The Master

One of the highlights of my excellent high school education was in choral singing.  I’d joined the Prep School Choir (after a rather terrifying audition), and when I moved from Prep School to College (a distance of about fifty yards — literally, College started in the next quadrangle over), I joined the College Choir.

The St. John’s College Choir was famous in South Africa.  We performed often, sometimes live concerts at the school and elsewhere, and sometimes radio performances (usually transmitted live from our chapel).  It was as close to a professional choir as one could get — actually, I’ve been in professional choral groups that weren’t as professional as we were.

The man who ran the thing was our choir master, James “Jimmy” Gordon, a tall, very classy 40-ish man of unbelievable talent as a singer, church organist (we had a 72-pipe organ in the chapel) and teacher.  It was generally accepted that Jimmy could have made a good living as a singer or an organist — even, perhaps, as a concert pianist;  but there he was, in St. John’s College, teaching a bunch of young hooligans such as myself to sing sacred choral music.  His mastery of the choir and of its music was absolute, yet he was patient, self-effacing but a relentless perfectionist for all that.  Here’s an example.

Our choir had about sixty members, and we were rehearsing a piece by, I think, Mozart or Handel.  At one point he stopped the choir with a raised hand, pointed to me and said, “Du Toit, that was a lovely harmony you sang at bar 28 — but it’s not what the composer wrote.  Kindly read your part properly and sing accordingly.  Now, again from bar 14…”  He could pick out not only a dissonant voice, but could identify its owner, out of sixty choristers.

As I said, he was endlessly patient, and I only ever remember him losing his temper twice, and venting his anger at the miscreants.  (No prizes for guessing who was one of them.)

We (and I) did not deserve to have him;  but we did, for five whole years.  And as my voice changed from soprano through alto and finally to first tenor, my ability grew and grew until I could read any piece of music, and sing any part of it.  It was, and remains, a priceless gift from this extraordinary man, James Gordon.  I’m only glad he never heard me perform with the rock band — he’d have cringed at what I did to my voice.

Jimmy passed away last week at age 91, and I only learned about it via my sister’s link to the school’s website.  Here’s his obituary, and if I can say anything about that and the tributes that accompany it, it’s that they don’t do him justice.

Thank you, Jimmy, from the bottom of my heart, and R.I.P.


Clayton House (1971)

 

Disparity

Salary inequity has been a contentious issue ever since Zarg the Chieftain gave Thirg a larger shield than Krell, even though the latter had killed more Dalegians in the last battle.   Here’s a more modern take on the thing:

The longstanding BBC sitcom [Mrs. Brown’s Boys] has reportedly lost Damien McKiernan and Gary Hollywood, who play couple Dino and Rory.
It’s reported they quit after discovering they earn less than other cast members.

I’ve said before that what people are paid really depends on how much they contribute to the success of the enterprise.  Where this starts skirting close to the reef is the question:  who decides what the relative contribution is worth?   Of course, the standard answer is “the boss” (whether a department head or the CEO, whichever is more relevant), but of course whenever you leave the decision to a single person, there will inevitably be some bias during the process — hence the formation of pay grades, compensation committees and the like.

Even that’s not perfect.  In the Army, for example, a pay grade applies to everyone in that classification — but being the Army (i.e. a government department), the output of the individuals is subordinate to the rank:  all sergeant majors of equal service length get the same pay, even though some sergeant majors (I’m looking at you, Sar-Major Wilkinson, you disgusting fat fuck) aren’t worth the dirt it would take to cover their useless corpses in a shallow grave.  (Not that I ever thought about that, of course).

I also quiver with rage when I hear stories of VPs complaining that a top salesman’s commission results in his being paid more than a VP.  (My simple response:  “Financially speaking, he’s an earner while you’re just overhead.”)

I was never in a position to do this, but if I were running a company, I think I’d post all salaries on the bulletin board so that every employee could see their relative value to the company — but nobody would be allowed to question the merits or non- thereof where managers and such were concerned, because having a clerk quibble about his manager earning twice his salary would inevitably show that the manager’s value to the company was in fact four times a clerk’s, so in fact the clerk was being over-paid.  (And if it wasn’t… draw your own conclusions.)

The onus of explanation and justification, therefore, would devolve to senior managers (or even the CEO), because it’s that important an issue, even if for no other reason than employee morale.

Certainly, this would eliminate 90% of the female whining about pay disparity, especially when disparities are explained in terms of seniority, hours worked and results:  with the corollary that if there is indeed unjustified disparity, the imbalance would be fixed toot sweet.  No reasonable person can argue against this.

Let’s be honest:  the general reason that salaries are kept secret is for management to hide funny business and/or favoritism.  Working in a Great Big Company’s IT department as a computer operator, I once discovered that a boss’s secretary was earning more, a lot more, than I was as a senior “oppie”.  I couldn’t do anything about it because strictly speaking, I wasn’t supposed to have access to the data (but when you’re printing salary checks, it’s kinda difficult to hide the numbers from the guy printing them — which, by the way, is why the salary print runs could only be performed by very senior employees, who could be counted on to be responsible and keep their mouths shut, and I was only allowed to do that because the manager in charge was in hospital having his gall bladder removed).  Nevertheless, after a little digging I discovered that the reason for the seccy’s whopping salary was that she’d been regularly  bonking her boss for the previous five years (at least, having discovered the affair, it was the only logical explanation).  There was nothing I could do about it, of course — I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell anyone — but it did rankle somewhat.  Having the salaries posted on the board would probably have taken care of Mrs. Mattressworthy’s over-payment.

What salary transparency also does, of course, is enable people to see what people at their rank in other companies are earning — another reason that salary data is concealed — although I think that in the long run, it too would be more beneficial from a total business perspective:  if you’re paying more than the industry average for a particular position, telling people that does a sterling job of keeping one’s own employees happy whilst attracting others to joining the company.  Healthy competition, and all that.

When it comes to showbiz, however, I have no clue.  I have spoken before about the value of top-level people such as DJ Chris Evans over in Britishland, but that’s a relatively easy call to make with regard to salaries:  the higher the ratings, the higher the pay (see above for the “earner” aphorism), and in fact since Evans left his job at BBC2, the show’s ratings have dropped massively under his replacement, proving the point.

But individual actors within a show?  No idea — it may well be a subjective decision from the producer (with all the problems that I explained above), or maybe it can be driven by audience response.  (I remember a story about Ron Howard’s salary while he was acting in Happy Days ;  apparently, his canny agent had put a clause in Ron’s contract that he, as the principal character, would always be paid one dollar more than any of the other actors in the show.  So when Henry Winkler’s Fonzie became very popular and his salary rocketed, so did Howard’s.)  But deciding whether Ross was worth more to the show than Phoebe in Friends ?  Fuggeddabahdit.

Which is what the brouhaha in Mrs. Brown’s Boys  seems to be about:  minor characters (always low on the totem pole) are generally open to abuses such as lower salaries, getting written out of the story, and so on.  Sad, but it’s the way of the world.

3 Inexplicable Things

Welcome to a new feature on this here blog, which will look at why strange things happen (or don’t happen) in various categories.  Today:

3 Inexplicable Things About Figure Skating

1.  Even though Jayne Torvill was kinda plain-looking and had a dorky hairstyle, most men would still have bonked her if given the chance.

 

2.  Gay men participate in the activity.

3.  This move hasn’t ever resulted in any sexual harassment cases:

(As my friend Patterson once put it:  “Grab her box and you’re a piggish bastard.  Strap on some skates first and all of a sudden it’s ART.”)

More inexplicable things to follow, as I see them.

Feel free to leave your own contributions in Comments, but restrict them to figure skating.  Violations will be deleted.

Stuff We Already Knew

From Ammo.com I get an email which serves to remind us of one of the consequences of a Biden presidency:

According to Joe Biden’s own website, he plans to put [Ammo.com] out of business:

End the online sale of firearms and ammunition.  Biden will enact legislation to prohibit all online sales of firearms, ammunition, kits, and gun parts.” We’re not telling you who you should vote for, but we do want to inform you of Joe Biden and the Democratic Party’s current position on these Second Amendment issues from the candidate who proudly proclaims:

“In 1994, Biden – along with Senator Dianne Feinstein – secured the passage of 10-year bans on “assault weapons” and high-capacity magazines.  As president, Joe Biden will defeat the NRA again.” 

Like the title of this post says, we all know what these pricks want to do to the Second Amendment:  gut it and do everything they can to make it irrelevant.  (They can’t repeal it, but they can emasculate it with regulation after regulation to render its freedoms moot.)

What saddens me the most — just a little — is that all this new buying of guns by our citizens has drained the shelves and pipeline of ammo and related supplies to the point where National Ammo Day (Nov 19th, mark yer calendars) is going to be really difficult to observe.  (Reminder:  500 rounds or more of rimfire, or 100 rounds or more of centerfire, or reloading supplies sufficient for 500 or more rounds, all to be purchased or ordered on that date.)

It makes me think of this conundrum:

Asking Too Much

American Rifleman asks the question:

The .22 Magnum: Good for Self-Defense?

Short answer:  no.  Longer answer:  Hell, no.

I’m going to put my bias out front:  I love the .22 Magnum cartridge, when I’m shooting it in a rifle.  On varmints, I can personally attest that it’s absolute mustard;  I’ve shot maybe a dozen African silver-backed jackals with the .22 Mag, all were one-shot kills and only one of the little beasts made it more than a couple dozen yards before dropping like a stone.  Rock rabbits (Seffrican:  dassies), maybe thirty or so, with only one which ran off and I never found (probably a clean miss, as there was no blood trail).

And as Longtime Readers know, I carry a little .22 Mag NAA Mini-revolver in my pocket against the threat of snakes when I’m out anywhere near Texas brush country (e.g. the little creek which runs past our apartment complex), but it’s loaded with #9 shot shells, not boolets.

Now:  would it be pleasant to be shot in the face with one of these?  No, of course not.  Would even that stop a hopped-up lunatic with a knife?  You can try it out;  I’ll stick to a .45 ACP, thank you, if that situation presents itself.

As the above article suggests, the .22 Mag is a little powerhouse out of a rifle barrel, but out of the typical short-barreled revolvers which typically carry them:  not so much.  Sometimes you can ask just too much out of a .22 bullet, and self-defense would be one of those times.

News Roundup

Here We Go Again, with acerbic commentary that will make your lips scrunch up like Nancy Pelosi eating a lemon.


turned right instead of left at Damascus, and there he was.


I think this is the first SC judge I’ve may actually have fallen in love with.


ummm no, actual structural racism was in one of your nation’s former colonies, Ginger — that being South Africa — and it was called apartheid Everything else is just a pale shadow.


the only news in this is that the dad was arrested.  Apparently the Australian rozzers want to keep all the paedo-punching for themselves.


and note how the headline puts “de-arrest” in quotes, but not around “woman”.  And speaking of weirdos:


yup.  Hoofbeats are definitely getting louder.


a Democrat lying about gun control?  In other news, polar bears eat seals, sun rises in east, etc.


“pure evil”?  I can think of better examples, quite frankly.  And if “rape” is defined as “sexual intercourse without consent”, how can this be called rape?  Asking for a friend.


not reported:  whether any pins were involved.  (Yeah, he was a sperm donor.)


I think I may have responded “Oh God, yes” to this one.

And finally:

Mrs. Crouch shows off her nipples.  Not that this is news, or anything, but it was a slow weekend.