*Oh fanks, Clicky… /puts fag to lips… Alex Robinson ‘as a post up abaht whyt? …/flicks lighter… Well, the play’s the fing, innit? … /lights up… Wot Song did ‘we’ chews to tweet ‘er link aht wiv? …/drags… From the Yt Stripes’ White Blood Cells album? Clever fucka…*
*Oi! I didn’t mean literally! …/coughs… Watch wot ya dooing wiv ya snout…*
*/flicks ash… Good movie, Clicky… /drags… ‘ope they do anovva…*
*Good idea, Clicky… /blows smoke rings…*
Cigarettes AREN'T dangerous. Repeat, CIGARETTES ARE NOT DANGEROUS...
...But their packaging art is PROHIBITED.
Highlights: "The Game deals excellency" and "Evil has no colour"
"Go on, go on, go on, GO ON."
Necking...
Roob selfie with Frank on Merovee
Lucky me! ❤
Roob selfie DMing with Legs
*/stubs butt… Blimey! Furteen of ’em, Clicky, trapped in the darkness…*
Le Saux is heterosexual, and he and his wife, Mariana, have two children. Despite this, rumours that he was homosexual circulated throughout his career after he said that he had spent a summer holiday with one of his Chelsea teammates, Ken Monkou. He attributed this to his lack of enthusiasm for the “typical” footballer’s lifestyle, his university background, and the fact that he read a left-wingbroadsheet newspaper, The Guardian.
This led to abuse from opposition fans and even players. He was involved in a running series of taunts with Liverpool striker Robbie Fowler while playing for Chelsea against Liverpool on 27 February 1999. During the game, Fowler repeatedly bent over and pointed his backside in Le Saux’s direction. Le Saux delayed taking a free kick to protest about Fowler’s behaviour and was booked for time wasting. Fowler claimed in an autobiography that at one point during the match, Le Saux shouted “But I’m married!”, which was followed up by Fowler’s quip “So was Elton John, mate!” Le Saux himself said that this never happened, and that Fowler had used ‘dramatic licence’ to make him look funny.
“People are obviously making the wrong choices, so we’ve got to help them understand and educate people away from this sort of behaviour, and protect our kids.”
*/quizzical expression… Any Old Iron?*
*Ah, Clicky… /nods… Any old iron hoof… Or, as the boys might say, Le Saux is so gay…*
*No, Clicky, I’m not saying…*
*No, Clicky, work is fine…*
*No, nothing wrong at home either… Stop probing me… We’ve a missive from Cade to post…*
*Yes! Alright, it’s fucking mad world, Clicky, and I’m as mad as fucking hell…*
*One headline, why believe it? Because it isn’t just one headline… it’s just the latest… /sigh… Come on, Clicky, Cade’s post… There’s a massive Wiki Wavy Wall that needs your attention… Meet you at the bottom…*
It occurs to me, that no matter what level you ascend to, or descend to, or remain at…there always remains somewhere else to go. Afterall, what’s the point of getting somewhere? Even if you had no idea what in the hell you were gonna do when you got somewhere? Is knowing important “en route?” Is it always important? Or have you gotten too focused on the asshole that is tailgating you? Too focused on the asshole in front that impeding your progress? Surrounded by idiots in traffic with nowhere to go? Not allowing things to develop as they do, might stunt your growth in ways your aren’t even considering.
Question: How Many Human Pathways Exist In Kegg Database?
Thinking about “the synchros” and “the storms” and “the chakras”…what could POSSIBLY cause a change in direction of the natural flow of energy/energies and matter, within the body, that may result in unforeseen changes?
A: ???
A: ?¿?
A: ¿?¿
Cade: So…erm…is that your name then? “Supreme Being?”
X: Don’t get smart with me.
Cade: Welp…if I can’t get smart with you…who can I get smart with?
X: You don’t really think that you are talking to/with God do you?
Cade: No. Only “crazy people” do that. But it would be cool to talk with God.
X: What about my…erm…I mean…what about “God’s Minions?”
Cade: Sure…I’d talk to them.
X: Now we’re talkin. Carry on.
I don’t really have anything particular to talk about currently…so…I’ll tell a racist joke.
There was a truck driver driving a load of bowling balls from one side of the country to the other, and was on a tight schedule so he was speeding most of the way. He was driving through a particular “in the middle of nowhere” section of this journey, when he noticed two black men hitchhiking. He felt sorry for them, and even though he was not supposed to pick-up riders, he stopped to pick them up anyway. However, he told them that they would need to ride in the back in the trailer in the event that anyone saw him with riders in the cab of his truck.
The truck driver is speeding along, when a cop car appears in his rear-view mirror and pulls him over.
There are two cops in the car, one of which goes to the cab and starts to write the driver a ticket, and the other proceeds to the back of the truck to inspect the driver’s load.
After a few minutes, the officer that was inspecting the back of the truck comes running towards the front, and yells at the officer writing the ticket…
Officer #2: Hey man we need to go.
Officer #1: I’m almost finished writing the ticket…just hold on a minute.
Officer #2: No…you don’t understand man…we need to leave NOW! This guy is hauling a whole truckload of Nigger Eggs, and two of them have done hatched!
Most people would think that the preceding joke is racist…and it is. But who is it racist towards? All kinds of stuff going on in that particular missive. Ignorance being one of them. I mean…if you are “Whitey”…and you live in “Whiteyville”…what is racist about that? Oh…How one treat’s “people of color?”
A: ???
So let’s flip-flop the dynamic.
If you are “Darkey”…and you live in “Darkeyville”…what is racist about that?
Oh…How one treat’s “people of color?”
A: ???
We know what we know. And until that changes, we only know what we know. Isn’t that the goal of many governments and organizations as we in “The Western World” think of these organizations and their purpose/purposes? To wind up building and maintaining “Mayberry?” To “get back to the old-ways” or “get back to the good ol’ days” or “get back to basics?”
You need a fucking quorum to do that.
The only people I see kicking down doors are well represented.
Somebody won some election somewhere in some kind of landslide victory yesterday or something.
<yawn>
I keep thinking about that tesseract that I seem to have seen in the back of that woman’s knee in a pic I posted a few days ago.
<break>
As I was writing the previous sentence, it occurred to me “how do I word this” since I don’t really consider what I write “mine and mine alone” since Roob edits, formats and posts these things that I write. So what occurred to me, is to word it like this…
I keep thinking about that tesseract that I seem to have seen in the back of that woman’s knee in a pic I/Roob posted a few days ago.
I’ve been trying to lay off of any formatting of any text that I send her, and leave it to her discretion as to what to make of what I write. But I also want it to be clear that we are indeed two different people with two different lives living in two different places that are thousands of miles apart…but we are working together.
A: I dunno. Any suggestions?
Anyway…I’ve been thinking about the dynamics of motion within the form of design and purpose. Especially as they relate to this “holographic universe” that everyone is so fucking hot-to-trot about. I can see it. At least, I think that I can see it. But the ways that I see it is in a way that I’ve really never heard anyone describe.
What I see is templates that are overlaid to create a template. And these templates are overlaid to create even more templates. If you add time, motion, and focus in there, maybe this is why some get confused as to the purpose and purposes of these templates, and how these templates sometimes create holographic representations that seem to operate outside of the normal boundaries of time and space.
EX: A mountain. Add a “Matrix Movie” type of overlay over that mountain, in order to show what the underlying structure and structures are made up of, and suddenly, you think that you have seen “the core” of the design as it relates to the “as-is” portion of that mountain. However, thinking about it now, it not only shows the underlying, but the overlay and overlays as they relate to the in/out and through.
Maybe this is why I think that “subduction” as science currently views it is horseshit.
You see rising and lowering.
I see waffling.
So…why wouldn’t they all be important…all at the same time? Why wouldn’t they all be important…all at the same time…forever and for all-time?
A: Destruction.
When destruction becomes disinformation that is misunderstood, it seems to me that destruction and creation are taking place at the same time under the banner of reorganization. So yeah…I think you’ve found what you are looking for. You just don’t understand what you are looking for maybe. Don’t understand what you are looking at maybe. Find the beginning…find the end.
A: Hmmmmmmmmm....I wonder.
Guess we aren’t as alone as we thought, eh?
If part of my skin “develops a pull”…doesn’t that equate to a push that will result in a pull somewhere else? Yeah, I’m thinking about injury/injuries and scarring here, but I am also thinking about something else…pimples. Acne, pimples, sores, wounds that won’t heal, repetitive injuries, Carpal Tunnel…shit like that.
If I eat a frozen dinner that contains a shitload of preservatives and artificial flavors and all kinds of crazy salts and oils and fats and proteins and whatnot, and then I go out and exercise, and I hurt myself while exercising…
A: Smells like mutation.
Well…it smells of mutation to me. But then again, I’m a complete fucking weirdo and nutjob.
So…the body says something like…
“Ya know…that whatever right there? It’s very similar to what I normally use/am used to, but not quite. How can I make this work?”
I guess I find it ironic that we are walking-talking-thinking-learning machines, encapsulated in a walking-talking-thinking-learning machine, that is made up of walking-talking-thinking-learning machines…and yet, we get confused as shit as to who is doing what and when and why…all while trying to figure out who is doing what and when and why, all while ignoring who is doing what and when and why.
That particular thought and thoughts and sentence may give the appearance that I am intentionally attempting to be ambiguous. But when you add time and times over time into that thought and those thoughts, it may be indicative as to why we miss so much in our thinking, and maybe even some indicators as to why we can never seem to “catch up to the present.”
If all of your whatever requires gadgetry of your own design to describe what isn’t there…erm…that sounds almost…erm…I hate to use this term here…but…it sounds a little…”Orwellian”? Grabbing something that is there, via something that is not yet here, via something that may never be. Maybe my seeing “Neutrons” listed on that “Carcinogens” list that I have above from 2007? Yeah…let’s produce more of those. Let’s create a double inverse of Protons and Electrons, Neutrons, and let’s produce a fuckton of them since “THEY ARE POWERFUL!!!”
They are powerful? No shit Sherlock. I wonder what this “excess of Neutrons” is going both attract AND repel?
Meh…I gots no answers…and people are gonna do whatever they do.
What’s the worst that can happen?
I can think of some things.
I’d rather not tho.
What would be the purpose, of “a pure vacuum”…other than to destroy it?
Ever had your ear just start ringing for no reason whatsoever? If we think about membranes and crossing energies, maybe there is more to this phenomenon than just some medical definition/reasoning. I mean, as far as I know? Ringing ears means “say yer prayers” because you are about to die of a heart-attack. And what would be the point of saying yer prayers just prior to dying, assuming that you know that you are about to die? You didn’t give a shit about your life, until all of a sudden you did give a shit about it because you were about to lose it, but you are about to see God anyway…so…what’s the big fucking deal?
Assuming there is a God/gods, it appears that you are about to have some time to go over the finite-details of your life in total, so…why freak the fuck out and try and remember all of that shit that you should have learned at church instead of shooting spitballs at the choir because you thought it was funny. lolz…not that I ever did that or anything…and not that there prolly aren’t times to “say your goodbyes.” But it occurs to me that these are personal choices…not edicts. It seems to me that these are what separates the sheep from the herd, and not just for culling for slaughter. Abraham’s son seems to have survived a culling for slaughter. Granted, a shitload of questions as to “why would God ask Abraham to do such a terrible thing?”
Food for thought.
Strange ways.
I guess I hate the thought of someone sitting across from me, them looking me straight in the eye, and asking me “if I see things.” Them asking me “if I hear things.”
I mean am I supposed to answer? Do I lie if I don’t answer? Do I lie if I purposefully answer incorrectly out of contempt for such a stupid question, when I know that we both know the answer and answers to these questions? Because we either know, or can learn, that these are just gateway questions to more questions. Are we looking for dishonesty? Or reliability? What if someone is reliably dishonest? Is that reliability? What about the whens, wheres and whys that these dynamics change?
There’s only one answer that you are looking for, but you never stop to consider just how limiting that answer is. Or at least, how you have limited yourself by seeking an answer. The thought that some permanent model waits to be discovered under some unturned stone, is like negating every other stone in existence, once you have overturned that one particular stone that you were looking for.
What about all of the previous stones? Did they not matter? Do you need to go and turn them over again in order to retrace your steps as to how you arrived at where you arrived? Did you return these stones to their original positions after overturning them, and if so, how do you know what their original position(s) were are? Aren’t they forever changed by you and your actions, just as much as you are forever changed by their effects on you?
Forever bound, by a sequence of events, that could not be predicted by either nor any…and yet…it happened.
Or something.
My sorting through a lot of my past has gotten me to thinking about much of the reading/learning/experiencing that I encountered when I was younger. I remember a lot of things, therefore, I have trouble with the concept of “originality” as it pertains to ideas. Especially under the banner of “there is nothing new under the sun” types of thinking. But thinking of me as a unique individual that is the product of countless generations of people that lived and died to provide me with the genetic mass that eventually somehow coalesced into this blog of hairy flesh that is me? Yeah…that “nothing new” kinda loses some of its sting, without losing any of it’s string. The threads of time that bound me into the me that is me, stings me here and there to remind me of me. That I am important, just like you, and them.
Yeah…I hate math myself. Primarily because math ALWAYS seems to involve someone else making me do it for more their benefit than mine. Turn me loose on a 10-key, and you prolly should just close up shop, because I am going to fuck that up completely and totally. BUT that makes me wonder as to when mistakes became taboo. And I mean, mistakes being so taboo, that they are completely and totally unacceptable…because someone’s life just might depend on it.
A: ???
If we are operating in realms that are so finite, that the individual that should benefit, actually suffers? Yeah…room for pause there in our thinking. Not that I have paid for and counted on services that I did not receive. But I keep going. When the way that should work for me stops working? Yep…seek another path.
Maybe that’s why the concept “monopoly” only works within the concept of “God” for any length of time.
Maybe that’s why “Acts of God” are so prevalent within the framework of frameworks that we frame.
Maybe we sometimes misinterpret these “acts” within the acts and actions within the act itself.
Maybe none of that makes sense.
Maybe I should find a fencepost to bang my head into.
Should I purchase my own fencepost? Or will any ol’ fencepost do? Don’t wanna make some landowner liable for my actions because I choose to bang my brains out on a fencepost that bordered public land.
Maybe there’s an easement there. Prolly some legal precedent. Not that precedents aren’t important…but…times can and do change. I dunno. I’m just some uneducated dude with a computer, a fair ability to type reasonably fast, and a shitload of freetime to sit and do whatever it is that I am doing.
Right today…wrong tomorrow.
Wrong today…right tomorrow.
Right or wrong today or tomorrow…write today or tomorrow.
Or something.
I guess I’m wrasslin with this concept of discovery as it relates to legacy and posterity, and how those concepts relate to the eternal. It seems to me that the existence of a non-existence of God/a god/gods, makes what we do within the frameworks that exist outside of those concepts even MORE important with respect to ourselves. I mean…if there is no “Superman” to save us…isn’t it our responsibility to save ourselves both pre and/or post?
We operate under the assumption that we are completely and totally alone in The Universe, and yet we create experiments specifically designed to re-create conditions that existed at the beginning of this Universe. I wonder what “The Amoeba Delegation” has to say about their representation, or lack thereof, in these experiments:
Are they fully formed?
Are they represented?
Who is representative of their representation and representations, if not if and of, themselves?
Are we their voice?
Says who?
Have ethics gone out the window?
Or did they just fly right back in after we tossed them out?
I can imagine that if all of the bacteria in our bodies “suddenly went on strike”. Yeah…deep shit…we’d be in it.
My legs and back are feeling a little better this morning. And so is my neck. My neck still feels like a bunch of soggy spaghetti noodles dancing with a snake of some sort, but I figure that it’ll get better at some point. Or my head will fall off.
Lotta stretching and pulling as of late that seemed to get a bit of relief yesterday/last night. I still feel like 50 pounds of shit crammed into a 10 pound sack…but I always feel like that…so…meh.
My feet are giving the appearance that they want to swell/are going to swell, but they haven’t as of yet. My balance is also a little better today. My quadriceps are pretty gooshy and seem to have trouble deciding which way to turn or what the flying fuck is going on in the rest of my body, but my hamstrings are making an appearance for the first time in decades. Left hip is pulling quite a bit at the crotch, where it appears that my hamstring and quadriceps have been doing battle with my calves for God knows how long.
Oddly enough, all this pulling in my legs is having the oddest of effects on my hands and shoulders of all goddamn things. One of my hands was cramping so bad last night, that I thought it was going to break. Same with my feet. I’m quite used to feet cramps…but sometimes of late, it feels like they are going to start breaking bones. I guess some of this pressure relief on my knees has helped quite a bit in this regard.
Oh…and still shedding skin like a fucking snake. Lotta old scars that I had completely forgotten about, starting to reappear. I wonder where they’ve been hiding?
Just in case anyone was wondering.
With all of this grinding and torquing, I imagine that there are a LOT of connective tissues throughout my body that are…erm…enduring a lot of give and take types of changes, and not just/only my skin. At least, not only the visible part(s).
I guess I should wrap this up…but I’m not going to.
The following song, which I am currently listening to now…is WAY too fucking cool to stop writing now.
😉
cYa | cFa
(-;
*How did you get here before me?! Never mind… /lights up…*
template (n.)
1670s, templet “horizontal piece under a girder or beam,” probably from French templet “weaver’s stretcher,” diminutive of temple, which meant the same thing, from Latin templum “plank, rafter,” also “consecrated place” (see temple (n.1)).The meaning “pattern or gauge for shaping a piece of work” is first recorded 1819 in this form, earlier temple (1680s); the form was altered mid-19c., probably influenced by plate [Barnhart], but the pronunciation did not begin to shift until more recently (templet is still the primary entry for the word in Century Dictionary).
wibble (v.) 1871, from wibble-wobble (1847), a colloquial reduplication of wobble (v.).
*I don’t think it’s just me, Clicky… Others have been feeling peculiar too…*
wobble (v.) 1650s, wabble, probably from Low German wabbeln “to wobble;” cognate with Old Norse vafla “hover about, totter,” related to vafra “move unsteadily,” from Proto-Germanic *wab- “to move back and forth,” perhaps from PIE *webh- “to weave” (see waver). Form with -o- is from 1851. Related: Wobbled; wobbling. The noun is attested from 1690s.
*Interesting! Tell me, did you look at the possible… probably root of the word ‘wobble‘, Clicky?
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
[Stevie Smith]
*I posted a comment about ‘the hand wavers’ yesterday at The Slog …/looks perplexed… Oh it still doesn’t seem to have appeared…*
*Bugger! … /sad face… How disappointing, Clicky… I pointed out how smokers are right here in front everyone’s faces, but people are conditioned to wave both us and our grievances away… It was awfully clever in a “Can you see what it is yet?” sort of way… I mean, it’s not white, heterosexuals of sound mind who are bearing the brunt of the bans… Although we, too, are affected, rich and poor…*
*Mind you, JaxtheFirst made an very interesting observation last night., Clicky.. how the Anti Smoking hand-wavers have distanced themselves with their hatred and intolerance… This ‘War on Tobacco’ they’ve been waging for these past 400 years… /clucks dismissively… Are they waving-waving or waving-drowning?*
warble (v.) late 14c., from Old North French werbler “to sing with trills and quavers” (Old French guerbloiier), from Frankish *werbilon (cognate with Old High German wirbil “whirlwind,” German Wirbel “whirl, whirlpool, tuning peg, vertebra,” Middle Dutch wervelen “to turn, whirl”); see whirl (v.). Related: Warbled; warbling. The noun is recorded from late 14c.
*Have a Song, Clicky? …/rueful smile… Oh, okay then… /pats snout…*
CLICKY: With one enormous chair…
Thoughtful Man’s Apol!Fon chirruped alarmingly, disturbing the calm before the Boys’ return from school, a.k.a. ‘The Storm’.
“Oh no, who’s died now?” In 2016, it’s the natural response. My money had been on Brucie.
He squinted at the screen and then looked at me in surprise. “Victoria Wood. Wow, I didn’t feel that one coming.”
I took a deep drag from my cigarette and smiled back sympathetically at him. “You might be losing your touch but actually, if you think about it, it kinda syncs.”
Now Thoughtful Man squinted at me. “How so?”
“The Ballad of Barry and Freda…” I looked at him him expectantly but he continued to stare at me blankly. “It was an answer on the episode of ‘Pointless’ we watched yesterday. Richard waxed lyrical about it.”
As is often the case, he dismissed my synchromystic observation with a roll of his eyes. But then, Thoughtful Man wasn’t aware that Vik had only just paid a visit the LoL…
CLICKY: Selfie?
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 year we went hop picking together. For those of you who don’t know what hop picking is, here goes.
The breweries needed hops to make the beer and the best hops were grown in Kent. But there was no machinery in those days to pick them, so poor families, who could not afford a holiday, went hop picking. It gave a break from the city, a kind of holiday, and some income for the work that they did.
The workers were nearly all mums and kids as the men all had full time jobs. They only came down to the hop fields for the weekend. I think it must have been before Dickie and Christine were born because I don’t remember Dickie at all. Then again he might have been a baby and I tended to deny his existence when he was a baby.
One afternoon an open backed lorry pulled up and on the back were Flo, her kids and half of their home. We piled on with half of our home and we all went to Paddock Wood in Kent.
I remember it so clearly and yet I must have been very young. When we got there the farmer gave us a hut with a large wooden bed frame and a straw mattress. That was about all. Outside was a lean-to with an open cooking hearth and a variety of large cooking pots and utensils. Flo and the kids were in the next hut and we shared the cooking and washing between us.
I remember that Nanny Packer had to sweep up cow pats before we moved our stuff in because the farmer had been using the huts to house them during the winter.
The next morning we went to the field that had to be picked that day. Every family was given a station to work from. You literally had to fill these large canvas containers with hops and take to the weighing station. The amount you had picked was credited to you in a large ledger. You were then paid according to how much you picked by weight.
At first it was a novelty and we all helped. But after a while it became boring and one by one the kids went off to explore. I remember that was very exciting, exploring the streams and trees, all the animals and things we never saw in the city. Scrumping apples and eating them even though they were cooking apples and I got a belly ache.
It was just like a little city: they had a shop for provisions and a doctor called regularly and so did a priest. The atmosphere was good.
Flo and Nanny cooked over an open fire and we all had to bathed in a tin bath. Because I was the youngest I always got the last of the water but hey ho.
On Friday evening, all the men arrived on the train from London Bridge to spend the weekends with the families. I remember them all going to the pub and sitting outside. The kids got a glass of muscatel and an arrowroot biscuit. If we were lucky, we would get a packet of plain Smith’s crisps with a small blue packet of salt in the bag. We thought we were in heaven.
We stayed for the whole six weeks of school holidays and came back sun tanned and absolutely lousy with fleas. We had to be deloused but it was worth it.
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