Cade recently wrote the phrase ‘turd in the punch bowl‘ to me in a discussion we were having about bubbles…
Well, to be fair, he did most of the discussing…
And it got me thinking as to whether election of Prez Trump in the US and the vote to leave the EU in the UK last year, weren’t the general public, in both countries, taking the opportunity to ‘throw a turd’ into the punch bowls of the political/governing elite: We’re sick of your parties.
Perhaps those that voted for the status quo (‘Clinton’ in the US and ‘Remain’ in the UK) consider the other side to be ‘party poopers‘?
*Not sure that scene works as well these days, Clicky… For one thing the host is smoking; smokers aren’t invited inside these days…/taps teeth… what about the other scene with that Song… ‘Shat!’*
*Hmm, more fun but no one smoking in that either…/sigh… Perhaps because animals don’t smoke? …aside from your good self, Clicky…*
*… and the odd member of the Corvus family… Also considered to be intelligent…*
Frank Davis today, in the Blue Universe, has a post that includes an image the new Vice Prez Pence, who, like Nigel Farage…
*Oh nice syncing, Clicky…/pats snout…*
…in the UK, is more supportive of smokers…
idiot (n.)early 14c., “person so mentally deficient as to be incapable of ordinary reasoning;” also in Middle English “simple man, uneducated person, layman” (late 14c.), from Old French idiote“uneducated or ignorant person” (12c.), from Latin idiota“ordinary person, layman; outsider,” in Late Latin “uneducated or ignorant person,” from Greek idiotes“layman, person lacking professional skill” (opposed to writer, soldier, skilled workman), literally “private person” (as opposed to one taking part in public affairs), used patronizingly for “ignorant person,” from idios“one’s own” (see idiom).
In plural, the Greek word could mean “one’s own countrymen.” In old English law, one who has been without reasoning or understanding from birth, as distinguished from a lunatic, who became that way. Idiot box“television set” is from 1959; idiot light“dashboard warning signal” is attested from 1961. Idiot savant attested by 1870.
If we go with the literal meaning, anyone who votes somebody to represent them in public affairs is, literally, an ‘idiot’ 😉
Whilst twittering with Hugo, he sent me a link to a story written by a Clemmie, about a dead girl called RuthTurner, who talks to her celeb sibling via psychics…
‘Tis true, mediums may facilitate convos with her dear departed sis (15), but Physics warned Anthea (56) about her husband’s philandering with Zoe (27) a socialite…
Poor Anthea’s career trajectory had taken a sharp downward turn from the zenith of ‘TV Golden Girl’ after she sold out on her wedding day to a Snowflake.
The psychic story has already been updated once, and Physics remains, so it can’t possibly be a typo 😉
TUESDAY AFTERNOON
I received a missive from the Okie Devil that includes a famous physicist’s diagram. Had a bit trouble with Clicky… The lest said the better… But was also interested to hear Cade talk about ESP…
Um…no. I am not saying that. You said that. That said, I don’t think that ESP is what most people think it is. I think that it is much more complicated, detailed and complex than simply…ESP. But then again, I see both the “scientific” and “religious” sides of such a concept, and I see much much more than one or the other.
EXAMPLE: Have you ever been outside on a nice day, irrespective of the weather type/conditions. and just been like…”HELL FUCKING YEAH!!! WHAT AN AWESOME PLANET!!!”?
To me, that is ESP as much as anything. It’s almost as if God/The gods/The Universe is asking you…
“So…whadda ya think?” And then, give you a little wink…;-)
That feeling of being alive. NOT self-awareness…I’m talking about something else entirely. That feeling that NOTHING matters in this moment except the moment itself. Just you, and that moment, and all that came together over the history of histories, and over the time of times….just to make that one perfect moment for you. It’s almost as if God him or herself dropped by in that moment, just to say hi. No worries, no birth, no death, just…now.
Those moments last forever eh?
To me, that is just one form of what could be called ESP.
The Creator’s love is something that we tell ourselves we cannot understand.
But sometimes, we understand it just fine.
Fucking-A and Hells Bells and all that shit! Prayer is ESP if you ask me.
But no one is asking me.
Unless they are.
*Oh yeah, Clicky, Clemmie’s short for Clementine… Someone specifically mentioned that name… /thinks… When was it, Sunday?*
*And Hugo just published his story about Nazi bunnies…*
*Well yeah, Clicky, most of the characters are rabbits… /raises hand and points… Don’t start…*
Later in the evening I posted a couple of knot-eyes over on Red Frank’s MEROVEE. Head of the European Central Bank, Mario Draghi, and a number of Italian politicians had been hacked by a ‘high-ranking Mason‘, and the breathless ‘news’ out of CNN and Buzzfeed that Donald Trump had procured himself some showers.
WEDNESDAY MORNING
Blue Frank put up a new post that featuring not only a Mason playing a high-ranking Nazi, but also a Monty…
Ah the Nazis, supreme coiners of the euphemisms like ‘Passivrauchen‘ (‘Secondhand Smoke’), you just can’t beat them… Quite literally it seems, as news of the growing menace of ‘Secondhand Sugars’ was announced to the world…
Just when you think the stupid can't get any worse. NEVER think the stupid can't get any worse. https://t.co/CAjXS0jWuA
Last night, and again today, Red Universe Frank made comment about Captain Oates of the ill-fated Scott expedition to reach the South Pole, together with a clip from Stanley Kubrick’s ‘The Shining’…
… Meanwhile Blue Universe Frank penned another fine essay on the group of people who were ordered to go outside on 1st July 2007…
*It’s certainly gonna be sometime before I venture back inside a pub, Clicky…/takes angry puff…*
… And this week I watched film by another great film Director, Oliver Stone…
Oh course, I heard about Edward Snowden, read and posted about the whistleblower at the time he outed himself, but was especially taken with a pivotal scene in the movie. One where he decisively steps outside…
GUARD 1: Hey!
SNOWDEN: Did you ever play with one of these?
GUARD 1: Yeah when I was a kid.
SNOWDEN: Yeah. You should try it. It’s hard.
GUARD 1: I can’t figure this out.
GUARD 2: I don’t know about this.
SNOWDEN: You’ve got to start with the white cross actually and then you do the corners.
GUARD 1: Ahh… Oh man look, I love these things. Hey, have a good weekend.
SNOWDEN: You too buddy.
*What does he remind you off, Clicky? …/lights up… The kid from ‘Third Rock From the Sun’… As he’s walking out…*
*/stubs butt… Knot the other one?*
*Yeah…*
*/shrugs… Suit yourself… /Checks time… Shit! It’s nearly time for ‘Sherlock’, Clicky… *
Due to unforeseen, technical reasons, Dear Reader, this shamble is now terminating… Many Apol! Loogies…
The shitsack in question, Dear Reader, being Dr. Stuart H. Kreisman…
Princess Leia ultimately killed by the real Darth Vader
…projectionist par excellence for ‘Physicians for a Smoke-Free Canada‘, with an exclusive opinion piece for the Vancouver Sun…
Carrie Fisher’s death, while very sad, can be turned into a meaningful public teaching moment.
*/dries tears of sorrow…* Oh yes! Let’s… *Clicky, if you wouldn’t mind…*
Let’s jump straight in to No. 4 in the list of things the Nazis apparently got right: Anti-Smoking campaigns. Although it wasn’t just campaigning they excelled at. No, they pretty well much produced all the original scientific research, at the behest of their fuhrer, that underpins today’s fearless Tobacco Control advocates’ arguments…
Smoking accounts for 10 per cent of all deaths in Canada, and kills more people than alcohol, drugs, car accidents, murder, suicide, and AIDS combined.
Now let’s look at No.2, ‘filming techniques’. Dr Kreisman kindly includes some thoughts about that too…
Recruit Hollywood’s help and take control of smoking’s image — show that it truly is not cool, but instead, a never-ending beauty-and-health-destroying, poverty-inducing, pathophysiological battle against nicotine withdrawal that mostly traps society’s weakest (and least enviable) members.
And let’s not overlook No.3 on the ‘Well Done You, Nazis’ list, their ‘Welfare Program’. Obviously having ‘one of the largest public welfare programs in history’ must have meant the goosesteppers took special care of ‘society’s weakest (and least enviable) members‘…
Many mental health professionals have now begun to address nicotine addiction head-on in their patients as a result.
Oh course Dr Kreisman omits that the only smoking Princess Leia is seen to be involved with on screen was the chemistry between her and Hans Solo…
*And looking smokin’ hot in that bikini… /nods… That, too, Clicky… /thinks… I wonder if an Endocrinologist has to take the Hippocratic Oath…*
*Hmm that’s not so much a stack of crap, Clicky, than a shit fan… /lights up… but I applaud the sentiment…*
*Agreed, Clicky… /drags deeply… the resemblance is uncanny…*
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)
The worse part of being a girl was that if your mate was prettier than you she would be asked to dance and this would leave you on your own if you weren’t. You felt embarrassed and even though you both agreed at the beginning of the evening that one would not dance and leave the other alone, when the crunch came ‘all’s fair in love and war’.
It was on one of these memorable occasions when Daddy ambled up to me and it all started. Margaret and I were dancing when the boys came upstairs and I saw these two blokes eyeing us up. I said to Margaret, “There are two boys coming over. Say No.” Terry asked Margaret to dance and she said, “Yes”. Daddy asked me and I said “No.” Margaret waltzed off with Terry and Daddy said to me, “I have just walked the whole length of this dance floor to ask you to dance. Don’t make me look like a fool now.” I danced and your lives began.
Basically, during the Crisis (Winter) Season, i.e. now, a Gray Champion arises from the masses, to galvanize the younger generation, generally to war. FDR was the last one. However, in this digital, electronic age we live in (h/tip Marshal McLuhan), it’s not just one ‘Gray Champion’ but the collective ‘gray people’, i.e. Old Uns.
And in the case of this particular blog: Stop behaving like Nazis and let us enjoy our pint in the pub with a smoke. We’re the Allies. We’re not the call to go to war this time, we’re actually the Voice of Reason.
A shadow hovered about me. I slide the headphones off my ears and attempted to look up.
“What’s up Kitty?” I asked, still dragging my eyes away from my PC screen. I’d been talking to Hugo, reading and listening to music.
“So, the fish was just in the sink, already broken, when you went in to brush your teeth?” I asked a pensive looking Kitten. “Okay, then, that is weird. Have you picked up all the pieces and put them aside? Dad might be able to fix it.”
He looked relieved. “Yeah. I told you, it was weird. You like weird stuff.” Kit Kat gave me a fancy bow and a wave…
*A bit more Rimmer, Clicky… /thinks… Like he was doing me a favour… How the fuck do you describe that? Thanks anyway… /pats snout…*
“Goodnight, mother dearest.”
“Do I have to go to bed?” Loopy called over, without breaking from his battle with a hoard of pixelated whatevers.
“No, you can stay up with me. You’re on holiday this week, remember?” I told him.
“Cool.”
Kit Kat and I synchronised eye rolls – Loopy would sit in that chair forever, if we let him. I kissed the top of Kitten’s head ‘goodnight’, and he left for bed.
*******
FRIDAY 28th October 2016 – between about 1600h to 1611h
Conversation between Roo B Doo and son Kitty Doo about where fought/thought/fault/fort/forte lies…
“But technically, it wasn’t me. It was gravity. I just gave it a little nudge.”
*******
THURSDAY – AFTERNOON
Thoughtful Man was sitting at his computer and I at mine. All was peaceful in the Library as I started to read the latest post from my good friend, Cade. I’d only got to the bit about inserting the lie, when I remembered…
*Yes, Clicky, that clown… Don’t do that! You’ll make me lose my concentration…*
“Shit! I forgot to tell you,” I told Thoughtful Man. I rushed upstairs to see Kit Kat. He was doing whatever teenage boys do in their bedrooms. I always knock… well you never know…
*Clicky, stop trying to distract me… Writing…*
“Where’s that fish you broke? Come show it to Dad. He might be able to fix it.”
Kitten was lounging in his Captain’s chair and got up begrudgingly, as teenage boys are want to do. He collected the fish pieces from the bathroom, handed them over and then followed me back downstairs, with a gracelessness that only 15 year old boys can truly muster.
“This fish…” I turned the body of the fish over in my hands and stopped. “Oh, it says made in Mexico. Did we buy this in Grenada or Phoenix? I thought it was Grenada.” I passed the broken pieces across to Thoughtful Man.
“Arizona,” he replied, attempting to fit them together. Part of the head had smashed off and a fin. He inserted the few straggler shards and held it up for inspection. “Traveled a long way, this fish to come live with us. Yeah, I’ll glue that back together. How did it happen?”
I felt Kit Kat stiffen from across the room, where he was taking a suspiciously long pause in the doorway…
*He wasn’t smoking! Clicky, please, go do something else…*
“Oh it’s really weird,” I explained to Thoughtful Man. “The other night when Kit Kat went to brush he teeth, he found it, broken in the sink. An earthquake is a more likely than it spontaneously leap of faith, wouldn’t you say, Kitty?”
I turned to my son, inviting him to give his opinion on the flying/jumping/shaking fish phenomenon he’d tried to palm me off with the other night.
Kitten looked at me before answering. “It was really weird,” the Boy That Breaks Things offered his father with a shrug and knowing smile.
*******
THURSDAY – AFTER MIDNIGHT
Kit Kat slouched into the Library and sat in Thoughtful Man’s chair.
“Mum, do you want anything from the kitchen?” he asked me. He’s always been thoughtful like that, especially if he wants something in return. Usually food.
“No thanks. Listen, come over here.” I beckoned him over to show him the image I’d created. “I’m writing a LoL post for you, ‘cos I wrote Loobie one, the other day,” I said brightly.
He sat on the arm of my big chair and gave a nod. “S’okay. You writing a post for me? Am I in it?”
“Will you read it?” I asked him.
“I don’t like reading,” he countered. He can be brutally honest went he wants to be.
“Then that’s your punishment for breaking my fish.” I pushed him off my armrest and he returned to his father’s seat. “I’ll tell you what, though, you provide me with three things, any three random things, and I’ll include them in it.”
“Accidentally broke your fish, which is actually my fish because you gave it to me for my toothbrush.” Kit Kat sighed, resigned to playing along to make me happy. He thought for a bit. “It’s about a cheaply made fish that I accidentally broke, so… The first thing is a really expensive fish…”
*******
Friday 28th October – Middayish, an hour after getting up
Opens unsolicited email from MJM, friend from the Blue and Y’Ello Universes.
Ninth email, from Frank, friend from the Red Universe, in an electronic missive chain discussing… well, that’s between him and me but it involves some of characters of the MEROVEE crew… They’re a fun crowd…
Kit Kat’s ‘I-really-couldn’t-care-less’ concentration was suddenly broken by the entrance of a mad dooshund, wrestling with a limpish sock from side to side. It had been quietly lying in the dirty laundry pile.
“Poppy! Let that go, let that go,” Loopy cried, springing up from his chair and attempted to gently prise the white material from the jaws of certain shaken death. “Come on, Poppy, give it to me.”
“And a sock!” Kit Kat exclaimed. “Expensive fish, Benjamin Franklin and a sock,” he finished with a flurry that matched jerky movements of the reluctantly dancing sock…
*Oh for gawd’s sake… /looks skywards…*
“Yes. This sock,” Loopy stated, giving me the sopping wet item before returning to his chair with our darling Popstar for a licky cuddle.
“Okay,” I said, putting the sock down and grabbing my headphones. “Anything else?”
Kitten looked at me thoughtfully. “Yeah, can you remind dad that my game comes out tomorrow?”
“Oh, I’m sure he already knows,” I said. “You’ve been heralding its arrival every bloody day since your birthday.”
*Ha! He saves his money and look at the fuck off size book it comes with, Clicky… /sighs at the irony… He’s never gonna read all that… /looks around… What’s left to do?*
*A Song? Nah, I don’t think it’s finished yet… Hey! Where are you going? Don’t piss off now… /huffs… Fuck it… /lights up, sits back, smokes…*
I was formulating a post in my head, when the Okie Texas Devil, Cade, stopped by the Library…
*Funny thing happened when I was searching for the clip, Clicky… I was reminded that Doctor Whowas in ‘Carry On Screaming’…*
*Legs calls him a popinjay, Click, but then Leggy is either No.1 or 13… *
*An Oscar for grouchiness, right… so I think I’ve worked out who are 4, 9, 10, 11, 12 and 13… or one… ish… it’s not easy, you know, Clicky…*
*Tell me about it… / sigh*
Anyhoo… Dear Reader, the rest of the post I was working on was left in reply to Cade’s comment, sew… if your interested, go take a look.
It has been a mystery ever since it was discovered more than fifty years ago, and all good theoretical physicists put this number up on their wall and worry about it.) Immediately you would like to know where this number for a coupling comes from: is it related to pi or perhaps to the base of natural logarithms? Nobody knows. It’s one of the greatest damn mysteries of physics: a magic number that comes to us with no understanding by man. You might say the “hand of God” wrote that number, and “we don’t know how He pushed his pencil.” We know what kind of a dance to do experimentally to measure this number very accurately, but we don’t know what kind of dance to do on the computer to make this number come out, without putting it in secretly!
Written in the sands of time… in which case perhaps god just used a finger?
“Wake up!” said voice and hand in perfect synchronicity. The former, gruffly, and the latter shakily.
“Wha…I’m not sleeping,” I stated, less than convincingly. “I’m listening with my eyes shut.”
Thoughtful Man and I were watching ‘X Men Apocalypse‘. Well, he was, I’d fallen asleep.
“You were bloody snoring.” He turned round to look at me. “You and the pup in harmony. It was more entertaining than that pile of crap.”
I shift up into a sitting position, careful not to disturb the snoozing dachshund by my side She looked so peaceful lying under the quilt, with just her head poking out, resting on my pillow. Like a human.
“No good?” I yawned.
Thoughtful Man looked at me. “You’re the one that fell asleep, you tell me,” he drawled.
I lent over and plucked a rollie from the box of home-mades on the bed. “At least you managed to stay awake,” I said lighting it.
“My eyelids did flutter for a bit,” he said turning his attention back to the tv. “But you and Poppy kept me awake. The boys are bathed and in bed, by the way.”
I kissed the top of his head, picked up my iPad and clocked the time. Still earlyish; I started idling through my emails.
“Ooh, ‘Young Ones’!” Thoughtful Man cried out and stopped clicking the remote. He faced me again, this time with screwed up his eyes, “I know this one… first season, last episode. ‘Flood’.”
Even though we’d caught the programme near the end, he still got it. And so we watched the seminal comedy of our youth, and oh how I LOLled…
*Enjoy that did you, Clicky? That Foamy, what a wheeze… do you want to carry on with what you were doing now? You’re doing a bang up job… /raises thumbs…*
*******
*… /waits… Is that it? Anymore? …/squints… *
Many apols, Dear Reader. On behalf of Clicky and I, please accept 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.
Library of Libraries 