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Censored!

19 Jan

On January 18, you may have been disappointed to see that this webpage had gone black.

Yes, my words—the words of Agatha Whitt-Wellington—were censored from my adoring public.

Why? Because I was participating in the largest online protest ever, to protest SOPA/PIPA, two bills in the US that could severely limit Internet freedom. While the vote on SOPA may have been temporarily delayed, it’s not gone even though President Obama has criticised it (surprising, eh? as you know how much Congress and the Senate value his take on things). I may joke about censorship, but if the Internet were censored how might the Arab Spring or the Occupy movement have been affected? Would I be rolling in cash proceeds from my extensive back catalog if the Internet were censored? I shudder to think. That’s why we all have to do something.

What you can do:

1. Cherish those on the Internet who use their freedom wisely.

2. Use your freedom wisely.

3. Never give away your freedom.

4. Talk to people about what’s going on.

5. Stand up and do something, whether you’re in the US or not.

Of course, I’d never deliberately offend anyone’s sensibilities on my website, nor would I break any laws, because with freedom comes responsibility. But I won’t stand by doing nothing when our freedom is in danger. I hope you won’t either.

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Stake Your Future on A Hell of A Past

12 Nov

Tonight ends the reign of Silvio Berlusconi. According to the Guardian, the resignation of “the 75-year-old billionaire brought down the curtain on a government that has played a significant role in taking the European single currency and the global economy to the brink of catastrophe.”

Those not familiar with his sterling performance as an economic leader may remember for him for his admirable respect for women (calling Angela Merkel “an unfuckable fat arse,” his bunga-bunga parties), his hilarious legal cases (tax fraud, embezzlement, attempting to bribe a member of the police, corrupting a judge, paying for sex with a minor and more!), his undeniable compassion for his country (in 2009, he suggested that the tens of thousands of Italians made homeless by an earthquake should see it as “weekend camping”) or his top notch anti-Semitic, homophobic and all around offensive perspectives (describing the Obamas as having great suntans).

However, as we bid him farewell, it’s perhaps better to remember him through the eyes of the one person who knew him better than anyone else: the man himself.

“When asked if they would like to have sex with me, 30% of women said, ‘Yes’, while the other 70% replied, ‘What, again?'”

“Women are lining up to marry me. Legend has it, I know how to do it.”

“I am without doubt the person who’s been the most persecuted in the entire history of the world and the history of man.”

“In my opinion, and not only mine, I am the best prime minister we can find today.”

“I am the Jesus Christ of politics. I am a patient victim, I put up with everyone, I sacrifice myself for everyone.”

Silvio, now it’s time to go, you got an open door.

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We Are What Democracy Looks Like and We Look Fetching

16 Oct

October 15, 2011 was a Global Day of Action. I hope your actions included more than just eating chips and listening to the football scores. The Arab World had the spring, and this autumn is a chance for the rest of us to make a difference.

The day was tied to the Occupy Wall Street protests in New York. If you aren’t aware of them, may I politely suggest that you wake up and pay attention to the world around you? They’re a leaderless, non-violent movement of people of all ages, races, and political persuasions who are a bit sick and tired of the power and greed of corporations. One of their slogans–We are the 99%–highlights the fact that the richest 1% of the US owns 40% of the wealth and takes home nearly a quarter of the nation’s income, and therefore politicians seem more keen on protecting them and corporations than looking after the majority of the country.

The government bailed out the banks because “they were too big to fail.” I’m no mathematician, but 99% of a country seems like a pretty “big” group (see chart).

So protesters began “occupying” Wall Street. Within weeks, thousands of Americans were occupying their own cities. The movement went global yesterday with protests in countries around the world. People are gathering together to say, “Yo, politicians, we are here and you must pay attention to us.” (Use of the slang term “yo” is obviously optional.)

As an American who is—yes, I know this may shock you—part of the 99% and as a concerned global citizen, I felt I had to act. So Christopher and I led an occupation of the village green yesterday.

We set up our tent in late morning, and it didn’t take long to attract some attention. This may or may not be explained by my incredibly captivating attire (merci to the boys at Designs by Maurice). However, our multimedia presentation quickly helped to inform the less enlightened villagers, and soon our numbers rivaled those in major American cities.

Unlike the hypocrisy shown in many American cities towards the universal rights of freedom of assembly and expression, our local police were most respectful of our protest. I confess there were a few arrests. This was not due to violence or destruction, but rather because, during our General Assembly to vote on our demands, some participants insisted on saying “pacific” instead of “specific” and I felt compelled to shop them to the coppers as that level of ignorance has no part in any effective social change movement.

One criticism of the American protests is that they are unfocused: opponents see this as a weakness but many supporters see it as a result of the many different societal problems caused by greed. Our group decided while we stand in solidarity with all multi-issue protests, we would focus on one simple specific demand: we will continue to occupy until the world becomes a fairer and all round nicer place to live.

Although I elected not to stay the night out on the green, I have just returned from there and can report that the occupation is still going strong. If you would like to help us, here is a list of the campers’ current needs:

  • Food
  • Tarps
  • Cardboard and paint for signs
  • A job offering a living wage
  • Yesterday’s Wales v. France rugby result
  • Water

If you’re not able to stop by our group, please consider supporting or starting your own local occupation. Show your politicians that enough is enough. Greed has to led to a global financial crisis and austerity measures, which hurt the poorest the most, will not eliminate the problems. Take action. Do something. Just don’t bother throwing a pie in Rupert Murdoch’s face, because that didn’t really change anything, now did it?

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Je Suis Innocent!

19 Jul

Despite what you may have heard in today’s select committee, I was never present at any discussions between Coulson, Cameron and Brooks. A certain flame-haired so-and-so is clearly only dragging my name into the proceedings to make herself appear more likeable by association with such a popular, attractive and clean-as-a-whistle writer as my good self. And the implication that I have locked lips with either of the Murdochs—come on, you know how I feel about Australians!

At this point, I am not likely to get my legal team involved: there are much bigger fish to fry first. I’ve hardly been harmed in the way others have by News Corporation and far be it from me to draw the attention away from the real crimes this soulless organization has committed.

I’m sure the fact that when you click on Rupert Murdoch’s Wikipedia page you are immediately redirected to the Amazon entry for my latest novel is purely a technical hiccup and will be straightened out soon.

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Advice for Appearing Before The Parliamentary Committee

18 Jul

Remember when you were little and got into trouble? Maybe you were passing notes in class or were caught sneaking back into your bedroom window past your curfew. There’s that split second when the light goes on or the door opens and you hear that adult voice asking, “What are you doing?” and you know they know the answer to the question and that the whole world’s going to be crashing down on you momentarily and there’s not a single thing you can do to stop it. It may be one of the most horrible feelings in the universe.

Being “invited” to appear before a parliamentary committee investigating a  scandal of this magnitude is at least five or six times worse than that feeling. I can barely imagine it.

But then again I can barely imagine most of things this lot has done.

However, this has got to be a little nerve-wracking for them. Maybe not as nerve-wracking as getting your hopes up that your missing daughter is still alive because a journalist has deleted her voicemails, but still pretty worrying.

Although I have never been put into this position myself (it’s actually relatively easy to stay out of trouble like this), I do have some advice which Mssrs Murdoch and Mrs Brooks might want to take on board for tomorrow.

Don’t worry too much about how you look: everyone already hates you so you won’t be winning over any hearts by dressing “innocently.” Rebekah, the red hair—it is what it is; people might make jokes about it, but the truth is, it’s not your red hair but the moral vacuum behind your eyes which is your worst physical trait.

It appears that your primary concern is “avoiding self-incrimination.” This isn’t going to be as simple as it sounds. In America, they’ve got a little trick called “pleading the Fifth,” which means you can refuse to answer any question—this is because no one can be forced into giving self-incriminating evidence. It’s legal and I suppose there are cases where it’s probably a good thing: maybe a witness could put a drug dealer into jail, but because she once bought a joint off him and is therefore also guilty of a crime, she might refuse to incriminate herself. However, ask almost anyone who has seen a witness plead the Fifth and the first assumption that is made is that she is GUILTY—probably of even worse things than she is trying to hide.

Now the particular issues which are bound to be raised tomorrow are a bit heavier than a spliff or two. They’re actually rather mind-blowing (I would list them but I already know that you know), and appearing to be focused only on your own future is not going to make you smell too sweet. This isn’t just about Sienna Miller, you know? This is about big, bad, and horrible things. Sitting in a silence or refusing to answer or redirecting the questions is not advised.

At the same time, I would not suggest you do what’s been done in previous committee hearings, which is to deny and lie. The jig, as they say, is up. I don’t want to see a repeat of this tomorrow, and I bet you don’t either, because face it, it’s pretty humiliating:

Shameful.

So, what are you to do, you ask? You are indeed in a bit of a pickle. I’m afraid that there’s really only one option for you: say what you knew and when you knew it. If it makes you look bad, you are bad, and you deserve everything that you get.

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Students—You Gotta Love And/Or Hate ‘Em

14 Nov

I always find myself in a bit of a sticky situation when discussing students and their financial woes, because I grew up in America, where they do everything bigger, including their student debt. This year there are more than 100 higher ed institutions in the US charging over $50,000 a year for tuition, fees and room and board (for those of you who failed your maths O-levels, that’s about £31,000). Fees vary, obviously, and also increase for out-of-state students. This total does not even factor in the required books and other supplies, VD treatment, bail money or legal fees for when students take professors to court for not giving them the grades they wanted. We’re talking big bucks here, people. Although financial aid and loans are available, the price is so high that a deal with the devil is often the only option. This explains why most US university students are soulless twats.

But English higher education has never been run in this way, so far be it from me to make a comment—as you know, I never speak on things on which I am not an expert on.

However, the protest raised one issue that affects all of us, and that is the issue of hypocrisy. Let’s take a hypothetical situation. Let’s say you have a country where three major political parties win most of the elections. Let’s say the third party, while admittedly holding far fewer seats than the other two, represents the possibility of change to much of the electorate: a belief that just maybe we could have a party in power whose policies were, I don’t know, let’s say, more “liberal” than the status quo of the two other parties, who seem to grow more and more like each other each year. Then through some odd twist of fate, the leader of that third party (just to keep the story simple I’ll give this character the name “Nick”), through some bizarre aligning of the stars, a global financial disaster and the scary smile of the incumbent, Nick somehow actually becomes Deputy Prime Minister. Hurrah! say the electorate, we are going to finally have a little bit of influence on the way things are run. This man, this Nick, he made promises—maybe even signed pledges—that if he were ever in power, he’d do right by us.

Then he didn’t.

Maybe we’d believe that this hypothetical Nick wanted to stop certain policies but just got outvoted. Maybe he would say, I have not abandoned my principles—I just don’t have enough power to overrule.

But imagine he didn’t say that. Imagine instead that he said, on reflection, he wasn’t being careful when he made the pledge, that now he knows he should have been promising the exact opposite of what he pledged. In fact, now that the older boys in the blue ties have explained everything to him, he actually reckons their ideas are more progressive than his party’s.

Now in my little story, I imagine quite a few of us would feel pretty cross at our Nick. Maybe cross enough even to, hypothetically of course, bust out a few windows and throw a few things around. It wouldn’t fix things and would probably lead to our arrests, but the anger itself would not be an inappropriate response.

Tens of thousands of students showing up at Millbank Tower Wednesday has had two important and hopefully long-lasting effects: 1. it proved that the younger generation is not apathetic and will speak up against hypocrisy and 2. because so many students were otherwise occupied, downloads of that lady’s gaga music dipped drastically. Both of these can only be good things.

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Once, Twice, Three Times A Loser, Lady

3 Nov

What’s the likelihood that we’ve finally seen the end of Christine O’Donnell? After losing the Delaware Senate race three times, I think even the Little Engine That Could would probably say fuck it, I give up. Fingers crossed, little Miss Not-A-Witch moves on to a more appropriate career (my advice: look into medical transcription, it’s steady pay, relatively easy to learn and requires no knowledge of the Constitution).

I am so grateful that I was able to travel to Washington, DC to participate in the Rally to Restore Sanity. Even though I wasn’t pleased with all the outcomes of this midterm election, the day I spent on the National Mall with sensible and (mostly) sexy Americans gives me hope that so many (over six billion, according to Stephen Colbert) of our citizens still believe that critical thinking, rather than ranting from the media and the nutters, should guide their decisions.

The message of the Rally was to take things down a notch–stop shouting and calling names and start listening and thinking (a message I was politely trying to pass onto those border police, but they were having none of it). The placards that many people carried were perfect: clever and funny, as you know, are two of my favourite characteristics.

This is partly why I find Jon Stewart so delicious. However, I do have a slight bone to pick with him. On the big screen, he showed cars merging as they entered the Lincoln Tunnel:

“These cars — that’s a school teacher who thinks taxes are too high…there’s a mom with two kids who can’t think about anything else…another car, the lady’s in the NRA. She loves Oprah…An investment banker, gay, also likes Oprah…a Latino carpenter…a fundamentalist vacuum salesman…a Mormon Jay Z fan…But this is us. Everyone of the cars that you see is filled with individuals of strong belief and principles they hold dear — often principles and beliefs in direct opposition to their fellow travelers.

And yet these millions of cars must somehow find a way to squeeze one by one into a mile-long, 30-foot wide tunnel carved underneath a mighty river…And they do it. Concession by concession. You go. Then I’ll go. You go, then I’ll go. You go, then I’ll go — oh my god, is that an NRA sticker on your car, an Obama sticker on your car? Well, that’s OK. You go and then I’ll go… Sure, at some point there will be a selfish jerk who zips up the shoulder and cuts in at the last minute. But that individual is rare and he is scorned, and he is not hired as an analyst.

Because we know instinctively as a people that if we are to get through the darkness and back into the light we have to work together and the truth is, there will always be darkness.  And sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t the promised land. Sometimes it’s just New Jersey.  But we do it anyway, together.”

New Jersey is not the promised land? Mr Stewart, use those sexy fingers to dial my number and I will personally escort you to the Shangri-La that lies within the borders of the Garden State.

But he’s right about that tunnel, it is a bitch. Especially when you’re in a hurry, it’s tempting to slide up that shoulder, wiggle your bumper and smile at the lonely businessman in the Beemer to push your way in. But it doesn’t work when drivers do that. Sometimes things take time. Sometimes you have to wait more than forty five minutes to get through that tunnel. Sometimes you have to wait more than two years to clean up the messes the previous administration and a global financial crisis left behind. America elected (kind of) George Dubya for eight years, yet so many have expected Obama to get it all sorted so quickly. I know he’s younger and ever so fit, but be realistic—he may not have accomplished everything yet, but he’s made a start.

The election is over and choices have been made. I beg all winners to remember the lessons the Rally taught us. Stop gerrymandering, filibustering and all those other five-syllable words that cause a bottleneck on the road to our recovery.  Reach across the aisle, stop shouting and calling names and start listening and thinking.

You go, then I’ll go, you go, then I’ll go. It’s what gets us through.

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Miss Whitt-Wellington Goes to Washington

29 Oct

Advance apologies for my upcoming absence. I am traveling to Washington DC this weekend.

The first reason for my trip is to attend the Rally to Restore Sanity (or to Keep Fear Alive, depending on my mood). After reading about the crazies who have been gathering in our nation’s capital, like bloody snot after a blow to the nose, I wanted to check in with the saner Americans I know are the backbone of the country. (I forgive the rest of England for being unaware of this fact; it makes sense given the fact that in the UK, being anti-American is seen as both “big” and “clever.” After all, even our dear Auntie tolerates, nay celebrates, it.)

Jon Stewart’s rally is being held to help restore a little sanity to the country. It’s there to remind us that it’s not only those with big, fat mouths and stupid ideas who count; those of us who know how to use indoor voices and our critical thinking skills deserve to be heard as well. Thousands of Americans will be taking to the National Mall to make a point on a variety of issues—national, political as well as “other.”

Note: I’m impressed with the creativity and true commitment displayed in the signs many attendees have prepared for the event. However, I have a number of harsh words for the brainbox who made this one:

My second reason for visiting is to cast my vote in the November election. Just because it’s not about the presidency doesn’t mean this election isn’t important. Alas, I cannot be sure that my absentee ballot would be fairly counted after recent years’ debacles so I’m afraid I’ve got to make the trip over.  Attention all Americans living in Britain: do the morally right thing and catch a quick transatlantic flight so you too can participate—remember, voting in America is a privilege not a right, and if you’re privileged, your vote matters even more. Yes, doing so may add almost 300 tonnes of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, but if you care about our world, you’ll make the sacrifice. (Luckily, I’m flying by private jet which, according to Sting, actually helps the environment.)

Christopher has never been to Washington DC, so I’ll also be taking out a little time from my busy schedule of shaping America’s political landscape to show him a few of the sights. Actually, I’d love to stop by the DC Zoo to see the area where I first became a woman; I know Christopher would like to get some photos there.

Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone. And to any would-be burglars: don’t get smart. Although Christopher and I will be away, the house will not be empty. I’ve arranged for my dear friend Alice Wintergarden to stay here: she may be small but she does pack heat. (Her house, on the other hand, will be vacant, though keep in mind her taste in jewellery is appalling.)

Christopher informs me that this is our one hundredth post on Everyone Needs An Algonquin. Thank you to the fans who have been there since the beginning—while we cherish all of you, the truth is your first loves always hold a special place in your heart (sometimes lodging themselves dangerously near the aortic opening). Happy 100th to us all.

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Brother v. Brother: It Only Works If It’s Sexy

26 Sep

I must confess I cannot be bothered to travel to Manchester for the Labour Party conference. I was slightly disappointed that I missed Gordon Brown coming on to the song “Soul Man,” if only because I’m convinced he was dancing Blues Brothers’ style to psych himself up backstage. I imagine his moves were more Elwood than Jake, but either way, that was something I was hoping to see before I die.

The main reason I have decided to stay away, though, is the whole party leadership contest, as I wanted no part of it.  I found the whole Miliband against Miliband thing quite distasteful. It’s not that I’m against a little healthy sibling rivalry. I quite like when Serena and Venus play against each other, and I frequently daydream of William and Harry oiling up and wrestling for the crown. But the two Milibands? Gross.

Of course, my interest in party politics is not limited to how it affects me in the trouser department. After the last election we learned that any of the party leaders may actually help run the country (or at least end up posing for photo ops implying that they do). So what’s the best way to decide who should be in charge? Let’s face it—none of the three parties have made very clever choices the last few goes. If I ran the world (and I still can’t get my head round the fact that I do not), to become the leader of any political party, one has to show well in the most important of all political arenas in Britain: a guest spot on Have I Got News for You. If that were the case, the decision for each party would be dead simple:

 

 

 

 

 

I’m not interested in any of these three fellows tending my lady garden, but at least they make me laugh and that’s got to count for something.

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American Woman, Mama, Let Me Be

17 Sep

Since I’ve been in this country, I’ve taken a fair amount of ribbing about being American. Fair enough. There are many things that America has been responsible for, especially in recent times, that anyone with half a brain would recognise as shameful.

That’s why I was so proud of Americans when they voted in Barack Obama as their first African-American president.  So often, being the first of a certain race or gender to get into a position of power is only possible if one is extremely conservative; well, I say conservative but of course what I mean is pure evil. They break barriers, but the legacies they leave behind them are disastrous. So when, in November 2008, Americans voted in a black man who is intelligent, thoughtful, liberal and not pure evil, I was well-impressed.

Now it’s time for American women to step up to the plate and say, Yes, we can, too. Sarah Palin will always bear the honours of being the first female Alaskan governor and GOP candidate for the vice-presidency—we can’t change her Wikipedia entry now. But what I was hoping to see was sensible American women getting themselves together and making their voices heard. Alas, this has not occurred.

In fact the very opposite has happened and it’s getting my goat something proper. Have a scan of the US political news and the women you will see they are even scarier than Mrs Thatcher because, in addition to being evil, they are also ignorant as all get out (a combination even more dangerous than Pop Rocks and 7-Up ).

American women, as one of your own, I beg of you, do not let the Brewers, the Palins, the O’Donnells and the Bachmanns speak for you. What are you waiting for—things to get worse? When people in other countries picture an American woman’s face, don’t let it be one wearing those ridiculous spectacles. Put an intelligent American woman into office.

Do it for Susan B Anthony. Do it for Elizabeth Cady Stanton. Do it for your children. Do it for yourselves.

And for Christ’s sake, do it for me. Do you know how hard it is for an American woman to get laid around here these days?

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