Last night, Dear Reader, UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson, suffering from the Coronavirus, was admitted to the care of the ICU team at St Thomas’ Hospital…
*Yeah, Jacobi and Lindsay were fuckin’ awesome in it… /lights up and smokes… Butt the ‘ospital was renamed for dowting Thomas after the Reformation…*
… At the same time, Cade and I were remote viewing together a really very interesting documentary about Osiris, Christianity and Gnosticism, and the lost Gospel of Thomas, rediscovered in 1945 at Nag Hammadi in Egypt, featured heavily…
*Knot a stretch, Clicky… /rolls eyes… A joke…*
… There was no mention whatsoever of the Aeon Sophia or the ‘Fallen Goddess Scenario’ in the documentary, although self proclaimed ‘Gnostic teacher’ John Lamb Lash, did appear in it briefly. Twice…
*A selfie and a faceless woman with a Caesarian section scar… /touches Caesarian section scar… Now that was fuckin’ weird to see, Clicky…*
… Anyway the upshot was that there is only the Nag Hammadi Codex left ‘cos the Roman Catholic Church eradicated the Gnostics and destroyed pretty much all Gnostic teachings, thus controlling the Christian narrative…
*Heh! Terry Christian fronted ‘The Word’…*
*And is facing a public backlash… /pats snout… Quite right. Nice thinking, Clicky…*
*Alright, show off. Go and get an appropriate tune to round off with…*
Until next time then, Dear Reader. Stay well, enjoy the unusual Spring break and have a Song… ❤
*What’s got DP so riled up, Clicky?*
*Oh, the latest installment of the Battle for Brexit… /lights up and smokes… The everso grubby Corona Skirmish. How’s that going for the Remoaning Media?*
*Figures. They never learn…*
Welcome back, Dear Reader. After posting ‘She’s In The Shower’ earlier this week…
*Beautiful, Clicky… /puffs contentedly…*
…We thought we’d treat you to another story from UAVIII. Mine this time. It’s called ‘BOGOF’ and has nothing whatsoever to do with toilet paper. Enjoy 😉
By Roo B. Doo
The supermarket was already a hive of activity by the time Clive Ambrose squelched into the admin office of the Marchway Emporium. He removed his sodden jacket, shook his feet and inspected the wet hem of his trouser legs. “Good grief, Sylvie, the weather’s absolutely filthy today.”
His assistant looked up from the paperwork on her desk. Sylvie arched a quizzical eyebrow and clucked at the dripping store manager stood in front of her. “Morning, Clive. You’re late.”
It was barely fifty yards from his reserved parking space to the staff entrance, but the morning’s unexpected squally shower had drenched Clive every step of the way. The car park could do with resurfacing, he thought glumly. Some of those puddles are deep.
“And today of all the days!” Clive exclaimed, pinching wet and steamy glasses off his nose. “Fiona’s car wouldn’t start, so I had to drop her off at the University first. She had an early lecture. Empowerment of women in a post-Brexit toxic wasteland, or something like that.”
Sylvie widened her eyes and pursed her lips. She offered Clive the box of man-sized tissues from her desk. “Doesn’t she know you voted to leave?”
“Lord no!” Clive snorted, patting away the rain and perspiration beads that studded his face. “That would kill her. A shock like that could cause an embolism.”
“Or a heart attack…”
“At the very least it could induce a catatonic state.”
“But they’re all natural causes, Clive,” Sylvie simpered slyly. “No court would convict you, surely.”
Clive dried his glasses off with a fist full of tissues. “Probably not. I’ll bear it in mind.” As much as he enjoyed the banter with Sylvie, Clive was under no illusion that should his beloved wife Fiona ever find out that he’d voted for Brexit, she wouldn’t be the spouse in danger of dying.
Sylvie pushed her ample frame away from her desk, stood up and slipped on her shoes. She straightened the seam on her skirt and tottered over to the office doorway. “I’ll get you a coffee, Clive. A frothy one with sprinkles?”
Clive returned his now freshly dried glasses to his face and looked his assistant up and down. “You look different today, Sylvie. Are you taller?”
“I’m wearing heels.”
“I’ve not seen you in stilettos before. And is that make up?”
Sylvie flicked her thick, blonde hair from her shoulders nonchalantly and plucked a non-existent piece of lint from her sleeve. “Well it’s not every day the Emporium is graced by celeb chef royalty. Housewives favourite, Freddie Calender, here, giving a cookery demonstration? I thought I’d make the effort, Clive.”
Clive was suddenly worried that he’d gone too far. He would hate to offend Sylvie; sometimes he thought she was his only friend. “No, you look very smart. That’s smart thinking, Sylvie. Well done. Smart all round.”
Sylvie smiled at her blushing boss and bobbed her head. “So, coffee. With froth and sprinkles?”
“Yes please,” Clive said gratefully. He clapped his hands together and looked around his office. “So, big day ahead. I’ll go and check out the Freddie Calendar books and DVDs promotion once my shoes have dried out a bit, but I do need to speak to Alan. I suspect with this weather, and the amount of customers we’re likely to attract today, we’ll need extra matting and mopping.”
“I’ll find him and send him through,” Sylvie said with a smile and left the office with an unsteady wobble.
Clive grimaced and continued to worry about slips, trips and falls.
Kara Swinton pulled the sun visor down from above her head and checked her appearance in the tiny mirror fixed to the back of it. Despite the early hour, she didn’t think she looked too bad; a little pale maybe, but better than she ought to considering what little sleep she’d managed to get the night before. As she turned her face from side to side she caught a glimpse of the figure slumped, sleeping in the back seat of the Uber cab they were taking to Marchway, and thought he looked considerably worse than her.
“There’s a light if you want to fix your make-up,” the driver next to her said helpfully. His eyes didn’t waver from the dark road ahead as he reached up and flicked a switch next to the mirror.
Ugh! Kara thought at the dark rings under her eyes, now illuminated by the harsh, blue light that spilled over her. She quickly switched it off and pushed the sun visor up to its original position. She could kill for a cigarette. “No, that’s okay. Thank you, I don’t want to wake him.”
“No problem,” the driver replied. He flashed a bright smile at Kara before tilting his head back toward the sleeping figure. “Late night, was it?”
Kara considered telling him that they’d spent the evening in the bar at the House of Commons – how they’d drunk far too much in an effort to keep up with their very thirsty host, an MP of twenty years standing, in an attempt to solicit further backing – but decided against it. “Kinda,” she replied with a shrug. “A work thing.”
They traveled in silence that was intermittently broken by burbled snores from the back seat. Several times Kara noticed the driver’s dark eyes flicking up to the rear view mirror, to stare inquiringly at the slack jawed, drooling face of her boss. He can’t place him, she decided. And no wonder, the public rarely sees Freddie Calender, TV chef and food activist, without his trademark grin and sparkling eyes. Kara stifled a yawn, I won’t tell him unless he asks.
Freddie turned in his seat and farted loudly.
“Oh Freddie,” Kara groaned under her breath and pushed a button on her door. The window whined down and the raw sound of the motorway rushed in. “You’d better do the same,” she advised the driver. “It’s Dev, right?”
“Yeah and you’re Kara,” Dev chuckled and shook his head. “That’s okay. I lived in India when I was little. Nothing pongs as bad as India. It was like being inoculated against future bad smells.”
Kara smiled as she allowed the cold air to stream over her face, letting it beat all traces of tiredness away. She breathed deeply; it smelt like rain. “Dev, would it be okay with you if I smoked a cigarette?”
“Freddie?” Dev started having caught the name. “Is that’s Freddie Calender, the chef off the telly?”
Kara pulled a battered metal cigarette case from her coat pocket and waggled it at Dev. “I’ll tell you if you’ll let me smoke.”
“Sure,” Dev said, flashing Kara with another bright smile. “If you don’t mind that I vape.” He pulled a white plastic tube from his door well and twirled it between his fingers, waggling his eyebrows.
“Heh. Not at all.” Kara returned his smile; Dev had a nice smile. “Thank you, you’re a life saver. This is my first today.” She reached into her other coat pocket and pulled out an equally battered lighter. “Of course, the first one always tastes better with coffee,” she sighed, lighting up, careful to blow the first drag of smoke out of the window.
“So am I right?” Dev opened his window and took a pull on his vape stick. “I am aren’t I? That’s Freddie Calender.”
“Yes he is,” Kara said sweetly, turning back to look fondly over her comatose boss. Freddie shifted and farted again. “TV chef, mediocre businessman,” she continued tartly, turning back to face forward, “and scourge of BOGOF.” Kara inclined her head toward the open window and took another deep drag on her cigarette. “That Freddie Calender.”
“And what’s a BOGOF?” Dev asked.
Kara laughed softly to cover her surprise. She watched the orange sparks dance atop her cigarette and disappear into the morning air as the car’s slipstream simultaneously whisked away it’s ashen hat. “You’ve never heard of BOGOF?”
Dev turned his head toward Kara and shook it, although his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead. “No, is it a toilet thing?”
“Eww, no.” Kara studied the blank expression on Dev’s face and concluded that he really didn’t know. “It’s short for ‘Buy One Get One Free’… bee-oh-gee-oh-eff. BOGOF.” Still nothing. “Obviously you don’t do the grocery shopping in your house,” she teased.
Dev took another deep pull on his vape stick and blew a plume of steam out of his open window. “If you want to know if I’m in relationship, you can just ask me.”
Cheeky sod, Kara thought, coughing to hide her embarrassment; she had noticed that the very good looking cab driver wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. “Okay, I’ll play. Do you have a girlfriend, Dev?”
“No,” Dev stated seriously before flashing Kara with another winning smile. “But I take my mum to the supermarket and help with the food shop every week. I’ve just never actually heard anyone call it BOGOF before. Do people even say that?”
“BOGOF,” Freddie slurred from the depths of sleep.
Kara and Dev burst into laughter. They tried suppressing their mirth so as not to wake him so that their shoulders shook all the more. Kara threw the butt of her exhausted cigarette out of the window and let the rushing wind carry it away with a howl of laughter.
“Surreal,” Dev said shaking his head slowly. “My first famous fare and it’s completely surreal.”
“Freddie has that effect sometimes,” Kara sighed. “Have we got very much further to go?” she asked, arching her back. The cigarette and laughter had relaxed her somewhat, but Kara could do with stretching her legs.
“Marchway is about thirty minutes away,” Dev replied, glancing up through the windscreen at the overcast sky. “If it doesn’t rain.” He tapped at the sat nav screen. “Actually, there’s a service station coming up. Do you want to stop and get coffee?”
“That would be great, thanks. I’ll wake his nibs up then, so he has enough time to come to.” Kara knew Freddie would appreciate that, and a strong, black coffee would probably do him the world of good.
“There you go.” Sylvie placed a bacon sandwich and cappuccino in front of Clive. “I thought you could do with something to eat as well. I doubt you had time this morning.”
Clive was touched. He’d had to forgo his usual bowl of muesli because of Fiona’s car troubles. Not that he minded missing Fiona’s muesli, but he’d hadn’t realised just how hungry he was until he smelt the aroma of bacon. Clive smacked his lips and beamed up at Sylvie. “Thank you very much indeed.”
“You’re welcome,” Sylvie said beaming a smile back.“Did you talk to Alan yet?”
Clive took a huge bite out of his sandwich and nodded enthusiastically.
Sylvie liked to see Clive eat and was quite convinced his wife didn’t feed him at all. “Good. I see Freddie Calender is in the newspaper today. We get a mention.”
Clive stopped mid-chew and swallowed. “National or local press?”
Sylvie pulled a folded newspaper from under her arm and passed it to Clive.” Local, but he’s in all the nationals as well. Page seven.”
Clive wiped his fingers on the napkin Sylvie had thoughtfully tucked under his bacon sandwich, and opened the newspaper. Freddie Calender stared out, all twinkling eyes and dimpled grin. Clive read the accompanying article in silence, while Sylvie watched his brow slowly furrow.
Eventually he looked up. “Here we are at the end, but what’s this ‘BOG OFF to BOGOF’ business? What’s he got against ‘buy one get one free’?”
Sylvie had already returned to her desk and kicked off her shoes. “I’ll look it up,” she said, skittering painted nails over the keyboard. “Here we are. I’ve found the website.”
Clive continued eating his sandwich, more slowly this time, and re-read the article.
“It’s like it says in the newspaper,” Sylvie murmured reading the words on screen. “He’s heading up a national campaign to ban ‘buy one get one free’ deals. “‘It’s time to tell Big Retail that we don’t want more of their junk products that we didn’t need in the first place.’ Bloody cheek!”
Clive took a slurp of cappuccino and sucked the foam off his mustache. “Listen to this: ‘It’s all too easy to be lured into buying ready meals, thinking ‘what a bargain’, when the truth is, that second portion of processed crap languishing in your fridge, will be binned when it’s past it’s sell-by date because the first one tasted so bad.’” Clive looked up at Sylvie and blinked. “He’s very strident in his criticism.”
“He’s very rude is what he is,” Sylvie huffed, bristling with indignation “And quite wrong. Our ‘Authentic Dishes of the World’ ranges are delicious and very popular. Especially the chicken Tikka Masala in ‘Feasts from the East’. Do you think Head Office knows about this?”
“I doubt it, Sylvie.” Clive rubbed his hands together to remove any sandwich crumbs from his fingers, and wiped his mouth. “They’ve been exceptionally buoyed ever since landing Calender’s ‘Time to Cook’ nationwide tour. His name has a certain cachet, but you’re right to ask. We should find out. Can you get me Megan at Head Office on the phone?”
“Of course.” Sylvie picked up the receiver of her telephone console and jabbed at the keypad with a pen. “It won’t stop with ready meals, Clive, you mark my words. We have BOGOF deals on wine, pet foods, toiletries… Oh good morning. Could I speak to Megan Prendergast, please. Clive Ambrose from the Marchway store would like to speak with her. Thank you, we’ll hold.” She kept the receiver to her ear but placed a hand over the mouthpiece. “And has he even considered the impact this could have on food banks? I bet he hasn’t.”
Clive drained his coffee cup and reached down to slip his mostly dried shoes back onto his feet. He appreciated his assistant’s feistiness – finding Sylvie strangely attractive when she had her hackles up – but unintended consequences were a fact of life. The trick, in Clive’s opinion, was to deal with them as best you can and to always look for the silver lining.
His thinking was interrupted when Sylvie nodded several times toward the phone on his desk. He picked up the receiver. “Good morning, Megan, Clive Ambrose from Marchway here. Tell me, have you seen the Freddie Calender articles in the press today?”
Sylvie leaned back in her chair and watched Clive’s conversation. He didn’t say much but from his facial expressions and body language, Sylvie could tell that Head Office was as shocked by the news as they were.
“No, of course you need to scrutinize his contract thoroughly. The issue I have is that we’re expecting him to arrive at the store in a little over an hour.” Clive rolled his eyes at Sylvie at the response he was hearing before eventually saying “Goodbye” and ending the call.
“Well?” Sylvie asked expectantly. “Are we going to cancel?”
Clive stood up and pulled his jacket on. “No, the Legal department needs to study his contract properly. That takes time.”
Sylvie gave a snort of disgust. “So we’re going to have to be nice to him, all the while he’s slagging us off in the press?”
“Well, not us per se, he’s not stupid,” Clive soothed, straightening his tie. “But Head Office seems a little bereft of ideas.” He started for the office door, but stopped to pick at something stuck in his teeth. He pulled the irritant out; it was a piece of bacon. He studied it and thought about Fiona’s muesli, the morning’s deluge and his satisfied bacon-filled stomach, before popping it back into his mouth. There’s always a silver lining to be found.
“Come along on, Sylvie,” Clive said, holding the door open for her. “We should go and inspect the demonstration and promotional areas. I really hope this weather doesn’t keep the customers away.”
Dev leaned against the pillar in the coffee shop, watching Kara pay at the counter. He allowed his eyes a moment to rake over her slender form, though he quickly looked away when she glanced up and caught his stare. Kara was all smiles as she approached him with the coffees.
“Here you go,” she said and handed Dev a cardboard cup, topped with a plastic adult teat. “A tall Flat White. That’s on me.”
“Thanks Kara, but there’s no need.”
They moved to the napkin station where Kara liberally applied brown sugar to her larger cup of white chocolate Mocha. “Oh don’t worry about. I got it with my loyalty points.” She pulled the wooden stirrer between her lips and sucked off the milky foam. “Consider it as part of your tip.”
Dev sipped gingerly from the steaming hole in the lid of his cup. “I’ve had plenty of racing tips as tips but this is much nicer.”
“Why, weren’t any of those tips any good?” Kara asked playfully.
“Nah, they were all nags,” Dev said with a grin and tilted his cup toward Kara. “Thanks again.”
They left the coffee shop and as they reached the entrance doors to the service station. Both were surprised to find the rain that threatened earlier had actually arrived. A sheet of water fell from the roof covering the entrance like a second transparent door.
“Oh hell, we’re gonna get soaked!” Dev declared as he gauged the strength of the rain and the distance to the car. “We’ll have to make a run for it.”
“No sodding way,” Kara hollered over the sound of the falling rain. “I want to have a smoke before we go back. Freddie hates me smoking.” She sauntered over to an empty table and chairs set back from the cascading rain, under the cover the overhanging roof.
Dev followed her and sat down. He patted his pockets. “Oh shit, I’ve left my vape stick in the car.”
“You won’t be able to vape when we get back either. Freddie hates that too.” Kara said pulling the battered metal box from her pocket and extracted a cigarette. “Would you like one of mine?”
She watched Dev dithering as to whether to take one or not. Oh you bad girl, Kara, she chastised herself but felt no pangs of guilt. “You don’t have to of course, but you should also consider this as part of your tip.”
“No, it’s okay,” Dev laughed, “but I appreciate the offer.” He took the battered Zippo lighter from Kara’s hand and flicked it into life. “Here, let me.”
Kara took a deep drag and blew the smoke out of the side of her mouth, away from Dev. She took the teated lid off her coffee and took a cautious slip. “Ahh, the second smoke of the day tastes equally as good with coffee.”
Dev turned the Zippo lighter between his thumb and index finger. “Hey, the case and lighter match. That’s neat.”
Kara took another drag and plucked the lighter from Dev’s fingers. She placed it on top of the cigarette case. “They were my granddad’s. He swapped them with a Yank during the war.”
“What did he swap them for?”
“Provisions. They were both POWs in World War Two. I got them when he died a couple of years back. Well, my sister doesn’t smoke, so they came to me,” Kara said with a shrug. “They’re a useful memento.”
“Of your granddad,” Dev murmured solemnly.
“Well yes,” Kara drawled and release a plume of smoke from her mouth. “And that neither smoking, nor bloody combat managed to see him off.”
Dev eyed the steadily falling rain and lightly drummed his fingers on the table top. “Go on then, as it’s part of my tip.”
Kara chuckled and slid her cigarette box and lighter over to Dev. “Knock yourself out.”
Dev lit up a cigarette. “So if Freddie Calender doesn’t like smoking-”
“He hates smoking.”
“And vaping-” Dev popped the lid from his Flat White.
“Completely loathes it.”
“And hates BOGOFs-” He took a slurp of his coffee.
“Is there anything Freddie Calender does like?” Dev asked, licking hot foam from his lips.
Kara flicked ash onto the floor. “You mean apart from Freddie Calender? Um…”. She puffed out her cheeks in contemplation.
“Jammie Dodgers.” Kara lent in toward Dev and whispered conspiratorially. “They’re his secret vice.”
Dev smiled and gazed at Kara snort with laughter at her own joke. He let his eyes linger on her pale and beautiful face, and this time, when she caught him staring, Dev did not look away.
He chipped off the remains of his cigarette and stood up. “The rain seems to be easing up some. If you’ve finished that, I think we could make a run for it. We shouldn’t get too wet.”
“Okay.” Kara took a final drag and discarded the butt into an encroaching puddle of rainwater. It hissed and fizzled out. “Freddie hates it when his coffee is cold.”
Freddie Calender slung his foot out of back of the black saloon car and into a puddle of water. “Bollocks!” he swore loudly and pulled his foot back inside, wiping the sides of his pristine white trainers against the tufted car mat. “Fella, you’ve managed to park on a lake. Can’t you find us somewhere drier?”
“Sorry,” Dev said and reversed out of the parking bay and maneuvered it into a empty spot immediately behind. “Is that better?”
Kara cracked open her door and looked down. “Yes, much. Thank you, Dev.”
“Yeah, thanks mate,” Freddie said, slapping Dev hard on the shoulder as he slid out of the car.
“I’ve got my phone with me if you need me,” Kara mumbled and pulled her bag up onto her lap, rummaging inside. “He’s booked for three hours but this shouldn’t take much longer than that. You’re sure you don’t mind waiting?”
“I mean, you don’t mind us not paying for you to wait.” Kara placed her hand on Dev’s arm. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea Freddie was going to suggest that.”
Dev smiled and shook his head. “No, that’s okay. As Freddie pointed out, it’s extremely doubtful I’m gonna get another fare from Marchway back to London. Besides, he’s promised an autographed photo for my mum. I can’t leave before I get that.”
“Okay then, see you later.” Kara open the car door and got out.
Dev sat back in his seat and watched Kara heft her bag up onto her shoulder, and weave her way through the puddles littering the car park, toward the supermarket. He pulled out his vape stick and switched on the radio. All in all, for his first celebrity fare, he thought it had gone pretty well so far. But Kara? She was definitely the best thing about it.
Freddie saw the expectant delegation of suits and primary coloured uniforms before he stepped through the sliding doors and into the supermarket. He knew they had seen him as soon as he heard a squeal of excitement. There was always a squeal.
“Hello Mr Calender!” Clive called out and strode toward him. “We’re so pleased to welcome you to the Marchway Emporium.” He grabbed Freddie’s hand and pumped it enthusiastically. “Very pleased indeed.”
“Yeah, I’m excited to be here.” Freddie grinned his trademark grin at the waiting crowd before him and shook the proffered hands. “I can’t wait to get cooking.”
“Shame about the weather but hopefully it won’t put too many people off coming out to see you.” Clive placed his hand on the small of Freddie’s back and attempted to steer him forward. “This way, we’re all set up for you.”
Freddie stopped. “Wait. I need to introduce you to my assistant,” he said tentatively and swung around, looking for the absent Kara. “There she is. Kara!”
Kara had just arrived and was stamping her wet boots on the matting inside the door. She looked up and smiled at hearing her name. “Hello. How do you do. Golly, it’s extremely wet out there.”
Sylvie tottered forward and took Kara’s hand. “Yes, it was dreadfully unexpected. I’m Sylvie, the Store Manager’s assistant. I can take you to dry off first if you like.”
“Kara’s my go-to gal, aren’t you, Kara?” Freddie wrapped an arm around Kara’s shoulders and pulled her in tight. “If anybody needs anything of me, especially whilst I’m cooking, speak to Kara. She’s on point. Okay?”
“Ah, well perhaps I should give this to you then,” Sylvie said to Kara, and loosened a page from her clipboard. “It’s all the ingredients specifically requested for today. We just want to make sure there’s nothing missing.”
Freddie snatched the paper from Sylvie. “No, I’ll check that. I am the chef.” He pinched his bottom lip between forefinger and thumb as he scanned the list. “No, that’s everything. Thank you.”
You arse! Kara thought sourly and plucked the page from Freddie’s hand. She’d seen the flush of colour in Sylvie’s cheeks and decided a spot of charm might be the best remedy. It’s amazing how skillful I’ve become at charming people since I started working for you, she admonished Freddie silently.
She passed the paper back to Sylvie with a toothy smile. “Oh my god, your nails are wonderful, Sylvie!” Kara held Sylvie’s hand and studied the finish on her nails. “Did you get those done professionally?”
The flush in Sylvie’s cheeks turned to blush. “No, I did them myself. I used transfers. I learnt how to do it on the internet. There are so many videos on YouTube…”
“Well then,” Clive said clearing his throat and replaced his hand on the small of Freddie’s back, nudging him onward. “Shall we go to the kitchen demonstration area? We’ve converted part of our Riverside cafe for the day. Temporarily of course, but we think you’ll be satisfied with the layout.”
“Hey! I thought I might find you out here,” Dev called out and ambled over to Kara. He passed her a cardboard carton, a wisp of steam curled out from the hole in its lid. “I thought maybe you could do with one of these.”
Kara was stood smoking alone in the bright sunshine, and rocking on her feet. The free hand she had stuffed in her coat pocket took the coffee from him gratefully. “Hey! Aw, thank you! How did you know that the third cigarette of the day is spectacularly good with coffee? Wow. You really are an excellent cab driver, Dev.”
“Thank you, Kara.”
“In fact I suggest you prepare yourself for a most effusive customer review.”
“Consider me already bowled over,” Dev said with a wide smile. “So how’s it going with Freddie’s demonstration?”
“Pretty good, I think. Despite the earlier bad weather, he’s drawn quite a crowd.” Kara took a long drag on her cigarette, followed up by a short sip from her coffee cup. “Have you been shopping?”
Dev was carrying a bulging plastic bag, with the primary coloured Emporium logo emblazoned on the front. “I have. Fortunately I had some time to kill this morning, so I thought I’d check out inside.”
Kara smiled and released a cloud of smoke into the bright blue sky. “Did you buy anything nice?”
“Yes I did,” Dev said pulling his vape stick from his pocket. “I got some presents for my mum.”
“Yeah.” Dev took a hit from his vape stick. “Say, Kara, have you had a chance to look around the rest of the store?”
Kara looked at Dev and flicked the ash from her cigarette. She squinted in the sunshine. “No, not really. I’ve been busy with the demonstration. Why?”
“It might be nothing, but the Emporium seems really keen on BOGOFs.”
“What do you mean?”
Dev shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “I mean, really keen. They have a whole aisle of ‘buy one get one free’ ingredients from Freddie’s demo dishes and it’s jammed with customers.”
“No!” Kara could feel the blood draining from her already too pale face.
“Yeah, there are even food bank reps behind the tills collecting BOGOF donations. I didn’t know they were allowed to do that.” Dev reached into his shopping bag and pulled out a book. “And then there’s this.” Freddie Calender’s twinkling eyes and trademarked dimpled grin shone from the cover. “They’ve got a big promotion of these inside as well. All ‘buy one get one free’. I bought this and got one of his DVDs with it. What a bargain! Mum thinks Freddie’s great.”
Kara placed her coffee cup on the floor before taking the book from Dev. She stared at it in astonishment. It was Freddie’s latest title, ‘Time To Cook’, but a large, primary coloured sticker had been placed over the last word. “’Freddie Calender’s Time To BOGOF’?”
Dev tried hard but the giggle that he’d held inside him could no longer be contained. “I’ve only known Freddie a morning, but even I know that he is gonna hate that!”
Kara roared with laughter and grabbed Dev’s arm. “We’d best not tell him then, eh? We don’t want to ruin the journey back.”
Sylvie was typing into her computer when Clive returned to the Emporium’s Admin Office. “Well, that all went off very well in the end, I think,” he said, sitting down at his desk. A steaming cup of tea and a jam doughnut, with a thoughtfully placed napkin, were waiting for him. “Thank you, Sylvie. That’s very kind of you.”
“No problem, Clive.” Sylvie turned away from her computer screen so that she could watch Clive take the first sugary bite from his doughnut. “Have you spoken to Alan this afternoon?” she asked.
Clive shook his head no and continued chewing.
“He stopped by earlier, cock-a-hoop about something he’s posted up on Twitter.”
Clive swallowed and licked sugar and jam from his lips. “Alan’s on Twitter?”
“Yes. I’m not on Twitter myself, but Alan says he’s got a number of followers on there. They’ve been liking and retweeting a photo he took of our Freddie Calendar book promotion. Apparently it’s gone viral.”
“Really?” Clive wiped his fingers on the napkin, woke up his computer and opened Twitter. “Did Alan happen to mention the name of his Twitter handle?” he asked, reaching for his tea and taking a large gulp.
“Yes. He posts anonymously on…” Sylvie paused, peered down at her notebook and grimaced. “At silver streaky bacon?”
And for the second time that day, Clive Ambrose found himself unexpectedly soaked.
*Trust Jammy Oliver to land a show with a captive audience, Clicky… /stubs butt… Time for a Song methinks…*
And that, as they say, is that. Underdog Anthology XI: Ay Corona! (working title) is due out in April, and I really must get back to finishing my story for it. So until next time, Dear Reader, have a Song ❤
*Seriously, Clicky? …/laughs like a drain…*
*/rolls eyes… I guess Baby Yoda’s a Yodaling, Clicky…*
In the missive, below, Dear Reader, resident of the Great State of Text US, Cade Fon Apollyon, ponders upon, among a host of other stuff, the lull in Brexit news…
*Woo Hoo! Now that piece of news, Clicky… /lights up and smokes… deserves a Song… *
^Europe – The Final Countdown (Official Video)^
Well hello there
I have working headphones again.
The 30-Day Music Challenge has ended.
We’re back in bidness as usual which is usually unusual.
Weird. Sounds almost like a command or strong suggestion. Something Yoda might say.
Unuse you will...save you it can!
Did you know that there is only one character difference between “strong suggestion” and “string suggestion”?
Typos are sometimes wonderful things
^Hit The Lights^
Makes me wonder if “the unusual” is considered (by some) to be unusable by those same sum of some(s). The fringe(s). The theoretical(s) and hypothetical(s). That which is of no immediate and/or practical application. Some kind of chaff that exists when you are seeking only wheat, or maybe the dirt that clings to a vegetable pulled from the ground, or the hide/skin and guts of a prey item. Useless stuff. Garbage. Layers that must be shed in order to get to the good stuff.
Hrm...that didn't go where I thought it might
Been long pondering the embedding of meaning(s) in certain English words that potentially only certain “in the know” types of people may be able to interpret. And I’m not talking about glyphs or symbols or petroglyphs or pictographs or semaphores or ciphers or codes in the usual sense. There’s more to language than just and only some direct and distinct tonal quality that means just and only one thing. And yes, I realize that some words have multiple meanings, and also realize that meaning(s) themselves can have multiple meanings. What I’ve pondered is the sequencing of certain tonal qualities to create entirely other meanings. Perhaps some meanings that are so close to the original meaning(s) that they are almost undetectable. Such as the word “unsual”. Slap the right accent(s) on such a word, or use it in a certain context within a certain string or thread? You could potentially derail someone’s train of thought. Think, puns. Or maybe regional dialects/accents. You can go from there.
^Crazy lady at Walmart^
My mind isn’t your mind. With that in mind, let’s get any interested parties up to speed (myself included).
Have you ever heard of something called “time on page”? It’s a metric use to determine how long a visitor spends on a particular webpage. What’s that? You were not aware such things were possible to even know?
No wait, that's not it
FUCK!!! That's not it either
GAH!!! I am totally off-course
I’m getting further into the fringes. Unusual stuff that un-use you will. Visiting web pages is not a therapy session, nor is visiting web pages anything even remotely like a therapy session. Visiting web pages is a session, nothing more, no therapeutic value whatsoever.
They wanna know how long you spent, where, all so it can be estimated as to what you saw, and ultimately the likelihood of what you absorbed/what potentially influenced you. I mean, if you visit a webpage that takes the average reader 5 minutes to read, but you only spend 17 seconds on that page, and you then run straight to AmazonDOTcalm and purchase a pair of “Silkie’s Sultry Slippers”? There may be a connection to be made. Especially if that web page you only spent 17 second on contained an advertisement for…Silkie’s Sultry Slippers. Or maybe even if that web page contained an advertisement for “Bob’s Dog Insole Inserts”. Information like that is highly prized I would imagine.
^Rush – Subdivisions (with lyrics)^
I guess that impeachment thingie is starting in earnest. Strange that Brexit news has been so quiet. Of course, there is all that “city vs rural” kinds of crap going on in Virginia. And I think some royals from the UK have abandoned ship to some degree. I also think I heard somewhere that Southend is beefing up enforcement on automobile crime, although I’m not sure what all that would entail. Oh, and some dude from Basildon has been thrown in the hoosegow for taking bribes, and this same dude appears to have been in charge of installing fire alarms in Grenfell Tower. A plane dumped jet fuel on school children. The preliminary report on Atlas Air Flight 3591 has been released, and it appears that the captain may have accidentally/inadvertently activated the automatic go-around system (TOGO), but none of the flight crew seems to have noticed. Iran shot down a Ukrainian passenger jet. A bunch of really weird patents have been issued. Sikhs living in the Punjab area of India are now able to make pilgrimages to Pakistan via a new “peace corridor” between the two countries. Terry Jones appears to have passed.
Did I miss anything?
^Inspection (Check One) (Remastered)^
Was pretty young when I first heard Devo’s song “Wiggly World”, and at the time, and even up until only recently, I only associated “wiggly things” with human behaviors. Trends are like this today, like that tomorrow. I’m held in esteem today, on a shit-list tomorrow.
That said, over the past few days I’ve been wandering around earthquakes, tsunamis and volcanoes, and wondering about how energy transfers from vertical waves to horizontal waves. More than that, maybe even perhaps horizontal waves are actually vertical waves that are, contextually, misinterpreted. Suddenly this morning, I stumble across the image above when searching for geometry gifs. You are likely thinking pure chance. Law of averages. I’m digging for nothing in particular, spot something that is contextually applicable, therefore I made a conscious decision to grab the image and use it because it was beneficial for me to do so. That image is nothing more than low hanging fruit.
However, we live in a targeted world of targeted advertising, where there are those that are using anything and everything at their disposal to find you and target you. In fact, that’s probably the reason there’s all this “targeted individual” stuff that appeared on the horizon sometime back. A way of getting cutting-edge types of thinking and/or technology into the public consciousness so that the blade can be dulled over time. Get people to start chalking the concept up to madness and/or crazy people on the fringes so that it will be immediately dismissed as impossible nonsense.
^Triumph – Time Goes By – with Lyrics on Screen^
We humans aren’t that clever, amirite?
Q: Who told you that you weren’t clever and/or not clever enough?
“Humans aren’t that clever.” Sounds almost like something uttered in The Garden of Eden. “Who told you that you were naked?” I’m not suggesting that Satan is involved here. Not suggesting that Satan is telling all of you uneducated and inexperienced dunces what a bunch of idiots you really are.
Just wondering aloud
It’s never straight up and down.
You know what has been completely absent from my life recently?
Is anyone even making movies anymore? Seems to be more focus as of late within the entertainment industry on television series. And where is the new music at. Maybe there’s a shift going on. Some something I am unaware of. Unpossible. I know almost everything.
^Starfucker // STRFKR – Golden Light^
Saw a “I don’t get it” type of comment from someone some time back during the 30-Day Challenge, and I’ve thought a lot about it. I don’t have an answer. If for no other reason, this is not a one-man/one-person rodeo. I can only tell you what I personally think. That said, we are, most of us, bombarded with information daily, from multiple sources, on a wide array of topics, and the only common denominator in every single case…
It doesn’t matter where information originates, what matters is where that information ends up, and how that information is translated and interpreted by you. Only then does the source of the information matter.
EX: If someone approaches you on the street and hands you a leaflet that says “GO FUCK YOURSELF!”, how you assimilate that information is all that really matters. Why is this person handing out leaflets that say what they say? Why did they hand one to me? Why did I take it? Why should I go fuck myself at this person’s prompting? What should I do now?
There are some of us who spend time trying to figure out why we do the things we do. Why we think how we think. What the mechanics behind thought, and what are the things in our lives that are influencing and/or attempting to influence how we think or what we do, or even what we do not think or do not do. Where do I fit? Why do I not fit? Existential types of “nonsense” that likely makes no sense to anyone but ourselves.
^The Smiths – Golden Lights^
There appear to be people in this world that do not fit in the same way and ways that others fit in. If we don’t belong here, then what in the FUCK are we doing here? Some choose to stop at the “why are we here?” question, and await an answer. Others, may decide to keep asking the question repeatedly whilst searching for an answer. Still others may choose to rework and reword the question in order find their answer(s). And I’d venture a guess that there are some that choose to skip over the question entirely, and just kinda do their own thing. Multifaceted approaches to a singular question…
Why are we here?
Wait, that’s not right. The “question” is as multifaceted as the approaches.
Why are we here? Why am I here?
Not everything falls within the group context. Even that which does fall within the group context doesn’t always and forever fall within the group context. Everyone pees and poops, but everyone also (for the most part) pees and poops…alone. So yeah, layers to reality, realities and truth(s), and exploring those concepts. ‘Cept like, in a more public way. Writing openly and honestly about our thoughts and experiences as opposed to always turning everything inward. Maybe even helping others along the way.
That new whatever virus that appeared in China in early/mid December, now appears to have appeared in Seattle. Dunno if you noticed, but that Wikipedia article on “Interruption Science” mentions aviation being an example of a “high-risk workplace environment”.
Now, not that I personally know anyone who has been recently diagnosed with pneumonia or anything, but right now, there are information gathering and information reporting hubs and spokes that are spinning a lot of wheels to figure out what in the flying fuck is going on with the new whatever it is, how it is spreading.
^Talking Heads – Once In A Lifetime (Gigamesh Remix)^
Does pestilence and disease typically precede war? Or does pestilence and disease typically follow. I’m not a detective or anything, it just occurs to me that you are unlikely to be able to fight a war if all your soldiers are sick. That is of course, unless you’ve isolated pockets here and there which are separate and independent of your main forces and/or home territory. Especially if these isolated pockets are armed with more or less automated weapons. You may not be able to defeat your enemies in the way and ways you’d like to, but you sure can bloody their noses and put a cramp in their style. I’m right back to horizontal waves being misinterpreted as vertical waves, and vice-versa.
The main problem that I see is perspective, especially that hindsight angle. Hindsight can really fuck with you if one isn’t careful. It can make one a trendy one who thinks only in trends. Thinking like that where no trends exist? Disastrous.
Depending on application of course
It may just make you a dull nothing who is not capable of much of anything…’cept nothing.
^The Camera Eye^
It has always has confused me as to why, in the case of the Sendai Earthquake, did it take so long for the tsunami to reach shore. And why has the name of this event changed so much over time? Is it because “this event” cascaded into “these events”? The earthquake? The tsunami(s)? Fukushima? I should digress before I get too far offshore.
The epicenter wasn’t that far offshore, the wave(s) are said to move at 500 mph plus or minus a few, so why did the water waves themselves take so long to reach shore? Does it have anything to do with the waves traveling against the rotation of the planet? Is the fact that the earthquake lasted so long a factor? Is the fact that the ground itself moved quite far a factor? Does the fact that time itself changed for the entire planet as a result of this earthquake have anything to do with anything? What is a time-shift anyway? How does matter accommodate a change in energy/energies? How does both matter and energy accommodate a change in spin which results in an alteration in time?
I can only wonder how such shifts/adjustments affect what is known as radioactive decay. Not only that, but are any such changes measurable within the scope and scale of how we view and perceive time? If there is a measurable time, you can bet your ass that such a thing as “immeasurable time” also exists, and it likely exists in the same stream and streams as measurable time(s).
^”Add It Up” w/ lyrics by THE VIOLENT FEMMES^
I admit that I was aware of the more intricate clockworks of the Universe from a young age, but never paid much mind to the goings on because I was taught not to.
That's God's territory
Oh, and astrology is Satan/Lucifer/The Devil’s territory, so one needs to stay away from that as well. So yeah, where do I belong? What is “my” territory? Do I even have any? More than that, when and where do I become an individual? Where does everything else stop, and I begin?
Now, one reading this might start to think that I am some kind of egomaniacal lunatic bent on conquest and world domination. But you only see a part of me via these writings. Lots of stuff you miss. But then again, maybe you are looking for something that qualifies me according to some need that you yourself have. Wait…where was I originally going with this thought? Oh yes, universal clockworks and how time and times are set and adjusted. Bumps, grinds, inversions and advances to keep things moving as they should be moving. I mean, you really don’t think that every single grain of sand on the entire planet is moving at the same speed do you? That every molecule of water and air are moving in the same direction at the same velocity? That everything moves at the same speed, all at the same time? Nah, of course you don’t. That’d be completely ridiculous. Nonsense.
^Rocky Horror Time Warp^
Breaking away from the known is rough. Being pried away from the known is equally rough. Yet, we seem to live in a world where both concepts are prevalent, and one might even argue…necessary. You can let your mind wonder at will regarding what it means to “break away” and/or what it means “to be pried away”. Situations where things just aren’t working out as one had hoped. People are doing things you think they should not be doing. Or maybe you yourself are doing something that just doesn’t feel right anymore. I mean, who knew that eating an entire tub of margarine every day was bad for you? How could you possibly know that some readily available something was going to clog your heart with fatbergs that need to be plunged by medical plumbers? Question is, now what?
I suggest outrage
“They” shouldn’t be allowed to sell this stuff. Consumers are uneducated dummies, and we need someone to look out for us and take care of us. What does any of that have to do with breaking out and/or breaking away? I dunno. Figure it out your own damn self. You’re the smart one with all the answers. Oh, but do let me know what you find. I’d be interested in knowing how I should think.
Ya know, going forward
^Deano – Cycles [MHZV001]^
I should prolly bail here. Roob just worked for over a month straight writing and formatting blogposts, and here I am after only a few days, dumping more of my bullshit in her lap.
^Time Canon – Triumph^
*Blimey! …/stubs butt… ‘E aint overcompensating much, eh, Clicky…*
*Haha… Squirrels… /pats snout… Go get a suitable Song to end on, Clicky…*
We hope you enjoyed Cade’s unscheduled but most welcome mid-week missive, Dear Reader. There’s an Adventures in Remote Viewing shambles brewing nicely in the corner, and we hope it’ll be ready to serve up for you this we-kenned. Until then… 😀 Have a Song…
^Veruca Salt – Seether (Official Video)^
For this past week, Dear Reader, my good buddy, Cade, and I have indulged ourselves in a spot of remote viewing. Three Brad Pitt movies on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, and a thoroughly entertaining dose of ‘Dredd’ on Thursday…
… There was also the General Election on Thursday, and we remote viewed the results, as they came in through the night, via Yoot Oob…
‘In last week’s Mail on Sunday, after a month and a half travelling from Bolsover to Canterbury, St Ives to Chingford, Wrexham to County Durham, I predicted that Labour’s vaunted Red Wall was on the brink of collapse. I was wrong.
‘It didn’t collapse. It was smashed into a billion pieces. Atomised by the arrogance, ideological blindness, self-righteousness and viciousness of Jeremy Corbyn and his cultish followers.
‘When first elected in 2015, they inherited a battered but proud and functioning party. By the time The Absolute Boy made his graceless resignation speech in the early hours of Friday morning, all that was left was the political equivalent of the Manson clan.’
*Ha! I loved the credits on that too… /smokes… There’s been no Red Apols! from Labour either, Clicky, for their wankish policies or spiteful attitude toward voters for rejecting them…*
*You’d think! Government needs a strong and credible opposition to keep them straight, Clicky… /flicks ash… A thorn in their side, but this rump Labour lot…*
*/shakes head… I’m not optimistic…*
On Monday evening, we remote viewed Brad Pitt in ‘Seven Years in Tibet’. It was much better than I thought it would be…
… And on Tuesday evening, we partook of Brad Pitt’s new space flick, ‘Ad Astra’. That was more of a curate’s egg of a movie…
*Yeah, there was a definite touché of class about the election result, Clicky… /stubs butt… *
…I can, however, highly recommend ‘Once Upon a Time in Hollywood’ to you, Dear Reader. Cade and I remote viewed that on Wednesday evening and it is possibly the most loving crafted ‘Fuck You!’ movie from Quentin Tarantino yet. Seriously good…
*Nice try, Clicky, but that wasn’t in the movie soundtrack. Go get one that is for us to end this shambles on… /pats snout… Off you pop…*
And that, Dear Reader, was the remote viewing week that was for Cade Fon Apollyon and myself. It was a lot of fun and the Labour party got an immense kick in the butt. Perfecto! 😀
Have a Song… ❤
Dear Reader, in five days time, the citizens of the UK will vote in the third General Election to be held in the past four years. So far, the Tora! Tora! Tories! have managed to win them all…
*Re-election day… /sings… Probably…*
For Underdog Anthology 10: The Silence of the Elves – which will be published this weekend – Leggy and I collaborated on a poetic mutilation for the Afterword, in celebration of the political parties’, quite frankly, tedious General Election campaigns. And in keeping with previous anthologies’ ‘Dead Poet Society’ page, UAX’s contributing person of talent is no longer living; however, John Entwistle was far more than just a poet…
*For the political parties, Clicky, it’s all about the base… /winks…*
So I was rather amused to see the following tweet on my Twitter feed at lunchtime…
*I know! I know!…/chortles…*
When Friday morning comes, Dear Reader, will we ‘Get Brexit Done’, or find ourselves forever mired in Remain? Who can say?
Boris the Liar
Look who’s climbing up the polls
A posh tousle-haired blond troll
Politician words he makes
Brexit promises he fakes
Boris the liar
Boris the liar
Question time is here once more
Corbyn steps up to the floor
Brexit neutral but never Leave
What’s he hiding up his sleeve?
Corbyn is dire
Corbyn is dire
Creepy, Corbyn, creepy, Corbyn
Creepy, creepy, Corbyn, Corbyn
Creepy, creepy, Corbyn, Corbyn
Creepy, creepy, Corbyn, Corbyn
Creepy, creepy, Corbyn, Corbyn
Slab Butt, Mucus, Nicky the Fish
Swindles thinks she’s such a dish
Girlies desperate to Remain
Trapped in the EU’s domain
They should be fired
They should be fired
Creepy, crawlies, creepy, crawlies
Creepy, crawlies, creepy, crawlies
Creepy, crawlies, creepy, crawlies
Creepy, crawlies, creepy, crawlies
Creepy, crawlies, creepy, crawlies
They’ll all come to a stick end
Brexit drove them round the bend
But voters are the ones that lose
Still Bercow’s gone, so some good news
Have a Song 😉
*Breaking noose, Clicky? …/lights up… Droll…*
Dear Reader, the Kindle version of Underdog Anthology 10: The Silence of the Elves is now available to purchase, and paperback is on its way 😀
po T able
Wah tour…wah tour…Avree Wear®…
Butt gnaw…tuh duh rawp…Treblinka.
The “po”…roughly translated in Americanese, might refer to “the poor”.
The “T”…roughly translates to a junction, also means some sciencey and other commercial stuff here and there.
The “able” could refer to the dude that was unable to sense his brother’s murderous intentions, but might also refer to “a bull” if you get extra stretchy wif it.
But in truth, it's none of those things
po T able = “Top Table” where the “T” is shared backwards and forwards.
Guess I coulda done “po TT able”, but why use two, when one will do.
What do you think I am? Some governmental stooge or something?
^Fazerdaze – Lucky Girl (Official Video)^
Teaching = Indoctrination
Guess it all depends on which classes you sign up for, the school(s) you choose, who your teachers wind up being, all kinds of neato and interesting variables. Maybe also wanna consider who got the ball rolling in a particular direction and what their intentions were. So, with that in mind…
what's your story?
What kind of ball are you? What kind of ball do you want to be?
^The Breeders – Cannonball^
Let’s go ahead and start with some definitions before I let the cat out of the bag and spoil all the synchonautical fun.
I open when I need to be open, I close when I need to be closed. Same as you. Course, I might be closed when you personally need me to be open. Sry. Come back during normal business hours. And don’t ask me when those are, because I don’t know.
^Amyl and the Sniffers – Got You (Official Video)^
Some people are likely interested in building the m pyre, just to watch it burn.
^Starfucker // STRFKR – Golden Light^
My broken headphones keep dying. Showing signs of the final and non-fixable death. If you fine fuckers at Sennheiser wanna send me a new pair of Sennheiser HD 280 Pro’s to replace this broke-assed pair where the wire somehow broke within the crossmount thingie that goes across the top of my noggin’?
Send 'em on...I'll use 'em
I really don’t want to have to find the internal break and try and solder the wire nor cut the wire where I think the break is, and try and replace the section with something else. Could result in total calamity. Looks like that’s where I’m headed tho.
^The Distillers “Man Vs Magnet” (Official Music Video)^
On more than one occasion, I’ve seen reference to the term “top table”. Typically in documentaries of the British and/or UK varieties, almost always in reference to some kind of international politics, and I guess Britain’s place at this table with respect to certain interests. Getting there, staying there. Having a say in goings on. National pride. An implied national Jonesing for keeping up with the Joneses.
Yesterday, I was kinda absent my friend Roob’s presence for a while, and it turns out she was watching some Parliamentary goings on in the UK via her telly. Some vote happened, and there were some results. I guess Boris’ somewhat modified version of May’s plan was voted down, some general election in December was not approved, and there was reference to some kind of bill that was recently passed which I guess didn’t stipulate that Boris/the PM should actually accept any offers made by the EU, so it had to be clarified or amended or whatever.
Anyway, I guess the agreement was turned down, the request for a general election was turned down, and it looked as tho a “hard exit” would take place at some point on Thursday, unless of course that lurking “extension” was accepted. Which, later in the day, I guess it was. Now it’s just a matter of seeing what happens today, and whether or not a general election is held on 9 December.
Labor. Labor. Labor.
Why does that ring a bell? Prolly something to do with getting dinged and the subsequent pain(s).
“For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now.”
Labor Parties everywhere, and not a job in sight.
That might produce a ping and pang of pain(s) here and there.
^Ride “Leave Them All Behind”^
No stranger to the concept of the top-table, I. Growing up, family functions where food was involved, the adults had their table, the kids had theirs. Usually the kids table was in a back room or outside on the patio. The kids just wanted to eat, but in looking back, I get the feeling that there was more on the menu than just/only food for the adults. They had grownup things to talk about, and likely had to do so in grownup language. Stuff of the not-so-nourishing varieties to young ears.
We kids eventually grew to understand what was going on in that other room. And although what was actually being discussed was typically beyond us, we could get a vibe on whether this something was good or bad just by listening to the tone(s). The vibration(s) or lack thereof. If it got loud, it was bad. And you had to take into consideration who was getting loud + who was responding to that loudness and how. If dad was getting loud, that was bad. Especially if someone was getting louder in response. Dad usually kept quiet at gatherings, and anyone who crossed him when he did speak?
They were taking their life into their own hands. And when one or more of the women started to get rowdy? Holy shit, I wanted to pack my shit and leave town, because that meant things had gotten just about as bad as they could get. For a female member of the assembly to not only speak up, but to do so in a combative and/or authoritative way? The shit had definitely hit the fan over some something.
Who was his cousin. Good question? Or poor wording?
Who was his cousin?
Poor wording, bad punctuation, I really don’t know which is the case in this context, nor do I know who “was”, other than the obvious and/or potential. The more you read it (who was his cousin) the less succinct it becomes. Not sure as to any “degradation” tho. Some people have more bumps and bruises in life than others. Some choose the path of faith, some choose the path of belief, and yes, those seem quite different paths to me. Faith in self, faith in others. Doesn’t matter if the ring is brass or gold or cryogenically-cooled steel, I ain’t looking for it. Sure as shit found a ring or two along the way tho.
Who also was his cousin.
Seven years of Zen sounds nice irrespective of where.
Even if the place is the pits.
Can I agree to something I don’t understand?
^The Muffs – Weird Boy Next Door (Official Music Video)^
Dunno if you’ll actually watch this next vid, but a minute into the start, there’s a single hotdog wiener that the girl didn’t touch. Hopefully her hands were clean and free of contamination. Contamination on the wiener can be cause for concern to some.
^13. Melvins – A History of Bad Men (Live in Norway, 2007)^
Last Name = Janus, First name = Hugh
Is it any wonder that peeps used to have single names/self-identifiers? Much less clay to work with in the bastardization department. Some might even come up with a something in the naming and nomenclatures department that is more or less bullet-proof. Like say, not having one/any.
^Sonic Youth – Bull In The Heather (Official Video)^
Was doing some reading the other day on the topic of MC 900 Ft. Jesus, mainly because I used some of his shiz in a post, and came across a gem of an interview with Spike Jonez via the footnotes.
“My friend Lou and I were on a trip to Dallas for a skate tour,” Jonze recalls. “We were in the hotel room and we realized: MC 900 Ft. Jesus lives in Dallas. Let’s find him! We started looking up Mark Griffins in the phone book and we found a bunch of them and just started calling them. My friend would say, ‘Excuse me, sir, how tall are you?’ After three or four we got one who just started laughing, and we knew we had found him. This was a few years before we did the video, but we talked on the phone for 20 minutes. It was awesome.”
That’s pretty clever as far as cold-calling goes. Very specific. Very succinct. Looks like you chose the correct password combination for that particular passageway.
^Dead Kennedys – Holiday In Cambodia^
Eventually, the well is gonna quench your thirst, and you’re gonna try and turn off the tap. It’s possible that you may even think the well has run dry. Maybe it has.
^Dope Lemon – Hey You^
The well has run dry before. Stands to reason it’ll happen again. But that first time the well ran dry? Sure it was dry for a spell, but then, it rained. It rained a lot. It rained. And rained, and rained, and rained.
Q: Does it matter from which direction a rain comes?
Are rains that come in from the west, the same as rains that come in from the north, or the same as rains that come in from the south? I would say east but we don’t get rains from the east here. Well, not until recently we didn’t.
But I’m wondering about the contents of the water in the well. Like, aggregate. Summer rain(s), Spring rain(s), Winter rain(s), Fall rain(s)…they can’t all be the same. So is their logic in the moisture(s) that are brought to where and when/via what direction? Here, we have a lot of swimming pools. That means that a lot of peeps around here have spent a good deal of time stewing in water that has a high concentration of chlorine. You drink that shit too via the public water supply. Over time, what does that do to a gal or fella?
I’m mainly thinking about the aquifers in this area and the waters that feed them over time. What nutrients and minerals were brought in, and what nutrients and minerals leech from the local environment(s), plus what all that adds up to. The particulate in the atmosphere is changing, so moisture in the form of rain likely ain’t bringing the same stuff it used to. When you consider the direction the moisture may be coming from at a certain time of year, then you consider the nature of agriculture as it was then and is now, add in the industrial usages of waters from the river systems and other varied water sources, there’s a shift happening right under our noses that may be so obvious that we’re missing something else entirely. Or maybe not. Lots of eyes on waters everywhere. Just depends on who you are listening to/not listening to.
^Ocean grabbing — local fishing communities under threat? | DW Documentary^
You make some pretty good documentaries on some pretty interesting subjects. However, the music is really getting out of hand. A smattering of music here and there is great. It adds without detracting, and is a great way of hearing some new music I may have never heard before. However, I challenge you to watch the following documentary, and I want you to keep track of how much time within the film is absent of either music or some kind of ridiculous and over the top foley/added sound effects. Along with the narration, it is my opinion that you as the viewer are given no time whatsoever to actually think, contemplate, and make decisions for yourself as to the goings on depicted in the film. Of course, maybe that’s the point: tell the viewer what to think and why, and give them no time to ponder or question.
Have fun counting the seconds in that film, and thanks for the docs irrespective of my personal grievances with respect to them.
^The Beginnings Of World War 1 Explained | First World War EP1 | Timeline^
Anger? I get.
Rage? I get.
Fury? I get.
I don't get that at all
Sure, I’ve taken it out for a spin here and there, but I don’t understand the concept. It’s the one thing you’re supposed to have, except when you have it. Then it’s the one thing you aren’t supposed to have. I guess maybe “pride” is like a philosophical hot potato.
See a doctor and get rid of it
^The Hives – Hate to Say I Told You So^
Speaking of well and wells and being well and water(s) and such, Sophie, Sophia, Sewing and Sofas sure have been appearing on the radar a lot of the past few weeks.
Anyone got a line on what’s up with that sopping? Too much gravy and not enough bread? Too much bread and not enough gravy? We all have our crosses to bear. So the story goes.
^IDLES – MOTHER^
Ever heard of a PPE? I’ve mentioned what it is before, but think it deserves a revisit.
Can you imagine standing in line at a brick-and mortar store, the price was $7.99 when you picked your whatever up off the shelf, but the person behind you in line pays only $6.99 for the exact same item because the price was changed/lowered after you picked the thing up off the shelf? Bet you’re angry now, eh? What if the price went up tho. Would you then snicker at the person behind you and think, “wow, I’m getting a really great deal!”
Mortgages work like that
Whether you do or don’t pay thousands over the term of a loan could change in mere minutes. Kinda depends on when you commit and why. You wanted the best price, you got it.
Of course, if you’d have waited another hour, you could have gotten an even better deal. But is this really that big of a shocker? You’re in this game. Part of it. One of the wheels that makes the machine go, and every single thing you do is gonna cascade in some way, shape or form. Maybe you weren’t aware of that. Maybe your mortgage loan, and your committing to it when you did, was the straw that broke the finance camel’s back and made rates drop even lower.
^the flowers – after dark^
Well, this is strange...
Looks almost…balanced. Gotta keep in mind tho, some resonances are quite destructive when they are “balanced”.
^Fontaines D.C. – Boys In The Better Land (Darklands Version)^
You hear about that dude that got stuck upside down on the chimney and died? Sucks. I watched some documentaries sometime back on people in the UK that demolish old chimneys by hand. Makes sense. These things were put up by hand, so, why not bring them down by hand. Brick by brick, up they went. But when it’s time to come down? Some just want the fuckers gone, and fast. I guess that was Nobel’s whole point tho. Watt’s also. Lenor’s and Otto’s. And Whitney’s, Tesla’s and Edison’s too. Do the work of many with much less and/or little to none.
Where was I? Oh yeah, died with a hammer in his hand. For those interested in the more mystical and associative kinds of inference, I guess “the hanged man” and “the dead man” instantly spring to mind. However, what about the man?
Yeah, the person
Some dude, working a shitty and dangerous job, something goes wrong, story ends. For him it does. I’d bet he didn’t wake up yesterday morning and say, “Oh boy oh boy, I sure as shit hope something goes really fuckin’ awry today and I wind up a media sensation which causes the soothsayers and psychics to lose their everlovin’ minds.” Considering the goings on in Parliaments all over the world, some might interpret that poor dude’s death as something…
Ironic, that here I sit, doing pretty much the very thing I’m damning. Trying my best not to read into any symbolism, although my mind is certainly awash in symbolism tho. But at the same time, thinking about this dude, his family, friends, the people that had to try and rescue him/eventually pull his body down…all kinds of people affected in all kinds of ways, all over the place, both directly and indirectly/less-directly.
^John Henry: One of America’s Warriors^
How does one talk about things? I don’t think there’s an answer. Not a correct one anyway. You talk about a something, or you don’t. Either way, might wanna prepare yourself for a smack on the snout irrespective of which choice you make.
You can read just about anything. Draw all kinds of stuff from that and those well(s), make all kinds of conjectures and reach all kinds of conclusions. Still, you have to walk the walk of your chosen path.
^Psychedelic Porn Crumpets – Found God in a Tomato^
Having a dream within a dream sounds like a cool concept. Until it actually happens anyway. How do you relate such an experience, and to whom do you relate it to? For what purpose(s)? If you had similar or same and wanna talk, sure. But to just spout the experience out to garner attention? Well, that kinda makes sense too on some levels.
Being alone is...scary
Anyway, if you wanna talk, sure, I’ll give it a go, but I personally have no agenda. Any agenda(s) you might have/bring to the discussion may be a shade…transparent. Maybe not specifics, but a dark spot is still a spot. Easy to spot. In the interest(s) of transparency, prolly best I’m upfront about that.
Bring the noise
^Grimes – We Appreciate Power (Lyric Video)^
Hang in there fellow humanoid type entities. Sunshine sucks without rain. Oh, and this whole “potable” and “top table” mess started off because I dropped by C Frank Davis’ place first thing this morning and read his latest post. Lots of weirdness going on over there in the UK both inside and out. I guess there are those looking to create a wave of dissent they can ride until that magical 2050 mark. Makes sense, but also doesn’t. 2050AD/CE is arbitrary as hell whilst riding on a planet that is supposedly 4.5 billion year old, and this same planet is swimming in a 13.8 billion year old sea. Delay, until established, then hold. Hold until relieved. That’s the only thing I can figure.
^London Grammar – Strong [Official Video]^