Well Met 1. By the shores of the beautiful Chromatic Lake, in the Valley of Glee, two rambling giant Worms have come across a small (but perfectly formed) haranguing creature, the Radiant Raving Goddess of Righteous Wrath. She haunts the region and its fringes ranting like it’s going out of fashion about this, that and anything else that catches her mood. Occasionally she also does custom diatribes. If you ask her nicely and you suggest a topic she’d really like to sink her teeth in, off she’ll go on a rabbity, rampant tirade that will make your eyeballs itch and peel the skin off your nose. She’s lovely, she is. The giant Worms are thinking of starting up a fan club. If they do, I’ll be its first member, I will.
PS. This here doodle is for Ash, a master ranter if ever there was one. Here’s looking at you, kid!

Napping. There once was an old lady who fell asleep on a peregrine asteroid. She was very, very tired and the transient boulder seemed very genial and very snug, so she squeezed her teddy bear tight, asked her floating minders to keep watch and she drifted into a blissful slumber. And lo! the Mother of All Wise Onions appeared to her in dreams and revealed to her the secrets of how to survive the all-pervading and exponentially increasing mental retardation that has been swamping and drowning world-wide politics ever since, oh, I don’t know… the Bronze Age?, or even before. I can’t wait for the groovy wandering rock to float my way so I, too, can have a mystic amaryllian dream.

Vermicelli. And so He’s off again and the days will start getting shorter and before we know (by mid September, I forecast*) They will start with the Silly Season consumerism barrage of things we should buy/do/believe/love/indulge in/whatever. Never mind. Have a lovely summer solstice and tell the small Italian Worms to stop worrying. He’ll be back soon enough. He always does.
*Did you know that in this our miserable Disunited Kingdom, we have a TV channel entirely devoted to Xmas films from September onwards? Really. I never knew that could be so many crappy films about a seasonal thingummybob that has hardly any meaning any more except for the mercantile aspect. Blimey!

Odd Thoughts. Yes, he has some very strange thoughts. Often verging on the heretical. And so us do, too. Join us.:-)

Obfuscation. And how much worse have things got since the little bastard said that, 20 years ago. And how much worse will they get! The New Realities, the New (Sub?)Normals, the New Norms -that change almost from one month to the next, the New Catechisms, the New Rights and the New Duties, the New Friends and the Newly minted Enemies… And the old, the very, very old song. The Siren’s Song that has a thousand masks and one single face. Like the famous Holywood chocolates: twelve flavours, one taste.
Have a splendid week…if you can.

Phantoms. Yes, they float indeed. Sometimes with great difficulty. But they persist. And so do we.