Monday, 16 August 2021

Ennui; or, A New Ease from Now On

 Quoth the poet: No retreat, baby, no surrender! We don't know what your coffee table looks like, but ours has a pile of books intended for summer reading the thickness of roughly three paper editions of the OED, of which we have read about one finger's breadth since June; every time we try to peruse a page we fall asleep. Writing, under these conditions, is a challenge to say the least. Still, this is not an apology, nor even an explanation, for our perhaps paltry bog blog post production of late. It is merely a preamble to the main business, which is -

- well hell, we don't know. Ennui? As Morrissey said, "I was looking for a job and then I found a job, and heaven knows I'm miserable now", or as Al Swearengen put it with perhaps rather more force, "Many times that's what the fuck life is: One vile fucking task after another". What with our current consumption of coffee and opioids, not to mention our customary preoccupation with syphilis, one would be hard pressed to say whether we are at risk of turning into a Romantic poet. Time will, no doubt, tell.

Be that as it may, we have some rather competent original content to delight and enlighten you with today. Shewee Fiend Friend, that intrepid straddler of time zones, has been to Amsterdam Airport again. Has she, in fact, blessed this international travel hub with her presence more times than any human now living? The regularity and vigour, indeed, with which Shewee Fiend Friend visits the main airport of the Netherlands is spectacular to the point of being worrying. It's almost as if she is gripped by some sort of fit, or seizure, exclaiming, "I'm going to Amsterdam Airport!" and then, as P. G. Wodehouse would arguably put it, sort of goes to Amsterdam Airport. Medical science will possibly never advance far enough to give us the answer; we'll have to content ourselves with drinking more coffee, and perusing these pictures. Here is Shewee Fiend Friend's review of what she argues is the best public toilet she has ever experienced.

I excitedly told the wrong audience ([Person whose apathy [was] so severe he didn’t even have critique]) that the Amsterdam airport’s toilet was the best public toilet I had experienced

Now I shall correct that error, at 4:30am because I’m jet lagged and can’t sleep of course


So lovely to enter a clean room with clearly marked doors that extend from floor to relatively high ceiling

The stall has these 5 wood coathooks of varying sizes

Honestly most were too big to be of any use with a backpack but they are very aesthetically pleasing. But you just need one. And if you’ve got a purse they’d be great


This device was chock full of paper and I love the seat sanitizer


Look at this bin placement. By the door. Amazing. My thigh did not press uncomfortably against it


So much space. Fun flush

Totally fine sinks

Nothing too fancy, just all very very efficient and comfortable

There is no limit, it seems, to the energetic antics of our friends. Jonny (who counts as a friend for administrative reasons) has an important contribution to make to the debate (is it still a debate if it has been settled that there is a wrong and a right way of doing things and the right way has been established and described at length?) on toilet roll orientation.

Schrödinger's bog roll?

One for your next correct hanging position debate

We note that whether this roll is hung correctly depends on the position of Jonny. If he is to the right of the roll it is hung correctly, but if he moves to the left, a large neon sign will, morally, erect itself, so to speak, over the latrine trench and scream, in large, frantic lettering, "ERROR! ERROR! FLEE!". Also, we would like to take this opportunity of informing Jonny that, whatever one's views on toilet roll orientation, one should never position oneself under the roots of an uprooted tree as it, we have been informed by a reliable source, may turn over again and crush one, under its root system, into clumps of soil. This is not a fate that we would wish on this bog blog's main contributor of toilet selfies. Or, arguably, anyone else.

Jonny has also excelled himself in the "rugged handsomeness with rustic hand-dryer and grit on the floor" genre of toilet photography, and submitted what might be the hottest bog selfie of 2021!

Is your mind boggled? Ours is!

Some random bar last night!

As regular readers will be all too aware, we are fans of clear signage at the Privy Counsel. If you, too, enjoy a) clear signage and b) men in rugged lumberjack shirts using authoritative body language, then brace yourself!

In a Thai restaurant I can't spell the name of


There was a sign

Lovely bin

Poorly used

"Lovely bin - poorly used" might be the first line of a really great haiku about hygiene and the futility of human endeavour, if anyone felt like writing it. We would, but we are rather busy at the moment with the kind of crazy, overcompensatory coping mechanisms that you develop when you, for complicated reasons, can't walk, sit, or sleep. So fuck off, darlings, and leave us alone.

Oh yes, the Festive Video. We were possibly rather hasty, there, with our exhortation to our audience to fuck off. If you'd like, you can postpone the off-fucking for a couple of minutes and listen to this great song. It's a funny fact, we have observed, that even as you become increasingly conservative with age, you also become more of a hippy. Thus we have, with advancing years, developed a fascination with the moon, going so far as to stand outside staring at it, boring our friends with remarks about its whereabouts, sometimes even going so far as to comment on its colour and size, and downloading an app. Yes, it's that bad. Anyway, the app helpfully informed us yesterday, or if it was the day before, that there is now a quarter moon. Enjoy.

 Festive Video: Emmylou Harris, Easy From Now On. (You may also enjoy this version from the Netherlands.)

Related Reading

All posts featuring Shewee Fiend Friend

All posts featuring Jonny 

The original post explaining the science of toilet roll orientation




Wednesday, 14 July 2021

Moving Heaven and Earth: Polarisation and Proto-Indo-Europeans

 How many proto-Indo-European verbs mean to “move”, “move round”, “drive”, “draw out or forth”, or “get shaken”? We are asking, not because we want to rudely expose anyone’s ignorance about proto-Indo-European verbs or because we have some kind of perversion (actually both those motives might not be entirely unrelated to reality), but because it seems to us that roughly half the time we look up the etymology of a word, it comes from a PIE root with the meaning to “move”, “move round”, “drive”, “draw out or forth”, or “get shaken”. One almost inevitably reaches the conclusion that something was deeply wrong with the proto-Indo-Europeans. Why this obsession with movement? one wonders. Why have so many words indicating action? We don’t know about you, but all the people we know who like doing things are disturbed to the point of pathology. 

If one were feeling a bit rabid, one might theorise that there is a reason Indo-European languages are so dominant in Europe and what is commonly described as "the Indian sub-continent", and that reason is that they were spread by a bunch of psychopaths who were not content with being comfortable where they were - possibly having a beer and using terrible puns, or at most flapping their arms about while discussing how much they hate post-modernism - but were intent on striding about, sweating, in order to get to new places. The deeply repugnant effect of the spread of the Indo-Europeans is that the descendants of these psychopaths are now striding about the continent enjoying depraved activities such as playing football (or worse: watching others play football); cycling while encased in tight, unflattering lycra garments; and going to each other’s houses to play boardgames. “Come,” as we are accustomed to sighing, with gritted teeth (oh no, sighing while gritting your teeth is not at all like licking your elbow; it is not just possible but to be encouraged among right-thinking people), “friendly bombs”.


An illustration of the horrifying energy levels of the Indo-Europeans. Source: Wikipedia.

The latest such example of a word deriving from a root meaning to “move”, “move round”, “drive”, “draw out or forth”, or “get shaken” is one we came across in an effort to delve into the deeper meaning of the word “polarisation” by looking up “pole”. “Pole”, in the sense we are interested in at the moment, is the third one listed on Etymonline after “person from Poland” (not an irrelevant word in this context; we’ll return to this) and “stake, pole, post”, and what we are told about its origins is this:

"northern or southern end of Earth's axis," late 14c., from Old French pole or directly from Latin polus "end of an axis;" also "the sky, the heavens" (a sense sometimes used in English from 16c.), from Greek polos "pivot, axis of a sphere, the sky," from PIE *kwol- "turn round" (PIE *kw- becomes Greek p- before some vowels), from root *kwel- (1) "revolve, move round."


The French, as usual, have left their grubby etymological fingerprints all over the place, as evidenced by the roots of the word we are interested in, “polarisation”:


1812, "state of having different properties on different sides," from polarize + -ation, and in part from French polarisation, noun of action from polariser. Figuratively from 1871; of social and political groups, "accentuation of differences," from 1945.


"Why this obsession", you ask, "with the source of the word 'polarisation'?" "Isn’t it too hot to worry about anything more complicated than a gin and tonic?" you might reasonably object, and you would of course be right. The reason we’re interested in drawing out or forth the meaning of “polarisation” is that someone told us something amusing and we’d like to go on about it at length. Bear with us; we’ll get there.


Society is becoming more and more polarised, we are told, and this is bad. The reason given is usually that we are now, as individuals, encased in what are known as “bubbles” (specifically, we understand, of the filter variety) or "echo chambers". These "bubbles" or "chambers" are caused, some argue, while others state that it is merely that their effect is amplified, by social media. (Reward yourself with another gin and tonic if you saw this coming.) The effect of the filter bubble is to shield one from news, opinions and angles that one doesn't like, thus confirming and strengthening one's beliefs and worldview. So for instance, if one held the view that hanging the toilet paper the wrong way round is a sane, normal and fruitful thing to do, one would only read media, follow social media accounts, and talk to friends who endorsed this view, thus ending up with the erroneous conviction that one's warped minority belief was shared by the majority of the population. The theory is that if everyone is encased in such a filter bubble or echo chamber, strife is inevitable as when people meet in the virtual forum, they become enraged by what they consider the heretical beliefs of other people, and start metaphorically throwing rotten grapes at each other's faces and hurling insults about the cut of their toga.


An illustration of what a polarised conflict might have looked like in the ancient world.
Source: Asterix at the Olympic Games, by Réné Goscinny and Albert Uderzo.

Others argue that polarisation is simply a factor of human society; it is natural to want to bond with others who share our views, and our social rituals include affirming commonly held beliefs, and viewing out-groups with suspicion. (Anyone who has had the misfortune of viewing a football match will have seen an illustration of these phenomena.) Indeed, one might argue that we could all freak out a little less about social media and our various digital devices, and take a moment to contemplate one of the many images of gentlemen on trains, in the olden days, wearing hats and reading newspapers. Were these gentlemen, one might ask oneself, reading newspapers propagating views they didn't share? Probably not, or they wouldn't be sitting sedately but gesticulating furiously and perhaps taking their hats off. 

An image of people on a train, reading. We note that two women are standing, and find this fascinating. We are forever hearing that in the past, there was a thing called chivalry. Chivalry apparently meant that men and women interacted freely, and men did things like open doors for women, offer them their seats on trains, and shield them from traffic by helpfully always walking on the side of the pavement where the traffic was (how convenient it is for a woman to always be accompanied by a man when leaving the house!). All valuable and laudable habits, we can probably all agree. Nowadays, the argument goes, in the wake of the Me Too hysteria, men simply can't tell the difference any more between telling a joke and violently assaulting someone, and thus it has become impossible for the sexes to interact in a natural way. We don't know what the hell is going on in this picture from an age in which we are told that chivalry still existed, and the men, presumably, should have experienced an irresistible social pressure to give the ladies a seat; possibly all the men in this particular photograph had arthritis, or polio, or were blind due to tertiary syphilis. We can only speculate.

Whatever one's thoughts are on polarisation, it is a truth universally acknowledged that some things are right, and some things are wrong, and one thing that is wrong is hanging one's toilet roll in the "under" orientation. (For less regular readers, it might help to know that we have explored this topic carefully in a previous post.) We have been explaining this for years on this blog, and our mind is boggled whenever it turns out that a friend of ours persists in their misguided habit of hanging the toilet roll the wrong way round. We have mentioned before that in the case of Shewee Fiend Friend, for instance, we are, for the most part, joined in a pure and beautiful friendship, like "two pulsating brains, beating as one". However, there are certain subjects on which we disagree (for instance, The Great Bike Pedal Débâcle of May 2021 nearly ended our relationship), one of which is toilet roll orientation. You may imagine our surprise when our chat conversation with Shewee Fiend Friend revealed this tantalising information, in November last year:

[Person in Shewee Fiend Friend's immediate circle] usually hangs the tp your way. Not consistently though.


This is actually worse than if he had principles and was doing it that way consistently. I think he's just never thought about it.


I think he intuitively has an instinct to do it a certain way but usually isn't thinking about it so 70% of the time it's a 50-50 chance which way it will end up. 15 % of the time he does it the way that seems right to him and 15% of the time he just leaves it there empty. I've put a lot of research into this analysis. Far more effort than he puts into hanging the tp.

Our response to this information was, understandably, as follows:

We find this incredibly stressful. Just thinking about it. It's bad.

To which Shewee Fiend Friend replied:

It's really difficult for me. I would rather have a declared offensive.

Naturally we then hurried on to other topics of conversation, but a few weeks later we had a conversation with a colleague, which led us to reveal this fascinating information:

My work friend admitted today that she and her husband have a fifty-fifty scheme going with the toilet roll. So it's apparently not just you. We are appalled but also intrigued.

 Shewee Fiend Friend said, "I don't know how it works. It is appalling". Which is a good summary of the whole sorry mess.


Incidentally, when discussing culture wars and polarisation, Shewee Fiend Friend likes to bring up the Huguenots. There are few things we enjoy more - and we are not being sarcastic here - than listening to Shewee Fiend Friend expound on the horrors of the Huguenots. The splendid and beautiful rant we had the privilege of partaking of a couple of years ago has unfortunately been lost to, if not the mists of time, then to the moving, moving round, or driving between different social media platforms. However, this abridged version has been preserved for posterity. Here, for your delight and edification, is a relatively brief rant about the Huguenots, consisting of a summary of a conversation Shewee Fiend Friend had with another friend:

Then we complained about society in general and she brought up how she thinks left/right wing are like the late-reformation ideologies.

She likened it to the Puritans.

So I went on about the Huguenots.

She is hoping the timeline is similar to the Reformation so we will live to see the return of theatres and fun, and the downfall of censorship.

I think the Puritans might be an even better comparison.

The Huguenots also entered under a cover of [political symbol].

And everyone was like, just let them have their [political symbol].

Then they started burning shit.


There is more stuff about Huguenots burning things, terrible slaughter, and a man being put into a cage, which we would tell you more about if the internet hadn't destroyed our memory. You can probably look it up online if you're interested.

Speaking of polarisation, let's have a picture of our favourite toilet babe, Jonny (who counts as a friend for administrative reasons), incorporating at least three things that are prone to causing violent disagreements: face masks, handwashing, and non-mixer taps!

It is a truth universally acknowledged that literally everyone enjoys a toilet selfie from Jonny.

Now for a Festive Video, before we remove ourselves from the computer to venture forth into the real world and drink beer!

 Festive Video: Jon Bon Jovi - You Give Love a Bad Name

As usual, since Blogger fucked up the embed function we don't know if the video is working, so here's a link to be on the safe side:


Related Reading

On toilet roll orientation: Rocking, Rolling, Ranting

All posts featuring Shewee Fiend Friend


All posts featuring Intellectual Friend, our etymological guide, without whom we would be lost in the wilderness, without a map and with no dried fish. He might accurately be described as both a Pole and a pole, engaging in much wandering but always remaining a fixed position to which one can return for intellectual solace, and whisky. 

An instance of an etymological tour de force from Intellectual Friend


All posts featuring Jonny




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