Floating Tittle-tattle. We all live, knowingly or otherwise, entangled in a maze, a cat’s cradle of lies, virtual realities, fake news, vapid fairy tales and mutually contradicting, periodically shifting party lines. It might come as a surprise to some to know that not all -not even all that many by a long long chalk- of these bogus premises blow in from the so-called Axis of Evil but actually suppurate from the self-styled Free World, which is the true progenitor, developer and main spreader of that most insidiously sophisticated and useful of tools of manipulation and control of the masses, contemporary Propaganda. Which recently has reached truly hysterical levels of efficiency. One day The Orthodoxy (and its indentured minions) says one thing; the next day it says the opposite; and the day after that it shifts once more, perhaps with an ever so slight variation, so that the flock will think it really different and even new. Thus the Governance by Idiots, or Idiocracy, perpetuates itself, assisted by a herd ever anxious to be led and told what to do (anything-for-a-quiet-life! free of the precarious labours of independent thought). Only the Floaters (& Co.) know what’s what but they are very small, very few and their voices very faint amidst the shrill din and clash of all the tales told by idiots, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. I like the Floaters. They take me with them in their frequent sorties and they tell me things. Have a splendiferous week.
Open Ends. A very merry Solstice to you all, in spite of the possibilities of having a really jolly one being rather slim. Stay stubborn. Stay sane. Dance for as long as you have legs to dance with.
Acknowledgment of Senior Moment. 22/09/21 This goes well beyond a mere “senior moment” and accelerates very hard from plain embarrassment to utter bewilderment. The worse is that I remained unaware of this fuck up for the whole of three days. Exhaustively checking my temporal sub-routines -which have bee somewhat maladjusted, lately- and doggedly backtracking the course of circs that led to it. (I suspect the clocks going back next week has played a not insignificant role in this gaffe) Nearly there although I won’t bore you with the results. All that remains is to say, like the Mi-Go would, is ‘Mozt zinzere apologiez, folkz. Ignore the zilly capzion and have a zpoinditiouz weekend”. Do. And be lenient with gross absent-mindedness.
Idle Chitchat. The disintegration of the social fabric via condemnation of dissent continues apace. You can hardly open your mouth to express the mildest of objections to the official party line without getting the spontaneous irregular armies of the self-appointed reps of law, order and orthodoxy jump on you like the wrath of God. You get insulted, publically humiliated, demonized, ostracized and if at all possible battered to a pulp. So if what you want is a quiet life at all & any cost, just keep shtum, nod politely to any dribble that the sheep gibber at you and, if things get too unbearable, get yourself some ear plugs. It takes guts to be a goat… Have a maaaaarvelous week.
Evolution 8. Some more silly shenanigans for the weekend. Have a lovely one.
PS. And now you can see why Orcas sometimes curl their dorsal fin in such a funny manner. In memoriam of a remote ancestral whim.
Alegrías. If this is for anyone is for Conchita Piquer, who sang a song -about a lad with green eyes- so risqué, for that time and place, that it was either banned outright or had the lyrics changed to a respectable (if not less soppy) version. I love Conchita. And lads with green eyes, if they are of the nice variety. And small monsters, that goes without saying. Have a fab week.