Good in Parts? Is There a Cure?

The latest in a loooooooooong line of pretentious verbs all got up to make ordinary tasks seem like something special, is to curate.  This may have been a verb in museum circles where people quite legitimately curate exhibitions, though publicly I recall the usual form was to state that ‘the curator of the exhibition was so-and-so’ rather than ‘so-and-so curated this exhibition.’  I think there’s a sort of ramping-up of importance going on here, an attempt to make things sound much more thingish, as Pooh bear would say; things which are otherwise quite ordinary.  So you have a person who puts a few things together and, hey presto, you’ve curated something.

Viz: this thing that came through my door this morning.  Now like many people I get little enough post these days and what I do get is generally unwelcome.  So when an envelope with my name on it came through the door, even though I knew it was probably junk, I bore it upstairs and ceremoniously prised it open.

It was a nice maroon envelope containing a piece of thick card.  An invitation, it said.  Do they really think that works on anyone any more?  I opened the card and read:

Invitation to join our exclusive membership programme that brings you a host of members-only ballots, incredible events and great offers.  We’ll also bring you guides, interviews and features…

Now like me you will not only have noticed the cliched ‘host’ but spotted that this is long on verbiage and short on information.  What are the ballots about?  What exactly are these incredible events?  Will I even want the offers?

It’s all irrelevant to me anyway because no matter how tempting the offers or how incredible the events I won’t be able to afford them.  That’s one thing about having no money – you can make your mind up pretty quickly on things.  Life’s too short to bother about special offers unless it’s for something you really need.  But here’s the killer blow:

… all specially curated for our members.

There it is – that word again.  Basically someone has put together a few things and called it curating.  There’s a word for this ‘bumping-up’ of importance, and the word is ‘reification’ – making a thing out of something that really isn’t anything:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reification

Oh but wait!  Down the bottom there are some examples: I can win tickets to see Tony Hadley (who he?) or go on a cruise to the continent (no thanks.)

So all in all I think it’s a no.  But it was the misuse of the word curate that clinched the deal – in my day curate was a trainee vicar with a dodgy egg…

Kirk out

PS – Tony Hadley is apparently ex-Spandau Ballet.  So that’s a definite no then…

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Getting in a Flap for Labour

We’re ramping up towards the election now (as if you didn’t know) and Corbyn is doing far better than anyone thought he would.  It’s not over yet though, and every vote counts; to which end I have been out leafletting.  Now, as I remember from my days on the Christmas post (every student did a stint on the Christmas post in the ’70’s) letter-boxes come in all shapes and sizes.  Well, not all shapes exactly; but they vary more than you might think: and not all of them are designed for the helpful transition of post from hand to doormat.

It is Labour party policy to have a spatula handy for poking leaflets through and avoiding the nipping of fingers by over-eager dogs.  But even with a handy spatula it is not a piece of cake.  Sure, there are the nice and easy letter-boxes that say come on in; a single flap that opens and closes with the ease of a well-oiled door.  But these are few and far between, and the older ones seem designed to accept nothing larger than a business card, causing valuable leaflets to be folded or squished.  But it gets worse.  Modern letter-boxes have two flaps: an outer one which you lift, and an inner one which you have to push against.  Between these flaps sit two sets of bristles, designed presumably to remove any stray dirt from the post.  It can be quite a performance getting a single leaflet through these letter-boxes; but some houses are not content with this level of difficulty and add a ferocious hinge meaning that if the dog doesn’t get you the letterbox will.

Honestly, don’t people want post?  You begin to wonder: for in addition to the letter-box problem, in richer areas you first have to play ‘hunt the door’.  Some houses seem to delight in hiding their front doors behind a hedge or round a twiddly wall – or else you have to guess which side of the house it’s on, and inevitably it’s not the side you try first.  This seems to me almost a sort of arrogance, like not signposting the entrance to some exclusive club.

But all is not straightforward in poorer areas either; many HMO’s (houses in multiple occupation) have the front rooms as a bedroom and ask you to trudge down an alleyway and locate a postbox at the back.

And – I will never again do this on bin-day: everybody’s bins were in the way.

Anyway, all local households have been issued with a Labour party leaflet which I hope and trust they will read, mark, learn and inwardly digest before going out to vote.

To vote Labour!

Kirk out

 

Abandon hope…

Poetry is pouring from every pore.  Here’s another

The Post

More bad news; the world

wants our money

it wants it here, and it wants it now

– that’s the end

of the news.

Incidentally, there’s a reference there to “Withnail and I” the excellent film with Richard E Grant and Paul McGann www.amazon.co.uk/review/R2G4XPVC6OXN6S

In this scene, Richard E Grant corpses so badly that in the end they just keep it in.  (Incidentally, I find the “death” imagery in comedy interesting – eg “I died”, “I killed them” etc.)

I’m working on another poem called, “On Not Being Published”.  It’s not fit to be seen yet, but when it’s thrown a few clothes on and brushed its teeth, I’ll give you a glimpse.

Discouraging event this morning – I received a comment from someone about the blog which I thought was genuine but which turned out to be spam.

There is a circle of hell reserved exclusively for spammers.

Per me si va tra la citta dolente

per me si va tra la perduta gente

http://ubuntusatanic.org/news/all-hope-abandon/

Dante is awesome