Monday, June 10, 2013

The World Ends when you Die


 
(Picture Credit - Apollo 17, NASA)
 

I have to come back to this again. You do not need a Mayan Calendar to tell you when the world will end. The world ends when you die. 

Am I a bit depressed this week? Maybe. I cannot help myself returning to this thought. You do not need a Mayan Calendar to say when the world will end. It’s simple. The world will end when you die.

I know this is a horrible thought. That unthinkable shooting incident in Connecticut makes me feel this way. Yet when you go you are no longer here to experience the world in any way. To all intends and purposes when you die there is no more world, USA, England, sunshine, weather... Nothing. Just nothing. The Universe might as well have not existed in the first place. All gone. We are but crumbling flowers or leaves.

The only hope is that magically we are something spiritual. Magic is about the right word. We must hope that we are more than our material bodies. That we have a spiritual soul.

I hope to live forever. Most religions offer such. I get the impression that Christians are somewhat suspicious of Spiritualists. They warn against using Ouija Boards, for example.

Over hundreds and thousands of years we moved from believing in a “pantheon” of Gods (Greek, Roman etc.) to worshipping “One True God”. Actually my instincts tell me that there may be one true race of Gods, but that’s mere detail.

I am not bothered about any god. All that matters to me is what happens to me and you. If that’s an immature attitude, tough. Immortality Please. Let’s Hope.

 Paul Butters

Friday, July 20, 2012

Lennox The Dog: A Sad Tale



(Picture is of Lennox as a puppy, from Examiner)

This is the story of Lennox, a well-behaved, loving therapy dog who was seized from his home two years ago, by Belfast City Council. That was the last time his owners, including a Special Needs girl, saw him as he was put on Death Row for looking like a Pit Bull Dog.

I first encountered the “Save Lennox” campaign a few weeks ago on Facebook. The Lennox story was all over Facebook, Twitter and the Worldwide Web. Yet I never saw it mentioned on TV for some unknown reason. Naivety prevents me there.

Poor Lennox was then existing in a dark, concrete cell, lying on sawdust, surrounded by his own excrement. It was reported that he had developed sores and other ills. He was deprived of the human company he loved.

Two years or so ago things were so different. Lennox was a therapy dog for a “disabled” girl. She later said she wanted him back for Christmas, as he was, “My bestest friend in the whole world.” His loving family registered him, had him micro chipped, DNA registered, and various other official safeguards. Being unsure how he might react to strangers, they had a high wall built around their garden, and kept him muzzled and on a lead when out.

Lennox was half Labrador (most gentle of breeds) and Mexican Bulldog. These are not on the BSL Dangerous Dogs list. He did slightly resemble a Pit Bull (listed as dangerous) however. BSL here is not the wonderful “British Sign Language”: rather it is “Breed Specific Legislation” – notably to get rid of dangerous dogs. Opponents of BSL simply say, “Deed not Breed”.

Everything went wrong 2 years ago when wardens of BCC (Belfast City Council) apparently went to the wrong address, following up a report, but ended up taking Lennox away. BCC claim that some male at the house said, “If you try to touch him he’ll rip your throat out.” If that guy did say that, he must have regretted it ever since. BCC condemned Lennox to death on the grounds he resembled a Pit Bull dog.

To cut a long tale short the family went to court three times to try to free Lennox. It is said that their second appearance occurred after making an Appeal against the first court decision, and the same judge turned up to decide the outcome. Their third appearance was at the highest level in Northern Ireland.

A senior politician, a TV Dog Expert, expert Dog Assessors and even celebrities got involved in this case. A few weeks back the family reluctantly gave up on the legal route. Offers were made by dog experts to re-home Lennox in Ireland or America (in a special sanctuary).

BCC stuck to their argument that their dog expert found Lennox dangerously unpredictable. Their wardens supported this view. His “measurements” matched those of a Pit Bull so...

Recently the “Save Lennox” campaign hit fever pitch. There were street protests around the world. Unfortunately death threats were made to BCC workers, and booby trapped letters posted etc. On the other hand it was reported that people who telephoned BCC to complain were laughed at and were met with animal noises. When that special needs girl rang them for news, they slammed the phone down on her.

Pro-Lennox dog experts questioned the credentials of the BCC dog expert. Photographs were leaked of a BCC warden allowing Lennox to lick her. This week a video showed an expert testing the dog for aggressive behaviour: he was teased and slapped and stood over, but did not react. (Such tests can be more severe than this, apparently, but surely if Lennox was dangerous...).

Last Wednesday BCC announced that they had had Lennox PTS (put to sleep) by humane injection. They refused to let the family say goodbye first. BCC also refused to send his body back to the family, or even his collar, and said they would send ashes in the mail. No need for me to describe the reaction from around the world.

“Save Lennox” are now concentrating on getting those BSL laws changed. They want to avoid another Lennox. Right now there is a similar “Save Ivan” campaign for a dog in England. Another dog on Death Row now. Actually there was a case like this in the 1990s: a dog in London. Apparently he licked the face of his executioner...

Paul Butters

Tags:      Save Lennox, Lennox the dog, BCC, BSL, Dogs on Death Row, Pit Bull Dogs, Dogs Put To Sleep

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Love This

This is by FB Troublemakers. On Facebook, naturally. Love It.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

My Writing.

(a blog, Yorkshire, 29\7\2010, 16.00 – 20.20).

I see myself as a “closet” writer. People say that I am blessed with talent. I do indeed seem to have a wealth of imagination and a happy knack with words. Although I only have a smattering of French, I often answer quiz questions by spotting roots etc. I’m “lexic” and a dreamer for sure.

Someone recently pointed out that to be “published”; all you need to do is post your work on line for all to see. That’s true, and rather comforting. Yet it’s one thing to be “posted” and quite another to be “read” by many, highly rated or famous, or well paid.

I’ve posted 119 poems on the “Poemhunter” and received some nice comments. In fact I’ve posted most of the poems I’ve written. Unfortunately there are no statistics on the total views for each poem. I have also posted on “Voicesnet”, “Neopoet”, “Triond”, “Poetry and Friends” etc.
Neopoet are currently offline, but Voicesnet provide statistics on my total “hits”. For the record some of my most popular (viewed) pieces are:

“Champion” (poem) 4314 (is this correct?), “Territorial Animals” (blog), “The Meerkat Empire” (story) 300, “Man U Script” (joke poem) 575, “Seashore” (poem) 536, “Nothing Lasts” (poem) 243, “Humber Connexions RIP” (poem) 157, “Twin Warning” (poem) 133, “For Ever” and “Vista” (both poems) 121 each. Actually I have singled out poems mainly here, to compare like with like. I have some other well-viewed blogs, stories etc. too. “Well-viewed” for my stuff, that is.

As for money, well I once “received” £5 from “Forward Press” for a poem but they donated it to an animal charity. Meanwhile, over the past year or so I have “earned” the princely sum of 35 cents from “Triond”!

Actually I first started writing “compositions”, as they then called them, when I was an eight year old junior scholar. One teacher described my stories as “imaginative” and “colourful” amongst other things. At about nine I wrote a space story opening, “Five, four, three... Lift Off!” I vaguely remember writing stories about a “gladiator”, and “The Loch Ness” monster. Unfortunately the exercise books containing these gems vanished many years ago.

My first “published” piece was the non-fiction “Holiday On a Smallholding” in “Cadmus”, the “Cow Close County Secondary School” (later “Farnley High”) magazine. That was in my first year there, when I was about eleven. In my fourth year (now known as Year Ten) I had my first story published, again in “Cadmus”, entitled “Tramp”. (Around that time I had my only drawing published (in Cadmus again) called “Bikes”. Around this time I compiled numerous short stories, firstly football, then space, in my old exercise books and finally some loose-leaf folders. To be honest I achieved the “number” but not the quality!

From about sixteen I tried to write poems but struggled hopelessly with the technicalities. It was only when my English teachers at West Leeds Boys’ High Sixth Form explained about iambic metre, metaphor, assonance etc. that I started to produce anything acceptable. The first stanza of my poem “The Sea” (later reworked as “Seashore”) was published in the school magazine.

From 1970 to 1980 I achieved a third class Honours B. Ed. English Literature Degree at the now Huddersfield University (then under Leeds University) and spent six years teaching the then 16+ Qualification (later GCSE) English in a South Yorkshire 13-18 Comprehensive. Frankly, I hated teaching. I was left with no time for writing I’m afraid. No. That’s not true. I wrote endless journals, diaries and so forth. Yet nothing was published in any shape or form, until 1996!

In November 1995 I saw an advertisement in “Grimsby Target” (in a “The Phoenix” Chinese Takeaway, Cleethorpes) for poems required for a new anthology. I submitted my poem “Her Eyes” (amongst others), which was published in “Inspirations from Eastern England” (Anchor Books, Forward Press). Encouraged by this, I had a few poems, plus a story (“Power”), published with Forward Press, Penhaligon Page, “The Poetry Guild”, “Poetry in Print” (formerly “PIBI”), “The International Library of Poetry” etc. Later I was told that at least one of these is a “vanity publisher”: another lesson! (To be fair, real vanity publishing involves paying hundreds or thousands to have your novel in print...).

The highlight of this “phase” was when I had 15 poems published together called “A Storm of Perceptions” (1997 – Forward Press). My last poem published in print was “Poem” in “Poetry Now” magazine (1999 Forward Press).

During December 2000 I posted my poem “Liverpool” onto “poetry.com”, which I later discovered to be run by “International Poetry Library” (above). “Liverpool” has since vanished and “poetry.com” has become “Lulu.com” under new ownership. My first “permanent” posting was poem “Earth” onto Poemhunter (7th January 2007). The rest is history as they say.

“Neopoet” remains offline tonight (unusually). The conclusion to this story? Not sure really. Will just mention that I’ve entered the odd short story competition and reached the last few hundred or so, to be offered a “writing course”. Generally I’ve shied away from competitions to be honest. The notion of “competing” in a personal activity like creative writing seems abhorrent to me. I am happy to keep writing, or rather typing (!) and posting, for now.

Paul Butters

Just What Am I?

“What am I?” (A Blog) Yorkshire. Thursday, 29th July 2010.

13.50. (From my Confidential Journal). Not making many entries here these days. Good...

... Been reflecting. In my late teens and early twenties I became “The Silent One.” All because of a casual remark, “You’re quiet tonight Paul!” Yet at around the same time Edwin Wildman “read” my handwriting and found me to be, “An Introverted Extrovert.” As regards being “Quiet”, like Brian Wilson I could rightly have said, “That’s not me!” For it wasn’t me. Once I went to Cleethorpes I became pretty “normal” really. I never became an outrageous Extrovert, but at least I spent most of my time “out of my shell”.

So just what am I then? Frankly I don’t know. Do I have to have a label? Does it matter? I’d like to think I’m an “Ambivert”. However, that would imply I usually operate appropriately as an Introvert, Extrovert or whatever. Probably nobody can claim to be flawless in that respect. We’ve all acted too silly in public or failed to speak up at the right time.

Of the two extremes, Introversion seems easier because it takes no effort. Just keep your mouth shut, your head down and daydream. Seeing as I’m reflecting, I would say that overall I’ve tended to behave more as an Introvert. I tend to keep myself to myself and write. Like I’m doing now. Am prepared to blog openly on this later or even share these very words.

To be self-critical, I strongly suspect that more Extroversion on my part would do more good. Perhaps I could take more interest in what others are doing and saying. Might even learn something. And that can’t be bad. Well, overall. Could Listen better, if I’m honest. Read more too. Not to neglect myself or my “projects” of course. It’s all a matter of balance. Nuff Said. Out.

Paul Butters

Monday, July 26, 2010

King Arthur and the Police.

Yorkshire. Monday 26th July, 2010. 10.40. Yesterday I saw an interesting telly documentary about King Arthur. Most people believe that his home fortress, called Camelot, was located somewhere near Cornwall. The Welsh, of course, insist he lived in Wales. There is a further belief, by the way, that if Britain is ever in dire trouble from invasion or whatever, the mountains will open up and Arthur and his knights will emerge to save us.

However, according to that programme, recent scientific investigation suggests Camelot was in... Chester! Their argument is that Chester was in fact one of the larger Roman city forts having a great “coliseum” in the centre. That coliseum is said to have inspired the legend of the “round table”. Arthur was a British Christian who fought twelve major battles against the invading Saxons. He fought at locations ranging from Scotland to West Wales and Cornwall. Apparently Arthur won his final battle, but after he’d gone, the Saxons eventually took all of England and pushed most of the British resistance into Wales.

I think this is a most convincing account of events. They say that history is written by the victors and “spun” accordingly. Little wonder that those Southerners would claim Arthur as their own! I think he were a Yorkshireman lol, who settled for a base in Cheshire. Seriously though, Arthur could indeed have been a Northerner. However, famous Northerners such as Richard The Third and those who supported Cromwell for example got very bad press. I rest my case.

Changing the subject: over the weekend I found myself driving Mum down from Baildon Moor into the outskirts of Bingley. Just before I reached a cattle grid, an elderly gentleman driving up from Bingley waved me down. Yes, I thought, better go slow over this grid. But no. As I turned a corner I was confronted by two police ladies, one aiming a big camera at me. I glanced left. A thirty sign. At my dashboard: about twenty three. Phew! Then again I would not be surprised if I receive a speeding ticket and loss of licence points. All the subsequent signs said twenty. Did I misread that first sign? We’ll see.

At a time when the government are threatening big cuts to police personnel, were they out chasing dangerous criminals and terrorists? No, these ladies were hiding behind an obscure country-road corner, harassing decent motorists to fill the police coffers. Again I rest my case. Enough for now.
Paul Butters

Well Chuffed!

Review of “Frenetic Genetics” on “mstliteracy” website (found 26\7\10):
a “wiki” by Biology (and other) teachers of California Education Dept .

“Frenetic Genetics
Poem written by Paul Butters
Posted by: Dianna Gregg

Genetic engineering’s here to stay
Possibilities are endless, scientists say:
Men mixed with anything we can find:
Oak trees, wasps, ants and elephants combined.
Satanic horror armies sweep their enemies away
And Frankenstein’s monster’s little but child’s play
Compared with this lot.
Yet with Good intent,
And wisdom heaven sent,
Utopia or Paradise could be on its way:
Bumper bug-free harvests every day,Giant fruit and docile, friendly beasts.
Food for all, and endless feasts.
All manner ofGoodOr EvilIs withinOur grasp.
It’s down to us.

Text Source: This poem can be found at the following link:http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/frenetic-genetics/
Summary: Just a short poem about genetic engineering

Favorite Part: “All manner of good or evil is within our grasp”. I don’t claim that this poem is great literature or anything, but it is pretty thought provoking.Connection to Instruction: I would use as a means to encourage discussion about the potential benefits and risks associated with genetic engineering.

Use of Literacy Strategies: I would use this as a pre-reading piece to introduce the topic of genetic engineering.”

(PB – I take it Dianna is an American\Californian Biology teacher. I personally don’t claim it’s “great” either, though maybe “good”. Am dealing with thoughts rather than beauty here. Chuffed to think it may be used in lessons, Biology or otherwise).

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Serenity.


PREFACE.
The following story is written, or rather typed, in a mixture of Free Verse and prose. The author has allowed himself a fair amount of “poetic licence”. Dialogue is typed in the author’s own format, rather like a play or script. Grammatical “liberties” are taken. Most of what follows is loosely autobiographical, with any “gaps” filled in by the author’s imagination. Enjoy.

CHAPTER ONE: SCHOOL DAYS.

Mankind has long since conquered Space.
Well, at least half our local group of galaxies.
Hundreds of years ago.
The other half is mainly occupied by the “Slykon”:
An alien race that makes the ancient fictional “Daleks” and “Borg” look like fluffy kittens by comparison.
We remain at war with them, as we have been for generations, in one of the longest stalemates on record.

****************************************************************

Mother and son sit nervously in the school foyer. The boy is called Paul White and he is three years old. He is about to meet his first teacher, Ms Night. Both son and mum are natives of the terraformed planet known as Serenity. A world located in a relatively minor galaxy of our local cluster of galaxies.

Serenity was terraformed, i.e. artificially made earthlike three hundred or so years ago. Indeed the year right now is 312 AS – the AS standing for “Anno Serenity”. Frankly this planet is one of the most boring in the universe. The terrain is mostly flat and the weather is mainly temperate but drizzly. The terraforming companies have achieved some startling successes over the years, creating some lovely paradise-worlds, but sadly Serenity is not one of them. Not much else to say about the place really.

Paul, his parents and his one year old brother Dave live together out on an arable farm, about forty old-Earth miles from Metrolee, a city of about 300,000 individuals. Mum has dragged him to the nearest school today. Unfortunately he has missed the start of term as the family have been offworld, on a fishing trip.
Ms Night appears, a little flustered.
Ms Night: “Oh no, not another boy!”
She does go on to introduce herself, but as they say, first impressions last! So Paul joins Ms Night’s class.

****************************************************************

A short while later Paul is with his classmates, each one of them sitting at an old-fashioned computer station. Straight away Paul boots up his allotted PC and accesses his home page. He scans all the material in front of him.
Paul (thinks, brightly): “Oh, I get it. She wants us to personalise our home pages, starting with our names at the top.”
Promptly he starts to type in his name. (Infants are very advanced these days)!
Suddenly his whole body is jolted by an electric shock! Ms Night has employed the “social harmony” device that every teacher now possesses. There she is, standing scowling over him.
Ms Night: “I did not tell you to touch that computer!”
Paul just turns in fury and thumps her on the knee!
So much for showing initiative, if not brightness.
And so ends Lesson One.

****************************************************************
End sample.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Perfection.


As I just said to someone: "Perfection" may actually mean very little. Soon I will "perfectly" leave this website with almost no effort. We have to dream, strive for higher things and make our mistakes on the road to worthwhile Achievement. Aim higher. And higher. Not Merely be a "perfectionist". Point made.

Creative Writing.


(Long Lee. Mon. 10\11\08. 11.20). It might be about a year since I worked on my “best seller” – “Uniscape”. Have just checked: it is! Not to worry. Do I really need to write a best seller? Having taken early retirement (through ill health) I now have a pension of just over £10,000 per year. Do not need any funds from best sellers to support me. May write whatever I like. Without wishing to be arrogant, “getting published” is not the be all and end all of writing. From what I’ve seen of published literature, publication as such is only a minor endorsement at best. When I see authors getting published just because they are celebrities or for other dubious reasons, it almost makes my blood boil. I might as well self publish indeed.

Yet what to write about. That is the question. Sci Fi is really just my canvass. For what though? Maybe for me it’s all about Being Human. Existence. Religion. About exploring and asking questions. In many ways I am Mr. Average. Other ways I am not. My journey through life has been very typical, yet also unique. My “Paul White” idea looks relevant.

When I say “Mr Average” I of course refer to being male, heterosexual, white, middle to working class, ex professional, and so on. In fact I belong to many groups that have been favoured over the ages. I live in a relatively rich country too. My ethnic background is rather vague actually: but still good old Anglo-Saxon. I cannot honestly write from experience about being downtrodden etc. Only that my Mum’s ancestors were Huguenots. And my dad’s lot were “boat people”. For real angst you have to read the work of black female lesbian disabled ex slaves!

So what’s unique about me? That would be telling! I am of just above average intelligence and very lexic. Good at the arts and humanities but also at some of the sciences. Bad at woodwork, number, practical and mechanical\technical things. Sometimes useful with people, at other times inept. Still single.... Hints of autism it has been said. Lover of music. Frustrated at not being a father etc. Not one for Relationships yet fundamentally Caring. In some ways rather complex: that’s where it could get interesting. Nuff Said Fer Now. Out.