I Know Where You Live

And I’m going to visit you. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

You’ll never see me coming…because I’ll never phone ahead. You’ll hear the doorbell and open it and there I’ll be. And I’ll force my way in and sit down on the sofa.

From then on it’ll be a nightmare of horror. I’ll demand a cup of coffee, and biscuits. Good biscuits. And more than one. And a second cup of coffee.

I’ll want to use the toilet pretty often. And the bathroom. I don’t use guest towels – I use your bath towel. And I’ll be looking in your medicine cabinet, you bet.

Is this a bad time to call? Who cares? I’m here and social mores demand that you cope with it and smile. I know that and will press the visit as long as I can to maximise your discomfort. If it overlaps your meal time you are either going to have to go hungry, invite me to eat ( And I will…) or commit the social blunder of leaving me in the lounge room while you bolt your food. Be sure that everyone in our mutual acquaintance will know of this within hours.

Do you have pets? Expect them to either detest me or love me more than they love you. Whichever it turns out to be, you’ll be sorry. I’ll feed them greasy treats and you’ll be scrubbing the carpet later.

It’s no good hiding behind the sofa. Your car’s out front. You stay crouched behind there long enough and I’m going to get bored and write you a note. ” I called but you were out. ” is particularly poignant when it’s keyed into the duco.

Note: I can always leave something on the mat. Particularly after that bad taco I had for lunch.

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Have You Ever Slept With A Woman?

I’ve tried. With limited success.

When you are young you attempt this for a variety of reasons – the chief one being the period of time before you actually go to sleep. You hope to be busy. If you are lucky, both of you can occupy yourselves profitably in this period, and the less said about that the better. Mind you, if there is money involved in that profit, one of you is doing it wrong…

But after that period in your life, the time spent in bed – the bit where you actually go to sleep – can be increasingly difficult. If sleep is wanted, and needed, you require a few simple things; warmth in winter, coolness in summer, a reasonable silence, and lack of movement. As you get older, these become less likely.

Oh, you may be as much a problem as her, and the equation equal on both sides. I’ll leave you to decide who is the culprit. You may wish to set a night-vision camera in motion at dusk to record who steals the covers, thrashes around like a squid, or snorts like a Union Pacific Mallet locomotive going through Ogden. Then replay it to accuse each other. It will be concrete evidence but you’ll never convince the other party that they are guilty.

The chiefest conclusion that you can come to about adults sleeping together is that the old American sit-com TV shows with the parents sleeping in twin beds instead of a double were not as ludicrous as they seemed. They eliminated at least two factors in the blood-shot-eye battles – movement and covers. The noise of snoring, snorting, gurgling or moaning was still there. Fortunately our hearing declines after 60 and this became less of a problem.

The wild card is provided by children or pets who insist on entering the marital bedroom and hogging the marital bed. Neither class of creature respects privacy, personal space, or the need to avoid flatulence. And they have the infuriating habit of sleeping while they prevent others from doing so. It is the reason dog-whips were invented, and recently I found out that you could use these on dogs as well.

They Get To Complain And You Get To Not Care About It

And that is the most efficient way to resolve many problems.

If you’ve got a Facebook account for yourself or through some other group, you’ll have seen the posts that complain about something. They are sincere, sometimes…and self -serving, sometimes…and totally obscure, sometimes. Some people can actually write the trifecta, if they wish.

When they do,they may get a number of reactions:

a. Everyone will ask them if they are alright.

b. Everyone will suggest that they are all wrong.

c. No-one will react at all.

In each case they can derive some benefit from the exercise:

a. They’ll have gotten their pain/opinion/baited trap out to the world for all to see. The internal pressure will have been relieved. In some cases it takes time for the smell to dissipate.

b. They’ll find out whether they have any friends. And what their opinions are. And how they can be goaded in the future.

c. They’ll be able to receive targeted advertisements that touch in some way on every word written. You might not think that the social media engineers can make a credible marketing strategy out of the word ” and ” but you’ll be wrong. The writers should be prepared to be shilled with heavy-calibre ordnance.

The readers will also benefit:

a. They’ll know someone is alive. This may cause them joy or pain.

b. They’ll know all the deepest secrets. If people are dumb enough to write them.

c. Read (b.) again to yourself slowly…

c. They will have an opportunity to explode with rage and/or love. I cannot say which will be worse.

d. They will have been freed from the inclination to ever again have a thought on the subject. A great boon for some topics.

Suspicious Stains

Impelled by a recent comment on Facebook, I am going to have to make a confession. I have left suspicious stains on the moral fabric. The dry cleaner says he doesn’t care to put it through the machine and the Anglican Op Shop has refused to resell it. So I am stuck with it.

It would not be so bad if I had thought at the time to soak my morality on water. Or bleach. Or nitric acid. But it is too late – the telltale marks of depravity are there for all to see. The best I can do is draw around them with a Texta and pretend it is batik.

Of course I am not alone in this. There are several other people in here. The run around at night and bump into the coffee table. I wouldn’t mind so much if they would pay for some of the utility bills or at least remember to turn off the dryer. The pointers on the electricity meter box dials spin around like propellers on a Wright Cyclone bomber engine. Some days it looks like a suburban house and some days like the ” Memphis Belle “.

I do turn to the sacred texts when it all becomes too much. ” Bradshaw ” and ” The Almanach de Gotha ” are a great comfort late at night. My copy of the trigonometric tables for 1923 sits on the night stand. So do I, when the weather is warm.

 

 

 

Coughing Up A Furball

I have made a terrible discovery. Here, right here in my house. I have discovered a portal into the depths of hell.

I have found a stash of unwanted presents.

The rest of the family, and that means two guilty females, have been quietly stashing away items that have been given to us over the years that no-one in their right mind would want. The occasions upon which they entered out lives might have been Christmases, birthdays, anniversaries, or other legitimate festive days. They might also have been giveaway promotions from work affairs or supermarket promotions. Some of the worst look like things that have been abandoned on the doorstep.

There are several disturbing aspect to this discovery:

a. This sort of merchandise was actually made and actually sold to someone. Those someones walk amongst us. We may be within range of their mind-control vibrations right now.

b. We were considered suitable subjects to receive these objects. Is there a sign on my back that says ” Garbage wanted – apply within. “?

c. Someone gift-wrapped this stuff so that it got in without being thrown out. OMIGOD – we probably said ” Thank You “…Oh, I feel dirty…

d. The two guilty females are keeping this stuff for a purpose. It has no real purpose in life, so it can only be to give it away again. We are going to be, in turn, criminals.

The only real hope I see is a burgeoning of the cult of Marie Kondo. If they can latch onto the idea of ditching things that do not spark joy, this stash of trash may be binned, rather than presented to some other poor soul.

Pray for us…or prey for us, if that seems better…

I Rather Like Mr. Trump

And so should you. Here’s some good reasons why:

a. He is loud and brash and sometimes crass.

This may not seem a good thing to start with but consider how much better it is that way when you are in a group of Trump-haters. You can be harshly judgemental and in line with your crowd at the same time. You try doing that to one of your university classmates or drinking buddies and see how good-humoured they’d be about it.

b. He is male.

If you are not and are angry about that, he is the ideal embodiment of The Patriarchy. Or The Oligarchy. Or The Lever Archy. ( That’s an in joke for people who collect stationery…). In any case he is a convenient punching bag for you when you cannot find someone else to punch.

c. He is white.

Well, actually sort of tanned pink. But a lighter shade than his predecessor. If you are not, and resent the fact, you can batten upon his race as the cause of all your troubles. If you’re a little leery of playing the race card, in case it is used in turn against yourself, you can always complain that his ancestors were Dutch. That’ll get everyone on your side, including 96% of the Netherlands.

d. He is rich.

Well, that annoys me too, but I can point to every one of his possessions or activities and either sneer or cry. Everyone else who is in the same boat can join me. If we all bay at the moon the dogs will join in. Awwwooooo….

e. He has funny hair.

You might decry this but it’s been a godsend to the political cartoonists. They had a difficult time with Obama as any exaggeration of his face teetered on racial stereotype. They had to batten upon his ears. The funny Trump hair is funny and I suspect he keeps it so for a good theatrical reason.

f. He has bad ideas.

Yep, some of them are doozies. Of course all his predecessors had bad ones too, and so will all his successors, and every othe world leader… but you need not be scholarly or fair about it. When he has a bad one, you get to crow and dance about.

g. He has good ideas.

Awkward… This one is a problem, as you may secretly agree that one of his schemes is a darned good one. But what can you say? How can you agree with someone you have always pilloried? What if the good idea succeeds? Is it hot in here or are you sweating?

Give yourself an out. Do like the Russians used to do whenever anyone else invented something or did a good deed. Tell the world that it was already done by Ivan Svelkavich in 1845. In the case of Mr. Trump, invent someone who had that same good idea but from the Democrats or some socialist party. Then blame Trump for stealing it.

You know how to operate a blame-thrower, don’t you?

H. He is American.

All the way through, probably…though I doubt that you’d be allowed to saw him in half to count the rings.

The main thing is he is American and not British. That means if you are, then he is wrong. You get to deal him the same contempt you dealt to Lincoln, Roosevelt, Wilson, Truman, Eisenhower, Kennedy, and every other President. You get to resent every success and sneer at every failure based upon the fact of his citizenship – not merely his leadership.

You can rely upon every small politician or large comic to assist you in this with the assurance that you’ll always get an audience to agree with you down the local pub. That audience may be sitting there under the sword of Brexitocles and sipping their £ 8.00 shandy while the lights flicker on and off, but they’ll all agree to hate Trump with you.

Just don’t make the mistake of thinking that hating Trump will make them love you or themselves… and if you are on a trip to the USA do remember to pick the correct bar in which to open your big fat mouth.

 

Be Careful Who You Curse

Note: For the North American market – curse here doesn’t mean foul language or swearing – it means actually drawing the wrath of whatever down upon your enemies. You can swear all you like.

The business of cursing someone is a serious one. You should not do it lightly nor wantonly. You must reserve it for occasions when it is really necessary. This is not because your curses will lose potency if they become too common – it is because they may very well precipitate disaster for the victim.

Calling down the wrath of Heaven ( or raising a similar affliction from Hell ) should never be a matter of petulance or smart aleck behaviour. Both Heaven and Hell have more important things to do than act as your minions. Do not invoke them unless it is a serious matter indeed. They are not patient.

Consider before you curse whether there is another, milder, way to resolve the problem – a fist fight or stabbing or somesuch. If you have access to anti-tank artillery, use that. It is far kinder to put a 17-pounder round through someone’s door than to spit on a coin and throw it across their threshold. The AT shell will only make a big hole – the coin will destroy anything it touches – lives, reputations, businesses, etc.

Do not curse if a blessing would prove more helpful. Or damaging. Blessings are generally more acceptable to Heaven, though they may not be acted upon. It is the optional nature of the thing that lets them be racked up on a spike and attended to whenever there is enough spare time. Curses need answering right now.

Of course, the right now may be in galactic terms. Many of them take generations to come to fruition and people who are eventually sitting there covered in dung do not connect the actions of their ancestors to their fate. This may not seem to be rewarding to the cursor ( or is that curser? I can never tell. ) but if you take time to see far enough into the future you can get some inkling of the effect. The first American Indians who let tobacco loose upon mankind  probably never saw a lung cancer case in their short lives – but they can look down from the Happy Hunting Ground now and see what a curse they unleashed.

The reader of this essay who is skeptical about it will not draw a curse from me. They are free to think for themselves. But they are directed to enquire about the fate of the Han’s Café business.