The Beatles And A Mass of Humanity

This blog has been going for about 13 months and yet there hasn't been a single post about The Beatles, the pop/rock group and phenomenon that has been a major part of my life and my psyche for 25 years since the day in about 1988 when a boy in his early teens brought up on mainly commercial 1980s music suddenly encountered music that was largely new to his ears but which had been created 25 years previously. The music I'd known up to that point mainly featured the 'self-conscious synths' of the New Romantics and the 4-minute single created by gifted songwriters but with an overemphasis on production and electronic technology. Through the compilation 'A Collection of Beatles Oldies... But Goldies', which spanned the singles and most famous album tracks from 1963 to 1966, I marvelled first at the 2-minute immediacy of 'She Loves You' and 'I Want To Hold Your Hand' from '63, so direct, exciting and driven by guitar and voices that were young, raw and uninhibited with the power and energy to immediately excite the ears and lift the spirit. From there came the still catchy but more world-weary 'Ticket To Ride' from '65 and then the next sensation of 'Eleanor Rigby' from '66, 3 years on from 'She Loves You' but a quantum leap in terms of progress. Rather than go through the incredible Beatles story and try to make it my own, I'm instead going to just jump to one small but significant aspect that perhaps typifies both their appeal and what we are all striving for.

In around 2010, I watched some video clips of Beatles expert Mark Lewisohn, a veteran of many reference books and radio specials about the group, discussing a forthcoming trilogy of Beatles books called 'All These Years' that he was writing and which would eventually offer the complete story up to the split in unprecedented detail and drawing from truly obsessive full-time research. Even when I saw the length of the first one released in late 2013 (900 pages, with an 'author's cut' edition of 1700 pages!), I didn't really believe that there could be much information that a seasoned Beatles expert like me hadn't already come across. Tackling the author's cut this year, it turned out to be a 3-month odyssey of steady reading and one fantastic revelation after another, giving a much clearer sense of why the Beatles became so big. Bear in mind that this first book of the trilogy, entitled 'Tune In', only takes the story up to the end of 1962, where The Beatles are on the cusp of fame but without a hit single to their name, so the utter powerhouse that The Beatles have already become is at this point without the force of the now-legendary Lennon-McCartney songwriting partnership and their incredible creations that have been with us 50 years and are probably going to last for as long as music is appreciated.

What comes across clearly from 'Tune In' is that The Beatles were stars from about 1961, 2 years before anyone outside their immediate part of the world (the north-west of England) and one city in Germany had ever heard of them. After an incredible Hamburg apprenticeship which encompassed 415 stage hours in 14 weeks from August-December 1960, followed by 503 hours in 92 straight evenings from April-July 1961 and would include 3 more visits of varying lengths in 1962, the basic elements of their appeal were already there, and they had a following which was intensely loyal and already showing signs of being obsessional. They weren't the only band to log this approximate number of hours on stage in Hamburg, but crucially they were the ones who seemed to take full advantage of the remarkable opportunity to grow that the relentless Reeperbahn slog, which began on the 20-year anniversary of the first Nazi bombs hitting Liverpool, afforded. To cut a very long story short, they learned incredible stagecraft, being able to take all the various elements of the music they loved and meld them into something hard rocking but also soulful, soaring harmonies of incredible beauty contrasting with a relentless beat and the raw brilliance of John Lennon's driving rhythm guitar. They weren't afraid to branch out and play all kinds of songs, including show tunes and music hall numbers. They provided cabaret and comedy, able to ad lib when there was electrical failure in the venues they were playing, but they also had 'the toughness of hard lives in dangerous places', as Lewisohn's book puts it. Their shows seemed to have everything and encompass the history of music and the experience of life in every note, chord and beat.

2 glorious nights at 'The Cavern', the legendary venue on Mathew Street in the centre of Liverpool that in its original form was a converted fruit warehouse cellar used as an air-raid shelter during the Second World War, exemplified The Beatles' appeal. (For the record, the Liverpool tourism industry rather dishonestly omits to mention that the Cavern that exists now is a replica, built a few doors down from the original, which was demolished in the 1970s to make way for a car park!) The venue itself had a pungent aroma (odour) that none who played there have ever forgotten, a mixture of disinfectant, damp, fruit from the warehouses, toilets, perspiration, body odour, soup, hot dogs and cigarettes, an awful but incredibly evocative combination. The Beatles played theirs and the club's first all-night session in summer 1961, with all the usual raw energy and breathless atmosphere heightened in this '6-act, 10-hour party'. One can only imagine what it was like, all the smells previously described intensified even further by even more heaving bodies than usual and the cooking, serving and consumption of large amounts of scouse (onions, carrots, potatoes and meat), once the favourite dish of Norwegian sailors and which gave Liverpudlians their nickname. There are overflowing toilets, pouring ceilings and walls, blown fuses, and lots of musical equipment being lugged through the crowds and into the crowded club.

In early April 1962, they managed to top this night with a private party aptly called 'The Beatles For Their Fans', a farewell before their 3rd 'tour' of Hamburg, which saw them become headliners at the newly-created Star-Club. The night was everything they hoped it was going to be, and the 650 or so who attended were treated to a set by the leather-clad Beatles who, after an interval and then an announcement by resident D.J. Bob Wooler, suddenly appeared in their new mohair suits, which garnered a mixed reaction initially from the fans who couldn't quite let them evolve from what was familiar to them but which was eventually accepted as inevitable to ensure progress. Aside from their usual set, The Beatles and support act The Four Jays jammed the jazz standard 'Mama Don't Allow' for a full 20 minutes, including George on trumpet (which he couldn't play at all), everyone taking solos and improvisation to the fore. John and Paul later don Santa outfits (in the middle of spring!) and George wore a silk Noel Coward dressing-gown and Christmas-cracker hat. At the end of this incredible night, the Beatles delivered a special pre-planned parting message along the lines of 'don't forget us', the group having a genuine fear despite their apparently untouchable status that in their absence the fickle audiences might move on to someone else, and step down from the stage into a version of what is later to be called 'Beatlemania'. 

Local music newspaper 'Mersey Beat' wrote this up as their 'greatest-ever performance', and personally it may well have been the highpoint of their collective life together, especially because they were about to be dealt a blow that even these tough Liverpool boys would find it hard to recover from, namely the death at 21 of their friend and former band member, the gifted painter Stuart Sutcliffe. On an April night in this tiny space in the world, unknown to anyone outside its immediate vicinity, there was all kinds of magic created, largely through human connection created by music and the sense of belonging to something, which I believe is that vital and sometimes elusive element that may be the key to a happy life. For all their success, perhaps this is one of the last times that it felt real, with the fans showing a remarkable appreciation for the group's incredible talent without the wild-eyed and berserk hysteria that would eventually drive The Beatles away from live performance into  becoming the studio band of 'Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band', a million miles away from sweaty Cavern nights.

This particular Cavern night in 1962 was most bittersweet for drummer Pete Best, whose tenure in the group was, probably unbeknownest to him, coming to an end. He was front and centre of one of the many highlights of the night, as the Beatles added a new gimmick to their stage act with the song 'Peppermint Twist', which reflected the still-popular but ultimately short-lived dance craze. Pete came out front from behind his drums to both sing and dance the song, with Paul taking over on drums and George playing Paul's left-handed bass upside down. Best was joined in the twist by a fan and regular 'Cavernite' Kathy Johnson, and as the song went on and on without ever looking like it was going to stop, Pete and Kathy began a romantic partnership that has so far lasted more than 50 years. Was Pete, who was sacked as drummer just before stardom but who has maintained his health, sanity and privacy while eventually getting financially-rewarded through royalties from the 'Beatles Anthology' project, the ultimate loser or the ultimate winner? Without wishing to lapse into cliches, the music world and the public were the ultimate winners of the Beatles story. Without attempting my own version of a biography, I will probably include a few interesting Beatles vignettes as blog posts in the future.

Please leave a comment if you have anything to add to this.

Goodbye Cruel World (written in 2006)

‘goodbye cruel world, I’m leaving you today, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye’.

5am, an early start. Too excited to think, too excited to sleep. An end, something exciting. Like the day the world changed. I watch those videos endlessly, everything’s going fast, a day no one will ever forget.

The room is neat. Everything has been thrown away or put away and there’s a minimalist look to it. I love my white room the way it looks now.

‘goodbye, all you people, there’s nothing you can say, to make me change my mind, goodbye’.

Flick the t.v on and try to wade through all the twee crap on British breakfast tv. An explosion in an oil refinery. Trouble in those other parts of the world. Those parts where people live lives of meaning, where their every possession is precious, means something special, and their family is dear to them. They have something to wake up and fight for. I have a catalogue of failure, envy, fear, bitterness, inferiority, despair and hopelessness. But most of all, my life’s not real. I have no real need to wake up beyond basic functions.

I tried to pick myself up earlier this year, tried to be enthusiastic, used a couple of drinks to boost my confidence but soon realised that sociability brought certain obligations. Suddenly, lots of people phoned me and when I wanted to sit alone, they would talk to me in excited tones about trivial things, and my migraine would come with a vengeance. In the end, when I couldn’t take it any more, I had to get out of it in the only way I could and in the only way that would put them off. Inappropriate behaviour did the trick but instead of going round one of their houses and throwing their telly out of the window which would have really upset them and incurred damage and costs, I simply organised a gathering at my house, let it build up and when a gentle, well-meant barb about my shithole of a room came my way, I went ballistic and threw my own telly out of the window. I shouted at them to get the fuck out and like the nice, harmless people they were, they did so without any resentment and ill-feeling towards me. That was that, and since then, I’d barely spoken to anyone. My family would ring and I sounded upset and unhappy. They would talk to me up to a point, with practical suggestions about jobs, but then they’d give up. That’s enough, all you need to know. Except that last week was my birthday, and I made an effort and looked good for my parents. I was too busy to see the rest of my family, planning.

‘goodbye cruel world, I’m leaving you today, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye’.

‘goodbye, all you people, there’s nothing you can say, to make me change my mind, goodbye.

Into the fresh air, a cool breeze. Perfect day. Go to the park, one of many in the capital. See nature, get my mind right. Not right for tomorrow, right for today. Walk around, shout with happiness at how I suddenly have no inhibitions. I see someone coming towards me and start to laugh. What will they do? What can they do? Go past the lake and think about how water is my friend. Or will be soon. In a few hours, I’ll be travelling through the water. Water boy, that’s me. Floating through, nothing violent, it’s dark and no one’s around. I won’t affect anyone, won’t upset anyone. And for now, in the park, safe and sound, I shrink a couple of feet and I’m in the big park with my brother and sister and I run and run and it’s beautiful. I don’t stop and don’t have any walls, any protection. I don’t need it. And I feel like that now. I’m floating. I sit and smell the fresh air. England in the autumn is fantastic. It’s cool and I’m cool. My temperature is just right.

I had a fever when I was very young and I felt sick and hot. For 4 days, I was catatonic, intermittently screaming and sobbing. Ever since then, I’ve suffered from a build-up of pressure which transforms itself into heat. I’ve relived this fever many times and I’ve made myself cold to take it away, so I’ve never been the right temperature. And like the dinner party in March, pithy humour aimed in my direction has brought on the heat.

‘goodbye cruel world, I’m leaving you today, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye’.

‘goodbye all you people, there’s nothing you can say, to make me change my mind, goodbye’.

Today, there’s no heat and no cold.


(link to Pink Floyd song)
 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fxCUyy_aVzA

The Delightful Truth About Bullfighting

Bullfighting ('corrida de toros' in Spanish) is alternatively a 'blood sport', 'barbaric spectacle', 'fine art' or 'culturally important tradition' which has existed since at least the 4th century and very possibly for many centuries previous to that. Its continuous existence was largely unopposed until recently, but in just the last 15 years polls have seen a dramatic spike in those opposing its continuing existence, primarily in Spain and Mexico. Approximately 100,000 bulls a year are killed in bullfighting, which is actually 'bullkilling' to many as by the time of the ritual, the bull is in a terribly-weakened and defenceless state. The bulls chosen to 'fight' are bred on ranches for one specific purpose, and while the more aggressive bulls might be considered better for the fight itself, many matadors request more placid ones to naturally lessen the chances of getting seriously injured themselves.

Bulls are generally peaceful animals, only getting aggressive when threatened and like most animals reacting largely on pure instinct rather than malice. In the 2 days before the fight, the bulls are fattened up to make them slow, wet newspaper is stuffed in their ears so they can't hear anything, vaseline is rubbed on their eyes to blur their vision, cotton is put up their nostrils so they can't breathe well, and a needle is stuck through their genitals and a caustic solution rubbed on their legs to hinder their balance and prevent them lying down. While in the truck being transported to the scene of their ritual slaughter, their horns are strapped to the ceiling to stop them moving and freaking out, and drugs are administered to them (either uppers or downers depending on how their handlers want them to behave). The bulls are then kept in a dark box for 2 days before suddenly seeing a 'light at the end of the tunnel' and naturally charging maniacally towards this light, suddenly finding themselves in a bullring with cheering crowds baying for blood and entertainment, and trumpets blaring to signal the start of combat. The circular ring stops the bull finding a corner to hide in, which is its natural instinct at this point. 

In the first act of the 'fight', the 'picador' (a low-level 'torero' on horseback) lances the bull between the shoulder blades with a 2-inch-thick 'pica', hitting a gland which releases adrenalin and weakening its neck muscles to make its head hang so that the 'matador' (Spanish for 'killer'), can get to its heart more easily to deliver the 'coup de grace' final blow. In the next stage, the 'banderilleros' arrive on foot with barbed, harpoon-like darts which are plunged into the bull's body to weaken it while they also run it in circles to get it confused and disoriented, leaving not a great deal for the main torero (commonly known as the 'matador' in English-speaking countries), who is the 'rock star' of the bullfighting spectacle, to do to win the 'fight'. The matador has 15 minutes to kill the bull and is given 3 'avisos' (time warnings). If the bull isn't dead by then, the matador is disgraced (don't you just love the skewed idea of what is disgraceful?!). He arrives with his red cape, (the colour chosen to hide blood stains rather than to anger the bulls, which are in fact colour blind), his sword and his posturing, and the elaborate movement of the cape further disorientates the bull. The 'death blow' of the sword between the shoulder blades is supposed to instantly sever the aorta, the main trunk of the arterial system, if accurately delivered. However, this rarely happens with this first blow and the bull instead starts to bleed out profusely, its heart and lungs punctured and blood streaming through its nose and mouth. Further blows are administered quickly to 'mercifully' kill the bull (isn't it touching that mercy is suddenly an issue?). After the contest is won, the bull is dragged out in chains (either dead or barely alive) and cheered for its bravery, (it has been known for some bulls to be spared from death and put out to stud for the rest of their days).

After the bull's death, the crowd can petition for an exceptionally brave matador to be awarded one or both of the bull's ears and sometimes even its tail. The bull is skinned, and its 'fresh meat' (consumers love fresh meat, don't they?) sold in the aftermath of the contest. Up until 1930, the picadors' horses, which are generally old and docile, also suffered horrendously from being gored (pierced with horns) by the trauma-crazed bulls, and they used to have their vocal cords severed in advance to avoid them screaming in pain and spoiling the crowd's enjoyment and the nobility of the spectacle. If the horses are hurt, they were quickly patched up and sent back out, sometimes multiple times. Thankfully, this part has been modified, and now the horses wear a padded, protective covering called a 'peto'.

The above of course is the case against bullfighting. But what is the case for it? As stated in the first paragraph, to some it is a fine art and a cultural tradition that shouldn't be lost. But for those who are pro-bullfighting, ask yourself this? If bullfighting had never been invented and was somebody's new idea in 2014, would you be for it? Rituals exist largely unchanged from times that we would consider barbaric. In true hypocritical or at least ignorant fashion, we talk with disgust of those primitive times when the public would routinely watch public executions as entertainment, parents would bring their children to the Colisseum to watch Christians being fed to lions in the Roman 'bread and circuses' days, and whites in the Southern states of the U.S.A. would write to family and friends of witnessing 'a great barbecue' after witnessing blacks being burned alive. Matadors are brave but that doesn't necessarily make them heroes, and the evidence suggests that it is a relatively easy process to dispatch the hopelessly-disadvantaged bull and restore the 'honour' of the matador. It is true that modifications have been made, such as the protection given to the horses involved in the ritual, and I'm certainly open to hearing more arguments in favour of bullfighting but I've failed to find too many among the mind-bogglingly large amount of information on all topics available on the internet.

In 1991, the Canary Islands became the first Autonomous Community in Spain to ban bullfighting, and in 2006 Spain's second city, Barcelona, banned it, followed by 38 other  municipalities in the province of Catalonia. Interestingly, and reflecting the tribal nature of humans, this has led to other parts of Spain, notably Barcelona's great rival of Madrid, making a point of stating their great pride in the ritual and demonstrating particular resistance to a possible outlawing of it. In 2010, bullfighting was banned from being shown on some state-owned TV stations until after 10pm, so as to stop children watching what is presumably a noble spectacle only for adults. The number of bullfights in Spain fell dramatically from 2,500 in 2007 to just 500 in 2013, partly through genuine lack of demand but mainly owing to government cuts to small towns who now can't afford to hold them. In 2010, the central government in Spain moved the jurisdiction on bullfighting from the interior ministry to the cultural ministry, making a complete ban less of a possibility. It is well-known that bullfighting is funded by public money, with the bull breeding industry receiving a high of almost 600 million euros in 2008, some coming from European funds to livestock. It is not alone among European cultural endeavours to be funded in this way of course, and the large revenues generated through tourism are often used as arguments to justify its existence.

As for the question of suffering, some will point to studies which have shown that experiencing physical pain is not automatically synonymous with suffering as they affect different centres of the brain; however, the bull's distress is surely plain for all to see, and veterinarians have tested the bulls at various points of the contests and confirmed huge spikes in adrenalin. One 'bandallero' was quoted in an interview that the 'magical' bulls used in the contest have a special cell in their body that prevents them from feeling pain, but can this really be believed?

The use of animals for food is justifiable to some degree and certainly would be if their killing was found to be always done quickly and painlessly, but unlike food, entertainment is in no way essential, and bullfighting is a spectacle that originates back to an age which is incomparable to today. So, I refer back to an earlier question. Would bullfighting be invented now if it hadn't been already??

The Pros and Cons of Smoking

Parent to their teenage child:

'Now son/daughter, let's do a little cost-benefit analysis of smoking in case you're thinking of taking it up as your new hobby like your friends.

Costs- a cigarette is tobacco leaves (which are held sacred in their natural state in many ancient tribes and used in rituals) wrapped in paper and covered in around 600 approved chemicals, 70 of which have been found to cause cancer. Among the delightful chemicals that those lovely people at the tobacco company put in your expensive cancer sticks are those used in batteries, candle wax, industrial solvent, insecticide, toilet cleaner, rocket fuel, sewer gas, and just for added effect, arsenic! Smoking kills around 5 million people a year worldwide and is expensive and heavily taxed. Aside from the smell, which the smoker generally isn't exposed to because their sense of smell is affected, your teeth are going to turn yellow, you won;t be able to run a flight of stairs without wheezing, your lungs will go black, your blood pressure will be increased, the optic nerve in your eyes will be affected as will your reproductive system and numerous other internal systems, and you are going to face a vastly-increased chance of heart disease and heart-related chest pain. 

Benefits- you'll look f***ing cool and everyone will think you're a true rebel!'

At the end of the day, we all self-medicate, but maybe a little investigation and analysis of the root causes of our suffering might be an idea.

A Society of Drug Addicts??

Following on from my previous post about confronting one's demons through deprivation, it has suddenly reoccurred to me that society and its people are held together by drugs, if you take this in a fairly broad sense. The word itself has always been used in mainstream life to refer to the illegal kind, while the medical establishment prefers to use the word 'medication' or 'medicine' to describe the substances which contribute to the multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical industry.

So, consider this. What would happen if there was a sudden removal of alcohol, nicotine, caffeine, processed sugar and all the chemicals (the 'E' numbers) from the industrial food of today from society? As we all hang on a much finer emotional thread than we'd like to believe, I think the mass withdrawal symptoms would cause a huge, mass freakout, at least in urban areas. Take it one step further and take away the technology of smartphones and all those devices that remove us from ever feeling surface loneliness. Of course, the removal of modern technology would be recoverable because we survived for so long without it initially, but general intoxication goes back to the dawn of man.

What is my point? Simply that we seem to live in an age of 'desperate jollity', where nobody is allowed to bring down the mood on a Friday night with anything that remotely confronts our artificial dependencies. Those kind of people are simply bad company! 

The Many Sides of David Blaine's 'Above The Below'

Please note - this post presumes that the endurance feats described did actually happen and were not fundamentally an illusion themselves, and also does not comment on the moral aspects of an unnecessary starvation for no particular cause or officially-stated reason. If this is a problem, I suggest thinking of it as a story about an interesting fictional character who is perhaps trying to convince the world of the illusion that he actually exists.

New York-based American magician and illusionist David Blaine was born in 1973 and grew up in Brooklyn, spending most of his childhood fatherless and very attached to his Russian- Jewish-descended mother. At 4, he saw a magician performing magic on the subway and a lifelong fascination was sparked. Always 'a strange kid', he felt isolated from his peers, a classic loner who allegedly once shut himself in a closet for 2 days to test his endurance, needed braces on his inturned feet and suffered from asthma. He found through magic a way of gaining popularity, just as other famous misfits such as Orson Welles and Woody Alen had before him. He moved to Manhattan at 17, dated Madonna at 19, and got his first T.V. special in 1997, called 'David Blaine's Street Magic'. It gained attention not only for Blaine's 'loping charisma' but also for the fact that it tended to focus as much on the reactions of ordinary people on the New York streets as on the tricks themselves, these reactions transcending colour, social status and other social divisions.

In 1999, he began to perform endurance stunts, which appeared to be a sideline to his career as a magician and 'illusionist', a term never quite defined (or particularly applicable to Blaine) outside the obvious illusion of magic itself.  His first stunt involved entombing himself in an underground plastic box underneath a 3-ton water-filled tank for 7 days with nothing but water to sustain him, a feat he found so difficult that he immediately got himself a 'seven days' tattoo after he'd finished. He declared himself 'a changed man', the solitude and pain having radically altered his perspective. As with his street magic, people of all walks of life surrounded him and became interested in the spectacle. In 2000, he encased himself in a massive block of ice for nearly 3 days, this time confined to a standing position as well as the other deprivations and discomfort. On this occasion, the stunt's finale was televised but cut short when Blaine appeared to lose his mind temporarily  and was cut out of his ice prison. In 2002, he was lifted by crane onto a 100-foot (30-metre) high and just 22-inch (half-metre) wide pillar in a park, where he stood for nearly a day and a half with only 2 retractable handles on either side of the pillar as a lifeline should he lose his balance (In fact, Blaine was battered by high winds and unusually cold weather for the month of May). Unlike the previous 2 stunts, this one had a specific finale. Barely able to feel his legs, Blaine finished by jumping down onto a platform of cardboard boxes, which had been constructed towards the end of his time atop the pillar. All 3 of these events happened in New York and all followed a similar pattern of Blaine surviving deprivation, receiving water through catheter tubes and other devices and finishing off being taken to hospital in a weakened state while being filmed by the media and cheered by adoring fans. 

In recent years, he has performed more stunts of varying effectiveness, all in New York, such as being submerged in a water-filled sphere for a week and then attempting to break the world breath-hold record, being shackled to a spinning gyroscope for 52 hours before jumping 30 feet onto a wooden platform, spending 60 hours hanging upside-down (in fact, he briefly stood every hour for medical checks) before a 'dive of death' that went wrong due to adverse weather after the finale was delayed for a speech by President George W. Bush, and a rather ludicrous stunt where he was atop a pillar wearing a conducting suit that came in handy since 7 Tesla coils were discharging one million volts of electricity on the pillar thorugh the 72 hours Blaine was there. The repeating pattern of Blaine pronouncing prior to the stunts that he is 'cheating death', not eating prior to and during the stunts, and the finale of hospitalisation and a closing speech to his adoring and cheering fans, has become repetitive and boring. Blaine has also been criticised for his love of celebrity and seeing no problem doing magic to and hob-nobbing with such dubious characters as Henry Kissinger and the aforementioned President Bush. However, between the 'Vertigo' pillar stunt and his more recent events, he did his one and only endurance challenge in London, which he called 'Above The Below', an event I personally found interesting and worth discussing and writing about and which involved Blaine isolating himself in a box for 44 days with no food and only pure water. 

Once again, I'd like to stress that there is a possibility that this was an illusion, and in addition there was undoubtedly a rather silly celebrity/reality T.V. element to it. However, anything can potentially be learned from, and Blaine's writings while in the box and comments during and after the stunt, as well as my own observations, may make for thought-provoking reading. The box was plexiglass and just big enough for Blaine to stand up or stretch out, with about 1 foot of wiggle room lengthways and 3 feet across. The box was suspended 30 feet in the air attached to a crane near London's famous Tower Bridge. He brought a couple of blankets and numerous small items, including one which I'll mention at the very end which may hold the key to Blaine's motivation. He went in the box on Friday 5th September 2003 and came out on Sunday 19th October, both events filmed for T.V. specials as was the entire stunt, captured by a webcam which offered 24-hour access to Blaine, who 'slept with the light on' throughout the stunt. 

Here is a short video giving a flavour of the stunt.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lEMKWaYSOmc  

The public reaction was a mixture of titillation, as they found yet another alternative to sitting in front of the television, bemusement, cynicism at the apparently dubious authenticity of the stunt when practised by an 'illusionist', and a certain degree of anger and hostility. The great British public and others in the capital threw various items at the box, usually eggs which made quite a loud sound as they smashed into the side of the thin glass, and one joker used a remote-controlled mini helicopter to dangle a hamburger

tantalisingly close to the starving Blaine. Women bared their breasts at him and men their behinds. Unlike his other stunts however, this one was extremely long, just shy of a month and a half, and those with shorter attention spans soon grew tired of it. So, Blaine just lingered and the power of nature, physiology and psychology began to take hold.

The Physical

Starvation is a process, and as the body experiences low energy intake, it enters into a series of metabolic modes which miraculously serve to reallocate resources and defend the body by buying it time before it finds its next food. When we're eating normally, we use  as our main fuel source glucose produced by the body breaking down the energy molecules known as glycogen after each meal. The stored energy is allocated to the brain, muscle tissues and red blood cells, this glucose-burning mode normally lasting around 6 hours. After glycogen stores have been used up, the body turns for energy to fatty acids, which also miraculously fuel the brain after being broken down into 'ketone bodies'. In this metabolic phase, the body's required level of glucose drops considerably. After about 3 days, all the body's cells start to break down protein which releases amino acids into the bloodstream that are converted by the liver into glucose to maintain brain functioning. This stage involves your body cannibalising itself by chewing away its muscles, which then start to waste away. In a nutshell, your body eats through its fat, muscle and tissue in order to supply the brain with glucose, a little like a chess player sacrificing their pieces in order to protect the king. The extreme deficiency of vitamins and minerals profoundly weakens the immune system, and death can come from infection or from a heart attack brought on by tissue degradation or severe electrolyte imbalances. Sensibly, David Blaine had stocked up on fat reserves and looked distinctly chubby when he entered the box. At around 20 days, he reported a taste of pear drops in his mouth, which was the taste of the aforementioned 'ketone bodies' produced by the body's burning of fatty acids. Skeptics noticed some bloating in Blaine's stomach, which caused many to doubt that he was genuinely starving himself, but in fact the metabolic starvation phases can involve an enlarged liver causing a bloated stomach. Blaine survived, looking remarkably weak and having hardly moved for the last 3-4 days, his blood volume sharply decreased and his heart having shrunk. After arriving back from his perspex prison, he was weighed and found to have lost 24.5kg, over a quarter of his original body weight, and his BMI had dropped from 29.0 to 21.6. The refeeding process was delicate, involving first liquid food, which caused Blaine stomach cramps and a sleepless first night, then finally solids. After the stunt and before refeeding, Blaine allowed doctors to take blood samples from him to be used for research into vitamin deficiencies by those in the nutritional medicine field, thus providing a functional value to the stunt.

The Mental

David Blaine is a person who always looks either very happy or very intense, at least in public. Through the 'Above The Below' event, he smiled a lot, often to himself, and appeared in good humour. However, he also displayed the obvious effects of the kind of extreme isolation that 44 days in a box entails, despite being physically so close to vast crowds of people, a curious 'so near but yet so far' situation. We have to add to that the effects of starvation on the brain and try to find what causes what. 

Firstly, studies in starvation have found that this alone can bring about both relatively mild effects like increased irritability, apathy and lethargy up to full-blown depression, hysteria and severe emotional distress. There is also the undeniable fact that virtually all food eaten in urban areas is in the broad sense 'processed', so there is the 'drug withdrawal' factor to be considered, as I found myself when I experimented with a diet of 80% raw food a few years ago. Add to that the sheer strangeness of not eating, and there is no doubt that it has a profound effect. After a few days of initial trauma however, there is also a sense of calm, which has been mentioned by Blaine and also Christian Bale, who took on the extreme diet of one cup of unsweetened coffee and an apple or can of tuna a day for 4 months for his role in 'The Machinist'. I myself felt the same during my diet, suffering pangs and withdrawals initially and then finding the truth that industrial food and the modern diet was as much a habit and a comfort as a genuine source of nutrition.

Regarding isolation, the magazing 'Psychology Today' states that human contact plays a similar role to food in that we function better and are instinctively drawn to it. Of course, some prefer 'alone time' more than others, and spiritual practices like meditation and religious faith can undoubtedly provide an alternative to external contact, often more effective in fact because the spirit tends not to have the kind of specific needs and wants  that often compromise and limit person-to-person interactions. However, isolation will in some people expose them to increased stress hormones, erosion of arteries, high blood pressure and diminished learning and memory. There is also an emptiness and 'breakdown', a word and concept which usually has negative connotations but is actually encouraged as necessary by those who have experienced spiritual awakening, either sought or inadvertently found, for example Ekhart Tolle, the author of 'The Power of Now'. In a sense, it is the same 'no pain, no gain' ethos that those in the field of physical health and exercise constantly espouse. Deprivation of both food and human contact simultaneously will no doubt heighten the senses by removing the 'dulling' and overwhelming aspects of both processed food and mundane human interaction. David Blaine told Dr Powell-Tuck, who supervised his refeeding programme, that he had had mystical experiences while watching the dawns and sunsets from his lonely vantage point. As is detailed below, the deprivation leaves a person open to things without distraction, and from the list of books Blaine has quoted from and recommended to others on his website, it's clear that he's the kind of person naturally drawn to heightened awareness and experience.

Performance Art as reflection of culture

'Performance art', along with its cousin 'conceptual art', is a broad art form covering a vast range of areas but in many cases centres on a direct and changeable relationship between performer and artist, often provoked and expressed with little direct coaxing by the performer and with a totally open forum to create or continue this relationship. Many scoffed at the notion of this stunt being 'a performance piece' because Blaine was essentially doing nothing but waving, drinking water, writing in a notebook and on the inside of the box and occasionally having conversations (and a game of chess) with those in the crowd below. The main devotees cheered when he got up to do some stretches and urinate, reflecting the modern culture of cheering 'heroes' for mundane acts, and this element was ripe for criticisms of its ridiculousness. However, performance art is about provoking reactions, and the fact that Blaine's inactivity maddened some in the crowd to the extent that one tried to cut off the pipe supplying him with water may tell us something about modern culture's nervousness about apparently 'doing nothing'. Of course, Blaine was actually doing a lot, watching the crowd and their reactions, meditating, reflecting and writing. Perhaps the crowd could have asked themselves why they needed to be constantly entertained. As a person who has twice taken silent 10-day meditation retreats, I can attest to the fact that doing nothing for long periods of time nowadays is remarkably difficult but worth it for the insights it can bring in a person so inclined.

Another way that this 'performance' was effective was in reflecting certain aspects of the British character. By nature -or culture- , British people tend not to like lofty pronouncements, such as the aforementioned 'performance art' claim and Blaine's other comments about his 'love' for the crowd and the exercise as a 'spiritual journey', a phrase that the self-help book genre has successfully reduced to a fatuous cliche. Whether there was any racist element to this 'Yank' coming over and garnering so much attention is open to question, though some of the insults I heard yelled late on a Friday night on my one and only visit to the site did include references to his country of origin.  As the stunt went on and Blaine clearly weakened, a more heartwarming British trait of sympathy for the underdog took hold, and most of the original detractors either stayed away or begrudgingly commended his endurance. The hysteria on his release from the box was a curious and quite inexplicable thing, while his 'rock star' status to some young girls in the crowd was strange but more understandable. One very young lady caught his stinking blanket when he threw it down to the crowd just prior to the box being lowered, and clutched it to herself while being interviewed, saying she'd never wash it as she wanted 'David's smell' close to her. (This girl is now in her late 20s, one wonders if she still has the blanket or if she's at least washed it!). 

A changed man

I always thought that David Blaine was simply trying to survive this stunt in order to prove to himself and maybe others how much a person can tolerate and survive, so I was surprised to hear him say, about 30 days into the stunt, that 'I'm learning in here'. Suddenly, the spiritual aspect made sense, as he found what those on meditation retreats find after a few days and many hours without obvious stimulation, namely that a new perspective appears. You suddenly find how utterly meaningless and absurd most of life is. Are the things you own important, or is your home 'a museum for your stuff', as author and educator Dayna Martin has observed in many houses? Is your career important? Perhaps at the time you're in it yes, but in the film 'About Schmidt', the recently-retired Jack Nicholson goes back to visit his former workplace a week later, perhaps thinking that they are somehow falling apart without their 'valued employee' of 20 years or more. Schmidt instead finds that his young replacement is already fully-trained and the company has quickly moved on, his 2 decades of service reduced to a memory in a matter of days. Blaine wrote down a lot of his observations while in the box, unfortunately declining to publish them, but he will have found that the magic of sunsets, sunrises and smiling faces is only a cliche because of overuse, and that connection with nature and others is probably the greatest source of happiness available to us in this realm. The opinion I've just given almost certainly has a name, a label, but names and labels appear to be a protection against direct confrontation of an idea that appears to be challenging but ultimately true. The courage to confront the possibility of something profound and go through the pain to find it is for me the ultimate personal reward in life. 

After a week or so of recovery, Blaine rushed fairly quickly back into his hectic modern life of money, celebrity, glamorous girlfriends and his 2 mobile phones, happy that he'd written down everything he learned because he'd already started to forget it. Like many charismatic characters, he is a contradiction, an innately spiritual person embracing shallow celebrity, said to be irritable with subordinates and as prone as anyone to attention-seeking. Perhaps our British equivalent is Russell Brand, who is also charismatic, slightly mysterious and straddles the line between profundity and absurdity. The claims that Blaine's motivation was purely money were well-countered by him pointing out that he could have made the same money doing a few magic events at high-profile dinners and events rather than starving and freezing in a lonely box.

Perhaps the key to it all lies in one of the few possessions David Blaine had in his perspex prison - a picture of his late mother, Patrice Maureen White, who died when he was in his early 20s. He'd always been close to her and regarded her as something of a saint, a single mother who took multiple jobs to keep food on the table for her children. She'd suffered a long bout of painful cancer that ultimately killed her, and David had watched her accepting her fate and her condition for months on end without any anger or bitterness. Was he playing out his version of this as a kind of sustained bout of grieving? Perhaps.

some interesting links  - 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fqJ0GaVU344 - street magic 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UaQ9dDtiNAY - David Blaine and Moonlight Sonata

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XFnGhrC_3Gs -  David Blaine TED Talk

Pure Heaven

Quite a departure here from my usual non-fiction but with themes that are familiar to this blog. This was written somewhat 'outside myself' without too much thought, so the meaning of it is not entirely clear to me...

'My final night on this earth was a Thursday, an innocuous day except for its proximity to Friday and the blessed weekend. On this Thursday evening, I went for drinks with a few work colleagues to 'celebrate' the leaving for pastures new of one of the company's hotshots, who evidently had his real friends to entertain at the weekend. This was a small company, a 'feeder', which groomed creative and talented people before bowing to their inevitable departure to a place which materially gave them more of what they wished for. Our manager Mr Stever was in the Sam Phillips of Sun Records mould, and a few Elvises had come and gone while he'd been in charge. He was a man I respected, and in an alternative to this story, I could be writing about the time when my life finally took shape and I found my home. In fact, I did like this job because it was relaxed and allowed me to take home reasonable money without taxing my energy levels, and it also allowed me to simply exist while I allowed my fatalistic tendencies to dictate. I was not a happy person, and this was compounded by the fact that I had no material reason why not. In the eyes of society, I had had a normal upbringing with no trauma, and there's no doubt that I had loving parents. This only made the situation worse though, as I just indicated. There was a private despair I felt, not easy to articulate to others because it didn't fit the mould of what I generally was. In reality, I mainly was a happy person, if you weigh up time in percentages. I laughed a reasonable amount, and when I was in company I had a pretty good time. However, certain works of fiction and non-fiction have noted that everyone has a private world, with feelings that are darker than those which they display in public. Even taking this into account, I refused to believe that many could feel the absolute and total despair that I did at certain times. External factors played their part to some degree, among them weather and physical illness, but my problem was internal and elusive. I stopped believing, stopped trying and became one going through the motions, an actor playing the same role because he hasn't the heart to take on something else.

So, it was 10pm and I had drunk a combination of beer and wine and was feeling warm. We were outside the pub, just leaving, when we noticed an argument starting over a woman. The 2 fighters had both been consuming beer at the English rate of consumption and now it all 'kicked off'. At first, it was fists but then out of nowhere the one who actually had the girlfriend produced a blade. I hadn't seen this, and in my slightly tipsy state had decided to intervene and instigate a peaceful outcome, fatally doing this with a smile on my face which could I suppose have been taken for a certain disregard for the importance for the protagonists of this confrontation. At times like these, I really did feel that love was what was needed, and that all that was required was to take the pressure down a few notches. Perhaps my attempted push did appear aggressive, and the man with the knife plunged his weapon into the right side of my chest in one swift movement.

I lay there and appeared to be smiling. How can i describe the feeling of my injury, of being stabbed? I suppose a 'stabbing' pain is the best i can come up with. I know that it hardly hurt at all. I lay on my back, feeling at peace while everyone around me acted hysterically. The ambulance was on its way, I only survived around 7 minutes after the knife went in. At first I teetered, between life and death. I was the victim of a stabbing, which sounded gruesome, but in fact I should be honest and say that it was something of a blessed relief. In those 7 minutes, I had many thoughts: about my family and how this would upset them, about people i'd known, especially the very few who I felt really understood me, and about life itself. Perhaps my smile was at the irony of recent events because in the past I'd done so much planning for the future, lived in the future in fact, which I felt was a slight improvement on living in the past, and had imagined all kinds of scenarios. Then, the irony disappeared and I realised that my quiet letting go of hope, of life, had inevitably led to an event. Something had to happen because life always plays you some kind of card, good or bad, and here was mine. As the blood drained from my face and then from my body, I left this mortal coil, musing that of all the people I'd known and places I'd been, it was these people, my work colleagues, nice people but hardly soulmates, who were in my company when it ended. I selfishly felt relaxed and relieved. Unbeknownst to me until much later, my family had been incredibly philosophical after the initial shock of 'that' phone call, the one all parents dread. Perhaps it had been a good thing that I'd made my position in life clear to them. I wasn't getting married, wasn't having children and at this moment was no longer playing a card.

That's the first part of this short story. Part two is heaven. It DID exist! Does exist!, and it's something fairly like it's depicted in the film 'A Matter Of Life And Death'. You go up in a lift, fairly modern-looking, and if you were wounded when you died, you still have the marks but without the pain, like Christ after his resurrection. But you are most certainly not going back to Earth. You're here now, and here you stay. The first hour or so is a lot of red tape, a time of limbo, a time between the worlds, where earth-influenced bureaucracy has not quite been eradicated. So, you do earthly things like changing your clothes and having a shower, but because everyone who enters heaven has already fallen into a calm state, there is no drama attached to the waiting, changing and showering time. It just happens, without incident and without ego. From there, you emerge and enter into something that resembles a kind of social centre, a place for people to meet and exist, with grounds for walking and enjoying the vast space. What you realise quickly is that the ego has genuinely disappeared in the people up here, however like humans they appear. You walk around and, because you don't quite shake the earthly influence instantly, you're waiting to hear an argument, or someone hustling someone else, or some type of 'action'. Instead, you find people communicating without their minds being a barrier. They live in an extraordinarily detached world, nothing bothering them at all. No pain, no anger, no bitterness. You can't feel pain because there are no nerves to feel it with. No worries, no fears, no hunger, no thirst (and hence no toilet). Not even any desires. This would sound awful to some people, who would claim that leaders have promised a utopia similar to this before, with disastrous consequences. But here, there's no money. No lust for power. It is something approaching utopia. Except it's not defined. It doesn't need to be. It takes some adjustment, but it doesn't take too long, and as the 'sheople' slowly realise that nobody else is going to start any trouble, and that if they did it themselves their 'heart' wouldn't be in it, that instinct just ceases. So, we have all these souls existing, who look like people but have none of the needs that grind down humans. So, are they like animals, free to roam in the wild? Not exactly, because it is a pure myth of animals 'roaming free in the wild'. Most animals don't, discounting crocodiles for example, who spend the majority of time in a form of meditative state. Animals in the wild are constantly aware of the need to feed themselves, to stake their territory and to ward off potential predators. Ok, they don't torture themselves like humans do with 'to do' lists and anxiety over what bad news has been fed to them by the mainstream media. Their brains are not overloaded with external, artificial temptation, but they still feel anxiety and of course need. So, our souls in heaven are perhaps 'living' an existence more like that of a domesticated pet. Cats and dogs in the home do seem content, if they are not and haven't previously been mistreated, and if you take away the need for food, they are probably even happier.

So, i'm here, in pure heaven. It's not perfect, but I'm refreshed by having lost the instinct to judge. To compare. I'm existing, but it is pleasant, and you get to talk to a lot of people. Everyone remembers their earthly existence, and some like to use their names, but as time goes on the memories fade and the names start to mean nothing. In fact, veterans told me very quickly when I arrived that it takes around 5 years, which is an estimate since time becomes of little importance, for memories of the earthly existence to completely fade. Similarly, hunger, which turns out to be mainly 'food anxiety', lasts as long as you feel anxious that you 'should' be eating. People who still remember talk about their earthly lives, and have fun trying to figure out what it all meant. Couples who were married sometimes meet, but there are no arguments because the reason to argue has gone. The reason was their lives, their situations, and all the very subtle external factors that influence humans every day without them having the slightest inkling of them. Most people in their earthly incarnations knew about advertising, and were fully aware, for example, that McDonalds used posters that made their burgers look nice. However, did they or does anyone ever stop to wonder that experts in human psychology may be being employed against us, people who know things about the average person that the person doesn't know themselves? That messages are put in advertising media that are impossible to spot if you're not looking for them? Now, here in heaven, all that's gone. No money, no stress, no need to work for 'the man', nobody trying to set the course for your life, no artificial, processed, chemicalised food, no heavy metals in the water system. But, there is the sun, and there is meditation, and there is contemplation without ego-driven thought. So, there are earthly things up here, and it's easier to identify the good ones. But what about excitement? football? good films? Well, the nerves which produce the need for excitement are gone, so there's no need for excitement. What passes for a mind doesn't need entertaining though it can still converse. 

I wonder at this point if this is a propaganda story calling for a life of meditation and contemplation. Possibly. Perhaps it's possible to create pure heaven on earth with a tweaking, admittedly a major one, of the system. Even with all the human drives and the system as it is, there are steps that can be taken. Discarding mainstream, corporate media would be a good start. Realising that money is not backed by anything tangible, and that the pieces of paper we use are simply 'promises to pay', would also be positive. And trying to see that a lot of the hate and bitterness that takes the joy out of life can be controlled and lessened with a bit more contemplation. Instead of turning on the t.v. to be shown someone else's view of life every second and to constantly be given limiting options on thought, we could take time to enjoy silence or to read a book that fires the imagination. Meet the neighbours, and try to establish human relationships just like those in heaven. Without ego. Show the other person that you're not talking to them for any reason other than to share some contact. That it is possible to have human relationships on earth that haven't bought in to the propaganda. That not buying into the propaganda is actually allowed, not just something people talk about. Existing in a pure state, just like at the very beginning.

Now, returning to heaven, here's the fun part. All the souls in heaven are aware of their previous earthly existence and so recognise others that they shared events with. Previously famous people get recognised therefore, but without that driven lust on Earth, they are just a curious and amusing oddity until the memory fades. There is no screaming their names and certainly no mobbing. The souls that were truly connected on Earth are observed to gravitate towards others magically, so out of all those billions of souls, there is a stronger-than-average chance that they will run into each other. The souls seem to last what could be calculated as around 50-100 years in the first realm before moving into the next, by then physically and mentally unrecognisable from their previous earthly identity. So, certain figures from the last 50 years exist in the first realm, and this brings up some interesting encounters. It's perfectly true that Lee Harvey Oswald has met John Fitzgerald Kennedy on a number of occasions, and of course without the emotions of pain, hate, anger, bitterness, guilt etc..to inhibit their interaction, they can almost joke about those big couple of days in Dallas, memories now fading but still clear enough to recall their final days on Shakespeare's 'stage'. LHO insists that he didn't kill JFK though he did consider the initial offer and he was there in Dallas that day. Unfortunately, he can't remember why! In this realm, with nothing to gain from lying and nothing at stake, there is no reason to disbelieve him. Famous (and non-famous) murderers gravitate towards their former victims, especially those to whom they did horrible things, and everyone can discuss it together, with no thoughts of superiority and inferiority, moral or otherwise. Please note that i have chosen the word 'heaven' as a recognisable name for the first realm following the soul's time in a physical body on Earth. It's not the religious heaven that would not permit a murderer to ascend to the good place. John Lennon and George Harrison have sung together, with Mark David Chapman in attendance. Does that sound incredible? ridiculous? it's actually perfectly natural and right because the barriers have been lifted and things can be seen without all the conditioning that must by its very nature skew one's judgement.

Many 'people' exist in this place, or look like people for a while anyway. I look back now and again to my life, as many do, and I can see things that I never saw while I was there. I can now see all kinds of ways that I could have achieved what I have now, the peace and lucidity, without my time on Earth having to end. Of course, that's the elusive nature of what the creator has created. He is not driving events really, just putting something in place and leaving it for others to play with, to improve and sometimes to destroy.

'All that you touch and see, taste and feel, love and hate, save and waste, give, deal, buy, beg, borrow or steal, all you do, say, eat, everyone you meet, all you slight, everyone you fight, all that is now, gone and to come', is right here now.'

Thoughts on the programme 'Executed'

Last night, I watched the Timothy Evans section of the programme 'Executed' on ITV in England and it was frustratingly slick television mixed in with genuine grief and sadness from Evans's family at the event itself.  A friend of mine who worked for a media company gave me the sound advice, 'don't ever believe what you see on TV', which doesn't mean that none of it is true but that it shouldn't be taken as literal truth and is all presented and edited to give a certain impression, usually a very simple one so that the viewers don't have to think too hard while watching.

Some of the programme was correct in that Evans's mother did shout that Christie was the murderer outside the courtroom during Evans's trial, and Evans did eventually accuse Christie of the murders of his wife and daughter.  The ever-smiling Tim was part of his character but not the whole story, and Beryl seems to have been a nice person although fairly adept at handling herself in physical confrontations. It was interesting to see the original photos of the Evans family, and there's no reason to doubt that both parents doted on baby Geraldine, the most innocent victim in this sorry saga. 

However, certain known facts were not mentioned or were misrepresented and other things simplified:

- Tim is portrayed as a harmless dimwit, fitting in nicely with the 'standard version' from Ludovic Kennedy's book. The files that were opened in the 1990s show this to be not the case, as he was a drinker who was seen with his arms round his wife's neck by one of the neighbours during an argument. The programme highlights his childlike nature and low mental age, but he was also able to hold down a job in the adult world and his mental age doesn't make it less likely that he was the killer, as it is a primitive, primal act.

-Basil Thorley, Beryl's brother, genuinely grieves his sister, but unlike how he is portrayed in the programme, he always thought Evans did it even when nobody else did, and chatted amiably with Christie outside the court during Evans's trial.

-There is no mention of the Evanses' frequent and often violent arguments, and a rather rosy picture is offered.

-Christie is portrayed in a simplistic way as aggressive and horrible. Again, part of this is true, and he was apparently rude to Evans's sisters when they came to inquire about the whereabouts of Tim and his wife and daughter, but Jonathan Oates's book offers a more rounded portrait of Christie, who was liked by many he came into contact with

-Only one of Evans's 4 official statements is mentioned, the one where he implicated Christie, whereas he confessed 3 times to killing his wife and baby.

-It is assumed that Evans' pardon in 1966 meant that he was officially an innocent man, whereas Judge Brabin's verdict was that he probably killed his wife but not his daughter.

-Basil Thorley says that Beryl had told him that Christie had 'interfered' with her and 'touched her up'. Why then would she agree to let him abort her baby?

The whole case is very sad and tragic, but my point as ever is to cut through the emotion and try to draw an accurate conclusion. The police probably were hasty in their original conclusions and keen to get the case put to bed quickly. John Eddowes theorised in his 1994 book that Christie could have been a police informant, which would explain his economic survival despite being frequently off work.

TV programmes exist to serve advertisers rather than viewers and so need to tow the establishment line. Of course, this case was different in that officialdom has 'officially' been found to have got it wrong, but once again an overly simplistic review of the facts is given, as befits the make up of mainstream programming.

Summary of 'The Money Myth Exploded'

Thanks to my friend Francesco for first sending me this story, written by Louis Even, which brilliantly explains in a simple way the insanity of the money system. The following is a summary of the story's narrative with my own comments in bold. It should be noted that until widespread attention was given to this subject via the Internet, and possibly still even now, many bankers and economists confessed to being ignorant of how money actually worked, and how faith-based it was.

'A shipwreck leaves 5 survivors, whose makeshift raft is carried by the waves to an island, which they come to call 'Salvation Island'. The 5 are a carpenter, a farmer, an animal breeder, an agriculturist and one who is both a prospector and a mineralologist. Finding the island to be rich in semi-domesticated animals, soil suitable for cultivation, fruit trees, large stands of timber, and signs of rich timber deposits, each could serve the common good with his own particular talent.'

The clear indication here of course is that the members of society have between them, like the islanders, all the diverse skills required for a society to function, given the abundance of materials on our planet. 

'Over time, houses and furniture are built, and the fields are tilled and seeded. The island has true wealth, that of food, clothing and shelter, of all the things to meet human needs. Any surpluses of production are exchanged for other surpluses. It isn't a perfect life but is still preferable to urban depressions suffered in the past. There are no taxes or fear of property seizure by bailiffs. All they are lacking is a system of exchange preferable to pure bartering, whose drawbacks are that value is not always easy to compare between items, and said items for exchange are not always produced at the same time. Apparently, they have no idea how to set up an effective money system.'

It might seem strange that they couldn't think of something usable, but the setting up of a money system is something that seems to have eluded many over the years, and of course certain equipment is usually required.

'Just when it seems to be an unsolvable dilemma, another shipwreck refugee rows onto the shore. He happens to be a banker called Oliver, bespectacled, wearing a smart suit and full of confidence about his ability to solve all their problems very quickly. The 5 workers immediately defer to this angel sent from the heavens, and it is made clear that no work is expected of him except to manage their money. Oliver has paper and a printing press with him, and also a small barrel 'full of gold', which he explains must be hidden as befitting 'the soul of healthy money'. After printing $1000 in $1 notes and presenting each worker with an equal share, he buries the barrel of gold.'

Note here the immediate deference given to the man in the suit, whose perceived high status and confident demeanour are never questioned. The workers are immediately in a place of inferiority and blind trust. The uninspected barrel of gold is all that's needed to justify the legitimate printing and distribution of paper money.

'Oliver thinks to himself, 'My! How simple it is to make money. All its value comes from the products it will buy. Without produce, these bills are worthless. My five naive customers don't realise that, and their very ignorance makes me their master.' Oliver carefully explains to his workers that the money is his, based on his barrel of gold, and that they have to pay 8% interest on the loans from Oliver. They all sign a paper, binding themselves to pay back both the 8% interest and the principle (the amount loaned) under penalty of confiscation of property. Oliver explains that this is 'a mere formality' and that he has no interest in their property. None of the 5 workers, so happy to have these precious pieces of paper money in their hands, question the friendly banker.'

We all grow up associating these attractive pieces of printed paper with monetary value, so who wouldn't feel happy to be given large numbers of them? We are also well-conditioned through school education, television and print media, to trust confident people who look smart and appear to have all the answers.

'At first, everyone is delighted as trade doubles. However, Tom the prospector quickly realises that to pay back the full $1000 plus interest (i.e. $1080) is simply not possible with only $1000 in circulation. Oliver can quickly take over the whole island if he desires. Production has increased but the money hasn't, and all 5 of the workers are struggling to reach their debt obligations. Foreseeing this, Oliver agrees that only the interest need be paid back, and that the original $1000 can continue to be held by the men, though it is still owed and not cancelled. With the unlikelihood that all will be able to pay back and produce equal amounts, he encourages them to set up a tax system where those with more money pay more into the common pot, and all the money raised is collected in order to pay back the interest to Oliver. The workers are still dubious but accept it for now.'

The banker took pains to point out that his requirement of just the interest was a way of adapting to new circumstances driven by the unrest of the workers, which governments claim to want to do when the people don't react well to a certain policy. This is a ploy often used by those in power, and the idea that anything is pre-planned and secretive is of course written off as 'conspiracy theory' (see blog post entitled 'Conspiracy Theory - A Powerful Phrase!'). While it's true that this adaption to circumstances is true on a small scale, there is ample evidence that social engineering happens many years, probably decades, in advance, and that the clever people in charge, who are not buffoons as they are often portrayed, have already anticipated reactions and planned many moves ahead, like a grandmaster on the global chessboard. 

'Oliver exults, 'These people are stupid, and their ignorance is my strength. They ask for money and I give them the chains of bondage. They could mutiny if they wanted, but they are honest, hardworking men who have signed a pledge and are sure to honour it.' Drunk with power and possibility, he remembers the famous pronouncement , 'Give me control of a nation's money, and I care not who makes its laws.' If he can instill his philosophy into the minds of those who run society, the masses would be content to live in slavery with the elite as their overseers.'

We really could mutiny if we wanted, particularly when we consider our monumental advantage in terms of numbers to the tiny elite. Smaller nations have achieved the taking back of power, as seen in the largely-unreported action taken by the people of Iceland to see that the bankers' debts did not become their burden. Organisation isn't easy, but a first step is to realise the sophistication of the propaganda exercise going on all around us and to reject the predictable and limiting labels of 'extremist', 'paranoid' and 'conspiracy theorist'. Instead, we need to glorify thinking and careful consideration of reality.

'On the island, production was up but money tended to clot rather than circulate due to the pressing need to pay Oliver back his interest. Those paying higher taxes complained and raised their prices, forcing those paying less or no taxes to buy less. If one employed another, they got locked into a stalemate and constant friction over money and the struggle to meet the cost of living. Life seemed to have lost its joy and the work was simply and only a means to an end. They tended to blame each other for their plight. Harry the agriculturist concluded that 'progress' had spoiled everything, and Oliver's system seemed to have been designed to bring out the worst in all those involved in it. His friends, who weren't as stupid as Oliver thought, quickly agreed and confronted Oliver once again. 'Money's scarce because you take it all. We work and work but our situation gets worse and worse.' Oliver's only response is to try to convince them that 'a good banking is a country's best asset', and offer to mortgage their latest acquisitions and lend them more money (based on his hidden barrel of gold), as well as creating a 'consolidated debt' that can continually be increased ad infinitum (necessitating higher taxes), or at least for as long as there is ink for his printing press. In the end, it comes down to Oliver's belief that 'the degree of a country's civilisation is always gauged by the size of its debt to the bankers.''

This last section is fairly self-explanatory, but what leaps out is the successful 'divide and conquer' strategy, and all the stress and tension that is created by this need to pay back a debt that is carelessly and frivolously handled and, as we shall see later, not what it seems. Oliver's belief about debt and civilisation is certainly a message that is diseminated in the mainstream, where the United States of America is still thought to be the global superpower despite its mammoth national debt rendering it, in literal terms, the poorest country in the world. It survives of course on military might but also reputation, perceived collateral, faith and propaganda.

'After one final plea about the virtues of national debts and his being 'the torch of civilisation' on the island, he finally turns nasty and proceeds to remind them of the pledges they signed and finally demand back the money he originally loaned them as well as the interest! In other words, he starts to put the squeeze on the death grip. To maintain his control, he also employs the classic contrived tactics of maintenance of ignorance, constant distraction and ideological division. Observing a fairly even split between conservatives and liberals with varying levls of neutrality, Oliver sought to block the union of the islanders by creating and printing 2 weekly newspapers, each applying to the opposite ideology. The Liberal paper blamed everyone's troubles on the Conservatives' relationship to big business, while the other blamed the Liberals' political affiliations.'

The word mortgage (mort-gage) literally means 'death pledge'. The division tactics are plain for all to see in the print and televisual media, with their clearly biased views, affiliations and occasional large monetary 'donations' to political parties. What is puzzling is that the majority of the educated public can see the central illusion of 'the left' and 'the right', while still allowing it to be part of their discourse: cognitive dissonance. Originally meaning a simple division of pro-monarchy and anti-monarchy in revolutionary-era France, these terms have now assumed a contrived life of their own, with seemingly every talking point under the sun having a clear 'left' and 'right' position. This is not to mention the general similarities on most central topics, noted by many, between the 2 main parties in the U.K. and U.S. political systems at least, and this is surely true in many or most other countries' political systems.

'The story's conclusion starts with Tom the prospector finding an empty lifeboat containing a book called 'The First Year of Social Credit', which explains how money gets its value not from gold but from the products it buys. Money should involve credits passing from one account to another according to purchases and sales, so that it equals production, rather than interest being paid on newly-created money. Progress is marked by the issuance of an equal dividend to each individual, and prices are adjusted to the general purchasing power by a coefficient of prices. Tom sets up a system for his island mates which involves non-paper credits and a credit fund which is periodically increased but not to the detriment of others, with no interest payments required and money as an instrument of service rather than a master or executioner. Oliver no longer has the faith of the islanders and thus has no power and no more option than to disappear. The islanders find and smash open Oliver's barrel and find it...full of rocks, not gold!'

So, in a nutshell, the banker with his nice suit and air of respectability and wisdom had carved up the island based on nothing but the islanders' reverence to the idea of gold. Just as paper notes were originally I.O.U. receipts on gold and morphed into 'fiat' currency, which basically means that it's the only paper money which can be used, a recent study found that 97% of the 'money' circulating in the British economy was digital. Yes, 97% of what flows in the economy is a figure on a screen!, and since the gold standard was removed many years ago, it is basically being created out of thin air. 

Awareness of this fact is one thing, but there are various groups working on banking reform, which is a real possibility with the combined pressure of these groups. One of the more accessible is 'Positive Money' (website link below), who are gradually gaining mainstream exposure and educating the people on this most vital of truths. There is plenty of easy-to-digest- material on this subject, and you will never look at 'money' (or indeed faith) in the same way again.

links:

http://www.michaeljournal.org/myth.htm - the full story in text form with animated colour pictures 

http://vimeo.com/70176604- a humurous video version filmed in New Zealand

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqvKjsIxT_8- the first of a 3-part animated series about money and banking

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQ6hg1oNeGE- an animated story in German with English subtitles

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d3mfkD6Ky5o- 'Positive Money''s edit of the documentary '97% Owned', about the modern money system.

Recommended Podcasts

There are thousands of podcasts and independent, alternative radio shows out there, but the following are a collection of ones that I listen to or have listened to at various times and would recommend. They mainly concentrate on offering alternative information and alternative views of the world to the mainstream media, but others include philosophy, history, films and music. Some are very extreme in their views, certainly relative to what we are generally fed, but all offer interesting views and evidence that encourages further research by the listener rather than automatic acceptance and parrotting.

9/11 Synchronicity

The only podcast on this list not still active as of 2014, this truly epic work of more than 120 hours was put together in 2006-7 by corporate whistleblower Richard Grove and is 'the podcast designed to strike a chord in the public mind and inspire the (American) people to exercise their rights and take meaningful action in the search for the truth behind the events of September 11th 2001. Richard worked in the World Trade Center until Summer 2001, became aware of financial irregularities apparently connected to the 9/11 attacks and set off on a 5-year odyssey of research. However, this podcast is not all about 9/11 but rather an all-encompassing work that looks at how the world is shaped and how it actually is through a monumental array of clips and interviews, as well as Richard's own commentary on his own experiences and on how we can develop our critical thinking skills and start to change the way we view the world. It's nothing if not a journey, and despite some dark subject matter, there are also lighter moments.

Smells Like Human Spirit

Started by Guy Evans in 2012, this podcast is approaching its 200th episode at time of writing and recently moved to a daily format. The views expressed are fairly moderate and are a good introduction to various topics. The change of format has meant shorter podcasts and more of an overview feel rather than deep discussion, and some topics tend to reoccur, such as the shallowness of celebrity culture and the failure and complicity of the mainstream media, but it's still highly recommended. A more detailed review of SLHS can be found on this blog.

Freedomain Radio

Former software entrepreneur and Libertarian Stefan Molyneux has been running this podcast since 2006 and his output is truly prodigious, some might say excessive. He openly admits and discusses an abusive childhood and extensive therapy that appears to have given him great insights into the human condition and the way that the world really works as opposed to the reality that the mainstream feeds the masses. Some of his posts are deeply affecting and profound, and his messages encouraging individuals to examine their lives and raise their children non-coercively are inspiring. On the downside, he tends to disregard any views against the free market, and he also has a call-in show where he offers unqualified advice that tends to be steered towards certain topics that he frequently goes back to, and espouses DeFOOing (leaving one's family of origin if they are not supportive). Highly thought-provoking and some very good interviews.

V Radio

Neil Kiernan, former Ron Paul supporter and now promoter of the Zeitgeist Movement and The Venus Project, runs this podcast and also has a large archive of quality discussions on political matters and other themes about life and the individual. Unlike other podcast hosts, it appears that he really does struggle financially to keep the show going and so really can use donations to help out. He has a relaxed style and an open mind, and advocates TZM and TVP without pushing them aggressively.

The Corbett Report

A former teacher based in Japan, James Corbett has developed a reputation as the voice of reason and a highly informed, informative and refreshingly humble podcast host, interviewer and interviewee. Not much more to add except to highly recommend his extensive output.

WideShut Webcast

Keelan Balderson, host of this podcast, has produced a number of documentaries, including 7/7: What Did They Know?, and is a very informed and reasonable source of information on the London Bombings (as is Tom Secker, with whom Keelan has often discussed the case) as well as covering general news and world agendas. He is one of the younger podcast hosts and offers a youthful but mature perspective.

The Joe Rogan Experience

Joe is well-known in the mainstream but appears to have had some kind of epiphany in the last few years and has become a very thoughtful and informed podcast host. The episodes are long, usually 3-4 hours but have an extremely spontaneous and refreshingly freeform feel to them. Guests often tend to be comedians and/or martial artists (Rogan is an exponent of both of these disciplines) but activistically-inclined politicians and commentators also appear. Rogan is a big advocate of psychedelics for enlightenment, and this is another regular topic of discussion 

London Real

Inspired by Joe Rogan, this podcast is hosted by an American based in London called Brian Rose. There is some guest and content overlap from Rogan's podcast, but London Real is more structured and many episodes, which relate to self and world improvement, leave a feeling of having been enlightened and inspired. it also features on split-screen video format on you tube.

Common Sense with Dan Carlin

Dan Carlin's Hardcore History

Described as an American political commentator and amateur historian, Dan Carlin (no relation to George) is a legend in podcasting. Common Sense takes a very rational look at politics, with a keen journalistic eye on how it is presented versus the reality, and what it all means. Hardcore History is a perfect combination of epic, insightful and accessible. The HH shows are many hours in length, but the events are presented in a way that is fun, informative and really helps you to understand the background to major historical events and what it might have been like to have been there experiencing it. HH is totally essential for everyone interested in history.

The Mind Renewed

Julian Charles is tries to provide an alternative examination of the world through a Christian perspective. His relaxed and calm delivery and rational approach make for extremely accessible listening, and he certainly gives Christianity a good name in his very open explanation and expression of his views and opinions. He has good guests on the show, especially episode 68!!

Truth Jihad Radio

Run by former Massachusetts University professor Kevin Barrett, who was sacked from his job for the heinous crime of introducing alternative theories of 9/11 and planting in his student's heads the idea that the War on Terror might not be entirely genuine, this podcast has some quite extreme views, even for alternative media, but it is certainly thought-provoking, with something of a religious angle since Barrett has converted to Islam. It's quite 9/11 heavy, as Barrett seems to have dedicated himself to uncovering so much information that dismissing a cover-up will be impossible and a clear case of 'wilful denial'.

Democracy Now!

A stalwart of the alternative media while also having mainstream credibility and exposure, Democracy Now!, hosted by journalists Amy Goodman and Juan Gonzalez, is claimed by its website to be 'pioneering the largest public media collaboration in the U.S'. It has regular output and a sense of the now-dying art of genuine investigation. Certainly left-leaning but information is information, especially when well-sourced.

The Gary Null Show

Gary Null is a controversial figure, largely for his criticisms of mainstream medicine. He has a Ph.D in nutrition and has been an author, radio host and documentarian for over 30 years. His shows tend to combine nutrition with politics and he has an effective way of combining the two, in his own dialogue and with the guests he sometimes has on his show

Liberty Tactics

No Fit State

Hosted by Lou Collins and James Britpod, Liberty Tactics is a show closely allied to the UK Column newspaper, which effectively looks at corruption and stories not covered or mishandled in the corporate media. They continue to support Robert Green in the Hollie Greig case despite reasonably compelling evidence that it may be a hoax, but other topics covered are hard to deny and are essential information.

No Fit State was a spin-off podcast which only had 5 editions, all very interesting, but appears to have been discontinued.

The David Seaman Hour

A journalist and former Congressional candidate (not to be confused with the former England international goalkeeper), David Seaman is a recurring guest on Joe Rogan's podcast and is a well-researched and well-informed activist with his finger on the pulse of what's happening in America. He regularly talks to Abby Martin, whose work on her RT show 'Breaking The Set' is also highly recommended.

The Unexplained with Howard Hughes

Liverpudlian Hughes is a media stalwart with an open-mind, who is not afraid to tackle subjects rejected by others. When dealing with non-mainstream, 'extreme' opinions, he tends to play devil's advocate in an effective way, something other podcast hosts should try more often, and lets the information be expressed without interruption and 'ad hominem' tactics.

The Auteur Cast

Movie Geeks United

The Auteur Cast, hosted by Rudie Obias and featuring West Anthony, offers insightful and intelligent critiques and discussions of films of various genres and periods, including series exploring particular filmmakers. They often let the conversation turn to the philosophical, and in West's case, political aspects of the films themselves and the themes explored by them, and they are not afraid  to go on tangents and share relevant personal experiences and information. 

Discover Music Project

Hosted by Jonathan Metts with recurring guest hosts, each episode of this podcast is dedicated to exmaining a well-known group or singer and picking out key songs from them, with discussion of styles, influences and the musical progression of the artist. This podcast, like the 2 film ones, is genuinely fan-made.