... and there is ...

... a time to dance ...

There's ...

... a time to cry ...

Wordy Wednesday III

Another Wordy Wednesday then. And as it is known latest since Donna Hightower's 'This World is a Mess': Why not on a Thursday?

Unlike last week today I shall listen to my stomach (German idiom). And this is what my stomach said the other week: Careful, Sean. Less is more.

Thus, instead of ten remarkable postings and perhaps too much reading stuff, tonight I do commend just five. Here we go:

1. To help us getting in the right mood for this year's Olympic Games, The Little Man let us for 7:04 minutes feel the wonderful spirit of those Olympic Games 72 years ago the 'leaders' of China are absolutely determined to surpass.

2. This is a great pleasure for me. Very probably he will leniently smile when reading 'this man is no blogger; he is a poet'. But that is what he is.
To visit his site every morning has (almost) become a ritual. And I am glad, Floots gave me permission to 'pinch' one of his recent gems. Here it is:

Now, is that poetry?!

3. Back to prosa. Late, only yesterday night, I noticed Ian Appleby's latest post: No nukes are good nukes. As (almost) always: Thought provoking.

4. And now to my badly neglected friend Erkan who's output is such amazing that one could daily spend hours on his site. To cut it short: I do admire his professionalism, his wonderful friendliness - and, just to make him happy - I wish Besiktas to become Turkish champion. :) Some days ago Erkan put the focus on following question: Should Wilders become censored?

5. And finally, a painting by the poet I introduced you to the other week: Janice Thomson. It's to be found on her second blogsite: Gray Sky Over Mountains.

And now, I hope to have found a nice little mixture. Enjoy, and have a marvellous week - until next 'Wordy Wednesday' - and if it will happen to be a Friday. :)

A coffee for The Poor Mouth

Hard times. :) Only five days after his birthday, Jams O'Donnell, master of The Poor Mouth, celebrates his blog's second anniversary.

Congratulations, Jams, and voilà, as promised, here's your anti-hangover-coffee.

By turning the mug you'd, of course, read:

When health is bad and your heart feels strange,
And your face is pale and wan,
When doctors say that you need a change,
A PINT OF PLAIN IS YOUR ONLY MAN.

Wanderers Night Song

Today's evening thought, posted by the famous Khan Semaj Mahgih spontaneously reminded me of Wandrers Nachtlied / Wanderers Night Song by Goethe.

Über allen Gipfeln

Ist Ruh',
In allen Wipfeln
Spürest du
Kaum einen Hauch.
Die Vöglein schweigen im Walde.
Warte nur, balde
Ruhest du auch.

Over all peaks
Reigns calm,
In all treetops
Senseth thou
Barely a breath.
The birdies keep silent in the wood.
Simply wait, soon
Resteth thou, too.

translated by McSeanagall :)

Flann fooled you, folks

I'll not tell which pseudonym he does currently prefer, but I may again say those few people still taking for granted Flann O'Brien died April 1st 1966, can look back on a remarkable long career as April fools.

Fact is, furthermore, that only last midnight Flanny, Tetrapilotomos and I as well as a certain chap who asked to remain incognito met in, at and around Seanhenge, having some pints of plain and, of course, at one stage of our vivid conversation Flann would raise his voice and not only enjoy our ears, hearts and grey cells but animate the rami zygomatici and rami buccales of nervus facialis to massively innervate our musculi risorii by declaiming following legendary dialogue:

The Plain People of Ireland: Isn't the German very like the Irish? Very guttural and so on?

Myself: Yes.

The Plain People of Ireland: People say that the German language and the Irish language is very guttural tongues.

Myself: Yes.

The Plain People of Ireland: The sounds is all guttural do you understand.

Myself. Yes.

The Plain People of Ireland: Very guttural languages the pair of them the Gaelic and the German.

* * *

And now - although it is most unlikely they exist - to all those who happen to not being in possession of the master's complete œvre: Saddle your ponies, folks, and hurry up. The friendly, most well-educated and -sorted bookseller just round the corner will be happy to fill the gaps of your education and in your bookshelf.

How to avoid a fight

28

Hat tip to The Poor Mouth.
By the way, despite yesterday's little indisposedness, Jams would have 'fought off' 25 sweet dwarfish sunshines. Seems both we are bugbears of not the lowest order.

Well, that's, of course, but dull theory. There is no such battle to happen, even in case the gang of dwarfs called their giant brothers via mobile for help.

All I need say: Come on you boys, let's first conjugate fight.
And off they run, screaming in panic.
Ask my nephews.

Happy Birthday, Jams

As regularly readers do know, The Poor Mouth and Omnium have quite a few in common. And so have Jams O'Donnell (photo) and I.

There is but one tiny difference: Jams is exactly 20 years younger than John Major, and this will always remain, which is remarkable, but ... I shall always remain 28 years younger than Maggie Thatcher. :)

Hm, or is it rather another kind of coincidence?

To cut a long story short: Today Jams has become as young as I became nine years ago, which means he is now exactly one sixth younger than I am, which will - and herein I do find a great comfort - not remain. :)

In this spirit: Happy birthday, Jams!

My present for you: The legendary bicycle,

and my favourite Irish blessing:

May the devil not catch you before I shoot you!

I am looking forward us together celebrating your 104th! :)

Sláinte!

Wordy Wednesday II

Do I need say my 'seldom boring' favourite bloggers are worth daily visits? Thus, it's a bit difficult to pick one of their postings for a 'Wordy Wednesday' to recommend reading it; the more as I wish to at least now and then introduce you to 'other' bloggers who are both on my blogline and seldom boring, whom I'd not have asked my 'question of courtesy', yet. :)

May today's 'top ten' find your interest; and, please: In case whenever what you are going to read is able to provoke a thought - don't be as 'bloody lazy' as I am. Write down your thought(s); leave a comment. :)

Here we go:

- Antipasti, anyone? Help yourself. :)

- Now you back, starched by the Sicilian viands Lady Limoncello is generously offering her visitors when she and Simi are not living adventures at the post office or kissing the driver of the water lorry - that is, in case he comes; not sure either Simi would kiss him :) ...

- ... you will have the required energy to read lots of 'stuff' you will find here.
Stop!! :) Before you are heading off, one big request: Please read thoroughly, don't miss the comments, and please, follow the links offered by James, especially the one to the Flying Rodent, who will get another commendation, later on.
:) Hm, I think this should do for now. Thus, I shall not give you all links necessary to take fully delight in the comment of the blogosphere's politest 'Anon'. :)

- Amongst many excellent postings by Jams O'Donnell who, by the way, is not 'just' seldom boring but a 'natural part of Omnium', as you will be easily able to understand by reading his profile :) , I chose this one.
It's about what once the Olympic idea was about. And immediately many many pictures in my mind. Only to mention two: Abebe Bikila winning the Rome Marathon (1960) on his bare feet; and Eddy 'the Eagle' who would have won Gold in Calgary (1988), had the competition been cancelled after the first starter of the second heat had safely landed. :)

- Ardent chose a topic letting my blood boil whenever it comes / is brought to my mind, which is why I did here not yet focus on it. No introduction. But I can tell you I am writing this with my clenched fists.

- Hey, hey, Sean, what's about something light, for a change, I hear you sigh. :) All right.
Here's another tale 'my' Turkish Seanachie, the inimitable Super Hero via keyboard let flow into the blogosphere. I am glad at least the fish was good. :)

And now, may I introduce you to the most recent 'part of Omnium'? It's a Lady who's Drinking the Moon , able to express in but a few words wherefore an ordinary mortal like me would mostly need at least fifty sentences. :)

Thanks for the precious gem you found
in the realm of letters, Lady Janice. :)

- Internation Musing will let your inner peace pidgeon start cooing with delight when reading what some extraordinary pious protagonists of the most peaceful religion to find in all known galaxies and those galaxies yet to discover recently asked their humble and decent followers to do in order to transform this planet into an oasis of love and harmony.

- According to one of my maximes (Audiatur et altera pars) now you will get 'two in one'. One event, two opinions. Voilà: Here is the Flying Rodent with what he calls an Incredibly unpopular opinion (please do not miss to follow his updated link!!); and here an Egyptian Lady on the same event from her point of view.

Last not least quasi a belated thanks to Chris who would not have known that I took this very post as an antedated birthday present. Over listening several times I forgot telling him then. :)


And here we are again: Sean the lazy commenter. Thus, follow my commendations but not my example. :)

Above all, enjoy!

The Peace of the Night.

Just a short note

Ladies, gentlemen, friends.

Friday morning I got up, felt ill,
after hours went down to mother-in-law
and asked for a pill.

Afterwards I visited little brother death,
i.e. I slept all day, all night,
fortunately woke up again,
feeling slightly allright.

McSeanagall

This short note just to let you know it seems not impossible that I'll be back soon. :)

May health be on you.

Experiment failed

Trial and error.

I thought I could easily write about 15, 20 subjects within a couple of hours.

I failed.

Still, I think I'll forgive myself and sleep well.

Hope you will, too. :)

The Peace of the Night.

Wishing long rotting testicles

You want to get rid of your husband/wife or any other rival; of a neighbour whose nose you dont't like, your mother-/father/brother-/sister-in law. Lucky you are when living in China.

It's people's war, folks. 'High noon' for 'informers'. Ah, denunciation. Ah, how wonderful. A highlight of civilisation.

The Dalai Lama? Oh well. (Almost) always smiling and friendly. Playing 'his role' almost perfectly.
What "His always smiling Peacefulness" would not say: Tibet was not heaven before 1950. Buddhism is not peace-loving 'per se'.

But it's quite logic what happens.

You can supress people for many years, many generations of them; it may last 50 years, hundred years, several hundred years - somewhen the day will come!

Well, I wish to the Chinese government and especially to all those regional criminals who are terrorizing what they think are 'their' people, the same I wish to Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld et. al.: may they become several hundreds years old and may their testicles be painfull rotting all the time.

Yes, I am humanist. Yes, I do like people. In general.
And I am still not swearing, would you agree? :)

A journalistic Hiroshima

What is another's accident, is the other's catastrophe.

No problem with this.

No problems either when people who would not care about (catch-)words, do call an accident 'catastrophe'.
Let alone they have not been taught/told: Very often such 'uneducated' persons are wiser than those who think they got the best education one could get under the sun.

But when journalists who - in my (in this case not) humble opinion - should know better, do call an explosion the Albanian Hiroshima and an Apocalyptic tragedy, they should give up their profession.

Mind: Those who lost beloved, may call what happened whatever comes to their mind. But journalists who would dare to write such rubbish are poor idiots*.

* not in the classical sense. May any idiot sue me. It will be my pleasure.

And be sure, I could give you thousands of examples for (embedded*) idiocy.
But please don't ask me to give them.. I am tired. Really tired.
On the other hand: As long as millions of those who are allowed to vote - come on, here's a chance to severely attack me :))) -, would spoil money to buy such excellent papers / to watch such super mega TV-channels, it's a market, would you agree?

* here I am not refering to those journalists who'd go in bed with the 'devil' for what they - or rather their masters call a good story, but to something general: education.

Ah, another trap I digged for myself. Okay: education is a 'hot field'. Who would set the canon? What if the pupil does not wish to listen to the teacher(s); to the parents (who may have had good or bad teachers)? Who defines what's a bad teacher?
Should teachers teach what has been thought, or should they teach inspire thinking?

Rhetoric question. Yes. Sorry about such a simplicity.

Anybody who thinks s(h)e has a simple / the one and only answer to the problem: Very welcome!