Well fancy seeing you here...

Hello and welcome to the rambling rollercoaster of useless ponderings, strung together in what the internet calls a "blog," and the voices call a waste of everyone elses time.

Please check your sanity at the door (along with your dignity, logic, principles, good taste and prejudices against daftness.)

"I am here to seduce you into a love of life; to help you to become a little more poetic; to help you die to the mundane and to the ordinary so that the extraordinary explodes in your life." -Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh

Monday, 19 May 2008

A Childhood Memoir of Alien Parsley

"Alien Threat To Truffle Delicacy."

That was the title of a BBC News article today. The BBC is misleading. I read it fully expecting to hear that we had not only been contacted by extra-terrestrial life forms whilst I slept: but that they had been taken to our leader and had told the Queen that they were going to exterminate ostentatious fungi. It was nothing of the sort; it was just an article about a non-native species of truffle that is threatening the growth of the Perigord species more commonly found on European soil.

Thus, I began today disappointed.

Things looked just as uninspiring when I heard that scientists have launched facial-recognition software in China to try and prevent underage teenager from purchasing tobacco products with fake identification. The machines are designed to analyse wrinkles and skin sacks to estimate age. The BBC Health correspondent seemed quite positive about this idea, so I must be the only one who thinks this technology to be useless. It is scientifically proven that smoking cigarettes causes premature ageing - so people are going to look old enough to buy fags even if they are not! Especially as so many teenagers are addicted to tanning salons and sun-beds. That also causes skin damage, which would indicate age beyond their years. So thirteen tear-olds would probably qualify for a bus pass, not just cigarettes.

Today was made much more interesting when I saw this: Snackerjack a very cool video of a snake in an Indian zoo that had swallowed a deer whole and was too heavy to move.

I was listening to Morrissey's album 'You Are The Quarry' today and it had me wondering how his future live performances of the song 'America Is Not The World' will vary if either Barrack Obama or Hilary Clinton win the US Presidential election. Particularly the lyric:

"In America, the land of the Free, they say
the land of opportunity / in a Just and Truthful way.
But where the president
is never black, female or gay
and until that day
you've got nothing to say to me / to help me believe."

If the president is indeed 'black or female' as appears to be the choice, then will that mean that Morrissey is on speaking terms with America? Or will he choose to ignore America for a bit longer to see if America will buckle and text him first? He can be quite a contrary Mary when he wishes to be. That's not a reference to Morrissey's ambiguous sexuality, merely a comment on his recalcitrant demeanour by means of a play on a nursery rhyme. If he is indeed as gay as everyone believes him to be in the worlds-most-open-secret, then he should run in the next election and destroy his song completely upon Uncle Sam landing the hat trick. (If it's not as open a secret as I thought it was, then now you know - but really, if you weren't already aware of it then you are probably the sort of character who could end up as Mayor of London.)

I have just heard on the news that Obama looks as though he will win in Oregon. That always makes me think of oregano, and then tarragon, and then 'Mr Onion and The Chives' from the children's animated TV series 'The Herbs,' by Michael Bond. (Who was the creator of Paddington Bear.) I loved Parsley the Lion, because he was cute but very droll and ironic. He didn't speak, but his thoughts were narrated. The secret word that opened the door to the the garden was the distinctly 70's sounding "herbidacious."

The Herbs: (From top rigt: Parsley the Lion, Dill the Dog, Sage the Owl. Bottom from right: Mr Onion, The Chives, Tarragon the Dragon.)

I had to try and write some information down today whilst on the phone, and after finally discovering a notepad amid the clutter, I realised that I couldn't find a pen. This is unremarkable in itself, but I am always losing pens. I don't know where they all go, but there is never one to hand no matter how many I buy. If I had Hyperthymesia then I might be able to remember where I put them all. Hyperthymesia, or 'Hyperthymestic Syndrome,' is the rare medical condition that has been attributed to an American woman called Jill Price, who can remember almost every single day since she was fourteen. Hyperthymestics can remember events they have personally experienced, or had emotional reactions to. For example: she knows what she had for tea on the day that Charles married Diana, and what colour dress she was wearing on the day Elvis was found dead. I can't even remember where I left a Bic biro. (Blatant product placement there, in case anyone from bic wants to send me a lifetimes supply. I need them. The same goes for Berol and Pentel, please. Damn, now I've cancelled it out. Rules of advertising say you have to give three examples to avoid granting a company preferential treatment. I'll just have to go to Woolworth's tomorrow. I wish we still had a John Menzies in the High Street.)

I have also discovered a newfound appreciation of the phrase 'curiosity killed that cat,' only I have a slight amendment to the alley-cat allegory. I think the cat learned of a secret, and got so frustrated with knowing that there was something it didn't know, that it either committed suicide out of frustration, or was murdered for discovering the truth (though this option is only likely if it either lived in Midsummer, or near Gil Grissom in Vegas.)

Let's hope that Kat's are studier creatures with a few more lives. Otherwise this could be the last entry. In which case: the butler did it, in the library with a candlestick! (...But it was to an un-named Royal and the case was dropped.)

I leave you in the company of Parsley the Lion.


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