I am the grit in the gears, the missing bolt, I am the poker of sticks into spokes.
I like to know how things work, but sometimes when I take them apart and rebuild them, I have a few pieces left over.
I am a man, so I tend to leave reading the instructions until after it goes wrong.
And like all men I have a comprehensive mental map of the world and never need to ask directions.
I never get lost, only sometimes I'm late, or end up in the wrong place entirely.
It's what we do.
Ireland's Ryanair is famous for it's cheap, no-frills approach to air travel. It was recently reported that they were considering a charge for using the toilet aboard their flights. They charge for everything they can think of. Grit in the Gears has been pondering the difficulties facing airlines, and has come up with this invention, which, it is hoped, will save millions of pounds when scaled up. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you saw it here first. No landing fees! A huge part of the cost of air travel is the landing fee charged by airports.
Using Professor Soubriquet's patent Aerial Ladder Embarc-Disembarc system, passengers can be landed and picked up without the plane ever touching the runway. Accuracy in lobbing the luggage is proving to be elusive, so we recommend you just wear all your clothes and stuff your pockets with the rest. Bookings are now being taken.
The Pobble who has no toes Had once as many as we; When they said "Some day you may lose them all;" He replied "Fish, fiddle-de-dee!" And his Aunt Jobiska made him drink Lavender water tinged with pink, For she said "The World in general knows There's nothing so good for a Pobble's toes!"
The Pobble who has no toes Swam across the Bristol Channel; But before he set out he wrapped his nose In a piece of scarlet flannel. For his Aunt Jobiska said "No harm Can come to his toes if his nose is warm; And it's perfectly known that a Pobble's toes Are safe, -- provided he minds his nose!"
The Pobble swam fast and well, And when boats or ships came near him, He tinkledy-blinkledy-winkled a bell, So that all the world could hear him. And all the Sailors and Admirals cried, When they saw him nearing the further side - "He has gone to fish for his Aunt Jobiska's Runcible Cat with crimson whiskers!"
But before he touched the shore, The shore of the Bristol Channel, A sea-green porpoise carried away His wrapper of scarlet flannel. And when he came to observe his feet, Formerly garnished with toes so neat, His face at once became forlorn, On perceiving that all his toes were gone!
And nobody ever knew, From that dark day to the present, Whoso had taken the Pobble's toes, In a manner so far from pleasant. Whether the shrimps, or crawfish grey, Or crafty Mermaids stole them away - Nobody knew: and nobody knows How the Pobble was robbed of his twice five toes!
The Pobble who has no toes Was placed in a friendly Bark, And they rowed him back, and carried him up To his Aunt Jobiska's Park. And she made him a feast at his earnest wish Of eggs and buttercups fried with fish, - And she said "It's a fact the whole world knows, That Pobbles are happier without their toes!"
Krazy Kat from 1916, the Great War was raging, daring young men in flying machines were zooming through the sky, Krazy is in love with Ignatz mouse, and Ignatz responds by throwing bricks....
Gary Rith posted Felix the cat on his blog,which reminded me just how much I love these oldies. When I was a kid, I always had interesting stuff in my schoolbag, like a miniature steam engine, a gyroscope, a telescope..... I was famous for it, being a collector of eclectica, a romancer of rivets, my bag was known as Felix's magic bag... (no, I was Not known as Felix...) (um... sometimes they called me The Professor, other times? oh. well, ya know... My favourite book was "The Wind in the Willows", and I was the Mole).
Yes, I know it's politically incorrect. But this was 1922.
Word of the day. Rotoscoping. No, I'm not going to explain or spoon feed you with a link. ( you can use google if you need to) This little movie shows several very clever examples of rotoscoping. Hollywood does it with computers now.
In 1965...... Vietnam: 3,500 U.S. marines are the first to arrive there. Rioting in Selma Alabama, beatings, hatred, murder, Malcolm X assassinated in Manhattan, civil rights marches, U.S. troops sent to Dominican Republic, "for the stated purpose of protecting U.S. citizens and preventing an alleged Communist takeover of the country", China and Taiwan clash at the Battle of Yong Ding, Australian infantry battalion joins US troops in Vietnam, the draft in the US increases from 17,000 to 35,000 per month, 18 year olds can not vote or drink alcohol, but they can be given a gun and sent to war against their will. Gemini 4 spends four days in orbit, first u.s. spacewalk, (cosmonaut Alexei Leonov was first, a few months earlier, 12 minutes outside the Voshkod capsule). Rioting in Algeria, Mariner 4 sails past mars. The Beatles play the first ever stadium concers, Shea Stadium. Pakistan and India declare war on each other, Chinese troops sent in force to the Chinese/Indian border. The cuban missile crisis is not long ago, kids are taught to "duck and cover", (remember, if you hear the sirens warning of imminent nuclear attack, get under your schooldesk)...
Against this world background, a nineteen year old, Phil Sloan writes "Eve of Destruction".
"The eastern world, it is exploding Violence flarin’, bullets loadin’ You’re old enough to kill, but not for votin’ You don’t believe in war, but what’s that gun you’re totin’ And even the Jordan River has bodies floatin’
But you tell me Over and over and over again, my friend Ah, you don’t believe We’re on the eve of destruction.
Don’t you understand what I’m tryin’ to say Can’t you feel the fears I’m feelin’ today? If the button is pushed, there’s no runnin’ away There’ll be no one to save, with the world in a grave Take a look around ya boy, it's bound to scare ya boy.
And you tell me Over and over and over again, my friend Ah, you don’t believe We’re on the eve of destruction.
Yeah, my blood’s so mad feels like coagulatin’ I’m sitting here just contemplatin’ I can’t twist the truth, it knows no regulatin'. Handful of senators don’t pass legislation And marches alone can’t bring integration When human respect is disintegratin’ This whole crazy world is just too frustratin’
And you tell me Over and over and over again, my friend Ah, you don’t believe We’re on the eve of destruction.
Think of all the hate there is in Red China Then take a look around to Selma, Alabama You may leave here for 4 days in space But when you return, it’s the same old place The poundin’ of the drums, the pride and disgrace You can bury your dead, but don’t leave a trace Hate your next-door neighbor, but don’t forget to say grace And… tell me over and over and over and over again, my friend You don’t believe We’re on the eve Of destruction Mm, no no, you don’t believe We’re on the eve of destruction."
"Eve" is a Viet-Nam guntruck, believed to be the only one surviving, in the US Museum of Military Transport, Fort Eustis, Virginia.
Lou Adler: I'd heard the first Dylan album with electrified instruments. This is strange, but it's really true: I gave Phil Sloan a pair of boots and a hat and a copy of the Dylan album, and a week later he came back with ten songs, including "Eve of Destruction." It was a natural feel for him - he's a great mimic. Anyway I was afraid of the song. I didn't know if we could get it played (on the radio). But the next night I went to Ciro's, where the Byrds were playing. It was the beginning of the freak period.... there was this subculture that no one in L.A. knew about, not even me, and it was growing. The Byrds were the leaders of the cult, and the place was jam-packed, spilling out on to the street. ln the middle of it was this guy in furs, with long hair, and dancing; I thought he looked like a leader of a movement. Terry Melcher told me that he was Barry McGuire, and that he'd sung with the New Christy Minstrels. A week later we cut the record and it sold six million. I didn't think it was a copy of anything. It was the first rock'n'roll protest song and Sloan laid it down in very simple terms, not like the folk people were doing. If you listen to the song today, it holds up all the way - it's the same problems. It's certainly an honest feeling, from a 16 year old. Melody Maker, Feb 5, 1972, p. 43; reprinted in Dave Laing, "Troubadours and Stars," in Dave Laing, et. al., The Electric Muse: The Story of Folk into Rock, London, 1975, pp. 58-59."
McGuire also mentioned that "Eve of Destruction" was recorded in one take on a Thursday morning (from words scrawled on a crumpled piece of paper), and he got a call from the record company at 7:00 the following Monday morning, telling him to turn on the radio - his song was playing. The recording includes an "ahhh" where McGuire couldn't read the words.
"One last thing. The media frenzy over the song tore me up and seemed to tear thecountry apart. I was an enemy of the people to some and a hero to others, but I was still only 20 years old and nobody really was looking. I have felt it was a lovesong and written as a prayer because, to cure an ill you need to know what is sick. In my youthful zeal I hadn't realized that this would be taken as an attack on TheSystem! Examples: The media headlined the song as everything that is wrong with theyouth culture. First, show the song is just a hack song to make money and thereforeno reason to deal with its questions. Prove the 19-year old writer is a communistdupe. Attack the singer as a parrot for the writers word. The media claimed thatthe song would frighten little children. I had hoped thru this song to open a dialoguewith Congress and the people.
The media banned me from all national television shows.
Oddly enough they didn't ban Barry. The United States felt under threat. So any positivepress on me or Barry was considered un-patriotic. A great deal of madness, as I rememberit! I told the press it was a love song. A love song to and for humanity, that'sall. It ruined Barry's career as an artist and in a year I would be driven out ofthe music business too."
This was on The Sisterhood of the Pointy Heel's blog. However, I don't think anyone goes there any more, and updates are few and far. I think the sistahs are too busy polishing their nails, these days.
I think it's my duty to bring it to the attention of a few more people...
In case you were wondering, it's an advert for a washing machine.
There's something not quite right about it though. because elsewhere on the internet, I saw the reality of naked skydiving, which caused me to wince... Ladies, look away now, if you don't want to be haunted by the horror of concave boobies!
Yes. I took the picture away. I got bored with the thousands of visitors who just came to look at that picture. In a way, this was my most popular post. Because of one picture. Go away. seek it elsewhere.
Okay: experiment continues. I'm timing Bing and Google against each other, to see Ohh, well, never mind....
Here it is again......
As for the men... You think dogs wag their tails a lot?
