101 Things #68 - Downhill in Anger

I'm all in favour of a degree of robustness in sport. A football player does not politely ask of an opponent if he would be kind enough to surrender possession of the ball - he barges into him, skilfully trips him up and is appealing to the ref that he was the one fouled even as the other player begins rolling over in agony.

Equally, it is accepted that, just as the fast bowler begins his run up, the batsman awaiting a 95mph delivery might cast an aspersion on his parentage and mental ability.

I do not see how this sort of attitude can possibly extend itself to individuals enjoying themselves on ski slopes, where courtesy and respect for the movement of others is important in maintaining safety. Thumping into someone else when you are both hurtling down La Chavanette is asking for a broken leg and a lawsuit. I was therefore bemused to find that a recommendation for one's bucket-list of achievements worth savouring, from the website Esquire, was to

Toboggan, aggressively

and I am very happy to include this in the fast-maturing compilation of 101 Things I Refuse To Do Before I Die, a friendly compendium of achievements that hold not a smidgeon of interest.

I did a wee bit of tobogganing in my reckless youth, just enough to know that the effort in slogging up a slope in order to sit in a little tin can and plummet down again was barely worth it. Also that control of the toboggan was limited to tugging on a bit of rope. It was supposed to be the steering (or the brake, or the rudder or something) and did nothing at all. One went in one direction, downwards, until either overturning in a snow drift or stopping with a jolt when the ski slope turned into a car park.

Thus it is clear that "aggressive tobogganing" must be something like this "Oy, you! fatty, yes, you with the silly red pom-pom hat. Why don't you get your stupid great arse and your pathetic tin bucket out of my face and leave the slopes to the grown-ups, alright?"

Is that aggressive enough? I don't think I would care to try this, except perhaps on an elderly lady who had to be helped down off the ski-lift. I value my teeth. On second thoughts, as I also value my dignity and my reputation, this is one form of physical endeavour I shall happily eschew.

101 Things #67 - Saying It Like It Is

A little while ago I added to my popular index for cultural refuseniks, 101 Things I Refuse To Do Before I Die, some disparaging words about the ghastly phrase "End of". Today another verbal irritation is under the spotlight as I determine to avoid, at all costs, to

Use the phrase "Just saying".

You see this little horror on discussion boards such as Facebook. Here is a real example, edited to preserve anonymity

Bad car collision on the way to [place redacted], wouldn’t be surprised if they close the road, just saying

Yes, I wouldn't have been surprised either if that particular road was closed, it is standard practice after a bad collision to close the road and ensure any evidence is collected. What extra was imparted by the "just saying"? Is the contributor trying to distance themselves from the collision?

"No it wasn't me, honest, I was walking past the jewellers at the time carrying half a brick and yes, the window did get smashed, but it was a pure coincidence. Just saying"

It does seem to establish some sort of moral superiority over anyone else who makes a comment. You might have seen the collision, perhaps were involved in it or maybe you are one of the council workers called out to clean up, but the person who reported it is entirely above such considerations. They are "just saying" that it happened.

There is a certain nasty similarity with "end of". It shuts down discussion in a passive-aggressive way. "Nothing to do with me. I'm just saying it, that's all." It is at once humble - "I'm only saying it, you know, just expressing my opinion" and arrogant "You can't tell me I'm wrong, I'm just saying it" and therefore irritates in two ways at once.

In fact, it is irritating in a third way. It adds nothing whatsoever to whatever it is appended to. You can remove it without changing an iota of the sense. It is as helpful as going "erm" before saying anything but at least the erm tells you that the speaker is readying themselves. "Just saying" always gets stuck on the end when the speaker has already made their point. In some circumstances it is akin to telling the other people in the dialogue that they have wasted their time in paying any attention to the speaker, a little bit like adding "just my little joke" or "pardon my French" after you say something that might be offensive.

I have pondered for some time on some witty response that could be employed on social media to counteract the menace without success. If any of my readers can come up with something devastating that would leave the just sayers reeling with shame I would be most grateful to learn about it.

101 Things #66 - The Benefit of Clergy

It's a lovely day today. I have no household duties and commuting is no longer a daily necessity. Mrs C. has decided to take herself off to the National Gallery, as is her wont, but the exhibition she intends to visit is not one that grips my attention. I decide to have a look at what others feel is worthy of their time, the items that go on their bucket-lists, and see if I can conquer my natural cynicism and do one myself.

What shall it be? Yes, of course, the one that all aspirants to a lifetime of achievement will treasure and fondly remember years later. I shall become a Man of God.

Mind you, having stated it as baldly as that, it does feel somewhat uncomfortable. In fact, now I come to think about it, it seems utterly wrong, ludicrous and risible. I shall explain why this notion is worthy of never being achieved and that it truly belongs in my anti bucket-list set 101 Things I Refuse To Do Before I Die and consequently why I shall defy the recommendation from Bucket List Journey to

Get Ordained

There is a certain social cachet in being a signed-up religious professional, no doubt. At any street accident, one can push through the gaping crowds with the helpful cry "Let me through, I am here to save this man's soul" and then, when the press arrive, it will be your beaming face that makes it to the front page. You will be given first choice of the chocolate biscuits at social gatherings. You can wear long flowing robes, affect a thick bushy beard (sorry, not for the ladies) and smile benignly at passers-by. People will ask for your advice and benedictions. They may even wish to confess their sins - and who knows what you may learn as a result.

How does one go about becoming ordained? To the dedicated bucket-lister, no problem at all. One finds an appropriate internet vendor and purchases a certificate. For example, you can join the Universal Life Church, hand over $29.99 and look what you receive in return:

• Ordination Credential (Minister License)
• 1 ULC Wallet License
• 1 Black Clergy Badge
• 1 Parking Hanger
• 1 Minister Window Cling
• 1 Press Pass-Parking Placard
• 1 ULC Bumper Sticker with symbols
• 1 Minister Bumper Sticker

Not only a certificate to hang on the wall and a mini version for the wallet but free parking. This alone must justify your seeking out your calling in this way. You can park anywhere you like - on a double yellow outside the supermarket, say, - and when the wardens come round you merely indicate the hanger or placard or bumper sticker, accept their stammered apologies and make some sort of sign over them¹ before driving off leaving them still kneeling on the pavement.

But why pay anything at all? Here's a certificate that looks totally believable which I knocked out in my shed, with a little help from this site and it didn't cost me a bean.

 Rather spiffing, no? I could therefore tick off this one from my bucket-list, if it were ever on it in the first place. And that is the reason why this form of 'ordination' is utterly without worth. You can have all the fancy certificates, parking hangers (what is that, I wonder) and bumper stickers you like, you can declare yourself to be a Cardinal, an anti-Pope, a Grand Enlightened Master of Solomon, a Chief Rabbit or High Priest & Archimandrite of Great Cthulhu, perhaps all of them at once if you have a really large certificate, but it means nothing.

Of course our friends at Bucket List Journey might have meant a real ordination - spending years studying the religion of your choice, learning ancient languages, writing scholarly essays on abstruse matters of theology, debating weighty matters of morality with your peers and working at a congregation, school or mission, before finally you receive an affirmation of your elevation to the ranks of the confirmed clergy at a ceremony in front of your fellow worshippers. Somehow, given the dedication and work that is required, not to mention some sort of suitability for this role in the first place, I don't think so. I think they had in mind the strange laws of the United States of America by which anyone can call themselves a minister of religion and thereby solemnise marriages and the like. All you really need is a certificate and people have to call you 'Reverend' - by law! Isn't it fantastic? Yes, it is. Is is worthy of our respect? No.


Footnote
1. I know the sort of sign you are thinking of and you disgust me. Put your thought to higher things.

-&-&-&-&-

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101 Things #65 - Going for Broke

As you may know, if you've glanced over this column in recent months, I have been building up a register of activities, aspirations and achievements [Nice alliteration: Ed], all of which I utterly refuse to attempt or even to contemplate undertaking. I shall stop when I have reached 101 of them and for this reason it is named 101 Things I Refuse To Do Before I Die.

Usually I link the topic to a single website that is promoting it but there is a bonus today because I have cunningly merged suggestions from two bucket-list proponents - Aussie on the Road and Life Listed. One thinks that playing the casino in Las Vegas is a good idea, the other plumps for Monaco. It doesn't matter. I am not going to

Gamble in a casino (no matter how glamorous the setting).

First a true story. Many years ago, young and fairly strapped for cash, I crossed America on a camping trip with a small group. Our route took us through Reno in Nevada; like Las Vegas, a town dominated by gambling. We visited a casino. I decided to risk $1 on a likely looking machine. It took dimes so I exchanged my note for coins and placed one in and pulled the lever. The dials spun and I lost. I tried again. And again. And repeated until the whole lot, my entire stash of dimes, had gone.

 I know how, in popular literature, a gentleman behaves having incurred financial ruin at a casino. He smiles, orders drinks all round, gives the croupier a tip and saunters out, hat at a jaunty angle, to contemplate the waves crashing on the rocks below. But I am not that sort of gentleman. I knew in my aching heart that I would never see that dollar again. Aware of the cameras, I did not commit any acts of violence or make obscene gestures. My face a mask, I determined that I would henceforth never gamble in a casino again and I never have.

There is no reason not to enjoy visiting the great hotel complexes of Vegas or the elegant surroundings of Monte Carlo. What rankles is the idea that gambling in a casino is worthwhile. The machines are exactly the same wherever you are so, if you like losing cash, why not go to your local pub and play the slot machine there? You will lose wherever you play but you will spend a lot less on the journey and the accommodation. Should you have some skill at card games, particularly poker, your trip may be more profitable but, if that is the case, you don't need this one on your bucket-list because you will already be doing it. As for roulette and all the "systems" that are supposed to help you beat the house, consider that if any of them really worked, then the casinos would cease to be in business.

Forget about the glamour of the casinos. They are designed for one purpose and it is not a pleasant one. Watching ranks of dead-eyed gamblers mechanically jabbing at buttons while lights flash and sound effects blare out is only of interest to social psychologists. You may deal me out.

101 Things #64 - Name That Star

It is the morning of your 110th birthday. The King¹ sends a telegram. The staff in your nursing home bake a special cake. A fresh-faced reporter from the local paper comes to see you.
"Tell me" she asks eagerly "What was your greatest achievement?"
"Well, young lady" you say, as the wonderful memories flood back "They named a star after me, you know"
"Wow. A whole star? Fantastic. What did you do to deserve that?"
"Ermm ... I paid for it on the internet and received a certificate"
"Ah" says the crestfallen reporter "Been so nice meeting you but I've just heard that a dustbin has blown over in a freak 8 mph wind so I have to be off"

And this, dear reader, is why the notion posited by a contributor to Pinterest that one should

Have a star named after you

goes smoothly and without regret into my anti-bucket list compendium
101 Things I Refuse To Do Before I Die.

Stars are named by international convention. They are not named after people, apart from rare exceptions such as Barnard's star. You cannot simply point to a glittering dot in the sky and say "That one, that one there, it shall be forever known as Zelda Potrezebie III".

What you can do is to pay to have your name recorded on a list and to receive a few bits of rubbish to display on your shelves. The list is one kept by the vendors, there is no meaning to it at all and as anyone can start a list of stars and sell them, there can be any number of people all thinking that the same star bears their name. It is a con to which the old fashioned hucksters who used to sell London Bridge to unsuspecting tourists would doff their hats in respect.

Here, just for example, is the blurb on the World Star Register website if you select, not just any old star, but a supernova (you will note, in passing, that they don't understand the difference between a star and a constellation)

Name one of the brightest stars in the sky, a Supernova star. You can choose a constellation or allow us to select one for you. Included with your lovely presentation box will be a 20mm Swarovski® Star crystal, the Swarovski® star has a hole size of 1.4mm so can be worn on a thin necklace, or hung as a pendant near to a window.
Your star name and its coordinates will be entered into the World Star Register™ for eternity, and available to locate anytime via our online database, with a physical copy published in the British library.²
You'll also receive all the required information to locate your supernova star in the night sky, and your gift will arrive packaged in a presentation gift box to keep all your documents safe.
.....
Rated 5.00 out of 5 based on 1 customer rating (1 customer review) 

Your crystal and pendant and other tat will cost you a mere £129 in this case.

I love that glowing rating, based on a massive customer response of one whole vote, but the silliest bit is "Your star name will be entered into the World Star Register for eternity". Eternity? Not just a rather long time but for all time and beyond, an infinite amount of time. I wonder how they can be so sure.

Whatever they may mean, as it is pretty unlikely that this business and its register will be around in thirty years (based on normal small business life-cycles), and absolutely certain it will not be trading on Earth in about 3 billion years when the sun swells to become a red giant, I think we can cheerfully dismiss this claim as garbage however tongue-in-cheek they may claim it to be.

 It is a bit of fun, of course, to have a glossy certificate and a presentation album and some crystals and things. But you do not end up with a supernova, or an ordinary star, named after you in any meaningful sense. And to have this as a bucket-list achievement fails on two counts - it doesn't work and it merely involves sending some money off. There is nothing to feel good about and, as our little vignette at the head of this column suggests, bugger-all to be proud about  and that is why I steadfastly refuse to do it.

 -&-&-&-&-

 Readers: Forget all this nonsense about having a star named after you. That is so 2018! Impress your friends by having an entire GALAXY in your name. Yes, a swirling mass of up to 400 billion stars*, plus huge amounts of dust, dark matter and possibly advanced alien civilizations, will bear your name not only to the end of time in this universe but in all other universes that may come after. Simply pick one of the galaxies shown in this photo (and every dot is a galaxy) and send us your chosen name and just £493.

Pic: ScienceMag.org

Terms and conditions apply for most of the rest of eternity and, for just £150 extra, can be sent to you in a presentation album bound in genuine faux-Morocco with a red tassel on the outside and a certificate that shows you alone are the owner of that particular copy of the T&Cs.

* No refunds can be made should your selection be of a dwarf galaxy with only a lousy few million stars.


Footnotes:
1. Surely Her Majesty's long and distinguished reign will have terminated by then
2. The British Library receives by law a copy of all books published in the UK. This is not in any way a sign of official approval.