Ron

Ron was killed by a fox. I wasn’t here when it happened. Ilse came home and there were feathers everywhere. He tried to outrun that fox but being a flightless bird he was doomed. Dear Ron… He was like the secretary manager of the local club. Diligently doing his duty. Being a bit useless but very proud and handsome.

Some lessons from Ron’s death could be:

No matter how much you try and dodge it, you are going to get it in the end.

Enjoy those chicks as often as you can

If you aren’t equipped to fly, no amount of flapping about will get you off the ground.

Be proud, it’s in your nature.

Live it up, strive to be free, try and look after those around you.

Keep an eye out for enemies and if you can hide…do it.

You are a part of a food chain.

People that have some responsibility for your well-being won’t always be around to help.

Do your best.

Goodbye Ron and thanks for being here for a while.

5 Depressing things about 2011

Here is a list of 5 of some of the  things that depressed me in 2011 to a lesser or greater degree.
I need to write them down and get them out of my head so I can start afresh for 2012.

Not in any particular order of importance or anything:

1. The Pope. Those threatening pronouncements about giving up reason and getting on with faith, otherwise I will face eternal damnation. Such an unpleasant mammal.
2. Cold Play and U2. They have to be two of the worlds most horrible bands with their insipid forgettable melodies. People throw up that old argument about how popular they are. As if popular means something is good. What a horrible idea.
3. Price of petrol. There was some oil crisis earlier in  the year. I don’t hear anymore about that now but the price is still high. WTF?
4. Amateur musicians getting gigs where the money doesn’t really matter to them. Working for crap money. They have a day job. What if I came and worked in your industry and did it for laughs and beer vouchers? Yeah, I’ll just pull your teeth for a pint ?
5. Price of mobile phone plans? WTF? it’s just bits and bytes? What cost? Are the telco companies still paying off the price of their towers?

There is more to be added to this list. I’ll get to them before January 1. Leave your own list in the comments box.

Midleton Main Street Christmas

I felt irritated by this experience when I was having it. When I got home I felt like just a grumpy old man………….

The other day I was walking down the main street of Midleton and listening to cheesy christmas music. The sound was coming out of those old outdoor speaker cone horn type thingos like you used to see at carnivals in the 70ʼs. They were tied to the telegraph poles at regular intervals at a height that doesnʼt permit attacking them with your bare hands.

The look, the sound, the ambiance provided with these speakers and the hastily made, rough looking lame plywood “jesus in a manger” display outside the bank made me feel as though I had arrived in a catholic theme park where pedophile priests will leap out from women’s wear shops and attack your kids at any moment as part of the entertainment.

Some bright spark in the local council thought this muzak was a good idea. Help us all get into the mood. Amplified muzak in shops is one thing but on the street is the claiming of the last refuge from all that shit by “a higher power” i.e. christian councilors or chamber of commerce members who just claim that public space and spray their tasteless sights and sounds at you. It feels like they just want to extinguish any tiny bit of freedom you maybe feeling in public going about your business calmly and quietly. Maybe itʼs a new trend? What next? Cheesy bank advertisements broadcast on every bank holiday? All the other religions getting their shit broadcast marking their holy days? “This is our space” they proclaim from the poles and “fuck you if you donʼt dig it. Suck it up citizen, youʼre in the gulag now.” Happy Christmas

A great article: Forced merriment: The true spirit of Christmas

The Thing About Hens

I love eggs. I love a poached egg on toast. Or I did love an egg.
Trouble is a couple of weeks ago we were given a couple of chooks. Two old boilers. I immediately named them Fiddle and Faddle, because that’s what they do. They fiddle and faddle about the place. They are wonderful to see strolling about and they peck and fuss and carry on.
When they were given to us they didn’t look that great. They were the survivors of a ferret attack. Apparently they had spent some hours dodging a ferret that had gotten into their pen and had killed several other birds. They have since recovered, calmed down and look robust and healthy.
Fantastic, I thought, we will give them a good home and we have plenty of space and a chook run ready to be occupied. They will thrive and be very happy and we will have fresh eggs every day, all organic and stress free.
Trouble is I remembered my agriculture class from school. One day the teacher brought in some dead chooks and before you know it, he had sliced them open and was busily explaining how eggs are made.
All that memory came flooding back. When I look at the chooks constantly pulsating arses and think about their egg production and those eggs coming out of that constantly pumping arse…..I just feel queasy. Suddenly I have a real aversion to eating something from a birds bum.
I know its silly. I will toughen up and get over it. It was just better not having to have a “face to arse” reality check about where eggs come from.
Every day I gather a warm egg fresh from the guts of one of the hens and quietly file it away for the kids school lunch. Perhaps when I can get a dozen saved up I can give some to friends in a carton.
I have started to consider every animal product I am consuming and its means of production. It’s horrifying really. I am sure if I ever visited an abattoir I would never eat meat again.
I think I will become a vegetarian/fruitarian.
Consuming animals and their products seems so…….gross…..disturbing…..carnivorous.

The Pope – what might happen

The pope is coming to visit Pommyland. Oh what joy it will be to see everyone get excited.
All the folks who don’t like him and the RCC will be lined up to either confront, try and arrest him, mock and protest. All his supporters will mutter darkly and leap to his defence and ask for respect and tolerance. They will carry on with points of theology, cultish behavior, medieval practices, arcane incantations.
So exciting to see what he will have to say. The usual condoms are bad, no abortions, no women, no pooftas, no priests allowed to have sex with anybody, sin sin and more sin, straying from the path of righteousness, the need to return to know jesus and through him know god’s love, blah blah, blah? Or maybe something new and thrilling?
I found it embarrassing that all religions want me to enter into an imaginary gay relationship with a dead bloke from the middle east and if I do that I can have another imaginary gay relationship with the bloke that made the universe. Who is the same entity but not really. So confusing and silly really. Well it is a bit gay isn’t it? You must love him beyond all else. etc etc etc.
So wearisome that this nonsense still goes on. Is it just the fear of death that makes people sign up to this stuff? It’s on a par with “if you are not good santa won’t come”.
I thought about ordering one of those papal souvenirs. The customisable church specific mug. I thought it could get”St Buggery” and “Everywhere” printed on it. But the minimum order is 10 and they are 10 quid each and the money goes to support the old blokes trip.
Maybe someone will get to give the pope a pie in the face. Well, he can take a joke can’t he?
Strange how he is going to Pommyland and not hopping over to Ireland. Well there has been “the recent unpleasantness” to consider. All those years of priests behaving badly…Maybe a little to hot in kitchen eh?
It will also be hilarious to see how the other religions in Pommyland go on. The big eyebrowed archbishop Canterbury will have some cheesy sheep like statement. The muslims will have some radical sharia based hysteria whipped up. Lashing themselves into a frenzy and looking for a way to further their own agenda. Talk of interfaith dialogue, pushing back the forces of secularism, the need for respect and renewal….yawn.
Any way its going to be fun to see what happens. Great stuff. Come on pope, give us a good one mate.

Johnny Hartman

Johnny sure had a great voice. He died of lung cancer I read. He was a baritone. He’d sing a tone or a minor third down from published keys which gave that rich deep voice a chance to really have a nice column of air supporting it with a relaxed throat.
A lot of people dig the album he did with Coltrane but Coltrane’s saxophone just sounds out of tune to me. Must be some concept of pitch I’m not getting there.

Frost

A white surprise on the morning ground.
Crisp and clear with a gentle breeze.
Birds are out.
Sun is warming up.
Ice on the car is melting.
Garden is bare and ready to dig.
Truck rumbles by.
The stream murmurs toward the road.
Dark, cold and lively.

Doof poem

I was inspired to write a poem in response to reading my sister Margot’s blog about the doof music she has been enduring.

Revenge Against the Doof

The night was quiet and still as the clock rolled round to ten,
I didn’t have a clue what was about to happen then.
The noise came loud and fast, from the house next door
Doof doof doof doof doof doof doof, it sounded like a war.
Jesus bloody christ! I tripped over the coffee table
I couldn’t even think, I was willing but not able.
What’s that fucking racket? That late night poofta music?
I clutched my head and fell about, feeling oh so sick.
I’ll fix you, you fucking bastards with your backwards beating jive.
You’ll wish you were dead and gone, when I beat you half alive.
No, there’s got to be a better way than a physical assault,
I know, I’ll fight fire with fire and upstairs I did bolt.
I rigged up my PA and placed speakers everywhere
3000 watts of power would give them quite a scare.
I waited until morning, when 6am rolled around.
I was giggling with glee, whilst in my dressing gown.
The sound track to Apocalypse Now, went screaming from every window.
The noise of guns and choppers had nowhere else to go
A deafening din, a barrage of war was sent in their direction.
I was laughing fit to burst, at the cruelty of my selection.
Out they came, their ears and noses bleeding
It’s some serious medical help, those bastards will now be needing.
Deafened by my onslaught, they ran away and hid.
Of those silly dickheads, I was surely rid.
Now my nights are peaceful, and the morons are long gone.
Lot’s of peace and joy as I listen to a quiet song.

So long Doofsters
You’re such a bunch of poofters

Questions I have about the leaders of Iran

What’s the story with the the blokes in charge of Iran?
Do they dig music?
What do they consider fun or good for a laugh?
How do they find the energy to keep all that hate going?
Are they really making or have made a nuclear bomb?
Do they beat their wives?
Do they like women at all?
How do the find the energy to get into all that Jihadist jive?
Where does their president get his cheap looking “suits” made?
Is grey his favourite colour?
Dose he ever wear a tie?
Do they spend all day contemplating Islamic stuff?
Why have they got a bee in their bonnet about the Jews?
Why don’t they invite all the Muslims who live in the west and say they hate it to go and live in Iran?
How do they relax?
Do they ever wonder about having an ice cold beer in the desert?
Do they go swimming?
What do they read?
What kind of cars to they like?
What do they like to eat?

Just wondering.

Sacked For Being Obnoxious

I asked the organizer if there was any chance of a ham sandwich whilst playing a rather long korporate kaper at an american pork producers conference and got sacked for being obnoxious. Gosh! The legend continues. There I go making a mess of things again. I must try and remember to practice being wooden and just shut the fuck up.
I have spent so long now with the mask off I forget to put it back on. Having a laugh is not an option for a lot of folks.
I honestly have a lot of difficulty learning this lesson: No clowning ever. There are a lot of folks taking everything very seriously. I just can’t tell. Maybe its some kind of Tourette’s syndrome.