Who Knows What, Clicky?

*A game, Clicky? /sigh… I am trying to put a post together… Okay, go on then; you go first…*

*No. My turn. I’m I Sherlock Holmes?*

HqoRPw8

*Alright, okay. Look now I’ve got one for you. I came across a site today that analyses your writing and describes your personality. This is me apparently…*

Watson's diagnosis of Roobeedoo's personality from her text

The IBM Watson Personality Insights service uses linguistic analytics to extract a spectrum of cognitive and social characteristics from the text data that a person generates through blogs, tweets, forum posts, and more.

*Now look at this one; this one wasn’t me…*

Watson's diagnosis of Maquis de Sade's personality from his text

*Similar, no? Guess who that writer is. I’ll give you a hint; he’s mentioned in this interesting talk…*

*It came as a bit of surprise to me. Go on have a guess…*


When the Music’s Over? Good Vibrations…

Prog on definitive sounds and GaryK30 is awe-struck by Beethoven

Musical discussion at Frank’s place today

*I know, Clicky! Do you reckon Jezza Clarkson got a vibe with the selection of that image? I’d posted my hand-made version in both the Red and Blue Universes… Shit! have you clocked the times on each of those posts? 17/07/15 at 1.37pm and July 23rd 2015 at 7.31pm… Mirror Franks, MIrror 137 timings. Cllcky… /fingers tremble… I had no fucking idea I’d done that…*

*I didn’t say you did… /squint…*

Prog’s post and GaryK30’s reply prompted me to look up Beethoven because he was deaf…

A large collection of Beethoven’s hearing aids, such as a special ear horn, can be viewed at the Beethoven House Museum in Bonn, Germany. Despite his obvious distress, Czerny remarked that Beethoven could still hear speech and music normally until 1812.[50] Around 1814 however, by the age of 44, Beethoven was almost totally deaf, and when a group of visitors saw him play a loud arpeggio of thundering bass notes at his piano remarking, “Ist es nicht schön?” (Is it not beautiful?), they felt deep sympathy considering his courage and sense of humor (he lost the ability to hear higher frequencies first).[51]

As a result of Beethoven’s hearing loss, his conversation books are an unusually rich written resource. Used primarily in the last ten or so years of his life, his friends wrote in these books so that he could know what they were saying, and he then responded either orally or in the book. The books contain discussions about music and other matters, and give insights into Beethoven’s thinking; they are a source for investigations into how he intended his music should be performed, and also his perception of his relationship to art. Out of a total of 400 conversation books, it has been suggested that 264 were destroyed (and others were altered) after Beethoven’s death by Anton Schindler, who wished only an idealised biography of the composer to survive.[52] However, Theodore Albrecht contests the verity of Schindler’s destruction of a large number of conversation books.[53]

*Just like the comment threads we frequent to converse in, eh, Clicky? It’s literally like I can hear their voices…* 😉

There is a film, called ‘Good Vibrations‘.  It is about the power of music. Shiny recommended I watch it and I’m so glad because I witnessed a man have an epiphany, well several…

*Oh bugger! Is that the time. Thanks Clicky… early start in London tomorrow. Damn! I was just getting into my stride… I’ll pick it up tomorrow…*

An Anti-Anti Anthem: Corrupting Lyrics

I thought I’d have a go at creating an Anti-Anti Anthem by corrupting some song lyrics…

*Aww… that’s cute Clicky. Yes it was at Leggy and Broken Girl’s gaff that I’d seen it done before *

Now this may come as shock to some people but I am a smoker…

…And I’m getting a tinsey bit fed up with antics of the capnophobes in public life trying to control my life with their incessant demands, backed by lies and wishful thinking. I wondered if other smokers were feeling the same way. What’s needed is a song…

This is a first attempt at corruption… constructive criticism in the comments is always welcome 😉

lyrics

Smokie-Readie Place

Samuel Pepys woz born ere

*I spotted the blue plaque on my way to the Smokie-Readie Place. Clicky, are you listening to me…?*

*Oh cheers! I’ll catch you later, then… YOU BIG FISH!! …/rude gesture*

I have a smokie-readie place. It is called Salisbury Square and it sits just off of Fleet Street, where I travel to a couple of times a week for my work outside of the… LoL…

Today I discovered that Samuel Pepys, celebrated diarist, was born en route between office and square. There’s construction work going on there at present… *Shit, I hope I remember how to do this or I’ll have to wait until Clicky returns*

Sit Down Smoking Place

*Yay! Who needs you, Clicky! /satisfied smirk…*

… so I stopped in the street to smoke a cigarette in my lunch break. That’s when I noticed the sign and remembered once reading an interesting factoid about the Great Plague

June 7th 1665

… it being the hottest day that ever I felt in my life, and it is confessed so by all other people the hottest they ever knew in England in the beginning of June – we to the New Exchange and there drunk whey; with much entreaty, getting it for our money, and would not be entreated to let us have one glasse more. ….
This day, much against my Will, I did in Drury-lane see two or three houses marked with a red cross upon the doors, and “Lord have mercy upon us” writ there – which was a sad sight to me, being the first of that kind that to my remembrance I ever saw. It put me into an ill conception of myself and my smell, so that I was forced to buy some roll tobacco to smell to and chaw – which took away the apprehension. [Houses infected by the Plague had to have a red cross one foot high marked on their door and were shut up – often with the victims inside. Tobacco was highly prized for its medicinal value, especially against the Plague. It is said that at Eton one boy was flogged for being discovered not smoking.]

I crossed the road and took it’s likeness on my phone. I was wondering if Sammy Pepe would be a shit hot blogger today when I noticed another blue plaque… */concentration tongue poke…*

First Sunday Times woz edited ere

… from whence I had come, to the birthplace of The Sunday Times.

The 20th of October 1822 AD

Not a picture in sight of course, just five columns of densely spaced type, the headline typeface barely larger than the text. And above it all the proud banner reading The Sunday Times. The first ever edition of The Sunday Times came out on October 20 1822.
With Europe’s great powers meeting in Verona to resolve the great matters of the day – The Spanish Question; the Italian Question; the Turkish Question – as the continent recovered its balance post-Napoleon, it was a good time to launch a newspaper. Except that in reality this was not so much a launch as a re-branding. Its predecessor The New Observer had hit the streets in February the previous year, the title a deliberate ploy to confuse and attract readers of the long established Observer ; briefly re-named The Independent Observer, it finally settled on The Sunday Times. It had no link with The Times , but as with the original title it sought to cash in on the renown of its rival.
The owner and leading light of The Sunday Times was Daniel Whittle Harvey, a radical if not rabidly so MP who used his paper as a soapbox for his views and policies – something that of course could never happen today. The inaugural editorial of October 20 1822 evoked nostalgia for a time: “When the press was free and honest,” a nostalgia some of us feel at times today. Harvey, MP for Colchester and later forSouthwark in fact spent a brief spell in prison for his newspaper having libelled the King, George IV, such was his personal quest for the truth. Poacher turned gamekeeper later in his career, when he became the first Commissioner of the City of London Police in 1839.

Ho Ho! The Sunday Times would definitely have started online today.

And what about Smokie-Readie Place, Salisbury Square? It has a big obelisk in the middle, dedicated to former Lord Mayor of London, Robert Waithman.

Waithman always tried to strive for reform without becoming too radical, which resulted in an unfortunate middle position, where the Whigs thought he was too radical and the Radicals considered him too much of a Whig. And his background led to accusations of trying to use politics for his personal gain which he vehemently denied. His concern was the fairer distribution of power and wealth between the classes.(4)While some may claim he was just an upstart shopkeeper, he, although not always successful, did much to reform the political landscape in favour of the ordinary man in the street.

I had stopped at Smokie-Readie place on the way into work, for a cigarette and to capture the likeness on the boss…

Shield of Arms on Boss

…and used the big ashtray provided, but I didn’t sit down…

Smokie Readie Sleepy Place

someone else needed the bench more than me.

*Oh you’re back are you? Don’t give me that cuteness; I’m not going through it all again, just for you. You’ll have to do what everybody else does, Clicky, and read it for yourself …/rude tongue poke*

“There’s a moose loose about your hoose?”

*What’s that you’ve got there, Click?*

Diary amended

*I wrote that to Hugo last year. Actually it was ‘Queen of the Field Mice‘, Clicky, the role that I played…*

Hugo posts Pluto Deep Dreaming

*Click, the conversations we’re having on Merovee at the moment about the media and the State of the Whirled are quite… liberating…*

*Deep dreaming and deep thought, my friend… Hey Clicky, mice! …/slaps forehead*

Mice are merely the protrusion into our dimension of hyper-intelligent pan-dimensional beings who, unbeknownst to the human race, are the most intelligent species on the planet Earth. They spent a lot of their time in laboratories running complex experiments on humans. They paid Magrathea for the planet and will now collaborate to create a new one due to the interruption of Vogons,

At the outset, they were so fed up with the constant bickering about the meaning of life which used to interrupt their favorite game, Brockian Ultra Cricket, that they decided to sit down and solve their problems once and for all.

They were the creators of Deep Thought, a stupendous super computer the size of a small city, to tell them the Answer to Life, The Universe and Everything. When seven and a half million years later it was realized they didn’t know the question to the answer they’d been given, a second computer, of such infinite and subtle complexity that life itself would form part of its operational matrix, was created to work out the Ultimate Question. That computer was known as theEarth.

Some notable mice in the series are Frankie and Benjy

*Excellent! Clicky the dolphin mouse… I must go tell Hugo, perhaps it will give him some forty-two’d… /titters*

*Oh pooh to you! You’re just jealous somebody came up with that pun before you. Look, Dumey may pop over later. If I’m still out…*

*Oh my, you found a dolphin mouse, how sweet. Yes, show it to Dumey, it’ll very likely bring him out in hives… Don’t wait up!*

Banana* and Bull**… Oh Bugger, not a Drunken Shambles?!

*It’s 1834h Clicky, two quick shots in. How many will it take..? Not too many I hope, don’t want to make a complete fool of myself… /rolls eyes*…

OMG Hugo is back! This is huge. I hadn’t fully realised how much I missed him until I saw him standing there

The Unexpected Return of Hugo

Hugo introduced me to Marshall McLuhan…

*50 Years, Clicky! That 2027, he reckoned we’d discover the real effect in 12 years time. I hope I live that long, that would make me 70…*

To cut an infinite long story short, listen to this. Just turn off the rest of the world and spend a measly 42 mins of your finite life and go ‘old school’. Just listen

*1935h One shot and one rollie later… Tell me Clicky, do you have porpoise in your life? …/snigger*

*Very droll… Here’s comes the bugger; I’ve lost my train of thought. Let’s start another…*

Be back in a click. Have a song…

If you really must know…

Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting…

… and dancing 😉

The first three episodes of Star Wars, as recommended by Library Assistant Kit Bisto. He’s taken to drawing on his arm; he calls it his ‘Tatooine’.

Tatooine

*I know, Clicky, funny, artistic and practical… a tattoo that’s easy to wash off for a new design the next day…*

*I don’t know about you Clicky, but that’s a much more plausable reason for Anakin embracing the Dark Side… it was his hormones!*

Three major motion pictures crammed into a hour. Time left for a Song…

Let’s Play …

Let's Play

I had just finished watching a fascinating (and gripping) battle between 40 BARRS and C-ASH in QOTR, when Kit Bisto sauntered into the Library. “Guess who I am.”

I eyed him carefully; he eyed me back through ragged slits for eyes. My young assistant is fond of dressing up and playing the “Who am I?” game. This time he was wearing my Russian hat, a gift from a trip abroad and the cut off leg from some trackie bottoms.  “I don’t know, some sort of Russian terrorist?”.

“No. Do you want a clue?” He picked up my packet of cigarettes, another gift from abroad.

£3.78

“Some sort of dictator?” He pointed to what I think was his nose, I was getting warmer. He turned the packet round and ran his finger along the brand name.

Gift from Abroad

*Clicky, Did you know, there were 20 cigarettes in that pack, compared to just 18 in a pack bought in the UK?*

“Sterling?”. It took me a couple of seconds to catch on…

*Aww Clicky… chosen for our friend Joe Public? He does like our posts…*

Kitten cocked his finger and thumb into a makeshift gun and took aim. “Boom!”. He flourished a pack of cards, apparently well hidden up his sleeve. “Want to play Blackjack?”.

I really should know better by now than to play games with boy that will not be beat

*Thanks for the song, Clicky, there was quite a bit of ‘hit me’… /rolls eyes*

Fun and Games

 

colourscope

*Lovely colourful gif, Click …*

“It’s Fathers Day. Why am I doing all the heavy lifting?” Thoughtful Man harrumphed as he dropped the heavy box on the floor.

“Hmm…?” I was trying to take a picture of Assistant Loopy’s latest addition to the Library walls and so, let’s be honest about it, not giving him my full attention.

It's a sign

“No lie-in. No breakfast in bed…”, he looked at me coolly. “No present and no card”.

I moved closer to rub his shoulders. “You said Fathers Day is a made up day by card manufacturers to make money.” I found a knot and dug in. “In fact ‘fake card days’ is one of your favourite moans”.

“It is”. He groaned under the pressure of my needling knuckles.

“Well, the boys and I took your message to heart and decided to ignore it. Fathers Day, that is. What’s in the box?”. I kissed the back of his neck and peered over his shoulder. “That looks like your old video games”.

He reached in and pulled out a handful of plastic cases. “‘Final Fantasy‘. I love those games”.

“I know you do.” Now it was my turn to groan. Unlike Thoughtful Man, I kept it inside. “We’ve still got the console, why don’t you play one later?”.

“I think I will”. He delved deeper into the box.

“Good. I have plenty to be getting on with.” I moved away, “Breakfast?”.

“Hmm?”

“Happy Fathers Day, sweetie. Have a Song”.