Mar 2017 – sillysocksonfriday

Old Insults, not profane!

old fashioned insults

“Hey! You scobblelotcher! Thy vile countenance curdles milk and sours beer!”

Now that is a nasty, personal insult which is likely to generate some reaction from an idler toying with his nose contents instead of attending to his duties

Snollygosters, gobermouches and gnashnabs will seize on that one and add it to their repertoire of groans unless someone heads them off with an irrelevant deviation.

However, if aimed in your direction you could robustly deny being a whiffle whaffler and retort: Zooterkins! I will not take that from a zounderkite and fopdoodle such as you, whose klazomaniac shouting only serves to bumfuzzle and create a catawampus. Stop sitting there and doing diddlysquat – you will get your dipthong in a twist.

prob pronounce

I discovered these words in Dictionary.com – a veritable treasure trove of such gems. I must confess that they are very expressive and I regret that they are no longer in common use!

Do use a few – if only to bumfuzzle others!

Here are some Shakespearean words which you may like to combine in a best-insult competition. shakespeare list

Mind you it will be difficult to surpass the devastatingly nasty subtlety of Winston Churchill: “We know that he has, more than any other man, the gift of compressing the largest amount of words into the smallest amount of thought.“

Profanity palls

I cannot claim to be angelic in this regard; I admit that I sometimes blurt profanities in the company of those that dislike such language. I always regret it, but this little streak of perversity persists.

But if we pause to look at profanity, we see a bunch of stale words which have not evolved much except in the mouths of those seeking to offend or draw attention to their meagre presence and vocabulary.

I subscribe to an omnibus blog digest (Medium) which presents individual views on ‘anything goes’. I follow topics on art, cooking, creativity, history, politics, productivity, psychology, racism, religion and technology.

Much space is taken up by angry people. You may not believe how much is written on racism, feminism and anti-feminism. Vitriol and profanity spew out!

Profanity usually accompanies extreme displeasure or discomfort. It has also become some sort of sign of manliness. Big boys use profanity to impress little boys with their naughtiness and daring.

Some women seem to believe that they are liberated by their profanities. How sad! People striving to emulate others in every way destroy their uniqueness and charm.

What is also very sad is the proliferation of profanity.

It seems now that coarseness has become an indicator of equality, maturity and defiance. Users seek to shock perceivers and inspire the same sort of admiration that big boys sought from little boys.

Unfortunately for them their audience is different and is discerning and scornful of such puerile and pathetic efforts.

It would be tragic if the economics and rationale of media moguls prevailed and
we are faced with further entertainment perversions, worse than Married at First Sight (#@&%!!) and presented with ‘real life’ scenarios in childrens’ hour

Generally speaking, I believe that, if used, profanity should not be spoken in the presence of parents or children (or by them) or indeed, anyone who would be offended by it

Ouch! But that is a stern test for big boys and girls!

Nuff said!

Will you take a tint, Paddy?

guiness Well it may not be a surprise to some of you, but I am an Irish citizen. With a name like Malachy, you might have thought there was a hint of Guinness somewhere. Mind you some in the Wes-Transvaal thought it was a Jewish name.

The first of my family name invaded Ireland as a Norman knight. Family
service to the Crown was duly recognised in 1328 by granting of the title of Baron of Loughmoe with even a castle in Tipperary. Purcell_crest
The medieval Irish genealogist Dubhaltach Mac Fhirbhisigh wrote that our family genealogy begins with Charlemagne, Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire.

The family supported the Catholics after Henry VIII and lost the title. So there is no need to refer to me as Your Grace.

My great grandfather was a stonemason in County Clare. Just after my grandfather was born in 1861, the family left for Leeds in Yorkshire.

He became a soldier and served in the Cape Mounted Rifles, commanded the Rand Rifles Regiment in South West Africa and then served as a Brigadier General in the South African Expeditionary Force in World War 1. He retired to Ireland but sadly the IRA suggested he should leave because of his senior service with the British Army.

shamrock My father was taught the Gaeilge by Mrs De Valera herself. And if you ask me nicely later today, I might sing James Connolly.

Today is a day for joy, a drop, appreciation for the the skilful word and a limerick or two. The thing about limericks is that one needs to read them aloud. not calm

It is an old maxim in the schools,
That flattery’s the food of fools;
Yet now and then your men of wit
Will condescend to take a bit.

(Not mine but that of Jonathan Swift).

O long life to the man who invented potheen – snoopy paddy
Sure the Pope ought to make him a martyr –
If myself was this moment Victoria, the Queen,
I’d drink nothing but whiskey and wather.

(Anon)

Let schoolmasters puzzle their brain, lovely day for a guinness
With grammar, and nonsense, and learning.
Good liquor, I stoutly maintain,
Gives genius a better discerning.
Oliver Goldsmith

Have you heard about the Irish boomerang?
It doesn’t come back, it just sings sad songs about how much it wants to.

It’s not that the Irish are cynical. It’s rather that they have a wonderful lack of respect for everything and everybody.
Brendan Behan

Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go.
Oscar Wilde

I have particular regard for this pithy aphorism by George Bernard Shaw which seems to apply to all media today:

Newspapers are unable, seemingly, to discriminate between a bicycle accident and the collapse of civilisation.

irish harp

Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig ort! Saint Patricks Day Blessings on you

I knew I was going to die/ Bike rides in the ‘burbs II

Yesterday was a lovely cool morning and I set off for a quick ride. Up the hill to the cycle track, down the hill to the river. There is a curve around and on to the bridge.

I have cycle crash had an accident here before

(see: https://sillysocksonfriday.com/2016/09/18/bike-rides-in-the-burbs ) when it was dark and I narrowly missed a man and his dog and his other dog, but hit the third one, (thereby hangs a tail). Consequently, I always have a good scan of the wooden bridge which is visible through the trees.

The reason for this is I love speeding down the hill and swooping round the curve onto the bridge. The planks rattle and the occasional moorhen squawks and flees – exhilarating for a 65 year old!

All clear -no sign of movement – down I went, grinning with joy! I swooped round the corner and looked ahead…

What the…! You are going to die! At least it will be quick! WHUMP!!

I came round on the bridge planks under a tree and just wanted to lie the tree on bridge re…

A tree which grew next to the bridge had fallen onto the bridge, lying lengthways along the walkway. That’s what I hit, like a parachutist hurtling into a forest, sideways.

After I realised I was too sore to be in heaven, I checked if I could move and got up with some difficulty from under the tree and on top of my bike. My head felt very thick and my back ribs were talking in very spiky language.

I managed to disentangle myself and the bike, replaced my helmet and set off back up the hill to home, which was about 600 yards away.

The resident nurse suggested I should go to hospital for a check-up and kindly drove me there.

X-rays showed no fracture and head scan no concussion (over 65 and loss of consciousness requires scan).

They prescribed painkillers (thank you thank you) and said I would be very sore, which was spot –on.

Strange – I had a bleeding scratch on my leg which they totally ignored.

Reasonably pleasant and efficient experience. Even the nurse who asked me which arm I wanted the tetanus injection in and I suggested hers.

Quite sore as bruised ribs can be but otherwise all well, if a bit older and wiser.

Talk about karma or serendipity or whatever … I hit the tree at the exact spot I had hit the third dog, three years before. And on my shamble back home who should I see in the park with his three dogs? You guessed it!

Lessons:

I really thought I was going to die and was relieved it would be quick
Bicycle helmets are fit for purpose – I have “tested” mine four times; flying over handlebars into solid items and not even been concussed!
Never accelerate unless you can see the road ahead clearly
It’s good to be alive!

Feathered Folly

Two farmers in South Africa recently paid R4.9 million (A$490K) for a racing pigeon. A few years ago the Deputy President bid R18 million for a buffalo.

buffalo bull

These fantastic transactions occurred in a country racked by the pain of the huge gap between rich and poor. Those are the premiums placed on leisure activities in our world today. The gap is prevalent in most countries of the world today and apparently has always been there!

The wealthy top 10% of the population own 85% of the world’s wealth; the poorest 70% own just over 3%.

Now that does suggest the failure of an equitable economic system. It is also testament to the success of the entrepeneur and the inability of the majority to get ahead.

However, is the real test not whether the quality of life has risen over the ages?

… the last few centuries have seen us banish starvation and famine from a large part of the Earth. In the most successful countries, the average citizen now enjoys a material standard of living that would have made the greatest king of two hundred years ago turn green with envy.

Even for the poorer areas of the Earth, the growth of the last fifty years has been quite remarkable. Excluding the developed nations of North America, Western Europe, and Japan and focusing only on the so-called Third World, we find that per capita economic growth, improvements in life expectancy, and declines in mortality from disease and malnutrition outstripped the performance of the most advanced nations of Europe, Britain, and France, during the Industrial Revolution of 1760–1860

So the noise about the gap is just squealers trying to get more without working for it? This is probably what I feel about the cacophony raised by all those groups claiming unfair discrimination and victimisation: there has been great progress in improving the position of the downtrodden, but don’t expect to change cultures overnight!

Unfair discrimination is now illegal in most countries.

It also says quite a lot about the Third World countries claims that they have suffered greatly as a consequence of colonisation which occurred just after the Industrial Revolution.

It’s about progress and improvement – not so much about the gap!

(Phew! Where did that all come from?)

Fake News Too

For years now we have been bombarded by marketing campaigns.

Vitamins, insurance, bullet blenders, carpet cleaners, supermarket value, lawyers, housing developments, cruises, charities… the subject is endless and of unlimited creativity.

All of them polished and exaggerated, shined up to make you like them – the thin edge of fake news and not so fake news. Vitamins and health remedies are apparently not what they are made out to be, insurance overcharges with pitfalls in fine print, bullet blenders destroy healthy fibre, carpet
cleaners only work on some carpets…

I remember the riots and looting in London a few years ago; with speculation that the have-nots were so driven and manipulated by marketing that they quickly resorted to theft when mayhem let them off their leashes. I thought then and think now that it is bad and immoral to dangle steak in front of hungry dogs, knowing that only the very few top dogs will be able to enjoy it.

Advertising drives acquisition into addiction – one has to have the latest iphone, music, earphones, news, cars, jeans, sneakers, piercings, tattoos, hairstyle… All of which is unnecessary shit.

Now the fake news and alt facts confrontation testing journalistic ethics the world over is hopefully a wake-up call to society in general to shake up our values.

It is the right time for a new Testament which will show us a way through the lies and blather! St. Malachy, Archbishop of Armagh forecast in 1132 that Francis would be the last Pope! Brace yourselves non-believers… maybe Armageddon is at hand.

But wait – maybe that was an early version of fake news!

Just to juice up a current debate, let the news seeker become a news xenophobe: only trust those sources you know are reliable. And here’s the rub: how do you authenticate these reliable sources? They are not necessarily (and are very unlikely to be) those that produce stuff you like and agree with! Seek out and examine dissent and contrary views.

Get back and examine your basic values and principles and work from there. Remember distrust of new and different things is not all bad, it can be appropriate.

Ash Wednesday

This day marks the beginning of Lent, the Christian tradition of fasting and renewed contemplation of spiritual life. It endures for 40 days in commemoration of the time Jesus spent fasting in the desert, during which he endured temptation by Satan. Adherents focus on prayer, doing penance, repentance of sins, almsgiving, atonement and self-denial.

All very commendable and worthy practices.

I recall the tiny Catholic Church in Mbabane, overflowing with serious and devout Swazis lining up to be marked on the forehead with an ash cross. Incense and sweat and lovely singing. I couldn’t wait to get out and surreptitiously wipe my brow before any of our friends could see me – they were all Protestants.

“Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return” – a sobering thought.

Dad gave up his Gordons pink gin and water (ugh!) before lunch and his John Jameson’s whisky before supper. I think Mum gave up smoking? My brother and I had to forgo sweets, which was really heavy!

The fast was for 40 days but Sundays were excluded and so were birthdays in our house.

I have for some years maintained a fast by giving up beer, which is quite a sacrifice for me.

However, this year I have decided to give up meat. I must confess that my motivation is not that pure: I have been working on reducing my girth by eating healthier and less food and I am conscious that like many colonials, I eat too much meat. So a wee bit of vanity sneaks in there, but discipline and self-improvement trump them.

Giving up meat is not as simple as just forgoing beer; it is a major disruption to household habits, which affect not only me, but also my wife.

She does not like most fish. She has always done the catering including evening meal preparation. You may discern the tension. So I must prepare my own evening meals.

My research into Lent indicates that some fasts only included animal meat, so fish and fowl are acceptable. So tonight it will be tuna fishcakes; tomorrow sardines on toast, Friday could be salt and pepper squid, Saturday maybe crumbed whiting and Sunday will be braaivleis!

Monday boiled eggs, Tuesday tuna salad, Wednesday spaghetti marinara … I am getting into the swing of this! Suggestions are welcome.

I also intend to read up on meditation and perhaps practice it and attempt to complete the book I am writing, which is a major challenge as I have reached a stale block.

Finding a poor person to provide a meal to is difficult in the relative prosperity of a social welfare state. Some local homeless people demand money instead as they get too many meals!! I shall seek an alternate charitable cause.

I suppose I am an agnostic, but I believe in some of the traditions and practices and need self-discipline and spiritual renewal.

Give it a go! It’s a far more achievable challenge than New Year resolutions!