In July last year, I saw a Shiny Tinman floating by the Bankside…
*Clicky, I walked past him twice; I couldn’t see how he did it… he’s on a hidden seat, supported by the pole and anchored by the base… Leggy explained exactly how it was done on DM but I’m buggered if I can find…
*No, Clicky, DM… Direct Message on Twitter… Although my boss at the time did call me Penfold… I think it was my glasses…*
*Crikey! No, Commish called me Pepper…*
*Yeah, I miss my chats with Commish… Nevermind, what’s done is done…*
*******
The other day Thoughtful Man brought to my attention a post on his FaceArseBook feed: ‘10 Terrifying Toys From the Past‘. Now, if you’re of a nervous disposition, or require a designated ‘safe space’, can I suggest that you refrain from employing Clicky to explore the link, and go find a quiet corner in which to curl up and cry…
So then, creepy and dangerous toys that were given to children by adults. A couple caught my eye, although all of them sync…
*A shambles… /waits… Clicky, I said shambles… Oh for god’s sake! Get over here and dry your eyes…*
And Hugo…
*Hmm, I wonder if Mike Myers once got a Hugo for Christmas…*
A live bird automata…
*No, Clicky, that’s a man in a bird suit…*
And, syncing with Red Frank’s latest post on MEROVEE…
*Actually, Clicky, No.10 the guillotine toy is sort of Frankish what with it being inspired by the French Revolution… And it was named after a doctor… /grins… Ha! Did you see the the fall…*
Last night I read a post of Cade’s at Sync Miss For Him. One in which he used his formula, and it got me thinking of Helen Keller and how she was taught to write…
In 1886, Keller’s mother, inspired by an account in Charles Dickens’ American Notes of the successful education of another deaf and blind woman, Laura Bridgman, dispatched young Helen, accompanied by her father, to seek out physician J. Julian Chisolm, an eye, ear, nose, and throat specialist in Baltimore, for advice. Chisholm referred the Kellers to Alexander Graham Bell, who was working with deaf children at the time. Bell advised them to contact the Perkins Institute for the Blind, the school where Bridgman had been educated, which was then located in South Boston. Michael Anagnos, the school’s director, asked 20-year-old former student Anne Sullivan, herself visually impaired, to become Keller’s instructor. It was the beginning of a 49-year-long relationship during which Sullivan evolved into Keller’s governess and eventually her companion.
Anne Sullivan arrived at Keller’s house in March 1887, and immediately began to teach Helen to communicate by spelling words into her hand, beginning with “d-o-l-l” for the doll that she had brought Keller as a present. Keller was frustrated, at first, because she did not understand that every object had a word uniquely identifying it. In fact, when Sullivan was trying to teach Keller the word for “mug”, Keller became so frustrated she broke the mug. Keller’s big breakthrough in communication came the next month, when she realized that the motions her teacher was making on the palm of her hand, while running cool water over her other hand, symbolized the idea of “water”; she then nearly exhausted Sullivan demanding the names of all the other familiar objects in her world.
And speak…
To communicate. I have no idea if that was Cade’s intention but that’s what it did for…
*And you, Clicky… /strokes snout…*
Library of Libraries 
‘10 Terrifying Toys From the Past‘ – a ready-made Christmas list for some of your readers.
Not exactly ‘terrifying’ in itself, but many an adventurous lad was given a ‘chemistry set’. With the application of a little further knowledge he would be quite capable of progressing to the stage where the end result would *nowadays* result in an unappreciative visit from the bomb squad, the anti-terrorist squad, and an armed response unit. Simultaneously.
Whatever your other readers do, I advise them to not Google The Anarchist’s Cookbook, The Chemistry of Powder & Explosives nor the U.S. Army Improvised Munitions Handbook.
RooB usually ends her post with a ‘Have a song’; instead, have a visual:
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JP, your poor mother… how much stuff did you blow up as a kid?
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Oh we were blowing stuff up all the time as kids 🙂
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And we survived!
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And scary children’s elf and safety adverts.
‘Sensible children. I have no power over them.’
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Sensible children beware of Douglas… 😉
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>>>>To communicate. I have no idea if that was Cade’s intention but that’s what it did for…
You know…once upon a time, Stephen Hawking needed a new assistant. I’ll be goddamned if whatshername didn’t apply for the job for me without me knowing because I refused to do it. She said she did anyway. She also applied for me to be a caretaker/tourguide at some English castle. She of course told me these things after the fact, and yes…I was a little “peeved.” I doubt that she sent my resume to Stevie cause there was quite a lengthy application/interview process as I recall. Plus, I think you had to be a doctoral candidate and have a Masters in physics or math or both or…whatever. I suck at math. I suck at math cause I choose to. I understand it, and it scares me. I see big numbers and they make sense…it’s scary.
But yeah, of all things…communication/communications and language and life fascinate me. I don’t try to “figure it out” per se. Just try and figure out how to make things work.
Unfortunately…I am a renegade and a rogue and a loner wherever I go. Odd for someone who gets along so well with people eh?
I think about Hawking quite a bit. He’s a fighter. And it breaks my heart to think of him sitting in a wheelchair for another 20/30 years unable to communicate. Yes…I really do see Stephen Hawking living that long and longer. But not so much if he has no one to communicate with or no means to communicate, That said, also, he is also kindof a “pinnacle” type character that allows those around him to shine. It seems, that maybe….just…maybe…God does play dice after all. I think that God may be choosey about which back alley he chooses to shoot dice in and with who. Can’t have the creator of the Universe shooting craps with a bunch of low-life characters…it would be bad for God’s character. (It’s not like Jesus hung out with the losers and scumbags or anything. I think Buddha and Mohammed were similar as I recall.)
But yeah…communicating…I’m trying.
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Perhaps they like your sneakers, Cade…
Trying to write a post on fields… Have a Song…
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You’re weird.
Your weird.
Yor we’re’d.
😛
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