NEO-HERACLITUS_____________Qweir Notionsin the arsehole of Diogenes:weBlog of a septuagenarian Binge-thinker sinceFebruary 2008. ............................................................................................... ........................................................................................................... ........................................................................................... ........................................................................................................................................
claimed that the foreskin of Jesus
'materialised' in their mouths -
like old rubber bands, perhaps,
or with the texture of a pre-latex condom -
but what did they do with it ? [insert answer here]......................................
- and at least one Italian church
has a relic of St Joseph's Breath...
is as ridiculous an idea as Heaven
yet, like them, is what our civilisation is based on.
In an infinite hotel
which is fully (infinitely) booked
there is an infinite number of vacant rooms
- or so I'm told.
This sounds like sophistry
of the most outrageous, religious kind.
(My dog, Asterix, however, who had seven years of irregular under-feeding, when he spent his days in a cage, and his nights alone in spooky warehouse dark, tells me that he understands infinity - because it is located in his belly...)
appeals to two opposed categories of human beings:
those who cannot imagine that their self-importance is temporary,
and those whose life is so wretched that their only consolation
is that a life-to-come might be a compensation.
to emotional independence
is by avoiding peer pressure.
This is especially difficult
if you're a parent, so if you want
to be emotionally independent
it is necessary to avoid peer pressure
by not being a parent.
In 1979 (aged 27) I was living with my German Sheepdog
as a part-time gardener on the 9,000 acre estate
of the Earl of Caledon, on the Irish Border.
I had read Jean Genet and Dostoyevsky,
but I don't think I knew anything about cocaine
apart from Cocaine Blues and a 1920s blues
that I cannot locate, but has been re-interpreted
by Jackson Browne.
I guess this is typical of a white middle-class nerd!
their independence from England,
so most African-Americans don't have to work.
They can spend the day
celebrating each other
and commiserating with, maybe even praying for,
New England (especially Maryland)
was a penal colony.
Three-quarters of the population
had been shipped from the British Isles in chains.
After the Independence of the USA,
Australia became 'home' to Irish Republicans,
vagrants, blasphemers and stealers of beans.
(the year of the Prague Spring, Pražské jaro, Pražská jar)
one in every nine Canadians was an immigrant
or refugee - mostly draft-dodgers, drop-outs
and deserters from the USA.
In 1970 Canada was the world's largest exporter
There is no connection.
The "vibrant" Czech small-arms industry
is based in Brno, called Brünn
in the anti-nationalist Austro-Hungarian Empire.
exterminated these fine specimens, too.
(WVs always eliminate the toughest,
always want to bring down the alpha-males
whether lions, tigers or superior people.)
If it is warm enough (in summer, anyway) to live without clothes
on Tierra del Fuego,
not so far from Antarctica,
why are we forced and brainwashed to do so ?
For two reasons:
1. The nasty genital-obsessed Abrahamic religions which have taken over the world.
2. Without the huge areas of land devoted to growing cotton
and the huge factories devoted to processing it
and the huge factories devoted to fashioning it
and the millions of underpaid workers involved in all this
our nasty and criminally-wasteful capitalist system would collapse.
I have read perhaps 500 novels
and, although I understand people
better than I otherwise would have,
I am no better at coping with them
(and my own shortcomings)
than if I had not read a single one.
is that it is obsessed with labour (hence The British Labour Party), production, and consumption. Thus it inevitably supports the exploitation of 'resources', whether human or non-human in as crass a way as capitalism.
are too brainwashed to understand
that what 'Islamists' object to
is less our sham democracy
and aggressively-consumerist 'way-of-life'
and more our multi-level
hypocrisy, which universal curse
of civilisation they want to replace
with their own - apparently even worse.
"If you choose to Reset Edge by deleting the whole Edge User environment
and run the PowerShell reregister commandlet to recreate a clean user environment,
Windows will automagically restore/repopulate the RoamingState folder for you
with data from the cloud."
Would The Deceased
whether you're there
or not ?
If the answer's No -
(unless you want to
sing the silly hymns and see the coffin,
the other Mourners, or the Graveyard Plot).
If the answer's Yes -
don't go under the dead's duress.
If I look Noble and Eager
perhaps he'll take me out.
If I look Sad and Pathetic
perhaps he'll take me out.
If I growl and bite him
perhaps he'll throw me out.
Where will I go ?
What will I eat ?
I love him so...
"Terrorist Outrages" are,
in a typically human, perverted way,
quite intelligent, 'strategically-sound' -
because they re-foment the mindless humbug
which gave rise to the terrorism in the first place,
thus re-inforcing the vicious circle of alpha-male activity
which makes our nasty little human world 'go round'.
wrote the Jewish philosopher Martin Buber,
"is not between East and West,
or Capitalism and Communism,
but between Education and Propaganda."
Unfortunately, there is no firm dividing-line
between any of these alleged opposites,
least of all between Education and Propaganda.
the plants seen today in flower
during a brief walk with Astérix on a limestone plateau.
They include Viper's Bugloss (Vipérine) Milkwort Broomrape Convolvulus Scabious Helianthemum Rock Spurge Birdsfoot Trefoil Not-quite-Meadowsweet (which smells like Meadowsweet) Rock Pink (carnation_ Rock Geranium Spanish Broom a kind of Privet and a couple which I could not even guess...
And here is His Holy Sniffiness in a riverside meadow a week earlier.
depress me ! Example: Robert Frost, a Grand Old White Man (but not fit to slather Whitman's arse) whose smugness was unequalled. No wonder that the puerile Allen Ginsberg usurped him briefly in the 1960s! "The road not taken" is so crass, "The Gift Outright" so nauseatingly offensive that I think that Robert Frost kiboshed American poetry - as TS Eliot garotted poetry in England with his profoundly superficial Four Quartets.
consciousness is simply hubris.
it is just the addled, ill and composite illusion
of the brain's trillions of connections
that they form one whole - and unique - self.
So human consciousness resists
its own invented sense of reason
in a desperate attempt
to prove unto itself that it actually exists.
is that they are wordless
and have no beginning or end
except for the changeable
and are not static, but phatic,
and, though fading and flaking,
are as timeless as graveyards.
Paintings don't run out of words.
is that it is an expensive and easily-corrupted method
of giving The Vote to far worse people than mere litter-louts,
tax-fraudsters and sugar-refiners. The most sensible solution for Representative Government would be parliamentarians selected by
lot. It would cost almost nothing, there
would be no crap about The Will of The People, and the resulting random
selection would not be worse than what we have got.Parties could then be abolished, too.What bliss ! Perhaps one or two dogs could be
co-opted into parliament for occasional stroking and reality-check.
of European 'Christians'
is contained in this talentless but revealing
(if not revelling) hymn:
The Son of God goes forth to war A kingly crown to gain: His blood-red banner streams afar; Who follows in His train ? Who best can drink His cup of woe, Triumphant over pain, Who patient bears His Cross below He follows in His train.
but himself he cannot save!" Precisely.
Because he knew the human self
is worth no more, no less,
than water in a wave ?
and not without defect
he was like the best of us,
I guess, in that respect.
No mammal is weaker than the human, hence technology. Whereas all other predators prey upon the very young, or very old, or sick: the weak, the modern human prides himself
on preying on the strong - especially impressive males. Man is a freak.
coming and going
rushing and crushing
crammed with stories
that they believe
that they want to believe
that others have made them believe
inside the rinds
of their skulls
until they escape
ever more minds.
999 is the emergency number in the UK and Ireland
and the number of names of holy Astérix,
As the Terrible, Cuddly, Importunate
Rug of the Future
The We of Me
The You of Us
Jack the Ripper
There are just two kinds of religion:
the old and the less-old.
The less-old are religions of belief
while the old are religions of practice
(all others, including Judaism).
This difference has created modern history
through colonialism which has made Jesus
the Antichrist, and Mohamed
[God] just sit up there glorying in being deef, I reckon.
The last thing niggers want to think about they God is that his hair is kinky.
I have never understood why coloured people took and take so enthusiastically to a joyless white (and joyless white men's. tight-lipped white women's) god. Is it 'just' self-oppression ? Or Stockholm Syndrome ? Or both ?
"Man is the most vicious of all animals, and life is a series of battles ending in victory or defeat. You just can't let people make a sucker out of you."
What a pathetic statement!
The first eight words are incontrovertible,
but Mr Trump in his (continuing) naivety
seemed to be unaware of the delightful arts of subterfuge:
blending in with the surroundings, pretending to be "suckers" and hiding in the cracks,
as billions of us do, even the "vicious" tiger -
striped to merge with the forest shadows...
but a lot of good that has done it - because of the most vicious of animals.
I think the obviously-unfulfilled Trump is the sucker!
"I chaste a flokk of guses this mourning.
They flue up in the ayr and honked.
I luvd it.
I chaste a kat.
It wuz grait.
I chaste anuther kat.
Whair doe al the kats kum from ? Thair ar far 2 menny.
Old ladys leeve kruntchees out for strey wuns.
I eet the katz kruntchees.
Mebbe thail dy.
I stoal kreem from the kreemjug.
Ime a grate fello.
Boss luvs me.
the Political Poster Board has to be cleared from the last election.
France is so civilised that the fly-posting of political posters is illegal.
Each commune or village has its board, on which all the candidates are pictured
together with their banal slogan.
There is no (USA, Philippines, India-style) television-advertising, either.
My prediction is that Marine le Pen will win, thus upsetting the smug apple-cart
of Western Liberal Values in Europe, and threatening the fake cohesion
of the European Union - of which, I should say, I am an absurdly-keen supporter.
There is much mention by orientalist new-agers and quasi-mystics
about 'clearing your mind' and 'stopping the inner dialogue' through meditation. It could be argued that the problems of the world are caused by lack of inner dialogue,
encouraged by the narrow single-mindedness (or indeed mindlessness) of politics and education.
Evil comes from deliberate suppression of thought acting through the thoughtless,
and the banality of evil is sheer human reproductiveness.
but whether this is a result of civilisation
or its origin is difficult to judge. It seems to me
that the function of civilisation is to protect
the powerful, "the élites" from randomness
by persuading or forcing, through famine
(which rarely occurs outside civilisation),
the less assertive to be human shields,
and making them believe that their sacrifice
is for the Common Good.
is the inability
to live with our endemic
*** We apologise to our thousands of readers for an absence of blog for the last two days. This was due to circumstances beyond our control, such as old age, innumeracy, the mild weather, a missing calendar, and the inscrutable but incontrovertible plan of the Great God Astérix.
I've decided on
a new hobby Gardening. Me and my owner were very busy last week with clearing
up the rough ground in the orchard, i.e ivy (which had fallen down during storm
'Doris') and digging up a lot of nettle roots etc. Then we were transplanting
some of the plants that were getting waterlogged in the lawn to the newly
created space. I was sniffing out good spots for where to put the plants and
was very busy directing the wheelbarrow to my chosen places. I think we have
done a pretty good job and maybe I'll consider a new career in Canine Gardening (the only thing is all the muck, it makes my paws sooo dirty!) But it is not so exciting as catching a ball or a Frisbee.
My ears stood up too
when I was a puppy. I was very embarrassed when I looked at myself and thought
I will never look like a Border Collie. But then bit by bit they dropped down and I
was very relieved. Your ears are how they should be and are very lovely.
The weather has
been up and down, one day Spring and next day winter. We even had a bit of
sleet this morning. Well, it is the last day of Winter, so hopefully Spring
will be arriving tomorrow.
Hope you two are
well and look after each other -
Hundefreund Rocky and mein Frauchen und Herrchen
Hundefreunde Rokki und Frauchenli + Herrchenli,
Chers ami canin Roqui et ses Parrains (ou parents ?humans should give birth to more dogs)
It seems I
have been speaking the wrong language.I
am told that I am definitely a Mechelse Herder van Vlaanderen en ijk spreke
vlaamse.C’est à dire un chien Berger
Malinois (Malines=Mechelen, a town south of Antwerpen/Anvers).
I was very
impressed by your ears when you were young.They look even better than mine – perhaps.(Thanks for the compliment.I like compliments.Don’t you admire my tail ?Maybe one of your
ancestors came from Belgium or Germany ?Maybe they are Prussian Ears, very straight and upright and pointed J
On Saturday I
went to the Veterinary Clinic about 10 km away and I met a lovely woman called
Huguette.She is Belgian (Walloon) and
she can read books in French, Dutch, German and English, because I saw them on
her bookshelf.She radiates love.My Driver fell in love with her. Apparently everyone is in love with her.She gave me nice tasty meaty-sweeties because
I am such a beautiful and good dog.I
have been limping, and she says I may have Arthritis in my right shoulder. I have been taking Metacam (hidden in lumps of
meat, though I’m not supposed to know that), but I am still limping.I go back tomorrow and may get X-Rayed.I was nearly an hour with Huguette (who
specialises in dogs and pigs – Frau Schweinundhunddoktor ? ; her Dutch partner
specialises in funless cats, and an English man specialises in horses and
donkeys and big creatures like that) while she weighed me (I am 28 kg, almost
half the weight of my Driver and Valet) and examined my gorgeous fur.
My turds are
now firmer and not so wet.I chased a
hen and it died.Its name was Dolly.
I too have
been helping with gardening.My Dogsbody
(Faktotum – this is Latin, you know) and
I dug a hole and he put a plant in it at our Guerrilla Garden just 100 metres
away.I found a dog-turd under one of
the plants. I have met a lot of dogs lately, all of them much quieter than
those at the Shelter.There was a very
nice lady dog I met this morning who fancied me.Perhaps she likes male dogs with Very Small
Testicles.(Eierchen ? Schrumpelklöten
?) (On the other hand I have a nice, large furry willy (Piller, Piepel, Pillermann,
Zipfel, Lümmel, Schniedelwutz - nicht nolens
volens which is Latin, you know –
I am a Highly-Educated Dog and read about Odysseus and Argus and Cerberus and Anubis - amongst others - in my
ample spare time) which all the lady dogs and humans can admire.)Sorry about all the brackets – I hope they
don’t confuse a poor Border Collie with Prussian ancestry.
I have to
confess that I am as Scaredy as you.I
don’t like anything tubular (walking-stick, kitchen-roll core) nor do I like
big plastic bags or frying-pans. I am
also scared of friendly bearded gentlemen if they approach me.I wonder if they are really friendly, and don’t
want to take any risks.Women with big
handbags are dangerous, too.
thought Spring might be arriving.There
are violets everywhere.But today there
was rain, and there will be rain tomorrow. My Dogsbody is pleased because he says there
hasn’t been enough rain this winter.I
believe that some dogs are Scared of rain,
but I don’t mind it.I am a brave
dog.But Thunder is a terrible thing and I have to hide under the table.Life is full of dangers even when One is
Protected by an aged Bearded Factotum – one who does not give me enough food.
(I can’t remember when I last ate anything.His mind is probably away somewhere else hunting kittens or rabbits or
even oliphaunts – but not for me!I am
told that dogs are very good for Old Humans with wandering minds, but I have no
intention of becoming a Faktotum.)
Here is a
picture of me waiting patiently for my dinner…or for a kitten to come and be
multilingual and Very Brave Vlaamse Freund - with Erect Ears,
Some years ago I decided
that if I had not killed myself by the age
of three-score years and ten,
I would do so when
I turned 75.
But now that life has become
so enjoyable, and ever more
surreal and funny
in this horribly mad world wherein I hide
(Caylus is so often sunny!),
I seem to have lost my sane desire for suicide.
there was this rich bitch
thought she was a princess
and she couldn't get to sleep
on the big thick goose-feather
mattress that rich white folks had
in cold olden times. Her beautiful black
maid was set to find out why -
and discovered the bitch's pea-sized conscience
under the great fluffy heap.
Her servant had to swallow it
and turn into a beanstalk
so the bitch could get some sleep.
(who had no name
and was found in the département of the Tarn),
Kaspar Hauser and Peter of Hannover
were all speechless, nameless,
and uninterested in money or sex.
Which statistically-insignificant sample
leads me nevertheless to think that
civilisation might be about money and sex.
(But I am prejudiced.)