‘A wire as marking the finish line of a racecourse is attested from 1883.’
Yesterday, MPs voted on PM Jackboots’ DisMay Deal for leaving the EU, Dear Reader. It did not go so well for the poor mare…
*/flicks lighter… Didn’t pass the ‘smell test’, Clicky… /lights up… She dressed it up to look like Brexit… /drags… fooled the ayes, butt knot the noes… /streams smoke… Proper rotten it was…*
… I posted not-eyes of the result in the Red universe of MEROVEE. Cue Selfie…
The Prime Minister had better luck this evening, however, when the LOTO’s tabled ‘Motion of No Confidence’, following last night’s historic defeat, was beaten. Again by the noes. A short one; only nineteen votes this time…
This speech turning tonight's vote around to be a vote of no confidence in the Leader of the Opposition, instead of the Prime Minister, is bloody brilliant. Michael Gove is a hero. pic.twitter.com/Or5rzPpveJ
*Seabiscuit! …/final drag… Couldn’t find the scene from the movie, Clicky? …/stubs butt…*
In Reel Life: After losing the 1937 Santa Anita Handicap by a nose, Pollard tells Howard and Smith that he lost because he didn’t see Rosemont, the winner, coming up on him. He confesses that he’s blind in his right eye.
In Real Life: Pollard never told Smith and Howard that he was half-blind. His excuse for losing that race was that he had been stuck on the rail, which was slow, and was unable to get to the outside. “Had he let on that he was blind in one eye, his career would have been over,” writes Hillenbrand. “Howard accepted Pollard’s explanation without criticism. Neither he nor Smith blamed him.”
It’s sad to say, but both the Government and Opposition have proven themselves to be utter shite at implementing the result of the Independence Referendum. But what to do, Dear Reader?
‘The agnostic does not simply say, “I do not know.” He goes another step, and he says, with great emphasis, that you do not know. [Robert G. Ingersoll, “Reply to Dr. Lyman Abbott,” 1890]’
*/Lights up… Fuckin’ ‘ell, Clicky, it’s twenty past four already…*
*I’d better get on with it… /drags… Shambles always take me sew much longer than I anticipate… /plumes smoke…*
Gnostic teacher, John Lamb Lash (JLL) has some new talks up, Dear Reader. Cade and I listened to a couple of them earlier this week…
… There are four talks, in which Lashy [and his gal pal, Ginny] refute Flat Earthers and their theories. Interesting stuff, well researched but unfortunately we only managed to get through the first two and a bit…
*No, Clicky… /flicks ash… Of course the world can be round and flat at the same time… /drags… Nah, it’s their increasing nasty rhetoric and unfunny jokes that’s pissing me off… /snorts smoke…*
‘Listened to some more John Lamb Lash talks with RooBeeDoo yesterday, and I try and be objective when I listen, but it irritates me when he starts talking about Jews as if they were some kind of nigger or spics or something. Wait…that didn’t come out right. I hate nigger Jews haters that live in España in a spic neighborhood that has been infiltrated by eskimomos.
‘What’s that? You’ve never heard of Eskimomos?
‘Welp, recently, it occurred to me that Eskimos appear to be devoid of a racial epithet, so I came up with “eskimomo”. An eskimomo would be that one eskimo that always shits way too close to the igloo, or always picks the best seal blubber for themselves, or puts a black light outside his yurt during the summer in an attempt to simulate darkness but all it does is attract mosquitoes and grizzly bears…shit like that.
‘But yeah, the jewey jew jew shit gets really fucking old, really fucking fast.’
*I know! If I wanted to listen to that kinda crap, I’d join the Labour Party and blindly follow their messiah, Clicky… /rolls eyes… Fuck that for a game of soldiers…*
… Although I am currently reading JLL’s book, ‘Not In His Image’, and it’s really, very good. Inspiring, much like the bulk of his talks about the Planetary Animal Mother, Sew-Fire…
*/drag… Lashy’s why I started the ‘Selfie Sounds Like Sophie’ experiment in the first place, Clicky… /cough… He does say Sophie has a wonderful sense of humour… /thinks… ‘Not In His Image’ is starting to sounds ironic… /final drag…*
I probably will go back and finish listening to the remainder of the Flat Earth talks, Dear Reader. If only to find out if JLL has any Terry Pratchett in that extensive library of his…
*/stubs butt… There’s an awful lot of humanity on display from the eclectic cast of characters inhabiting Discworld, Clicky… /pats snout… And it’s funny as fuck…*
It was actually my friend Poppy Sweet Pea that inspired this particular post. She’s into cross-stitch, big-time; always has project on the go. Last night she posted a photo of her latest handiwork for Cade and I to see…
… And I was reminded of my favourite piece of Poppy Sweet Pea cross-stitch artwork. She made it for Legs…
‘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.’
*/final drag… Purple and yellow UKIP had a wolf, Clicky… /plumes smoke… Shame they dropped the smoker-friendly policy for the last election… /stubs butt…*
David, judging by this tweet and you replies to people below it, you have no concept whatsoever of how democracy actually works or even any idea of what Brexit means.
All of this and you being Vice Chair of the police federation is actually frightening.
— Count Dankula🏴 (@CountDankulaTV) July 10, 2018
*/drops jaw… Wot? That Remoaner nob’s the Scottish police fed vice chair? …/whistles…*
*Shit! Wot’s the time? …/clocks wrist… Fuck! Free Lions are already playing Crow Asia…*
I’ve got a day’s leave today, Dear Reader, and it’s absolutely pissing down outside, so here’s a shamble to start the week. This morning I read Amber had gone. Here’s a summary…
*Whoa! …/lights up… That’s some manspreadin’ he’s got going on there for the cameras… /drags deeply… Maybe it’s where he stashes his packet… /blows… There’ll be outrage…*
Still, us Wimminvolk are fortunate indeed that there’s a female politician, brobdingnagian in stature, just waiting in the wings and poised to take his remit firmly in hand…
*/guffaws… car-crash in slow motion… /drags… Not exactly quick on her feet, Clicky… /blows smoke ring… I wonder if she’s considered changing her stance? …/flicks ash…*
Whether or not Amber’s departure will lead to an irreparable loss of confidence in top politician bitch™, and another General Election…
*Fuck ’em! …/final drag… All of ’em… /streams smoke… Regardless of sex, politicians are a bunch of cunts…*
*Ugh, ghastly biscuits, Clicky… /sticks out tongue in disgust… The smell was bad enough, passing the the Peeky Freaky factory twice a day… /flicks lighter… Snot my taste. Not like the custard cream days… /lights up… I dawdled passed the factory on those days…*
This week, Dear Reader, I have been introducing Cade to Doctor Who. He’s a Who Noob…
*Knot anymore he ain’t, Clicky… /snickers…*
… And last night I also introduced him to the the Noble Donna…
*Martha was the night before, Clicky… /drags… And Rose and Captain Jack at the weekend… /streams smoke…*
*No River Song is tonight, Clicky… /puffs contentedly…*
“If you ever see a little blue box, flying up in the sky, you shout for me Gramps.”
Thoughtful Man and I had a blue box experience today, Dear Reader…
*/puffs angrily… Is there nuffin the bint won’t do to get out of Brexit, Clicky? /flicks ash… Don’t answer…*
Because I work on the 13th floor of the Tower, and because I have to take at least 20 minutes for lunch for my ‘health and safety’ – my time is flexible; I can bank the rest – I take one cigarette to work with me each day. Carried in a salvaged, old-style box. Today’s was a Mayfair box…
“You’ll never guess what happened at lunch today,” I told Thoughtful Man, shrugging off my coat, after he’d brought me home from work. He’s thoughtful like that. “I gave my cigarette to a tramp.”
Thoughtful Man squinted hard, the way he does when I mention I’ve given something away. Or interacted with tramps. I have form…
*That’s another story, Clicky… /final drag… Now don’t interrupt… /stubs butt… I’m tryin’ to fiction-all-lies an actual factual happening… /blows smoke rings…*
“Why?” he asked bluntly.
“Because she asked me for it,” I said innocently, slipping out of my work shoes and rolling down my tights. The first thing I do when I get home is strip off my work clothes. The change from formal to informal is one of the little pleasures I take from my day.
Thoughtful Man’s squint soften slightly. “She?”
“Yes. I saw her in the lobby of Tower as I was going out to smoke. Didn’t think anything of it ‘cos we get all sorts coming in everyday,” I said, pulled my dress up over my head. “Anyway, I went and sat in my usual place on the window ledge, round the side of the building. It’s less windy.”
Thoughtful Man was silent but I just knew what he was thinking…
*I’ll get there, if you stop interrupting me! …/huffs…*
I pulled on some jogging bottoms and Thoughtful Man’s old, raggedy sweatshirt. “And I’d nearly finished smoking my cigarette, when the lady tramp ambles round the corner. She was holding up a bottle of perfume.”
“Perfume?” Thoughtful Man interrupted me. “Like she was going to mace you?”
“Yeah. Do you know her?”
Thoughtful Man sighed; he encounters all sorts every day too driving his taxi round the mean streets of our town. “She’s completely fucking mad. I saw her today as well, when I was standing on the rank.”
I plonked myself in my Library chair and lit up a cigarette. “She didn’t spray me or anything. She asked me for a cigarette. I only had the one and I’d nearly finished smoking it. I said ‘Sorry’ and showed her the empty Mayfair box.”
“What did she say?”
I grabbed our small dog, who’d been buzzing round my feet, trying to lick my ankles. “She asked me for the one I was smoking. So I gave it to her.” I ruffed Poppy’s floppy ears and she gave me a smelly, wet, licky kiss in return. “And then she asked me for the empty packet.”
Thoughtful Man stiffened. “Did you give it to her?”
“Well yeah. I’ve got other empty boxes saved.” Oh how I hate the god-awful plain packaging government has foisted on us.
Poppy jumped off my lap and trotted over to Thoughtful Man, who picked her up for a tummy tickle. “I must have seen her after you did because, when she walked past me, she threw an empty Mayfair box at my feet.”
“Really?” I asked with a squint. I didn’t know whether to be amazed at her aim or annoyed that she’d dumped my little, blue box. “Did you pick it up?”
“No.” Thoughtful Man looked aghast. “She’d screwed it up.”
“Damn!”
*Shit! …/clocks time… I’ve got a double-bill planned for Cade tonight. We’d better finish up, Clicky… /pats snout… Still, no work tomorrow, eh? Come on flexible time!*
A tweet caught my attention this morning, Dear Reader…
I’m not that keen on the VEG(etari)AN movement. I don’t trust it’s zealotry and I certainly don’t trust it’s sponsors…
…Butt, as I’d mentioned last weekend, The Secret Sun site has been busy cataloging the current de-luge of Vega/Vegas/Vegan media messaging…
*That’s a concise little video, Clicky… /lights up… Thanks for pulling it out… /drags… I’d only heard of Jeff Buckley for the first time in the Blue universe… *
…I was intrigued to what they were up to now, so I decided to go and have a look at the “so sad and utterly depressing” article for myself…
*/smirks… I doo like to catch a Roobee reference, Click… /snorts smoke…*
‘My current favourite dinner item is Iceland’s hash brown fries (seriously, try them), dipped in mayo (I never said I was classy).
‘Now, I’ve got two ride or die vegan mayos – Plamil’s garlic mayo, and Vegenaise (only if it’s on offer, because it’s hella expensive) but my eye wandered today when I discovered that there’s a new mayo in town.
‘And it’s made from waste water from the hummus industry.
‘Yup, Rubies in the Rubble mayo is made using aquafaba – the water drained from tins of chickpeas and other legumes. It translates from Latin as ‘bean water’.’
*Mmm… I like hummus, Clicky… /taps ash… And I like mayo… /puffs… especially with ham… /smacks lips…*
*/deep drag… Way to kill the messenger eh, Clicky? …/fiddles with lighter… *
… I confess, Dear Reader, when I read ‘chickpea’ in the article, Cicero sprang to mind…
‘Cicero’s cognomen, or personal surname, comes from the Latin for chickpea, cicer. Plutarch explains that the name was originally given to one of Cicero’s ancestors who had a cleft in the tip of his nose resembling a chickpea. However, it is more likely that Cicero’s ancestors prospered through the cultivation and sale of chickpeas. Romans often chose down-to-earth personal surnames. The famous family names of Fabius, Lentulus, and Piso come from the Latin names of beans, lentils, and peas, respectively.’
… Roman Beans, Lentils and Peas, all vegan staples, but what is ‘aquafaba’? Back to the offending article…
”Of course, using aquafaba to make mayo isn’t new – the aforementioned vegan mayos use aquafaba from soy beans – but Rubies’ aquafaba is a byproduct of the hummus industry.
‘‘We were inspired to get back into the kitchen after we saw a vegan foodie blogger was making gorgeous looking meringue with aquafaba, saying it performed just like egg whites,’ says Rubies co-founder, Jenny Costa.’
*You just had to bring it back to physics, Clicky… /rolls eyes… *
*Yeah… /pats snout… I don’t understand it either… /final drag… Shall we wrap this one up?*
*What?… /stubs butt…*
*Oh fuck! Well that’s even more of a reason for hummus producers to sell their been water to the vegans… Waste not, want knot…*
Apparently, we are in the midst of a great ‘Chickpea Crisis‘, Dear Reader…
*I know! Shh…*
‘The price of popular brand Me Too! has gone up by 12p for a 250g pot and 19p for a 500g pot. But the makers say the price rises have been down to the supermarkets.’
Whoa! Brand #metoo is getting kinda pricey. I think we need a Song 😉
‘The idiom the straw that broke the camel’s back, alluding to the proverb “it is the last straw that breaks the camel’s back”, describes the seemingly minor or routine action which causes an unpredictably large and sudden reaction, because of the cumulative effect of small actions.’
Lots to cover in this Sat ‘ere day post, Dear Reader. First, let’s start with a ridiculous ‘camel’ item of news that crossed my twitter feed yesterday…
‘A camel beauty contest in Saudi Arabia has been rocked by scandal after 12 ships of the desert were disqualified because their owners had used Botox on them.
‘Prize money for the Miss Camel contest runs into millions of pounds, making the temptation to cheat irresistible for some.’
*A camel walk instead of cat-walk eh, Clicky? …/lights up…*
‘Competitors in the beauty contest are rated on, amongst other things, the size of their lips and cheeks, which is where the illicit use of Botox comes in.’
Generally botox, a highly toxic substance, is known for being used cosmetically to remove wrinkles in the upper third of the face. But wrinkles around the mouth? Well, that leads me onto the ridiculous ‘straw’ item of news that I saw yesterday, Dear Reader. Time for a ‘selfie’, this taken in the Blue universe of Frank Davis and his post ‘Obsession‘…
So let me get this straight: waiting staff, the very people smokers were thrown out onto the street to ‘save’, can now be fined $1,000 and/or jailed for providing customers with an unsolicited plastic straw…
*/deep drag… Hmm… Desert ships and an angry octopus, Clicky? …/thinks… Octo-pussy? …/*
*Ha! /streams smoke… Bonded… /taps ASH… The baddie crashes the plane… /sucks on cig…*
Funnily enough, following the last LoL post, Cade has did indeed written a music review, and one of the albums both he and his son, Poncho, reviewed was Lunar Womb by The Obsessed…
*/cough… It’s not my kind of music I’m afraid, Clicky, but I’ll accept Poncho’s word that “If Black Sabbath fucked Black Flag’s attitude after smoking a fat ass J, you have this album”… /continues puffing… Fascinating reading though…*
I also rewatched The Zero Theorem last night, Dear Reader. Cade watched it as well as he’d never seen it. He wasn’t around on MEROVEE in March 2014, when just posting the trailer for the film turned the Red universe of Frank and commentators upside down…
“neutral particle smaller than a neutron,” 1934, from Italian neutrino, coined 1933 by Italian physicist Enrico Fermi from neutro“neuter” (see neuter (adj.)) + -ino, diminutive suffix.
neuter (adj.)
late 14c., of grammatical gender, “neither masculine nor feminine,” from Latin neuter“of the neuter gender,” literally “neither one nor the other,” from ne-“not, no” (from PIE root *ne-“not”) + uter“either (of two)” (see whether). Probably a loan-translation of Greek oudeteros“neither, neuter.” In 16c., it had the sense of “taking neither side, neutral.”
neuter (v.)
1903, from neuter (adj.). Originally in reference to pet cats. Related: Neutered; neutering.
*Another straw, Clicky? Or Catty Newman…/smirks… the culture of ‘zero tolerance’ is inherently weak… /final drag… it has never learnt to tolerate… /shrugs…*
And speaking of neutral, I spotted a familiar face, topped with straw coloured hair on a bus in the film. I hadn’t spotted before, and it synced with another news story I read yesterday that involved a Swiss church. In the film, Qohen lives in an fire damaged church…
‘Scientists in the Swiss city of Basel have solved a decades-old mystery over the identity of a mummified woman.
‘Their research revealed a surprise: the woman is the great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother of UK Foreign Secretary Boris Johnson.
‘The body was uncovered in 1975 while renovations were being done on Basel’s Barfüsser Church.’
*And another camel, Clicky …/stubs butt…*
‘Now the scientists and the historians were sure: the mummy was none other than Anna Catharina Bischoff. Born in Basel in 1719, she died there in 1787.
‘Once her identity had been established, genealogists were able – with the help of the efficient records of births, marriages, and deaths which tend to be kept by the wealthier classes – to trace more of Anna Catharina’s descendants.
‘She had seven children. Only two survived childhood, but one daughter, also Anna, married a certain Christian Hubert Baron Pfeffel von Kriegelstein. Five generations of von Pfeffels later, and we find Marie Luise von Pfeffel marrying one Stanley Fred Williams.
‘Their daughter Yvonne married Osman Wilfred Johnson Kemal… and their son, Stanley Johnson, is British Foreign Secretary Boris Johnson’s father.’
Enjoy your weekend, Dear Reader ❤ … And have a Song… 😉
“We do not believe any group of men adequate enough or wise enough to operate without scrutiny or without criticism. We know that the only way to avoid error is to detect it, that the only way to detect it is to be free to inquire. We know that in secrecy error undetected will flourish and subvert”. - J Robert Oppenheimer.
I AM the SynchroMiss planted on Earth, here to share my downloads, intel, and code-cracking, integrating the art of synchronicity as we transition to a higher state of consciousness and awareness.
