THERE’S WRITING

THERE’S

REAL WRITING

and

there’s this, bullshit-less REAL writing— down there

CLICK HERE

—written in a way I’m very grateful I can’t. I just hope the comment I left there won’t be misinterpreted …

Kismet

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CREDIT WHERE

IT’S DUE—

A humble salute to someone whose works I’d often seen and enjoyed without ever pondering the source—

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—I admire those who pop the bubbles of the self-aggrandising and pompous whilst duly crediting those who earn the credit. This world is an emptier place for him having left it.

(Image above hijacke  borrowed with thanks from CLICK HERE and thanks also to GP for bringing the works once more to the fore.)

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A CHILDLIKE FORAY

into Wikipedia.

Screen Shot 2019-03-01 at 08.41.46Grateful thanks to GP for (as always) leading me into the unknown territories of familiar names:  CLICK HERE 

I’D HEARD THE NAME

(awwww, c’mon … who hasn’t?)—and needed to pad out the bones:

Child was a favorite of audiences from the moment of her television debut on public television in 1963, and she was a familiar part of American culture and the subject of numerous references, including numerous parodies in television and radio programs and skits. Her great success on air may have been tied to her refreshingly pragmatic approach to the genre, “I think you have to decide who your audience is. If you don’t pick your audience, you’re lost because you’re not really talking to anybody. My audience is people who like to cook, who want to really learn how to do it.”

—so I burgled Wikipedia ‘cos I was intrigued.

We live and learn (perhaps mostly if not entirely) thanks to folks who quietly get on with making a go of things. Salutations where due—

—and as it’s breakfast time here I’m off to murder an omelette*.

And a bucket of coffee …

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* Literally. My omelettes are to die from.

GEORGE WASHINGTON

dragonwas quoted in my readings

as saying that he didn’t shake hands

… as it was beneath the dignity of his office (president, you see).

OAKAAAAYYYY, SO

what might ol’ George (who cheerfully wore a pinny and happily shook hands when he deemed it apt) (I suppose in a personal sense?) have thought or said about the dignity of that same office nowadays—?

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“Here’s Hi Fives to ya, George baby! Boom boom!”

 

Yes, well …

… moving on …

… I did read (at one time) that it was impossible to fall off of a Segway—but didn’t some other dignified US President manage it? (Not easy to trump that card … but he’s working on it.)

dodododododododododododododo

THE LORD TOLD ME,

devil-29973__340 copysayeth the American (where else?) televangelist “I needed a fourth jet.”

I’d give you the source of the news article that jangled the cash in my pockets but it’s a print article in a recent NZ newspaper. Don’t fret, just google the headline as it appeared—

“The Lord told me I needed a fourth jet, televangelist insists”

—and you too may find enlightenment. But wait, read now and it gets even better (just be careful what you read about)—

__________________________________________________________

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__________________________________________________________

—and it gets even better when the nice, honest, sincere, God-fearing man further explai  justifies himself—

“Now people say . . . can’t you go with this one?” he said, pointing to a picture of the plane he uses. “Yes, but I can’t go it one-stop. And if I can do it one stop, I can fly it for a lot cheaper, because I have my own fuel farm. And that’s what’s been a blessing of the Lord.”

—don’t ask me. I have no idea what a ‘fuel farm’ is (but I guarantee they don’t come cheap*).

Bugbear big

“Hey, you! Yeah you, Bub! Yer name Argus?”

Oops …

Brrr. Moving on, perhaps you, too, could ask The Lord for one of these blessings—

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—and until ya try ya never knows ya luck.

Sufficient unto the day is the televangelising thereof so I’ll leave you with this thought—

click here right copy             Dodo

 

WHEN I WAS

BUT A MERE PUP

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‘Valentine’s Day’ in New Zealand, wasn’t. Sure, we’d heard vaguely about the Yanks and how they ‘hearts & flowers’ and stuff all over the place—quaint, as many American customs undoubtedly are*, but not us.

TIMES CHANGE

and from this morning’s New Zealand Herald, this—

Valentine’s Day is a multi-billion dollar global industry driven by obligatory buying.

The US spent more than $24 billion on the annual day of love last year, while spending in the UK is estimated to have been at around $1.9 billion.

In New Zealand, figures from Mastercard last year showed that Kiwi men expected to spend an average of $157 and women $103.

Research from AMP Capital Shopping Centres (AMPCSC) released this year suggests that higher spending among men might be because they feel greater pressure to impress their significant others.

—o tempora, o mores!

O poop …

But don’t knock it—it helps the wheels of commerce turn, and of course the gummint skims taxes off every chocolate, heart, and/or flower sold. Win-win all ’round, no?

Now … I dare say we should lay in a stock of bonfire wood for the fourth of July … and book a turkey for Thanksgiving, later. I’d Googleise the dates but even they are into it:

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—but you’d have to go there. I couldn’t copy/paste it as a functioning link. (Well worth the effort though, cute~!)

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Big G, bigger

“You pickin’ on my saints again, Dog? Tread carefully, Mutt!”

Brrrrr …

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*  And we’ve also imported Halloween. When I was a kid ‘punkins’ were for cattle food, or occasionally for dinner …

ON TIME, IN

FULL? Screen Shot 2018-02-11 at 17.29.11.png

“Time,” the Sage tells me morosely, “is the medium of change.” And he should know, time has certainly changed him. I remember when he was but a pup (as it were) and now I keep tripping over his blasted beard. Honestly, some wise men … (he knows his onions though).

I discovered a couple of hours ago that one of my all-time heroes passed away a few days back.

Just another nutter. No-one will miss him … he’s the guy who had an idea, got it checked out by a fully credentialed geologist who apparently was unanimously backed up by an entire conference (which alone should have wiped the smirk of the face of a few other experts) but I won’t tell if you don’t—

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—and nothing is more predictable than the reaction of the experts to some of the stuff put forward by the late Mr J. A.West.

NOT THAT IT MATTERS

a damn anyway. I mean, who gives a hoot if the great Sphinx of Giza is a few thousand more years (ten, anybody?) older than we were taught pounded with at school? So?

SO MOVING ON

take a wee look at the NY World’s Fair of 1964. Sadly I’ve long since lost the 8mm movies and snaps I shot at the time but thanks to the miracle of modern science I pulled these in off the WWW—

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(Oh, wow~!)

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Vitality, anybody? Pizazz?

Hah! You should have seen the wee robots wandering about telling everyone the time …

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I REMEMBER IT

as being America at its best. Vital, optimistic, unashamedly brash, and very talented without fear of showing so. Superlatives abounded—

—and when Spouse and I went back recently, in time for the Millennium, our host drove me out to the site.

It was a bit further away than expected.

We got there pretty much at sunset; daylight fading almost as fast as memories. We were the only souls abroad, no sign of nobody nowhere—which suited my mood perfectly.

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Time has certainly done his work here. There. Everywhere …

Bastard …

… but that’s just the way of it. Without the use of maths and/or science (okay, possibly just a little) I’ve developed my own ideas on time and space which I shan’t spout here lest alarmed people track me down and send hordes of nice men in white coats around to my house.

But at least I have the comfort of knowing that one John Anthony West (deceased) might have approved …

*         *         *

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dodododo               dodo