Every year after Christmas, in the week leading up to New Year's Eve/Day, I find there's a lull in people's life as they try to recover. Eating too much, drinking too much, doing too much; it all catches up to you. That late night on Christmas Eve when you were wrapping presents until the wee hours of the morning, that huge meal on Christmas Day that made you think you'd never have to eat again or the evening of drinking away everything else except the family and friends you were celebrating with. After that, everyone needs a break, right?
I did not drink this Christmas but was definitely guilty of the other two. And yes, I wanted a week to chill out before having to do all the wild things expecting of a young man on New Year's.
But what about the people who had a terrible Christmas? The people who went to see family they don't really get on with out of some sense of tradition and responsibility that has nothing to do with the spirit of Christmas? All those people who sat around in a room with people they barely talk to any other day of the year making sad, awkward little conversations while they desperately try to pass the time?
Or worse, in my opinion, the people who had no one to be with on Christmas. What about them? The people who woke up on the 25th and had no one to spend it with, and nothing to do except try to find a way to escape their loneliness?
The amount of social and cultural pressure that Christmas hammers onto people, or our society hammers on people around Christmas is crazy and unnecessary. Yes, it's nice to get presents and see people happy when they open the one you got them and like it but it's not just about that. What about people who can't afford presents? Or have no one to give them to? Yes, it's nice to spend time with family, but what about those people who's families have suffered schisms or splits where favourites have to be unwillingly chosen or everyone has to pretend everything's okay? What about the people who know they'll be spending Christmas alone but have to watch the depressingly yet reliably repetitive Christmas commercials that emphasize family and togetherness?
I think there's something unfair about Christmas in our world; people shouldn't HAVE to celebrate it. I'm not saying don't, no at all. But why should people feel forced to subscribe to it when they don't believe in it? Or want to celebrate it differently? Or don't have anyone to celebrate it with? Or would plain old just rather do something else? I'm not encouraging people to try and make others forget about Christmas or not celebrate it, no even slightly as that would be the same thing I'm trying to argue against; socio-culutral pressure should not force someone's decision about what to do with their holidays.
I, personally, will always celebrate Christmas because of both my religious and personal beliefs, but to all those people out there who just want to enjoy their holidays: DO IT! I would rather people were happy at Christmas time and remembered it as a good time than conformed to society's norms and made themselves unwilling participants in something which, for them, would be remembered as the least happy time of year, and one that they never looked forward to.
I don't like humbugs but if any friends wish to do so, I'm quite happy to say "Bah, Skittle!" with you.
Wednesday, 30 December 2009
Monday, 14 December 2009
Judgment Not Welcome
Who, out there, has ever been on an internet forum? For anything; academics, topic interest, boredom, anything. That's not what I'm ranting about today.
Today, I hate the people who think the internet is some kind of safe haven or refuge from the plights of their lives and how everyone judges them 'based on who they are'.
Firstly, the internet offers no safety. The internet is the home and hunting ground of the emotional and intellectual predator known as "Anonymous". "Anonymous" is, according to the Laws of the Internet:
3. Anonymous is legion.
4. Anonymous does not forgive, Anonymous does not forget.
5. Anonymous can be a horrible, senseless, uncaring monster.
6. Anonymous is still able to deliver.
It is worth noting that the fact the beast "Anonymous" can deliver is only given after the other three rules, and so is less likely and relevant than the others.
Posting in a forum puts you immediately at risk from attack by "Anonymous". Rule 3: It it legion. Without number. This gives it the huge advantage of being able to be in many - potentially infinite - places at once. No matter how much you love and hide your forum, Anonymous will find it. And the Anonymous will destroy your haven, your refuge.
And Anonymous will judge you. The internet can be accessed by, potentially, everyone. Someone who wants to ruin your life will comment and do their best to achieve this goal.
So we have ascertained that the internet is not somewhere you can hide, or somewhere to pour out your closest loves and fears. This leads on to the second point about being judged; You are always judged. Fact. No-one who forms an opinion of you does not judge you. How else are opinions formed? Without judgment, we couldn't make friends or choose music tastes of really have a conversation. Therefore, we must judge others and be judged in return.
Second, if you don't want to be judged for who you are, what should you be judged on? I mean, honestly. I want to be judged for who I am because I like who I am - if you don't want to be judged on who you are, then you don't like who you are or think you are. Sort it out yourself. Don't whine on the internet about how no body understands you and how terrible your life is and why slitting your wrists it at the same time appealing but depressing.
WE'VE ALL BEEN FOURTEEN AND FIFTEEN BEFORE! We got through it. My suggestions would be stop listening to music played and sung by men who wear skinny jeans and enough eye-liner to drown a camel, and then go out and have a life. Get some freaking sunshine. Vitamin D does wonders for your music taste.
Step Two: Don't post on forums about your emotional insecurities. Anonymous will find, eat and rape them. Maybe in that order.
The next time I see someone begging not to be judged for who they are and trying to explain why emo-music is good for the soul, I'll let Anonymous possess me and do horrible things to you. And your mum, your cat, your favourite band - all at the same time - your music player. Hopefully you get the message.
Failing that threat having import to you, go do half the things you're music sings about. Then you'll have done me a favour and saved me the effort.
Today, I hate the people who think the internet is some kind of safe haven or refuge from the plights of their lives and how everyone judges them 'based on who they are'.
Firstly, the internet offers no safety. The internet is the home and hunting ground of the emotional and intellectual predator known as "Anonymous". "Anonymous" is, according to the Laws of the Internet:
3. Anonymous is legion.
4. Anonymous does not forgive, Anonymous does not forget.
5. Anonymous can be a horrible, senseless, uncaring monster.
6. Anonymous is still able to deliver.
It is worth noting that the fact the beast "Anonymous" can deliver is only given after the other three rules, and so is less likely and relevant than the others.
Posting in a forum puts you immediately at risk from attack by "Anonymous". Rule 3: It it legion. Without number. This gives it the huge advantage of being able to be in many - potentially infinite - places at once. No matter how much you love and hide your forum, Anonymous will find it. And the Anonymous will destroy your haven, your refuge.
And Anonymous will judge you. The internet can be accessed by, potentially, everyone. Someone who wants to ruin your life will comment and do their best to achieve this goal.
So we have ascertained that the internet is not somewhere you can hide, or somewhere to pour out your closest loves and fears. This leads on to the second point about being judged; You are always judged. Fact. No-one who forms an opinion of you does not judge you. How else are opinions formed? Without judgment, we couldn't make friends or choose music tastes of really have a conversation. Therefore, we must judge others and be judged in return.
Second, if you don't want to be judged for who you are, what should you be judged on? I mean, honestly. I want to be judged for who I am because I like who I am - if you don't want to be judged on who you are, then you don't like who you are or think you are. Sort it out yourself. Don't whine on the internet about how no body understands you and how terrible your life is and why slitting your wrists it at the same time appealing but depressing.
WE'VE ALL BEEN FOURTEEN AND FIFTEEN BEFORE! We got through it. My suggestions would be stop listening to music played and sung by men who wear skinny jeans and enough eye-liner to drown a camel, and then go out and have a life. Get some freaking sunshine. Vitamin D does wonders for your music taste.
Step Two: Don't post on forums about your emotional insecurities. Anonymous will find, eat and rape them. Maybe in that order.
The next time I see someone begging not to be judged for who they are and trying to explain why emo-music is good for the soul, I'll let Anonymous possess me and do horrible things to you. And your mum, your cat, your favourite band - all at the same time - your music player. Hopefully you get the message.
Failing that threat having import to you, go do half the things you're music sings about. Then you'll have done me a favour and saved me the effort.
Friday, 11 December 2009
Beauty and the Beast: Revisited
Right, I've just finished this acclaimed Disney ‘masterpiece’ and it’s swiftly becoming quite likeable. I have laughed out loud more than once. It is, admittedly, magnificently flawed but that adds to what its makers call the ‘charm’ of the film.
You can tell it’s a Disney film when ‘evil’ is defined as spoilt, selfish and unkind. I mean, to be honest, that makes almost every aristocrat ever ‘evil’, which is a neat bit of class-warfare propaganda. I mean, come on; he has everything he wants, no wonder he’s spoilt and selfish, and it’s tough to be those two things and not be unkind too. Being honest, the enchantress is far more evil than the prince/beast, as she condemns some poor eleven year old boy to being turned into an animal that looks like many folklore descriptions of the devil for all his life – or ever, the film isn’t clear on that point – simply because he doesn’t let her in when she looks like an old hag and offers to pay rent with a rose.
Really? That’s a legitimate and reasonable thing to do with ones glorious, magical powers? Go around terrorizing pre-teen boys because they don’t understand the concept of inner beauty and/or don’t trust old women? Yes, it’s teaching him an important moral lesson, but she could have done it for, say, a year and then changed him back while threatening to do it again if he didn’t buck up and find some decency. That woman is heartless.
As an aside, where will you find someone who will take in an old lady for the night who offers recompense with flowers? I mean, gypsies give flowers away all the time and you wouldn’t let one in your house, right? Admittedly, you would wake up grateful that they’d brought the flower but that’s only because pretty much everything that wasn’t nailed down would be gone the next morning.
Now the Beast; he’s a little ungrateful for his condition. Yes, he’s not human any more. No, he’s probably not classically attractive to women. But at least he has shiny, healthy fur, super-human strength and agility AND still retains opposable thumbs. I mean, in medieval Europe he could have carved out an empire; he’s already got the castle and everything else he wanted (apparently), a private army shouldn’t be too hard to come by. Plus, at the age of eleven being turned into a hugely strong and fast animal is what a lot of boys pretend to do anyway; realistically, he wouldn’t become depressed until puberty hit hard at about 15-16, and since there are no women in the castle anyway this would be mitigated quite a bit I’d imagine.
That’s another thing; that bitch of an enchantress turned all the prince’s servants into furniture. Now what was that for? What moral lesson does that teach you? Honestly, some people have some warped codes of ethics.
Gaston is very quickly become a bit of a hero for me – he grew up being taught by society what was attractive and, quite wisely to be honest, decided to become the paragon of those virtues. Yes, he’s a bit of a chauvinist and a little insensitive but this is provincial France; what did you expect? Charm? Egalitarianism? Mon Dieu and zoot alors.
Belle is odd. I know there’s a whole song about it at the beginning, but you don’t really understand until later on in the film. Her father, while patently weird, is still in control of his mental faculty and quite rightly points out he’s pretty old anyway and she shouldn’t trade places with him in the Beast’s castle. Then, once she has met the Beast, she decides to be as rude, nosey and rule-breaking as she can be with all the suicidal persistence of manically depressed lemming. She could inherit this trait from her father who, before becoming trapped in the Beast’s castle, decides to take a dark and winding path rather than the straight, well lit one when lost after uttering the famous last words, “This way, don’t worry; it’s a short cut.” I can excuse him somewhat in that, having grown up pre-20th century, he wouldn’t have seen any American horror movies. If he had, he’d know that phrases like, ‘it’s a short cut,’ and ‘let’s split up,’ are nearly always synonymous with ‘we’re all going to die.’
Big, angry beast-person bellows at you not to go into the West Wing. Logical response: Go there. This, in my opinion, is a bit of a cognitive failure.
Oh yeah, and where the hell did Belle learn to read in pre-renaissance provincial France?
Back to her suicidal urges. When she does go into the already forbidden West Wing, she investigate with all the blind hope and willful neglect of personal safety only otherwise found in science fiction characters, computer gamers and the late Steve Irwin, who will go to any lengths and reach any point in the search for something new or shiny.
When she removed the case from the rose, I was reminded horribly of the scene in Alien where the scientist puts his head over the self-opening alien egg to look inside. Sure enough, BAM! The Beast appears and is, surprise, surprise, pretty pissed off. Yes, he has an angry fit but he does have pending psychological worries and a unique physical condition to be concerned about. Belle’s answer to the question, ‘What are you doing here?’ is classically terrible – ‘I’m sorry!’ No explanation.
You can also tell this was set in western France, as the Beast’s castle is massive yet unnoticed. As in vast, huge and colossal at the same time. If this had been the area now known as Germany or further into Eastern Europe, this would never have happened. Instead, pretty soon after the enchantress pulled her nasty little stunt on the prepubescent prince, a mob of peasants with pitchforks and burning torches would have rushed to castle screaming, “Slay ze monster!” Apparently, the inhabitants of nearby villages in France look up at an amazing piece of gothic architecture and just thing, “That’s nice, I wonder who lives there?” and then forget all about it.
This happens later when Gaston saves the day; as soon as he finds out about the Beast, he’s there to protect the village, with courage and keen blade. And lots of fire, the logical weapon of choice when attacking a stone castle. Classic mob mistake, but I'll forgive it; you need to follow tradition, right?
As for the ever present and apparently limitless pack of wolves outside the Beast’s castle, well. They look pretty well fed, glossy coats and all. I doubt they’d attack anything as large and clearly predatory as the beast just to get at Belle and her horse. In fact, they seem pretty intent on decidedly not attacking either of them convincingly; no hamstringing, no surrounding tactics, no normal wolf maneuvers. Maybe French wolves are just less up for violent things. Or maybe the Beast paid them so he could impress Belle. Cunning ploy there.
Gaston let me down at the end by begging for his life. I guess he is French so there was only so long before his courage failed and he had to stab someone in the back.
At the end of the film, suddenly all is forgiven and the castle becomes host to a huge ball – quite where, in the countryside of provincial France, so many well-to-do aristocrats appeared is an interesting question but I’ll let it go for now.
Moral of the story is; if an old woman comes to your door needing a place to stay and all she offers as a thank you is a rose, shoot her.
J.C.
N.B. Firstly, I worked out that the prince was eleven when cursed because the rose would wilt on his 21st birthday and the servants/furniture said they’d been waiting ten years for a girl to come to the castle. Secondly, Fifi the feather duster is hot when she gets turned back into a human. Lucky Lumiere.
You can tell it’s a Disney film when ‘evil’ is defined as spoilt, selfish and unkind. I mean, to be honest, that makes almost every aristocrat ever ‘evil’, which is a neat bit of class-warfare propaganda. I mean, come on; he has everything he wants, no wonder he’s spoilt and selfish, and it’s tough to be those two things and not be unkind too. Being honest, the enchantress is far more evil than the prince/beast, as she condemns some poor eleven year old boy to being turned into an animal that looks like many folklore descriptions of the devil for all his life – or ever, the film isn’t clear on that point – simply because he doesn’t let her in when she looks like an old hag and offers to pay rent with a rose.
Really? That’s a legitimate and reasonable thing to do with ones glorious, magical powers? Go around terrorizing pre-teen boys because they don’t understand the concept of inner beauty and/or don’t trust old women? Yes, it’s teaching him an important moral lesson, but she could have done it for, say, a year and then changed him back while threatening to do it again if he didn’t buck up and find some decency. That woman is heartless.
As an aside, where will you find someone who will take in an old lady for the night who offers recompense with flowers? I mean, gypsies give flowers away all the time and you wouldn’t let one in your house, right? Admittedly, you would wake up grateful that they’d brought the flower but that’s only because pretty much everything that wasn’t nailed down would be gone the next morning.
Now the Beast; he’s a little ungrateful for his condition. Yes, he’s not human any more. No, he’s probably not classically attractive to women. But at least he has shiny, healthy fur, super-human strength and agility AND still retains opposable thumbs. I mean, in medieval Europe he could have carved out an empire; he’s already got the castle and everything else he wanted (apparently), a private army shouldn’t be too hard to come by. Plus, at the age of eleven being turned into a hugely strong and fast animal is what a lot of boys pretend to do anyway; realistically, he wouldn’t become depressed until puberty hit hard at about 15-16, and since there are no women in the castle anyway this would be mitigated quite a bit I’d imagine.
That’s another thing; that bitch of an enchantress turned all the prince’s servants into furniture. Now what was that for? What moral lesson does that teach you? Honestly, some people have some warped codes of ethics.
Gaston is very quickly become a bit of a hero for me – he grew up being taught by society what was attractive and, quite wisely to be honest, decided to become the paragon of those virtues. Yes, he’s a bit of a chauvinist and a little insensitive but this is provincial France; what did you expect? Charm? Egalitarianism? Mon Dieu and zoot alors.
Belle is odd. I know there’s a whole song about it at the beginning, but you don’t really understand until later on in the film. Her father, while patently weird, is still in control of his mental faculty and quite rightly points out he’s pretty old anyway and she shouldn’t trade places with him in the Beast’s castle. Then, once she has met the Beast, she decides to be as rude, nosey and rule-breaking as she can be with all the suicidal persistence of manically depressed lemming. She could inherit this trait from her father who, before becoming trapped in the Beast’s castle, decides to take a dark and winding path rather than the straight, well lit one when lost after uttering the famous last words, “This way, don’t worry; it’s a short cut.” I can excuse him somewhat in that, having grown up pre-20th century, he wouldn’t have seen any American horror movies. If he had, he’d know that phrases like, ‘it’s a short cut,’ and ‘let’s split up,’ are nearly always synonymous with ‘we’re all going to die.’
Big, angry beast-person bellows at you not to go into the West Wing. Logical response: Go there. This, in my opinion, is a bit of a cognitive failure.
Oh yeah, and where the hell did Belle learn to read in pre-renaissance provincial France?
Back to her suicidal urges. When she does go into the already forbidden West Wing, she investigate with all the blind hope and willful neglect of personal safety only otherwise found in science fiction characters, computer gamers and the late Steve Irwin, who will go to any lengths and reach any point in the search for something new or shiny.
When she removed the case from the rose, I was reminded horribly of the scene in Alien where the scientist puts his head over the self-opening alien egg to look inside. Sure enough, BAM! The Beast appears and is, surprise, surprise, pretty pissed off. Yes, he has an angry fit but he does have pending psychological worries and a unique physical condition to be concerned about. Belle’s answer to the question, ‘What are you doing here?’ is classically terrible – ‘I’m sorry!’ No explanation.
You can also tell this was set in western France, as the Beast’s castle is massive yet unnoticed. As in vast, huge and colossal at the same time. If this had been the area now known as Germany or further into Eastern Europe, this would never have happened. Instead, pretty soon after the enchantress pulled her nasty little stunt on the prepubescent prince, a mob of peasants with pitchforks and burning torches would have rushed to castle screaming, “Slay ze monster!” Apparently, the inhabitants of nearby villages in France look up at an amazing piece of gothic architecture and just thing, “That’s nice, I wonder who lives there?” and then forget all about it.
This happens later when Gaston saves the day; as soon as he finds out about the Beast, he’s there to protect the village, with courage and keen blade. And lots of fire, the logical weapon of choice when attacking a stone castle. Classic mob mistake, but I'll forgive it; you need to follow tradition, right?
As for the ever present and apparently limitless pack of wolves outside the Beast’s castle, well. They look pretty well fed, glossy coats and all. I doubt they’d attack anything as large and clearly predatory as the beast just to get at Belle and her horse. In fact, they seem pretty intent on decidedly not attacking either of them convincingly; no hamstringing, no surrounding tactics, no normal wolf maneuvers. Maybe French wolves are just less up for violent things. Or maybe the Beast paid them so he could impress Belle. Cunning ploy there.
Gaston let me down at the end by begging for his life. I guess he is French so there was only so long before his courage failed and he had to stab someone in the back.
At the end of the film, suddenly all is forgiven and the castle becomes host to a huge ball – quite where, in the countryside of provincial France, so many well-to-do aristocrats appeared is an interesting question but I’ll let it go for now.
Moral of the story is; if an old woman comes to your door needing a place to stay and all she offers as a thank you is a rose, shoot her.
J.C.
N.B. Firstly, I worked out that the prince was eleven when cursed because the rose would wilt on his 21st birthday and the servants/furniture said they’d been waiting ten years for a girl to come to the castle. Secondly, Fifi the feather duster is hot when she gets turned back into a human. Lucky Lumiere.
Thursday, 10 December 2009
Self-improvement through re-education.
A lot of my friends have started talking about self-improvement recently. I don't know why; maybe it's because New Year's is coming up and they need resolutions, or they've had an experience that's made them feel unhappy about how they conduct themselves. Personally, I feel self-improvement isn't something that should be talked about, it should just be done.
Well done everyone who goes out (or stays in) and does a good thing everyday. Even better done if you didn't tell anyone about it.
I say this because while good works are all well and, ha ha, good, seeking credit or reward for them undermines the action a little bit in my opinion. If you're only 'self-improving' to be rewarded for it, then really your just self-indulging, right? Yes, you've something good but really you did it for you, so you could get that nice little glow inside. Unfortunately, because it wasn't an honest act of altruism that glow goes away pretty soon and you think, 'What's the point? I didn't get much out of it.'
Which is exactly why you should do things for other people; because then every time you see them you'll get a warm glow inside. Anyone out there who knows me will be a mite suspicious right now as they'll be wondering exactly why I'm talking about this - I don't usually do the charity thing. I'm not afraid to admit it, I like to see the results of my actions. Giving money to a faceless organization that claims to help the world etc and not seeing it happen seems like a quick-fix or get-out clause for someone's morals to me.
Every time I walk into town where I live at the moment, I will pass one or more homeless people. I am increasingly considering stopping to talk to one of them - which one exactly I'm not sure of, there's a bit of choice where I live - and maybe buy them a sandwich or something if they'd appreciate it. Again, I'm skeptical about giving money to beggars because you never know quite what they do with it. I have images of some of them, so desperate are they to get ahead in life, throwing it into every wishing well or body of water they can find in a superstitious and ill-founded attempt to gain that which they desire.
Technically, that could be a reference to alcoholism. It's not, but look at it as one if you like. It's really quite clever that way, rather than watching homeless people throwing money away as an offering to a probably-non-existent-water-deity.
back to my point - which some might say I have yet to make - I feel self-improvement happens as a by-product of ones actions rather than it being something you can pursue or set your mind to achieving; there's no defined manner in which people can improve themselves, except by almost accidentally achieving it. I'm sure people will point out to me that you can do good things etc, but as I tried to explain (probably poorly) above doing good things for your benefit reduces the goodness of those things. However, deciding to do something to actually benefit or help others somehow - as a small number of my friends have begun to do - and getting something out of it almost coincidentally will actually go further towards a self-improvement goal.
Good for those who self-improve, better for those who help improve the lives of others. Best of all to those who did it anyway and didn't ask for recognition.
Actions speak louder than words, and some actions have the power of a gunshot, and can shock and awe the world to the same extent.
-------
N.B. Don't take the above analogy literally - there are very few good acts that can be done with a gun, they aren't exactly the primary instrument of charity. At least, no charity I'd consider charitable.
Well done everyone who goes out (or stays in) and does a good thing everyday. Even better done if you didn't tell anyone about it.
I say this because while good works are all well and, ha ha, good, seeking credit or reward for them undermines the action a little bit in my opinion. If you're only 'self-improving' to be rewarded for it, then really your just self-indulging, right? Yes, you've something good but really you did it for you, so you could get that nice little glow inside. Unfortunately, because it wasn't an honest act of altruism that glow goes away pretty soon and you think, 'What's the point? I didn't get much out of it.'
Which is exactly why you should do things for other people; because then every time you see them you'll get a warm glow inside. Anyone out there who knows me will be a mite suspicious right now as they'll be wondering exactly why I'm talking about this - I don't usually do the charity thing. I'm not afraid to admit it, I like to see the results of my actions. Giving money to a faceless organization that claims to help the world etc and not seeing it happen seems like a quick-fix or get-out clause for someone's morals to me.
Every time I walk into town where I live at the moment, I will pass one or more homeless people. I am increasingly considering stopping to talk to one of them - which one exactly I'm not sure of, there's a bit of choice where I live - and maybe buy them a sandwich or something if they'd appreciate it. Again, I'm skeptical about giving money to beggars because you never know quite what they do with it. I have images of some of them, so desperate are they to get ahead in life, throwing it into every wishing well or body of water they can find in a superstitious and ill-founded attempt to gain that which they desire.
Technically, that could be a reference to alcoholism. It's not, but look at it as one if you like. It's really quite clever that way, rather than watching homeless people throwing money away as an offering to a probably-non-existent-water-deity.
back to my point - which some might say I have yet to make - I feel self-improvement happens as a by-product of ones actions rather than it being something you can pursue or set your mind to achieving; there's no defined manner in which people can improve themselves, except by almost accidentally achieving it. I'm sure people will point out to me that you can do good things etc, but as I tried to explain (probably poorly) above doing good things for your benefit reduces the goodness of those things. However, deciding to do something to actually benefit or help others somehow - as a small number of my friends have begun to do - and getting something out of it almost coincidentally will actually go further towards a self-improvement goal.
Good for those who self-improve, better for those who help improve the lives of others. Best of all to those who did it anyway and didn't ask for recognition.
Actions speak louder than words, and some actions have the power of a gunshot, and can shock and awe the world to the same extent.
-------
N.B. Don't take the above analogy literally - there are very few good acts that can be done with a gun, they aren't exactly the primary instrument of charity. At least, no charity I'd consider charitable.
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