It might be of interest to you that I follow all the news on the radio, actually that might not be of interest to you at all.
But then folks get killed by tornado's and troubadours, so I hear lately and you stay startled. Others perish in Iraq or Afghanistan. Well, Afghanistan will keep the poppies growing to supply the west with needed narcotics so we can survive mentally. Iraq will supply the west with needed oil so we can still produce bicycle tires once the oil runs out and once there are no more cars on the road. What? that makes no sense at all ...
All right then, let's try this again.
Iraqi oil resources are being estimated to be the second largest oil reserve in the world after what the Saudis got. No, I don't lie this time - do your freaking research on your own time and confirm this for yourself, if you wish.
What in all earth does this have to do with troubadours and bicycle tires?
Well, it is so damn easy. Troubadours sing the wrong tunes these days - and tires are made of raw crude oil.
Both avenues will run out of steam, eventually.
We'll see what disintegrates first, the song or the rubber.
In any case, this story is not cheerful (again?). What now!
Plant more vegetables - the only source of your survival kit.
Use pots and pans in Manhattan. It actually works, many tried it successfully.
My "gloom" these days is maybe a lack of testosterone or some other kind of depreciation. What the hell do I know. In any case, you be well and stay sane, plant your crops and race with me to catch up on carrots or peas. Good luck. That kind of action would be indeed better than playing the lottery.
Sunday, May 4
new post to (in?) vanity
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9 comments:
"My "gloom" these days is maybe a lack of testosterone"
So gloom for you is a female malady? I know how you think.
Without testosterone, you suddenly crave vegetables. You dream of a world without oil, powered by inflatables.
Chee, Zee.
I'm glad dysmenorrhea isn't just a female "problem." You'll feel better if you avoid salty foods. And I hate to say it, avoid sweets. Nuprin helps.
Oh, no coffee either. Isn't that a bitch?
You are something SERA - basically you want me to die and wither.
The only food I can digest right now is raw fish and salty stuff - and I MUST have one cup (only one) of coffee in the morning...
Oh, the "....rone" thing - I'll have a Cotes du Rhone.
Apres moi le deluges. Whatever, testosterone was maybe not the issue, nor the lack of fresh rabbit food.
I honestly don't know Seraphine why I am so cranky these days.
But you are right ... it (this) is a bitch
" ...a dream world without oil powered by inflatables???"
wait a minute, that is unheard of. Is this like Led Zeppelin? A balloon with a little engine in the ass?
... hey, hey mama
Hmm, and what's thats "dysmenorrea" thing you brought up Sera. It sounds weird. Am I supposed to look into this thing, like a scholar would?
Inflatables, as in bicycle tires.
You know... Tyres.
You don't want to know
about dysmenorrhea.
It's better to ponder
a square with three sides,
if you wish to do something scholarly.
Floods always recede, if you can survive long enough. Remember to hold your head up. Trust your guages if you don't know which way is up. Tap gently if you think your needle is sticking.
night owls never blink, Seraphine.
You are correct, floods will recede ... eventually.
Homage to the Carrot:
I like a touch of sweetness,
the crisp crunch, the
color when cooked, the fact
carrots prevent blindness.
carrots adorn a plate
like a necklace, pure
adornment
next to the lump of noodles
or an otherwise sad roll,
stealing all the glory from
the mushy eggplant
yearning to be carrot.
Yeah, we all die and sometimes it isn't pretty (or kind or timely). But YES, we can grow and eat our veggies and we can communicate with each other.
I'm staying away from the hormone discussion here, only because I'm ignorant (although I must have some, right?)
what the heck are you talking about Gary? I am confused as a carrot ever can be.
That was the first and only sweet anthem I heard for a long time Sera, the anthem to the carrot. Brilliant.
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