Category: Fourre-tout

A little bit of everything

Ghost walker

In ancient times cats were worshipped as gods; they have not forgotten this.
Terry Pratchett

My cat is not quite a teenager but she already behaves like one (and I fear that the worst is yet to come.)
She is wild, impulsive, rebellious, highly energetic, adventurous and emotional.
In one word, a true juvenile.

IMG_2701It won’t be long before she starts sniffing glue, smoking pot (I better hide my stash) and demanding her own cell phone.
And of course begging for the car keys and spending the night out.
But not so fast dudette!
I am seriously considering fitting her with a GPS so that I will know where she is at all times. And I want to meet her “friends”.
She is not crazy about this idea.

Because of her inbred inquisitiveness, I think that when she grows up, she might be a journalist, a private investigator or maybe (because of her amazing athletic skills) join a circus for a flying trapeze act.

“The performance was invented in 1859 by a Frenchman named Jules Leotard, who connected a bar to some ventilator cords above the swimming pool in his father’s gymnasium in Toulouse, France. After practicing tricks above the pool, Leotard performed his act in the Cirque Napoleon (now known as the Cirque d’hiver). The traditional flier’s costume, the leotard, is named after him.”

I bet you didn’t know that!

Despite her young age, she can reach any spot in the house. And to my chagrin, she does. Nothing is safe from her inquisitive mind or sharp claws.
During the night, she moves like a ghost, her eyes occasionally glowing in the dark. And regardless of the situation, she always wants to be on the other side of the door.

While an occasional couch potato, she is also a deep thinker and spends a lot of time mulling over different mischief possibilities.
When relaxing, she prefers her martini shaken not stirred.
Unlike her royal relatives, she is easily amused and will play with anything loose or not chained to a wall.

For a feline, the call of the wild (the common ground area behind my house) is irresistible.
Kate is a naturally canny hunter and I dread the day when she is going to catch (and she will) one of the little birds feeding in our garden.

She is rowdy but good-natured, affectionate and not averse to an occasional tummy scratching session. She then purrs almost as loudly as I snore.

As May Sarton once said:
“Time spent with cats is never wasted.”

I totally agree with this.

Alain

http://youtu.be/OnqnCoPLdyw

Sugar is for the birds…

IMG_5953I know that this is old hat, but it seems that America has an insatiable craving for sugar.
Actually it is more than a mere craving, it is an addiction.

Most Americans will smother just about anything with sugary stuff, apparently to mask its true flavor. Doesn’t this strike you as odd, even perverted?
Meat, fish, vegetables, even fruits are subjected to the sugar coating treatment.
Pancakes have become nothing more than an excuse for a syrup-slurping orgy.

Around 1837, a man named Jonas Yerks started to produce a foul sugary concoction called Ketchup. Oddly enough, it became popular and was distributed on a wide scale.
My pet theory about this is that the original Forty-Niners (1848-1855) used this mixture to disguise the taste of their miserable grub and make it more palatable.
After returning home they continued to coat their food with that concoction and popularized it.

Ketchup unfortunately has invaded homes and is now found in thousands of eating-places, even in Europe.

I am glad to report that there are some exceptions though; I was once dining in a three stars restaurant when some Vulgarian summoned the waiter and asked for Ketchup.
The waiter told him that the chef of this particular restaurant didn’t allow Ketchup to interfere with his cooking.
I almost cried. There was still hope. What kind of “muzhik” (Russian peasant) would indeed request Ketchup with a tasty Chateaubriand?
In the good old days they would have beheaded somebody for making such an outrageous request.

The telltales of this sugar dependency are now showing everywhere.
Obesity that was once rare in America is now becoming a common occurrence.
The lean and lanky Marlboro Man is now a fat slob.

Even terms of endearment reflect this disturbing trend. Only in America will people call each other Candy, Honey, Sweetie, Sugar.
Why not Ice Cream, Glucose or Molasses?

Personally I am not fond of sweet stuff. I prefer my food on the briny side.
That’s why I would be more inclined to call the object of my affection Olive, Pickle or Gherkin…
It sounds less sickening than Sugar… don’t you think?

So for your own sake, get this monkey off your back.
Kick the sugar habit addiction and rediscover the true taste of food.

Xoxo!

Alain

The gift of gab

Some people have the “gift of gab”, the (often dangerous) ability to convince others into doing what they want.
(The gift of gab is supposedly given to one who kisses the Blarney Stone in Ireland, but it seems that some individuals kissed the Malarkey Stone instead and ended up spouting crapola).

Many of these blowhards are often unsuccessful opportunists looking for ways to improve their forgettable status.
They trawl the flotsam of society, prospecting for alienated, restless, angry young men (or women).

When they hook a prey (generally a gullible slacker) it is like a match made in heaven.
-Hello brother, are you looking for adventure, excitement?
-Yeah I think so…
-I thought so. Are you a True Believer?
-Yes I think so, I am not sure… (Some militants have been known to carry “Islam for dummies” in their rucksack.)
-That’s OK, I’ll show you the way.

And just like the generals of yesteryear, these rabble-rousers will send thousands of impressionable young people into harm’s way, while safely staying put behind the lines.

The spark for this new crusade is the perceived and drummed notion of unfairness toward Islam. And the answer for this capital sin is Jihad, a bloody war against “unbelievers”.
To defend Islam threatened by Infidels.

Jihad evokes adventure, the thrill often lacking in otherwise drab existences.
And there are rewards: guns (who doesn’t love them?), war brides (willing or not), terrorizing victims, and bragging rights if coming out unscathed of this adventure.

Most of this recruiting is done online. So the fight against “Islamofascism” should start on the web.

French Interior Minister Bernard Cazenave recently went to the United States to promote policing websites promoting extremism.
He talked to Internet operators Facebook, Google, Twitter trying to convince them to better police the Internet.

This is a good beginning, but the fight against extremist propaganda should not start on the web. It should start at home.

Relatives and friends should be on the lookout for somebody’s new and unusual behavior. And if they notice anything odd, they shouldn’t be afraid to implement an intervention “an occasion on which a person with a behavioral problem is confronted by a group of friends or family members in an attempt to persuade them to address the issue.”
And if the intervention is not successful, alert the authorities!

If you ever catch me growing a beard, becoming sanctimonious, showing any suspicious signs of unexpected piety or proselyting, I beg you, INTERVENE!

Tie me up, tie me down and do everything possible to bring me back to my normal state of swearing, drinking, pigging out and wenching.
Thank you ahead of time for doing a good deed.

Alain

Merci a Eliana!