Posts by Christopher Dempsey
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And hohohohomophobia...
Are you trying to out Santa or something?
I wish. For reasons I can't fathom it's a 'tic' I picked up in the late 80s when I was coming out. The use of the 'hohoho' indicates nervousness hence a gay using it is being ironic.
Where's the irony button?
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* To work this out properly you can't simply multiply 0.015 by 30, but should multiply the probability that any given player is straight 30 times, or
p(no gay players) = .985^30
p(at least one gay player) =1-p(no gay players) ~ 0.36Dude, where were you when I was asking for stats help on Twitter (I did pure maths, no stats)
Doesn't your equation assume that they are selected from a general population and not from a particular group of rugby players? Same goes for the 15 All Blacks in history.
Also, 64% is still a good bet against. (I know I'm getting my percents and probabilities mixed).
Personally I think 1.5% is too high, based on survey bias. But we'll stick with it.
AND
After thinking and discussing with my statistically adept partner: 0.36 is the probability of there being a gay player on the team if they are selected at random form the general population. And no matter what you might think of Graham Henry I'm fairly sure he doesn't do that.
The same goes for the average 8.8 players per year who join the All Blacks (1,100 players over 125 years). There is a probability of 0.125 of one of them being a gay player only if they are selected at random from the general population.
Hayden, darling, maths did my head in at school. I plumped for the easy stats; I assume, like Jojo and her mates, that everyone is a fag until proven otherwise. Easy peasy.
I've heard stories about gay All Blacks, and have heard names, some which are plainly not true, some which plainly are (and boys? the existence of a wedding ring doesn't prove sexuality). There are gay All Blacks, just as there are gay athletes in all sorts of fields. And gays in all sorts of political parties. And in all sorts of mechanical engineering fields. In fact, anywhere and everywhere. Which only goes to prove that being a freaking fabulous hohohomosexual is mindnumbingly normal - we are everywhere.
It's the heterosexual's that are freakingly abnormal.
And hohohohomophobia? Clearly it's a major problem and a major cause of illness in our communities, but clearly, for some gay men, they are able to navigate or 'mitigate' it to a degree that enables them to become elite athletes. Witness Gareth Thomas. His desire to be an elite rugby player clearly outweighed any kind of hohohomophobia.
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And then of course, who knew, but it sneaks up on you. The way the landscape flows so languidly down to the Manukau Harbour from One Tree Hill. The stauchness of the North Shore's suburbs, perched up behind tall imposing sandstone cliffs. The smell of Vicky Ave - that peculiar combination of oak leaves, red volcanic rock crushed small and the moist mugginess of an Auckland summer's afternoon. The sneaky pretend of a winter's day, teasing, but you know that it'll never be a Dunedin or Wellington no matter how hard the wind blows.
Who knew? The way the houses are artfully arranged along the street - those lovely Edwardian houses. The families they've housed. The puff puff curse that hill! as you ride up it, knowing that it's a volcanic lava flow. The caves beneath our feet - having been in one recently, Thanks Graeme! - how they lie, silent, with the faint sheen of others doing what we did - explore them.
Who knew? Am I really falling in love with Auckland Tamaki Makaurau?
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Also the flower spike of my Poor Knight's Lily, which emerged for the first time in 8 years (they can take 10 years or more to first flower).
You have one as well?! Ours flowered for the first time about three weeks ago - I was so excited having been told that they flower once every 13 years or so. I took many photos. It's gone a deep purple now.
I'm not a patch on you guys in terms of articulating LOVE (or indeed, anything that PAS may throw out). But ahh, love. Indeed. Buried in the deep recesses of my mind.
I fell in love with a beautiful boy - he was English, sent out to live with his uncle. He was so different - smoked some, wagged school some (we were in 6th form), was so pushy in some ways. And so lonely, like me. No wonder we bonded. He knew I was gay but was so fucken relaxed about it. He didn't care. We sped down the beach on a motorbike, and hid in the sand dunes smoking a ciggie he had.
Then something happened. I can't remember what. Something I said or did. He stopped hanging out with me. I was so cut up but proud as well. Ahh the stupidity of the young, such privilege. For a year we avoided each other. I cracked at the end of the year, two days before he flew back to England. He came over and we chatted a wee bit and I gave him a present. He walked back up the drive in a light rain - in that lovely December light that you get in the late afternoon.
Fast forward three years. I flew to London to visit family, and one freezing winters day, managed to get the train to High Wycombe, and a bus to where he lived (all in pre-internet 'google' days!). I stood outside mute. And turned around to catch the bus back to the train station. Ahhh love. So mysterious.
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Yet PAS bloggers try & convince themselves that there views represent majority widespread public opinion. They don't! Anyone who doesn't agree with PAS status quo on any of the above is ridiculed & condemned with sarcasm.Widespread public opinion is condemned here. PAS doesn't care as its anti democratic.
Is it me or does the general 'mob' not have any sense of irony?
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Fly my Pretties.
That was a good show. Fortunately, there were more than enough good happy people to move about in their seats to get even the most stoic of audience members to tap their fingers.
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The Atheist Bus campaign is getting so many donations that its target has just been doubled to $20,000.
I donated and I'm amazed at how much they have raised so far and how quickly. Obviously there is a deep well of discontent (is that the right word?) about the issue...
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I got at the Grey Lynn Farmers' Market yesterday
Has it at all improved or is it still Kraftbomb with a different name?
Just a note; the Grey Lynn Farmers Market occurs the first three Sundays in the month. The last Sunday is reserved for the Kraftbomb market.
As I found out two Sundays ago.
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You wait for something that's more 'straightforward', dare I say.
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You could try reading a little of that Bernard-Henri Lévy, he'll have you feeling morally superior to just about anyone in no time. Personally, I believe that the vain and vacuous Levy richly deserves the multiple custard pie attacks he's received from entarteur Noël Godin.
I did do a little reading up about Monsieur Levy after I started the book. I guess he'd be the philosophy equivalent of Wodders. Still I think an important point is made by M. Levy - to think about what it means to be 'Left'.