‘One of our Memories is Missing’ by Nokamis

Remembrance Sunday always stirs deep emotions in me. I am sure that it does the same for most of you as well.

For the last three years and ever since I first came across it on MyT,  part of my remembrance of the day has been reading the Nokamis blog which he first published on 3rd November 2007.

On checking MyT,  I see that he is back and last posted on 3rd  November 2010.  Good and I hope that he will not mind if I repeat myself again this year and post yet another link to said  blog which says it all , in my opinion.

‘It’s cold here, colder than on the tube coming up, colder than the short walk from the station.  At least, it seems so. A capricious wind is whipping the downed leaves in golden whirlwinds round my feet. I’m feeling the cold particularly badly because I’m not wearing a coat. My funereal black mohair overcoat is gracing a hook in Florida, and I’m not sporting my natty bright red goose-down lined parka, just didn’t seem right.’

http://my.telegraph.co.uk/nokamis/nokamis/3993861/One_of_our_memories_is_missing/#disqus_thread

Continue reading “‘One of our Memories is Missing’ by Nokamis”

Aliens

Two aliens landed in the Arizona desert near a gas station that was closed for the night. They approached one of the gas pumps and the younger alien addressed it saying, “Greetings, Earthling. We come in peace. Take us to your leader.” The gas pump, of course, didn’t respond.The younger alien became angry at the lack of response. The older alien said, ‘I’d calm down if I were you.’ The younger alien ignored the warning and repeated his greeting. Again, there was no response. Pissed at the pump’s haughty attitude, he drew his ray gun and said gruffly, “Greetings, Earthling. We come in peace. Take us to your leader or I will fire!” The older alien again warned his comrade saying, ‘You probably don’t want to do that! I really think that will make him mad.’ ‘Rubbish,’ replied the cocky, young alien. He aimed his weapon and opened fire. There was a huge explosion. A massive fireball roared towards him and blew the younger alien off his feet and threw him in a burnt, smoking mess about 200 yards away in a cactus patch. Half an hour passed. When he finally regained consciousness, he refocused his three eyes, straightened his bent antenna, and looked dazedly at the older, wiser alien who was standing over him shaking his big, green head. ‘What a ferocious creature!’ exclaimed the young, fried alien. ‘He damn near killed me! How did you know he was so dangerous ?’

The older alien leaned over, placed a friendly feeler on his crispy friend and replied, ‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned during my intergalactic travels, you never mess with a guy who can loop his penis over his shoulder and then stick it in his ear.’

Pyrotechnic manoeuvres in the dark

Tonight, I’m going to stare into a fiery pits of a diabolically massive bonfire and get neck-ache going “oooh” and “ahhh” at some wondrous good rockets and other fireworks.

Bonfire night is one of those occasions I hate to miss. Not because I like noise – though I don’t mind it – but because of the connection with real fabulous, leaping fire, which you don’t see much these days unless you’re an ardent fire-engine follower – and the chance of seeing fireworks that are even more spectacular than last year’s. Continue reading “Pyrotechnic manoeuvres in the dark”

Manipulative Language

Listening to The Today Programme this morning I was struck by the way language is used to influence one’s impression. In an item on young Chinese homosexuals who deceive their parents by going through a sham marriage ceremony between a male and a female homosexual, the phrase ‘gay and lesbian’ was used constantly. Not once did I hear the word ‘homosexual’.

It reminded me of the way the feminist movement used the term ‘single mother’ to blur the distinction between unmarried mothers and mothers who were divorced. This was done to confuse antipathy to the former with sympathy for the latter. As time passed, the word ‘mother’ was dropped to favour ‘single parent’, which has in turn been dropped for ‘lone parent’.

This was no accident, but a deliberate manipulation through language. It was the feminists who told us how important language was to our impressions, hence the suffix ‘man’ was dropped from numerous previously used titles. That this was no accident is shown by the conscious, sometimes silly, avoidance of the suffix. So, a few weeks ago Peter Tatchel spoke on radio of a ‘clergyperson’, while someone else used the term ‘dustpersons’. The word ‘pathetic’ comes to mind.