Time After Time

On Monday 21st August at noon, the bongs of Big Ben will sound for the last time for a four-year conservation programme.

I was telling Red Frank about it in the ‘sew below’ on MEROVEE yesterday…

Roob tells Frank about Big Ben Falling Silent

Sew it seamed… 😉

Merovee Time

*Oh brilliant, Clicky! I haven’t heard that in ages… /lights up… Did you know, Culture Club considered calling themselves The News?*

tenor1

*Yeah, I saw it on an interview years ago. Apparently the four band members were living in north, east, west and sarf London when they got together… /taps fag… N, E, W, S… /deep drag… Hence, The News…*

*/exhales… Talk about poisoned minds… /sigh…*

*Not so much a culture clash there, Clicky, as a culture mash…*

*/sucks dog end… Yep… /stubs out… Butt knot so upbeat though, eh? /looks confused… What was this post gonna be about again? …/looks up… Oh yeah…*

Big Ben, the clock’s bell, weighs 13.7 tonnes… That’s 137 (see Pointless Exercise), and there was another clock associated with that number… The ‘World Clock’ Wolfgang Pauli dreamed after striking up a great friendship with Carl Jung…

*Hmm…*

Leg_Iron_Books

*/cough… Leggy put up another great post last night, Clicky…*

*/looks at clock… Yikes! It’s getting late… Do you think Dear Reader will mind if I snuck off, Clicky?*

*Okay, just leave a Song… /lights up… make it a good one…*

In The Mood…

I’ve been working up to penning some short stories for the next Underdog Anthology, Dear Reader, due out for Halloween. Writing horror doesn’t come easy for me, so today I dipped into The Articles of Dume (written by my good friend the Doctor), during my lunch break, for instruction and inspiration…

*Fuck! I hope it doesn’t take forever, Clicky, the submission deadline is the end of September…*

Anyhoo… I thought I’d post the last of my three stories, but the first that I wrote, for Volume 1. The other two can be found here and here

*Not yet, Clicky, but I’m trying…*

*******

Succulent Sardines

by Roo B. Doo

During daylight the faded grandeur was all too apparent but in the evening the flickering lamplight transformed the interior of Crossgate House into a Gothic nightmare.

‘Well, this is spooky as hell,’ Helena whispered to herself as she lightly skipped up the stairs toward the darkness of the top floor.

Paul was up there, waiting. All she had to do was find his champagne glass and then they would have a few precious minutes to indulge in the most dangerous aspect of their relationship – risky sex. Helena shivered at the prospect and wondered at the audacity of the man the financial media blithely referred to as ‘Golden Sacks’. Getting your rocks off during a game of Sardines at the company’s weekend retreat, was the epitome of risk-taking.

Helena paused as she reached the landing to duck under the heavy, velvet rope barrier and sign firmly stating, ‘STRICTLY OUT OF BOUNDS’. Big bucks can buy use of historical dumps with disturbing histories, but some areas remained firmly off limits. Especially to drunken financiers with little understanding of the meaning of priceless.

She risked a look over the handrail, Helena but couldn’t detect anybody else on stairs; the sound of muffled laughter in the distance below confirmed that only she and Paul were in his part of the house. The rest of the party were searching for him elsewhere. Only she knew where he’d be hiding in a ‘fuck ugly, black wardrobe’ that he’d discovered whilst snooping about earlier.

Slipping her phone from pocket, Helena shone its bluish white light down either side of a corridor until she spotted a fluted glass on a side table beside a heavy, wooden door. The champagne bubbles inside danced and popped as she approached. Helena downed it in one and gripping the cold brass door handle. Part of her hoped it was locked – they had been told these doors were locked – but it swung open effortlessly under her touch. With a final quick glance back the way she’d come, Helena quietly slipped inside the room beyond.

“Paul?” she hissed as she scoured the room for a glimpse of him. “Paul? Where are you? This must be the most stupidest idea you’ve had yet.”

Helena put down the glass and lifted her phone again to take in the dust sheet covered contents of the room. Along the back wall she spotted a large, black wardrobe. Creeping forward, she could make out grotesque figures carved ornately into the pitch coloured wood. Helena grimaced; the wardrobe was indeed very ugly.

“Paul, let me in,” Helena whispered urgently. She flinched from touching the door knob, a carved fist clutching a human heart. Closer still, the carvings appeared to cavort in the cold blue light streaming from her phone.

“We don’t have long. Fuck! It’s doesn’t take a brain surgeon to know you’ll be hiding exactly where you not allowed to. It won’t take those drongos long to figure it out. Let me in.”

There was a metallic click and the wardrobe door noiselessly and smoothly swung open. Helena sharply stepped inside and her lover closed the door behind her.

“You’re a bloody nightmare, this place is creepy.” Helena lent up and pressed her lips against Paul’s neck as he ran his hands down her back. She felt his fingers dig into her arse cheeks pulling closer toward him. “But, I can feel that you’re already hard. That should save some time.”

Helena slid to her knees and swiftly unbuckled his belt. Within moments she’d freed his throbbing cock from it’s rich trappings and greedily began to suck. After a while Paul sighed.

“You’re a wicked child. So, you liked my game suggestion? No, don’t stop.”

Helena redoubled her efforts. In the oppressive darkness, the sound of her slurping suddenly filled her with disgust. This felt like a risk too far, she decided. She wanted to get it over and she didn’t want her attentions reciprocated.

“You really are very good. He’s hopelessly wrong about the most important things, but he’s quite right about you.”

Helena paused and looked up into the blackness. “Who’s quite right?” Her stomach made a queasy roll. “Paul, I’m not feeling too good. Can we stop?”

“Him. Your banker boss.”

Helena stopped and leant back, putting distance between herself and Paul’s engorged penis. The curve of an expensive leather shoe press into her inner thigh as she sat back. Reaching between her legs, Helena groped the familiar texture of Paul’s exquisitely tailored trousers. Shoe and fabric where linked by a cold, bony ankle encased in a silk sock.

“No, don’t scream. Not yet. And no stopping. Please continue.”

With a cruel yank of her hair, Paul pulled Helena back into a pleasing position. He pumped her head back and forth, pinioning her head in his hands.

“They won’t be able to hear you scream in any event. None of you heard his shrieks earlier,” he grunted and sped up. “Two hundred hungry years of solitude. You know, I was beginning to think nobody was left alive out there.”

Helena gagged at the forced pressure in her mouth. Bewildered tears ran from her bulging eyes. Please let someone come quickly, she thought as she succumbed to the darkness.

“As. You. Wish.”

Paul groaned long and loud as Helena’s body slumped onto him. He cocked his head at the sound of someone smashing the champagne glass in the outer room. Heaving Helena’s unconscious body away from him, Paul licked his lips and grinned.

“Yes, you’re very good and we will do that again. But for now, best to make space for the others. Now, I think it’s my time to gobble.”

*******

Right then. I’d better get on with it and get down to writing…

*/puffs out cheeks and blows… Got a suitable Song to finish with Clicky?*

 

 

Flying Blind…

Twitter is down for me at the moment, Dear Reader. I wanted to get hold of Leggy to ask if I could publish a paragraph of Cultish

Cultish by Hugo Stone Leg Iron Books Start of Chapter 5

*Clicky, NO! I don’t have permission… And neither do YOU!*

*I know you both worked for Dumey, Clicky… Butt I could get in to trouble!*

rut roh

*/cough…*

The paragraph, Dear Reader was to add some context to a comet I left on Red Frank’s latest last night, Where East meets West

guest_76116183253_1341949420

*Oh yeah…/lights up…*

… Whereas Leggy posted on Left and Right

*/sings… Any fin goes…*

Meanwhile in the mindlines, The Prez of US is waxing on about East and West… And shifting Pols

*Wise words, dolphin assistant o’ mine… Also knot a good idea to abuse the pilot… /smacks lips… Fancy a swift ‘alf, Clicky?*

parched-rate-chart699x466-gif

*Blue Frank’s place, then… /picks up cigs… Oh and don’t forget to leave Dear Reader a Song…*

 

 

All’s Fae in Love and War…

Mother had a few ‘truths’ she would impart to me and my sister when we were growing up. Dad, too, although his favourites included:

“Honesty is the best policy,”

“Ignorance is no defense before the law,”

and,

“Always be nice to the PAs – they’re the gatekeepers.”

The two that Mother used most often were,

“Faint heart never won fair lady,”

She mentioned that one to me several times one raining Sunday afternoon, as she made me pore over the telephone directory, looking for the phone number of a boy I’d met in the pub the night before. I was 16.

The other one was,

“All’s fair in love and war.”

Leggy wrote a post about The War last night. This would be the War on Tobacco, declared by Anti-Smokers in their bid to…

fp3134

forge a tobacco-free world. Smokers are but collateral damage in the mighty offensive, waged upon a plant that inhabited this planet long before humans ever did.

If reality, and by that I mean real life lived and experienced, is ruled by laws based on lies… science fiction… does that not bring science fiction into play? Seems fair to me…

What is the greatest mystery in science?

There is a most profound and beautiful question associated with the observed coupling constant, e – the amplitude for a real electron to emit or absorb a real photon. It is a simple number that has been experimentally determined to be close to 0.08542455. (My physicist friends won’t recognize this number, because they like to remember it as the inverse of its square: about 137.03597 with about an uncertainty of about 2 in the last decimal place. It has been a mystery ever since it was discovered more than fifty years ago, and all good theoretical physicists put this number up on their wall and worry about it.) Immediately you would like to know where this number for a coupling comes from: is it related to pi or perhaps to the base of natural logarithms? Nobody knows. It’s one of the greatest damn mysteries of physics: a magic number that comes to us with no understanding by man. You might say the “hand of God” wrote that number, and “we don’t know how He pushed his pencil.” We know what kind of a dance to do experimentally to measure this number very accurately, but we don’t know what kind of dance to do on the computer to make this number come out, without putting it in secretly!

Dear Reader, if you’re a frequent visitor to the LoL, I have made no secret of my fascination of 137 and synchronicity. Nor my love for the greatest science fiction character of all time… Who?

Doctor Smoking

*Damn! Wouldn’t it be hilarious if the mystery were solved by someone enjoying tobacco, Clicky?*

Fun Fact! Peter Capaldi, the current and 13th (if you include the Hurt War Doctor) played a doctor from the W.H.O. in ‘World War Z‘ before entering the Tardis…

*Ooo I’m looking forward to Christmas this year, Clicky! I wonder who the 14th will be… /thinks… 14 is 7+7… 77… Z…*

Interesting comment of Cade’s on Leggy’s post…

C.F. Apollyon comment at UBU

Sew… I did a search and he was absolutely correct…

Nature's Whispers The Fair Family 13.7

… All’s fae in love and war… I guess it depends on your angle, see 😉

Dear Reader… have a drink

gi3qze8x

*Cheers, Clicky! Yore very good ‘elf…*

… And a Song…

 

Norman’s Full House

A shambolic post about books, Dear Reader, inspired by the passing of a man called Barry, best known for his love of films…

*Fucking hell, Clicky, how did you find that? I remember watching that interview on telly at the time…*

*No fucking way! That advert was shown every time I went to the pictures…*

Legs and Roobs discusses animals

… And conversations last night with Leggy and Cade…

Cade and Roob discussing physics
CLICKY PICCY TO WATCH CLIPPY

I discovered my Native American animal is Stag, Dear Reader…

Pre-Stag Weekend nights out. Jesus. You know the kind.’

 

Hugo’s a beaver apparently…

*’Cultish’ is incredibly offensive, Clicky… Funny as FUCK but liable to give those with a weak constitution an attack of the vapers…*

Leggy has now published Longrider’s anthology of short stories, Blackjack… And what a stunning collection of tales it is…

Blackjack front and back

*I offer him copy editing services for free, Clicky… That way I get to read the stories for free… It’s a kinda win/win situation…*

Whilst the publisher provided the front cover, the author supplied the artwork for the back…

While a count of 17 is a good hand, the player may wish to draw for a higher total.

Three of Blackjack’s stories appeared in The Underdog Anthology...

the-underdog-anthology-front-and-back

… Along with Hugo’s story Jesus Saves

*I hope he publishes it at The Probe, Clicky… I think a lot of people will want to read ‘Cultish’ after that…*

Roob tries to talk to Hugo

*Ah, I can’t make him listen to me, Clicky… I can’t make anyone do any fing…*

Anyhoo, Leggy has now managed to publish a book a month since Christmas. Well done him! And I really hope he’ll publish one of his own stories in July…

*Knot at all, Clicky, it’s ready… He let me read it… /lights up and exhales… It’s been ready for fucking ages…*

UBU The Writing Bug

Of course a ‘full house’ isn’t a term in blackjack, but it is one in poke ‘er

*I guess my shambles can be a bit gaga, Clicky… /bites lip… Oh well, shall we finish up and have a Song?*

 

 

 

Supposing A Smokers’ Symposium

A quick post for you tonight, Dear Reader…

*I know, I’m working on it, Clicky…*

On Monday evening, I spent a pleasant couple of hours in Blue Frank’s Smoky-Drinky, talking to chums I’d only ever written to before.

On Tuesday afternoon I was unexpectedly asked what ‘symposium’ is by a girl in the office – her boss had been invited to one and didn’t know what it entailed, so I told her… and then I decided to look it up…

symposium (n.) 1580s, “account of a gathering or party,” from Latin symposium “drinking party, symposium,” from Greek symposion “drinking party, convivial gathering of the educated” (related to sympotes “drinking companion”), from assimilated form of syn- “together” (see syn-) + posis “a drinking,” from a stem of Aeolic ponen “to drink,” from PIE root *po(i)- “to drink.”

The symposium usually followed a dinner, for the Greeks did not drink at meals. Its enjoyment was heightened by intellectual or agreeable conversation, by the introduction of music or dancers, and by other amusements. [Century Dictionary]

The sense of “a meeting on some subject” is from 1784. Reflecting the Greek fondness for mixing wine and intellectual discussion, the modern sense is especially from the word being used as a title for one of Plato’s dialogues. Greek plural is symposia, and the leader of one is a symposiarch (c. 1600 in English). Related: Symposiac (adj.); symposial

*/squints…*

I also met Red Frank’s brother yesterday afternoon. We work in the Tower on different floors, and until now our paths had not crossed, but were thrown together for a meeting. I took the minutes and then gave him a signed copy of The Underdog Anthology 2 to pass along…

*Okay! …/huffs… I get back to writing my submission for Anthology 3… /lights up… But for your info, Clicky, I did actually write some more of it today… /puffs…*

I’d better go for now, Dear Reader, I still have ironing to do, but I will leave you with my good friend, Legs’ post from last night…

*And a Song… /rolls eyes…*

 

 

 

 

Fangs For The Mammaries…

This is going to be a post that requires you to employ your own ‘Clicky’, Dear Reader… It starts with a word

wolf (n.) Old English wulf “wolf, wolfish person, devil,” from Proto-Germanic *wulfaz (source also of Old Saxon wulf, Old Norse ulfr, Old Frisian, Dutch, Old High German, German wolf, Gothic wulfs), from PIE root *wlkwo- “wolf” (source also of Sanskrit vrkas, Avestan vehrka-; Albanian ul’k; Old Church Slavonic vluku; Russian volcica; Lithuanian vilkas “wolf;” Old Persian Varkana- “Hyrcania,” district southeast of the Caspian Sea, literally “wolf-land;” probably also Greek lykos, Latin lupus).

This manne can litle skyl … to saue himself harmlesse from the perilous accidentes of this world, keping ye wulf from the doore (as they cal it). [“The Institution of a Gentleman,” 1555]

Probably extinct in England from the end of the 15th century; in Scotland from the early 18th. Wolves as a symbol of lust are ancient, such as Roman slang lupa “whore,” literally “she-wolf” (preserved in Spanish loba, Italian lupa, French louve). The equation of “wolf” and “prostitute, sexually voracious female” persisted into 12c., but by Elizabethan times wolves had become primarily symbolic of male lust. The specific use of wolf for “sexually aggressive male” first recorded 1847; wolf-whistle attested by 1945, American English, at first associated with sailors. The image of a wolf in sheep’s skin is attested from c. 1400. See here for a discussion of “wolf” in Indo-European history. The wolf-spider so called for prowling and leaping on its prey rather than waiting in a web.

…Last night I posted about a certain ‘wolf‘ on MEROVEE

Merovee Twilight Sleep

Some background: last July, the Red Granite Hollywood production company was accused by the DOJ of using $100 million that prosecutors said had been diverted from the 1MDB fund to finance DiCaprio’s 2013 film “The Wolf of Wall Street.” Last October, DiCaprio said he was cooperating with the probe and would return any gifts or donations if they were found to have come from questionable sources.

DiCapRio

…And MJ put up two posts overnight at Blade and Chalice. She’s been to visit the Scopes Trial museum in Dayton, Tennessee:

There’s a specific message for Hugo in Part 2…

House of S-tone, please read this. https://at37.wordpress.com/2012/02/06/137-69-draft/

…Of course I’ve also had sum ideas about 137….

137-maths

…So I was interested to read today that grocery stocks are crashing in the US and Europe…

Whole Foods stock was halted for ‘news pending’… and now we have the answer – Amazon to acquire Whole Foods Market for $42/share in an all-cash transaction valued at ~$13.7b, including Whole Foods Market’s net debt.

…Amazon is one of the FANGs…

A little bit of paranoia is always healthy.

In the 1980s, the totalitarian fear was that some overenthusiastic government agent would go to the library and pull your library card to see if you were reading seditious texts.

Seems a bit quaint now, doesn’t it?

It didn’t at the time.

Of course, the East German Stasi went to those lengths to spy on its citizens, but there was never any real danger of it happening in the US.

Fast forward to today.

  • Facebook knows who your friends, friends of friends, and acquaintances are. It knows what you look like, and what your friends and family look like. It knows what TV shows you watch, what music you listen to, and in all likelihood, your political activities.
  • Amazon is today’s library card—it knows every book you’ve ever ordered, along with more pedestrian purchases like vitamin supplements.
  • Netflix is a database of pretty much every TV show and movie you’ve ever watched.
  • Google has a repository of every Internet search made by every American citizen.

F, A, N, G. What does that spell?

Those four stocks have outperformed over just about any timespan.

Does anyone else find it more than a coincidence that they are also potentially the biggest threat to online privacy?

Like I said, that library card thing seems a bit quaint.

… Library card and groceries… Food for thought…

Also last night, I read Part 5 of a series at The Secret Sun, that seemingly started with a drowning in Wolf River Harbour…

I first began to follow this story when I heard about the drowning death of Jeff Buckley. I’m not sure why but the first thought that came into my head was that it had something to do with Elizabeth Fraser.
I had no idea that all of this had been prophesied for years and years before, in ways that actually give me chills.

The Secret Sun The Eyesies

That’s a lot of ‘Clicking’ and reading for you, Dear Reader, so I’ll finish up with a snapshot of Red Frank’s MEROVEE post…

Merovee Twilight Sleep The Long Way Round

… And a drawing I created to depict the process of construction logistics for my boss’s book, for the layman (‘Sun’ reader) to understand, showing how employing a logistician on a construction project ensures your mega costly building is achieved on time and budget… And the client at the top who Doo’s knot…

TIT at the top is the client going the long way round

… Alas he didn’t use it…

*Clicky! …/rolls eyes… That Song! …/huffs…*

Enough of this shambles, Dear Reader… Have another…