Oh dear.

Yesterday, in an effort to stay somewhat current with "modern life," I looked at the Huffington Post.
It's an awful on line paper which I guess is crafted to appeal to everyone. It contains political "news" and total trash.

I'd heard the news, suspected some of the reporting and wound my way down to the bottom.
It appeared that the current thing was Miley Cyrus-a singer whose dad came from Kentucky-who'd preformed at some awards ceremony. She seemed to have managed to shock people.

I clicked on the performance and CNN's commentary. I watched both long enough to gather that the young lady relied on sexual posturing and taking off her clothes. Nothing new there.

A CNN commentator was outraged. Well, that was sort of new.

Today I read the comments of the CNN news manager. She explained that the whole "news" coverage of Ms. Cyrus' "dance" was to improve their ratings. Nothing new there either. Then she lit into the audience of all the news on TV and on line. The audience, in short, comprised idiots.

Is that new?

I am ashamed to have fallen for this ploy and will never again attempt to figure out popular culture.
I knew I'd screw it up.

Winnie the rat slayer or why I love this bitch.

Did I tell you about the rat?

We came home from San Francisco to a quiet house. Well, sort of. I"d heard banging in the closet off the stairs to the basement and when I investigated I noted that whatever it was, it was active and had thrown a taped box of mouse poison to the floor. I should have taken this as an omen, but one can never be sure and we did have a ghost here when we moved into the house.

The old ghost stayed on the stairs up to the second floor though- and he was very well mannered, never threw a thing.

So I instructed John to close and lock the door to the basement.

That didn't take.

The night we arrived back I was a bit wonkey. I went to bed and awoke to Mickey the dog diabetic's tic tak-ing around the house. He was dumping urine. It happens sometimes and the poor beastie can't help it. Aside from his embarrassment, there is a problem with the urine. It's sugar and it hardens to a lovely gloss but as there's not enough of it to coat the entire floor and seal it, it's best to scrub it up. Which I did.

Mick and Winnie went to sleep and I fell over sideways on the couch and passed out.

I woke up. Winnie was drawn up stiff as a statue on the little couch. As I watched she launched herself into space, landed in the dinning room and flashed behind the table.

I heard THUNK, THUNK.

Then an animal foot nicked my field of vision, twitched and lay still.

Winnie came dancing into the room.

I have learned to be very specific with John. Shrill screams move him not, loud cries of pain pass him by, shrieks are beyond his experience therefore he hears them not. You get the picture.

I yelled (very, very very loudly) JOHN  COME  DOWN  HERE.  I   NEED  YOU !!!!!!

Reluctant footsteps later, John arrived and said. "What an unfortunate awakening."

He wandered over to the prone body, eyed it and went upstairs. Then he came downstairs with equipment with which to dispose the corpse.

He looked at the corpse again and walked to the desk. He pulled out a camera and brought it to the spot. He almost took a picture when he thought the better of it. He headed for the desk, rummaged around and hove to again. This time he had a camera and a ruler. He dropped the ruler next to the rat and then he took several pictures.

He checked the pictures, nodded with satisfaction and disposed of the rat corpse. Then he went back to bed.

I thought he was mad.

The next day Barney the exterminator arrived. He discoursed widely on the topic of rats. He doubted we'd had one and was disappointed when there was no dead rodent body on offer.

I went to the desk and pulled out the camera. With some difficulty I located the pictures.

"That's a rat allright," he was unwontedly cheerful. "What a clever man you husband is. This is just what I needed."

I may someday forgive the male race and only take comfort in the fact that the rat was male and Winnie the valiant bitch killed it.

Some things I've learned

What goes in doesn't always go out. This applies to everything from savings funds, to stocks and bodies.

Self interest can't be relied on to motivate anyone. Perception is all. "Anyone" includes dogs.

People are commodities.

Dogs are now "fur people." No one sees this as strange.

Cats are gods.

Check out lanes follow the rules of the universe. The "fifteen items or less" lines take the most time.

An amazing number of people are odd.

Suffering is boring.

A watched pot boils about the time the watcher has leg cramps.

Cooking is not an entertainment. It is a necessity.

Personality tests lie.

Youth is always remedied.

By the time you know something, no one wants to know it.

Statistics keep chart makers employed and thus should be permitted.

Realities differ.

People sincerely against the government should take up arms against themselves.

Time

I note the time listed for the above post is wrong. Where's infallibility?

Starting over in the new world

Google is trying to coerce me into giving them my cell phone number. I keep trying to tell them that I have no idea what the damn number is and I'm too lazy to call someone to find out. They pretend to be worried that someone will blog in my blog and all hell will break loose. Fat chance.

Currently some people are worried about their privacy. Once these electronics got going there is none. One must just count on being so insignificant that no one will be interested. It's a safe bet as far as I'm concerned. Of course any sane person would avoid some words and phrases, but given the accuracy displayed so far by our leaders, I think it's safe to say about anything.

So I will.

Big brother is watching, but as always he's not seeing.

I am reminded of my long ago youth. Setting: coffee house. (Pre Starbucks), characters: hippies, and a guy in white socks staring at a young man reading a Chinese newspaper. Person present who is dangerous, not the guy with the paper.

la vie encore

I'm trying to re instate this blog. One of my three followers is a tad bit cross at finding no writing here. If it works, I'll post much more.