overwhelming generosity. Nor was it his subtle lisp, or how he managed to include at least one word in each of his sentences that made absolutely no sense. (His favorite being "grimy" or "dizzy"). I think perhaps what it was, is that every time I looked at him, he was either smiling or laughing hysterically. And his laugh wasn't a normal laugh - nothing about him was "normal". He had one of those infectious laughs so that whenever he laughed, there would always be a crowd of people around him laughing too.

At the beginning of year 12, I remember we used to take his bag when he wasn't looking and pass it round the classroom without drawing BL's attention. This lasted approximately two weeks; each lesson he would attempt new ways of protecting his bag and each lesson we would think up new ways of taking it.

Initially I don't think BL was too fond of him, but as time went by I think he warmed to him - as we all did. He was the type of person who it was impossible to dislike once you got to know him. There really was something quite magical about him. Sure enough, he soon became one of us.

He was the type of guy who set goals for himself and then worked hard until he met them. He never thought any goal was beyond him and to him, the glass was always half full. He managed to achieve a phenomenal 4 As at A Levels (which surprised even me!). But he was that kind of guy - always saying or doing the unexpected. Conforming to the norm just wasn't him. He was the embodiment of "carpe diem" though I have my doubts he would know what that meant.

Browsing through his facebook I found a picture of him wearing a t shirt on which was emblazoned the words "2 young to die"...

It does make you think though. I once thought that the most important thing was getting all As at A Level and so on and so forth. But when you look at the bigger picture, all that really matters is for each one of us to be the best person we can be.
Each day we have is a blessing so let's make the most of it - because life is too precious to let it pass us by.

The Grandfather Paradox

The grandfather paradox is a paradox of what may happen if one were able to travel backwards in time. The paradox is as follows:
Suppose Peter travels backwards in time and kills his biological grandfather (before his grandfather has the chance to meet his "present day" grandmother). In doing so, one of Peter's parents would not be conceived - the upshot of which being Peter himself would not have been conceived. However, if Peter was non-existent it would have been impossible to travel for him to travel backwards in time. And if he did not travel backwards in time, it would have been impossible for him to kill his grandfather and so... Peter and his grandfather would both still be alive. Now that Peter is alive... he can travel backwards in time and kill his grandfather (again!)...

The paradox is also known as autoinfanticide in philosophy circles.

Religious Names

Isn't it odd how you can find Christians who are named "Christian" (Hans Christian Andersen), Muslims who are named "Muslim" (Muslim ibn al-Hajjaaj) but never any Jews who are named "Jew". It may possibly have something to do with what each of the three terms mean. As far as I am aware, Christian is some sort of derivation of Christ, Muslim is a fourth form active participle of the arabic verb sa-la-ma meaning "one who submits" and Jew is a derivation from Judea/Judah. Even so, this alone does not explain why you can't find Jews who are named Jew...

Message to a dear freind

A few hours ago the news reached me. Most are saying it was pneumonia but there are rumours of meningitis and organ failure. His facebook message currently reads "... is taking an early easter and going to london now!!". Little did he know it would be for the last time. The news that reached me was of course regarding his sad demise. I'm reminded of the lyrics from the tribute to Eastside's Notorious B.I.G.:

It's kinda hard with you not around
Know you in heaven smilin' down
Watchin' us while we pray for you
Every day we pray for you
Till the day we meet again
In my heart is where I'll keep you friend

For now, I think that is all I have in me. Hopefully in the not to distant future I will tell you all about him: everything from his wonderful character and the way he could put a smile on any face to his generosity that knew no bounds.
He will be sorely missed but never - ever - forgotten. This is for you dear bro.

Competition Probability

Sunday last, my brother and I found ourselves wandering through Stanmore Common searching for deer at 7 o'clock in the morning. One thing led to another and before I knew what exactly it was I was doing, I found myself taking pictures of a magnificent stag. Anyway, we arrived back home and my brother said I should submit the photo to a competition. I told him the photo wasn't great. He agreed, but said that there was no harm in trying and I guess I couldn't really see fault in that. As it happens he managed to discover a Guardian competition whose deadline was the next day. So I hurriedly uploaded the photo and what not and then calculated my chances of winning. The way the competition works is that The Guardian will pick out the best 10 photographs and leave the general public to vote on the best one.
There are 1471 photographs in total but only 368 members. Assuming that the winning selection comprises 10 unique members (not only is this quite likely, but it also makes matters statistically simpler) and that the winning photos are picked at random (perhaps closer to the truth than we care to imagine, this assumption allows gives each photo the same probability of winning) what are my odds of being selected? Initially I thought it was 10/1471 but then I began to wonder if perhaps it were 10/368 (approx. 3 times as large). I am still puzzled by this somewhat contradictory statistic but once I have resolved this matter, you shall be the first to know.

If I were the Mayor of London...

I was informed by a friend of mine the other day that Earl's Court station is on the border of Zones 1 and 2 (which I was surprised to find out!). He went further to say that if one were to travel into central London from Earl's Court the oyster card would treat it as if it were in Zone 1, yet if you were to travel towards Zone 6 then it would treat Earl's Court as being in Zone 2 and perhaps more critically - charge you accordingly (which I was even more shocked to find out!).

I think this is an absolutely fabulous arrangement and "If I were the Mayor of London..." I would extend this to include even more stations such as High Street Kensignton, Bayswater, Royal Oak, Kilburn High Road, South Hampstead - to name but a few. As far as I see it, this system would benefit everyone as it is only when one crosses Zones that the cost drastically increases.

Apartheid in Seth Efrica

I am currently reading Alan Paton's Cry, The Beloved Country and came across this extract which I thought to be quite powerful:

What we did when we came to South Africa was permissible. It was permissible to develop our great resources with the aid of what labour we could find. It was permissible to use unskilled men for unskilled work. But it is not permissible to keep men unskilled for the sake of unskilled work.
It was permissible when we discovered gold to bring labour to the mines. It was permissible to build compounds and to keep women and children away from the towns. It was permissible as an experiment, in the light of what we knew. But in the light of what we know now, with certain exceptions, it is no longer possible. It is not permissible for us to go on destroying family life when we know that we are destroying it.
It is permissible to develop any resources if the labour is forthcoming. But it is not permissible to develop any resources if they can be developed only at the cost of the labour. It is not permissible to mine any gold, or manufacture any product, or cultivate any land, if such mining and manufacture and cultivation depend for their success on a policy of keeping labour poor. It is not permissible to add to one's possessions if these things can only be done at the cost of other men. Such development has only one true name, and that is exploitation.
... The truth is that our civilization is not Christian;

There was another passage which I have not written out here but in that, the one phrase that really stuck out was, "we believe in help for the underdog, but we want him to stay under".

Sieg Heil Vs Nare Hayderi

"Sieg Heil" is a German phrase, used in the time of Nazi Germany and The Third Riech, meaning "Hail Victory". More important than it's meaning however, is the response: "Heil Hitler" (Hail Hitler).
"Nare Hayderi" is an Urdu phrase, used by the Shia Muslim population of Pakistan/India. I'm not sure of the exact translation but it means something along the lines of "Hail Hayder" (Hayder was something in between a nickname and a title of the fourth Caliph). Again, over and above it's literal meaning, it is a call to which the response is "Ya Ali" (Hail Ali).

Aside from that being quite scary, I really don't get why people to this day say Nare Hayderi...

"Thirty-Eight Who Saw Murder Didn't Call the Police"

Kitty was an Italian American woman who lived in Queens, New York. She was made famous not only by her death and subsequent rape (if you can call it that) by necrophile Winston Moseley, but by the fact that the 38 witnesses to the atrocity carried out that night stood by and watched. That day was 45 years ago today. Below is an article from the New York Times (27/03/1964) by Martin Gansberg. The title of the article is the same as that of this post.

For more than half an hour 38 respectable, law-abiding citizens in Queens watched a killer stalk and stab a woman in three separate attacks in Kew Gardens.

Twice their chatter and the sudden glow of their bedroom lights interrupted him and frightened him off. Each time he returned, sought her out, and stabbed her again. Not one person telephoned the police during the assault; one witness called after the woman was dead.

That was two weeks ago today.

Still shocked is Assistant Chief Inspector Frederick M. Lussen, in charge of the borough's detectives and a veteran of 25 years of homicide investigations. He can give a matter-of-fact recitation on many murders. But the Kew Gardens slaying baffles him--not because it is a murder, but because the "good people" failed to call the police.

"As we have reconstructed the crime," he said, "the assailant had three chances to kill this woman during a 35-minute period. He returned twice to complete the job. If we had been called when he first attacked, the woman might not be dead now."

This is what the police say happened at 3:20 A.M. in the staid, middle-class, tree-lined Austin Street area:

Twenty-eight-year-old Catherine Genovese, who was called Kitty by almost everyone in the neighborhood, was returning home from her job as manager of a bar in Hollis. She parked her red Fiat in a lot adjacent to the Kew Gardens Long Island Railroad Station, facing Mowbray Place. Like many residents of the neighborhood, she had parked there day after day since her arrival from Connecticut a year ago, although the railroad frowns on the practice.

She turned off the lights of her car, locked the door, and started to walk the 100 feet to the entrance of her apartment at 82-70 Austin Street, which is in a Tudor building, with stores in the first floor and apartments on the second.

The entrance to the apartment is in the rear of the building because the front is rented to retail stores. At night the quiet neigborhood is shrouded in the slumbering darkness that marks most residential areas.

Miss Genovese noticed a man at the far end of the lot, near a seven-story apartment house at 82-40 Austin Street. She halted. Then, nervously, she headed up Austin Street toward Lefferts Boulevard, where there is a call box to the 102nd Police Precinct in nearby Richmond Hill.

She got as far as a street light in front of a bookstore before the man grabbed her. She screamed. Lights went on in the 10-story apartment house at 82-67 Austin Street, which faces the bookstore. Windows slid open and voices punctuated the early-morning stillness.

Miss Genovese screamed: "Oh, my God, he stabbed me! Please help me! Please help me!"

From one of the upper windows in the apartment house, a man called down: "Let that girl alone!"

The assailant looked up at him, shrugged, and walked down Austin Street toward a white sedan parked a short distance away. Miss Genovese struggled to her feet.

Lights went out. The killer returned to Miss Genovese, now trying to make her way around the side of the building by the parking lot to get to her apartment. The assailant stabbed her again.

"I'm dying!" she shrieked. "I'm dying!"

Windows were opened again, and lights went on in many apartments. The assailant got into his car and drove away. Miss Genovese staggered to her feet. A city bus, 0-10, the Lefferts Boulevard line to Kennedy International Airport, passed. It was 3:35 A.M.

The assailant returned. By then, Miss Genovese had crawled to the back of the building, where the freshly painted brown doors to the apartment house held out hope for safety. The killer tried the first door; she wasn't there. At the second door, 82-62 Austin Street, he saw her slumped on the floor at the foot of the stairs. He stabbed her a third time--fatally.

It was 3:50 by the time the police received their first call, from a man who was a neighbor of Miss Genovese. In two minutes they were at the scene. The neighbor, a 70-year-old woman, and another woman were the only persons on the street. Nobody else came forward.

The man explained that he had called the police after much deliberation. He had phoned a friend in Nassau County for advice and then he had crossed the roof of the building to the apartment of the elderly woman to get her to make the call.

"I didn't want to get involved," he sheepishly told police.

Six days later, the police arrested Winston Moseley, a 29-year-old business machine operator, and charged him with homicide. Moseley had no previous record. He is married, has two children and owns a home at 133-19 Sutter Avenue, South Ozone Park, Queens. On Wednesday, a court committed him to Kings County Hospital for psychiatric observation.

When questioned by the police, Moseley also said he had slain Mrs. Annie May Johnson, 24, of 146-12 133d Avenue, Jamaica, on Feb. 29 and Barbara Kralik, 15, of 174-17 140th Avenue, Springfield Gardens, last July. In the Kralik case, the police are holding Alvin L. Mitchell, who is said to have confessed to that slaying.

The police stressed how simple it would have been to have gotten in touch with them. "A phone call," said one of the detectives, "would have done it." The police may be reached by dialing "0" for operator or SPring 7-3100.

Today witnesses from the neighborhood, which is made up of one-family homes in the $35,000 to $60,000 range with the exception of the two apartment houses near the railroad station, find it difficult to explain why they didn't call the police.

A housewife, knowingly if quite casually, said, "We thought it was a lovers' quarrel." A husband and wife both said, "Frankly, we were afraid." They seemed aware of the fact that events might have been different. A distraught woman, wiping her hands in her apron, said, "I didn't want my husband to get involved."

One couple, now willing to talk about that night, said they heard the first screams. The husband looked thoughtfully at the bookstore where the killer first grabbed Miss Genovese.

"We went to the window to see what was happening," he said, "but the light from our bedroom made it difficult to see the street." The wife, still apprehensive, added: "I put out the light and we were able to see better."

Asked why they hadn't called the police, she shrugged and replied: "I don't know."

A man peeked out from a slight opening in the doorway to his apartment and rattled off an account of the killer's second attack. Why hadn't he called the police at the time? "I was tired," he said without emotion. "I went back to bed."

It was 4:25 A.M. when the ambulance arrived to take the body of Miss Genovese. It drove off. "Then," a solemn police detective said, "the people came out."




May her death not be in vain.

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