The Male Feminist pt2

Right so, where were we?

I began this thing with notions and prejudice. My notion was: "that Marston fella who invented Wonderwoman is constantly referred to as a feminist*, - I doubt it! (says Croker) - I'll just pop a couple of juicy facts down here and look up a couple more, and then we'll see how feminist he is!" a foolproof plan, which, like many the foolproof plan before it completely underestimates the ingenuity of fools.

Being neither a social scientist nor a true aficionado of DC comics in the post-war era; it turns out that there's a lot I don't know, and some of the stuff I do know and had wanted to talk about I don't really want to talk about any more, as it turns out.

Big Eeejit.

Anyway, by way of illustration I set before you an illustration: The last post began with a black and white photograph featuring Marston and Olive among others and so it is today. Observe:



Now I know it's only a photograph, and that the most hideous domestic situations are never revealed in the eternally smiling holiday snaps but something about this photos general wholesomeness puts me right off commenting on William Marston's home life.

It makes me feel frankly that it's none of my business. There was one sketchy report from a friend of his describing it as a patriarchal set-up but that hardly means anything, I mean; what does a visitor ever know? Upon reflection, I can't actually draw from his polygamy that he was a feminist or he wasn't a feminist, and as a blog commentator has so kindly pointed out, I have yet to even define feminist so I suppose that I should simply slap my forehead now and say, "Umm..Err.. I don't know what I'm talking about and it's none of my business anyway...".

But I'm not really smart enough for that folks.

Rather than commenting too much on several peoples' private lives, or attempting to define feminism, I think a wiser tactic might be to see what there is to support my original prejudice that a male feminist is, in some sense, a phoney.

There's a fantastic piece of phonyism in the 1941 article of 'Family Circle' where he's interviewed by Olive on the subject of the Wonderwoman comic and the doctrine of female supremacy which I have to link here and I strongly recommend reading as a delightful bit of hocum. The theories he propounds are not in spirit anyway different from the quotes in yesterdays blog, but what reads so strangely in the light of what we actually know of their relationship, is the fiction invented to give context to the article.



Our intrepid female reporter, comes back from a friends house. The friend has been widowed by recent events in Pearl Harbor, and is weary of all this talk of war, when she spots a comic-book on the table, and is suddenly inspired to visit her avuncular friend; the source of the comic-book heroine and a sage for her troubled mind.

She finds him, in his office of course, reading the exact same issue she noticed at home on the table: and then it's pretty much Harry Potter in Dumbledore's Study from there but instead of 'a scar', it's Olives' femininity which has marked her out for greatness. She remains incredulous and signs off in a tone that's more wistful than inspired as a result of her encounter with this delightful old dreamer.

Phony? check. Baloney? with extra slices, but to be fair it is Olive's phoney-baloney and it is for Family Circle magazine and it is the forties and the Japs have just bombed Pearl Harbor so it's not like an honest and direct version was ever going to be considered for publication. It's a piece of journalistic Hokum, but so what? So nothing really, I just felt I had to include it because I enjoyed it so much. It does illustrate another problem with any conclusions to be drawn from Marstons living arrangements because clearly it wasn't anything that he or his spouses could ever comment on at that time.

Still, she does lay it on a bit thick.

While Marston may or may not have been in favor of the fictional element of the article, and therefore by association, a 'phony'; he was, ironically enough for the man who invented the lie detector, an actual convicted criminal.

The article, "Will Give Hearing to Alleged Mail Defrauder," the Bridgeport Telegram, Wednesday, 7 March 1923, p. 13: WASHINGTON, March 6. -- Dr. William Moulton Marston, Jr., Professor of legal psychology at the American university and inventor of the sphygmomandmeter [sic] or "lie detector," has made $3,000 bond and will be given a hearing March 16 on a charge he "lied by mail."

Dr. Marston was arrested on a warrant charging use of the mails to defraud and was taken before United States Comissioner McDonald, who fixed the date of the hearing. He was indicted last November in Boston on complaint of a number of creditors who charged that as treasurer of the United Dress Goods, Inc. he misrepresented the financial condition of his firm and thus obtained considerable bills from them. Prominent among the complainants are A.D. Julliard & Co. and C. Bahnsen & Co. of New York. Another is his ex-furnace tender, of Boston, whom it is alleged he owes more than $100.

So what's goin on here? Well in all honesty I don't know and any further facts of this case other than what you see here elude me. On the face of it, Marston was found guilty of mendacity by correspondance to the tune of a hundred dollars; a hundred dollars may well have been a lot in those days but it was only a 30th of the bond he had to pay. There were two federal indictments and a number of creditors.
He was obviously strapped for cash and tried something he didn't get away with.

I think this makes him perhaps poor and desperate, but not necessarily a phony of any great degree and it certainly tells us nothing about his attitude to women.

The F.B.I. actually had a file on him, which is now a matter of public record. And although there isn't that much in it; I think it's fair to say that they definitely did regard him as a bit of a phony.

E.P. Coffey, who headed the FBI's Technical Laboratory,- had Marston's book reviewed for the bureau:

Re: Review of book entitled, Lie Detector Test by Doctor William M. Marston. The above-entitled book was reviewed by Mr. Quinn Tamm of the Technical Laboratory who reports that in his opinion the book is typical of all the work done by Doctor Marston in that it is written in an extremely egotistical vein and that the sole purpose of the book seems to be to establish the fact that Doctor Marston was the first to use the blood pressure test in the detection of deception. The first three chapters in the book deal with the subject of pointing out how Doctor Marston discovered the blood pressure test as a deception detector and also ridicules all other psychological attempts along this same line. The balance of the book is devoted to the various uses to which Doctor Marston has put the so-called lie detector test such as actual use in police cases, examination of employees in banks, a chapter entitled "Love and the Lie Detector" in which Marston points out how he has settled marital difficulties by the use of his psychological test. It is noted that throughout the book the author points out that the blood pressure test for the detection of deception in the hands of a trained operator is infallible and that once the deception has been detected it has been his experience that if this is pointed out to the subject he will admit his guilt and it will have the psychological effect upon him of making him always in the future tell the truth. This to Mr. Tamm, exemplifies the same egotistical ridiculous strain in which this book is written.

So they weren't exactly blown away.

Here's another illustration, not unusual for the era I suppose, where Marston has convoluted the application of his lie detector to demonstrate the sharpness of the Gillette blades:



Now, to yourself and meself, this seems like just another ludicrous forties advertisement, but the vast majority of its audience took it absolutely seriously.
So it seems did the F.B.I. They seem to have had an informer and have a full report on Marston's Gillette tests in Detroit. According to the report he interfered with test results to provide data the advertisers wanted and encouraged his colleagues to share the deception.
1

2

Scribbled at the bottom of the first page is the comment:
"I always thought this fellow Marston was a phony & this proves it!"

Well I always thought that fellow was a phony too, Special Agent John. S. Bugas!
Unfortunately for me though, discovering that on more than one occasion Mr Marston was willing to bend the rules in order to secure cash for both his families isn't enough for my purposes.

I've come nowhere near outing the man as a phony feminist.

But if he was a genuine feminist, he was also a a bit of a phony too.


I've a bit more to say about this, but you can all shag off until tomorrow because I'm turning into some sort of hunch-backed translucent skinned web-wraith.

*Anyone who doubts exactly how often William Moulton Marston is described as a feminist can do a Google search of his name and the word 'feminist' he is given this title in every bio I could find.

The Male Feminist pt1

Okay I admit it, I bit off more than I can chew. I've really bitten off more than I can chew this time and the worst of it is that you; denizens of the data flow, you are the ones who have to digest it.

Upon reflection, perhaps things aint all that bad after all.
Because, (after all,) the interweb is an infinite menu and and instant click will take folk far away from this rubbish and onto something more palatable in an electronic nano-thrice.

Well today shall be one of them sloppy posts, so: If the urge should strike you, as you scan the pixels before you, to do this: then my advice is to obey that urge, (instantly).

Still here?-Okay then, I'spose that I might as well begin:

Have a look at this picture. This picture is from 1938 and depicts, in a fairly stagy way, the use of the first systolic pressure lie detector test. The gentleman on the far right is William Moulton Marston. The Lady taking notes is his student, Olive Byrne.

Have a look at Olive; Look familiar? Yes/No? Well there's no real reason why she should, except that, as you may or may not know, as well as inventing the stystolic pressure lie detector test, William Marston also created Wonderwoman, and cited Olive as one of his inspirations.


So let me say that once again:
Mr Marston invented the pre-cursor to the modern polygraph and he also invented the most well-known female super-hero of all time, based on Olive, (observe the bracelets!). How cool is that?

Marston is often referred to as a kind of 'proto-feminist', and at a time when women were regarded almost as children (and granted about as much self-determination), Marston was envisaging a new dawn of female supremacy. His most common quote (on the interveb) is from the American Scholar interview of 1944 where he said:

"Not even girls want to be girls so long as our feminine archetype lacks force, strength, and power... ...Women's strong qualities have become despised because of their weakness. The obvious remedy is to create a feminine character with all the strength of Superman plus all the allure of a good and beautiful woman."

Now that's a pretty cool thing for anyone to be coming out with back in 1944, I think you'd have to admit. Also, on the absolute fabbo-ness front, this man deserves respect for championing comics.

Marston examined comics when other psychologists were queueing up to blame them as a contributer to illiteracy and juvenile delinquency. It was when this intellectual crusade, ( which lead to the infamous 'comic-codes authority'), was in full 'Spanish Inquisition' mode, that Marston celebrated the popularity of the comic book form; seeing it as an opportunity to get kids to read -- and a platform to circulate his feminine supremacist ideal.

Here he addresses it in the same interveiw:

"It’s too bad for us ‘literary’ enthusiasts, but it’s the truth nevertheless -- pictures tell any story more effectively than words....If children will read comics...why isn’t it advisable to give them some constructive comics to read?"

Go on ya good thing Marston me boyo! So is it possible perhaps that William Moulton Marston was simply a brilliant and fantastic person, years ahead of his time and totally under-appreciated? Well.. um.. er... Okay this is where I get into the area of having bitten off more than I can comfortably chew... The answer to the above question is 'Yes!': but, it is a 'Yes!-but...'




As I admitted in the earlier post, I started this whole thing from a position of prejudice. It doesn't show much faith in human nature I guess, but I'm wary of folk who champion causes. I'm even more wary of folk who champion causes that do not seem to further their own self interest in even the smallest way. And a 'male feminist' kinda strikes me as likely phoney.



When I decided yesterday, to have a closer look at William, I was hazily aware that he lived in a menage e trois and that his second 'wife' ( Olive, incidentally): had been one of his students. I also knew that that 'gold-rope-that-made-you-tell-the-truth' didn't come out of nowhere and there was a huge aspect of bondage to his comics and to his psychological philosophy; I knew that an early study with his lie detector was to ask girls ( who, had been through a humiliating 'hazing' ritual,) whether they had enjoyed being beaten up and spanked. Conclusion: 'They loved it really the little tarts!'.

Alright I paraphrase, but my point being that when I decided to have a wee scratch on the surface; I wasn't really expecting to find what you'd call a 'feminist' and certainly, by today's standards, I didn't. But I didn't get a sense of a straight-forward fake either.

I shall have to finish this tomorrow, the computer's acting up and it's too late for me to continue.

I told you I bit off more than I can chew didn't I?

With Extreme Prejudice ( male feminist pt 0.5)

I'm not prejudiced but...

I am of course.

Human brains are pretty much hard-wired for it. Evolving as we did, in far smaller groups than the super-tribes of millions we interact with now, we just don't have the mental capacity for dealing with all the other people as individuals.

The brain takes short-cuts. These short-cuts lead to prejudice.

Case in point, if you had your lunch money stolen by a green-haired person at school; if you got mugged and badly beaten in your teens by a green-haired gang; if your green-haired neighbour poisoned your dog, and the one time you dated a green-haired person, they ran off with your best friend and all of your money; then the next time you meet a green-haired person, that person is going to have to work harder to gain your trust.


All the statistics in the world demonstrating that green-heads are no less moral than any other hair colour wont mean a damn to you in comparison to your own experience.

Green hair is a hypothetical physical characteristic, but there are millions of others. There are accents we don't like, ways of dressing that set off warning signals, even a persons age or gender is going to affect the way you view them. I think it's wrong for anyone to claim they are entirely without prejudice; it is never true: we constantly divide people in our minds into groups: 'Golf-drivers', 'Squash Players', 'Students', 'Scumbags', 'Suits', 'Emos', 'Mods' and 'Rockers'.

Anyway, my point being, that despite my best efforts; I notice what gender/age/skin-colour/clothes and accent people have, and that affects to some extent how I interact with them. I'd rather it didn't but it does. The phrase is :'To Keep an Open Mind', but I see 'closed' as the human mind default setting.

I would say that I don't Keep an Open Mind; I keep a closed mind, same as everyone else.

I try and open it as often as possible, but the sad fact is that the older you get the harder it is not to dismiss that green-haired person (or girl called 'Bláithín', or whatever the detail, that your own experience has led you to despise about people who share it, is ) and even if you do make friends with a green hair later in life, ( or you do come across a Bláithín who has a soul,) it's hard to dismiss all those years of having a contrary opinion, and the brain makes excuses to accommodate the original world view:

"No. The man who saved my life had kind of 'bluey green' hair"...

"She's not like all the other Blathins, I think of her more as a Sandra"...

My point is I'm prejudiced. I believe in the same rights and opportunities for all types of people but there are some types of folk I'm pre-disposed to more than others, and I'm probbly not gonna change at this stage. I believe that as soon you notice that someone is green-haired you have in some way categorised them in a different way.

All this is the pre-amble for the extremely prejudiced comment I am about to make:

Okay here goes.

Might as well just say it, and be done with it.

Right.

Here we go:

Any man who claims to be 'a feminist':I don't believe him.
I think he either actually thinks that he's something he's not,
Or he's pretending to be something he's not.

Todays post is only the intro,

In the next post I'll be having a look at one self-claimed feminist chap in more detail, but I just thought that I'd let you know by way of a heads-up.

I am completely prejudiced.

And if you think that it's in anyway typical of a white heterosexual male to be so judgemental:

Then so are you.

This is exactly how naive I am.

I'm sure it has been pointed out before, by clever folk who notice such things- that 'the accessible philosopher of today is the stand-up comedian'; and that comedy shows in general,(the good ones,) often illustrate better than anyone else the underlying reality of things.
I'm drawing down from two Golden sources of just this type of brilliance to explain my own current dilemma: the Simpsons and South park.

My dilemma is one I always face around election time; but as I occupy a similar political niche to the 'Dude' in 'The Big Lebowsky',(i.e.'Somebody the square community doesn't give a shit about'* )I normally wouldn't bother sharing it.

*-and by that I just mean that no political stragetist worth his salt is going to advise his candidate to spend any of his precious campaign-time securing the 'penniless-single-failed-dramatist' vote.

But this time it's different. First of all, this time I am half-way through an eighty-year olds' life-span, which is pretty grim when you think about it,(and I do). And, looking at the effect that all my previous votes have had upon politics in this country, it's hard not to feel that there isn't really any point in taking part in this charade any longer.

But, then again, this time is different for other reasons: this is one election where I feel that I share my dilemma with many more people than usual. And what dilemma is that?- Well this is where the Simpsons and South Park come in.


The Simpsons were probably specifically addressing the American two-party presidential race when they had their evil aliens both run as either the Democratic or the Republican candidate,- and thereby taking advantage of the fact that nobody ever considers a third option.

I'm sure that you get where we're going with this.

The Simpsons did it first, but, (to me,) South park did it better when the school had an election to choose a new Mascot for their team and Stan couldn't see the point in taking part in any democratic process which offered him the choice between a 'Giant Douche' or a 'Turd Sandwich'.



I have been dealing with this choice my whole democratic life. But I live in a country where people seem to inherit their election preferences genetically and politicians run 'Clinics' where they behave as if they have been personally responsible for everything their 'clients' receive by right as Irish Citizens.

As the Americans say: "It's the economy stupid" and any bunch of gangsters would continue to be the nations darlings so long as everyone had cash in their pockets. But this time 'round it's different. This time 'round, I'm not alone in thinking: "These are not the people we want making decisions that affect our future". My dilemma is, 'I'm just gosh darn it plum sick to ma teeth of havin' a vote that don't matter none and I'll vote for anybody halfway good who has a ghost's chance of getting in' but I cannot see that person on the ballot.

The Nordic countries seem to work fine to me. Who wants to do that to Ireland? Who wants a good balance between taxation and services? Who wants lower crime? More money for education and bottle-banks inside the shops that work like cash-machines and not only 'wash and return' ('instead of smash and remould') - but also pay you for doing it? Who wants broadband as a right? Who wants good libraries everywhere?
Who wants fines set not by amount but as a percentage of the guilty person's income?

Anybody who wants to do that to Ireland, you have my vote. I don't care what your Granda did in the Civil War, I don't care whether you can get me a medical card no questions asked, I don't care if you want to sell Leitrim to the Japanese or invade the Isle of Man: this is what I want for my home country. Make a commitment to that and I will vote for you.

And that's an election promise.

Welcome to the Garbagerie...follow the happy feet.

I have always believed that there has to be a way. There has to be a better way, there is, there has to be, surely, some sort of approach. I mean at least until I’m made Emperor of all the land and am placed in a position of absolute power, (with many wise and trusted advisors at my disposal mind you). There has to be some way some approach to living life that is ‘right’; some small way at whittling down some tiny piece of the Universe into a better thing than it would’ve been otherwise. My bit. Where shall I begin with this? It’s a difficult thing to explain to anyone who wasn’t around for it, but back 30 years ago, when I were a gorsoon, the whole idea of Nuclear War really felt like a ‘when’ rather than an ‘if’. There was 'two tribes' and 'If the russians love their children too' films like:'the day after', 'when the wind blows' and 'bomb threads'. It weighed heavier on the consciousness of some kids more than others obviously and an interest in Science Fiction didn’t help; so many stories began in the aftermath of a nuclear apocalypse ('a dog and his boy''mad max''damnation alley') that it started to simply be more or less a given. And you can see why it was a popular genre -the apocalypse is a great thing for the story maker because you just take the world that you know and the people you know and ask a big ‘what if?’ and take it from there. Pretty cheap to film too, it makes it possible to set your western in a dump. It's kind of a depressing view to be taking in all the time as a kid though. While I may have believed in the possibility of global catastrophe as a given; I have still always believed that there had to be a way to avoid it. The apocalypse hasn’t gone away of course and these days it’s environmental, but it’s still there in fillums and books and comics and what have you, and it’s still inside my head. I believe in it, I suppose, it’s in there deep. It definitely affects the way that I feel about my bit. It’s not that honestly think that next week the world as we know it will collapse in some instantaneous natural disaster but, I dunno…all this waste is piling up so quickly. Those photos from space of all the detritus we've left up there over the past 50 years only.... there has always seemed an element of madness to the ‘work-and-buy-and-consume-and-die’ template of life that society in general and television in particular seemed to be telling me was the whole point of existence. And also, it seems to be getting worse. People talk about raising 'awareness' but back when I was less aware, the problems hadn't become so acute,- for example: Before I ever realised that i 'ought to'; I used to buy fair-trade sugar. Grown by farmers who made a decent wage and were not the pawns of enormous multinational corporations exploiting unjust economic arrangements with weaker countries to the point of slavery: it was called ‘Siucra’, and it was made locally and you can’t get it anymore. You can get something in the distinctive purple and white package that’s called ‘Siucra’ but that’s only because enormous multinational corporations exploiting unjust economic arrangements with weaker countries to the point of slavery recognise a trusted brand when they see one. To buy fair-trade sugar now, I have to pay extra, get less and have it shipped from half-way across the world. There’s a lot of these kind of things, ‘dissappearing world’- old git type complaints really, that I’ve witnessed in my life and continue to witness and that depress me. The policy of ‘planned obsolesence’ in manufacturing for example seems to me to be an actual intentional crime against the future. It makes absolutely perfect sense economically to create irreparable products with a limited life-span, the fact that this is a shocking waste matters not. The factory needs orders like the body needs food. The waste product is 'the product'. In buying this product the consumer not only hands over their capital but also takes upon themselves responsibility for the waste. There is no reason in the world, from the factory’s point of view, to make a repairable long-lasting machine. It’s counter-productive to the factories aims (and the company's survival) to do so. Looking after my bit will never change this. I feel that exercising my right as a consumer to choose more sustainable products e.t.c. only turns that desire 'to do the right thing' into a commodity itself. One example: Recently, I bought a torch, (I say recently I actually bought it for the Electric Picnic) it was about three times more expensive than a normal torch because it wound up and not only didn’t need batteries but could charge my phone. I don’t get to splash out often on, what was for me, a frivolous ‘boy-toy’ so I was only delighted with meself. It could charge any phone*. (*Any phone; how? It could charge any phone because all phones charge the same they just have bizarrely different sized and shaped attachments so that you have to buy a different charger for each different type of phone. There is no godly reason for this except economics). I had splashed out. On a torch, that I couldn’t afford, but that I felt in some way represented my attitude to a society built on constant consumerism. I needn’t tell you that it took all of ten seconds for someone to point out to me that the many plastic moving parts required to make it work were not manufactured with either longevity or repairs in mind and I had simply been another 'consumer-sucker' fooled into buying a piece of straight-to-bin-tat having been fully convinced that it represented some aspect of my personality and ‘aspired to’ lifestyle. Looking after your own bit is a lie. I think that I’m going to have to stop whittling. I think I’m going to have to abandon my own personal feeble attempts at staving off the apocalypse and just accept that actually sorting this stuff is not an individuals job, it’s a governments job, it’s a global governments job. And even if I could magically grant tomorrow to each person a global right to vote for a global government to solve these problems no global population would vote that global government into power. And if i could, and if they did, global business would not allow it to exist five minutes. And I thought the idea of nuclear war was depressing.

Black and White and said all over

“The Rubberbandits are offensive, not because they swear and reference drugs, and not because they reinforce a jaundiced and incorrect view of Limerick; the Rubberbandits are offensive because they are Modern Irish Society’s equivalent of ‘The Black and White Minstrel Show’.”

This is the point of view*(* I haven’t quoted directly but I believe that that’s the gist), put forward by a contributor to the comments section of the blog I did about Liveline, and I have to admit: It has me thinkin’.


And the ‘gist of the gist’ is, that the Bandits embody, in their act, a marginalised minority of Irish culture that the rest of us fear and at the same time look down upon, ie: ‘The Scumbags’, ‘The underclass’, ‘The knacks’.


The gist of the Minstrel comparison is; that laughing at caricatures, of this oppressed and feared element, is ultimately satisfying to the rest of us.
It mitigates our fear of them; while at the same time making us feel good about our own relative position in society.
The fact, that it’s popular and entertaining, doesn’t justify it.
If anything, the fact that it’s widely popular, suggests that we have huge problems as a society confronting our own prejudices.

I find this an interesting point of view, so I thought I’d have a closer look at it.





The way I see it, the Minstrel/Entertaining-Scumbag (hereafter known as ‘Happy-Knack’) analogy, doesn’t hold up to scrutiny on two points:


Firstly, (as ‘Bock the Robber’ pointed out) ‘Knacks’ are not really an identifiable minority in the way that black people are. The notion of ‘black people’ as a set of human beings is difficult anyway because as soon as you wish to treat people in terms of these sets you’re going to have problems about who you leave in and who you leave out, but there are those close enough to the ‘type’ to fit everybody’s general idea. So we can agree that Samuel Jackson yes, Ali G, not really.
In contrast the ‘Knack/Scumbag’ term is a relative one, just like the term ‘Snob/Posh’ and when we use either generalisation most of us are usually accurately speaking of how we perceive ourselves in relation to who we’re talking about rather than any agreed general group in our society.

Secondly, the Black and White minstrel of the stage and screen were of necessity watered down and inoffensive. Their only fuction was to entertain, neither the original minstrels or their white-skinned-blacked-up successors ever challenged the idea that they were anything other than delightful child-like performers. The confrontational vulgarity of the Rubberbandits does fit the perceived stereotype of whatever a ‘Knack’ is, but bringing that to the stage and defending it on aesthetic grounds has more in common with Punk or the Dadaist movement than The Black and White Minstrel Show.

So, for me, there’s no way the Rubberbandits are Black and White minstrels but that’s not to say that I don’t see the point of the comparison. Perhaps if they were puppets like Dustin and Podge and Rodge, I’d find them easier to get my head around, perhaps if like Ross O’Carroll Kelly they represented a caricature of the most comfortable in this country rather than the most dangerous\vulnerable they’d be easier for me personally to find amusing. When I was a kid, a slagging match was only good if the participants were both doin’ the slagging and were on some sort of equal footing, otherwise it was just bullying, and bullying’s not funny.

But I don't think that's what's going on here.These lads are well able to stick up for themselves, as well as write a catchy tune.

What the Bandits are at isn’t really all that new; it’s new for this country though.
And while it remains to be seen if they can maintain any cultural presence beyond a novelty single, their intellectual and articulate defence of their art, while maintaining their ‘Knack’ personas, clears them of the charge of ‘minstrelcy’, and so far, been the most subversive thing about them.

Welcome to bandit country

"Rubberbandits. Let's reinforce the stereotype, why don't we? Why let others fuck us when we can do it to ourselves?

Nice going lads."

This was a facebook comment from a couple of days ago that generated no less than 105 comments. Some of support, but most of which boiled down to; "For crissake, can you not take a joke?" Yesterday on Joe Duffy's liveline this exact topic was discussed within earshot of the nation in what must have been one of the most bizarre radio programmes that I've ever heard in my life.

The beginning of the programme felt like an ambush, the ex-miniature of d'fence had voiced support of this song, and his support was being interpreted as a shameless bit of electioneering. 'Angry caller' was there to tell us what a disgrace it was that a politician could support the glamourisation of drug abuse. There was two audio sections that they had clearly lined up before the programme; one was the offending line: 'A bag of Yolks' and the other was from the Rubberbandits slagging Willie O'Dea (the third member of the band is known as Willie O'D.J.).


Now it maybe just me, but it honestly felt like a set-up. Here we have a member of an extremely unpopular political party supporting something that refers to drugs and contains swearing: Lets get'm lads!

Unfortunately, for the ambush, the miniature pointed out that he had been mercilessly lampooned by the lads himself before they got a chance to play the audio clip, and even quoted the best line; "I swear on my 'tache,- it's very good hash!"

Also unfortunate, in terms of the ambush, the 'Angry Caller' became less and less articulate, actually referring at one point to the 'usage of druggage'. Then Joe's attack was somewhat rescued by an incensed woman who worked with families devastated by narcotics and didn't find anything amusing about the damage they cause.

Finally they had Willie on the ropes; his comeback "You're obviously from another political party" back-fired horrendously when it became clear that lady caller was a Fianna Fail stalwart who had actually been a Feena Foyle mayor of Dublin.

Cue embarrassing pause.
You'd imagine nobody was getting up from that but Willie was rescued by a bandit.

'Blindboy' of the Rubberbandits was the next caller, to Duffy's chagrin, he stayed 'in character' and maintained his comedy accent. A stroke of genius, it took only a minute before it was clear that the 'Joke-voice' was the most articulate and intelligent one on the air.

Willie came out of it as the champion of humour and good sense and the Rubberbandits increased their likelihood for a Christmas number one by a few thousand sales; Duffy came out of it looking exactly like what he is:
A GOWL!

Does Limerick really need some 'comedy-knacks' reinforcing the stereotype set up by Primetime et al? Personally, I think it helps. Because articulate, intelligent and funny are not what people associate with Limerick, and they should do.

Truth be told, the rubberbandits have never really floated my boat, but this single is catchy, and hilariously bad taste. I really hope it is number one for Christmas;if that happens it will not only be good for this town; it might just remind us all why we live in this country in the first place.

Here is the news:

I live in Limerick.

Here is a year-old article about something going on in Limerick that was in the Village magazine. I haven't seen it covered anywhere else and I think it's of interest. It's followed by something more recent I read in the Phoenix, both articles illustrate the way things seem to work around here:

Village Magazine - Issue 8, December 2009 - January 2010:

Nepotism in Limerick

"Closer to home, Villager was amused to see John Fitzgerald, former City Manager in Dublin getting himself and the Limerick Regeneration Agency, headed by former Dublin City Housing Manager, Brendan Kenny, in hot water for indulging nepotism to the serious displeasure of Limerick City Manager, Tom Mackey.

Kenny employed his daughter on a large salary without bothering with anything as tedious as an inter- view process.

Claire Feeney, girlfriend of Southside Director, Brendan Hayden, was recruited on a salary of 90,000 without competitive interview. she had no third- level or other relevant qualification.

And Brian McElligott, son of Regeneration Agency Director, Liam McGelligott was recruited in Autumn 2007 without competitive interview. He had no third-level or other relevant qualification, thought the agency is now paying his way through a University of Limerick project-management course.

Fitzgerald noted that the Limerick Regeneration Agency didn't have to comply with normal public-sector norms.

Funny then that this is the same John Fitzgerald who so rigorously - including with the benefit of a fat legal opinion -hounded residents' representatives on the Grangegorman Development Agency (which he also chairs) to comply with normal company law. They were not to report back to the communities that chose them but to observe the niceties of company law - i.e. silence.

Fitzgerald reckons the Limerick agencies' boards are "not boards of governance". ..."

Mad isn't it? Even madder that nobody said squat about it apart from the Village, but at least Tom Mackey is here to point out corruption... But wait a minute, just while we're still in Limerick and having a look at what people get away with, check this out,(from Phoenix magazine, Nov 5 2010 p.16 beyond the pale by 'Goldhawk'):

" Rosemary's Limerick Garden.

The Limerick post got on to an intriguing story recently about leafy Hillcrest Drive,off the Ennis Rd where residents complained that a house built in the back garden of a residence there had not complied with planning permission. But this simple planning story had more than one twist in it.

Angry residents complained that while none of them could get planning permission for minor alterations down the years, the owner of 24 Hillcrest Drive had built a new house in the back garden in a substantial alteration of the planning permission recieved. The residents also complained that their entreaties to local councillors had not resulted in any serious attention. However following complaints to Limerick City Council, the planning control office sent a warning letter to the owners of the property and this prompted an application for retention of the alterations. Which is where it got really interesting.

At a meeting of the council last March, Labour councillor Tom Shortt drew attention to the fact that the applicant was an employee of the council. Shortt also complained that the retention application was not listed on the council meeting agenda he had recieved and that the relevant documentation was missing. The Post described how the relevant pages were also missing from the agenda it supplied to its journalist covering the council meeting.

Then it emerged, as the local Post sleuths discovered, that the application had been made by Mary Fitzgerald, an employee in the rates department and before that the planning department.

More recently the Post returned to the story and reported that despite the dramatic new precedent set for the estate by the back garden edifice, An Bord Pleanala had upheld what the newspaper described as a contentious application. The board stated that the building would not seriously injure the local amentities and was not contrary to popular planning and sustainable development in the area.

This was despite the recommendation of the board's inspector, Conor McGrath, who had stated the opposite, namely that the proposed development would be out of character with the surrounding pattern of development, would result in over-development and was detrimental to the residential amenities of future residents.

Enraged residents complained to such authorities as Environmental Minister John Gormley, who replied that the issue was outside his remit, while there are plans for further protests.

Howeverwhile poor Rosemary was forced to respond to the Post's enquiries - she said that "the proper channels" had been used - the newspaper did not name the other resident of the property. Goldhawk can reveal that this is Pat Dowling, one of the council's three directors of services and deputy to the City manager, Tom Mackey. Dowling is married to Rosemary and lives with her at Hillcrest Drive. However, Ms Fitzgerald/Dowling was the sole applicant. Dowling just lives there with his spouse, Rosemary."

I don't normally do that much politics, ( because A: I know I'm not as well informed as I should be, and B: It depresses the hell outa me) but here are two instances that are clearly intelligible instances of pretty sharp practice, so even I have to ask once in a while: What's going on? and how come they get away with it? Answers on a postcard please...