I have not been taking many snaps recently – the world has been unattractive and I really never feel like taking a photo. Nevertheless – I always have a wee camera in my pocket. So, in an effort to reinvigorate myself and to attempt to form a habit – some snaps taken while out walking with badger dog the last couple of days.
Links to two articles which added to my day. As opposed to the banality passing itself off as ‘content’ in the mainstream news media. There must be so little to investigate and report:
Sorry for chuckling.
I was remembering how we believed the rise of “Social Media” and the global reach of the internet would help bring the people of the world closer together.
A tale of Lemmings
The Human Lemmings – all excited and gathering truffles to take back to their piggy god-idols.
The fleshy, bald, pink masters – whom they all love so well – wolf down their truffle offerings and trample their adoring little lemming worshippers. An orgy of oinking and squealing and flatulence and fur and steaming blood.
And still they come – the euphoric little rodent flock – bringing more truffles to satisfy their masters. Some bring fermenting apples from the orchards. Others shave the fur from their tiny lemming bodies to become pink and emulate the stubbly, shiny, spotty gods they so admire.
“Oink” squeak some of the shitty-brown vermin disciples. “Oink oink”…
A cry rings out across the shires: “We did it for you piggy-lords. We did it all for you. We shat on our ancestors and we stabbed all who tried to stop us. We stabbed them right in the back! All for you, our beloved better-piggies. Love us for it, please love us!”
But their beloved piggy idols simply turned from them since it was time for brandy and cigars. They turned their backs to the squealing lemming masses and piled their opulent, stinking, squirty turds upon the ecstatic little rodent bodies. They did this, as was prophesied, so that the rich and worthy should always have a good sty to frolic around come the morning.
The lemming leaders looked around. They turned and spoke to the masses who had sacrificed so much. They raised their little heads and stretched their many chins to proclaim their message:
“Tomorrow they shall love us – it was always going to be tomorrow. They shall love us. Trust us!”
We are all aware of how well our recent history with Europe goes concerning “letters”. She has a piece of paper which will make it all better for everyone. Except for the vast numbers who don’t want it.
Maybe it is for the best. We were always the moaning, dull, latecomer to the party. Bitching about the food and the company. Like so many of the people voting for Brexit – taking part was purely a one-sided affair. The other side had to do all the dancing and the chatting while we stood with our buffet plate in the kitchen trying to find the sausage rolls and the little cocktail sticks with cheese and pickles. Always a little scared of admitting to liking the cocktail stick things – they seemed a little bit too “continental” and fancy.
Well the party is over and the alcohol is drunk. I hope there is not a hangover.
And nothing much has changed – we still live in the same neighbourhood and still keep the lawn tidy. Not going to be invited to any parties any longer, mind you. Isn’t that a blessing. Having to pretend to like anyone but ourselves was so boring.
Today I am feeling very grumpy.
The news is dominated by people running from terror in London and Trump running even faster from reality. It makes for dispiriting reading.
I get adverts from companies I use to store photos and videos which irritate me intensely. Do not try to kidnap the language. A slogan such as “Support Heroes” for people buying online photo storage is bullsh*t. We consume language and words and destroy meaning so easily these days. Not in any organic and creative way. Just to grab some shock value in an advertisement.
I spent five minutes trying to get some bandwidth to listen to the news and what did I get? Nigel ‘effin’ Farage. The lizard king of any public bar he can get into. On a morning when some humanity and a large amount of reassurance are badly needed – the news stations turn to a man intent on benefitting personally from division and hatred. His brand of “plain speaking” is designed entirely to stoke primitive fears of “others”. A man blessed with a decent brain, a good standard of living and the associated opportunity but chooses to spend his time trying to sow division and reap power. Disgusting man.
So I swore at him – from afar – and had a quick walk. Cold air, blue skies and people doing honest, early-morning labour. Refreshing.
A modern Cathedral offers wifi and a warm welcome.
I discover new words while studying my translation pack.
“Pew” – a word from my childhood collecting dust: “Banco de iglesias”.
I choose not to like this and the diminutive “banca”. I’ll pass.
Blanca was a beauty I knew long ago North of Madrid. A friend.
Too similar. As is Banco Santander. It’s not the word for me.
I consider that there must be an equivalent to pew.
Everyone else is now standing. As am I. I see
row upon row of people queueing at their bancas.
For all the progress the acoustics aren’t what they used to be.
Neither are the windows. Neither are we.
Perdona nuestras ofensas.