Potato,Potahto

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Well, I warned you- change and mayhem. With the world reeling at the prospect of President The Donald, I hope my offering of puppies and rainbows and peonies will calm you down somewhat. The recent US election campaign has been incredible. It’s the most honest campaign I’ve ever seen because for the first time ever, the game has been laid bare. The electorate was offered only 2 choices- worse or worser, to coin a phrase. This has been going on for decades but it has never been so transparent before. The people saw right through it and decided to give the establishment a bloody nose. However. no matter who you vote for, the government always gets in. Doubtless, they’re already regrouping to see how they can manipulate someone much less malleable than Hilary would have been. Still, man proposes and God disposes. We shall see what we shall see. He doesn’t need money, fame or success. He’s already been exposed as a male chauvinist pig and there is no reputation to protect. I am very interested to see what he might be tempted to sell his soul for, unless of course it’s already in hock in which case it’s a simple matter of collecting a debt. Conspiracy, ahoy 🙂

IMHO, people didn’t so much vote for Trump as against Hilary and what they perceived rightly or wrongly as a seriously corrupt establishment class. This class never learn and constantly underestimate the anger of the general public because of course, they have little or no contact with that public. It’s the same reason why people voted for Brexit and look what’s happening there – they’re trying to nullify 33 million votes and saying that the votes of 650 people can overrule the referendum. If they don’t get the result they want, they just resort to skulduggery and cheating. I’m always amused when we send observers to elections in developing countries. Talk about ‘Physician, heal thyself’. Sooner or later, they’ll attempt to do away with democracy because too many people are wide-awake now. Things are about to get very interesting indeed. If I were President Trump, I would invest in some top-notch independent security. He should ask Hilary for some numbers; the mercenaries they’ve been using in Syria and Iraq (sorry, ISIS militia) could be just the ticket 🙂

And if you’re worried about The Donald, we’ve had worse in the past. Who could forget Danforth Quayle with his ‘potatoe’ and Dubya with his ‘Some of our children is not learning’. A Yale education, natch. Oh and by the way, just in case anyone cares, Guantanamo Bay is still open with business as usual. Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose. For the more frivolous, I offer the following advert outside a taqueria:

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For the even more delinquent among my readers, I offer the following courtesy of my brother Wolix:

 

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C2H5OH. You know it makes sense (hic! hoc!!)

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Wisdom vs Knowledge

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It has been ages since I’ve had the time to post – how have you all been surviving??? No need to despair, I’m back. Quit that sniggering at the back. I’m on holiday. The nicest phrase in the English language, bar none. I was hoping to go away, but the best laid plans of mice and men….

I was hoping to go to Miami but that did not pan out. I decided that it was probably not a good idea anyway- it’s my birthday on Wednesday when the results of the election will be released. I’m not sure that my sense of humour and gun-toting, angry Americans are a good mix. Talk about your lose-lose election. I was in the US when the Oklahoma bombing occurred, I was there on 9/11. I think I’ll sit this one out. November 9 is a day of change and general mayhem anyway, as befits the day on which one of my gargantuan ego graced the world with her arrival. Tin hats on, that’s my advice.

Today, I’m featuring the work of  couple of artists who caught my eye lately. The watercolours are by Angela Hewitt who is based on the Isle of Wight. I like her line very much. She also makes cards and accessories etc. Check her out. Emma West makes the most beautiful porcelain and ceramic tiles in Cornwall. I particularly like the ones made with impressions of wildflowers. Really nice work. If you’re renovating your bathroom or kitchen, have a look at her work.

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On a lighter note, I see that there is an exhibition showing Tracey Emin and William Blake’s work side by side. How I laughed. That’s just cruelty, that is. At least it wasn’t Tracey Emin and Guido Reni.

Blake, William; Our Lady with the Infant Jesus Riding on a Lamb with Saint John; Paintings Collection; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/our-lady-with-the-infant-jesus-riding-on-a-lamb-with-saint-john-30607

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Well, it all adds to the gaiety of the nations. Art is in the eye of the beholder. I know many people who would rather have the Emin than the Reni, so what do I know? Different strokes and all that.

In the spirit of getting older if not wiser, I share with you one of my favourite sayings- Knowledge is knowing that the tomato is a fruit and not a vegetable; Wisdom is knowing not to put it in a fruit salad. Toodle pip.

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All The Kingdoms of the World

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Got a precious day off, although of course, I’m still doing some work stuff–as usual. The work never seem to be quite as arduous in the silent comfort of my own home, so I don’t really mind. Anyway, I had the time to flick through my design emails and I found one from LuxurySafes. They are always good for a laugh; they brought us the gold-plated safe that was so ornate and expensive, I suggested you needed another safe to store it in.(See here http://www.alaraapothecary.com/?p=3950)

Today’s missive was about a set of golf clubs from Bentley, under the tongue-in-cheek headline ‘Golf clubs to die for’. And I thought, “Really? Would anyone die  for a set of swanky golf clubs?” My first instinct was to laugh but it got me thinking about the worthless stuff we all think is so important and go to such lengths to accumulate. I know that of which I speak; I’m a champion hoarder. Bigger picture – what about the stuff we compromise ourselves for– that job, that car, that promotion, that boy, that girl. It’s quite disheartening to see what poor bargains we get for losing our souls. So, what is worth dying for? And I don’t mean what is worth killing for? They are different things. It would seem that there is nothing so small that one person won’t consider killing another for it, as our newspapers readily attest. What shall it profit a man if he should gain the whole world but lose his soul?

He is a fool who gives away what he cannot replace for that which he cannot keep. All the lovely, shiny stuff and the lovely, happy people will not exist one day, yet we grasp and hanker. Even worse is the unattainable stuff — I want his looks, her brains, his birthright. I’m just as bad as everyone else but luckily, I haven’t been made an offer that I cannot refuse… yet  🙂 The tawdry baubles on offer are laughable. I would expect to be Empress of the Universe in return for selling my soul – at least!. So, saved by overweening conceit, who woulda thunk 🙂

So, here endeth the lesson for today. I will try to recognise the tinsel and the glitter for what it is and do all the good that I can while I can. I’m exhaused already just thinking about it, slacker that I am. I leave you with Shelley’s Ozymandias:

I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

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Doctor Feelgood

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In a week when the papers have been full of what can only be described as ‘feelbad’ news, I’m so glad that I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to focus on any of it. From the mother who insisted that her 4-year old was a girl and dressed him, and treated him accordingly, with the social workers being too scared of challenging the current orthodoxy to actually ask the child what he thought: 3 years later, he’s thoroughly confused about his identity and hates his own body. The number of children in the sole care of a single parent whose sanity is at best questionable is truly terrifying. Those poor children are force-fed any number of lies and beliefs that the parent sees fit to disseminate; I have met quite a few of them. They’ve been subjected to brainwashing techniques that would make the North Korean government gasp in admiration, and find it very difficult to think for themselves.

Then we had the woman who waged a war of attrition against one of  the other school-gate mothers because she believed her daughter had been excluded from a birthday party. It eventually culminated in her phoning through a hoax terrorist attack in an attempt to frame her victim. The people with snakes in their heads, that’s how I think of them. They are astonishing. She wasn’t satisfied that she had managed to totally isolate her victim by waging a very effective misinformation campaign against her; presumably she wouldn’t be satisfied until her victim was in prison or dead. It’s that bit that amazes me – the sheer pitilessness. The victim can never suffer enough to satisfy whatever dark craving consumes the lunatic who’s targeting them.

Quite frankly, the only amusing story this week was that of the man who allegedly shoplifted a set of Venetian blinds, stuffing them in his trousers and hoodie in a cunning manner. In my new merciful frame of mind, I have cropped the picture so you can’t see his face.1a

I’m sure you’ll agree the blinds are totally inconspicuous 🙂 The comments from the public on seeing the picture included “It’ll be curtains for him now”. That’s why I love British newspapers so much. I leave you with some beautiful stuff to cheer up your weekend, and some of my favourite jokes from this year’s Edinburgh Festival:

“My dad has suggested that I register for a donor card. He’s a man after my own heart.” Masai Graham

“Why is it old people say ‘there’s no place like home’, yet when you put them in one …” Stuart Mitchell

“Is it possible to mistake schizophrenia for telepathy, I hear you ask.” Jordan Brookes

“I spotted a Marmite van on the motorway. It was heading yeastbound.” Roger Swift

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The Sound Of Silence

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Last week was thoroughly exhausting- I spent most of it on a course being bombarded with information. Actually, the course was pretty useful – it was all stuff I needed to know and would use all the time – a rarity as I’m sure you’ll agree. Even more extraordinary, pretty much all my fellow attendees were really nice. Still, by the end of the week, I was all people’d out, if you see what I mean. I couldn’t wait to get home and return to work. Obviously a cunning masterplan devised by companies to keep employees in line.

The journey back was a 3-hour nightmare. I stood all the way home — Great Western Railway, you suck! Where was Jeremy Corbyn when I needed him?  🙂 Even better, I had the mother of all nosebleeds; I do have a tendency to getting them but I haven’t had one of such Niagara-fall standards for years. Standing next to the buffet on a train was not the ideal place to have one. 2 packets of tissues later, I was wiping blood off my soaked fingers and overcoat. I’m not kidding about the severity of the nosebleed. London-style, very few people noticed. The ones who did fled instantly, fearing an outbreak of Ebola. That was quite funny, actually. My main concern was to make sure my carrier bag of Krispy Kreme doughnuts did not get pinched while I went to wash the blood off. Priorities, right? Of course, as a typical prescriber, I checked every inch of my body for unexplained bruising when I got home as my first thought was –leukaemia! Too much knowledge is a dangerous thing.

Anyhoo, I have spent the weekend in splendid isolation. I crave solitude like other people crave alcohol. I couldn’t even bear to go to church; even that level of bonhomie was a step too far although churches are not exactly full of back-slapping revellers ( with some notable exceptions–apply in writing and I’ll send you some info….)

The love of solitude is one of the rare good qualities I inherited from my dear Pater, and it’s a lifesaver when things get tough. The only break in all this silence was listening to Alexis Weissenberg playing Chopin. Oh my giddy aunt, he’s a marvel. You or I could practise the piano for a couple of millenia and never come close to playing like that. That sheer, unadulterated talent is a gift from God, no doubt about it. I don’t know who I love more, Chopin for writing the pieces, or Weissenberg for playing them so well. If you don’t know the works, try and find them and listen to them. It may take some doing though; the Fone recording I have is about 20 years old at least. I wish you a serene week full of inspiration and peace. Pip pip.

 

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