Thursday, April 24, 2025
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Nihilism, narcissism and noobnoob as ‘Rick and Morty’ returns

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This week Rick and Morty aired its season finale, after reappearing on our screens without warning earlier this year. We should have probably seen this return coming since Mr Poopy Butthole did predict season three’s air date almost to the day. However, a lot had changed in this year and a half hiatus. Once a show with a cult following, Rick and Morty has now truly entered the mainstream, and with new fans came new criticism.

It is Netflix we have to thank, or blame, for this new wave of ‘fans’ (and I use this term very loosely). With passwords to Netflix accounts being passed around more than a common cold, the show gained a much wider viewership. Unavoidably then, when ‘The Rickshank Redemption’ dropped as a potential hoax on April Fool’s Day, audiences were shocked, surprised, and often disappointed.

This criticism is often from the fi rst-time watchers of the show (rather than us hardened veterans), January converts who want the show to be something it’s not. People who yearn to see our antihero, Rick, simply develop from evil to good when [spoiler alert] it just isn’t that kind of show. Rick will remain a murderous sadistic terro-rick, whether you like it or not.

The writers, Dan Harmon and Justin Roiland, even tease us with a tragic backstory in ‘The Rickshank Redemption’, a cleansed Rick in ‘Rest and Ricklaxation’ and the Simple Rick that fans wanted to see in ‘The Ricklantis Mixup’. But all these deviations from the nihilistic norm were either fake-outs or false dawns.

All we are left with is a Rick whose entire arc is to find the hallowed Mulan McNugget Szechuan sauce. A Rick who exploits the most tender memories to make biscuits for sale to his fellow Ricks. If our protagonists won’t even answer a “literal call to adventure” as in ‘Vindicators 3’, then they won’t answer fickle fan’s call for the show to change.

This season continued the dark humour, clever storylines and shocking character twists we have come to love. From erasing people’s memories to murdering alternate versions of himself and his grandson on an incredible scale, Rick emotionally (and physically) battles with himself and all those around him, dragging Morty along for the ride.

This season wasn’t without its faults however, with ‘Rickmancing the Stone’ being a markedly poorer episode and the finale not hitting quite as hard as that of season two. There were also some notable absences from this season, like Birdperson and Tammy not making any appearances, and ‘Morty’s Mind Blowers’ replacing ‘Interdimensional TV’.

Yet, let’s not forget that this season contained undoubtedly the show’s fi nest episode, ‘The Ricklantis Mixup’ which stunned even the harshest critics into silence. The twisted world of the Citadel, where divisions are exploited by the Rick’s at the top and paid for by the lives of Morty’s on the bottom is wonderfully crafted using shock, satire and a ‘Stand by Me’ parody. The mind-blowing return of Evil Morty after two seasons is just another hint towards the show having a greater narrative and another example of the writer’s incredible attention to detail.

‘Windows’ review: ‘Poignant and relevant’

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The complex dynamics between the characters of Windows are established remarkably effectively by the wordless opening scene. Each of the three acts begins with a silent enactment of the interwar middle-class March family eating together, with the placement, body language and facial expressions of each character communicating an impressive amount regarding their feelings, personality and relationship with the others. This first is perhaps most revealing, showing breakfast sped through, as wife Joan rushes her food to go and start her shopping list, and husband Geoffrey absentmindedly steals her chair to read his paper by the window – at which she is privately annoyed, unnoticed by him. Son Johnny turns his back on the room after eating to stare broodingly at the audience, and daughter Mary, ignored, wanders aimlessly.

This believable construction of relationships continues throughout, between the lines of what are in themselves fairly unenlightening philosophical conversations. These discussions do to some extent become fairly tiresome, largely involving vague postulating about human nature, moderation and the role of ideals, and conclusions drawn are often shown simply not to fit the real life situations that arise within the play.

This effect, combined with Carolyn Blackhurst’s impressive performance, make practical Joan a remarkably persuasive and understandable character, especially considering how little I actually agree with her views. Blackhurst is incredibly adept at portraying both Joan’s intransigent exterior, and her inner conflict born of unwavering tenderness towards relations she so disagrees with.

But while the constant philosophical discussions can become tedious in themselves, what they reveal about the characters is anything but. Characters’ relationships with ideas and philosophy reveal a great deal about their self-perception, and how they relate to others.

Geoffrey, as a middle class man, has the luxury of being able to play with ideas without having to worry in any personal way about their implications. He is therefore affably but detachedly fascinated by his window cleaner Bly’s story of his daughter Faith’s troubled past, and the man’s philosophising about it. Equally though, he is rather shocked by the idea of employing or even meeting her, until he decides that it might actually be rather fascinating. Joan, on the other hand, to whom the responsibility of running the house falls, is frustrated by everyone’s desire to play with concepts and chase ideals, to the detriment of everything running smoothly. As she points out, it is all very well for everyone to think themselves charitable in pushing to employ Faith, when it is Joan who will have to deal with any problems. Johnny’s promises to help sound like the empty vows of a child wanting a puppy.

This exemplifies how Johnny’s relationship with ideas feeds into the most interesting element of the play: its critique of class relations. Feeling lost and pointless after fighting in the First World War, he clutches at a sense of moral superiority, lecturing about the importance of ideals, and wanting to do good in order to obtain a sense of purpose. He thinks that giving his sister a Chinese burn makes an eloquent point, seeing a lack of violence towards the weak as an example of heroism and chivalry. His attitude towards working-class ex-convict Faith reveals how Johnny’s desire to be chivalrous is essentially self-seeking and parasitic. He self-glorifies, telling her she is small and frail, just like those he fought to protect, and takes it upon himself to ‘save’ her. Ultimately, his frankly childish protest against her dismissal as his family’s maid, camping outside her door with supplies of chocolate and cigars and calling this a ‘hunger strike,’ just causes her further humiliation.

None of the middle-class characters seem to be able to interact with working-class people naturally. Johnny’s hero complex is juxtaposed to Joan’s greater recognition of Faith’s agency, but harsh and illogical belief that poverty is the fault of the individual. Geoffrey’s fascination at Bly’s philosophising doesn’t read quite as respect between equals, but almost like admiration of a precocious child.

What becomes unavoidably clear among these messy interactions is that the survival and dignity of people like Faith should not be at the mercy of individuals – her predicament is a failure of society as a whole, and specifically the state. Perhaps more glaring to modern viewers than original 1920s audiences are the absence of any kind of welfare state, and the fact that Faith’s prison experience has been one of straightforward psychological torture, with no attempt at rehabilitation or any training for employment on release.

Her vulnerability is not, as Johnny decides, an element of her character, but a consequence of her being utterly disempowered by the state and class hierarchy. Everything, from her past crime to her precarious position during the action of the play, has been a consequence of this stripping of power. While Johnny whines about the death of individual chivalry, he completely misses what Faith really needs: not to be paternalistically ‘saved,’ but to be treated as a human being, and be allowed independence and dignity by the system.

Faith’s needs and the flaws within society are communicated clearly before the, rather superfluous, final moments of the performance. A drunken Joan, as though met with an epiphany, rapturously declares that Faith doesn’t want to be saved, she just wants to be loved. She then encourages them all to open the windows, and then stands outside, arms spread wide and sleeves billowing, accompanied by brighter, dramatic lighting. For a performance whose success lies in subtext, and the subtle communication of dynamics and flaws in people’s thinking, this is a disappointingly clunky, and frankly cheesy, note to end on.

In terms of its critique of class relations and the role of the state, though, Windows is a very poignant and relevant play even 85 years after it was last performed, particularly considering the way in which public services are currently being cut. The Finsborough Theatre’s production, with the audience sitting within the wallpapered confines of the March’s dining room set, reminds us where our country has been in a complex deeply personal way, and serves as a warning of what we could feasibly regress towards. A perceptive and moving performance.

Blues play through the night for Um Rio

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OURFC ran a charity 24-hour non-stop rugby event on Friday, the third leg of an iniative that has so far taken place in Rio de Janeiro and St. Albans School, in support of the charity Um Rio – translating as ‘One Rio.’

The charity was founded, and is still run by, an Oxford graduate and Blues Rugby old boy called Rob Malengreau. Football is obviously synonymous with Brazil and it is hard to imagine that ‘the beautiful game’ will be dis- placed anytime soon as the nation’s favourite past-time. However, Malengreau’s charity has managed to use rugby as a tool to bring the children of the favela – the charity importantly helps both boys and girls – together in aid of social integration and has helped to steer them away from the crime and the drugs, which are still all too prevalent.

The charity has created an alternative environment to the gang culture that plagues these areas. In addition, the charity brings together local dentists and doctors to provide these children with a level of healthcare far above anything they would have received if left to fend for themselves.

When speaking to Blues Rugby player Will Wilson and England Sevens player Tom Mitchell, who were leading the event, it was clear how close this project is to their hearts. Mitchell recounted how, when he’d been out in Rio playing for the Great Britain team at the Olympics in 2016, the charity had managed to get tickets for children from the Morro do Castro favela for the Rugby Sevens final.

Wilson, who has also visited Rio and seen the charity’s work firsthand, told of “how amazing an experience being out there was, not just to grow the game but, more importantly, to see how the charity can really change these kids lives.” The charity has so far catered for over 400 children and with the backing not only of Oxford but also now the Cambridge Rugby Club – a contingent from the light blues made the trip out to Rio last year – the future looks bright for the Um Rio project.

New Jesus fresher: Ex-Australian PM Kevin Rudd

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A former Prime Minister of Australia will begin studying at Jesus College this term.

Kevin Rudd was the Prime Minister from 2007 to 2010 and again in 2013, and will be reading for a DPhil on the worldview of the Xi Jinping, the President of China.

He spoke to Cherwell earlier this week, while in Oxford to address the Oxford Union. Speaking about political leaders’ careers after politics, Rudd said: “If you are motivated by the world of ideas… it’s a useful exercise to engage – not only in what I would describe as the day-to-day tactical debate – but on the state of our democracy.”

“I think there is a real responsibility for those who have been in the business to actually defend the institution of democracy. I worry about it suffering death by a thousand cuts.”

Rudd also emphasised that you “don’t have to become some adolescent politician – we’re not all designed to become Pitt the Younger”.

His decision to undertake a DPhil at Oxford comes after he became a Senior Fellow at the Harvard Kennedy School in 2014, where he wrote a paper on the future relations of America and China under Xi Jinping.

He also became the inaugural president of the Asia Society Policy Institute, a political think tank.

As part of his talk at the Oxford Union on Wednesday, Rudd discussed his fascination with Asia – he believes that “we are witnessing a historical turning point” and that “none of this is laid out by the gods”.

He argued that “the West is losing confidence in itself”, and that “China is conscious of this, and conscious of itself representing something else for the future”.

Rudd also labelled President Trump “the definition of an assault on reason” and commented that Brexit and Boris Johnson were part of a worldwide rise in demagoguery.

He weighed in on the recent decision by Balliol JCR to ban the Christian Union from appearing at their Freshers’ Fair. Rudd said:

“The moment we start banning Christian groups from the debate is a very bad day.

“We need to be broad shouldered enough to take opinion from wherever it comes from.”

He also remarked that this generation will be the first to grow up in a post Judeo-Christian world for over 2000 years.

He believes that the Christian settlement gave “place and opportunity for people of no religious belief to fully express themselves.

Now that the boot is on the other foot, I would humbly suggest that there be an open platform for all and that includes voices for the Christian Union”.

Rudd is not the only ex-Prime Minister to spend time conducting research in Oxford. As of March 2017, David Cameron has chaired a commission with the Blavatnik School of Government guiding policy on economic growth in geopolitically fragile situations.

Several other Australian prime ministers have also been educated at Oxford , including Malcolm Fraser, Bob Hawke, and Tony Abbott.

Whilst in government , Rudd was renowned for providing a robust response to the 2008 economic crisis with stimulus packages – Australia was the only major Western economy not to dip into recession.

This was after he led the Labour party to a landslide victory in 2007, with a 23-seat swing towards his party.

He famously delivered a national apology to Indigenous Australians for the ‘stolen generations’.

Rudd was leader of the Australian Labour Party until 2013, when he left politics after losing the election that year.

This will be Rudd’s first degree at Oxford. He previously studied for his undergraduate degree at the Australian National University.

He received a First in Asian Studies, and majored in Chinese language and Chinese history, writing his thesis on democracy activist Wei Jingsheng. Then, in 1980, he continued his studies of Chinese culture at the Mandarin Training Centre in Taipei, Taiwan. Despite missing freshers’ week, Rudd’s views on the Oxford club scene remain unclear.

Political cartoons must now be held to a new standard in the age of Trump

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Remember the political cartoons published on the day Trump was elected? The day of the inauguration? When new information on the ties between Russia and the Trump administration caused mayhem in US politics? Me neither. But I do remember CNN playing in the dining hall back on results day in November, the countless clips of Trevor Noah and Stephen Colbert, and the headlines about the new administration’s DACA decision. And, frankly, the memes, we all remember the memes. So if we don’t remember the cartoons, what role did they play in establishing the current political climate?

Cartoons no longer have the social sway they once did. Though news reporting remains essential, print publications and political cartoons are simply not as important now as when they were one of the only methods of circulating information. However, if viewed as an example of satire, cartoons retain their power to make political statements, call out injustice, and incite controversy, as well as heavy backlash from their unwilling subjects.

Well-known cartoonists like Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Nast, William Hogarth, and Honore Daumier, whose portrayal of King Louis-Philippe as Gargantua famously led the king to comment that while, “a pamphlet is no more than a violation of opinion, a caricature amounts to an act of violence,” were often heavily criticised and even persecuted for their publications. Cartoons no longer garner such strong reactions, but the king’s outrage is not so different from Trump’s reaction to a different incarnation of humour, sketch comedy. See, for example, Trump’s tweets regarding his representation on Saturday Night Live, which include such comments as “@NBCNews is bad but Saturday Night Live is the worst of NBC. Not funny, cast is terrible, always a complete hit job. Really bad television!” or “Watched Saturday Night Live hit job on me. Time to retire the boring and unfunny show,” or “Just tried watching Saturday Night Live – unwatchable! Totally biased, not funny and the Baldwin impersonation just can’t get any worse. Sad.”

In the past, cartoons had value as political influencers and as conversation starters. Before the digitalisation of most media, they were useful in sharing information and helping shape opinions because they reached an audience that didn’t have access to many other sources of information. Though distorted in their representation of reality, they had an almost educational value. Their nature as a visual instead of a verbal medium meant that they did not require literacy, and thus made them less elitist by allowing them to reach an larger audience. Today, most information is available in seconds. Obligatory education and the pervasiveness of media means that in many countries, even a politically apathetic member of the public has multiple sources of information readily available. We no longer need cartoons to tell us how to think.

The value of cartoons is now found in their expression of widely held viewpoints, rather than the controversial opinion of the individual cartoonist or of a limited circle of politically involved elite. Though not all political cartoons are inherently comic, the medium is defined by its use of irony, emotional symbolism, exaggeration, and distortion, all of which translate to bias. These qualities make them a sort of shorthand, a way of synthesizing what many people are already thinking, useful for looking back on a political moment. But the conversations that cartoons once helped start are already happening, and the cartoon itself acts as merely an echo. When viewed as a small part of a larger phenomenon, cartoons offer an example of the essential role satire and humour played in the US 2016 presidential election.

In a post-truth media climate, truth is our most valuable currency and often our most powerful form of protest. People have a hard enough time avoiding fake news and alternative facts as it is. They want ammunition for debate, to engage with the content they consume, and for art and the media to help them understand what is real and what isn’t. Because of its distortion and unavoidable bias, caricaturization is no longer a satisfactory foundation for forming an opinion, unless it is accompanied by something more substantial (statistics, quotations, specific policy decisions).

The trite “a picture is worth a thousand words” is in the most part no longer applicable. Many prefer words allowing them to engage with truth and fact in a way that cartoons, by nature, do not. In comparison to other forms of humour, or even to editorials, cartoons leave the consumer nothing to respond to. Their power, and their curse, is that they demand merely to be taken at face value.

Both cartoons and comedy in more general terms draw attention to inconsistencies in the current administration’s policies and statements while voicing the needs and views of those who are not directly involved in the government. They exaggerate reality in a situation that is, by many moral and logical standards, preposterous, and criticise both government officials and the public who placed them in power.

But not all comedy or criticism is productive, and other attempts to ridicule Trump, like the five naked statues placed in cities across the US or the frequent comparisons to Hitler, have caused controversy for the wrong reasons. Treating comedy, and more specifically cartoons, as anything more than partial representations of one aspect of public opinion would downplay the importance of concrete political action. Cartoons fill an ambiguous category in the wider frame of “culture,” existing at the intersection of art, journalism, and satire.

But despite their value, it is dangerous to exaggerate the extent to which any of these single categories can dictate the outcome of any social change. In today’s political climate, sharing a meme or a political cartoon on social media, even when it perfectly encapsulates your opinion, has the potential to trivialise the very view you are trying to defend. We have a responsibility to use our voices in real conversation and to use laughter to feed our political drive, not satisfy it.

Though cartoons, art, and comedy always have been and will continue to be a powerful social tool, they are effective only when coupled with concrete action.

The alternative guide to Oxford

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Where to go if you want…

To cry post-tute

You’ve emerged into the college quad with your essay eviscerated by the talons of your tutor. Reeling from the bruising encounter, you start to feel tears pricking your eyes – so where do you flee to weep in peace?

If you’re lucky, you’re in your own college and will be able seek solace in the tender embrace of the stash of chocolate biscuits in your room. But you can also go further afield – it all depends what you’re looking for from your crying experience. Recognition? Sympathy? Complete isolation in which to wallow in your pain and self-pity?

If it’s recognition or sympathy you’re looking for, I would have to recommend the centre of the Upper Camera at around 3pm. An iconic spot, packed out with students, and (if you’re lucky) tourist groups, your wails of grief and anguish will certainly be greeted with some degree of notice – even if it is tinged with irritation.

On the other hand, if you’re searching for utter solitude, just head down to the English faculty and sit in the back of a lecture hall. Whether or not a lecture is taking place will not have any serious impact on the emptiness of the room.

To avoid rowers

It’s the week of Torpids, Summer Eights or whatever else is going on in college rowing this week. Understandably, you’re looking to avoid anyone involved and, in so doing, evade the terrifying prospect of being roped into spectatorship. So what do you do? Where do you go?

The most important thing to remember is to put distance between yourself and the river. The closer you are to the river, the more likely you are to hear those haunting words, the stuff of nightmares: “Do you want to come and support us tomorrow?” As such, you should start heading north with as much speed and enthusiasm as possible, probably with headphones on. St Hugh’s serves as a safe haven: do they even have rowers there anyway?

To be scouted for an Oxlove

It goes without saying that the Rad Cam is the ultimate location to be spotted for an Oxlove. But you’ll need to do more than just turn up and read your set-text on Renaissance rhetorical theory. With such huge competition, you’ll need to commit to the cause. Striking an attractive pose is key: sit with a winsome smile playing on your lips as you gaze pensively into the distance, and you’ll be sure to find a suitor. Alternatively, make eye contact with the potential admirer at the desk opposite you. This can be achieved by looking up frequently from your note-taking, or, if you’re feeling particularly desperate for an ode, by maintaining forceful eye contact over the desk partition and fluttering your eyelashes at the wordsmith in front of you.

To see wildlife

Common sense suggests that University Parks might be the best place to search for flora and fauna, with its leafy glades, manicured flower beds and beautiful trees, only slightly trampled by rugby players. Or else you might fancy an afternoon stroll in Port Meadow, where wild horses frolic in bucolic bliss. But there’s no need to go that far – there are many breath-taking wildlife spots closer to home. Start by paying a visit to the college library late at night, where crepuscular creatures with hollow eyes squat over desperately scrawled notes. You might also enjoy the cheese floor at Park End, where sharks, maddened by the scent of fresh fish, have been driven into a feeding frenzy. If you want to seek out nature during the day though, there is no better spot than the Oxford Union, where snakes can be observed slithering around in their natural habitat.

To have a snack post-clubbing

It’s the end of a long night at Emporium: you’ve endured the pain of an empty dancefloor, terrible tunes and an overpriced vodka mixer, and now it’s time to try and salvage the night with a great post-clubbing snack. Your friends are depending on you for a novel suggestion that will transform this night from a calamity into a giant triumph. Which way do you turn?

There’s a couple of easy answers: Hassan’s, Ahmed’s, even McDonald’s. But you’re not going to win friends and influence people with these basic attempts. You need to be more imaginative. You have two options: pick somewhere completely unlikely, and then draw out the night in order to wait for it to open. Otherwise, pick a kebab van which isn’t on your normal walk home. This will undoubtedly improve your night by providing variety, excitement and adventure. It doesn’t matter that anything you’ll eat there will be the exact same as any other kebab van: it’s the journey that counts.

Free food

JCR meetings have few benefits. Dominated by protracted discussion of seemingly meaningless issues, and desperate calls for quorum, it might seem that there is really no reason to attend a JCR meeting, at all.

Yet this is a misguided view. JCR meetings have one redeeming quality: free food. As students, we cannot recommend the possibility of free food highly enough. What could be more appealing than being offered huge amounts of chocolate mini rolls, crisps and pizza just for dropping in. After all, you can always beat a hasty retreat after you’ve restocked.

Christian Union meetings also tend to offer more than just spiritual nourishment, although this is less relevant if you go to Balliol.

A quiet Thursday night

Anywhere other than the Bridge queue.

Saving Cellar was a true victory for people power

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Personally, when I heard the news that Cellar was set to close down, I thought that, despite the campaign, that would be the end of it. The council never listens to what people have to say, right?

It’s fair to say I was mistaken. Cellar has been saved and although it’s not the greatest victory, it should teach us something about the power our voices have.I can hear the complaints: quibbling over the closure of a nightclub is certainly a rather bourgeois and self-indulgent thing to worry about. People are dying from a lack of basic needs, unnecessary war, brutal oppression, and the want of a safe place to call home. The world stands on the precipice of nuclear or environmental disaster and society appears to be arranging in a way such that the super rich survive and the super poor die. Meanwhile, Cellar is just a hipster club full of poseurs: why should we care about it?

Of course, I agree that we need to consider our priorities. We certainly shouldn’t care about Cellar and forget about everything else. The Cellar campaign could – and should – help people become more aware of what they can do.

I am not saying that those who campaigned to save Cellar can now take those skills and solve the menagerie of issues that plague the world, but it’s a start. No justices were achieved from the top down. It takes small changes in each small town.

Looking at the city of Oxford, the campaigning force, now aware of the voice it have in local community, can make a start in combatting injustice at a local level. It can campaign to end the unfair laws and fines placed on the homeless, intended simply as an excuse to evict them.

It can campaign to increase the building of affordable housing – combatting the campaigns of greenfield-living NIMBYs, who, in their self-interests, have artificially driven up house prices, resulting in the effective social cleansing of the city.

It can campaign for greater pedestrianisation of Oxford, improving air quality in the city and making it more peaceful for cyclists and walkers to travel.

Obviously, solving problems in Oxford won’t solve all the problems in the world. There are limits on the impact that a group of students can have, and our expectations should be kept in check.

But, if Oxford can look to itself as a city of justice, fairness, and an example to all, then it can help inspire improvements in other cities around the world: coming together through the medium of music to save Cellar is just the first step.

Instagram’s self-sabotage

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In the midst of the 280-character roll-out on twitter, an insidious rumour has been spreading – Instagram is making another change that nobody wants or asked for and that might come close to destroying your life.

In the ultimate affront to carefully-curated feeds everywhere, a few choice influencers have noticed that their three-image rows have gained a new box, shifting everything along into an unfriendly foursome.

Such testing usually means the app is gearing up to make the change for everyone. In a world where nuclear war is looming, this seems an almost sickeningly petty complaint, but it does raise the question: with users still complaining about the dreaded algorithm change a few months back, why does Instagram keep trying to fix what isn’t broken?

As a bit of background for those not as manically up to date on Instagram’s every move as I am, the aforementioned algorithm change saw feeds moving from broadly chronological order to a sprawl of images ranging from a minute old to a (relatively ancient) few days old depending on a somewhat mysterious group of factors including how relevant the app thinks various photos are to you, what your relationships are to other users, and so on.

While this might sound like a positive step, it ended up leaving smaller accounts in the cold as their images were pushed down people’s feeds, while those who were already popular simply grew more so, helped by the valuable likes of their widely followed friends. This is all entrenching Instagram as a place of cliques rather than a forum for new work and new faces.

Admittedly, altering the grid is a change which has at least some rationale: with phone screens becoming both physically larger and higher resolution, you can fit more images on the screen without that new hair picture turning from bob to blob, and Instagram is right to try and keep up with the tech world.

However, Instagram is akin to LinkedIn for many creatives, and for photographers and stylists who cut their images up and spread them across a number of adjacent slots on their feed, this change – combined with the app’s refusal to introduce a much desired rearranging tool – will prove seriously annoying, turning their portfolio into a nonsensical mess of rogue limbs that won’t sit well with potential clients.

If Instagram do need to make the change, they should do what they failed to do in the past: listen to the valid concerns of their users.

Working at the frontiers of knowledge – and the edge of reason

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Last week, researchers and humanitarians around the world held their breath as the Nobel committee recognised the most significant advances of culture and science – earlier this month, almost 6000 kilometers away at Harvard University, a slightly different (and arguably less prestigious) ceremony honored the most improbable.

Since 1991, the Ig Nobel Prize (a pun on the word ignoble) has sought to recognize real research that “first makes you laugh, then makes you think”, with previous winners pondering into the forces required to drag sheep, and the probability of a cow lying down.

The 26th Ig Nobel Prize brought the same level of inquisition and quirky inspiration that only the Ig Nobels do. For 2017 Ig Nobel Physics laureate and post-doctorate at the Paris Diderot University, Marc-Antoine Fardin, it was noticing the shared ability of fluids and cats to take the shape of their containers that lead him to attempt to calculate the Deborah number of a cat (a ratio expressing the viscosity and elasticity of a material) – concluding that its state was dependent on its ability to relax, with that depending on a myriad of reasons requiring further questioning.

From the UK, GP James Heathcote took to answer the observations of many GPs – why do older people have bigger ears? Approaching 206 patients, a Heathcote and a team of four GPs established a correlation indicating that our ears grow by an average of 0.22mm per year, their success garnering Heathcote the 2017 Ig Nobel in Anatomy.

Oxford hasn’t been short of Ig laureates in the past either. Somerville’s Dr. Helen Ashdown, who shared the 2015 Diagnostic Medicine Ig Nobel Prize for determining that acute appendicitis can be accurately diagnosed by the amount of pain evident when the patient is driven over speed bumps. Noticing in her time as a junior doctor that colleagues would often ask potential appendicitis patients about any potential pain whilst driving over speed bumps on the way to the hospital, Ashdown and fellow researchers found a 97% sensitivity rate between appendicitis and pain felt during driving over a speed bump.

In a press release on regarding the speed bump test, Dr. Ashdown claimed that for diagnosing appendicitis, “in terms of sensitivity of the test actually performed better than some of the tests that doctors very commonly use.”

Joining Dr. Ashdown in Oxford’s Ig Nobel laureates list is fellow of Somerville Professor Charles Spence, winning the infamous prize in 2018 for electronically modifying the sound of a potato chip to make the person chewing the chip believe it to be crisper and fresher than it really is.

Professor Spence’s experiment involved 20 volunteers taking a single bite of Pringle, whilst wearing headphones that would modulate the crunch of the initial bite. His results indicated that “potato chips were judged to be fresher and crisper when the overall sound level was increased and/or when the high frequency components of the biting sound was amplified.”

Though it’s easy to dismiss the Ig Nobel as simply a gimmick, it’s often demonstrations of curiosity and ingenuity that brings out the best in science. Recall the case of Andre Geim – currently the only winner of both a Nobel and Ig Nobel prize.

First gaining attention from winning the Ig Nobel prize for levitating frogs in extremely strong magnetic fields, Geim went on to win his Nobel prize through his continually innovative methods of experimentation, eventually isolating Graphene, a single-layered carbon structure with incredible conductive and structural capabilities, through repeatedly peeling off layers of graphite using gecko tape.

The Ig Nobel is science at its most curious, and that in itself deserves recognition. So as we head towards a week of marvelling at the advances human knowledge by Nobel laureates, spare a thought for the Ig Nobel laureates continuing the curious nature that makes science so appealing.

Cliché of the week: “Nadal is past it”

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“Rafa Nadal is done for”. “This injury will ruin him forever”. “Nadal’s getting old”. Lately, we have heard reporters’ and fans’ prophecies dooming Nadal to retirement or an inevitable dip in his tennis. After all, sometimes Nadal does seem closer to A&E than Centre Court.

No matter how often critics dig his grave, the Spaniard has nine lives or more. After every injury and string of defeats, Nadal keeps biting trophies, not the dust, dominating the clay circuit and the majors.

It’s no surprise though. Nadal has dealt with constant injuries since the beginning of his career. Despite his dodgy knees, Nadal’s work ethic is unbreakable – you feel that determination in his trademark baseline rallies, saving almost any ball, however tough it looks, often with unique passing or banana shots. If he is a “purely physical player” (another cliché), how come his tennis remains jaw-dropping even when he is half-injured?

He gets injured, his level drops, his comeback is stronger – Rafa’s story repeats itself. In 2012, Nadal disappeared for months due to knee injuries. By 2013, he returned for a brilliant season defeating Novak Djokovic (then number one-ranked) among others to win two Grand Slams.

In 2014, Nadal was shaken by back pain, then wrist pain, then appendicitis, but he won Roland Garros anyway. After a dire 2015-16, not only having to weather physical problems but also serious mental issues, including dizziness and self-confessed anxiety, he tumbled down to ninth in the ranking.

You thought it was the end, right? Well, now he is firmly number one and won a tenth Roland Garros plus another US Open. In Beijing, the Spaniard needed another tense comeback against Lucas Pouille and lost some sets, yet he fought back to win the China Open in superb style.

In short, Djokovic and Andy Murray are undoubtedly great players, but look who are still fighting for Grand Slam records: Roger Federer and Nadal’s peaks are past, but they are still out there on the court playing against players sometimes a decade or more their junior.

The longevity, which these two have brought to their glittering careers and the many times that they’ve seemingly resurrected their careers after injuries or setbacks proves that they really do deserve the title of living legends. They prove the show must go on, because they are true champions. Let’s hope they continue to grace the courts of Grand Slams for many years to come.