*Hide gold coins in hollow trees and under rocks
*Carve tiny idols out of bark and set them afloat in puddles
*Jump in circles
*Read the newspaper and drink a cup of coffee
*Volunteer at homeless shelters
*Kill mice and small squirrels for no reason at all
*Gild their beaks and sit abslolutely still in trees
*Shit on your car
*Floss
One day Brother Edward, on one of his many walks around the countryside, happened to enter Hell, which was located in a cave near the three standing stones at Marlburgh (you can still see soot in the roof of the cave and, on windy days, hear the screams of the damned). It was raining, and he went into the cave seeking shelter, expecting to find at most a bear or a deranged hermit, both of which he had dealt with in the past with the help of the small bottle of brandy he always carried with him.
Imagine his surprise, then, when upon entering the cave he was greeted by none other than that old deceiver of men, the Devil, who was sitting at a table so filled with the most delicious-looking food imaginable that some of the lesser delicacies were in danger of falling off the table (most notably, he later recounted, a large bunch of grapes which was hanging off the edge of the table and a big red cheese which was only kept from falling to the floor by a minor demon, who was propping it up with a pitchfork).
"Won't you share my meal, Brother Edward?" the Devil said, waving a leg of mutton in the general direction of a second chair on the opposite side of the table.
"No thank you," Brother Edward said, "I'd rather just eat this piece of stale bread which I brought with me, if you don't mind."
The Devil, being the prince of Lies, could not say that he did mind, seeing as that would have been the truth, so instead he said "Well, won't you at least sit down?" (since questions don't have a truth value, he felt quite safe saying anything as long as it was framed as a question).
"No thank you," Brother Edward said, "I'd rather keep standing, if you don't mind."
A little known fact about Pope Urban IV (1195–1264) is that he liked to juggle eggs more than anything in the world. When, in 1261, after his election (he was the first pope to be elected without first having served as cardinal. This is believed to be the reason his egg juggling was not discovered earlier), he tried to gather support for a crusade against the Byzantine emperor Michael VIII Palaialogos in order to restore the Latin Empire of Constantinople, he was, in fact, standing on his head on the papal chair, juggling twelve freshly boiled eggs. His appeal met with very little support, and the crusade did not take place.
One morning, upon waking, I found myself transformed into a crocodile. After some initial trouble adjusting to my new situation (I dropped my favourite teacup on the floor), I found that living in a crocodilian state was not without advantages. I could swim effortlessly through water, break the legs of a full grown wildebeest with a single sweep of my tail, and hide at the water's edge by taking on the appearance of a waterlogged piece of lumber.
I took up residence in a small pond in a local park, and before long I had become something of a local celebrity. People would feed me breadcrumbs and pieces of sausages, small children would ride on my back, and pensioners would challenge me to friendly games of chess. All would have been well, if not for the rapid approach of winter. I decided it was time to leave for warmer climes and stowed away in a crate of potatoes, which I belived would be exported to Madagascar, or possibly Tortuga.
After a long journey and a series of comical misadventures, I found myself on the moon.
I Think The Guy's A Swede
I thought this was pretty neat. Lookee! (It's a YouTube video. But I don't know how to embed.)
Short posts now. Fear not, soon I will slip my surly bonds for a few months, maybe then we can kick some life into this old horse.
The Silent Crowd Opens Its Lips To Speak
It strikes me, you know, that it's been a while. Well, I have something for you. Perhaps you haven't seen it. It's the art gallery of one Tomasz Marónski.
My favorite picture is this one.
I’m not going to make a habit of posting youtube videos here, but this is really one of the seven best things ever. All right, twelve.
(also link to same)
This is a very Badgerlike setting. You should like it. (I felt like posting something, just to prove we're not all dead. Or in the case of some of us, at least not more dead than usual.)
“As you can see,” the philosopher said, “this barrel of apples, which we all agreed was full, nevertheless had room for a whole sack of rice and, after that, for a bucket of sand. This shows that our preconceived notions about the state of things should never be accepted without questioning.”
“Now I can't sell the apples,” the fruitmonger said, “and tonight I won’t be able to eat the rice. You have brought ruin upon me with your philosophy!”
On re-reading an essay I’ve written about cooperation and reader interaction in literature, I found the following passage:
...it is possible to imagine a reader who does not like books with talking animals in them and will put any such book down after reaching the first example of their pet peeve.I didn't mean it, I promise!
If a man throws himself out of the fourth floor window, and you can't make a sketch of him before he gets to the ground, you will never do anything big.
Eugène Delacroix
I took the liberty of updating the theme to the new, easily-customized version. Unfortunately, I can't help thinking that it looks a lot worse than it used to (the post titles weren't underlined before, were they? And I don't know how to turn it off, either).
If somebody wants to fix it nobody will be happier than me (well, maybe the pope, but nobody else), but I'm starting to suspect that it wouldn't be completely unthinkable to chose an entirely new theme. Specifically, one wider than 700 pixels. We're living in the future, after all.
“Then I saw the host of angels; their wings were like the wings of grasshoppers, and when they rubbed their wings together, this was the music of the spheres, which I had heard in my dreams, and which I hear today, in the sound of this wondrous instrument of Monsieur Sax's creation.”
An extract from the diary of Ms Saunders. The first page is missing.
My Hypnagogic Memory Could Be Better
OK, here's how it is: I once saw a painting of the Jardin des Plantes. (I really couldn't tell you which Jardin des Plantes, but I would assume the Paris one.) I liked the picture. So, of course, I lost it. I can't remember the title, and I can't remember the artist's name. Annoying, but, you know, these things, they happen. Gravel along the roadside.
So, last night, I dreamt I was at an IKEA, and after buying a cheap misbound Rocky comic and a huge spool of strawberry cable I took to Wikipedia to while away the time waiting in line at the register (despite there being no line). Upon which I discovered the painter's name! I had just made a trivial misspelling, failing to duplicate a syllable. Then I woke up, and of course I can't remember the damn name anymore, but neither can I get the whole thing out of my head, now.
Whence this post; I turn to you, fellow Badgers and hypothetical other readers, for aid. Help me find the picture! Help me solve the riddle! (Of DOOM.) Some hints along the way, incidentally comprised of everything I know:
Well, what do you know?* We did manage three posts in January.
I suggest that we try to do even better this month, and aim for a dazzling, staggering three posts per week. Starting next week, of course. One wouldn't want to overexert oneself, now would one?**
And yes, this is the first hint of a conspiracy to get us to post three times every second in June.
Footnotes:
*) This is a rhetorical question, but if you actually want to tell me what you know you are of course welcome.
**)This, on the other hand, is a genuine request for observations on whether one would, in fact, want to overexert oneself.
I dreamt that I was on an airplane, flying somewhere (as you might expect). We were told that there would be sushi for dinner, because that was the only food they'd remembered to bring. After a while, somebody brought me a large number of small paper bags, which I thought would contain the various pieces of fish and other things to go with the rice. This turned out not to be the case; the paper bags turned out to contain small pieces of the menu, and we were only allowed to order something if we had a corresponding menu piece.
All of my pieces contained the same drawing of a small octopus, and when I tried to trade them with the people sitting next to me I found out there was no wasabi on the plane. After hearing this, I said "what's the use?" and woke up.
It Is Time We Faced Up To The Future
The blog has now been upgraded to New Blogger. I don't know whether any of you have omitted it (Kusch and Light, I am looking in your direction), but upgrading your Blogger account seems necessary to write, now, because Blogger has attained level 50 and evolved into Future Blogger. Well, bully for it, I say!
It puts us that much closer to Catching Them All.
It is said that the fourth Emperor of Dawn, having ascended to the throne under somewhat mysterious circumstances, attempted to strengthen his position by always acting in a way that befitted an emperor. He not only tried to emulate his thre predecessors by sending his opponents into exile (sometimes after cutting off their noses, but according to court rumours he could not stand the sight of blood and consequently let most of the thus sentenced keep their noses as long as they promised to wear the traditional mask of the de-nasiated), but also took up some of the customs af the Philosopher Kings who preceded them. One such custom, which is believed to have contributed to his downfall, was the awarding of prestigious court titles to friends, relatives and supporters.
He lost the support of the troops when he failed to give the position of Prime Minister to his senoir general, instead giving it first to Nyaga Shingu, the famous white elephant, and, after the unfortunate death of the animal, to his favourite teapot.
