Ableist humour

I was sent this joke by an acquaintance, who is an amputee.

I saw my mate Charlie this morning, he’s only got one arm, bless him.
I shouted, “Where you off to, Charlie?”
He said, “I’m off to change a light bulb.”
Well, I just cracked up – couldn’t stop laughing. “That’s gonna be a bit awkward, innit?”
“Not really,” he said, “I still have the receipt, you insensitive bastard.”

Yes, it’s mildly offensive, I guess, especially in this age of overt political correctness and eggshell tiptoe-age. But then there’s the point that it pokes fun at the assumptions of the apparently ableist joke teller. There’s a lesson in there, I think.

And then add the fact that it was sent from someone who has a similar disability – albeit that he is missing a bit of leg, rather than an arm. Does that make it more acceptable? Is he ‘allowed’ to tell it, but me, not?
It’s an interesting question

I remember once going to the Jongleurs Comedy Club in Oxford. One of the acts that evening was a guy in a wheelchair. He had to be lifted onto the stage. Once there, he began his set with a plethora of jokes about people in wheelchairs. It was initially awkward, and then it was very, very funny. You could almost watch the crowd thinking, “Wow. That’s a bit harsh. But then… hey – if he’s in a wheelchair and he thinks it’s funny, why shouldn’t we laugh at it too?”
And then, suddenly, he told a joke about a blind football team, and it immediately all went very awkward again. But he was completely prepared for it. I recall him using the audience’s discomfort as if he’d just done some sort of social experiment – that it was ok for him to ridicule those with the same disability as him, but that he had seemingly crossed a line when he joked about a different affliction. He was absolutely right in his observations of our reaction.

It speaks volumes to me that it’s those aspects of the evening that I remember, rather than the actual jokes – although I do seem to remember that they were funny and it was an enjoyable night out.

Obviously, I hope that I never lose an arm like Charlie, nor the use of my legs like the comedian. But if I ever did, I’d like to think that I’d somehow still be able to appreciate this sort of humour.

As for the lightbulb joke above – I think it’s very amusing.

Pigeons v Pollution

Here’s more news from London, where things are warming up, and where pollution levels will surely rise in the heady heat of those halcyon summer days. But, how best to monitor this phenomenon? Dogs with briefcases? Rats with duffel bags? No – it’s pigeons with backpacks.

Seriously:

Pigeons wearing backpacks with air quality sensors are now flying around London.

Half a dozen racing pigeons have been released into the capital with GPS devices and a 35g sensor to measure levels of nitrogen dioxide being produced in the city. The pigeons took off from their Brick Lane base on Monday.

I’m unsure as to the benefits of the pigeon-based system rather than the more traditional ground-based sensors, but hey – pigeons with backpacks!

The birds are then, using the power of the internet, tweeting those who ask for a reading.

Coo! It works – I tried it:

Fullscreen capture 2016-03-15 125441 PM.bmp

The pigeon people suggest that close opn 10,000 people die each year as a result of air pollution in London. Ironically, they refer to Asthma UK as “their friends”, although pigeons aren’t exactly the best pets to keep if you have pulmonary problems.

Still, just six backpack-wearing birds spread across ‘The Big Smoke’ can’t make you cough too much, right?

Summer is coming

Not for us, of course. Winter is on its way for us, as indicated by the cooler evenings and later sunrises (which are already sitting at 0645, meaning that we get up very much in the dark). No, I’m obviously referring to the Northern hemisphere, which has been struggling with snow, ice, cold days and colder nights for the past few months.

A time for happiness, then?

Well, not for everyone, no. Because, as we’ve covered before, summer brings leaves to the trees and leaves on the trees block those views which you want(ed) to photograph.

But never has the displeasure at the approaching onset of foliage been expressed quite like this:

I think I see some leaves, even in this photo, evergreen leaves, attached to the tree on the right as we look. But there was, today, nothing like the visual ruination that will engulf everything in a few months time, turning intricately pleasing urban-rural counterpoint into a big old smudge of rural tedium.

There will be photographers of the pastoral persuasion who will have precisely the opposite opinion to this. But they can keep on taking photos of trees with leaves, without anything beyond being masked, obscured or hidden. No-one is stopping them. But in just a few weeks, Brian and his fellow (Northern) city-based ‘toggers will, once again, have to seek out new tree-free spots in order to fill their quota of images of entirely visible skyscrapers.

I will wait, I will wait for you

And I will wait, I will wait for you…

So sang banjo enthusiasts and all round folk rockers, Mumford and Sons.

Now, I’m no fan of Marcus Mumford and his merry band of men, but they hit the proverbial on the proverbial with this one. As did I in this post, because my Lily drone is now overdue.

This isn’t a surprise to me. They let me know, in a characteristically transparent email [I’ve PDF’d it here] which they sent before Christmas. My Lily is now due sometime in Summer 2016 (the Northern Hemisphere version thereof, of course).

We’re still ironing out logistics for our new shipping timeline. We expect to fulfil all of our pre-orders in the Summer 2016. Details will be shared as soon as they are available. We promise 🙂

The open-ended nature of that “Summer 2016” promise is mildly concerning, but hey, we’ll get there.

What is disappointing is that between the previously promised shipping date and this new one, I’m doing two overseas trips – one a once-in-a-lifetime one, including some prime Lily-playing territory – and I’m rather sad to be missing that opportunity.

Sognefjord_norway1

The crew at Lily continue to stay in touch just about weekly, informing me of latest developments, test results and new staff. I still believe that this is going to happen (although some on Facebook are more dubious) – I just wish it had happened already.

More art

Because the UK is rolling so much money, it doesn’t actually know how to spend it all (</sarcasm> in case you hadn’t picked it up), people and organisations can apparently afford to give their cold, hard cash to daft art projects. Like this one, open now at the Tate Modern Turbine Hall:

Empty Lot is a large geometric sculpture created using scaffolding, a grid of triangular wooden planters, and soil collected from parks across London including Peckham, Haringey and Westminster. Nothing will be planted in the soil, but it will be lit by lamps and watered throughout the six month display.

So, some soil, in some triangular planters, some lights and some water.
It might sound ever so dull, but you’d be wholly incorrect, because:

This living city of weeds is one of the most exciting works to take over the Turbine Hall
The Telegraph

Which doesn’t exactly fill you with admiration at those that have gone before. Which, you’ll recall, included Doris Salcedo’s Shibboleth:

…the first work to intervene directly in the fabric of the Turbine Hall and dramatically shifted our perception of the Turbine Hall’s architecture, subtly subverting its claims to monumentality and grandeur.

How very dare she?

Then there was I Do, I Undo, I Redo, in which Louise Bourgeois created the first Turbine Hall commission:

Consisting of three steel towers – each some 9 metres (30 ft) high – they dominated the east end of the hall. Visitors could climb the staircases to the platforms, which Bourgeois envisaged would become stages for intimate and revelatory encounters between strangers and friends alike.

And the infamous The Weather Project where Olafur Eliasson took the ubiquitous subject of the weather as the basis for exploring ideas about experience, mediation and representation.

And now we have some weeds. Or… er… not, if they don’t grow, because, of course:

The unpredictable nature of the work, which may grow and change from one week to the next, provokes questions about the city and nature, as well as wider ideas of chance, change, and hope.

Sweet baby cheeses…

emptylotdec2015

Call me a philistine if you must (and you surely will), but can’t believe that I am alone in thinking that something altogether better and more worthwhile could have been done with every single penny which was put towards this project. I mean, whatever next? Wrapping trees in bog roll?

No. Wait. We’ve already done that…

Ugh.