Quirks and whimsy – sillysocksonfriday

Lift up your hearts

This is an echo of my Catholic foundation, but in those days the words were in Latin: Sursum Corda

It is followed by the call to give thanks and praise.

Well in the western hemisphere whole countries pause and families gather to give thanks together. It is a fine tradition which the rest of us should follow with at least the respect and enthusiasm we give the banal Halloween, over-hyped Festive Season and chocolate coated Easter!

You may have noticed the absence of any rant or mumble in recent months – I have not been inspired or agitated enough to stir my stumps…

Perhaps there will be peace in Ukraine this Christmas. It will be an achievement of note, notwithstanding the apparent pandering to the acknowledged aggressor. That is cause for jubilation.

Israel and Gaza have slipped off the media interest scale, although still simmering. Let us give thanks and praise!

Good news is often not sensational, so it is downscaled by most media, sadly – it doesn’t sell as well as blood on the front page.

But here are some things we should be happy about:

AI is revolutionising medical diagnosis. …
Ocean cleanup projects are making waves. …
Mental health support is going mainstream. …
Renewable energy is breaking records. …
Gene therapy is curing ‘incurable’ diseases. …
Cities are becoming wildlife havens.
Food waste is being tackled with smart solutions
Global poverty continues its historic decline

Yeah! They do look good. Thank you

sorry … bit of a mumble space filler..

A brush with death…

Quite recently I was told that there was a snake in my vicinity which could strike at any time! If it did I should call an ambulance immediately. Also, it would be better if I didn’t move around in case it struck!

I suggested not finishing mowing the lawn. However, that was ruled out at home. “If you are going to die, you are going to die – it’s the same for all of us.”

Well, that was the best advice. No panic, no worrying … almost a secret pleasure. The prospect of imminent death was not at all daunting. Maybe a bit of regret that I wouldn’t be at my wake. I did suggest it as a possibility. Maybe I could be borrowed from the undertakers and propped up in the corner with a beer in my hands…?

That’s not exactly what really happened…

My doctor had cut off a mole and sent it off for checking. She also sent me to a cardiologist to check my ticker. He sent me for some tests.

As arranged, my doctor phoned to report if the mole was dubious or not. It was not.

But, she had the results of my CT test…

I was to take 300 aspirin immediately and one every day forever.
I was not to do anything strenuous and if I had any discomfort, no matter what, I was to call an ambulance!
She was booking me into hospital for angioplasty.

That’s when I asked about the lawn and the washing up.

The snake was a clogged coronary artery, which seemed to be a serious situation.

However, I saw my cardiologist a few days later and he said:

Nah, relax –it’s not a problem, we will treat it medically. It has been there a long time. If it hasn’t killed you by now, it is not likely to do so.

He is a very good doctor – he just prescribed a few pills and didn’t even put me on a diet!

So my plans for a wake are on ice.

Quite an impressive tale to tell and some of my children seemed concerned, which was heart warming.

On a slightly less jocular note, I was surprised. I was not remotely concerned by my doctor’s alarm and urgent arrangements for heart surgery.

On second thoughts, is it depressing that the thought of my death doesn’t alarm me? … I wonder if there is Beck’s in heaven? If the beer is warm, I have probably gone to hell…

Bits and pieces

These are words in my reading that resonated with me and some random thoughts of my own.

The left has long been addicted to the most desired thing in intellectual life today—transgressive edginess, hip nonconformity. … different labels and buzzy phrases: institutional racism, antiracism, anticolonialism

What they all share is a desire to seem authentically rebellious by attacking the foundations of our nation and our civilization.

The problem is that such ideological non-conformity has become so institutionalized that it’s become an expression of ideological conformity

Jonah Goldberg The Dispatch 23 Jan 2024

Is it ironic that there has been an Indian (from India) presidential candidate? There has also been a half Indian Vice-President. Additionally, there are a number of Indian Presidential advisers. Yet, there is no native American Indian in any high government post…

Not How but Why?

This is what the the leading podcaster/ influencer thinks about marketing:

“ It’s nearly always cheaper, easier and more effective to invest in perception than reality “

“Remarkably, the close button in most lifts doesn’t actually work. Lift doors are designed to close after a certain amount of time, for safety and legal reasons…. This illusionary placebo creates the impression of control, decreases uncertainty, makes you feel safer…increases customer satisfaction.”

“Do not wage a war on reality, invest in shaping perceptions.

Our truth is not what we see.

Our truth is the story we choose to believe”

We believe that we are rational

“Our decisions aren’t driven by sense, they’re driven by the nonsense created by social cues, irrational fear and survival instincts “

Stephen Bartlett: Diary of a CEO

Is he saying ‘deceive to achieve‘?

It’s not that I disagree, but that it is very sad.

Bureaucracy has swamped democracy, radical reform is the only solution. Elon Musk and the Donald agree with me.

Interesting ABC News article declaiming the dwindling number of female ministers since that door was opened.

Maybe the Anglican bishops should implement an accelerated advancement for female ministers or seek divine intervention?

Guess who?

“One way he differs from every other president of my lifetime is that sometimes he just says stuff and no one, including some of his own aides, knows whether he means it or not. With good reason: Understanding his motives requires untangling a rat’s nest of strategic considerations, “dark triad” personality traits, anger-control issues, and insatiable avarice, all of it soaked in the logic of populist propaganda in which he’s constantly dousing himself.

Nick Cartoggio The Dispatch

This seems to be the general response to President Trump’s kind offer of refugee status for Afrikaners in South Africa: “Ik wil niet loopen, k’ben een Africaander, al slaat den Landdrost myn doot, of al setten hij myn in den tronk ik sal nog wil niet swijgen.” (Translation from Dutch: I do not want to leave, I am an Afrikaner. Even if the magistrate kills me, or puts me in jail, I will still not keep quiet.) — Hendrik Briebouw, 6 March 1707, at the Stellenbosch Magistrates’ Court.

It’s St Valentine’s Day – love the one you are with!

Hej!

As some of you may recall, I ride a bike in the early morning … sometimes I fall off, but not for a while, touch wood.

I make a point of smiling at and greeting everyone I pass by. Surprisingly quite a few are miserable buggers who just scowl. I also make a point of greeting their dogs, which usually makes them smile … the owners too.

Just to introduce some early morning variation, I greet them in different languages. That seems to work quite well – I mostly get a heads-up and smile these days.

So ….

Hola Konnichiwa

Jambo Hallo Ciao

Namaste

Bonjour Marhaba Dumela Shalom

Bula Sabaidee Ni-hao

Zdravo Olá Sawubona

Salam Xin-chao Yassas Zdravstvuyte Moni Bok Ahoj Bula

Tere Aloha Sveiki Mhoro Kia-Ora Namaste Salut Talofa

Sawubona

A call to take up inoffensive weapons in a global campaign … (woke speech)

The time has come, as the Walrus said, to think of other things.
The organisation / association / school of which I am proud & happy to have been a part for over a decade, has decided to broaden its campaign.

It has been accepted that the global campaign against neckties has had some impact. Sympathisers have increased awareness that tying decorated strips of cloth around one’s neck is folly and a clear symbol of submission to the yoke of ridiculous convention.

I attended a seminar in the city recently. It was depressing: I had to seek guidance on how to access the lift – there were 6, with no buttons. One had to mechanically alert a console in the foyer as to one’s destination & it advised which lift would convey you. The damn thing had only a clock & an alarm bell & took me straight to floor 20 without stopping.

Even worse were the attendees: 90/100 uniformly attired in black; decorative nooses tightly wound around male necks & jackets buttoned …. slightly amused at my grey flannel slacks and cardigan, politely ignoring my lack of necktie.

All I could think of was urban clones. The lawyers who adressed us, could have been brother and sisters, raised by a Sergeant Major! I am so glad I don’t work in the city!! The campaign has a loong way to go.

The Israelis, those clever industrious aggressive people, who are the best national example of a general rejection of that corporate noose, are not doing well with PR at the moment though!

So, a different campaign, a strategic feint, is considered appropriate to garner fresh attention,

Being easy going, we understand the courage and daring involved in resistance. The Man is mean, unreasonable and unrelenting – a challenge of this nature is likely to invite institutional condemnation from up high.
The Man, who has tolerated this absurdity for many years, will have to admit his own folly to recant.

That is hard and would attract labels such as radical, liberal and, horror of horrors, may risk refusal of entry to the Club! So any challenge will be stifled.

Of course, women do not have to comply – that is discriminatory; but don’t tell a lawyer that, there will be an answer. Perhaps men should wear skirts to work – they could call them kilts …hmmm!

Take courage, talk about it, debate it, defend it, attack it!

We still believe wearing silly socks can bring about a gradual erosion of urban uniform mentality.

Start on Fridays & spread the word; encourage participation, praise creativity. It cannot be faulted (it is underwear , after all)

To socks, to socks!

This is a re-post of a very early (slightly edited) blog published on 28 July 2006

I’m an old country boy

An old friend came to town from up North and said let’s catch up somewhere.

We decided on a 10 a.m. brunch in a cafe near the central station and his flat. I am somewhat of a hermit and get lost easily, so hate going into the city.

I have never worked or lived in a city except Salisbury in the 1970’s, which was really a large town with mild traffic in those days. Then 10 years ago in Australia, I commuted by train to an inner suburb from an outer suburb for 2 months – I still shudder…

Timetables were checked and the way to the cafe (just 7 minutes walk) and I had my phone… so girded my loins.

Only had to wait 12 minutes for the train (better early than never..). There was a seat near the door, pity about the school trip into the city. Young people can chatter!

Got to Central station without mishap. Found an exit, hobbled down stairs … left or right? Go right … oops! should be heading to Ann Street, which is the other way. More stairs… Just as well I had allowed an extra 10 minutes to find my way.

There are a lot of people in a city; why are they all on the same pavement as me?All looking purposeful and calm, politely sidestepping my hesitant shambling amble.

Ann Street, go right to Edward Street – easy peasy, only 100m to go, cross to the left, down the hill. Hmmm! better check my phone map. It says destination 9 minutes away – I’d thought it was 7 from the station..? Carry on and find a landmark to check if you are going the right way.

Can’t read street names on map; Yikes! it now says 11 minutes from destination!

So back up the hill I trudge, past Ann Street. Now 5 minutes late and at a wiggly crossroads where my phone map says cross left then right then do a wiggle and you are there. Confused I gaze about seeking clues…

Ting! A message no doubt asking where am I. My friend knows me well. It says: “Do u know where you going? There is no signage but in the snazzy building at the bottom of Jacob’s Ladder behind the revolving door!“

I look up and there across the road is a revolving door. I felt a bit like Alice in Wonderland searching for the White Rabbit. I found him behind the revolving door.

We had a good old friend reunion, which was reasuring. I almost envied his cool equilibrium about visiting the city, but remembered he had worked in Durban City for many years.

Finding my way back was easy, I even found a shortcut by reading the signs. Waited only 7 minutes for a train and had remembered to go to the loo, so there was no stress.

I am so glad I am a country boy, so glad that I will not be around in 50 years when it will be like a city everywhere, unless you travel miles inland … for a while.

Thoughts during this week

I have just realised that it is Friday and I have not written anything… some may say that is a relief – I acknowledge that I have been ranting lately!

So just a random spray of thoughts.

My week has been dominated by the reading of The Running Grave by Robert Galbraith who you may know is also JK Rowling.

It is a detective novel about a cult/religion which bewitches and fleeces many people. The description of the religion, its dogma and rituals and ability to ensnare intelligent people provides a detailed, thought provoking literary artefact. The worlds of the wizardry in Harry Potter stories and Tolkien’s Middle Earth come to mind.

Her depiction of the ease with which our fellow humans are beguiled and converted to blind faith is all too real. The fact that new cults and religions flourish faster than second hand car salemen retire is a tragedy and clear indication of the need for meaningful spiritualiy in today’s world

There are estimated to be more than 45 000 Christian denominations with new prophets and witnesses, each with their own interpretation of the Christian God. This suggests religion has been a fertile field for creativity … and a comfortable living?

The story includes the experience of a beloved relative developing dementia, which provoked urgent thoughts about personal life plans and wishes …

Rowling is a serious social commentator and a literary treasure – I love her work.

Onto less valuable artworks…

I wrote this nearly 4 years ago about Married at First Sight:

What morally bankrupt, banal, conscience-less executive producer agreed to that? How can these people justify the immoral drivel they feed into people’s heads . Tempting people with TV exposure and cash to perform questionable, objectionable, offensive and immoral ceremonies is disgusting.

Do you remember the film of the Depression-era dance marathon of the desperate for the amusement of spectators:“They shoot horses, don’t they?” Why don’t they re-open the Colosseum in Rome and feed Christians to lions?

Finally, I despair that it is so easy to divide societies so easily and so damagingly … the Australia Day furore just deepens the chasm opened by the ill-considered Voice referendum.

Herself is away this week, on the otherside of the continent, grandson tending. The house is quiet in an empty way…

Bombast

I suffered a bruise the other day … to my ego.

For some reason the word came up in a conversation with my daughter … and she laughed! We were talking about the Afrikaans word “windgat”, which is not a compliment and indicates someone who is loud, flashy and probably drives a car with two big exhausts.

We pondered on that; I was forced to admit that some years ago in South Africa, I was called a windgat* by colleagues at work. It was probably because I was a loudmouth and sometimes confronted their conventional awe of authority. Fortunately, I usually knew what I was talking about in industrial relations and in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king!

She asked what the English equivalent might be, so I Googled it.

Oh dear!! Bombastic was the word!

ostentatiously lofty in style

synonyms: declamatory, large, orotund, tumid, turgid rhetorical

given to rhetoric, emphasizing style at the expense of thought

That was why she laughed! She recognised me!

Bombast was the cotton padding used in clothing to make the wearer appear more substantial.

I do admit that I have a love of language and have been known to use big words and I avoid the banal like the plague – but I have never owned a car with big exhausts.

So, it is necessary for me to embrace and practice humility !

Banal is a strange word which I shunned in my younger days as it made me feel queasy somehow. Probably because of the -anal sound. But in fact its not ‘bay nal’,- it is pronounced ‘buh narl’, much more reflective and condemnatory sounding. Synonyms are: bland, corny, dumb, hackneyed, mundane, stupid, trite, vapid …

Ooops! There I go again ……

*windgat literally translates as windy a***hole

Friday thoughts-Winter, 2023

“….. a bullet at dawn is better than being dismebered by a shell…” a line from a Sebastian Faulks novel “Snow Country“.

A soldier’s realism making desertion and the entailed disparagements of cowardice a better choice than savage maiming or horrible death. Life choices can be brutal.

The context was involvement in the Brusilov Offensive of World War 1 which probably turned the war in the Allied favour and incidentally, had one of highest casualties rates of that terrible war.

It was fought in North West Ukraine, about 107 years ago. That poor country.

Today I harvested two granadillas from my vines, which have a promising crop. I will trade them for some of our neighbours navel oranges which glow on their tree and are the sweetest, best oranges ever!

Lulu was attacked by a white ball of fur and had her tail pulled – fortunately Rosie saved her and calmed the neighbours who were aghast by their pet’s aggression. She is a wonder, that woman!

We have seen a Koala in the vicinity – he is a local lad, difficult to spot, but has been around for years.

The Higgins/#metoo/Parliamentary sex scandal is gaining traction…. evidence is emerging of secret support and lies in Parliament. Will a few more Ministers crash and burn in this sordid saga?

It seems the Voice may be getting a wee bit hoarse. There was a suggestion that focus thereon was a way to distract the populace from the pain of a shrinking economy, housing shortages, rising inflation and high minimum wage increases.

Looks like the Reserve Bank Governor is going to be sacrificed for raising interest rates to combat the inflationary increase in wages by the government and its agencies. Jim Chalmers seems to be quite a nasty chap!

The Australians are well on the way to walloping the Indians at the Oval – I am horrified that Ashwin was omitted, so maybe it is deserved. He is a wonder!

Thank God for cricket, rugby has been getting a bit boring…

Raison d’etre

Silly Socks on Friday started in Africa in the early 90’s. The blog followed in the early years of the 21st century

We stand for quirks and whimsy, and intend to take serious looks at silliness and silly looks at seriousness.

The rant is a favoured mode when things get my goat.

Our first campaign was a global war against that yoke of uniformity, the neck tie, now largely won. There can be no logical explanation why people continue to tightly tie strips of cloth round their throats and then dangle them on their chests.

Next on our list is a twin campaign to attack the plague of plastic and promote the global revival of hemp.

If this tickles your fancy, sign up as a follower and get an e-mail notifying you of new posts.

Please comment on what is written, especially if you disagree. Outrage is a validation of effect!