Euclid’s Chagrin. Series Old Wine in New Bottles No 2
This is a reworking, like No1, At The Lighthouse, of some ancient stuff I did on the elderly (but still functioning, look you!) Sonny Reader. I just fancied revisiting some of those doodles, authentic garabatos, done in the massively crude drawing tool wot came with it. The original was called Wrong Geometry! and had a wee po’m attached. This version could be also called A Shoggoth On The Roof, as a loving tribute to the wondrous spoof of Fiddler on the Roof that the incomparable H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society did a few years ago. There, that deep.
Old Stuff No. 2
Transitions
Solstice Shubby. Here she is, the one and only, the splendid, the ineffable Black Goat of the Woods With a Thousand Young -currently on holiday in the Plateau of Leng and hence not in the picture. She’s commanding us wretched souls to have a fab Solstice in spite of the all-pervading crap that’s engulfing us. Milady’s cortí¨ge think (but not say; not aloud anyways) that she is, indeed, glorious and incomparable and unutterable but she has no social graces whatsoever. I say nobody’s perfect. And she means well, I’m sure. Follow her advice and do try and have a great Transition. Things are very unlikely to get any better but at least Apollo is turning his chariot around and heading back our way. Any time now, snowdrops and wee buds. Menos da una piedra!
And un po’ di mu’ seasonal. (I know, I repeat myself. But I love this song and it’s not everyday that a couple of eccentric Scots write a song for me just to cheer me up.)
Stay sane, folks!
Gabfests
Birds of a Feather. Have a little sequel to this year’s Ash Memorial. This is what might (or might not) be going on in that splendiferous place that Ash’s particles might be kicking about right now (or not…). Gossip is rife there and often of the most frivolous kind you can imagine. Here you can see Julian and Sandy, the Shady Birdies, a disreputable pair as there ever was, updating the Mystic Tadpoles on the latest scandals, spurious rumours and bad jokes currently making the rounds in the final void. The tadpole on the right dreads what’s coming, for Sandy’s jokes are truly, magnificently and crisply outrageous.
Memorials
Ash’s 8th. I’ve changed my mind and decided to do yet another Ash Memorial.
I still can see him as he was the last time we met, there, standing in my kitchen, arms waving, eyes ablaze, ranting like it was going out of fashion about the absolute need of this wretched country to acquire a constitution. Also the even more urgent necessity to clear out the English language (or any other language, for that matter) of jargon of any kind: legalese, psychobabble, poliflummery, pseudo-science bunk and other though-terminating linguistic evils.
I would entirely agree with him on the language thing but I though he was being naive on the first point and I would remind him of all those countries that have constitutions and are still a fucking mess and/or a pain in the gluteus maximus, like the good old USA and Australia. He was undeterred by this last argument, for as well as a master-ranter he was as stubborn as a mule; now and then he would even out-rant me. But we never quarrelled and we always had such fun rearranging the world. Ah well! sic transit gloria us puny humans. And everything else.
I hope his sub-atomic particles are having fun, still and forever, somewhere spiffing, where constitutions are not needed and paranoid empires are unknown and cant is regarded a mere joke, something to pass the time in between oscillations.
Cycles
At The Lighthouse. Here’s a little something, a wee pre-Solstice snack to cheat this gut-wrenching hunger for light we feel. Have a grand week if at all possible. Stay sane.
Gypsy Prince
Spiny Forest. The Barbed Borderlands is a strange, dour region. Exceedingly fertile and therefore half impenetrable, its forests tend to bring forth minimalist types of tree and shrubs, all branch, no flowers. To this austere place the tiny One-Eyed Itinerant Babbler has come to try and induce said stern trees to let their hair down and be merry; nay, even frivolous! So far his efforts have met with a small degree of success: two of the severe woody thingummybobs have sprouted flowers.
The little birdies are charmed by the youngster. In their collective bird-brained memory lingers the image of a long, long gone Italian geezer who used to talk to their kin on regular basis and once persuaded a wolf to go vegetarian for a while. (The experiment didn’t last owing to the crappy attitude of the local humans who, as usual, mistook grace and goodwill for weakness.)
Us, too, is charmed by the wee chatterbox and us hopes that he’ll soooooon come amongst we the masses and convince everybody that life might be like a chicken coop ladder, short and full of shit, but that a) that’s no reason to pout and b) beauty and love still matter. Now more than ever.
Small Beings, Big Truths
Winged Grub. aka The Grub’s Lament. Once more, let the little ones tell you a thing or two about cooperation, connections and survival. Stay sane.
Small Good News
Cummings Is Goings. aka Cumming a cropper. I’m still pinching myself in utter disbelief but there you have it. He’s gone. Ding dong the beast is dead! Nice. Get the vodka out of the freezer and animate the will to fight. Still, do keep an eye on Her Indoors, the Symonds creature. Anyone willing to shag Boris Johnson to the point of actually breeding with him is not to be trusted. Eyes peeled, comrades.
Remember Remember
Amnesia Sunday. aka Lest We Wake Up ! and remember (if we ever knew) the real phoney reasons and mendacious justifications for that most wasteful, unnecessary and criminal of wars. Let the sentimentality and the cheesiness lull you into a sense of saccharine virtue and snug ignorance. Above all, do NOT connect this kind of events with what’s going on in the factual world outside them; and please do not notice that the show was barely on the road when one of our top brasses was already trying to boyscout the nation into being prepared for WWIII owing to the Chinese Virus and Putin’s interference.
This year I’ll refrain form quoting Wilfred Owen in full for the Nth time. Just this: that dulce et decorum est pro patria mori only as long as the moring is being done by you and your children and not by Them and Their children -and even those don’t take survival precedence over Them Themselves; remember Abraham.
PS. If you thought that these yearly rants are indication that I don’t care for those poor buggers who died in that war, and all the other stupid wars of empire bickering, who died only to fertilize the ground for the next conflict, think again. I do care. Deeply and incandescently. It also scares the living shits out of me that that generation bough, lock, stock and stinking barrel, the lies, the propaganda and the mis/disinformation fed them by their elders; just as the troops sent to kill, rape and main in Iraq believed that Saddam has tons of WMD because The Blair Witch and the Guardian said so. Bumba alone knows what this generation will buy. 🙁
Have a spiffing week.
Apocalypso Now
Phantom Fireflies. One of these days a Dies irae the size of a small moon is going to fall on our heads like a sodding ton of bricks. And then both the black sheep and the black-sheep-shooters will run around in panic and despair and there’ll be much gnashing of teeth, although not for long, for the end will be very, very painful but quick.
And all the while, the Meat Puppets in No. 10 and its peripheral add-ons are having a laugh and just going with the flow, or, as they call it, “the scientists..
And the good WeThePeople wear their little mostly-useless masks and stay home after dark and buy stuff from Amazon. And in their plentiful spare time they indulge in whatever degree of witch-hunting they can and call the dissenters all sort of unpleasant names. Torches and pitchforks and public Auto-da-fés in Hyde Park next, I daresay.
Welcome to the New Subnormal (soon to be Sub-Human). Have a lovely rest-of-the-week. And un po’ di mu’. Long time no un po’ di mu’! 🙂
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Dies.irae.ogg
Te tengo ke ver llorar, descalcito por las calles primo, por lo ke tu me has hecho pasar.
Recent Comments
Archives
- April 2024
- March 2024
- February 2024
- January 2024
- December 2023
- November 2023
- October 2023
- September 2023
- July 2023
- June 2023
- May 2023
- April 2023
- March 2023
- February 2023
- January 2023
- December 2022
- November 2022
- October 2022
- September 2022
- August 2022
- July 2022
- June 2022
- May 2022
- April 2022
- March 2022
- February 2022
- January 2022
- December 2021
- November 2021
- October 2021
- September 2021
- August 2021
- July 2021
- June 2021
- May 2021
- April 2021
- March 2021
- February 2021
- January 2021
- December 2020
- November 2020
- October 2020
- September 2020
- August 2020
- July 2020
- June 2020
- May 2020
- April 2020
- March 2020
- February 2020
- January 2020
- December 2019
- November 2019
- October 2019
- September 2019
- August 2019
- July 2019
- June 2019
- May 2019
- April 2019
- February 2019
- January 2019
- December 2018
- November 2018
- October 2018
- September 2018
- August 2018
- July 2018
- June 2018
- May 2018
- April 2018
- March 2018
- February 2018
- January 2018
- December 2017
- November 2017
- October 2017
- September 2017
- August 2017
- July 2017
- June 2017
- May 2017
- April 2017
- March 2017
- February 2017
- January 2017
- December 2016
- November 2016
- October 2016
- September 2016
- August 2016
- July 2016
- June 2016
- May 2016
- April 2016
- March 2016
- February 2016
- January 2016
- December 2015
- October 2015
- September 2015
- August 2015
- July 2015
- June 2015
- May 2015
- April 2015
- March 2015
- February 2015
- January 2015
- December 2014
- November 2014
- October 2014
- September 2014
- August 2014
- July 2014
- May 2014
- April 2014
- March 2014
- January 2014
- December 2013
- September 2013
- August 2013
- June 2013
- April 2013
- February 2013
- December 2012
- October 2012
- September 2012
- July 2012
- June 2012
- May 2012
- March 2012
- February 2012
- December 2011
- October 2011
- August 2011
- June 2011
- February 2011
- January 2011
- November 2010
- September 2010
- July 2010
- June 2010
- May 2010
- March 2010
- February 2010
- January 2010
- December 2009
- November 2009
- September 2009
- August 2009
- July 2009
- June 2009
- May 2009
- March 2009
- February 2009
- January 2009
- December 2008
- November 2008
- October 2008
- September 2008
- August 2008
- July 2008
Categories