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…*
Dear Reader, this past month has been a most peculiar one…
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 peculiartoo…*
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,JaxtheFirstmade 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.
Dear Reader, following the death of Grandad, yesterday I had the sad duty of posting */knot-eyes* on MEROVEE of the death of U.N.C.L.E Mr Napoleon Solo… You know, Han :D’s twinnish bro…
*/Slaps forehead… Again!? FFS, Clicky, watt is it with you and posting embarrassing photos of me? …/folds arms and taps foot sternly… I mean… Why, for Gawd’s sake? …/turns in exasperation…*
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…*
There was a train crash this morning in O Porriño, Spain this morning…
*Clicky, no! Porriño isn’t Spanglish for ‘it’s pissing down’… besides, it sounds much more Italian… But that’s not the point. It’s uncalled for, Clicky, people died…*
*Well, Red Frank did thank everyone for who’d triggered an idea in him and he’s into Franglish… perhaps you were already in that frame of mind, BlueFrank‘s been musing on language…*
*That’s a bike with stabilizers, not a trike… Hang on, is that woman smoking near her child? Fuck! The Shining could be banned… /nibbles nail… They won’t be happy until they’ve turned us all into not-sees…*
*Ah… Apollo rose… Rose, the colour of O Porriño’s famous granite…*
*Whoa! Way to derail a train of thought, Clicky… Or did you? /breathes in deeply… I’m gonna have to go and have a think about this. Give Dear Reader a Song… /wanders off muttering…*
Library of Libraries 