My meme 16

If you know of any females playing chess over there, please provide the following info + picture:

Age:

Elo rating:

Telephone number:

Club she plays for:

Favourite openings:

Disclaimer: this picture was taken when I was at my handsomest. I am not so handsome now, a bit fat, and into Nihilism too much.

Supporting statement: I’ve been away from England in hope of finding a partner good at chess like me for some time but ran aground with those blasted foreign types! I am now waiting for the right moment to set sail and make blighty my home again for the right chess player -this is not some last ditch attempt!

Testimony from ex-girlfriend: He can be a good laugh sometimes, and I suppose he is alright, but he gets drunk a lot and when he does he just goes on and on about chess all the time -you can’t shut him up! It did my head in, so I booted him out. Loads of women have, so I’m not surprised he’s after someone who’s more into chess than me now -I don’t think anyone else could put up with him! He woke me up in the middle of the night completely off his head once. Then put loud heavy metal music on and asked if I wanted to play some bullet chess! But when sober, I suppose he is alright yeah -he’s just kinda a bit lost! With the right woman he’d probably be alright tbh.

Testimony from English chess player: Mark would make a good husband if he found the right chess player, and he does need to go home yes. His main weakness is he always panics because he thinks his time is running out, grabs hold of whatever he can, then messes everything up. The same is true of his chess -that’s just him. His heart is in the right place but his head is messed up. Whenever you go round his to play chess he always puts mad music on and gets plastered. Many girls he’s been with didn’t like that, it drove some of them up the wall because he goes berserk sometimes! He never causes anyone any harm though. He’d probably be a good catch if he stopped playing that mad music all the time! Other than that, yes he’s a decent enough fellow.

Recent Opponent: Mark is a very polite English guy and a good chess player but at the tournament we played in, he kept listening to music and went all crazy. It scared some of the people playing and even me. He’s completely normal at the table when he plays but when he goes outside whilst waiting for you to move, he always plays music and acts all crazy. It’s like a bomb’s gone off in his head or something! He asked me if I knew of any girls that played chess. I actually know one who does and who likes him. She thinks he’s dead funny. She also said when he puts music on, it’s like a bomb gone off in his head. She likes how he tries to get his opponents drunk. He tried that with me too but I said no.

Former Landlord: He is a good guy but I had to ask him to find somewhere else. What on earth happens to him when he listens to that music of his I don’t know -I’ve never seen or heard anything like it! He be like a Jekyll and Hyde character. He’d sit in his room studying chess all day and not make a peep, then suddenly you’d get the most dreadful music I’ve ever heard played full blast for hours and he’d go mental -trying to fly around the room and jump all over the place -all this throwing his head about stuff, falling over furniture and smashing bottles of cider against the walls! When he turn it off, he be alright again and go back to studying the chess. It put the fear of god into the neighbours downstairs, so we had to ask him to find somewhere else. I heard he’s looking for an English chess player to settle down with yeah. I think he’d be alright but she’d have to tell him not to play that music of his.

Remarks by McCready: yes okay, I’m not saying any of that isn’t true but all of this stuff happened whilst abroad. Like they say ‘What happens on tour stays on tour’. I’m talking about returning home and living my life out with an English woman who is well into her chess like me -it’s not the same. Things would be different. I would stop listening to music. I would not drink alcohol anymore either. I would stop chasing women as well. All that would be a thing of the past.

Response by Webmaster: we have received numerous complaints about this post already and have removed naughty photographs of Mr. McCready as they violate the terms of our policy.

Former Bangkok chess club member: Hello, my name is Patrick, and I was the pianist for the Bangkok Philharmonic Orchestra when I lived in Thailand. When Bangkok Chess Club was based at the Roadhouse Bar about 10 years ago, there was a jukebox you could use. Mark always made it play mad music that annoyed everyone. One band was called Alice in Chains, they were a grunge band he said. But he didn’t just play one song, it was always lots of them. It was absolute rubbish. We asked the owner to turn it off once. I don’t think it’s a good idea for English women to marry him unless they have some good earplugs -dreadful.

Luton Chess Club Member: Hello, I am Mr. Mirza a member of Luton chess club. I used to drive Mark to county matches in the 90s before he left England and became a ladies man. He always talked about music in my car and made me play some once -Danzig it was called. It was mad stuff and nearly caused me to crash my car, so I turned it off. Mark, though, is not the only one to play chess for Luton who liked mad music. There was another called Nick something who did, he liked The Sparks. Another called Paul something, he liked the same sort of stuff as Mark, and John something also, he used to go dancing in the woods at night -it’s more of a Luton thing than a Mark thing I would say. We don’t think we could help Mark find a suitable partner. He always used to say Philosophy graduates were the best not chess players, then it was heavy metal maidens, then rock chicks, then punk rockers, then goth girls. What will it be next I wonder -what a ladies man!

(note to self: stop bloody reading about Pathos in Rhetoric by Aristotle before you come up with these memes of yours!)

M J M

Reflections 18

Abject poverty -being frozen out

1Imagine the chess club is a good 50 minute walk away, more when the weather is bleak. Imagine it is the winter of 91, England. The snow has been on the ground for weeks, the evenings long, cold and dark. You have no money for transport, no money to buy winter clothes and have to walk in something worse than this.

I had to use an elastic band to hold it together, I mean the trainer on my right foot, but often it snapped and the sole just flapped as I trudged through the snow on the pavement and slipped on the ice crossing roads. Always I had to stop somewhere and sit on a low garden wall where the stone was bare and snow left untouched. It made my bottom wet as I bent down to dislodge the snow in my trainer with my index finger. To make matters worse, I only had rechargeable batteries in my walkman and they died in no time at all.2

When I arrived at the chess club, I had to defrost my foot. Usually my sock would have a big hole in it. I always went to the bathroom to attend to that: best case scenario was I had to spend the entire evening playing chess with a wet bottom, a wet sock on, and with my level of concentration affected. On the walk back home, the only solace came when I would tell myself it wasn’t important that I lost again, ‘I have been been beaten by so many -one more loss doesn’t matter. Even if I had the money to buy new trainers, it won’t make any difference’, I said to soften the blow, that helped abate hunger also, myself too poor to buy chips on the way home. Then, at the end of the evening, I would just lie on my bed and look through the window at the starry sky above, succumb to solitude, feel nothing about how my play went, slide into some reverie about the summer slowly, and sleep. A month or more passed, each week the same… .

  1. Picture taken Kuwait 2008, yes thats moi. ↩︎
  2. That winter the main band I listened to was Queensryche. I should explain further that I was studying at a college and had no money all year long. ↩︎

M J M

Photo hunt

Pic of reigning school chess champion in Norfolk before I left school, only just turned 16. I am to the left. I have a green notebook in my pocket but what is it?

I, sort of look, a little studious here. 🙂

With Bob Hope and no hope the only two hopes I have at being good at chess, the rather radiant move below, that being 18. Nc6 is, above my level very much. The analysis required is so deep, and imagination is required as well. Yes I note that white wants to remove the dark-squared bishop which is a key defender but it looks like Black has enough still. Way, way, way above my level.

18. Nc6 played

https://www.chessgames.com/perl/chessgame?gid=1034337

I found this game from surfing this: Tim Krabbe

M J M

Who doesn’t like mad positions? What is black meant to play here? It’s another Soviet Championship game, this time between Balashov and Beliavsky, from 86. The move played looks rather suicidal to me but this position is too difficult to know what’s best imo.

Black plays 14. …b4.

https://www.chessgames.com/perl/chessgame?gid=1024991

You can find analysis in the recommended publication below.

M J M

One of Karpov’s best games and such a sublime and elegant move. This is Karpov v Dorfman, Soviet Championships 1976. Way above my level but so beautiful. Most would just want to grab material with dxe7, which is hardly going to win you the game. Karpov knows best.

Karpov plays 28. Qf3!

https://www.chessgames.com/perl/chessgame?gid=1067966

You can find analysis here.

M J M

My meme 15

M J M

My meme 14

M J M

My meme 13

NB. Perhaps I ought to explain that this is an attempt at irony since I do consider Barrack to be the most politically astute president the US has had for a very long time, and I do know he is a keen Scrabble player too.

M J M

Reflections 17


‘A shadowed pool in one of the hollows was hardly to be distinguished from the dark earth, except that it was covered with white crowfoot flowers as with five minutes’ snow…over all, the ancient beeches stood up with hard sculptured holes supporting storey after storey of branch and shade which were traversed at the top and at the fringes by fair fresh leaves.’

Edward Thomas, The Heart of England (1909), Chapter VIII, Garland Day

A changing of the guard

Consequences are a curious thing, can’t we say? For how do we know where they shall take us?1 Only early this afternoon I left a voice message to a French friend now in Grenoble, seconded to a university there. ‘I don’t quite know where that is but do recall passing through Strasbourg on the train once, is it near there?’ I asked uncertain of what his answer would be. Bored stiff soon after, I scrambled to look it up and not just that, loaded that long forgotten journey I took on to the ever gracious google maps. Something so incidental in Salzburg, Austria tells twice of that encountered en passant en route to Paris; one which revealed what had already passed, one which reveals what lay on the tracks ahead.

To preface matters, the season I stopped playing chess competitively was 96-97, when academia came to the fore: the season done, the semester halted, summer months abound; by plane, by train, and by car around central Europe, I sauntered with mates found on the Erasmus Exchange Programme in Finland previously that academic year, linking up with one in Gdansk, Poland and those scattered across Austria. For the finale, I took a train from Saltzburg to Paris in mid-August 97, the encore the Eurostar home.

Two things occured on that train to Paris, which upon reflection, help me grasp aspects of the past better. The first that whilst on the train, I passed through Baden-Baden, Germany unwontedly. First proof of chess being a thing of the past at that time it was. I did not know the route well nor where I was, having been on the train for many hours and slept through Munich already. The train did not stop, chess was not timetabled in, the morning light that fell upon that spa town where many great figures once played, I took a look at yes but it had little interest in -it being merely something of a surprise. In fact: I do not recall the last time I thought about this upon reflection, as it never did seem important -further proof.2 It’s not about the facts but the interpretation of them, which you roll with, those in postmodernism, and its neighbouring discourses, will gladly tell you: today, Baden-Baden was no more than a brief moment in time, representing that which had already passed; and now stands upright only, supporting a strongly held, well justified belief.

Something else occurred on that train, also unexpected, but more telling. I shared the carriage with a girl who was studying Philosophy and we spent time talking about it and my spirits rose. She seemed somewhat impressed that I had visited Wittgenstein’s house in Vienna, her English excellent I noticed. She was tanned, wore glasses, had medium length dark hair, wore a blue shirt and cardigan, and had a sharp intellect. I don’t remember exactly what I said but something splurted out and put a smile on her face, whatever it was. I also can’t say what I was reading on the train too but I did have something in the green army rucksack I carried, she was also reading, but what I can’t remember as well. I would not have been reading chess, something from continental philosophy, probably Nieztsche. Was it that which started the conversation off? I thinketh not -that was most likely the trip to Wittgenstein’s house! We chatted like strangers on a train do, but she pulled me up on two things rather harshly; the first when I asked her if she was French since we were heading to Paris and her accent was very slight (she was in fact Austrian), the second was related to Jürgen Habermas and probably about his nationality, and me thinking he was Austrian and not German.3 When we disembarked in Paris, she even assisted me in my time there, even though telling her I wanted to go and see the Eiffel Tower gained a very dismissive look, as she was rather cultured it must be said. But help she did, goodbye was said, then the Eiffel Tower I photographed before I kipped on a bit of grass in the burning hot sun near some palace somewhere in the city… .4 I don’t know if I did ask for her details or not, probably I was too shy to, but I quite liked her anyway. Though incidental, that meeting on the train reveals what lay ahead on the tracks.

I suppose the obvious answer is repression but how did I not couple that captured en passant in Europe to that in America the year next? Most unusual! So female Philosophy graduates were in and female chess players were out -not that I was ever interested in any of those.5 My interests had changed and were more life-affirming, as Wittgenstein cropped up in conversation again with another found female Philosophy graduate and much travel together, and to be together, followed soon enough. Perhaps this was not something I could rationalize at the time, it was something I could only encounter. I was more interested in academia and travel by then and not chess…I suppose I must have been young and free or something like that…. .6

‘Historians too can turn the same landscape into their discourse. Field patterns today could be compared to those pre-enclosure; population now to that of 1831, 1871; land ownership examine how a bit of the view edges into a national park, of when and why the railway and canal ceased functioning and so on. Now, given that there is nothing intrinsic in the view that shouts geography, sociology, history, etc., then we can see clearly that whilst historians and the rest of them do not invent the view (all that stuff seems to be there all right) they do invent all its descriptive categories and any meanings it can be said to have.’

Jenkins, Re-thinking History, pg. 10-11 (Routledge 1991)

M J M

  1. Try researching consequentialism if you are peeved by deontological ethics. For this I am forever indebted to lifelong source of inspiration and by far the most intelligent man I have ever met in my life Prof. Daniel. D. Hutto. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daniel_Hutto ↩︎
  2. It really was of no real importance. Why would it be if you had left that thing behind already? Should it be the case today, I would want to get off that train and visit the venue the chess took place in. That would be a big thing for me today. ↩︎
  3. How he came into the conversation I simply cannot recall, that is far too difficult to do but it has always been the case that I have never enjoyed reading him much. Probably because his interpretation of Nietzsche I found to be questionable and limiting, I always remember thinking I never really saw the point in reading him. ↩︎
  4. I’m assuming there must be more to this than I can remember, or alternatively, that I was something of a raconteur back then. As my friend Paul, who the person alluded to in the following paragraph correctly informed me, was my best friend, found this extremely amusing and many times reminded me of this. What I told him I don’t know, probably I overplayed my displeasure at being told by a policeman I was not allowed to sleep there and told to move on! All I recall was the palace had some sort of glass roof, and it was huge as were the roads around it…whichever bit of the city that was! ↩︎
  5. This is not entirely true. Aged 18, I played in the same tournament as one I fancied for a happy couple of days. She was quite well-known in the south of England, so I am rather reluctant to say her name. And how could I possibly forget that bloody twat who went and opened a large wooden door that led to the quadrant of the grammar school we played in so forcibly I couldn’t get out of the way in time, just as she was walking towards me! And being young, incredibly shy, and completely useless at everything, I froze at his apology then shot my mouth off with an excessively polite reply said loudly to catch her attention, forgetting to curtail my blunt Luton accent as it burst through, making me sound more mentally challenged than skilled at chess! She smirked and I carried on walking, completely oblivious as per usual! ↩︎
  6. There was another train journey involved over there! This time to Yale University, Connecticut. A conversation was held in New Haven regarding Nietzsche, with a work by Maudemarie-Clark referred to, and briefly Wittgenstein also with a fellow Jewish friend of Rachel’s named Josh -a very gifted academic! SEE PIC BELOW I’m not sure what the moral of this story is…that all around the globe Philosophy has more girls worth getting than chess as they tend to be more loquacious than those sat staring at a board for hours on end all the time perhaps! ↩︎

This pic was taken by Rachel just a few days before so (or was it after?). Do I look like the sort of person interested in chess here? Or do I look like someone much more into exercise (note the adidas cycling shorts), travel (pic taken in NYC) and adventure (I requested we go to Coney Island)?