Author: Araminta

Lies, damned lies and statistics

Warning: this is very long. It is a response to a blogger on MyT, who quoted some statistics.

If you are remotely interested in responses thereon, here is the post.

It was intended to explain a little more about the use and misuse of statistics, and how demographic projections are produced and their validity.

Some observations  from the Pew Report.

All the statistics  and quotations, unless otherwise attributed are from this report entitled “The Future of the Global Muslim Population -Projections for 2010-2030” and from  here “Faith on the Move-The Religious Affiliation of International Migrants”

But before I begin, I would remind you of a particularly misleading video clip which has been doing the rounds for quite some time. This is one of the many examples of how statistics, and these particular numbers are wildly inaccurate, are used in an alarmist way.

Continue reading “Lies, damned lies and statistics”

Was Hitler Left Wing?

Was Hitler left wing and were the Nazis Fascists?

When I was taught history at school, I vaguely remember that Hitler was most definitely right wing. Now I know that the party Hitler first joined was the popular German Social Democrat Party, which was then renamed the National Socialist German Workers Party, or the Nazi Party, which shifted the balance from Socialist to Nationalist. The appeal in the first instance was most definitely to the workers and the unions, but Hitler engineered the split eventually from the GSD socialists because he abhorred socialism and communism.

Continue reading “Was Hitler Left Wing?”

Uninvited Guests: New Poetry Competition

Uninvited Guests

How could they do it? Cheek she cried;
Feathers all a’fluff.
They could have rung or written,
What arrogance for sooth!

Oh course, we would have said please do;
Forsaking total truth;
Just a courtesy to say;
We want to come and see you dear,
And when can we arrive?

Continue reading “Uninvited Guests: New Poetry Competition”

The Tiger: March Short Story Competition

It was only his first term at School. The Child was homesick and miserable at first, but he was only seven. He hated the noise and bustle, and the strangeness of it all. He missed his mother and his sisters, and home seemed so very far away. Be a brave chap, his father had said, and he tried his best to fit in, and did not mention his unhappiness in his letters to his mother. Continue reading “The Tiger: March Short Story Competition”