One of the most important people in the whole Watergate scandal is often over-looked, and even barely remembered today. But Martha Mitchell was one of the first, and most prominent whistle blowers of the whole Nixon scandal.
Sure, we all remember Deep Throat (now publicly named as Mark Felt), but we know little about the role the wife of John Mitchell played. He was Nixon’s Attorney General, and head of CREEP. Martha often listened in on her husband’s phone calls, and heard first hand him planning the response to the break in.
Dismissed as delusional by an uninterested press corp, she posed such a danger to the conspirators that she claims she was kidnapped, drugged, and beaten to keep her silent.
And now she has an effect named after. The Martha Mitchell Effect is when a person is labelled as deluded, even when telling the truth. When what she should be being remembered for is speaking up as soon as she found out about the conspiracy.
In the 1990s, Norway realised that its windfall from the discovery and exploitation of North Sea Oil would eventually come to an end. Where the UK had used this new revenue to fund massive Thatcherite tax cuts, Norway realised that it had to protect this money for future generations. With audacious foresight, the country began investing all of the oil revenue into assets abroad.
The sovereign wealth fund is now worth over a trillion dollars.
It owns 1.3% of every listed company in the world, and is ethically managed, sometimes even voting against large companies such as Apple on corporate governance issues.
It is worth $192,000 per person in Norway.
And the Government allows itself to use 4% of the fund in its own budget.
The fund is growing so big that this number might need to be revised downwards.
No doubt there are valid counter-arguments to this approach, and that the way the UK did it was sensible too, but I can’t help feeling it’s another way we pissed everything up the wall (see also Right To Buy).
It’s been a bad year, for so many people, for so many reasons. It might be cathartic to list all the bags that have been filled with shite, and use creative swear words to vent some pent up impotent rage, but that would make this blog about eight days long, and we’d still only scratch the surface.
That said, I have figured out one simple thing we can all do in 2018 that will stop things getting worse and worse every day.
It’s officially Festivus. I have my pole up, and we’ve set aside an area for the feats of strength later. But it doesn’t truly begin until we do The Airing Of Grievances.
So, let’s start.
You, I don’t like the way you sniff too much, and the way your fat face goes wonky when you smile. And your eyes are too small. What’s more, your blinkered belief that you can structure a sentence, and string out a plot is nothing but self-delusion. And why you insist on trying to write a blog every day is beyond me. You’re a giant lump of congealed snot of the bumface of humanity.