It's been an interesting week here in our new headquarters, legislatively speaking. The idiocy of attempting to ban 'glorification' of anything, let alone something that there is no accepted definition of, will be discussed in a later post.
On the other hand, New Labour (or, I Can't Believe It's Not Thatcher) have finally done something right. Following the trend in the civilised world, our floundering, headline-seeking, headline-lead government has passed legislation to ban smoking in all enclosed spaces, excepting personal homes, hotel rooms, care homes, penitentiaries, and hospitals. And it's about fucking time, just in case I haven't tipped my hand already.
What strikes me about the debate over this kind of legislation is the threadbare arguments trotted out by the 'Hospitality Industry', in their instinctive fear of anything that might upset the delicate sensibilities of their discerning clientele. I've seen the same predictable furore in Winnipeg, Waterloo, Toronto, Ireland, and now England (Scotland and Northern Ireland already have bans, and Wales will have its own vote soon).
First, there's the 'It will kill off the marginal pubs that are only hanging on through the custom of those drinkers who can't fathom alcohol without a cigarette.' wheeze. This is your garden-variety Accusation of Elitist Persecution of the Working Man, and leaving aside the argument's patronising core, it's groundless. There is usually a brief dip in custom as smokers indignantly stay at home which may well hasten the end of some failing bars, but it never lasts. There is a basic human desire to get royally fucked up in public, and righteous anger melts before it like ice in a double Vodka-Redbull. Business picks back up, smokers soon learn that they can meet and greet their fellow tar-stained addicts in outdoor smoking areas, and they eventually realise how much better it is go out without bathing in everyone else's emissions, even if they still like to produce their own.
The second line of attack usually accuses the government of introducing unnecessary regulation, because if bar staff were really worried about second-hand smoke, they'd choose to work in bars that didn't allow smoking. Re-read that sentence, but replace 'bar staff' with 'factory workers', and 'second-hand smoke' with 'asbestos'. See how retarded that looks? Businesses are required to provide their employees with a working environment that doesn't cause them harm. It's that simple: Second-hand smoke gives you tumours, and allowing people to work in a smoky environment makes you responsible for their cancers. If your business depends on threatening the health of your staff, maybe you should be in a different business.
There's the usual tobacco industry attempts to cast doubt on the science behind second-hand smoking, but the last major argument is that not allowing people to smoke where they please is somehow an infringement on their personal liberty. Again, an analogy comes in handy here: Say I liked to piss in my drinks when I went out. Fair enough, it takes all kinds, doesn't it? But say I also had such poor unit control that I not only pissed in my drinks, I pissed in your drinks, on your clothes, and in your hair. Am I still within my rights to enjoy my night out the way I like? To stretch things a little, say I had a rare disorder that caused me to excrete dozens of carcinogens in my urine. Cigarette smoke is one of the most disgusting substances known to man; It ruins clothes, it deadens the sense of smell, interfering with the enjoyment of food, and it leaves those of us who aren't regularly exposed to it stuffed-up and hacking up shyte the next day. If you think that you should be allowed to subject me to it, I'd appreciate your coming by to tell me before you light up so I can kick some sense into you.
If you're in London and you're fretting about how the bar scene will change, take a road trip to Edinburgh, or New York, or Dublin. That's right: Dublin. Would you believe that pub landlords argued, with a straight face, that the Irish would stay out of bars if they were no longer allowed to smoke while they drank? If you took every last drop of alcohol in the world and surrounded it with a river of lava, the Irish would form human bridges over it, with the elderly sacrificing themselves so as to ensure that the young could have the same chance to drink themselves into oblivion that they'd enjoyed. Going out improves immeasurably when you don't have to deal with clouds of smoke just to get a drink in, I promise. I've seen it before, and I welcome it whole-heartedly in my new home.

I've found that after an extended hiatus, the best way for me to get back into regularly posting is to start with inconsequential updates and work my way back up to full-fledged rants.
With that in mind, you may notice some gradual changes to the design around here, starting with a few tweaks to my sclerotic sidebar.
Nick seems to have finally re-entered the bilesphere after a long absence marked by stuttering comebacks, not unlike the Wu-Tang Clan. Let us fervently hope that their return is on par with Nick's.
Everyone's Favourite Little Gay South Asian Political Dynasty Scion has allowed his blog to die off, and in searching for a suitable replacement, I've settled on someone who, while he isn't as interested in all-male three-ways, does share Rafi's breast fetish. Ladies and gentlemen, meet my big brother Alex. You may recognise him from such hits as Craig's Personality, Craig's Outlook on Life, and Craig's Formative Male Role Model. Let's have a warm round of applause.
Writhe and Shine, while it was side-splitting at the time I first included it, has gone the way of many independent comics, disappearing up its own self-referential asshole before slowly petering out. In it's place, allow me to introduce you to Achewood. I cannot recommend Achewood enough. It is free-form and sprawling, but fully fleshed out with a plethora of characters and plotlines that are bound together with a continuity that is surprising and delightful. The art is crisp and minimalist, getting across the essential elements without overcomplicating a simple medium. In essence, this is what comics should, and can, be. The current storyline involves two of the major characters in what's shaping up to be a lengthy series, so this is a good time to pick up the story. If you really want to understand what's going on, the archives stretch back to the beginning of the strip, and all of the major characters have 'in-character' blogs.
Finally, 1142 is gone. Metafilter is self-involved enough, but a private community of people drawn from Metafilter? What the hell was I thinking? I think I visited about four times, and the last three occasions involved me forgetting my login details. Boing Boing has taken it's place, upstaging MeFi in all categories despite over-reliance on Copyright themes and shameless self-promotion of the editor's own writing. Not that we have anything against shameless self-promotion around here. Prospective employees are often taken aback by the ten foot classical nude of myself that I had installed in the atrium of our new headquarters.
A few strong candidates didn't make the cut due to technicalities in our linking policy that may soon be subject to change.
Copper is a lushly illustrated (and surprisingly, entirely computer generated) monthly strip that I love as much as Achewood, for entirely different reasons. It's part of the consistently high-grade Bolt City empire.
Tariq is a fellow Waterloo alumnus who has recently moved to Winnipeg to take a course in Law. I know him only by reputation, but it's a good reputation, and watching someone from Central Canada experience his first Western Winter makes for excellent reading. Izzle pfaff!, Kafkaesque, and Defective Yeti also missed the cut because I'm reluctant to link to people that I've never met. As I said, the policy is under review.
Stand by for further changes.