a scripture for nine eleven eleven

I always thought this passage uniquely appropriate to the memorial of this day. I’ve emended the translation of KJV below in one significant respect, which afficionados of Biblical philology and seventeenth-century English politics will recognize.

1 Corinthians 13

1 Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.

And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing.

And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not love, it profiteth me nothing.

4   Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,

Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;

Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;

Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

8 Love never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.

For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.

10 But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.

11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

13 And now abideth faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.


Seems the Cameron-Cleggers have moved to end the tradition of squatters’ rights that has long been such a feature of the British urban scene. The end of an era – with roots, I had always thought, way back in Common Law. You could probably sink a cruise ship with the number of creative and free-spirited people who have passed through the squats of London at one time or another. However:

Thirteen years ago, while still a graduate student, I stayed for some days in a squat in Hackney, near London Fields. Friends of a friend. The guy had dropped out of architecture school because he felt the hours were too long. He worked, when he wanted to, whitewashing exhibit spaces at the British Museum. His girlfriend was a primary school teacher. The squat was filthy and fetid. I slept in a room full of garbage. Others in the adjoining houses were photographers with expensive equipment, musicians, etc. They seemed to resent me for not buying them wine. All were white, young, middle-class, and able-bodied. They spent most of their time drinking, smoking dope, planning their next drive to the country, complaining about the “yuppies” who had bought the property behind them and, disgustingly, built a studio in the garden; and deciding which of the local restaurants run by thrifty busy non-white immigrants (Vietnamese, around there, mostly) they would patronize for their next dinner. The ex-architect student, who had one of the plummiest accents I ever heard, was petitioning Hackney council to deed the houses to the group, on the understanding that they would fix them up; for which, he further was petitioning, they should all be paid a “living wage.” With benefits and holiday, I guess.

In short: when I left that place, I also checked out of my own earlier sojourn in North London bohemia (1988-90) – finally, gratefully, and once and for all. I understand and applaud that people want to live their own lives. And there are people who have sunk so low they need a place to land. But that’s why we need sound and rational social programs — not crime. Which is what taking other people’s stuff, without permission and for nothing, is. I’m afraid I can’t shed much of a tear over the legal demise of the Squatter’s Raj.

blessings for Obama

This blog post from a conservative pro-life American mother (who “lost her fear of universal health care” after living for some years in Canada) is one of the most moving, useful, frank, intelligent, honest, uplifting things I have ever read about the strengths of our system, and the paranoias of contemporary American culture. About all she doesn’t say is “God bless President Obama for giving all Americans the opportunity for at least minimal medical coverage.”

an Ernie a day

I see in the paper today that Vic Toews is now taking credit for the low crime rate, even though it was steadily lowering long before he started getting all “tough on crime” in the pokerfacedly moronic, US Republican, fucking-pigs-cause-its-what-we-do kind of way. It’s Ernie logic, as in the classic Sesame Street exchange:

BERT. Ernie, why do eat so many apples?

ERNIE. To keep the tigers away, Bert.

BERT. But Ernie, there isn’t a tiger within 50 miles of here!

ERNIE. See? It works!

I wonder how much longer Harper will keep that idiot around.

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