My dissertation...and the worst sound in the world.

I met with my dissertation tutor on Friday (my birthday, in fact!) and we hashed out a topic for me to do a dissertation on. I'm going to do my dissertation on the thought of John Gray, which will be very interesting, I think. I'm reading a book by Gray right now called Straw Dogs. Gray's main argument is that humanism is a secular religion with its own dogmas, based on a fallacious idea of human progress which has no scientific or historical basis. Whether or not one agrees with the ideas it certainly makes for an interesting book. I have read parts of his other book False Dawn, which is also very interesting, and says that Globalization isn't going to be the Panacea that we were hoping for, but not for the same reason that stupid hippies and Trotskyites think.

Regarding the second part of my title for this blog, tonight I went to a play. It was called How many miles to Basra?. I was apprehensive about going to a play with that title because I was worried that it might be a crappy play, that relied on the charity of ardent left-wingers and anti-war people, rather than on its own merit as a piece of drama. The play was actually not bad, and avoiding appeals to the audience's political colours almost entireley. There was one stupid part where the playwright tried to compare the invasion of Achaemenid Persia by Alexander to the US/British invasion of Iraq, with references of "you Westerners" against "us Easterners". I hate that bull-crap. The wars of the Greek Empire are as unlike the wars of today as they could be. There is no continuous narrative leading from then to now, and there is no point in comparisons.

Anyhow, what I'm trying to say is that the worst sound in the world is what I experience whenever I go to the theatre: the forced laughs of theatre patrons. These can always be heard from the same people, at points that are meant to seem 'clever' or 'enlightened'. These moments are almsot without exception not-funny. Political correctness isn't funny. The most grating part of the forced theatre patron laugh is the self-righteousness and "in the know" enlightedness. The tool forcing his chuckle seems to think he is in on a secret joke shared only by him, the actor, and the playwright. He thinks that everyone else is thinking "hmmm, I wonder what was funny? That fellow laughing must be very clever and well educated." Anyways, that's what you get for going to a play that is so topical politically I guess. My brother in law gave me money for my birthday to go see a play with Beth. I'm going to go see one called Wolves in the Walls. It's about a house with Wolves in the walls. I'm hoping there will be no opportunities in it for fake laughing. Just the good kind of jokes, the ones that reinforce stereotypes, or else slapstick. Perhaps with some abstract craziness.

P.S. - My birthday curry was AWESOME! I can't wait to go back. £6.99 for all I could eat of the most delicious food I've ever had. In England a Big Mac meal costs $5, so £6.99 is a bargain! The effect on my digestive systems was exactly that described by Ryan Jeffries: noxious fumes from my butt; but certainly worth it, just like he said. I will be going back ASAP!