Alabama recently upheld a law by which “one could stroll down Alabama’s southern streets selling semiautomatic rifles and dildos, and be arrested for the dildos”. Obviously I’m with everybody sane in finding this unbelievably stupid, but I’m intrigued by the arguments that call it a matter of privacy.

I’m revealing my lack of political knowledge here, but presumably there’s a well-formulated basic principle of liberty stating that people get to do what they want unless there’s a reason not to, right? This reason usually being ‘if it harms anyone else’. When two (or one) consenting adults do something in private, then surely it’s ‘consenting’ that’s important, not that it’s private? ‘Privacy’ presumably here means ’something with which the state has no right to interfere’. But that’s an odd formulation - why not just say “we’re not doing anything wrong”?

I don’t disagree with the sentiment, but I think the formulation muddies the waters such that the statement becomes unworthy of the principle. It feels like a technicality, an excuse - anybody who considers dildos immoral only hears that you think you should be allowed to do something ‘wrong’ because nobody’s around to see you do it, when in fact it’s the baseless ‘immoral’ viewpoint that should be nuked from orbit¹.

Could it be historical, or tactical? Maybe saying “you’re wrong” in sexual behaviour arguments opens up a religious can of worms and detracts from the point. But using ‘privacy’ in this regard also links it to other connotations I consider debatable, if not outright dubious. Another definition could easily be ’something which nobody else has the right to know about’, but do we really have a right to demand certain things remain private? Maybe the media should have to respect privacy laws, but individuals? It might be impolite, but I’m unconvinced there’s any reason anybody shouldn’t be able to find out anything they want. It’s part of the give and take of freedom, as there’s no reasonable line that could be drawn between private and public knowledge.

I think people get to enjoy themselves any way they like because nobody else is harmed, and that they don’t want anyone else to know is irrelevant. And the latter is what ‘privacy’ is commonly accepted to mean, isn’t it? When I think of the concept of an ‘invasion of privacy’ it’s the embarrassment at something becoming public knowledge that’s the undesirable quality, and I don’t think feeling embarrassed justifies reaching above politeness to that of a human right. I’m happy with anti-discrimination laws if an ‘invasion of privacy’ goes beyond embarrassment, but going back a step to protect people from discrimination occurring seems to breach principles of freedom. Even if I could be convinced otherwise, I don’t think it’s firm enough to merge with an independently justifiable argument.

‘Privacy’ is more frequently used in relation to the storage of data and surveillance etc.. I have issues with these arguments too (although I’m certainly in the minority there) but the word is increasingly emotive. I wonder whether saying ‘privacy’ is like saying ‘freedom’ in that it immediately makes people sympathetic to your cause.

Using the concept of ‘privacy’ in this kind of case seems murky to me, and I can’t get a grip on the rationale. I’m just thinking via the keyboard, mind, and have a suspicion there’s a contradiction somewhere. Feel free to kick my ass if I’m talking nonsense.

1. incidentally, what the hell is the opposing argument here? [↩]

There’s currently a frightening amount of buzz about Twitter, the website that asks ‘what are you doing?’. I didn’t get it at first, but I’m starting to understand the appeal. The IM and phone integration certainly seems to work well, so I’ll give it a try for a while. My profile’s here, and currently very lonely with ‘0 friends’…

 The Avon was as high as I’ve ever seen it today. My usual walking route was completely impassable, or so I thought…

The ground is far lower around the corner, but sadly he was out of sight by then.

The Calvin and Hobbes searchable database is my new favourite thing. The dialogue is all indexed! Dinosaurs, snow sculptures, monkey heads…I can’t figure out how to link to searches, though. ‘Calvinball’ returns wonders.

I’m currently reading Stephen King’s ‘Cell’, in which Boston has just been burnt to the ground¹ after an as-yet-unexplained ‘pulse’ was sent through the mobile phone network, causing all listeners to be transformed into blood-crazy-psychos who wouldn’t be averse to disembowelling Dylan Moran. I am this evening concerned about Charlie Brooker:

When you dial a number, you have a choice of seeing said number in a gigantic, ghastly typeface, or watching it moronically scribbled on parchment by an animated quill. I can’t find an option to see it in small, uniform numbers. The whole thing is the visual equivalent of a moronic clip-art jumble sale poster designed in the dark by a myopic divorcee experiencing a freak biorhythmic high. Worst of all, it seems to have an unmarked omnipresent shortcut to Orange’s internet service, which means that whether you are confused by the menu, or the typeface, or the user- confounding buttons, you are never more than one click away from accidentally plunging into an overpriced galaxy of idiocy, which, rather than politely restricting itself to news headlines and train timetables, thunders “BUFF OR ROUGH? GET VOTING!” and starts hurling cameraphone snaps of “babes and hunks” in their underwear at you, presumably because some pin-brained coven of marketing gonks discovered the average Orange internet user was teenage and incredibly stupid, so they set about mercilessly tailoring all their “content” toward priapic halfwits, thereby assuring no one outside this slim demographic will ever use their gaudy, insulting service ever again. And then they probably reached across the table and high-fived each other for skilfully delivering “targeted content” or something, even though what they should really have done, if there was any justice in the world, is smash the desk to pieces, select the longest wooden splinters they could find, then drive them firmly into their imbecilic, atrophied, world-wrecking rodent brains.

This after Orange gave him a free Samsung E900. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

1. this happens very early on, so isn’t really a spoiler [↩]

My phone is now working again, but any messages sent in the meantime are gone for good, so if there was anything important please re-send…

My new sim card arrived over the weekend, and upon phoning to register I was told it could take 24hours to complete, during which I’ll have no service. Urgh. Apologies to anybody trying to contact me…

Kudos to Lisa for having the nerve to introduce herself to Joss Whedon. Shiny.

I saw Jesus Camp on Friday, but I’ll write that up when I’m a little more awake (why write this sentence at all, you may ask - well, that would be a valid question).

Beatties are selling Playboy bedsheets:

I can’t figure out the market for this. Speaking entirely stereotypically, your average 15-year-old boy is going to have this vetoed by his family, and anyone over the age of 18 is surely going to be worried about the reaction of girls he brings back? Machine washable, though. Handy.

Yesterday night was spent playing with a Wii. Stock levels are still astonishingly low, and my friend Nod finally picked one up with the help of www.wiipreorder.co.uk. It arrived on Saturday, and was swiftly configured. I’ve never been one for consoles as I quickly get bored of pressing buttons¹ but the Wii really is good fun.

The motion sensitive controllers mean playing tennis is a joy - it’s good enough that you can aim the ball, rather than just getting in its way - and two people leaping around a lounge makes for some entertaining moments. It supports up to four players, which would just be dangerous I was also impressed by baseball (really quite tricky) and bowling (not so tricky), but the standout game was Rayman Raving Rabbids, which is completely mental.

In it Rayman the picnicking duck is kidnapped by a giant and placed into an arena with a crowd of dynamite and scythe-toting rabbits, and made to complete increasingly insane tasks in order to win plungers that allow him to climb a wall to his escape. It’s like David Lynch doing Watership Down for Dreamworks. The tasks are mini-games that take full advantage of the Wii’s motion-sensing abilities, from simply pumping the controllers up and down to make Rayman run very fast (this is surprisingly tiring) to whipping one in circles around your head as to throw a cow as far as possible to flicking the controllers to destroy rabbits attacking Rayman on the dancefloor, perfectly in time with the beats and syncopations of Cyndi Lauper songs. My favourite, however, involves Rayman manning some kind of beach-hut when from the sea rise hundreds of snorkelled zombie rabbits. Obviously the sane solution to this predicament is to fire your gun of carrot-juice at the invaders, filling their snorkels with orange goop until they drown. Aiming is done by the right hand while the left furiously pumps the carrot juice gun². It hurts like hell, but is oddly entertaining.

If I could afford a Wii I’d pick one up in a heartbeat, but for now I’ll steal Nod’s

1. PC games have a mouse, so it’s different. It is. [↩]
2. yes, it is possibly the most euphemistic children’s game ever [↩]

I’m pretty sure my mother foiled a theft on Saturday. We were passing La Senza and saw a woman drop something as she walked out. I saw her male companion spot it and assumed he’d pick it up, but he kept going. Mum moved faster than me, quickly turning and saying ‘excuse me’. The woman jumped sky-high as Mum indicated the garment on the floor, and stood frozen for a second as companion picked it up and took it back into the shop. Was most odd - we can’t think of a logical explanation for their reactions if she wasn’t stealing it.

I’ve just sent off a job application for a fantastic opportunity that I think would really suit me. I expect competition is fierce, but it’s worth a try. Shall report back. I had to drop out of seeing a rarely-nearby friend to complete it in time, but hopefully she won’t mind too much (sorry, Claire).

One of my favourite podcasts just ended: the Penn Jillette radio show went off the air after they were apparently unable to reconcile a longer talkshow format with Penn’s schedule. Damn, I used to listen to that show all the time! As well as the large amount of atheistic content, one of my favourite moments had Penn receiving an on-air call from his wife, who told him she was having the baby and he should really come to the hospital now. A couple of very entertaining recent episodes had the Bad Astronomer fighting a US game-show host who is convinced the moon landings were faked. Ah well, I’ll just have to start buying the Bullshit! DVD box sets. And find something else to listen to while driving.

The Church of England’s General Synod was held this week. The CoE is unhappy with the media. Things are bad:

Dana Delap of Durham complained that one of her sons had been taken to see Casino Royale and that another was obsessed with Power Rangers. “Tell me the things that my children should be watching,” she pleaded.

Dreadful, isn’t it? Her children were entertained by violence that isn’t real. I suffered similarly as a child, and I now spend much of my time summoning giant robots and delivering roundhouse kicks to psycho witch women. She’s right about Casino Royale, too: the torture scene demonstrated not that torture is unspeakably vile, but that it is fun times! I now can’t walk past a chair without wanting to cut a hole in it.

If only these children had some kind of guide, some kind of (admittedly broken) moral compass that isn’t completely foiled by fake cartoon violence. Different programming is obviously needed. Perhaps something detailing the brutal beating and cricifixion of an apparently nice guy whose father wants him to suffer for reasons that make no sense, then saying it really happened - nothing damaging there!

What else do the CoE have issues with?

Edmund Marshall, a lay member from Wakefield, West Yorkshire, said that although he and his wife enjoyed Strictly Come Dancing they objected to the “melodramatic excess” of singling out losing contestants.

Did the CoE just indirectly criticise Strictly Come Dancing? They go TOO FAR. Brainwashing children in faith schools? Standing firm for bigotry? Loudly demanding I respect your belief in talking donkeys? All these things I can handle. But keep away from the dancefloor. I not only used to watch the Power Rangers, you know, I also play computer games. There is no telling what I am capable of. 

But really, “melodramatic excess”? I guess pointing out the ‘off’ button isn’t enough for people who have moral issues with the concept of competition. Mr Marshall continued:

“To me as a Christian, the ethos is to seek and save those who have been losers,” he said.

Must. Resist. Too. Easy.

I’m seeing Twelfth Night this evening, after a kind friend donated two tickets this morning. It’s in Russian, with English subtitles. I’m not sure what to expect, but it should be interesting. Although I know the rough plot I’m not very familiar with the play, so hopefully I’ll be able to follow it. The website quotes a review:

Magical, darkness and light, the dualities of good and evil, and the possibilities of transvestism all explored with hummingbird wit and precision…it is the funniest of Twelfth Nights

It’ll be different, at least! I’m skipping my dance class, but it’s no big loss at the moment. We’ve been going over existing steps for a long time, which is useful from a technique standpoint, but isn’t very exciting. I can see that my teacher wants to get everybody up to the same level, but it’s becoming frustrating now. I’m hoping things will pick up after the upcoming dance weekend.

A practically perfect photograph:

The tiger cubs and orang-utans have apparently become friends after sharing a room at an Indonesian zoo. Awwww. There’s video too.