Society is in the gutter

^ Henry Blofeld

The stray cat on my room got adopted.

on my road, I do mean.

We could sit all day and moan about society and where would it get us. No doubt youths are attacking pensioners across the country, I'll not lose sleep over it though, to each his own.

all well and good on a fine day like today, but i wouldn't be after getting carried away either.

There were purses snatched during communion in ballindine the last day. Communion! And i heard this morning that a girl in kilmeena has gotten herself 'in trouble'. Now, it wasn't the wind she picked that up from so it wasn't.

Maybe kicking a ball in a room can be just as beneficial as kicking one in the road.

i don't really have a problem with assad, people have to do things the way they think best and if its working for him, who am i to judge?

And he is, relatively, still a youngish lad with much to learn. Sometimes we need to let people make a mistake or two along the way and not be quite so quick to criticize

i don't really have a problem with diouf, people have to do things the way they think best and if its working for him, who am i to judge?

And he is, relatively, still a youngish lad with much to learn. Sometimes we need to let people make a mistake or two along the way and not be quite so quick to criticize

The thing about sectarianism is well boys will be boys, me and the little woman had a few of the sectarian lads for tea the other week and they were good as gold

The thing about sectarianism is well boys will be boys, me and the little woman had a few of the sectarian lads round for tea the other week and they were good as gold

I get a lot of pizza leaflets, I am always grateful. It's good to know that the pizza market is so competitive.

I know nothing about the multitude of races and creeds streaming into the UK on a daily basis. No doubt the lot of them are criminals and undesirables, ready to knife a sheep - penis. Yet a quick look at the papers and you might feel our own lot are no better. Discarded cigarette butts outside the bank. Dogs. The lot.

Let them in I say.

steady now

I used to think the IRA were a better class of terrorist however some of these many Hindus who have targeted the west seem reasonable folks. A friend of mine, Ron Knowles, had a similar beard to both the IRA and Hindu terrorists. Ron was no terrorist though, he worked in an abattoir murdering pigs with a bolt gun.

RIP Ron, yet let me reiterate I bear no ill will to the youths who burned you alive. A shame they'll never be released, their whole lives ahead of them.

My car was stolen the other day. At first I was angry but then I thought, no, whoever stole it must have needed it very badly - much more than I will ever know.

And anyway - who needs a car when walking to places helps stop lead poisoning and things?

Right now I'm more concerned that in stealing my car, the perpetrator could catch lead poisoning - he (or she) could be a father (or mother).

its amazing what a good nights sleep will do, put things in perspective for me. sometimes i think we all need a bit of a sleep each night

― post, Wednesday, August 17, 2011 10:51 AM (59 minutes ago) Bookmark

I've had my share of run-ins with society over the years. As a young man I never did understand the need for such a byzantine tangle of rules and regulations; but now I can see, by the very fact that I sit here at this computer, using my hard-won & court-mandated typing proficiency to tell you all this story, that there were some very important things being done in those buildings which it was in society's best interest to keep me from setting alight.

"back to the chair old friend"

30 years ago a child would kick a ball on the street.

all-time.

That you sirs may think we have risen as a society, does not change the fact that we have felt the gutter's warmth, one that will always be there.

Back when the stain of the gutter's refuse had yet to dull our society's bibstraps, a baseball card collection belonged in a child's bicycle spokes, and old dog paws could skitter and scatter, its tongue lolling on a sidewalk-plated fried egg. Yes, the days were hot, but nothing was on fire, nothing was ever on fire in those days, so the hydrants roamed free, across all. But just this morning a car honked at me, as I walked across the freeway, as I am wont to do, and I could not even see the driver through the dirty windshield. I went outside for a breath of the air of my youth and collapsed back onto my bed with lungs greased with the gutter. I went to sleep on unwashed sheets, the sheets of today's society.

why just yesterday I looked at a cat

I don't need to tell you that love doesn't exist in a space as open as the gutter, why, there are two whole sides open

Time was, a man could go out and fall in love, right out there, in society. Grow his beard, as they would say. Now, no one says much anymore, it's quiet there, outside.

i had a 'sweet' potato the other week

Terrible. Why just the other day I asked my grandson how life was for him, I went "Matthew, how are the potatoes of life" and I don't even need to tell you how he responded!

my son asked me for a potato and i gave him a small stone

too soon

thirty years ago it was too late, now all you hear is "too soon, too soon"

http://farm1.static.flickr.com/111/314159278_d8165ee834.jpg

no doubt a pensioner was knifed.

this thread has made me realize who "post" is

i have a guess

sure but who is the little woman

we all had names, I know that much. and if you wanted to figure out someone's place in the world, all you'd have to do was ask him his name. Little Tinker was the mechanic's son. and the milkman's son, he was Splosh, of course. Mrs. Stevens' son Killer, what a gentle boy he was, never hurt a soul in his life, but he marched right up those gallows steps on the day he turned 18, because that was his name, that was his destiny, he never questioned it.

these days you see a group of boys playing kickball in the park, you cry out, "Hey Taco! Ho Huntley! How's the weather down there, little Darby?" and nobody answers. not a peep. maybe they don't have names anymore. maybe they're just numbers, symbols, bleeps and bloops on a mobile telephone. I wouldn't even recognize them anymore.

wau

"Splosh"!!!

At this rate I'm starting to think more children than ever may soon kick a ball in the street. It's a bloody miracle.

Not sure which is better, this or the postman is gay

Yesterday I came across a group of children raising funds to make improvements to the gutters of Society. A little boy with a hook carefully pinned a ribbon on my shirt. My heart was literally warmed.

Friend, the children of today cannot eat cold hearts

Careful, you blink whatever is on your face, and suddenly you begin to call the stains on your unwashed dinner plate the plate itself and the mold that grows upon the stains is called the food. You call your feet your feet, but they no longer can slide into whatever you cover them with because it is not yesterday. "Why," you will say to yourself "just yesterday I wore a pair of shoes." Where are they now, I ask you

why did they put garbage all over thr oad!? and they say the institution is takin gover their foul streets! they would sooner see their own excrement than a clean building!

sometimes I think it's the holidays I miss the most—real, genuine holidays, the sort we used to have, when you'd go to the store with a friend to pick out presents for one another, rip apart the packaging and have a go at them there in the aisles, and not a thing the shopkeeper could do—hell, he was probably right alongside you, joining in the Michaelmas spirit!

course, Society was healthy enough in those days to handle a good scare every now and again. try that sort of thing these days, you're liable to get a swift boot in the jaw from an immigrant with no respect for the traditions of this great nation.

I liek candy

What's happening to buildings- real, proper, buildings? Used to be, you needed an office you built an office, so many bricks high, so many bricks wide, door in front, bob's your uncle. Now every school and hospital has to be run through the modern "art" nazis to feng shui the cure of the roof! It's madness, proper madness! Architects? Just gay engineers, I say!

California-based Cleese, 71, moved to the U.S. more than two decades ago.

What's with the photo accompanying that article, Cleese's head's looks like it's been pasted in from another photo - Terry Gilliam style!

man...

I mean, I love having different cultures around. But when the parent culture kind of dissipates, you're left thinking, "Well, what's going on?"'

Cleese: "What happened? I am confused"

Christ, that's some sad shit...