Au Cochonnet Marin

« La liberté des uns s’arrête là où commence celle des autres.”
“One’s freedom stops where others’ freedom starts.”

 

 I am a “middleroader”. I don’t go for extreme positions… except maybe for people who are cruel to animals or small children. For those individuals I am strongly in favor of public flogging and a prominent “scarlet letter” (preferably on the forehead).

Otherwise I am a mild-mannered person and expect reciprocity from others.
That’s why I am against any type of extremism, political, social or religious.
I have opinions but I will never coerce anybody into sharing them with me.

I am particularly weary of people who hold extreme views. Especially crusaders consumed with a single burning passion. I think that there is something scarily weird about them. An emotional void that needs to be filled with extreme rhetoric or violence.

Personally I don’t have a single obsession; I have varied interests and therefore my energy is split and diffused among all of them.
I certainly don’t want to bump off or decapitate anybody who beats me at pétanque.

I don’t like evangelism, Islamism, Judaism, absolutism, Biblicism, chauvinism, creationism, dogmatism, fascism… basically it seems, almost every word ending in “ism”.
Hoplophilia by the way (erotic interest in guns) is also on my no-no list.

Extremists remind me the Lilliputian quarrel over the practice of breaking eggs.

“Traditionally, Lilliputians broke boiled eggs on the larger end; a few generations ago, an Emperor of Lilliput, the Present Emperor’s great-grandfather, had decreed that all eggs be broken on the smaller end after his son cut himself breaking the egg on the larger end.
The differences between Big-Endians (those who broke their eggs at the larger end) and Little-Endians had given rise to “six rebellions… wherein one Emperor lost his life, and another his crown”.

 How dopey can you get? Doesn’t this remind you of what’s happening in the Middle East?

My innovative solution for extremism is therapeutic sex.

Therapeutic sex is typically a process by which sexual contact and intimacy are used as therapeutic treatment for a variety of emotional or psychological issues. 

 It is no secret that most fanatics are sexually deprived.
Let western governments allocate some money and send battalions of patriotic “escorts” to the Middle East.
I guarantee that after a roll (maybe two or three) in the hay most fanatics would be less inclined to die for the dubious prospect of scores of virgins in the sky.

It would be less costly, less bloody and way more effective than thousands of “boots on the ground”.

Eh Washington, what do you think?
It works in prisons (conjugal visits), why wouldn’t it work in Jihadi-land?

Alain

PS: If you read this post in WordPress format and want to see it in its original format, click once on the title of the article (in blue).

Please watch my new photo album titled “A walk in the park”.

“I hate housework! You make the beds, you do the dishes and six months later you have to start all over again.” Joan Rivers

  

Confidentially, housecleaning has never been my thing.
As a matter of fact, deep inside I am a (cleaning) conscientious objector. Cobwebs and dust have never bothered me and I don’t bother them.
This is has always been our mutual modus vivendi.

But this arrangement does not sit well with my mate who thrives on dusting and mopping. When it comes to cleaning she is a hardliner.
I don’t know where she caught this strange affliction but she cannot help herself, she has to scrub.
She sometimes sounds like Lady Macbeth. “Out, damned spot! Out I say.”

Vacuuming (not enough according to her) has always been a bone of contention in our household, but suddenly everything changed.
Out of the blue sky (courtesy of Santa) a Roomba Vacuum Cleaning robot landed in our living room. The strange little thing looked like a mix between a small flying saucer and Artoo-Detoo (R2-D2).

After going through the fairly scant instructions a few times I unleashed the machine and the Force awakened.
It started moving around the living room acting like a drunken sailor. It bumped on any obstacle and immediately changed course, but unlike a sloshed swabbie it did a very respectable job.
My cat observing from a safe distance looked nonplussed. Friend or foe? Fight or flee? To be determined after further observation (preferably from an elevated position).

After twenty minutes of seemingly erratic behavior I stopped the machine and emptied its waste container. I was surprised by the amount of dust and cat hair it collected.
Did I really have so much grunge in my abode? Could the missus be right? Hum…

Since the machine was going to be a permanent guest in our household, I thought that I should give it a name and I finally christened her Celeste (from the French “heavenly”) or Celestine.
Now I will probably have to get her a French maid outfit.

So vacuuming should not be a problem anymore. We will just have to unleash Celestine a few times a week and relax while watching the antics of would-be presidents on the tube.

One last thing.
Celestine is powered by a rechargeable battery. After the allotted cleaning time is completed, she heads back by herself to the recharging station for a power transfusion.

Isn’t technology wonderful?

 “My idea of housework is to sweep the room with a glance.” —Erma Bombeck

 I would tend to agree with this, don’t you? Guys?

Alain

https://youtu.be/upEBdKFGlPg

“The Supreme Court has ruled that they cannot have a nativity scene in Washington, D.C. This wasn’t for any religious reasons. They couldn’t find three wise men and a virgin.”
Jay Leno

 

Very well observed Mr. Leno.

The holiday season is the Bermuda Triangle of the Julian calendar.
It is full of lurking reefs that can damage or sink the sturdiest vessel.

One needs to prepare very carefully (mentally, physical and financially) to run the gauntlet of the “happiest time of the year”.

During the “holy days” (very similar to the rut season) feelings are easily bruised and horns easily locked. Many dormant, unresolved issues could easily degenerate in open warfare, and it often does. Especially within fractious families.

“At Christmas, tea is compulsory. Relatives are optional.” – Robert Godden

First of all, during the holidays you must be jolly. No ifs or buts. Donald Trump said so and as you know the Donald (like il Duce) is always right.

During the holidays you must also love everybody. The Good Book says so.
Everybody…? I don’t think so. Personally I reserve the right to dislike anybody I please.
I claim the right to take exception to anybody, any race, religion (especially that one) or political faction.
I am an equal opportunity spurning machine.

Then there is the business-driven frenzy of shopping. I don’t care if you are a pauper, papist or pessimist, you must buy presents!
If you don’t, you are obviously anti-business and anti-American. For this sin you might be investigated and put on the No-Fly list.

For the fun gun-loving crowd shopping is easy. They will probably head to the nearest gun shop and snatch up the latest killing machine for their friends and relatives.
The religious bunch might blow up something to celebrate the holy days and the politicians will reward themselves with their annual totally undeserved break.

As I said, the (ever-expanding) holiday season is a stressful time. But it might be helped with generous daily doses of hooch or hallucinatory mushrooms.
But don’t despair; there is light at the end of the tunnel.

On December 22, 2015 (Winter Solstice) days will be getting longer and you will have more time to work and recover most of the dough that you spent during the holidays.

The holidays should be a good time for all religions to come together, but don’t hold your breath.
My religion is way better than yours and if you don’t agree with me you deserve to die you heretic dog.

Peace to you too.

Alain

PS: If you read an article in WordPress and want to see it in its original format, click once on the title of the article (in blue).