Category: Philosophy


KFC

Not this KFC

Not this KFC

I had a terrible nightmare last night, hence the title. It now means Komputer Fried Citten.

In my nightmare, I dreamed that Clorinha had stuck her nose in the works of my PC, which is always open, and I woke to see her ‘fried’.

I like my PC open, because I am always fiddling and I can see the pretty red light that flashes twinkles in time with the pretty green light on the router and tells me that the internet is fine and dandy. That along with the pretty blue light on the front that bursts into life occasionally, they are so comforting.

But back to the nightmare, I am now aware that it was the harbinger of doom. Later, after my second coffee, I heard a plaintiff ‘mew’ (she’s not big enough to meow yet) I rushed to see what she was mewing about and all I could see was two little paws with claws extended clinging to the window sill. I couldn’t get the door unlocked fast enough and she plopped to the ground, landing between the passion fruit and a pineapple.

Clorinha in bed

Clorinha in bed

I finally got the door open and there she stood, shook her head and appeared none-the-worse for her brief free-fall of a metre and a half (about 4+ feet).

More feline news; Clorinha prefers to sleep on the arm of the sofa. Her daddy, Cloro, was a fan for the bed. When I go to bed she comes in for a quick romp and then jumps down and off to the sofa.

Last night she drew her first blood; cute little claws, but by hell, they hurt. She was sitting on my leg at the PC and slipped off, clutching at anything handy. I’m so glad I had my shorts on… (I wouldn’t have been posting that photo).

myinnerleftthigh

My inner left thigh

My floor is scattered with bits of paper, cotton buds, empty boxes, a handy towel roll centre and pieces of plastic. I daren’t tidy up because Clorinha considers these to be toys. So she’s cheap to entertain.

It’s nigh on lunch time. I have the fish out of the freezer and plan crumbed sole fillets with refried mashed potatoes and a shittake mushroom cream sauce. I also think this merits a white wine. BRB

ConventodaSerravinhobrancoBottle selected, in the freezer for a quick chill. A Convento da Serra white, 2010. It’s a wine from the Alentejo Region in southern Portugal. Reasonable price, R$25 (about $11).

I found some hydrated shittake mushrooms in the supermarket last week. Bit expensive (R$15), but I am so uncontrollable when it comes to novelties, especially such connoisseur items like shittake.

Today is Freeday… my afternoon student canceled yesterday. So I can afford to hit the plonk.

Oh, ‘it’s good to be the king!’ Line stolen from Mel Brooks’ film History of the World Part 1.

I am concerned. I read an article that gave me food for thought. I posted it on They say it’s in the Genes a couple of days ago. Basically it was saying that humans will divide into two subspecies; a squat goblin-like creatures of dim wit, and a taller more intelligent, slim, healthy, attractive, intelligent, and creative human. It also mentioned that the latter would have larger penises; which prompted one of my readers to post on the matter. One of his concerns was that while we may have larger penises, would our testicles also be enhanced… to not balance the equation, things would appear weird.

Man, historically, has always been consumed with interest about the penis. Ever since they manage to stuff their chubby little hands down the front of their nappies (diapers) men are enamoured by their appendage.

But that as it may, further led me to think on the matter; and this horrible thought sprang to mind. Are we indeed headed for a sexless society?

A lab grown vagina -image: BBC

A lab grown vagina -image: BBC

It is common knowledge that our beloved scientists have managed to grow ears and noses in petri dishes in the laboratory; then I read this morning that they have managed to grow a vagina…

Does the future hold for us to create babies from laboratory manufactured parts and be put together in a similar manner to cars on an assembly line?

Hence doing away with the need for sex and the resulting birth.

Now this might appeal to the more puritan Americans, but I’m not sure it would catch on globally.

To top all this off, I got this pop-up:

you-have-been-online-for-1-year-do-you-wish-to-log-off-and-get-a-life

I’m sorely tempted…

Dendrophilous

cokeban99% of the ills of the world would never have arisen if we had remained dendrophilous.

If we had remained in the trees, we would never have had Coca Cola, nor taxes.

Just think… Imagine…

No wars, bonking when the urge comes over us, picking ticks off the wife.

There would be no blogs… HORROR!

What would I do?

Sitting in a tree scratching ones nuts, is hardly a substitute.

CloroPrinter2

He’s a bigger cat now

Cloro has discovered how to turn the printer on. Now that he’s a bigger cat his weight is sufficient to turn the printer on. It’s fun. At first he was stunned by the noise of the printer gearing up, the whirrs, thuds and clicks, but the flashing green lights soon overcame the fear as he batted and pawed at the LCD.

The weather forecast has been right for the last three days, rain. It is right today as well, rain, but not so much as the last three days. Still it makes for comfortable sleeping at night, which can be a hot sweaty affair even without sex.

My plans for Saturday amounted to doing nothing, as predicted, I was successful. I hadn’t finished, so I continued on Sunday.

Here’s something to think about…

You Used To Not Exist

baby-in-a-wombYou used to not exist.

Then you were a baby.

Look at that belly button.

What a funny thing that is.

Soon, you will no longer exist again.

So where will you go?

Well… wait a second…

Where did you start?

Could it be you were always here?

I sincerely don’t see how it cannot.

“I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.”

Source: The Truth You Always Knew

Wow, that’s deep.

Later.

Lunch before Posting

This is a good back burner

This is a good back burner

I have been telling myself that for 2½ hours, but it has yet to sink in.

Bloggers often lose sight of priorities, superfluous things like eating tend to get put on the back burner.

No, I haven’t started drinking yet, I have lessons to perform.

I use the verb perform here because to be a good teacher you need to be an actor; actors perform.

If you do not act well in class, the students get bored, whereas if you perform well, they stay alert thinking, “What’s the fool going to do next?”

clownsrednoseThey always think ‘fool’, because sometimes the actor must be a bit of a clown as well; not too much, just enough to spice up the atmosphere a bit.

*looks for red nose*

With these images in mind, you have the ideal teacher.

Now, where was I? Ah, yes, lunch, it’s a beefless week, so the option is pork because the chicken is frozen. Must remember to unfreeze the chicken for tomorrow.

Now that I have narrowed down the option to pork, the thing is what to do with it. At the moment it is pretending to be a great thick leg chop, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to stay a great thick leg chop. While I am a chef, I have a tendency to wield a cruel knife… I will bone it, and make thin pork strips in a gravy-type sauce. Yes, that sounds good.

Did you know that King Richard III had roundworm? I didn’t until it became HEADLINES in the British press. Quite frankly, that’s hardly headline news. The world will not end because we didn’t know, whereas it might end if we have WW III, now that is headline news. Poor old dead Dicky’s roundworms are a page filler.

McCain was caught playing a game on his phone by a Washington Post photographer – BBC News

Politicians have got a new disease, it’s called ADHD. The British peruse lunch wine lists on their SmartPhones, McCain plays poker, and there are more reports. All this is going on while they are supposed to be politicking, saving the planet, stopping starting wars, putting rogue bankers in prison (like that’ll ever happen?). There they sit earning getting their millions by screwing us stupid, and they are more interested in the lunch wine, or can pull this bluff off?

IMHO, any politician caught playing games rather than running destroying the country should be introduced personally to the pillory, and left there for a week on the first offense and introduced to Madam Guillotine on the second. No ifs, ands or buts, your butt is on the line… not online.

pillory_18103_lg

The pillory should be brought back for errant politicians

 

plato

Plato, we wasn’t silly

I read a post about Plato’s Cave this morning. Honestly, I had never heard of Plato’s Cave. I didn’t even know he had one. Of course, this sent me running to Wikipedia. I now understand a little of the theory, and know that I have been freed from my chains.

How to get rid of divorce. Good idea, it’s a simple solution. Make marriage licenses valid for one year, with an annual renewal. The government charges for the renewal just like your dog license, fishing license, etc. That’s how stupid governments are, they can’t even steal raise money on the obvious. Maybe the world economy could be in a better state, and courts freed up from granting divorces where the only people that win are the attorneys.

Well, that’s my lot for the day, now it’s lunch time.

Later

Too Cold for Bonking

Yes, Lixo is inside tonight, sleeping soundly on my clean clothes. It’s too cold to foray outside in search of love.

Brazil is suffering a mass of polar air over the south of the country that has bought snow to more than 80 cities as far north as Curitiba. Some of these cities haven’t seen snow since the 1940s.

pope1Pope, pope, pope… The news is full of the Pope.

So far the Pope has got lost, red faces everywhere ducking for cover. The popemobile complete with pope got caught in a traffic jam with buses.

The pope has kissed a baby.

Today the pope is resting.

Amusing to note that the political figures in Rio were proud of the money they had personally put up for the big pope party last night. I heard one figure of R$800,000, but it was all for nothing. Pope Francis true to form in renouncing riches, snubbed the party and left after the official bits were over. Leaving the political figures with bloodied noses. When I heard this, I laughed my socks off. Bunch of wankers!

I have now calculated the damages; I lose R$295.50 in wages because of this papal fiasco.

I was asked today by a devout Catholic about my views of the pope, I informed him that I wouldn’t walk across the road to see him. He was shocked beyond belief. I have the same view of any famous personage, politician, president, film star… I’d snub the bloody lot. Far too much bullshit in this world; not enough sharing and caring.

He was even further shocked when I asked him why we are here. His response to worship god was of course predictable. The moment of shock came when I negated his answer and said we are here to provide good compost and mulch for the planet.

An ignoble end, but that’s it; our destiny, regardless of our riches or poverty, is to compost the planet, just the same as the biggest animal, the prettiest flower, or the lowliest worm.

That was the end of the argument, he agreed that I had won the debate. Especially when I made the point that I would get closer to heaven regardless of differences in our piety, because I was fatter than he and therefore able to provide more compost.

I love teasing the devout.

News is about to start; can’t miss more pope, pope, pope…

Later

 

How I Survived for 5 Years

There are somethings that are just indispensable in our lives. One of them I have been without for five years.

But through resilience, tenacity, ingenuity and perseverance, I survived.

Two weeks ago I bought a new one, it has been used twice, and I now wonder how on earth I managed without one for five whole years.

It was a grueling five years, five years of suffering, forcing myself to adapt, but now I am free of those fetters, I can truly enjoy life once again.

Yes, I am talking about the simplest of tools, simple, but a prerequisite in the house of any, indeed,  of the rudest humans. A fundamental necessity, because without this pivotal tool one simply cannot enjoy life. One is deprived of a basic human right and that is as close to a living Hell as anything I can imagine.

The quintessential tool for any food lover

The quintessential tool for any food lover

The paramount right to enjoy mashed potatoes!

Correctly mashed potatoes, mashed potatoes made by a real potato masher.

Yes, I bought a potato masher!

No longer do I have to make do with partly mashed potatoes made with the flat side of a steak hammer, I can really mash potatoes, lovely, lumpless mashed potatoes.

Happiness can be bought so cheaply. One does not have to be rich to be happy; indeed one just needs a potato masher.

The problem with Brazil, is that one cannot always find the simplest of things. Most Brazilians have no idea of the induced bliss of truly mashed potatoes. For  a Brazilian, mashed potatoes is a puree made in the blender and when served spreads across the plate like advancing lava.

Mashed potatoes with rich creamy butter

Mashed potatoes with rich creamy butter

The joy of mashed potatoes that when served in a great dollop of fluffy white, stays a great dollop of fluffy white, just waiting for you to press a slab of butter in the top, so that it melts and forms a pool of golden yellow.

Mashed potatoes, as any western, child knows are not only food, they are an adventure. They are more fun than sandcastles on the beach, you can play with them, you can make battlements and tunnel into them to allow the aforementioned golden pool to escape and mix with your veges.

With mashed potatoes, you become an artist, a sculptor, an engineer or an architect. Only your imagination places boundaries with mashed potatoes.

More importantly, they are an escape, a refuge from father’s wrath. While he is berating you for some misdeed heinously committed during the day, you can doodle with your potatoes, twisting your fork this way and that, boring into that wondrous mound, losing yourself in a quiet reverie, far from the dining room table, half way to Never-never Land.

Yes, the miracle of mashed potatoes, is not to be sneezed at (unless you put too much pepper on them), not to be underestimated, not to be demeaned.

Do you remember your mashed potato adventures?

I do.

Blogger Extraordinaire

foodbloggerThat’s me, Blogger Extraordinaire! I am.

I just saw that on someone’s About me page, how presumptuous to proclaim oneself ‘Extraordinaire’!

I would never presume to do so, regardless of the fact that I am, and I am, a presumptuous bastard as well; extraordinarily presumptuous.

Maybe it is that I don’t presume to blow my own trumpet that I can’t write a post like I saw on another blog ‘4,000 Followers’. Besides, I can’t reach my own trumpet, well I couldn’t the last time I tried to in the bath; and that was when I was about fifteen.

DSC_0942

Why does a dog lick his bollocks? Simply, because he can!

Oh, come on, don’t pretend to be shocked!

What healthy teenager hasn’t tried?

Which is why I am incredibly envious of dogs and their bollocks licking capabilities, even Lixo can do it.

Maybe this post should carry a government health warning…

‘This post could be injurious to your health and mental well-being, it contains 5,000+ substances that can cause your hair to curl, your nose to implode and your knees to fall off!’

I have managed to post on all my blogs today. But then Satireday posts don’t take much doing. It’s when you have to sit here for hours waiting for inspiration to strike and actually write something that blogging takes a lot of time.

51nAToiJsoL._SY300_<beer o’clock>

</beer o’clock>

Leftover oven fried dogfish from yesterday, some beer and a good conversation on the ills of the world.

What better way to spend a Saturday evening?

The local news will be on shortly, followed by the national news and then my nightly soap, by that time it will be bed time.

That is unless I can find a distraction here and the chances of that are highly probable.

It doesn’t take much for me to go off on my tangent and explore the world. But then you are bloggers, you understand the perils of the net.

Later.

The Dishes are Still There

My kitchen doesn’t quite look like this, but you get the idea

I was sort of hoping that with the end of the world being imminent, that I would be saved from the drudgery of doing the dishes.

I woke up this morning and the bloody things are still there.

I could, of course, be washing them now instead of writing a post, but the idea is somewhat less appealing.

More coffee wouldn’t go amiss, but then I’d have to stare down the dishes.

Why is life so complicated?confused

I had a bad dream last night. It wasn’t a nightmare, but I was transported back to being about 11.

I had to suffer the indignity of going to a therapist. It wasn’t because of anything I did, or a court order; nothing more nefarious than the fact that I talked fast. She was actually a speech therapist.

Stupid woman had me enunciating my vowels with a wide open round mouth, reading texts, practicing… It was all rather pointless, and eventually my mother desisted as I showed no signs of slowing down my speech.

Nobody even thought that the reason I talked fast was because I tried to keep up with my thinking, and the brain works faster than the mouth. This reasoning came to me later in life and has since been supported by reading on the subject.

Now as a language teacher, I do slow my speech down for my students because they’d never keep up with my normal pattern of speech. In fact some Brazilian English teachers have problems.

To expand on the theme, I ask, are therapists, psychologists and psychiatrists really necessary?

I mean, I know they are in certain types of institution; but I feel that that’s where they belong. Not let loose on society at large.

Basically in my day, one never heard of a psychologist, let alone have them in schools, etc.

Now they are a dime a dozen. How much good do they do? In my opinion, not much. They seem to me to create problems, where in my day you got a clip around the ear and told to deal with it. Now you are a victim, with the associated lowering of ones self esteem. If you look at it bluntly, the role of a psychologist is to make you dependent and thereby a source of income; it has nothing to do with making you ‘better.’ They prescribe antidepressant drugs that can make you suicidal or turn you into a murderous beast. The difference between murder and suicide is merely, who is the target.

Really, the world would be a better place if all these specialists crawled back into their holes.

Having vented my spleen, I find the dishes are still wanting…

I think I’ll go to the supermarket!

A Simple Life

This is a good guide to simple

We can make our lives complicated, more complicated than is necessary.

I am one for a simple life, no complications.

I firmly believe that if something isn’t broken, then don’t try and fix it.

Some people seem to delight in complicating matters, then when the crap hits the oscillating ventilation device they complain.

I went to the supermarket this morning and was totally frustrated to find that they didn’t have about half of what I wanted. It’s a new supermarket, opened about nine months ago. When it opened it had everything, but slowly over the months the guarantee of finding what I want has lessened. I saw some wonderful filled pies, they were open topped, sort of like little 4″ quiches. The soft pastry would have been destroyed if they had been packed in anything but a polystyrene tray and covered in plastic wrap. There were four different fillings, I just had to have one of each… I felt so guilty when the girl in the deli section wrapped them because I am trying to avoid unnecessary plastic packaging.

But I managed to assuage my guilt over morning coffee…

They were scrumptious!

I should be at work, but my student rang and canceled, demands of the job dictated that he stay on for overtime. So I am comfortably able to get on with my blogging and reading the news; none of which is good.

What’s the matter? Didn’t hurt me!

I watched a film this afternoon. Thor, not good, but not bad; it wiled away the afternoon.

Lixo has just decided he wants a rub. He tells me this by using my left knee as a clawing post, I now have three bloody lines on my knee. He’s quite persuasive, but he’s had his tickle and is now lying on the floor.

That’s about it for today.

Later.

 

Do it, Enjoy it!

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways – Chardonnay in one hand – chocolate in the other – body thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and screaming “WOO HOO, What a Ride!”

This quote has been attributed to many and varied, including Hunter S. Thompson.

I think it is wonderful, and totally agree with it.

We spend too much time worrying about spending five minutes more with our feet on the planet, and being thoroughly miserable in the meantime; eating stuff we don’t like, doing stuff we don’t want to, using products that are actually poisons instead of natural stuff.

All for the sake of five minutes, okay, maybe ten.

Our tenure in this world is allotted. 70, 80, maybe 90 years. It’s the luck of the draw, it’s genetically determined. This is such a short time, when you look at the billions of eons that the universe has existed; we are just a temporary splash of life. Really, we matter not.

There’s an old adage…

Enjoy life now, because you are a long time dead.

Closer to Extinction

An aurock

Aurochs are extinct.

They are sort of an old species of hairy cow.

Tomorrow, I take a step closer to extinction.

Yes, it is my birthday. Having completed 61 years of my allotted span of X years.

Death is not a case of if, but rather when. It is the only guarantee that we have in life, we just don’t know the ‘when’ factor.

Would it help to know the ‘when’?

I think not.

Would it be nice to live forever?

I think not.

One of Sean Connery’s very early films, way before 007, Zardos, in which people live forever and yearn for death as a freedom from the desperate boredom of forever. It certainly portrays forever as not being much fun.

I am posting this today, because I will not be blogging much tomorrow. I am instead having a BBQ at the botequim (neighbourhood bar) next door. There will be a lot of cooking and BBQs involve a certain level of  ‘social lubrication.’ By the end of the evening I should be suitably lubricated. I won’t get drunk; that is for fools. I stopped getting drunk many years ago when I realised that I wasn’t actually a fool… most of the time. We all have lapses.

Later

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