*Sounds like a good idea… /exhales smoke… Butt it DON’t say ‘working visits’…/coughs… He probably DON’t have to go through those detector thingies anyway… /taps ash…*
*Heh! …/reflects on curling smoke… You know, I used to go out with a Gareth Jones, Clicky… /drags… 1985… Year of Five Boyfriends… /streams smoke… He came from Wales…*
*Oh fuck yeah! …/grins… He gave me a loving spoon… /slurps cherry Coke… Still got it, overlooking the Kit Chien sync…*
… Sew, I was chatting to my friend and Welsh Dragon publisher, Leggy, about the visit last night on Twitter…
At last, Dear Reader, the Underdog Anthology V is published…
*Knot a graphic novel, Clicky… /streams smoke… Short stories, many authors…*
… I’d been speculating with Leggy late on Friday as to the date it might appear…
… The first ‘event’ listed in the Wiki link – ‘The Year of SIX Emperors’…
*Five pointed star! I was thinking of The Okie Devil of Textus… /flicks ash… Cade’s got stories in the book. I didn’t even think of that, Clicky… /pats snout… What did I list next?*
I am having a long weekend, Dear Reader. I spent yesterday daytime making final edits to stories in the soon-to-be-published ‘Underdog Anthology V: Six in Five in Four’. Leggy has a preview, in which he includes one of his stories from the book…
mid-15c., “belonging exclusively to one person,” from Latin peculiaris“of one’s own (property),” from peculium “private property,” literally “property in cattle” (in ancient times the most important form of property), from pecu“cattle, flock,” related to pecus“cattle” (see pecuniary). Meaning “unusual” is first attested c. 1600 (earlier “distinguished, special,” 1580s; for sense development, compare idiom). Related: Peculiarly.
*’Also KT and KH’…/drags… No shit! …/streams smoke… *
Then last night Cade and I resumed his introduction to Doctor Who, and also caught up with Leggy and Poppy… Les amis…
*/flicks ash… Knot a favourite episode, Clicky… /drags… although, excellent use of a jammie dodger… /blows smoke rings… I’d forgotten about that…*
*Like the villain, House, in The Doctor’s Wife, Clicky, Daleks are a bit like a sea anemone… /puffs… “hard on the outside, squishy on the inside”… I hadn’t made that connection before… /taps teeth…*
Anyhoo, in honour of Old Peculier’s neighbour’s cat, Dear Reader, and seeing as a ‘cat‘ won today’s Grand National, I thought I’d take a leaf out of Leggy’s book – pun intended – and post one of my stories from UAV. It’s short and called ‘Nine Lives’. The Knot-Sew confidential making of it can be found here. Enjoy!
*******
NINE LIVES
Karl sat at his kitchen table, smoking and observing the tendrils of early morning mist gently tickle the tops of the garden hedge, before continuing their soft creep to the ground. It was dark outside but the lawn glittered with stars; pregnant dew drops nestling in the grass caught the thin, amber light that spilled from the kitchen window. He stubbed out his cigarette and gulped back the last dregs of cold tea from his mug with a grimace. Not long now, Karl thought, she’ll be home soon. Outside the mist started to swirl and pool.
He stood up and stretched, bones creaking and knees popping as if to salute the end of his vigil. He fleetingly considered that he was getting too old for this malarkey, but she needed a watcher – someone to light the way back. He could bear the discomfort; it was only for the night. Karl rubbed his eyes under his glasses, and dragged his hands down over bristled cheeks to wipe any tiredness away. He contemplated putting the kettle on when he heard the first high pitched bark puncturing the dark. The second got him moving. “Not the foxes again!”
As he opened the back door, the wet slap of morning air to hit Karl’s face was accompanied by a rude crash and skitter of a dustbin lid falling, somewhere in the mist. She’s coming from the right, he thought, opening the door wider to peer out into the murk. More barks, louder this time, and a fiery hiss, were followed by the sound of clambered wood, as the garden fence shook violently. Karl held the door further ajar, and a white streak shot out of the mist and between his legs, into the kitchen.
Karl closed the door on the mist and the foxes who, by the sound of it, were now rummaging through next door’s bin for tasty scraps. He turned to the slight figure, lying on the kitchen floor. “For goodness sake, Lara, do you have to tease the foxes? It upsets the neighbours.”
“It upsets the bins,” Lara replied, lightly panting as she rolled over and attempted to sit up. “No, they were waiting for me. Foxes are not called cunning for nothing, Karl.”
“Yes, but they usually leave you alone when you’re hedge riding.”
Lara sighed. “It would seem witches aren’t held in much esteem these days. Not by people or wildlife.”
Karl surveyed the flush in his wife’s cheeks and her glittering eyes, and thought she still looked pretty formidable considering her advanced years. He also noticed the shudder in her arm propping her up. “You should get off the floor. What would you like, sofa or chair?” he asked, scooping her up, with barely a tremble from his own geriatric limbs.
“Sofa,” Lara replied with a wan smile. “Thank you, dear. And a cuppa and a ciggie wouldn’t go amiss either.”
“Funnily enough, I was just about to put the kettle on,” Karl replied, before lowering his wife, so she could reach out and pluck the cigarette packet and lighter from the kitchen table. A fat bead of blood splashed onto the surface below, quickly followed by another. “You’re injured?”
“Damn foxes.” Lara winced and drew her arm back toward her chest. “One of them managed to get a mouthful of armpit. I don’t think it’s too deep. Just stings a bit.”
“But you’re bleeding,” Karl said gruffly. Too gruffly, he feared, from the look his wife shot him. “Okay, let’s get you comfortable and then I can clean that up,” he continued in a more conciliatory tone, before carrying her through to the front room.
Karl noticed that Lara was already on her second cigarette when he returned five minutes later, to set out a bowl of hot water, soap, flannel and towel on the carpet before her. “Kettle’s on for tea,” he said kneeling down. He adjusted his glasses and gingerly started to lift Lara’s elbow. “Can’t let it get infected, how would we explain that to Dr Patel?”
“I can always change back so you can take me to a vet,” Lara replied sharply, pulling away from his grasp.
She must be in great pain, Karl thought. “Come now, dear, we don’t have pet insurance. We don’t own a pet.” Lara’s eyes briefly flashed at his riposte, but her body relaxed and she allowed him to lift her arm. “So apart from getting into a fight with some foxes…”
“Ambushed by some foxes,” Lara quickly corrected him.
“Sorry, ambushed by some foxes on the way home, how was the rest of your night?”
Lara took a deep drag from her cigarette. “Well it started off okay,” she said, billowing a great cloud of smoke. “I went to see Annie and girls down at Saint Michael’s.”
“And how are Annie and the girls?” Karl asked as he cleaned her wound of blood.
“Dead.”
“Naturally.” Any bleeding seemed to have stopped, but the swelling around the punctures had already started to bruise, turning an angry black mauve that only truly flourished on elderly skin. Karl stopped himself flinching at the sight. “You’d think they’d get themselves a spirit cat.”
“They’ve got a spirit cat,” Lara gently rebuked him with a chuckle.
“A ghost cat, then.” Karl smiled at her mirth. “You know what I mean.”
“Oh a ghost cat would be just as stuck as they are. Graveyards are lonely places, Karl. The residents like the company and the gossip. Especially the newly interred. Once the funeral is over, they rarely get more than a yearly visit from any family. If that.” Lara finished her cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray perched on the arm of the sofa. “How’s it looking?”
“Ugly but clean. It’ll need some arnica,” Karl replied, rising carefully to his feet. “That’s in the kitchen. Besides, the kettle must have boiled by now. No, no. You stay there. I’ll go.”
Lara laughed and shooed him away with her good arm before reaching for the cigarettes and lighter.
Karl could hear swearing from outside the back door; Jim must be up and found the aftermath of the fox fracas. Karl popped the kettle on and grabbed the arnica and some aspirin from the medicine cupboard, chuckling at the string of expletives emanating from over the garden fence. He glanced out the window to see that sunrise was already burning off the mist that had been so thick an hour or so ago. It looked like it could be a lovely day.
The sound of the front doorbell caught him off guard. Who would be calling at this hour? Karl wondered and went to open the front door. Through the frosted glass he could make out the shape of a woman in a bright pink dressing gown. What could she want? Karl thought as he unlocked and opened the door. “Morning Celia. Is everything alright?”
“Oh Karl,” his next door neighbour cried, her face puffy and contorted with distress. “Karl, I’m so sorry if I’ve woke you,” Celia started to apologise. “There was some trouble with foxes in our garden last night. I don’t know if you heard any of it.”
“No,” Karl lied. “But I heard Jim swearing earlier. Did they make much of a mess?”
Celia looked distraught at the suggestion. “Well yes, but…” she trailed off with a sob. “Karl, it’s Lara. I’m so sorry. They killed your cat.” Celia had not come empty handed; she held out a bundle, wrapped neatly in a towel, out in front of her.
Karl felt an icy chill bloom from the crown of his head and cascade down his body. “Thank you,” he said numbly, taking the bundle from Celia’s shaking hands.
“I’m so, so sorry,” Celia continued but Karl had already shut the front door. He felt the lightness of the bundle in his arms. It felt so slight.
“Lara?” Karl called as he carried it through to his wife, but the front room was empty. He laid the bundle on the sofa and sat down next to it. A spiral of smoke floated up from the ashtray perched on the arm. Karl turned and picked up the last of the burning cigarette and with trembling fingers, finished his smoke.
*******
I’m off now to introduce Cade to Thoughtful Man’s favourite companion, Dear Reader…
*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!*
*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… *
This here is a post I started writing this afternoon, before Cade sent back the top and tailing for the Inchoate Egg story posts published earlier: Part 1 and Part 2. It’s called…
“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 Reduniverse, Dear Reader…
*A born to be wild thing, caught smoking… /lights up… And scientists are baffled, Clicky? …/scans text… Ah, Nag Role sumfin’ or another… /deep drag… In DIA… /streams smoke…*
‘“I believe the elephant may have been trying to ingest wood charcoal,” said Dr Varun Goswami, WCS India scientist and elephant biologist.
‘“She appeared to be picking up pieces from the forest floor, blowing away the ash that came along with it, and consuming the rest.”’
And the reason the scientists think she’s taking up smoking, Dear Reader?
‘The charred lumps of wood can also serve as alaxative 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 MRSREGN? 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?
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…
*/final drag…*
… And one saturated…
"We're Going To Start A Revolution": 500,000 People Storm Washington To Protest Guns | Zero Hedge https://t.co/YLKsrFKYWI
Good afternoon, Dear Reader! 😀 It’s snowing again. Not as much as last time, but Thoughtful Man is out working in it…
*Hee is indeed… /blows smoke ring…*
… And I’m sat here, on Sat-‘ere-day, pondering the idea of an anthology short story about ‘hedge riding’…
*Great mates… /puff contentedly… I’m so lucky, Clicky…*
‘Can someone be both a Hedge Rider and Hedge Witch? Yes if they are practicing crossing the veil, second sight and also find their core practice in their garden etc. If one is performing herbal magic without the Journey work, divination,
and spirit work then they are practicing Hedge Witchery and not Hedge Riding. These practices very much compliment each other. Hedge Riders use poison herbs to aid in flight, while the Hedge Witch is able to connect with the spirit world through meditations.
‘The Solanaceae, or nightshades, are an economically important family of flowering plants. The family ranges from annual and perennial herbs to vines, lianas, epiphytes, shrubs, and trees, and includes a number of important agricultural crops, medicinal plants, spices, weeds, and ornamentals. Many members of the family contain potent alkaloids, and some are highly toxic, but many, including tomatoes, potatoes, eggplant, bell/chili peppers, and tobacco are widely used.
Looking out the window, I see that our garden hedge is cloaked in snow…
“enclosure,” Old English haga “enclosure, fortified enclosure; hedge,” from Proto-Germanic *hag-(source also of Old Norse hagi, Old Saxon hago, German Hag “hedge;” Middle Dutch hage, Dutch haag, as in the city name The Hague), from PIE root *kagh- “to catch seize; wickerwork fence” (see hedge (n.), and compare hag). Meaning “fruit of the hawthorn bush” (Old English) is perhaps short for *hægberie.
… thinking I’m glad I don’t have to go outside to smoke in this weather. I’d hate to be made go outside to smoke today, Dear Reader. Standing on the street smoking makes me feel like a whore…
*Yikes! /final drag… That’s a different kind of hag, Clicky… /stubs butt… Nightmarish all the same. I can use that…*
Stay warm and enjoy your weekend, Dear Reader. Oh, and… Have a Song 😉
*A train of thought for a flight of fancy eh, Clicky? /pats snout… Come on, I’d better start writing it… /lights up…*
I started a new job yesterday, Dear Reader. I’m now working on the 13th and top floor of ‘The Tower’ and the views are great!
And ‘The Beast from the East’ is paying the UK a visit, sew… SNOW! I thought I’d take some photos to show The Okie Devil in Text US…
… Speaking of whom, Cade has sent through a lovely missive. Enjoy!
*******
LET’S TALK NUMB DERPS!!!
I mean...NUMBERS!!!
Q: What percentage of the ingredients listed above, needs to be unavailable, in order to make the entirety of the finished product itself also unavailable?
A: 1 - 1 = 0
So, we can assume, that if 100% of one ingredient is unavailable to the manufacturer for a certain product, 100% of the other ingredients will be unavailable to you by default since the entire product will be unavailable. Just thinking here about “NEW COKE” that was introduced back in the 1980’s, and how the entirety of the food market is now based on?
...<drum roll>...
CHEMISTRY!!!
Why in the hell would a blended oil need fragrance?
I mean, when we humans swap fluids, there’s nothing that gets all stinky or anything. I wonder what is going on with oil(s) when they get freaky and start mingling?
That also gets me to thinking about the nature of bonds. Especially those bonds that we humans like to ignore, because they are just too damn inconvenient to think about. Those ones that are not cost effective, non-timely, too vague… negligible. Such as…
Q: I wonder what oil’s relationship is to oil(s)?
A: Yeah...those oils.
Any chance that Petroleum has some sort of bond with say…Canola or Olive Oil? What about…Chicken Fat? Spooky Action At A Distance.
(not a far enough distance if you ask me 😉 )
What if a certain oil requires another type of oil or others types of oils, in order to retain it’s own matrix. Like, in order to stay what it is, it needs some local contrast to maintain it’s own integrity. What if the oil(s) it uses to do this, is suddenly…gone? Are we talking mutation? Because as far as I know, it takes many and much to make a certain kind of oil.
Olive.
O Live.
Ol’ I’ve
/me shrugs therefore I am sure I've no clue
^DIGITALISM — HOLOGRAMS (OFFICIAL VIDEO)^
Anti...Foaming...Agent?
I’m betting that this is for the manufacturer more than the consumer. Or at least, as much for them as for us. If you can’t get the shit out of the bottle/can, no one is going to buy it.
Pro-Tip 01: For baking, I personally dump a bead of Olive Oil onto the baking pan, then spread it with a paper towel. You can also let gravity do the work by lifting the pan and letting it roll around.
Pro-Tip 02: Cold Oil – Hot Pan. Hot Oil – Cold Pan. You can stick your pan into the preheated oven and let it warm a bit, then put some oil on it and it will spread easier with less waste.
I mean, we’re likely talking about baking pizza-rolls or some other pre-cooked something…right? We’re just heating it up. We aren’t really cooking anything. Just don’t want our prefabricated frozen egg rolls sticking to the pan. Shit takes time, and you’ve no time. Maybe you should skip it altogether.
Water? ... Alcohol?
Water is bad and getting worse…and alcohol was/already is bad. So, what in the FUCK is it doing in my “Extra Virgin Olive Oil”?!?!? Without even having to reference gender, one could say that this product sounds kinda…
slutty.
Only 53% Olive Oil? Wait…I’m just a dummy grabbing random “shocking” images from Google Image search. Am I being honest here? LET’S LOOK!!!
Looks like that shit is sold in France, and that’s where lot’s of the world’s skanky and polluted fish is supposedly sold. Maybe someone is fighting skank with skank?
Let's digress back to water.
If the entirety of the world’s water is “polluted” how much control does that give government(s) over water? I would say “how much more control” does that give, but I’m trying to be optimistic here.
Hmmmm… I wonder if water “navigates” our being? That might be a good angle for you “Orwellian” types to ponder. Or“well”ian…
lolz...
A “well” sounds like a deep subject. Surely The US Constitution couldn’t be used as a model for controlling people in more and more abstract ways…
could it?
And even if it’s not used in The USA by US citizens, that’s no guarantee that others won’t use The Constitution as a model for stuff elsewhere. Don’t blame them tho. I mean…that’s what we Americans want/wanted … right? We want everyone else to be just like us Americans.
DEMOCRACY!!!
^Digitalism – Wolves^
Yeah…I’m thinking that aggregate and negligible is pretty important. Coal, is important to industry. Tin is important to industry. Rubber is important to industry. OH!!! And speaking of industry…
Q: Ever get the feeling that this “CO2 Emissions” bullshit is nothing more than a smokescreen?
A: (lolz...smokescreen)
Yeah…a distraction. You can make electric cars until Christ comes back, but they still have, and create, all the same problems and/or completely new ones + similar ones. “Our” problem, is waste and wastes. Much of the model and/or modeling that is used today is based on speed(s) and demands that were created during the wartime production needs of WWI and WWII.
Q: Why did we not slow back down?
A: A new paradigm?
Money? And just how much there could be?
‘Now I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away. Also there was no more sea.’
Revelation 21:1
‘The twelve gates were twelve pearls: each individual gate was of one pearl. And the street of the city was pure gold, like transparent glass.’
Revelation 21:21
No mention of Platinum streets, but I think that Gold and Platinum are closely related. Here’s a link to the entire chapter if you don’t like me paraphrasing.
But yeah…something about streets of gold. If you want symbolism and metaphors and other vagaries to argue over, methinks there are some there if you compare it with the vid below.
/me shrugs
^Mining Platinum From the Road Part One^
It’s already Wednesday. That means, that a certain someone I kinda know is on day two of a new job.
There’s also been other…news. I tried to start writing about this on my own blog on Monday, but even tho I didn’t know these people really, it was kindof a gutshot to me.
Should news like this have an effect on me? Should it not? Why are you telling me how I should or should not feel? We’ve no time for grief. We’ve no time for anything. Which makes me wonder, what do we have time for? Lemme know if you find out…k? Schedule an appointment, and we can talk about it until I lose interest.
^King Tuff – Psycho Star [OFFICIAL VIDEO]^
Let’s get back to bonds and bonding of the layered variety/varieties. Could oil really be a model for other oils? We’ve got our schematics and templates and plans and blueprints and standards and schedules and day planners and shit like that…so…why wouldn’t Nature have similar?
I mean sure, Nature, is going to be a little more fluidic and flowy in her creations and creating, but isn’t this the very rabbit that we are chasing? What happens when we finally catch this cagey and evasive little bastard, and the motherfucker has fangs powered by nuclear radiation?
Lolz...like...Godzilla, cept less stomping and more biting.
I digresslessishness. Sure Science has this kind of modeling, but Science does it in the lab or some other clean/sterile environment.
(that ought to be a bumper sticker and/or t-shirt if it's not already)
Erm…yeah…clean. Clean this, clean that. But I got a question…
Q: If labs are so goddamn clean, what’s with all the cleaning?
A: ??¿
I don’t envy those that work in labs. They’re nasty places to work, and I’m not sure which is worse…the gross nasty shit they bring in to evaluate, or the gross nasty shit they use to combat the gross nasty shit they are tinkering with.
But that makes me wonder…is it the contrast(s) and contrasting that makes one thing look better or worse than the other? Bleach may result in some level of “clean”, but bleach itself is one of the nastiest substances on Earth/Terra.
^Superorganism – Everybody Wants To Be Famous (Official Video)^
I was just thinking about black holes again last night, but I was thinking more along the lines of what is required to create a certain state within a certain element. Not only that, but the steps and processes that it takes to create and maintain the state of a certain element. I will quote my source, which is available by giving the video below a viddy.
^making nitrogen ice with vacuum chamber, that is -210 degrees celsius^
So we’ve liquid Nitrogen, we put it in a vacuum/vacuum chamber, and eventually our liquid Nitrogen becomes a solid. That get’s me back to “phasing” and states, which gets me back to aggregate radiation(s). Then again, I tend to think of almost everything as either a fluid and/or fluidic irrespective of a certain something’s solidity. Anyway, I’m thinking that maybe we don’t understand “radiation” as well as we think we do? Heat is too prevalent, and sound is mysteriously absent.
Hmmmmmm.
Something else is missing, and I think I know what that missing something is…
^Young Fathers – In My View (Official Video)^
!!!!!!!RANDOM WIKIPEDIA ATTACK!!!!!!!
!-RAWR-!
From today’s featured article…
Flight Unlimited III – a 1999 flight simulator video game developed by Looking Glass Studios and published by Electronic Arts. It allows players to pilot simulations of real-world commercial and civilian aircraft in and around Seattle, Washington.
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Music Analysis (journal) – a peer-reviewed academic journal specializing in music theory and analysis. It is based in England and published its first issue in 1982. Although the journal “is not produced on behalf of a society, it is closely associated with the Society for Music Analysis.
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Leanne Crichton – a Scottish international footballer who plays as a midfielder for Glasgow City and the Scotland national team. She previously played for Notts County in the FA WSL as well as Hibernian, Celtic, and Whitehill Welfare/Edinburgh Ladies.
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Ellen R. Sandor – an American new media artist. She is also founder of the Chicago-based (art)n, a collective of artists, scientists, mathematicians, and computer experts.
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Ballasalla – a village in the parish of Malew in the south-east of the Isle of Man, close to the airport and the town of Castletown. The village was built mostly from the ruins of the nearby Rushen Abbey, a Cistercian abbey founded in the 12th century and dissolved in the 16th century.
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Momo and the Time Thieves – a Danish-language opera in two acts by Svitlana Azarova. The libretto, based on the children’s book Momo by Michael Ende, was written by Anna Bro (da; de).
Londonderry by-election, 1929 – The Londonderry by-election of 1929 was held on 29 January 1929. The by-election was held due to the appointment as high court judge of the incumbent UUP MP, Malcolm Macnaghten. It was won by the UUP candidate Ronald Deane Ross.
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Battle of Palikao – was fought at the bridge of Palikao by Anglo-French forces against the Qing Empire during the Second Opium War on the morning of 21 September 1860. It allowed Western forces to take the capital Beijing and eventually defeat the Qing Empire.
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City Council– A city council, town council, town board, or board of aldermen is the legislative body that governs a city, town, municipality, or local government area.
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CitySurf Globe– a family of Geography 2.0 Geographical Information System software, developed by PiriReis Bilişim Teknolojileri, known as a new model in mapping servers and interaction with the end user.
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Richard Friend– is Cavendish Professor of Physics at the University of Cambridge and Tan Chin Tuan Centennial Professor at the National University of Singapore. Friend’s research concerns the physics and engineering of carbon-based semiconductors.
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Clive Nattress– an English former footballer who made 340 appearances in the Football League playing as a defender for Darlington and Halifax Town in the 1970s and 1980s.
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Dahomeyan presidential election, July 1968– A referendum on Émile Derlin Zinsou’s candidacy for president was held in Dahomey on 28 July 1968. The results of the May 1968 presidential election had been annulled due to low voter turnout. The military government appointed Zinsou to the position, but he accepted only on the condition that a referendum regarding his appointment be held. His candidacy was supported by 76.4% of voters, with a 72.6% turnout.
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Léon Hennique– a French naturalistic novelist and playwright.
We’ve got “non-society based” peer reviewed journals that have close affiliations but no direct ties, time thieves, opium war(s), a few political groups and potential members, “vote or else” types of goings on, arcane French writers, lots of technology, some more of that “new media” crap…whatever in the fuck that is, and in general, plenty of sport all around.
Good stuff! 🙂
^Digitalism – Gonna Be Good^
Wanna know what got me to rambling this morning? Or at least, what actually set me to writing?
Yep, that’s all I read. I don’t care what else is there. Not now anyway. Why drink the ocean, when a sip will do me just fine? I read the first paragraph, and all I could think about was going to grocery stores when I was a kid. Glass bottles EVERYfuckingWHERE!!!
You had produce, meat(s), and everything else was either in cans or glass or cardboard or paper. Then got to thinking about change and changes over the years…adaptation. I wonder how adaptation differs from mutation? I see the potential for some ripping there. And if there is a potential for ripping, are we focused on the potential, or the actual ripping part(s)?
Truth be told, we appear to have all of the same dynamics and mechanics of wartime, save for the recycling portions. We seem to be completely fine with disposable/disposability. Likely why we tend to think of ourselves as being nuts. We like to make ourselves indispensable, which I guess makes everything else disposable.
Or am I being cynical?
^James Blake – If The Car Beside You Moves Ahead (Official video)^
I’m feeling a shade better today. Been feeling like complete shit all week.
How are you?
That flu I tangled with for over a month really kicked my ass, and I never really even got that sick. Not many of the more traditional symptoms anyway. But it sure did a number on my chest. Not to mention all of the crazy weather we’ve been having.
70°F/21°C one afternoon...28°F/-2°C the next.
That shit gets old. ESPECIALLY when it’s warm at night, and then, the day gets colder as the day progresses. I thought shit was supposed to warm up as the sun creeps across the sky?
^CHVRCHES – Get Out^
Found a really wicked vid that shows some…erm…atmospheric anomalies if you care to check it out.
Great photography too.
Springs.
^planes clouds and vortices^
We can’t understand everything…until and unless we can. But who gets to make that decision?
^Alaska Airlines Great American Eclipse flight #9671^
Do you need someone to hold your hand while you are out saving the world?
Brush your hair for you?
Rub your feet and/or back?
Tell stupid jokes in an attempt to make you smile?
We can lay down some trail-dust, and sprinkle it with some stardust.
Have camera on my phone, will travel 😛
/me shrugs
^Boeing 737 – from a weather balloon^
If everything comes from somewhere, where did nowhere come from?
There's a bend there.
^Amazing A380, B787, B777 Appear out of nowhere at Schiphol Airport^
Is it possible that we’ve become so reliant on vernacular and it’s reusability, all while becoming so dependent on standards and commerce/capitalism, that we’ve gotten linguistically lazy? If kids are really graduating from school while simultaneously being labeled as illiterate, is that indicative of someone fighting a multi-front war of some kind? I thought that school was there for the people, not vice-versa. Lot’s of tiptoeing here. What am I talking about?
Delhi/Population - 18.98 million - 2012 (source Google)
University of Delhi/Total enrollment – 132,435 – 2015 (source Google)
I was watching a documentary the other day that said officials actually have no clue how many people reside in Delhi, and that the population could be as high as 35 million at times. Lots of immigrants and immigration. Loads of people come in from the sticks for medical treatment.
That said, it takes money to make money, and you can’t spend your money on making money if you are giving your money away to unproductive sectors of the economy…right?
Q: What’s productive about being stingy?
A: ¿¿?
GIMMIE FAT MONIES!!!
^Lusine – Just A Cloud^
I dunno what you think about. Not unless you tell me anyway. And if what you tell me has been washed and cleaned and cycled and recycled all into some something else that is not what you were originally thinking about? Yeah…confusion. Not that anyone would do that or anything.
But seriously, how much suffering can “John and/or Jane Public” endure before that suffering starts to trickle? Can ‘the captains of industry” really stand on the backs of others and persevere? Granted there is a shift to technology, but the singular nature of this thinking is itself teetering on collapse.
Maybe it’s a safety thing. If you and your SJW groups don’t stop breaking windows, I’m gonna fire all the mechanics that work for Coca Cola. And if there are no mechanics working at Coca Cola to keep the machines running, there will be no Coca Cola, nor Sprite, nor Coke Zero, nor anything else.
Sounds...familiar.
^Digitalism – Shangri La^
Maybe the time of “The Union” has returned. Unions are all but dead, not to mention that divorce rates are said to be skyrocketing.
I digressssss.
I’ve thought a lot about Unions. Prolly because I belonged to a couple: IAM/AW and Teamsters. But back when I was in a Union, they didn’t make any sense. Not much sense. I’ve got two people telling me what to do instead of one, and they both want my money.
Would it be possible to have technical unions? I know that laws here in The US are weaved so that it’s gonna be tough for computer programmers to start a labor union. Not to mention that once you get around Federal Law, you’ve got loads of State Law(s) you are going to have to tangle with, followed by loads of local law(s). I don’t think foreign countries have such problems.
^Hercules & Love Affair – My Curse And Cure (Official Video)^
I’m sorry you filthy Limeys have gotten blanketed in snow…I really am. It breaks my motherfucking hot and beating Okie heart…it really does.
It’s raining and warm here. I found a drown snake in one of the puddles out back. My guess is, that there is likely a correlation with precipitation amount(s) and hibernating wildlife. Not to mention shit like encroachment and bug spray(s)/pest control, available food sources, available clean water, and shit like that.
Q1: What effect does that one snake’s death have on the entirety of existence?
A1: ¿??
Q2: What if it was the last one?
A2: ?¿¿
Methinks, that every one, is the last one.
Do you ever think about where a grass snake is able to get a clean drink of water? What about a dirty drink of water? Water is water…right? Snakes are gross anyway…fuck em’.
^Muse – Thought Contagion [Official Music Video]^
Been thinking a load about intersecting gravities of both the horizontal and vertical varieties, but I’ve not much to say about it here. I just know that I’m starting to see them everywhere. Vertical here, horizontal there, and sometimes…both.
That has me to thinking about the more “finite” iterations of time. Depends on your vantage point tho. A Saturn V rocket looks quite small from 5 miles away. But if you strap your own ass into one of the couches inside the Command Module that sits atop of a Saturn V rocket? Yeah…they’re actually a pretty big rocket. They go fast too. Which has the effect of making both small stuff big, and big stuff small, and does so in rapid fashion. I wonder how our mind deals with such contrast and contrasts?
I know it’s taken me a while to get used to it. Not that I am really used to it. But going from far outside of Earth/Terra’s atmosphere, to deep within an atom inside of our planet’s crust, all within the span of a single second? Yeah…that shit takes some getting used to. Especially when time starts getting all wonky irrespective of scale(s).
^The Presets – 14U+14ME (Official Video)^
Can you imagine riding a single atom of Hydrogen for billions of years while traversing from the Earth’s crust, and riding that atom all the way to our planet’s core?
1855, of uncertain origin. Earliest records of it are in San Francisco and Sacramento, California, U.S. Suggestions include Spanish chanada, a shortened form of charranada “trick, deceit;” or, less likely, German Schenigelei, peddler’s argot for “work, craft,” or the related German slang verb schinäglen. Another guess centers on Irish sionnach “fox.”‘
… And ‘Fox’ segues nicely with the origins of this image…
… The list of this year’s Best Picture nominations, and their likelihood of winning the prize, as calculated by superstar statistician Nate Silver’s FiveThirtyEight…
‘The website’s logo depicts a fox, in reference to a phrase attributed to Archilochus: “The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing.”‘
X: Woah woah woah…what’s all this now?
Cade: Roob is writing a post.
T: And?
Cade: O hi.
T: Hello.
0: Why now?
Cade: I dunno. It popped in my head earlier, there was that thing with the sink, and now…here we are.
Z: One…big…whatever this is.
Cade: I agree.
B: You mean…you concour?
Cade: Rut roh.
B: Long time no see.
Cade: And howdy to you too.
X: Let’s get back to this “Oscar’s” business. Isn’t it actually called something else?
Cade: The Academy Awards.
X: What’s this “Oscar’s” business?
Cade: I dunno. Are you talking Schindler? Or…someone else?
Z: Don’t be coy.
Cade: I’m not.
0: Get to the point…Cade.
Cade: OK, well…water seems to feature heavily within the theme(s) of this year’s Best Picture category.
X: Did you even bother to look at the Animated and/or Documentary sections?
Cade: No I did not. I glanced at the Animated, but didn’t know any of them.
Z: Your kids done all growed up…is that it?
Cade: Kinda. But I don’t know any of these films really, so the best I do is…
B: Adapt?
X: Improvise?
T: Abandon ship?
Z: Run?
0: Compromise?
Cade: Prolly.
X: We’ve not done this in a while. Are you feeling a shade…lost?
Cade: Very much so.
X: Perhaps we should keep this short then.
Cade: Likely a very good idea.
C: I’ve a question before we go. What is that mess that’s been bumping around in that thing you call a head?
Cade: Just trying to focus a bit in a different direction.
A: Commercial venture(s)?
Cade: Not really, but kinda. I can’t sell anything I don’t have to sell.
Z: By my approximation, you’ve nothing to sail.
Cade: Gonna have to go ahead and disagree with you there sparky.
Z: We’ll see.
Cade: Or not.
X: Since when is not seeing, not also…seeing?
Cade: I guess since whenever it is. We tend to equate substance with definition. Something qualify-able. Something quantifiable.
0: What’s “non-quantify-able” about darkness?
Cade: I dunno. Sounds pretty fucking well formed to me.
X: But you cannot see it.
Cade: Sure I can. Just…can’t usually see anything else.
X: I like that.
Cade: 🙂
X: …
*/drags… Ah Clicky, how could I possibly forget you, oh dolphin assistant o’ mine? …/rolls eyes… A Roob-co-Clicky-co-Cade production… /blows smoke… Better? …/pats snout…*
… Cade makes an astute observation, there is a watery theme. From the setting of ‘Dunkirk’…
… Knot to mention ‘Ebbing‘. And even last year’s winner, ‘Moonlight’ is an influence. Kinda…
*/:O… Yikes!*
*/shakes head… Tacky, Clicky… /final drag… Very tacky…*
*Oh sorry, I misconstrued…the moon affects tides whether it’s the brightest or Darkest Hour… /stubs butt… Come on… /stretches… It’s getting late, Clicky. Let’s finish up and Get Out of hear…*
Sew… That’s the Bonner and Cade Best Picture presentation for 2018 for the LoL. As for who’ll actually win the Oscar? Like the statistician boffins at FiveThirtyEight…
‘We have no clue.’
Dear Reader… Have a Song 😉
*/squints… Mary J Bilge, Clicky? Come on. Bed… /pats snout…*
*******
Updated: Cade, the Okie Devil of Text US has written an accompanying post 😀
That’s the email message that accompanied the missive that is set out for you below, Dear Reader. I received it yesterday evening from Cade, the Okie Devil of Text US…
Just to be clear, this is our 100th Missive From ‘Merica…
Enjoy! ❤
*******
!!!HAPPY FUCKING DENTS PRESENT DAY!!!
Yep.
Dents are present.
Dense is likely present as well.
I am here after all.
Not to mention I am dense with dents.
Happy Birthday Geo Dub.
HBD to all other US Presidents as well.
Fuckit...
If today is your birthday, and you aren’t a President, American or otherwise, Happy Fucking Birthday to you too! ❤
^”To Anacreon in Heaven” A.K.A. The Drinking Song^
I mentioned this to someone last night, and it got me to thinking about eye-strain and/or difficulty reading screen fonts on a computer monitor. Me being me, I began thinking about my own settings on my own computer, remembered that this is NOT my computer, then went in to check my own settings.
ClearType, was off 😐
It’s on now tho. The screen fonts look COMPLETELY different. Instead of blocky and chunky fonts with ragged edges, my screen fonts are now soft and smooth and MUCH easier to read. Granted, this computer setting makes the color(s) of screen fronts a shade more “fuzzy” and less distinct, but it also adds an element that makes what’s on-screen, a shade easier to read. Looks much more like what you would see on a printed page instead of the pixelated sharp edges that are sometimes present on computer fonts.
^WHERE’S THE MONEY LEBOWSKI^
While looking for 18th century folk music, I found this…
“If you are unfamiliar with 18th century print, you may want to educate yourself about the usage of the so-called “long s” or “medial s”, which causes a lot of people to wonder why printers in the 18th century used an “f” where they should’ve used an “s”. The simple fact is, they didn’t – that thing that looks like an “f” is, in fact, an “s”.”
If you haven’t noticed, I don’t like quoting text from other websites. I’ve no problem stealing images and music, but stealing text is where I draw the line. I figure if you want to read about it, you will. If you don’t, no problem. If I parse the fuck out of someone else’s work, and post large blocks of it here, just to make a point of my own, I’ve likely no point of my own to make, and am just chiming in my endorsement of what someone else has said.
Not knocking people that do this, because that’s how we learn. There are FUCKTONS of standards and principles to stand upon, and we need those things. But at the same time, I think not formulating our own opinions in our own times about these principles, actually has the effect of making them less principled. I’m not endorsing sin, nor disorder and chaos, nor lascivious riotous rampages. Just making an observation that when a certain something, gains a certain weight and momentum, irrespective of what it is, it’s likely going to create sinful chaotic disorder and lascivious riotous rampages.
Doesn't matter what it is.
The more dense the hammer, the more “work” gets done.
^The Chieftains – The Raggle Taggle Gypsy (Lyrics)^
My dad had a coupla small brass anvils that he used for machining and molding certain metal parts. But brass is expensive as fuck, so, when I was in high school, I took a metals-shop class, and made him an aluminum ball peen hammer on the lathe in class. I fucked the handle part up, which was also aluminum, and had to cut it off real short. Aluminum is also expensive as fuck, so I couldn’t afford to buy another piece of aluminum stock to make another one.
So…pop got what was likely the shortest aluminum ball peen hammer ever, hand-made by the biggest fuckup ever who should likely never be allowed within a coupla-zip codes of tools of any kind.
Anyway, the hammer was aluminum, so it was light as FUCK. It was almost like you were not holding anything when holding that hammer. I checked several times as to whether he had ever used it, and he said he did, but I don’t think he did. To his credit, I did notice that he sometimes carried it in his tool bag.
^Roast Beef Of Old England – (Lyrics) Arr.P.M.Adamson^
Great. Now all I need, is…
Some wood,
Kindling,
An ignition source,
A fireplace,
A house to put it in,
A wife to put in the house,
Kids to buy shit for,
An education and/or certification(s),
A job to give me money,
A car to get to the job and store,
Insurance to pay for what is assumed to be incompetence and/or negligence on someone’s part,
Food to wolf down when I can find the time to eat when and if I can afford it,
Credit card to buy shit I can’t afford,
Bank account to hold my money long enough to transfer it to the credit card company,
…simple.
So yeah. There are “principles” fucking everywhere.
Q: I wonder if “principle” is as principle(d) as it once was?
A: ?!!!?
Or has it gotten…muddy. What am I talking about?
Well...language silly.
Language.
^Tri Martolod [Alan Stivell] Chant Breton.flv^
I’ve been noticing some clever techniques utilized by rippers, in order to upload copyrighted movies/video to YouTube. It appears that some are adding shadow movies to the rips in order to better disguise the digital contents of film/video. Like, they’ll rip one movie, then remove virtually all contrast from it to where shadows are barely visible, and then, rip the other movie and layer them into a single video. They may even be layering the same video rip, but they have two video streams that are out of synch.
I dunno. I just know that it was kinda creepy watching two movies at the same time, especially when you don’t know what that second movie is.
It got me to thinking about…
yep...
subliminal messages/subliminal messaging.
I’ve thought a lot about throughput within the human body, and in and around our environment of current times. We seem to make certain distinctions that the Earth/Terra itself is old as fuck, while everything else is new and modern and advanced…civilization. If that’s true, that leads me only to time…and stepping.
But I'll get back to that later.
What really caught my attention, was foley. The BBC is famous for their…erm…”liberal use” of sound effects and music. Especially in their documentaries. The appearance of music, and the timing of the appearance, the tempo, the type, the timbre…it’s all there to provoke an emotional response. To tell you how to feel. To tell you that if you aren’t feeling something, you should be. If you are feeling something, but aren’t feeling “this way”, you should be.
Let's be fair tho. Let's flip that script.
What if, the author(s) of said documentary/documentaries are simply telling you how theyfelt when writing and making this flick? It is their flick afterall. Nothing is requiring you to watch it. If they have some information that you need or want, and this is the only source, and if you don’t like the packaging, welp, that’s just too fucking bad for you…eh? They did all the legwork, they paid all the bills that came due before you showed up, therefore, they are the well…right?
Would you like one scoop, or two, with your reality dose?
It’s going to be both. The tides of information are always there. Sometimes a raging torrent of crashing waves, sometimes a mill-pond with a sheen of glass. Waters are always disturbing…even when undisturbed.
^Drinking Water On An Empty Stomach Immediately After Waking Up!^
I just can’t buy that there is a “one-size-fits-all” morning water intake that cures all of those diseases for every person. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure that I only have 2 of the diseases listed, and both of those are supposedly hereditary…Asthma, Allergies, even tho they didn’t specifically mention allergies.
Not saying that drinking water after waking isn’t a shocker on the system, because it is. If I drink water after waking from sleep, my body goes into motherfucking convulsions. But we aren’t talking about me here, we’re talking standards. We’re talking base(s) and basis. We’re talking principles.
I mean…parents…are you really that stupid? Or is it that we are electing a bunch of unsure self-debasers into positions of power so that they can self-flagellate their own personal guilt(s), shame(s) and failure(s) via shitty legislation. Who are these people who volunteer to put themselves into these positions where they can do no right…only wrong? It’s just a matter of who, and when, as to who is booing you, and who is cheering you.
Seems to me, that booing and/or cheering might be the problem. Or at least, “a” problem. You yell and bitch to them when they don’t show up, then you yell and bitch at them when they do show up. Where is it that we’ve all this free time to scream or cheer?
Shouldn't you be at work or doing something productive/constructive?
Weird seeing that contruction seems to sometimes be a factor in destruction.
^Documentary: The Fire of London^
Where were you? Yeah…we know where you are now, and we know where you stand…now.
Where were you then?
Where did you stand…then?
Being there.
Sometimes it sucks, sometimes it blows.
Sometimes it rocks.
Sometimes…it is what it is.
No one can piss off self, worse than self.
Just sayin'.
^a la nanita nana.wmv^
K…so, got to watching this documentary last night, and it got me to thinking about a lot of things. Ancient maps that accurately depict Antarctica “long before it’s discovery” is one of the things I got to thinking about. But I’m gonna digress here and take another tack.
After the doc, I stumbled over to a certain somewhere, and noticed a certain someone(s) had made some comments to another certain someone’s comments. A la, me, Roob, and Clicky.
Digress-ish.
I’ve been trying to get over to Hugo’s Probe and read his latest, but I’ve not read the one before that either, so, yeah…I’m all fucked up. Let’s seek center.
Digrestless.
Anyway, tunneling. Outside, inside and through. Barriers and shielding(s) that are as much a part of the conduit as anything else. I mean, a cable has a purpose…right? Keep shit out, keep shit in, and once our cabling we are creating does that, the cable itself becomes a whole that is wholly irrelevant, save for the “in” and “out” ends.
Now all we need to do, is plug something into something else via this conduit, and the conduit will play it’s part.
Q: How is this relevant with say…radio and broadcast television? What about…windmills?
A: ...
How could this POSSIBLY relate to mangroves and water(s) and water bears and aerobic bacteria that tunnel for their oxygen when no oxygen is present?
Welp, spin. Oh, and time(s). Three of them actually. Three times that are embedded in one. And that one time is part of the makeup of a time that is further nested in and with three other times.
So…4 times, which contains 1 time that contains 3.
HeightTime + WidthTime + DepthTime + TimeTime = Time
Each axis has two bases, moving and non-moving, and each of those correlate with the other two axes.
Juggling axes. We must be talking time and/or time and matter. Energy/energies must be in there somewhere too.
The deep end…I’ve gone off it.
^Sodom And Gomorrah (Biblical Archaeology Documentary) | Timeline^
We’ve got anger. We need somewhere to put that anger. I’m your man.
Or at least, I certainly can be.
Um…anyone have a label for that? Some kind of social defect or mental illness or personality flaw or spiritual/moral deviance or psychic disability? Maybe all of those?
If you know of any of those nasty associations that are applicable to me, please feel free to label me as such, and then let me know what those are via either direct or indirect means…whatever you think best.
I might need to seek professional help after you’ve finished with me.
^A Man’s A Man For A’ That (Opening of Scottish Parliament) – Sheena Wellington^
Did you know, that on September 10th/11th, of 2000, there was a meeting of The Royal Society to discuss the possible man-made origins of HIV/AIDS? Welp, there was. For the first time ever, an outsider was let in.
No? You aren’t hip or hep enough to know that song? WTF?!?!? I thought you knew everything! Welp, regardless, below is a song that contains a dude playing…
A LUTE!!!
Not only that, there’s a chick playing what appears to be a 7-string Cello!!!
Oh…Viol. Not, Viola de Gamba? Maybe it’s both. Prolly considerations to be made there with respect to contextual social situations. I mean, if you are an American, and you are in Germany, you don’t call shit shit. Contextually, it’s called…scheiße.
^John Dowland – Away with these self loving lads (live and unedited)^
I guess I can post that video where The Royal Society met up to discuss the possibility that Polio vaccines actually caused HIV/AIDS. Irrespective, it’s creepy as fuck to think that Polio vaccine comes from minced simian kidneys. This path I find myself on seems…familiar.
Scary.
^The Origin of HIV Aids – The best documentary – Channel 4^
I’m writing this whatever in OpenOffice’s Writer application. This will be my/our 100th. I still get a shade lost in this editor since I’ve only started using it. Don’t really need any of the formatting tools for these things, since it seems that the uglier the formatting that I send to Roob, the prettier she makes it.
Woman's touch I guess.
Anyway, today in America, is a day that was originally set aside to mark President George Washington’s birthday. Abraham Lincoln’s birthday is also in February on the 12th, so when I was a kid, we always looked forward to February because there was all kinds of shit going on.
November and December were madness in our family because of all the holidays and birthdays jammed in there, but after January 1st? There was a long winter dry-spell of not much of anything at all until Groundhog Day. Groundhog Day meant a countdown to Valentine’s Day, but it also meant Lincoln and Washington’s birthdays, as well as a mention to the Chinese Lunar New Year.
It is the purpose of school to teach. To omit and streamline is to limit. To create limits in schools is to teach limits. To teach limits is to test limits and limitations. To test limits and limitations is to filter. To get the cream to rise, which then itself can then be separated.
Sounds like a volcano.
My country…I love it. Sometimes, I even like it. But if you personally want everyone to agree with you, what’s with all the yelling? Doesn’t sound like you are looking for anything ‘cept a fight.
Someone to beat on.
Why on earth, would someone need another to beat on? I mean, what would you do if there were no one to beat on? Would you start beating on yourself? Or would you start beating-off?
^Fair Iris I Love and Hourly I Die John Dryden Audiobook^
I’m listening.
Pho! pox of this nonsense, I prythee give over
Just not sure what to do after hearing.
Guess I’ll keep going.
^Oberon from Peter Brook’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1970)^
Sometimes…ya just gotta get lost.
Maybe I’ll get found.
Or more loster.
Or both.
^Lolita – Sailor, Your Home Is The Sea (U.S. hit version 1960)^
Why in the hell would a blended oil need fragrance? 
Anti...Foaming...Agent?
Water? ... Alcohol?
