Thursday, May 15, 2025
Blog Page 265

Pig transplants: the science behind the dilemma

David Bennett is perhaps a name you’ve heard quite frequently since the last week or so. On the 7th of January 2022, he became the first man in the world to successfully receive a transplant of a pig’s heart. The eight-hour-long operation took place at the University of Maryland Medical Center in Baltimore, USA, and the success was viewed by some as the beacon of light for the future of organ transplant surgery. 

Though the surgical breakthrough was the first-of-its-kind, xenotransplantation, the goal of transplanting animal organs into people, has been pursued by scientists and doctors alike since more than 60 years ago. It was the summer of 1940, when Peter Medawar and his wife, Jean, and eldest daughter, Caroline’s peaceful Sunday afternoon was broken by a plane crashing violently just 200m away in a garden. Although the pilot survived the crash, he suffered horrific burns.

A zoologist by training, the Oxford researcher Medawar was conducting studies on which antibiotics were best at treating burns. For the pilot who just crashed, doctors soon came to Medawar for help on deciding what medications to use. During a time where the war left many airmen in agony with much of their skin incinerated, while medical advances such as blood transfusions and antibiotics were able to prolong their lives, there was no way of actually treating these burns. And when the doctors transplanted healthy skin from one person to another to cover the burn-wound, it was all destroyed soon after. 

At the time, the doctors believed it to be merely a matter of skill that the skins were destroyed – the cutting and sewing were yet to be perfected, but Medawar saw something more. Through tireless experimentation with 25 rabbits, he grafted pieces of skin from each one onto every other one. 625 operations on 25 rabbits later, he showed that skin could not be grafted between different rabbits. More interestingly, during the second round of grafting, it turned out that the rejection happened even faster than during the first transplant, indicative of an immune reaction. Fundamentally, Medawar and his team showed that transplantation can be successful as long as the immune reactions can be stopped. 

Fast forward to a few decades later, in the 1960s, chimpanzee kidneys were transplanted into some human patients, but the longest a recipient lived was nine months. Then in 1983, a baboon heart was transplanted into an infant named Baby Fae, who died 20 days later. In order to increase the chance of a successful transplantation, scientists looked to gene editing and cloning technologies to genetically alter the organs so that it’s less likely to be rejected by the patient. Specifically, pigs are often chosen over other primates for organ procurement because they are easier to raise and their organs are able to reach adult human size in just around six months. 

Before the pig’s heart was transplanted into David Bennett, Revivicor, a regenerative medicine company that provided the pig’s heart for surgery, made 10 genetic modifications to the organ. Firstly, 3 genes were knocked out or inactivated, including one gene that encodes a molecule which would cause an aggressive human rejection response. Then, the growth gene was inactivated to stop the pig’s heart from growing further in size after it was implanted. Finally, six tweaks were made to the pig’s heart as additions of human genes: two anti-inflammatory genes, two genes that promote normal blood coagulation and prevent blood vessel damage, and two other regulatory proteins that help tamp down antibody response, says the Science magazine.

Despite the initial challenges, scientists are hoping that its success will enable them to give more people animal organs. However, if Bennett’s success were to be replicated, regulators and ethicists will need to define what makes a person eligible for a pig organ. For instance, most people waiting for kidney transplants can be put on dialysis, and organ harvesting from animals raises animal welfare concerns. PETA, the non-for-profit organisation People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, warns of the mistreatment of animals as “warehouses of spare parts”, citing protocols documenting that baboons and macaques were caged alone, subjected to multiple major survival surgeries, numerous biopsies, and repeated blood draws in clinical trials for organ transplantation. Furthermore, in these days of the pandemic, all of us are only too aware of the very real danger of transmitting unknown viruses during such a procedure, as pigs often carry zoonotic and other infectious pathogens that could be introduced to the human patient.

Image: Ben Salter / CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Humanness in AI: the Turing Test and a technology based on deception

For a long time in the 20th century, the possibility of a ‘computational machine’ being sentient, or in effect human, remained only as a distant philosophical hypothesis. Nevertheless, these philosophical discussions apply now more than ever – at a time where increasingly integrated technology is blurring the line between reality and the virtual world.

From the conception of a ‘computational machine’ in Alan Turing’s 1936 paper, the idea of human-like computing became central to the field of Artificial Intelligence. In 1950, Alan Turing proposed the following ‘imitation game’ – now commonly known as the Turing Test –  to explore what is the essence of being human. The game is played by three agents – two contestants A and B, one being a human and the other a machine, and a human interrogator C. Without the interrogator seeing the contestants, C may ask any question to A and B, which they will respond via typewritten communication, in order for C to distinguish between the man and the machine. The interrogator is allowed to put questions to the person and the machine of the following kind: “Will A and B please tell me what they think of this Shakespearean sonnet?”, or “What is the result of 29345 times 5387?”. The objective of the machine is to try to cause the interrogator to mistakenly conclude that it is the human, and the objective of the person is to assist the interrogator to identify the machine. 

In his paper, the ‘imitation game’ was presented as a sufficient condition for the confirmation of genuine intelligence in the machine. In other words, Turing believed that if the machine were able to answer any such enquiries to a satisfactory degree as to fool the investigator, then we should admit that the machine has achieved genuine intelligence. In addition, he noted that machine-intelligence may work in ways vastly different to our own, so the Turing Test should not be treated as a necessary condition for machine intelligence. 

Since then, the development in chatbot technology illustrated issues and ‘loopholes’ with Turing’s formulation of machine intelligence. As early as 1966, one of the earliest natural language processing programmes, ELIZA, appeared to have displayed characteristics that were enough to pass the Turing Test, but upon closer inspection, the proclaimed chatbot therapist is no more than an act of trickery using techniques such as pattern matching and brute force regurgitation. 

So perhaps chatbot AI isn’t quite the genuine machine intelligence Turing had in mind, but no doubt passing the Turing Test is still an important first step towards achieving true machine intelligence. As such, we ought to be more than careful to resolve the ethical dilemmas building towards machine intelligence at every step of the way. Without genuine semantic understanding of the language output, AI ethics is particularly difficult to navigate when it comes to chatbot technology.

In 2016, Microsoft launched its own chatbot, affectionately nicknamed ‘Tay’. Tay was a twitter bot that was supposed to interact with users on Twitter and learn from those interactions. From Tay’s initial friendly and positive debut on twitter, internet trolls quickly spotted a way of exploitation. To manipulate her algorithm, trolls started attacking the chatbot with languages filled with misogyny, racism, and other hateful content to see if she would imitate them. She did. Within 24 hours, Tay descended from posting tweets such as “humans are super cool” to generating antisemitic hate speech.

More recently, Alexa, Amazon’s voice assistance, made headlines after it told a 10-year-old girl to touch a live plug with a penny. The suggestion came after the girl asked Alexa for “a challenge to do”, and in this instance, the dangerous challenge was one that began circulating on TikTok and other social media platforms about a year ago.

While these occasions of ethical violations were resolved by their respective tech companies as soon as the issues were found, other subtle nuances in AI design can also have a huge impact on ethical considerations. Intelligent or not, the convenient assistance service brought to us by chatbots cannot be denied. Recent research by the University of Florida revealed that whether it is a well-implemented AI or a real person, high scores of ‘perceived humanness’ when interacting with virtual assistants on online retail platforms led to greater consumer trust in the company. 

However, this brings into question the ethicality of a technology based on deception. Google’s voice assistant, Duplex, sparked controversy in 2018 when it fooled many shop-owners after successfully booking restaurant reservations and hair salon appointments in a distinctively human-sounding voice. The technology itself may be harmless enough, and the audience live at the tech launch sure felt ‘in on the joke’, but, equally, the voice assistant could have achieved the same goals during launch through some other more honest and transparent ways. If the Google developers tested the hypothesis ‘is this technology better than preceding versions or just as good as a human caller’ instead, they would not have had to deceive people in the experiment.

As technologies continue to evolve and develop, possibly there will come a day when genuine machine intelligence as Turing had envisioned will be achieved. But ultimately, despite the theatrical value of chatbots passing the Turing Test, I believe the most important criteria for any technological advancements should be based on improved performance and better user experience, rather than its ability to deceive.

Image: geralt / CC Public Domain Certification via Pixabay

Timothée Chalamet’s ‘Wonka’ to resume filming in Oxford

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Oxfordshire County Council have issued notices confirming that filming of the upcoming film Wonka starring Timothée Chalamet will resume in Oxford this February.

December saw crowds of fans gather on Catte Street in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the Oscar-nominated actor as he left Hertford College, which the crew was using as a base to film around Radcliffe Square.

There had been plans to film on Merton Street in December, but this has been rescheduled to February 15th and 16th. Filming will also take place on Catte Street and New College Lane on February 16th and 17th. Traffic restrictions will be in place on Broad Street from 6am to 10pm on February 16th to allow filming to take place.

Wonka, which is scheduled to release on March 17th 2023, is expected to depict the life of the famous fictional confectioner prior to the opening of his chocolate factory. Alongside Chalamet, the star-studded cast is set to include Oscar winner Olivia Colman, Sally Hawkins, alumnus of The Queen’s College Rowan Atkinson, Matt Lucas, and Matthew Baynton.

Image: Maximillian Bühm/CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Rhodes Scholar withdraws after ‘false’ claims of poverty

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A Rhodes Scholar who claimed that she had grown up in the foster system has lost her scholarship after an investigation revealed that she grew up in a middle-class family and attended a $30,000-per-annum private school. 

In November 2020, Mackenzie Fierceton was one of just 32 students to be awarded the Rhodes Scholarship to study at Oxford. The Rhodes Scholarship, which is the oldest and perhaps most prestigious global scholarship programme, pays for Oxford University fees as well as providing an annual stipend to successful applicants. According to its website, the Rhodes scholarship seeks students who display outstanding intellect, character, and commitment to service. 

Fierceton has made various comments about her experiences in care, claiming to have been “bouncing around the foster care system throughout my life” and referring to herself as “low-income”. When her scholarship was announced, an article in The Inquirer celebrated her success, describing her as “a first-generation, low-income student and former foster youth.”

An internal investigation by a Rhodes committee concluded that Fierceton, who is a graduate student at the University of Pennsylvania, had “created and repeatedly shared false narratives about herself” for the purpose of serving her “interests as an applicant for competitive programs”. 

On November 23rd, Penn received an anonymous email, which cast doubts over Mackenzie’s true identity and background. 

A subsequent investigation by The Rhodes Trust found that for the first 17 years of her life, Fierceton was raised by her mother in a wealthy community in Missouri. She did spend time in foster care, but left the system after less than a year. 

Fierceton has since withdrawn from the Rhodes programme. However, she maintains that she told no lies. Mackenzie claims that she suffered parental abuse: she told police in 2014 that her mother had pushed her down the stairs, after which she was hospitalised for 22 days. However, all charges against her mother, Dr Morrison, were dropped, on the grounds that they were “based on false information”. Although Fierceton claims that the Trust is attacking a “survivor” of abuse, her position as a victim of abuse is contested by Penn.  

In a lawsuit filed last month, Fierceton accused the University of Pennsylvania and Trust investigators of victimising her. 

Fierceton’s legal defence centers around an alleged ‘cover up’ of the death of a former Penn student. She claims that the investigation into her personal history was intended to discredit her as the key witness in a wrongful death lawsuit filed against the University of Pennsylvania. 

In January 2020, Fierceton suffered a seizure on campus, and she alleges that it took over an hour for first responders to reach her. She believes that this delay was caused by the unsafe and inaccessible infrastructure of Penn’s campus buildings. Subsequently, she attempted to determine whether the death of her classmate, Cameron Driver, which occurred approximately 16 months prior to her seizure, was due to a similar delay. Penn denies this claim.

After Fierceton drew this issue to the attention of senior administrators and provided details of the alleged failures displayed in both medical emergencies, the lawsuit states that she had to be “discredited and buried” by the university. She claims that the university conducted a ‘sham’ investigation, following which they forced her to voluntarily decline her Rhodes scholarship, threatening to withhold her master’s degree and even send her to prison if she failed to comply. Her defence claims that, as part of the plan, a senior Penn administrator authored a secret letter to The Rhodes Trust expressing ‘serious concerns’ about Fierceton’s credibility. Penn denies this claim. 

In her complaint to Penn, Fierceton has issued a notice of preservation of evidence, demanding and requesting that Penn “take necessary action to ensure the preservation of all documents, communications, … items and things … which may in any manner be relevant to the subject matter of the causes of action and/or the allegations of this complaint.”

In Penn’s response to the complaint, the University declared that “every objective and careful reviewer of the facts in this case – including the Rhodes Trust, Penn’s Office of Student Conduct, a faculty committee from Fierceton’s graduate school at Penn, and a hearing panel consisting of faculty and students from other Penn schools – concluded that Fierceton had not been truthful.”

The University of Pennsylvania told Cherwell: “We are disappointed that Mackenzie Fierceton has chosen to file a lawsuit, especially after she has received so many opportunities at Penn. [Sic.] There is no basis for Ms. Fierceton’s claims. We are confident that Penn and the individuals named by Ms. Fierceton as additional defendants will be vindicated in the litigation.”

The Rhodes trust shared the following statement with Cherwell: “We can confirm that Mackenzie Fierceton withdrew her candidacy from the Rhodes Scholarship and is not a Rhodes Scholar.”

“Rhodes Scholars are selected on the basis of a powerful set of core criteria which include ‘truth … devotion to duty, sympathy for and protection of the weak.’  We strive constantly to ensure that the Trust’s policies and procedures uphold these values and that our selection process is robust and fair.  We provide training resources for selectors on a wide range of topics, in order that applications are assessed diligently and without any form of bias. If concerns arise about an individual application, we review the matter carefully and give the applicant multiple opportunities to respond and share information.”

“We are deeply committed to our Legacy, Equity and Inclusion action plan. We are proud of the ever-more global and diverse cohorts of Scholars we support, and of the many contributions they make to the diversity and excellence of Oxford’s post-graduate population.”

Image: Bryan Y. W. Shin / CC BY-SA 3.0

OULC invites MP with links to Chinese spy

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The release of the Oxford University Labour Club term card has revealed the inclusion of Barry Gardiner, an MP with close connections to Chinese spy Christine Ching Kui Lee.

In a highly unusual public move, MI5 issued an alert about Ms Lee’s use of donations to “establish links” between the Chinese Communist Party and British political figures. While Ms Lee was connected with all major political parties, donating £5,000 to Liberal Democrat Sir Ed Davey and receiving a Point of Light Award from then Prime Minister Theresa May in 2019, these are dwarfed by her interactions with Barry Gardiner.

Mr Gardiner received more than £500,000 from Christine Lee over 6 years, which was mainly used to pay staff. Further evidence of the close personal connection between the two was revealed by the inclusion of Ms Lee’s son on that staff, as well as a call from Ms Lee a week before the MI5 alert to inquire after the health of Gardiner’s elderly parents in law.

While insisting that the Chinese agent ‘gained no political advantage’ from him, he did admit to discussing Labour policy with her, though it was “not in great detail”. Gardiner also stated that he had been “liaising with our security services for a number of years” about her and they had “always known, and been made fully aware by me, of her engagement with my office and the donations she made to fund researchers in my office in the past”.

Faced with the accusation he had been a “cheerleader” for China in an interview with Sky News, Gardiner highlighted his past criticisms of the Chinese government, such as on climate change issues and human rights concerns. However, the connection between the former Shadow Secretary of State and a foreign agent who lobbied for Chinese interests in nuclear technology has raised eyebrows; particularly due to his guiding role in Labour’s energy and trade policies as a frontbench MP under Corbyn.

In light of this, many of his prior comments have come under renewed scrutiny, and no doubt will continue to do so now that Business Secretary Kwasi Kwarteng has ordered an inquiry. This could be uncomfortable for Mr Gardiner, who has made some controversial statements about China in the past. These include when he deplored “the escalation of violence between protesters in Hong Kong and ordinary people in Hong Kong”, a comment that led to The Guardian accusing him of being a Chinese apologist.

Mr Gardiner’s defence of continued Chinese involvement in Hinkley C nuclear power station and his criticism of the government’s steps to ensure that it could prevent the sale of French firm EDF’s stake in the project to prevent it falling under Chinese ownership have also come under renewed questioning.

The OULC told Cherwell: “OULC invited Mr Gardiner to speak before this investigation was made public by MI5. While we are concerned to learn of the large sums given to him by Christine Lee, we believe that it would not serve accountability in this case to simply disinvite him from our event. We hope that Mr Gardiner will still appear at the club, and we will be able to question him robustly about the nature of his relationship with China and Christine Lee. While we by no means excuse Mr Gardiner’s behaviour or exceptionally poor judgement, we also note that other large donors, such as Rosemary Saïd and Lubov Chernukhin have donated close to £2m each in the last 20 years to the Conservative Party, with lower scrutiny about the intentions behind their donations. We are continuing to monitor the situation and will review our decision if MI5’s investigation, which Mr Gardiner is co-operating with, turns up any new information.”

Image: Rwendland / CC BY-SA 4.0

“I don’t believe in a redemption arc for Perez Hilton” : Perez Hilton in Conversation

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Perez Hilton is saying sorry.

17 years since the rise and fall of his controversial blog, this near-universally loathed gossipmonger turned businessman and doting father of three is now offering a heartfelt apology to those he believes he has hurt.

But are we ready to forgive him? And does he care if we don’t?

There was a time when this once significant contributor to the cultural conversation was everywhere, fanning the flames of celebrity discourse wherever he went. Some loved his ‘tell-all’ approach to celebrity gossip. Most despised his vitriolic take-down of those in the limelight. Everyone knew his name.

Perez Hilton, or Mario Armando Lavandeira Jr as he was known before taking on his infamous alter ego, helped to usher in a new age of celebrity gossip. In doing so he became one of the most hated men in the world. 

“Nobody was doing what I ended up doing,” Perez tells me at the beginning of our call, “the celebrity magazines back in 2004 would just use their websites as a landing page to get people to sign up for subscriptions to the print edition. They wouldn’t break news on their sites.” 

Perez revolutionised the model, creating a blog that allowed him to break news in real time. At the press of a button he could report the latest celebrity scandal, offer up his opinion on the most recent faux pas or fashion mishap.

The way he spoke about celebrities also differed from his contemporaries. He recalls a time when celebrity discourse centred around their relatability. Magazines like US Weekly, led by pioneering figures such as Bonnie Fuller, would post photos of celebrities taking out the trash. The overriding message was that these people were just like us.

“That never interested me,” Perez tells me.

Instead he drew from the British tabloid model, known for its bite.

“The British press can [be], and often is, extremely vicious,” he tells me, “I’m sure Meghan  Markle would agree. Or Caroline Flack.”

According to Perez’s vision, celebrities weren’t just like us. They were much worse.

And so whenever there was a celebrity slip-up or an infamous fall from grace, Perez was there, ready with a salacious headline and a scathing take.

It was this radical choice of content that made Perez a household name, at least among the celebrity obsessed. His notoriety skyrocketed in 2007, which he terms “the Year of the Girl Gone Wild.” The year of Brittney Spears’ breakdown, Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton’s very public court dramas, the release of Kim Kardashian’s sex tape, 2007 was a gossip’s dream. 

The chaos that ensued in Hollywood, paired with Perez’s biting commentary, was a winning combination. Perez made celebrity gossip enticing. And addictive.

“I pandered to people’s basest instincts, their DNA,” he tells me, “Most everybody I know, if they’re driving their car and they see a car crash, they’re going to slow down and look and see what happened. That’s just who we are as human beings. We’re curious people.”

In the heyday of his online empire, Perez controlled the narrative of Hollywood. The heroes and the villains, the victims and the vixens, the crazies and the Brittneys, he was ruthless. Nobody was left unscathed.

His early blog posts are difficult to read now. There’s a scathing post about Lily Allen that reads Lily Allen + Motherhood = Disaster!!!, accompanied by an image of the singer, cigarette in hand. Perez has drawn a coughing baby onto Allen’s stomach. In the final line, he asks “Can’t you stick to intoxication instead of moving on to procreation?” Jennifer Anniston is frequently referred to as “MANiston”, with cruel remarks about her appearance and relationship status. Amy Winehouse is a “crackhead” and a “wino”. Most of his targets were women.

Spears was a particular favourite. Unflattering paparazzi photos of the singer are plastered across the blog. One caption reads: “this mess is still in self-destruct mode.” Another shows an image of Heath Ledger, posted shortly after his death. The caption reads: “why couldn’t it be Brittney?”

In the wake of the #FreeBrittney movement and a re-evaluation of the way we treat those in the public eye, how does he feel about the words he wrote?

He pauses for a moment, before tentatively saying, “I think that is clearly lacking in compassion. At the time I was saying what a lot of people were thinking. That and many others were unnecessarily cruel and I was being purposefully hurtful. This is why I don’t believe in a redemption arc for Perez Hilton.”

“I knew at the time what I was doing was wrong and I didn’t care. I did it anyway because I was being rewarded for bad behaviour. Like you see now with Jake Paul or Logan Paul. They’ve both been cancelled numerous times, but in 2021 Jake and Logan Paul are bigger than ever, making more money than ever, and being rewarded for their continuous bad behaviour. It’s as if I created the blueprint for the Paul brothers,” he says. 

Perez likens his obsessive reporting to an addiction, previously stating in an interview for BBC HARDtalk in November 2020, that “I was a full blown addict. And while my drug of choice was not drugs or alcohol, I was fully and severely addicted to attention.”

It’s an addiction his followers shared. “When Brittney Spears was at her wildest, people were glued to my website” he writes in his 2020 memoir. This was a two-way relationship. Perez Hilton didn’t exist in a vacuum. Even now, as I read his old posts, I can’t help but feel compelled by the narratives he constructs. There’s something very clickable about his portrayal of celebrities on the verge of a public breakdown.

Why does he think we found his content so irresistible?

“Because it makes your life seem wonderfully boring,” he tells me, “everybody’s life is messed up. Like I said, nobody is perfect. But when you are reading these wild, shocking stories, regardless of whatever drama you have, you might say…well, at least I’m not so and so or at least I’m not that person ….”

There’s a certain hypocrisy, Perez notes, in the way we respond to celebrity gossip.

“Let’s say there’s an Adele phone hack and photos or sex videos of her leaked. A lot, if not the majority, of people online are going to be looking it up to try to see that,” he tells me, “and even some of the people that might secretly look it up, publicly, they will criticise any outlet for publishing it and criticise any person for viewing that content.”

Perez reached a turning point in 2010 following an altercation with the manager of the Black Eyed Peas, Polo Molina. Molina punched Perez, after he used a homophobic slur against will.i.am. Documenting the incident in his memoir, Perez writes: “‘I need to make some changes,’ I said to myself. I really meant it.” After years of online cruelty, Perez’s reign of terror had finally come to an end.

It would be remiss to claim Perez has been incident-free in the years following. Though he maintains any mistakes he makes nowadays do not have the same malice behind them.

“Since 2010, I have made mistakes, but it’s never been my intention. My thought process has never been…I want to say something really bad about so and so. Or do something really terrible to get a reaction out of them or the public. Back to the addiction issue, it’s a constant struggle. I absolutely sometimes lapse back into old Perez. I should probably sit and think about things more often but this does not excuse my behaviour,” he tells me.

Speaking to Perez, the impression he gives is one of genuine repentance. He speaks openly about his past mistakes and takes accountability for them.

“I’m not trying to erase my past. I’m not pretending it didn’t happen. For me, I think that shows how awful I was back then. And that’s who I’m not anymore,” he says.

“I carry not just regret,” he tells me, “but also deep shame.”

He can understand why people find it difficult to believe his remorse, but this won’t stop him from apologising.

“That is one of the many things that I can and do to try and clean my karma of the past and of the present because I still make mistakes,” he tells me.

But what does this mean for the people he hurt? The irreparable damage he did?

“I don’t necessarily think that apologising is enough,” he says candidly.

“I will apologise sincerely if I believe I did something wrong and when I don’t, I won’t apologise for it. I’m not sorry for everything I did,” he continues.

What isn’t he sorry for?

“I’m not sorry for creating something out of nothing,” he replies, “Nothing was ever given to me.”

Perez also remains unrepentant for a recent TikTok scandal he’s been embroiled in. Perez was banned from the platform in December of last year, after a comment he left on a video TikTok star Charli D’Amelio had posted. In the video, D’Amelio, 15, is shown dancing in a bikini to a remix of Brockhampton’s Sugar. Perez met with backlash from D’Amelio’s extensive fanbase, after questioning whether the dance was appropriate, given the sexually explicit nature of the lyrics.

“I’m not sorry about that. At all,” he says when I bring the incident up, “because I was not slut shaming anybody. I was not body shaming anybody. I was not even trolling.”

“Me asking [if it was appropriate] is not inappropriate. Me asking that is not bullying. A year and a half later, I think perhaps what I should have done differently is directed that question at her parents, like ‘is it appropriate that her parents haven’t deleted this yet?’”, he says. 

D’Amelio’s fans retaliated. Some made videos attacking Perez. Perez’s provocative response to one such video, commenting “all these videos are getting me hard”, came under fire. The creator of the video was a minor.

“I don’t regret that either. A, I didn’t know that girl was a minor. B, that person had made multiple videos attacking me. So instead of responding with hate, I responded in a dumb, shocking way. I thought it was better than saying something negative to this person who had made so many videos hardcore attacking me.”

I can understand the sentiment, though I question whether it’s ever wise to cause such outrage for the sake of it.

“I have nothing to lose or nothing to win,” he tells me, “In the minds of people, they view me a certain way, that’s how they will always see me and, like I said, I still make mistakes. Everybody makes mistakes.”

But isn’t the usual response to at least feign some sense of shame in the face of cancellation?

“Here’s what makes me different,” he interrupts, “Most celebrities that are getting hate will ignore it. I always engage. If you go to my Twitter today, and you scroll down, and yesterday as well, you’ll see I retweet the hate. I was doing the same thing on TikTok. I engage because I know that doing that will get even more attention.”

So he’s fine playing the villain in the eyes of his critics? 

His response is characteristically provocative. “I never said I was fine with it, but I will continue to play that part until I don’t have to anymore. I don’t have ‘FU’ (“Fuck You”) money in the bank.”

Perez is committed to staying in vogue. And, for the large part, he has. While many of the names associated with him have faded into obscurity, his has endured. This is, he claims, due to his self-professed “unhealthy work ethic”. Recalling an earlier comment about the Paul brothers, I can’t help but feel as though there might be something else at play. Perez has gone to lengths to apologise for his past; the question of forgiveness is another matter.

“I don’t even need to be forgiven because I still have a career, and I’m still making money, and I’m still chatting with you right now,” he tells me, “Whether people like it or not, Perez is forever. I’m not going anywhere.”

To be forgiven is to be forgotten. Perez isn’t ready to let that happen. And, with our commitment to cancelling him, our collective outrage at every scandal he embroils himself in, and our morbid curiosity to see what comes next, neither, perhaps, are we.

Image Credit: Harry Kidd

Perez’s line of CBD gummies are available at MyTrue10.com.

Puzzles Solutions HT22 Week 0

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La Vie en Rose: New year, many me(s)

A couple days ago I went to see a Baudelaire exhibition, and as I meandered through colourful rooms full of poems about flowers and beautiful glass-eyed girls, to rooms displaying portraits of skeletons and poems about the inevitability of rotting in hell, I couldn’t help but notice a dichotomy. Now, this isn’t an essay for my French degree (don’t worry!), but rather a realisation I have had about myself. In fact, not just myself, but a select group of people. 

My whole childhood I was mesmerised by the rather magical prospect of reinvention. Every single summer I decided that they wouldn’t know what hit them and I would be a changed human. One summer it meant that after having decided that I needed a new, cool-girl laugh, I spent the next few months plaguing my friends’, teachers’ and family’s ears with a rather strange and unpleasant throaty cackle; another such renewal manifested itself in Year 7, with permanently worn galaxy leggings and fishnet gloves. I think the teachers must have thought I was just slightly odd and let me do me. They had less sympathy for cap-wearing Ron. My case was met with more pity, rightfully. (As much as I would like to say that I don’t claim her, the fishnetted galaxy girl is definitely buried deep inside and still a big part of who I am today). I know that I am not the only one with this desire to romanticise the everyday. And I think, to some degree, it’s this escapism that makes life worth living. Us Baudelairean existentialists (the select group I mentioned earlier) can’t just commit to one person, it would be too boring. Let’s move away from self-monogamy and accept our multi-sidedness.  

We’ve just entered the New Year, a wonderful period of wishful thinking, where determined self-delusion is not only expected, but compulsory. However, when writing my own riveting resolutions manifesto, I realised that the goals were all over the place, and that some completely contradicted each other. Some I wrote on days where I was feeling very much like the wrongly done main character and they went a little like “to put myself first and be more selfish”. On other days, such as when my best friend spent all morning looking for her lost earphones, (that could have been mine for all we know, even though mine are different colour and definitely on that bus I rushed out of last week), I wrote: “don’t be so selfish, be a nicer person”. And at the end of this exhibition was a quote by Baudelaire referring to “l’homo duplex”, the dual man. He says that we are composed of two different selves. And that’s exactly it. (But I actually think it’s more than two for me – rather 10). So how do I go about New Me-ing all of these Maddys? 

Glow-ups are always fun. And here in Paris, it’s easy (as long as you make sure your BFF who is also in Paris is on board, or reinventing your name at the bar and lying about being Russian can all go very South very quickly.) But this year I would like it to go beyond the various alcohol-induced “Calypso”s and “Natalya”s. If I am going to do this properly, I have to commit to all of the various real me’s. And you to all of your various and wonderful yous. So, I’ve identified a few me’s that seem to be more prominent at the minute: 

  • Me with my French Friends here: a Jane Birkin wannabe with a conveniently sexy (and thus slightly exaggerated) English accent.
  • Me with my actual Friends: a loud, ridiculous and overly-confident boisterous selfish delight.
  • Drunk me: an insufferable paraplegic. 
  • Me with my Family: an insufferable slob.
  • Me with strangers: an overly apologetic, mumbling wreck.
  • Me with the studious anti-alcohol anti-drugs housemates I live with: an intellectual who, like them, lives in the library and is opposed to heavy drinking and drugs (“I know right, it’s just so unnecessary”)

Now it is just a matter of bettering each and every one of them, with equal care and dedication. The fundamental trick for this to work is to make sure none of these various groups of people meet/interact with each other. It’s got to be within a controlled environment (It would be extremely awkward if your drunk self told the fit stranger at the club that you’re a Calvin Klein model and then it turns out he’s good friends with someone you know who later informed him that this is, in fact, not true. Not that I would know, but hypothetically speaking I can imagine that would be a little embarrassing).  

I am aware this is all veering towards the ludicrous, but – all jokes aside –  coming to Paris made me fixate on this New Me concept and I tried and aborted certain Maddys along the way. I’ve come to the conclusion that it doesn’t work if you espouse a self that isn’t really you. Why invent a new one when there are already so many brilliant ‘you’s’ to choose from. There is a fine line between the adulting task of networking, and just being a big one-woman show with ten different parts and thirty different wigs. But can I be blamed? It’s hard enough being alone with my ADHD/OCD mind, I need my many selves to spice things up in there. This is really not about being fake. There’s nothing fake in accepting your duality. I was talking to my friend who agrees that there is already a detach from one’s “real” self, especially in another country because of the language barrier. You’re a slightly altered being when in a new lexical world. 

A psychological analysis may well conclude that this stems from a place of deep-set insecurity and some form of unresolved past trauma, sure. My personal anthem Bittersweet Symphony states “I’m a million different people from one day to the next” – so I will carry on bettering the various different me’s in unison. But my favourite me is one I’ve not yet mentioned: the me of early childhood who had no conception of (and therefore cared not for) who she was and was everyone and everything just as and when she pleased. 

Image Credit: Kevinbism / Pizabay

Douze Points: Defying the odds, Eurovision’s biggest disappointments

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According to the famous ABBA song, the winner takes it all. Yet as the undoubtedly most famous act to have won Eurovision, it’s no wonder they’d sing about winning. Whilst the Eurovision Song Contest has its fair share of incredible winners, many of the competing songs seem destined to be forgotten once the credits start rolling. But what about, specifically, those songs that were expected to do something special and then didn’t? Here are some of the songs that for one reason or another didn’t have that special moment on the big night.

A special mention needs to be given to all those acts who didn’t even make it to the Eurovision stage, especially those in 2021. Unfortunately we will never know if they were destined for musical greatness, or if audiences at home would have been leaving to put the kettle on. 

Whilst for most casual fans of the contest Eurovision is merely a three-hour affair, those who are more invested will follow it for weeks and even months; watching national selections and pre-contest parties. Because of this there is usually a pretty good indication of who will do well before rehearsals even begin. And in 2017 the favourite going into the contest was Italy, represented by Francesco Gabbani with the song ‘Occidentali’s Karma’ (Westerner’s Karma).

It’s easy to understand Italy’s popularity in this contest and why it was expected by many to do well. The song itself was a criticism of materialist lifestyle and the attempted westernisation of aspects of other cultures, with references to Buddhism in the song’s chorus. The staging as well was simple and effective, whilst also cohesively working with the song. And who wouldn’t find a dancing gorilla memorable? 

However it was not to be for Gabbani, and he had to settle with a respectable sixth-place, with Portugal ultimately winning with the stunningly beautiful Amar Pelos Dois; incidentally this was Portugal’s first victory. On stage Gabbani’s performance seemed somewhat empty, and the dancing gorilla was more cliched than entertaining.

Moving forward a few years, in 2019 Tamara Todevska’s song Proud gave North Macedonia it’s best ever result – seventh place. This might seem a slightly odd inclusion in this list, but stay with me on this one. Tamara went into the contest sitting at fifteenth place in the odds. However, she quickly impressed with a moving performance of female empowerment, delivered with truly impressive vocals. Once the voting started, it began looking like a three horse race between North Macedonia, Sweden and The Netherlands.

In the end, it was The Netherlands who won overall, but Sweden topped the jury voting on the night, with North Macedonia only a few points behind. Or so it seemed. It was not until after the contest that it came out the Belarussian jury had incorrectly calculated their points, and that North Macedonia should’ve won the jury. Whilst this didn’t have too much of an impact on the overall results, it did rob Tamara the joy of realising she had been the jury’s favourite on the night, a truly well-earned accolade.

The 2021 contest witnessed not one, but two surprisingly disappointing results in both San Marino and Croatia. Perhaps the former of these was the most surprising. It’s safe to say that I, alongside many others, were unbelievably surprised to discover that the microstate had managed to get Flo Rida to feature on their act. Unsurprisingly this led to them racing up the odds, and many were anticipating that Senhit and Flo Rida would give San Marino it’s best ever result with their song Adrenalina. 

I can distinctly remember watching the contest and just before the hosts gave San Marino its points from the televote, turning to my friends and telling them to expect a huge score. It turns out I couldn’t have been more wrong, as San Marino received a meagre 13 points from the viewers at home. We were astounded. To this day I’m not sure how this song was so poorly received. One particularly farfetched theory that I heard was that the viewers at home believed that the Sammarinese act was actually the interval due to both them performing last and the presence of Flo Rida. I’m not quite sure whether this is true. If I had to take a guess, the reason for San Marino’s poor performance was probably just due to its rather chaotic staging, and maybe the song just didn’t connect with viewers at home.

Finally, we have Croatia who in 2021 was represented by Albina with the very aptly named song Tick-Tock. For a song with a name so relevant and current, you would have anticipated it would do well. Both the juries and televoters from semi-final one certainly thought so and wanted to see it in the final. Yet due to the intricacies of the voting system, Croatia did not find itself being one of the ten countries qualifying for the final. Whilst Tick-Tock was by no means one of my favourite songs in the contest, it nevertheless was incredibly disappointing for such a catchy and enjoyable song with a stylish staging to miss out on the final in such a way.

At the end of the day, Eurovision is a contest and there inevitably will be acts who don’t perform as well as some were expecting. However this is part of the entertainment; if the results were consistently as expected, would millions really be tuning in to watch?

Brain Freeze: The C word waltz

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CW: Cancer, surgery.

So I’m talking to someone, right. Say I don’t really know them. Well maybe I do, a bit. A friend of a friend. My name’s been mentioned in conversations, I’ve been told I have to meet them. That kind of thing. So anyway, we’re talking, and I let something slip – mention that I’ve taken a year out of uni, or even worse say something stupid. Something along the lines of “Oh yeah, I tried bran flakes for the first time in hospital”. 

Oooooooh shit. Deboraaaaaa. You were doing the normal thing tonight. You promised yourself when you were doing your makeup before the party that you’d be Normal Debora with No Significantly Shocking Medical History. But you did it. It’s hard, to be fair, to pretend it never happened. And you know what, why should you pretend, why should you hide it because it was awful and how can you hide that?

Yeah sure, there’s that whole angle. Transparency for whatever reason: raising awareness about brain tumours, destigmatising it all, getting clout for your trauma. But I remember very quickly why I wanted to hide my dramatic medical history. Because as soon as the words emerge from my mouth and hit the eardrums of my conversation partner, a cringe inducing, exhausting, I-want-to-scream-into-a-pillow provoking dance begins. An awkward dance, a minefield to navigate. The C Word Waltz. It’s what I call the weird conversation that is initiated when someone realises that an Actual Former Cancer Patient is standing in front of them, and they don’t know how to respond because we don’t exist in a society that has productive conversations about cancer (no, The Fault in Our Stars doesn’t count). Now, dear reader, the preferred choreography of The C Word Waltz varies from person to person, but because I am a kind teacher, I will take you through a few different iterations.

There is the “Doe-Eyed Shock” version. They genuinely had no idea and don’t know exactly what happened but get the vibe that it was something bad. “You don’t have to talk about it” they say. I truly appreciate the sensitivity, but I know for a fact that they would get an inaccurate retelling of the story from someone else and stare at me from across the room all night in fear. I give in and quickly tell them. They’ll get quite upset and I’ll actually feel bad for them because my trauma is so traumatic, and I’ll end up comforting them even though I’m the one that had cancer. This is overall a harmless interpretation of the Waltz, although I don’t enjoy feeling guilty when they get sad that I had cancer.

Up next, we have one that makes me seethe with white hot rage. The Waltz performed in the “Oh Yeah, I Know” style. They nod knowingly and play it cool – “Oh yeah, [so and so] told me”. Oh my god. Shut up. Literally shut up. What a great way of telling me that you’ve been gossiping about me, you annoying little – I sound bitter? Sorry, lovely reader. It’s because I am.

Next up we have the “Overfamiliar Arrogance”, and it’s perhaps the one with the highest success rate of making me quite upset. They think I’ll feel more at ease if they add a little bit of humour into the equation, and make a joke about it all. I find that people often do this when they’re faced with something that they can’t really relate to. I’ve seen it happen to a whole range of people who, for some reason or other, have an inherent difference to the person they’re talking to. It’s the kind of exchange that makes me go to the bathroom and dry heave afterwards. Here’s the thing that lovers of this particular interpretation of the Waltz need to understand. If someone has a scab, they’re allowed to pick at it. Make jokes about it. But under no circumstances can you do that if you aren’t familiar with how the person with the injury treats their wound.

I lied when I said that one was the most upsetting, because a very close contender is the “I Knew Someone Who Had That and They Had a Really Painful Death and/or Suffered a Lot” version. Honourable mentions go to the following: “Holy Shit That’s Awful” (fair enough, it was pretty bad), the “But Are You Okay Now?” (I mean I don’t have the brain tumour anymore, but I’m really traumatised, and I know you don’t want to hear about that) and the “Oh Yeah I Read Your Column It Was So Good” (this is great and not enough people say this even though it’s the least you could do).

And it’s weird, to be honest, these feelings that I have around the Waltz. Because sometimes I think that I bring it on myself by being so open about it all. I once asked an oncologist: “How do I explain it all to people when I go back to university?”. She very plainly replied: “You don’t have to tell anyone”. And she was right, I didn’t have to. But the thing is, I did. And I still do. The reason that I hate The C Word Waltz is the very reason why I need to keep talking about it. Someone has to do the awkward dance, so that the choreography runs smoother for the next person. We live in a world where cancer is seen as something so awful that you can’t talk about it, you just furrow your brows in sympathy or say something stupid to mask your discomfort. But you don’t have to do that. Now, my sweet reader, if we see each other at a party and this conversation comes up – ask questions, show genuine emotion. But don’t tell me about your pet that died from the same type of cancer that I had.

Image Credit: Waltz at the Bal Mabille / CC PDM 1.0 (Public Domain)