I wear sloppy Joes’. Only one at a time, of course. Nothing wrong with them.
Life is imitating art. In the name of my Auntie Mimeses, this is a ring cycle and a half. Zzzz.
The study of ancient life. Backwards thinking. Theorising about old rags and bones. Fossil finders that CGi their lucky strikes and make big lizards. I will make a compelling case to argue that dinosaurs didn’t exist.
We’ll start with the skeletons in the closet. Their girth. These big truckers wouldn’t fit in a cloakroom. Then there’s the fact that there are no big beasts around today already throws up a red flag. None of them thawed from the ice! Not one. Not one, from this enormous pack of behemoths, not one had the resilience of a bug. Also, why did the bonefinders generals make them so big. From twigs and ribs they modeled these creatures. This bit goes here, that bit goes there, we’ll put scales on this one. a tail on that one. By Crichton, they airfixed these monsters to ridiculous sizes. Being so huge they would have ran out of food. This, I suppose, is a compelling case for their extinction if they lived in the first place.
Now we move to Animal Planet content. The puritan Paleontologists didn’t place genitalia on their specialized subjects. Go on, give me one example in any museum or Jurassic park franchise where there’s a Dr Manhattan strutting about. Obviously, taking their cue from ancient Greek sculptures and hoping to cash in at the cinema with a G rating they decided that fig leaves were not an option so, boof, there goes your family allowance. The lack of sexual organs is a good a reason as any for non-existence. No T-rexctasy.
The magical world of dinosaurs is populated by giants of all stripes. We’ve got flying saurs, water living saurs, plant eating saurs, nesting saurs, John Le Mesurier. It’s all too orderly for me. The majority have bought this scam. Dooursaurs agree? We’ll see. In this place, all our dinosaurs are missing. None of them blog in this period. Come on, get the stone tablets out and get chiseling. Bronto!
What’s strine for that, Bearsy? Not 666 think double 6. .I’ll bet. Just like lawn bowling, the north of UK would be world champions at being non-chappers.
Sorry folks, another haircut blog. Well, we could be entering LD 2..
I pine for Glynis Barber again.
And she pines for me (yeah right, sub-editor comment)
Sheds are not for me. I’ll leave the carpentry and their abrasives to the Aussies. I’m a fringe guy born and bred; straight and to the front Trouble is Greta could be right. The crow’s feet, sorry, nest has sighted rising tides. By Gore, I’m going to have an island at the forefront of my bonce.
Don’t bother me none. It will rule the waves And it has a dashing, crashing coo’s lick promontory.
As the weather was even good for rocket launching I decided to give my 1969 Trabant 601 a blast. That Antonine wall needs breached.
Durham is nice, good for the eyes apparently, and a full tank would get me there.
Ahh Durham, home to a place called Barbara Castle, I’ll drink to that. I put my seat belt on and went the distance. Safely, of course.
The Trabi broke down just like a satellite dish. I’m in a bit of trouble here and a bloke that looks like Ilie Nastase is giving me the evil eye.
Stay home. Stay safe. Nuff said.
I miss flying a kite.
Any barbers around here?
It was more a case of save your money for God’s sake than art for arts sake that I suggested to my good friend, Chibber, we explore an art gallery rather than paint the town red, white and blue in a drinking establishment. This was, of course, pre-covid days.
At first hesitant by my complicated and sophisticated reasoning, rolling my Rs and elongating my Es, I could see my brainwashing was working and he agreed to enter the Chamber of Magical Dreams. Think he thought he was going to Disneyland.
Continue reading “Chibber at the Art Gallery”
Not being much of a political animal I steer clear of the circus that is British politics. However, a comment by the current PM, Boris Johnson, comparing Jeremy Corbyn with Stalin made me pause for thought.
Labour propose to introduce a 4 day working week in the next ten years. All good and well but are they imitatating one of the Soviet Dictator’s doctrines.
In 1929 Stalin had a calendar moment and eradicated Saturdays and Sundays from a normal week. And then there were five, as it were. Workers worked four days a week on different rotas and got one day off. That’s one way to boost productivity.
Labour aren’t saying but does this mean, in the near future we must proclaim…
Saturdays no more.
Sundays no more.