Culture in the crosshairs

 After the World Series will come the World Cup (beginning November 20) and that's when the world will actually take notice.  The short-pants-and-kickball event is always hard for most Americans to care about and this year will be extra demanding, as Qatar imposes North Korea-like restrictions on journalists.  Of course Fox Sports is fine with them but others chafe at not being able to discuss human rights abuses, the conditions of the migrant workers who built the stadium, or anything "offensive to the Qatari culture or Islamic principles."  I guess you can talk about the weather and the concession food.  I may have to forget to tune in.

In London, where free speech is at least tolerated, a couple of morons walked into the National Gallery and glued themselves to the wall after flinging canned soup over Van Gogh's Sunflowers.  This is supposed to deter the government from issuing new oil and gas licenses and make it work harder on fixing the economy and the climate crisis.  Since the Truss government is barely functioning at this point and Van Gogh was not a known proponent of fracking, I'm at a loss to see what was accomplished other than getting them on the news.  (The painting is behind glass but anyone who queued to see it was out of luck.)  The moron with the purple hair needs to ask herself what chemicals she is applying to her head, for a start.

Before you price houses in New Zealand consider that it may not be the earthly paradise.  The government is pulling a $30,000 subsidy for a hugely popular high school Shakespeare festival because it features "a canon of imperialism."  Worse, it does not demonstrate "the relevance to the contemporary art context of Aotearoa in this time and place and landscape."  Not insular enough, in other words, and makes some indigenous students feel bad about themselves.  In other words, Critical Shakespeare Theory.  I don't know, I think there's plenty of room for cultural crossover.  How would you like this to enliven a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream?

Australia next door is the birthplace of Miriam Margolyes, who hasn't lost her edge at 81.  On Britain's Today program she told the presenters what she wanted to say when she encountered this week's Chancellor of the Exchequer Jeremy Hunt:  "Fuck you, bastard."  And this was before he announced more public service cuts and tax hikes.  They hustled her out of the studio but someone saved it to Twitter.  Nothing goes to waste now.

Margolyes could give John Cleese a talking-to.  At 83 he has found a refuge from "cancel culture" at GB News, which I haven't heard but which seems to be the UK's answer to Newsmax -- Fox News with all inhibitions removed.  He's willing to share a platform with anti-vaxers, conspiracy theorists and professional Markle-haters for the sake of -- what, exactly?  I imagine the BBC would let him say whatever is on his mind provided he goes easy on the potty-mouth, which has never been his style anyway.  Why would anyone who cares about his body of work, his legacy, abandon the Times for the Daily Stormer?  I'm at a loss.  

I like to troll YouTube for the comedy stylings of Christopher Hitchens, who would go anywhere for an audience.  I'm not quite desperate enough to listen to him debate the likes of Dinesh D'Souza or various clerics, but the other night I came across a solo performance from 2009 that was eye-opening.  Way back then, you will remember, Hitch and everyone at the Commonwealth Club of California were sure the greatest threat to Our Way of Life was "Islamofascism," and nothing was more important than expunging the regime of Saddam Hussein.  Not once did it occur to anyone that the fascists were already within the gates, affiliated rather with Christianity, and that the threat was considerably more dire than planes aimed at skyscrapers.  What an innocent time.  

Clown-dread is so widespread there's a medical name for it.  Here's why.