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(I know, I know, but it's the way we diarylanders have done it for generations.)

2014-04-23 20:24

Pinky's song

[Mixed media: photography, verse, subcutaneous terror]

Be patient, O my mice!
Be delicious and patient!
I shall come for you!
I shall harvest you in the night
and in the nights to come

Be of good cheer, my mice
In the time
albeit brief
remaining to you

O mice!
O meaty payloads of future pellets!
Let me free you from flesh's captivity
and separate your ephemeral juices
from your husky, skeletal, true form

May I suggest you worship me?
It will not lessen the agony,
when your time comes
nor diminish the anguish
but perhaps it may offer you
a sense of purpose

2014-04-17 19:57


At last the occupying forces are expelled
And our people chafe no more beneath the Calif's yoke.
To mark this occasion let us build a fleet
Of swift boats to roam the seas' widths
In search of gold-rich lands

And peoples we can seriously fuck up.

CHORUS: Sounds about right to us.

2014-04-14 21:00


1. As if Sunday wasn't enough

The shops in town tend to be shut on Monday morning, too. Now that we are relieved from daddy-duty on Monday mornings but not yet back at work on them, this is a minor source of first-world problematics. We cycled the heavy two-child-seat-and-a-basket bike into town to go to the Italian delicatessen, and it was shut.

And then we cycled back in the rain.

2. Economies of logistics

Our favourite food, these days, is sossage and bean casseroles. Simple peasant food.

But these days, the logistics of preparing a stew - even with a slow cooker or "crock pot" - mostly outweigh the expense of more expensive cuts of meat that can be prepared quicker.

The peasant cook's one luxury - of time - is the one we crave. (We do not otherwise crave a peasantular existence, for sure. And we did make a fine sossage casserole today.)

3. All the young dudes eat allochthone foods.

Sometimes our hobby is reading Spiegel Geschichte. The current issue is on the Mayaztecincas (or whoever) of Central-South America (or wherever).

Who variously invented potatoes, maize, tomatoes and tobacco as well as thoughtfully creating some Lost Temples for the Gilded Yoof of our era to stomp on on the gap years while bonding over chats about the children's TV programming of their youth.

And then there are the tulips and carrots that came in from Turkey or the Silk Road, and the Popular Middle-Eastern Death Cult that was the religion of choice for most of the middle ages (which, we side with the late Jacques le Goff, lasted until the French Revolution), and you wonder exactly what it is that the defenders of Europe against its would-be defilers are really defending.

Turnips, gingers and mud? Not much of a manifesto, really, in our considered. And we bet there are other places with mud if it comes to that.

4. The Pied-Piper and the Snow-White witch are working together

There are little floating wooden houses in the drainage canals that criss-cross our suburb.

It turns out that they are rat traps. There are apples in them, and when the rats venture in they weigh the traps down, so that water comes in, the traps sink, and the rats drown.

I don't know who's doing it, but I strongly urge that we pay them promptly.

2014-04-08 20:00


1. Modernist head asplode

A snake came to my water-trough on a hot, hot day
But never an ape or a bear.

2014-04-07 20:19

I know, but I really did eat the chutney?

I have finished the jar of chutney
that had been sitting in the fridge for the last six years.
It wasn't that bad, considering,
but I'm not in any rush to replace it.

BTW, have you seen the plums I was saving for breakfast?
I can't seem to find them anywhere.

2014-04-07 20:06

When I hear the word "culture" I reach for my Happy Meal(TM)

Oh let us ask them "how much is it?"
Before we go and pay a visit.
But when it's Dutch Museum Day,
There's - just this once - no need to pay.

We went to the Noordelijk Scheepvaartmuseum, where we haven't been since we were courting the Countess.

It's a cramped dark and eclectic place, full of awkward wooden staircases going up and awkward wooden staircases going down. In the ancient tradition of the Netherlands they claim that Groningen (in this case, but see also Zwolle, Deventer and others) was totally an important member of the Hanseatic league but for some reason there are no architectural traces of this and their bookshop has - like all bookshops in the country, as far as I can tell - no books on the Hanse at all.

Still. And just down the road there's the comics museum, which wasn't free and is said to be disappointingly textual, and its associated McDonalds.

(We went to a Burger King one time in Blighty. It was like McDonalds implemented by people who didn't understand what they were trying to do and unable to care that they were Doing It Wrong. Embarrassing stuff.)

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