Welcome

Welcome to Rialto. This is a blog where I hope you will find something of interest to you. I work in Further Education and my hope is to supplement my work in the classroom with extras and advice. I also like to dabble in creative writing and you will find bits and pieces along the way. Feel free to subscribe or pass by again and you may find something of interest.
John.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Osama Bin Laden-RTE

Osama Bin Laden – RTE
Surely, this is one of the most riveting documentaries to come our way in a while. It details the conclusion of the efforts by the United States to finally capture the world’s most wanted man.
This is a one-thousand piece jigsaw painstakingly put together bit by bit, but even at the final hour, the intelligence picture is still somewhat out of focus. Is the tall figure – the 'Pacer', that strolls nonchalantly in the compound, that lies inconspicuously within Pakistani borders, Bin Laden. At best 50-50.
American Intelligence has gotten hold of information that suggests a courier high up in Al Quaeda is within their sights. Intelligence gleaned from Guantanamo Bay, where attempts are made to put the Americans off his scent, only serve to amplify their suspicions that something is awry. The CIA is on to him, and what is assembled is a technological and human project aimed at following his every breath. Satellite photographs, 'drone' aircraft and spies on the ground are all over him like a cheap, badly-fitting suit.
The ‘Kuwaiti’, as he becomes known, eventually leads the Americans to the compound. This is a curious place. Kids playing cricket outside are given money instead of their ball back! High wire fences and no telecommunications infrastructure all add to US' suspicions. The 'Kuwaiti is in and out. The satellites turn their gaze onto what may be Bin Laden’s lair. Spies inconspicuously move in nearby and log the compound’s inhabitants 24-hour existence.
Lo and behold, a tall figure emerges daily --  the ‘Pacer’? Is this their man? Amazingly, satellite photos of the figure and his shadow along with the angle of elevation towards the sun are applied to a trigonometric formula to see can they confirm this man’s height at 6 feet 4inches, Bin Laden’s known height. Inconclusive!
Back on American soil the briefings to Obama are coming thick and fast. Navy SEAL officers meanwhile are training in a mock-up of the  Pakistani compound in Nevada. Unerring details of the building in Abbotabad, from door widths to stairwell heights to operating in near-darkness conditions are factored in to their preparation for what could be the biggest mission of their lives. They do not who their prey is. That’s the least of their worries. The project and its minutiae of detail is what matters.
Things quickly move on. An objective view of the intelligence is sought to filter out any bias that could have infected those who have worked so intensively gathering the intelligence. The outsiders' objective conclusion is a probability of 40% that Bin Laden is the central actor in the compound. This is a significantly lower level of probability than that the CIA had come up with.
Obama believes its probably 50-50. Ultimately, the decision is his. Does the US encroach on foreign soil in what could easily be construed as an act of war to execute a plan that could go awry? Obama sleeps on it.
The 44th President of the US concludes it’s ‘worth a shot.' The orders are given.
Back in Afghanistan, the cry has gone up. The senior officers inform their men the target is Osama Bin Laden!  2 Black Hawk helicopters specially adapted to avoid radar are loaded up with the trappings of such a raid. Most importantly on a moonless night a crack team of the most highly trained human beings (and dogs!) are heading to Abbotabad. The tension for the viewer is unbearable.
Back in the White House, Obama alongside his closest aides and military intelligence officers are gathered in a room with communication relayed by the CIA of every move the mission takes.
Black Hawk down! One of the helicopters goes down caught in an atmospheric vortex. Breaths are held but those on board are okay. The prospect of something like this had been computed into the operation. Now, rather than the building being breached from top and below everything has to take place from the ground up.
The SEALS are in. They’ve got 30 minutes. The helicopter crash causes a stir on Twitter. The SEALS move along. They confront a man and woman. They are taken out. Immediately they are identified as the ‘Kuwaiti' and his wife. A door is torn open to reveal a block wall. This is then blown out and the crack team are inside. Next down is the Kuwaiti’s brother. They make their way up the stairwell. One more down: Bin Laden’s son. Finally they are confronted by what could be their man. They fire and miss. He flees. They pursue. Could he be armed? Could he 'suicide-bomb' them? They corner him in a room. A woman screams. She is shot in the leg. The man is shot in the chest and head. Dead.
But is it their man? To check his height a SEAL of similar height lies down beside him. Photographs are taken of his face and relayed back to base  to be forensically analysed.  A back up Chinook chopper is sent to carry away the men and any Al Quaeda intelligence in the form of files and computer hardware.
Bin Laden’s remains are taken to an aircraft carrier on the Arabian Sea. DNA samples are taken. His body is washed and given due care according to the edicts of the Islam faith.
Finally he is buried at sea.
President Barack Obama announces to the world that Osama Bin Laden was killed by American Special Forces in a planned operation.

Catch up with this riveting drama RTE next Tuesday 28th August at 10:05pm.



Saturday, August 6, 2011

Giving and receiving...

This is a nice story about giving and receiving. A man had fallen down a well;
people had gathered around the mouth of the well and were reaching down to him, saying, “Give me your hand!” But he was not in the habit of giving anything and couldn’t do it, even to save his life. But there was a person there who understood. He reaching down and said, “Take my hand!” Taking was something the man understood, and so he was hauled to safety. The story shows that there is no difference between giving and receiving – except for a miser, who sees them as opposites.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Dennis Potter and Rupert Murdoch

The Tragedy of Shylock

W. Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice comes to a gripping climax in the first scene of the penultimate act where the main protagonists are gathered in a Venetian Court of Justice.


Shylock, the much maligned Jewish moneylender stands ready to claim his ‘pound of flesh’, as his bond with the merchant Antonio has been forfeited.


I find that I am sympathetic to Shylock’s plight. Here we have a loathed Jew, ostracised, and a mere utility in Bassanio’s frivolous endeavours to become the victorious suitor for Portia’s hand. Antonio has stupidly and arrogantly played into Shylock’s hands by agreeing to such a foolish bond in his efforts to support Bassanio’s desires.


Yes, Shylock is certainly avaricious, a grotesque character, a caricature of the Jewish race that finds itself removed from mainstream society. Is it any wonder they resort to usury in an attempt to survive, economically ghettoised as they are?


The Merchant, declares Shylock Act 3 Scene 1 has ...'mocked at my gains, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies, - and what’s his reason? I am a Jew...'

Why, Shylock even appeals to the Christians about their common humanity... ‘If you prick me do I not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die'? ... But all this falls on deaf ears.


Shylock along with fellow Jews are essentially pariahs and to this end, despite Shylocks almost irrational rage, my sympathies lie with him.




Shylock has been further humiliated earlier in the play when his daughter Jessica not only elopes with his wealth and his betrothal ring, but with the Christian, Lorenzo.


Now with Antonio’s shipping ventures gone awry, Shylock is in a vengeful mood. He has rationalised such a desire... ‘If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrongs a Jew what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why revenge,’ the villainy you teach me I will execute...’ (Act 3, Scene 1).


In a curious and somewhat humorous turn of events, Portia, disguised as the male lawyer Balthazar, has replaced Bellario. She has read her brief and what follows, for me, is a gripping courtroom exchange between herself and Shylock.


Despite pleadings to Shylock to show mercy at the last hour he holds up the lawfulness of his case and upon adherence to the law stands the reputation of Venice.


Shylock’s case is,it seems, watertight.




Portia agrees with Shylock that his ‘suit’ while of a ‘strange nature’, the ‘Venetian law cannot impugn you as you do proceed...’


However, in what has to be one of the most beautiful and profound passages in the play, Portia appeals to Shylock to show mercy ... ‘It is an attribute to God himself. And earthly power doth then show likest God’s When mercy seasons justice’.


Shylock seized by a desire for retribution is having none of it... ‘I crave the law.’


The exchanges between them continue until finally Portia ensnares Shylock. He may have his bond but dare he draw a morsel of Christian blood he is ruined. Shylock relents, but by dint of his mere desire to seek Antonio’s life he finds himself hoist upon his own petard.
‘For as thou urgest justice, be assured, thou shalt have justice more than thou desirest,’ Portia triumphantly states.


Mercy may drop as gently as the rain from heaven, but there is none accorded to Shylock from the Christian quarter. His end is ignominious. With his wealth confiscated and forced to convert to Christianity, Shylock is as good as a dead man.


Any twentieth or twenty-first century reading of this play, in my opinion, cannot avoid the influence of the Holocaust and that inspires compassion towards the plight of this complex and flawed Jewish caricature.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Kenny pledges no income tax increase in budget - The Irish Times - Thu, Jun 16, 2011

Kenny pledges no income tax increase in budget - The Irish Times - Thu, Jun 16, 2011


You read it here. Let's check this again at Christmas.
He's probably being circumspect. Every indirect tax you can think of will be put up. And they are highly regressive. Regardless of income you pay the same VAT, parking charges, etc etc.

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Fear No More by William Shakespeare


Fear no more the heat o' the sun;
Nor the furious winter's rages,
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney sweepers come to dust.

Fear no more the frown of the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke:
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor the all-dread thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan;
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!

Friday, June 10, 2011

In the context of...

In the context of...
Another cursed phrase is sentenced to be committed to the bank of expressions  that must qualify as the most overused, clichéd, hackneyed and downright annoying idioms that just keeps cropping up in the political and economic discourse that holds sway.
I’m always suspicious of its use. What does it really mean? Surely in the context of sensible and reasonable debate it is just not necessary. In the context of trying to communicate in an interesting and meaningful way surely one should endeavour to embroider their words with something colourful, different and even poetic. Oh no, in the context of lazy, overused, unimaginative discourse it just keeps  being repeated to the point of a needle, in the context  of  vinyl  recordings, being jammed in the groove.
Good Lord, in the context of Christian mercy please deliver us from the awful phrase that in the context of human history  never has such an expression been used so much and meant so little.
So in the context of concluding my tirade and in that context can I make an appeal to all those that, in the context of meaningful communication; that those who wish to communicate concisely and intelligently, please in the context of solidarity with your fellow humans stop using such an overused, verbal convolution.

Al Pacino on Qwiki

View Al Pacino and over 3,000,000 other topics on Qwiki.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Fair-Trade

There is a coffee outlet in London's South Bank called Costa Coffee and it's a seriously busy outlet. They sell a Fairtrade brand of coffee from a company called Café Direct who promise to offer the coffee farmers a good price for their coffee: typically a premium or extra payment of between 40p and 50p a pound of coffee which according to The Undercover Economist (2007) can mean a doubling of income for the farmer from around $2000 to $4000.

Okay,fair enough but let's look at the maths a bit closer. Costa coffee charges an extra 10p per cup of fair-trade coffee. Now it takes a 1/4 of an ounce of coffee to make 1 cup of cappuccino so you will typically make 64 cups out of 1 lb of coffee. (16oz’s in a lb, therefore 64 x 1/4 ounces). So Costa Coffee make about 6.40 per lb of coffee and yet the farmer gets less than 10% of that. Fair-trade how are you!

Nevertheless, in defence of Fair-trade and Costa Coffee, the rent they pay, I imagine, is astronomical. Are we just paying for space to sit down and relax?

Statistics taken from 'The Undercover Economist', Tim Harford, 2007, Publsihed by Little Brown, London

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Taxpayers money versus public money

Taxpayers money versus public money

One phrase that dominates the political and economic lexicon is 'taxpayers' money'.Taxpayers' money this and taxpayers' money that. I believe when we use this terminology we are denigrating the governmental and public spheres of political life. We can only appreciate the term 'taxpayers' money' when we consider what its meaning excludes or in a sense, what does this interpretation imply it is not; that is 'public money'. 'Public money' connotes that the taxes we contribute are done so voluntarily and willingly, and are to be pooled and put to the greater public good. By doing so we are supporting law and order, health, education, roads, sewrage systems and gravedigging amongst a plethora of other things you may think of. Taxpayers' money,on the other hand, has connotations that the money is not really the government's to spend. It has been wrenched from the meagre hands of the people without their consent.
Functional government is, I believe, built on consent and we contribute willingly to that system with our monies. We do so because there are some things that market forces will not involve themselves with and we do so because we want to help build a fairer society. Naturally we must ensure that such monies are not wasted. What sensible person would want otherwise?
So, to answer Margaret Thatcher and the other deeply conservative thinkers especially in the United States there is such a thing as public money.

Monday, May 16, 2011

Europe's conundrum

So inflation in the Eurozone is picking up. This probably means France and Germany's economies are doing nicely. This also usually means higher interest rates on the way. And as we all know they've started already. Now the last thing the ailing Irish economy needs is higher interest rates. How come the remedy for high inflation adds to the same inflation? Mortgage costs are factored into the 'basket of goods' that is used to calculate inflation and home loans are always increased by higher money lending rates. And the currency usually increases in value, so exports can be hit.
But back to the Irish economy. Back at the turn of the 90's and 'Noughties' the last thing a roaring Celtic tiger needed was low interest rates which were essentially applied to kick the German economy in the pants,but that's what we got. The government could have instead used higher taxes to temper a red hot economy but no; votes had to be bought. Look where it all ended. Now we're getting high rates along with higher taxes. We haven't two pennies to rub together and the economy is in a rotten state. Where will this all end? European economic integration how are you!

Sunday, May 15, 2011

FA Cup Final 1981 Replay.

After 42 years Manchester City have finally won something. I am happy for all the City fans including myself but however I must admit I am somewhat lapsed.


My love affair with Manchester City started circa 1979 when my father bought me a Man City school bag from Dunnes Stores. It was one of those plasticy bags with a shoulder handle and a zip that stretched across the top of the bag. Critically, emblazoned across one side of the bag was a photograph of the then City team. Now these were the days of fairly ordinary quality. You could just about make out the individual members of the squad but it was nice. It was brand new; a gorgeous sky blue and white trim, and mostly, it was different from the ubiquitous red and white of either United or Liverpool. I was a happy soldier that Saturday evening in Waterford with my new bag and my new status as a rare species- a City fan.


I had supported Newcastle United at one stage with my favourite player tag switching between Malcolm McDonald and Kevin Keegan and flirted with Everton. For some reason I began to hate Everton. Probably something to do with some of the schemers I knew who followed them.


So, fast forward to the season of 1980-81. City had a new manager-one John Bond- a kind of respectable looking fellow with a Ken Barlow hairstyle. He brought a new flair to City and a couple of million pound players. Wonderful players like Denis Tueart, Tommy Caton (RIP), Gerry Gow and Tommy Hutchison; a mixture of youth, flair, experience and a hatchet man. Behind the famous 4-3-3 formation was one Joe Corrigan. Now Joe was my hero. Here was a man who was third-choice England goalkeeper at the time. But keep in mind he was snapping at the heels of England Number 1 Ray Clemence and his number 2: Peter Shilton. These were, in my humble opinion, the best goalkeepers in the world, following in the footsteps of other English goalkeeping greats such as Gordon Banks. Joe Corrigan was England 'B' first-choice and Man City legend.


1980-81 was the season City flourished finishing in the top few of the First Divison but most of all participating in the FA Cup Final of that year. This was when the FA Cup was a wonderful world-class tournament second only to the English League First Division. The third round draw was eagerly anticipated. City saw off Notts County, Bristol City, Norwich and a wonderful semi-final against Ipswich at Villa Park. A Paul Power spectacular listened to on a hazy BBC Radio 2 reception. Bliss.


So when you're at school and your team are in the Cup Final it's just great. That Saturday in May is a day to be cherished. RTE piggy-back on the superb coverage of the BBC where the cameras are knocking around team buses, dressing rooms and displaying Wembley in all its glory. This is your team's day. John Motson is set to one side to make way for the dulcet tones of Jimmy Magee and City all of a sky blue led by John Bond and captain Paul Power make their way onto the baize-like turf. They are accompanied by one Tottenham Hotspur quite simply a wonderful team captained by Steve Perryman and with brilliant striking pair of Steve Archibald and Garth Brooks, Glen flippin Hoddle and post-Peron, pre-default Argentinian stars Ricky Villa and Ossie Ardiles. Don't remind me!


City took the lead with a Tommy Hutchison cracker. A header from about a mile out. Paradise. Corrigan kept Spurs at bay with a man of the match performance and then when it looked like City might just hold on there was a crack at goal, it deflected off Tommy Hutchison and past Corrigan into the City net. "Ah it's an OG from the man who scored the first" wailed Jimmy Magee. Devastation. A bloody draw. Replay that following Thursday night.


I reflected it could have been worse and settled into looking forward to another all City-Spurs spectacular. And that it was.

Villa put Spurs in the lead. Steve McKenzie drew level with a screaming volley from from 25 yards. A converted penalty for Kevin Reeves put City ahead and soon Spurs evened matters with an Archibald- Crooks manafactured effort. Not for the faint -hearted this match. And then sheer Tottenham brilliance, Argentinian style. Ricky Villa wrenched his way around the City penalty area and shot under Corrigan to drive the North Londoners wild. This was a serious winning goal. Keith Hackett blew the final whistle and City were dejected. I was shocked that City were beaten. I cried bitter tears. I was inconsolable. Imagine how the players felt.

Not an hour after the game the front door bell rang and some so called friends were at the door. One was draped in a Tottenham scarf. My brother sincerely informed them that I was 'upset' and had been 'crying' This was all I needed. I just faced the music. I hadn't much choice.

My only consolation was that City had given a good account of themselves and good old Joe Corrigan was again named Man of the Match testament to his brilliance and probably Tottenham's dominance.

In the year of the Cockerel 1981, Tottenham took the most coveted prize in football.

And now here we are in 2011 and City finally lift the cup. It's not the same for me. Money has delivered it but sure that's the order of things today. I am content. I am happy for the true blues I know.

So Robbie 'Jinks' Flynn, Alec Hayden and Ivan Yates, God forbid, take a bow City have delivered.