Category Archives: bilge

Unctuous drivelling bilge from the UN

The United Nations parasites and their poppycock

In Geneva, Dalrymple is handed a pamphlet with the title 170 Daily Actions to Transform Our World, produced by the so-called Perception Change Project of the United Nations Office at Geneva (UNOG).

On the rear of the pamphlet are the words

The Sustainable Development Goals are humanity’s to-do list for a sustainable planet, a clear roadmap for a better future.

Dalrymple comments:

Are there people in the world who think in words such as these, or who have thoughts that correspond to them? If so, they are much to be commiserated with; it must be an affliction. Compared with UNOG’s totalitarianism, all other totalitarianisms—the totalitarianism of Stalin and his gulag, the totalitarianism of Hitler and his extermination camps, the totalitarianism of Pol Pot and his relocation of city dwellers to the rice paddies—were but local solutions to local problems. According to UNOG, about 6bn human beings have a uniform list of things to do that, presumably, they must all stick with a magnet to the door of their fridge.

To-do list for humanity

Here is one of the 170 things for humanity to do:

Conserve, conserve, conserve. When ice cubes are left over from a drink, don’t throw them away. Put them into plants.

Here another:

Once a month, have a coffee with a person who is different from you, whether in race, beliefs, culture or age.

Dalrymple overfulfils the target:

When it comes to having a coffee with a person who is different from me, I overfulfil practically every day of my life. I have more than one coffee a day with my wife, who is different in gender (as we must now put it), culture, and beliefs from me. I do not wish unduly to boast, but everyone I meet seems to be different from me; in fact, I never meet my clones. And I leave it to readers to decide how easy it is for nomads of the Ogaden to meet their Swiss bankers or some Canadian lumberjacks for their monthly coffee.

Dalrymple asks:

What to do about the unscrupulous hypocrites of UNOG and its Perception Change Project, who imagine that when they are producing this unctuous drivelling bilge they are working rather than parasitising the humanity to whom they give to-do lists?

An eyesore in Lima

screen-shot-2017-01-22-at-08-36-22Dalrymple writes of the æsthetic shambles that is the Universidad de Ingeniería y Tecnología:

The building is awkward, angular, without overall unity; its spaces are mean, narrow, and oppressive and its proportions a mess. And this is all before the concrete, for the moment pristine, begins to deteriorate.

One of the architects, an Irishwoman, says of the atrocity she has perpetrated:

We’re interested in weight. For us, the enjoyment of architecture is the sense of weight being borne down or supported, the feeling of moving with the forces of gravity. It’s a very primal need.

Architect Shelley McNamara: interested in weight

Architect Shelley McNamara: weight problem

Dalrymple comments:

I have noticed that when an artist or architect begins by saying ‘I’m interested in…’ bilge is sure to follow, as the night the day. What does it mean, that the enjoyment of architecture is the sense of weight being borne down or supported? Does anyone see the Taj Mahal for the first time and say, ‘Oh, what a wonderful sense of weight being borne down or supported’?

The problem, he says, is that

the pseudo-cerebrations of architects now take precedence over taste.

screen-shot-2017-01-22-at-09-00-23screen-shot-2017-01-22-at-09-02-28screen-shot-2017-01-22-at-09-03-54

Eloquent bilge

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1785-1859

That is Dalrymple’s verdict on De Quincey’s Confessions, with its

intoxicating style.

He recites a passage:

Oh, just, subtle, and mighty opium! that to the hearts of poor and rich alike, for the wounds that will never heal, and for ‘the pangs that tempt the spirit to rebel’, bringest an assuaging balm; eloquent opium! that with thy potent rhetoric stealest away the purposes of wrath; and to the guilty man for one night givest back the hopes of his youth, and hands washed pure from blood; and to the proud man a brief oblivion for wrongs undress’d and insults unavenged; that summonest to the chancery of dreams, for the triumphs of suffering innocence, false witnesses; and confoundest perjury, and dost reverse the sentences of unrighteous judges; — thou buildest upon the bosom of darkness, out of the fantastic imagery of the brain, cities and temples beyond the art of Phidias and Praxiteles — beyond the splendour of Babylon and Hekatompylos, and ‘from the anarchy of dreaming sleep’ callest into sunny light the faces of long-buried beauties and the blessed household countenances cleansed from the ‘dishonours of the grave’. Thou only givest these gifts to man; and thou hast the keys of Paradise, oh, just, subtle, and mighty opium!