Hello, Dear Reader. Happy Fourth of July to you 😀
*How doo, Clicky? ‘Appy Independence Day to you, too…*
Apols! I’ve been away from the LoL recently, musing over whether the Internet has gained sentience without us even realizing it. Not by means of Artificial Intelligence, but instead with Aeonic Intelligence…
… I’ll try to explain my thinking, Dear Reader, but you will have to employ your own Clicky Click assistant…
*You’re a mammal, not a fish, Clicky… /rolls eyes…*
Now, let’s see… I guess this particular train of thinking started on the first day of my hols, the 8th June, although I was quite unaware of it at the time. However, if you will allow, we are in the year of 2020 Hindsight…
‘The Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone (CHAZ), also known as Free Capitol Hill,the Capitol Hill Occupied Protest, and the Capitol Hill Organized Protest (CHOP), was an occupation protest and self-declared autonomous zone in the Capitol Hill neighborhood of Seattle, Washington, United States. The zone, originally covering six city blocks and a park, was established on June 8, 2020 by George Floyd protesters after the Seattle Police Department (SPD) left its East Precinct building, and was cleared of occupants by police on July 1, 2020.’
*That’s a 9/11 Tweet pairing if ever I saw it, Clicky… /deep drag…*
*By changing ‘white’ to ‘allow’ and ‘black’ to ‘deny’, and then boasting about it… /stream smoke… Ain’t Twitter just cementing the racist meanings they’re trying to eliminate? … /shrugs… I mean, they’ve fucked themselves, straight off the bat…*
*Lashy did say Mneymosyne is an aspect of Gaea Sophia, Clicky… /stubs butt…*
So what, you may very well be asking yourself, Dear Reader, if you’ve been keeping up so far (well done, btw), triggered the silly bint, RooBeeDoo2, to write this post? How did she get to pondering the notion that The Internet might be sentient, with humanity as the gestation conduit for the emergence of Aeonic Intelligence, caught and subsumed by a web bed?
I’ll tell you – it was one of the gifs Cade left in the scrolling room on Twitter that he, Leggy, Poppy Sweat Pea and myself go to, to hang out, share interesting things between us and chew the fat. Like online friends doo…
Have a Song, Dear Reader 😉
Not sure if you’d heard, Dear Reader, but the UK government seems to have got it’s self into a bit of a pickle over Brexit…
*Oh yes, this is a deep purple post, Clicky… /puffs…*
*/blows… an’ yellow…*
I have availed myself of my banked Flexi-Time and taken this afternoon off from work. I wanted to catch up on some correspondence…
*TNT is from Norn Iron, Clicky… /flicks ash… but yeah, green…*
…And shamble about yesterday evening’s viewing with Cade. We watched the movie 300…
“Never was so much owed by so many to so few.“
Prime Monster ‘Winnie’ Winston Churchill, 20081940
‘Immortalised in Churchill’s often quoted assertion that never before “”was so much owed by so many to so few””, the top-down narrative of the Battle of Britain has been firmly established in British legend. Britain was saved from German invasion by the gallant band of Fighter Command Pilots in their Spitfires and Hurricanes, and the public owed them their freedom. Richard North’s radical re-evaluation of the Battle of Britain dismantles this mythical retelling of events. Taking a wider perspective than the much-discussed air war, North takes a fresh look at the conflict as a whole to show that the civilian experience, far from being separate and distinct, was integral to the Battle. This recovery of the people’s stolen history demonstrates that Hitler’s aim was not the military conquest of England, and that his unattained target was the hearts and minds of British people.’
*Shit! Wot’s the time? …/clocks wrist… Fuck! Free Lions are already playing Crow Asia…*
Must dash, Dear Reader… Have a Song…
*Wha? Whaddaya mean I fucked that up? Who the fuck are you, and what in the fuck do you know about what is or is not, fucked up? /me snorts*
Err…I mean, Greetings Dear Reader. I am still Mr. Slimey and I’m still filling in for RooBeeDoo and her Dolphin assistant Clicky, both of whom may in fact be vacationing somewhere in España. I’ve currently no proof to substantiate this claim, but maybe they’ll provide photographic and/or some other evidence upon their safe return.
*Ya know, at a cursory glance, she appears to be both bipedal and reasonably agile/mobile. Why exactly she’s crawling around on all fours is…mysterious…*
It appears that there is indeed a need for this 3rd part, but let’s let the lady take over at this point, and she can steer us in the direction of wherever it is we need be.
*I dunno, Clicky… /flicks lighter… I had started writing a post on the John Lamb Lash video talks… /shakes lighter… New format… /flicks lighter… He’s got a Limey companion now, called Ginny… /shakes lighter again… I’m enjoying the Anglo-Yank combo… /flicks lighter… Reminds of a sumfin’… /gives up and rummages through handbag…*
Not sure what Part 3, Cade thinks we need, Dear Reader…
* /rolls eyes… Oh okay, Clicky… /finds working light… *
The Hierophant In The Womb
“expounder of sacred mysteries,” 1670s, from Late Latin hierophantes, from Greek hierophantes“one who teaches the rites of sacrifice and worship,” literally “one who shows sacred things,” from hieros “sacred,” from PIE root *eis-, forming words denoting passion (see ire) + phainein“to reveal, bring to light” (from PIE root *bha- (1) “to shine”). In modern use, “expounder of esoteric doctrines,” from 1822.
This morning my good friend Shiny posted me a story link on MEROVEE, over in the Red universe, Dear Reader…
‘“I believe the elephant may have been trying to ingest wood charcoal,” said Dr Varun Goswami, WCS India scientist and elephant biologist.
And the reason the scientists think she’s taking up smoking, Dear Reader?
‘The charred lumps of wood can also serve as a laxative to the pachyderms who are able to consume it in the wild after forest fires and lightning strikes.’
*/grins… And Shiny posted it in the Red ‘Excretion’ universe of MRS REGN? Priceless… /puffs merrily…*
“divination by smoke,” c. 1600, with -mancy“divination by means of” + Latinized form of Greek kapnos “smoke,” which is of uncertain origin, perhaps a non-Indo-European substrate word that also produced Lithuanian kvapas “breath, smell,”kvepiu, kvėpti “to gasp, breathe,” Latvian kvept“to smoke, smell,” and perhaps Latin vapor.
That’s as far as I got, Dear Reader. It is a “very great fact”, as John Lamb Lash might say, that elephants never forget…
Reich-ous Hitler lost his War, Dear Reader. So if Lashy is correct in his telling of the Sophia Correction narrative, it rather begs the question:
Q: If Adolf had the whole fucking planet on his side, how in the hell did he lose?
A: Could it be?
Nah! It’s not like tobacco is associated with a goddess or sumfin’…
‘And at the spot where they had burned First Mother’s bones, there grew another plant, broad-leafed and fragrant. It was First Mother’s breath, and they heard her spirit talking: “Burn this up and smoke it. It is sacred. It will clear your minds, help your prayers, and gladden your hearts.”
‘And First Mother’s husband called the first plant Skarmunal, corn, and the second plant utarmur-wayeh, tobacco.
‘“Remember,” he told the people, “and take good care of First Mother’s flesh, because it is her goodness become substance. Take good of her breath, because it is her love turned into smoke. Remember her and think of her whenever you eat, whenever you smoke this sacred plant, because she has given her life so that you might live. Yet she is not dead, she lives: in undying love she renews herself again and again.”’
Two things happened this week. One with little mainstream media coverage…
… And one saturated…
That’s quite enough for now, Dear Reader. Locking up the LoL for tonight before we get arrested… Have a Song 😉
Thanks for having me 😀
That’s all there is for now, and there ain’t no fucking more.
It’s time for you and all your parts, to hit the fucking door.
Get your seated ass de-planted, and get your knees unbent.
Put some swagger in those hips, just in time for end of Lent.
The eggzit is where you’re headed, head there now and soon.
Or else I’ll chase you out with my….say, where’d I put my broom?
Seriously…I’m not fucking around…get gone.
I read the latest post at Too Long In This Place on Tuesday morning, Dear Reader, over my Milk Ana Dash breakfast coffee, and wake up ciggy…
*/lights up… Dallas is Cade’s home town, Clicky…*
…A post in which the writer, mentions that Dallas sounds like Delos, the birth place of the Greek god Apollo and his twin sister Artemis…
‘Ancient Greek writers, by way of folk etymology, and some modern scholars, have linked Artemis (Doric Artamis) to ἄρταμος, artamos, i.e. “butcher“.
I mentioned as much to Cade whilst we were DMing on Twitter on Tuesday night. I couldn’t remember if Apollo and Artemis’s mother was Leda (seduced by Zeus transformed as a swan) or Leto…
*Um, that’s the actor called Leto, Clicky… /drags… Actually, thinking about it, the Joker’s girlfriend ‘Harley Quinn’ is play on ‘harlequin’, a character originating from Commedia dell’ARTe…*
*Oh it’s ‘Lord of Illusions’… /puffs steadily… *
*Interesting… /taps ash… from the earlier link, Artemis and Apollo’s mother, Leto, is associated with wolves…*
early 15c., “meat or fish market,” from schamil“table, stall for vending” (c. 1300), from Old English scamol, scomul“stool, footstool” (also figurative); “bench, table for vending,” an early Proto-Germanic borrowing (Old Saxon skamel“stool,” Middle Dutch schamel, Old High German scamel, German schemel, Danish skammel “footstool”) from Latin scamillus“low stool, a little bench,” ultimately a diminutive of scamnum“stool, bench,” from PIE root *skabh-“to prop up, support.” In English, sense evolved from “place where meat is sold” to “slaughterhouse” (1540s), then figuratively “place of butchery” (1590s), and generally “confusion, mess” (1901, usually in plural).
The above was written on Wednesday evening, Dear Reader, but then I got diverted preparing for a job interview, and undertaking day-to-day generalities like ironing, washing, cooking, sleeping, working and reading others’ blog posts.
It is now Friday lunchtime and I cannot remember where the fuck I intended this shamble to end up, so I’ll let it go where it will…
*I saw that last night, Clicky, pronouncement from Apollo…*
*T’ease… /squints… Sew a joker?*
*Ah huh… /grimaces… I know you posted that on MEROVEE last night, Clicky…*
*DOW… Dogs Of War… /thinks… and ‘to top’ is slang for ‘to kill’… that’s where this post started, Clicky, with ‘Too Long In This Place’…*
That’s my lunch hour over, Dear Reader… I’ll be back later with a new post. In the meantime… Have a Song 😉
I’ve the afternoon off from PAing, Dear Reader…
*Ha! …/flicks lighter… Gotta say, Clicky, the flexitime at work is fucking BRILLIANT! …/lights up…*
…And I thought I’d do a shamble about #releasethememo…
*Oh course! Elephants have phenomenal memories, Clicky… /pats snout…*
1889, shortening of memorandum (q.v.).
early 15c., from Latin memorandum “(thing) to be remembered,” neuter singular of memorandus “worthy of remembrance, noteworthy,” gerundive of memorare “to call to mind,” from memor “mindful of” (see memory). Originally a word written at the top of a note, by 1540s it came to stand for the note itself. The Latin plural is memoranda. Compare also agenda.
…Coupled with the trailer of a movie I saw earlier on Twitter. To be released this summer, a prequel sequel in the story of Donna and Sophie…
*It looks like Donna could be dead, Clicky…*
*Heh! Donna the PA assistant to The Doctor… /deep drag… Of course, Clicky, Meryl was also Sophie…*
*Give or take… /rolls eyes… some choice! …/stubs butt… Memento/\Matrix, though… /thinks… No! One shamble at a time, Clicky…*
*/:D… Perfick, Click… /flicks lighter and lights up…*
… And then Cade DMed me with a story, Dear Reader… Cue selfies 😉
A story of release via escape, with a future plea in the past…
‘The three prisoners were serving sentences for bank robbery when they executed their escape plan using stolen spoons, dummy heads and a raincoat raft. Their exploits were turned into the 1979 movie “Escape from Alcatraz,” starring Clint Eastwood as Morris.
‘U.S. Marshal Michael Dyke, who inherited the unsolved case in 2003, told The Associated Press in 2012 that he didn’t know whether any members of the trio were still alive. But he had seen enough evidence to make him wonder.
‘That evidence included credible reports that the Anglins’ mother, for several years, received flowers delivered without a card, and that the brothers attended her 1973 funeral disguised in women’s clothes despite a heavy FBI presence.’
*The ‘A Gender’ Agenda? …/puffs merrily…*
Now, if you’ve been paying attention, Dear Reader, employing your ‘Clicky’ to full potential in navigating this shambles, the pics Cade ‘grabbed’, well, quite simply they blew my socks off…
… And he sent me some lemon and limey postit memos in return… 😀
It’s now Thursday evening, Dear Reader, and I’ve got ironing to do yet… Work tomorrow…
*/final drag… Nice one, Clicky… /stubs butt… Thanks for your help this afternoon… /pats snout…*
Have a Song ❤
*For Roob Noobs, PPE is Personal Protective Equipment. It’s also Purple People Eater, my first bona fide sync. This week, PPE also stands for Panama Papers Exposé… sum thing we’ve been discussing in comments on MEROVEE…
*Thank you, Click. Have some sardines*
Extract from ‘A Family History for Ruth and Julia (Gawd ‘Elp Us!**)’, a.k.a. ‘The Ma Papers’ by Judith Eileen Newton (formerly Shewan, née Packer)
One day I was thinking about all the tales that I had heard about the family and I thought It would be a good idea if I tried to write some of it down for you so that you could get some kind of an idea where you come from, and what kind of madness infects you.
I don’t pretend that this is a family tree – I have done no research whatsoever but purely remembrances and quips.
Where do I start?
I will start with the Algers and will probably still be writing about them by next year.
Your Great Grandmother was Mary Margaret Arnell and she lived at Dockhead.
She had several brothers and sisters and I really did not know any of them except Old Aunt Anne. When I have given you an overview of the Alger set up, I will devote some space to her because her story involves SEX and I know that’s what you are really interested in.
Your Great Grandfather was Alfred Alger who also had lots of brothers and sisters and I didn’t know any of them with any certainty. But I do remember going to see some of his relations somewhere round the back of Surrey Docks; I can’t remember who they were.
Grandfather Alger (or Poppy as we kids all called him) was very tall and very handsome, and having seen his wedding pictures I can tell you he was, so I suppose he was quite a catch. His mother had a kind of a gin shop up the back of Paradise Street and his father was dock worker which is how he got to be working in the docks because in those days you had to have a ticket to work in the docks, and in order to get one you had to have a family member to speak for you.
The union was very strong so people said that if you were a docker you had a job for life, so I suppose it was not so different to nowadays – we all think we have a job for life until new technology comes along and scuppers us. It’s who you know not what you know. Look at me for instance, sitting here in Bung Hockley writing on a Word processor, retired and all that, but I digress.
I suspect that there will be a lot of that going on.
**’Gawd ‘Elp Us!’ is Uncle Dickie’s go to catchphrase. He employs it whether imparted news is good or bad. His other catchphrase ‘Go on my son!’ was developed on Saturday afternoons when he would pop round to watch the racing with Dad and Nan. It involved a lot of energetic pouffe bouncing and hitting his thigh with a rolled up newspaper. Win or lose, every race ended with an exclamation of ‘Gawd ‘Elp Us!’
*Selfie time, Clicky! …/poses*
Echo was a nymph who was a great singer and dancer and scorned the love of any man. This angered Pan, a lecherous god, and he instructed his followers to kill her. Echo was torn to pieces and spread all over earth. The goddess of the earth, Gaia, received the pieces of Echo, whose voice remains repeating the last words of others. In some versions, Echo and Pan had two children: Iambe and Iynx.
*Oh, and one of the pair of us…*
*…and shots fired…*
*Irony, Click… Hey, that reminds me, Legs Posted ‘Passive Eating‘… It’s a thing now …/titters… and so is Passive Porking… Enough!*
*Aww… Ta Clicky… /blushes… Have a Song!*