Magic Beans

It was 2024 and they had used up all of their magic beans.

It's was just like a fairy tale, but not the good kind.

Things going backwards, steadily.

But let the fuckwittery commence.

Blah Blah

This sort of thing has been said many times and of course nothing ever happens. I wonder what it would actually take for some sort of successful revolt to take place? The tweets, headlines, articles and shouty debates over royal greed and skullduggery are just basic news space fodder. People will nod and agree and then go back to sleep. Nothing to see here just somebody moaning about the royal family (God bless them). There are more pressing issues you may say, but where exactly does social injustice begin? At the bottom or at the top? Who has the power to set up a properly weighted balance? It should be acceptable just to want to live in a fairer, better and more open world and maybe have a road map to guide us. And yes, just in case you didn't know, the monarchy do live in another world and you'll not be going there. 

Anyway, here's a cute cat called Zippy.

Vietnamese Condensed Milk Party

A party for one. Good health's fractious dream and general dental welfare are cast to the wind. The persistence of the inevitable aging process and internal rot that robs me of my looks and faculties seeps into every aspect of my fragile existence. I hear a constant buzzing, some distant appliance churning up electricity, the edges of my vision go fuzzy, my teeth are on end, there's a new pain in the place of a familiar pain, my thoughts are distinct but foggy, my imagination rewinds to find familiar paths where I'm lost, my breath is sour to the taste as I breathe in the fumes of a soul's lifetime pollution. I now have more hills to climb that I ever expected. It's that bloody but marvelous, sweet as heroin's opioid sugar, running straight through the condensed milk that's fighting for it's very existence as it nearly drowns in an ocean of hot dark coffee; Vietnamese style.

Asparagus Dreams

Untended and misunderstood bits of the garden can go crazy over time, a bit like people might. It's not as if we've ignored the asparagus, it's just remained untrained and now it's sort of unkempt. I've not really ever had a dream in which asparagus featured strongly either. Then again I'm a bit of a non dreamer. I have not as yet received the gift of regular dreaming. The inside of my head is an unfathomable void at night time. I'm highly skilled at sleeping though, it comes naturally to me. My one true but mostly hidden talent. 

When the (great?) day comes and I'm judged on the contents of my life and what I've achieved I'll be sure to brag about sleeping as soundly as a bag of damp concrete and doing it on a regular basis. I doubt that such a claim, however honest, will get me over the finishing line. There have been many other things. Aye, eternal life and all that. Now back to taming the unruly asparagus. This randomly generated post may have been inspired by a Kate Bush ear worm. What do you think of that Google AI?

Radio Amazing

You might get all the money! Turns out it's not all that amazing* ... so few things in modern life are really. I thought that this free gift of an AR graphic would toggle me onto their website and our account but no - so here's the link. I'm ruminating over whether or not to use AR. Anyway I wish them and all the artists out there, fighting like ferrets in a sack for a wee bit of attention, all the best.

*One of my least favourite words - but who cares?

Found Things

I discovered a fragment of the True Cross.

Early morning self portrait prior to a decent shave.

The world's most expensive coffee? It's real and I have some, the famous Weasel Coffee of Vietnam. Best served with a mighty slug (?) of condensed milk. I was of course unaware of the story behind this product, there's more information here. Don't judge me.

October 31st

Other People

 

A big thanks and shout out to all the good people from the land of "Other", 148k views for this blog in eight years* is good going. You know who you are. Cheers.

*To be clear this blog has been going since 2004 but for some reason the CIA and MI5 web crawlers (possibly following the instructions of the Russians and the Fessbook Mafia) decided to delete a large number of years and traffic records from my scattered and battered files. However the good news is I'm no longer considered a threat.

Scotland

Tonight's statistically unproven weather forecast for the land where those brave and resilient Scottish folks live.

"Tonight will be mostly cloudy, but the north-east will see a few more frequent clear spells. Light rain or drizzle is expected in both eastern and western areas and will also develop for the Northern Isles."

Unless there's heavy sleet or snow and winds in excess of 30 knots expected this is the forecast we get most nights/days.

Farewell Unseen Disciples

A soft and controlled farewell to most of the Twitter (X) monsters and also those good people I've been in the habit of following. Turns out that some aspects social media might well be better viewed as a bit of a failed experiment and put to rest. Overall it's a shame things haven't worked out as well as they might have, though I'm not sure what that would even look like. When a downfall happens it's often quick and merciless and a bin fire is a bin fire. I have not yet deleted X but I've consciously uncoupled from numerous accounts that were tedious, unhelpful or that I've come to disagree with. I'll be less likely to visit it too and will now get back to my neglected stamp collection and regular home baking.

Do I feel better for this? Not really, but if something has the potential to drag you down maybe it's better to let go of it before it's poison really starts to work. In other news, for the few remaining years that I'm likely to be driving road vehicles, I won't be purchasing any Tesla products. It seems like only yesterday when that whole thing was futuristic, cool and inspirational; little did I know how it was going to develop. I've also returned my one way ticket to Mars. I doubt I'll get a refund though.

Routine Cat Procedures

In the dimming of the day, the weathering of the weather, the passing clouds of cloudiness, as the seasons slowly shift, delivery people and postmen come and go, traffic rumbles outside, TVs and lights flicker on and then off, fluff floats across a field of vision, the times between meals and other meals moves on, the dull hum of unexplained existence and unknown distant activities: beyond it all cats just snooze around doing something close to nothing, or so it seems.

Moving on from esoteric cat ramblings: this sauce is pretty good.

Also, how cats sleep.

Paw Patrol

Ignorance can be bliss: I saw this vehicle parked up in a supermarket  parking lot the other day. I thought it looked odd. It's not a police vehicle but it looks like one. Lights, livery and maybe even action. How do they get away with that? I did a quick Google and after wading through the usual irrelevant shit Google freely provides, I got my answer (as below). I'm not quite sure what to make of it but ... there you are.

Ancient Apocalypse

 

Dear Mr Netflix Person,

I've now watched two seasons of Graham Hancock's revisionist views on world history. I'm sure you're aware that he proposes that, in a nutshell, a race of highly (?) superior beings somehow survived an "ancient apocalypse" (the flood of legends) about 14000 years ago and set the other more "primitive" survivors back on the track to civilisation by passing on their wisdom and practical skills. In so doing they laid the foundations for the modern world. Sounds fair enough to me but nobody in the mainstream of education or science is agreeing with this right now. I wonder why?

Hancock spends a lot of time picking at pieces of unchallenged evidence to support his theory and I actually like that he's out to disrupt the established view and it'd be nice to think he might be right (and I suppose he just might be) as it would kill off the various creation myths religions have fed us and also explain many mysteries surrounding the numerous huge and ancient stone buildings, ground works and sophisticated ancient structures that are out there. Academics often need a shake up - history does teach us that too. He's maybe just not the guy to do it IMHO.

Of course the format, his quirky victim attitude, laconic delivery and the tedious editing style used throughout the show undermines everything he says. It's flawed and disjointed as a structural piece of documentary story telling, always jumping across time and places rather than going deeper. I thought the old Discovery Channel documentary format was bad but this is even worse. Fictional animations, all slow paced for maximum cheesy drama, false starts and the repetition of statements abound as does a pounding and unsubtle musical score. I did like many of the computer graphics and views of the ancient sites, they were all quite well rendered and watchable and much of the detail was new to me so I'm not totally negative about everything.

You should note also that when GH is in front of the camera, using those weird shot angles during conversations coupled with the style in which he delivers his dry and progressively more unconvincing narrative, the overall experience is quite infuriating. Having said that I willingly watched it just hoping that a shaft of light might be stumbled upon that would perhaps clear up a little of the darkness from humanities history (for me and every other viewer no doubt). That's the whole point of the show. There is that tantalizing promise of red meat in each episode but the actual payoff never comes. So it was an interesting but flawed and bumpy journey. However many episodes spent wading through the snake oil and enduring GH's unblinking stares into the camera was uncomfortable for me. In the end I guess Netflix earned some revenue from the adverts and viewing stats and pleased the community of radical historians out in the left field. I'm done now and can only really say, so long and thanks for all the lovely fish.

Respect and Smarties

Wee John fae Fife (age 69ish)

Slow Wicks

Time for reflection and all that shit: Now the seasonal cruise ships have passed into the mist, there's winter coal to be stockpiled and the nights are fare drawin' in, achieving a reasonable level of physical fitness is back on the agenda once more. The unchained unicorn of well being is chased across gardens and rooftops, over rainbows and cloud castles until it settles on Joe's early morning YouTube channel so that exercise sessions can safely resume, slowly. 

The cats remain a torment and an inspiration but I know I'll never climb a tree or scale a fence with their level of attack and energy. I'll never manage any of Joe's fully adult sessions either, it would just lead to injury and self inflicted pain, the worst kind. Slow and steady and quietly follow on at your own pace and level of competence and confidence is the mantra. "Nice and easy does it", as Mr Sinatra might have sung in his world weary, lounge lizard style. Back in the day I was a long distance, short attention span runner you know. I don't miss any of that.

Goodbye Pork Pie

 

Farewell and adieu to one illustrious pork pie and one that is most definitely not a piece of headwear. I might say more but probably wont. This brief and lightly worded elegy is to a real pie that has now passed. As must all pies.

Teaser and the Firecat

Well there's a nifty little fire alarm and a black cat made from sugar paper. An actual Teaser character image that fits with this cannot be located right now. I apologise for any confusion. No moon has fallen from the sky on my watch either. Things may have been worse but probably were easier in 1972.

I'm currently existing at a critical point of life where sausage rolls disappear, slow punctures happen quickly, ancient history is unraveling before my very eyes (thanks to Netflix) and I may well finally understand the use of the Oxford comma. Stimulation is constantly there or thereabouts.

None of this is helpful I know, not even to me. Tomorrow some poorly named storm is likely to hit us and it's also my birthday but I already have at least one birthday bottle of whisky under my control so there's hope for us all. The cold never bothered me anyway.

Doppelganger Fog

I recently discovered that George the cat has an overpriced Tuxedo Cat Lego doppelganger. I prefer the real thing.

Football: Bo'ness v Broxburn. A rather foggy night spent trying to follow a disappearing ball as it was booted around in the mist at Newton Park. In the end it was an entertaining but goalless draw. Reasonable pies and coffees on sale helped things. I certainly would go back for further bargain basement entertainment. "Top class" football really does suck in my opinion, for numerous reasons. The lower leagues are the place to be, if you're a fan and don't mind standing while watching the struggle.

A moment for some peace and relaxation in the heart of Edinburgh city. Most modern "chain" eateries are some kind of anti climax and eventual let down. The thin rib cage of economic squeezes and adhering to stark profit margins shines through as the foundational thinking behind pushing whatever products they have. Low pay, uncertainty and lack of staff development bring unhealthy benefits that customers can sense in the tension and delivery style. Care and pride has been bred right out of the system in a race to the bottom that we all have some kind of part in, like it or not. OK it's endemic in everything - as I reflect, invariably thinking "what's the point?", so I'll leave it there. Time for a soft reset. Humans screw up too much of what they do. So, still a strangely quieter place than might have been expected on a Thursday lunchtime. Too much moaning in this post though ...

Nearly...

"Nearly everyone has their box of secret pain."

John Steinbeck.

I wonder how nearly this nearly actually is.

Exercises in Randomness

Over the hills and far away, relatively speaking.

Following a brief period of incarceration George, the mighty cat who always knows best, surveys various aspects of his current domain, all from a suitably high place.

A recent dinner, or at least the main part of the meal deal we had from an M&S store. Tiny onions, tiny mushrooms. Very nice. Serves two adult human types.

When Petrol Was The Future

Once upon a time petrol pumps were found on high streets or main streets. A fledgling roadside amenity. Perched on the pavements like drinking fountains, easily accessible for the odd vehicle that might pull up for a refill. The local iron monger or blacksmith might own the set up and sell fuel in between other more lucrative bits of business. Ordinary people didn't really own cars or much else back then either. It was the age of the famous moustache too. I'm sure that there are photos or records of black limos with small boys running alongside them looking for a hidden horse. A world long gone. One with no real health, safety or fire prevention regulations ... we don't want that again.

Every so often you'll see dead electrical switches like this on odd walls, mostly in rural locations, the rusty pumps and storage systems long gone. Petrol and diesel were not the dirty words they are today. We know better now but we don't really because it's all someone else's fault and we're as much the victims and part of the cash/taxation fodder as the third world crude oil workers who's products are cleaned up and sold on to us. Sad to say, interesting but ultimately ugly and over weight EVs shipped over from China don't really do it either. You know they'll be unsupported tech junk in seven years. We just might need a better solution.