Walked for 4 hours up the river in hot sunshine. Decided to get the ferry back. Luckily the bliss partner pointed out that it was an express service and we needed to change ferries half way. Otherwise I would probably have stayed aboard and ended up on the other end of town.
Whenever my bliss partner and I go to Europe, we take different routes, on different days, and different airlines. So we're not exactly a typical couple who fuss over each other and do everything in step.
Anyway, when I got off the first ferry, I realized the partner hadn't remembered to get off. Last I saw of her, she was deep in conversation with the lady sitting next to her.
So I drove home without her. She eventually got a bus home and went straight to sleep, while I climbed trees in the garden - I don't want to piss myself off by telling you why, but all I'll say is that the garden cancer monster vine that I spent a week slaying in January, has metastasized at the other end of the garden. I googled it, and found out that they can grow a metre a day! So today I was up a ladder scraping the trunks and poisoning them with glyphosate. Its next move will be to drop all its cluster bombs, but by then I aim to have put up nets to catch them.
After mowing the lawn I cooked dinner in the pressure cooker. An organic chicken, with olives, prunes and root vegetables, herbs and garlic in a wine sauce. Big success!
Anyway, I've been on the go all day, and it feels great to be knackered. Tomorrow we've to go and see New South Caledonia's answer to Benny Hill. It's strange being with someone who was famous last century, when you've never actually seen his TV shows but people keep asking for his autograph, and other celebs and politicians stop him for a chat. For a change he hasn't invited the deifheids, so I'm going to go along. He's a very nice guy and a great host, in the conventional sense. Keeps your plate and glass filled, while regaling you with show biz gossip. Whereas I'm the sort of host who makes sure you have absolutely everything you need, then says "right, I'm off, enjoy yourselves!"
Showing posts with label deifheids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label deifheids. Show all posts
Saturday, February 25
Thursday, January 5
volcanoes, mushrooms, planks
Near the end of the NZ time, I had a great day out with some outlaws and their in-laws, all good people and hardly deifheids at all. What fun! All my training in misanthropology went out the window.
We walked up a couple of extinct volcanoes, and came to this. What is it? If you need a clue, Vinnie's Moll's guess was ingenious but wrong: "some kind of antipodean putting green, where you have to hit the ball up onto a mushroom instead of down into a hole".
Rory planking on a "mushroom".
Rory's fit auntie planking.
Rory planking on a cannon.
Rory planking over a drop.
Rory planking on his dad.
Albert using his dome as a beacon, to guide helicopters to the landing pad.
We walked up a couple of extinct volcanoes, and came to this. What is it? If you need a clue, Vinnie's Moll's guess was ingenious but wrong: "some kind of antipodean putting green, where you have to hit the ball up onto a mushroom instead of down into a hole".
Rory planking on a "mushroom".
Rory's fit auntie planking.
Rory planking on a cannon.
Rory planking over a drop.
Rory planking on his dad.
Albert using his dome as a beacon, to guide helicopters to the landing pad.
Tuesday, October 25
good call, albert!
When I turn down a deifheid invitation and the cellmate goes on her own, I sometimes get a nagging suspicion that I may be missing out on something wonderful. Maybe a world class jazz muso would have been at the dinner.
Turns out that the dinner was everything I thought it would be, and more. Even the cellmate, the most optimistic and charitable person I know, came home indignant. Apparently there were two alpha deifheids present, and the competitive self-aggrandizing filled the stage.
Kindly, the sweetie deifheidette sent me a piece of her home-made pecan-pear-chocolate cake, so I was still able to savour the only positive part of the affair. Good call, Albert!
Turns out that the dinner was everything I thought it would be, and more. Even the cellmate, the most optimistic and charitable person I know, came home indignant. Apparently there were two alpha deifheids present, and the competitive self-aggrandizing filled the stage.
Kindly, the sweetie deifheidette sent me a piece of her home-made pecan-pear-chocolate cake, so I was still able to savour the only positive part of the affair. Good call, Albert!
Saturday, October 22
friday night
When summer hits these shores, air conditioning systems take a few days to catch up. After working all yesterday in a boiling building, I had to go to a stifling theatre at night. Sitting bolt upright to keep the back in tune, I blocked the view of the folk behind, but maybe they enjoyed puzzling over the lumps out of my head.
It was an Australian play, apparently an old classic. What can I tell you? I didn't pay for my ticket. And there were two intervals. I stayed on in the bar after the first interval.
An empty theatre bar during a performance is a spiritless place, but at least you can enjoy the private soap opera between the bar staff. I found a table under a fan, and read The Independent on the phone. After finishing my beer I started on someone else's half-empty bottle. In the tropics you need to keep up your fluids. At the second interval, our little group emerged wilting and sweating.
I went back in for the third act, and was able to pick up the story perfectly. Is that the mark of a good play perhaps? This time I stood at the back, by the draught of an open door.
Today we're going to do a repeat of the recent 3 hour walk round the lake, and this time I'll remember to take photos. Now to fuel up on carbs and black tea. Things are looking up. Tonight's the night I don't have to go for dinner at the deifheid place.
It was an Australian play, apparently an old classic. What can I tell you? I didn't pay for my ticket. And there were two intervals. I stayed on in the bar after the first interval.
An empty theatre bar during a performance is a spiritless place, but at least you can enjoy the private soap opera between the bar staff. I found a table under a fan, and read The Independent on the phone. After finishing my beer I started on someone else's half-empty bottle. In the tropics you need to keep up your fluids. At the second interval, our little group emerged wilting and sweating.
I went back in for the third act, and was able to pick up the story perfectly. Is that the mark of a good play perhaps? This time I stood at the back, by the draught of an open door.
Today we're going to do a repeat of the recent 3 hour walk round the lake, and this time I'll remember to take photos. Now to fuel up on carbs and black tea. Things are looking up. Tonight's the night I don't have to go for dinner at the deifheid place.
Thursday, October 20
weekends
I had to go away to a hotel for the weekend, for the cellmate's birthday. I behaved myself, except for a few bedroom beers - a whole bottle and a half on Saturday night, and I finished the second one in the morning.
My companion was at her best. I don't have her permission to publish any details, but here's a disguised image at the seaside cafe breakfast.
She ordered some kind of seafood creation, and I read the paper.
One good thing about going away is the coming back home. Even going back to work on Monday is good, especially when you know you've got Tuesdays off. And Thursdays. And Wednesday mornings. Hurray for the ebb and flow in the job.
Then next weekend there's an invitation to dinner at the complete and utter deifheids' place, to hear ad nauseam about their 6 week euro tour. The pretext for the invite is a belated celebration of the cellmate's birthday, but I reckon if they chose to be overseas at birthday time, that's their loss. I'm too old now to waste a single evening, so I've told them to go ahead without me. Last weekend I was on birthday duty, now it's their turn. Of course now I feel a bit mean, and it'll be a shame not to see the female deifheid, who's a sweetie and only deif by association.
PS - newcomers to the concept of the deifheid may wish to consult the Taxonomy Of Deifheidism.
My companion was at her best. I don't have her permission to publish any details, but here's a disguised image at the seaside cafe breakfast.
She ordered some kind of seafood creation, and I read the paper.
One good thing about going away is the coming back home. Even going back to work on Monday is good, especially when you know you've got Tuesdays off. And Thursdays. And Wednesday mornings. Hurray for the ebb and flow in the job.
Then next weekend there's an invitation to dinner at the complete and utter deifheids' place, to hear ad nauseam about their 6 week euro tour. The pretext for the invite is a belated celebration of the cellmate's birthday, but I reckon if they chose to be overseas at birthday time, that's their loss. I'm too old now to waste a single evening, so I've told them to go ahead without me. Last weekend I was on birthday duty, now it's their turn. Of course now I feel a bit mean, and it'll be a shame not to see the female deifheid, who's a sweetie and only deif by association.
PS - newcomers to the concept of the deifheid may wish to consult the Taxonomy Of Deifheidism.
Monday, October 17
a deifheid taxonomy
The specialist literature describes three kinds of deifheid.
CLASS C - a Class C Deifheid is somebody who's physically deaf. The modern term is hearing-disabled. Some of them are clients of mine, and I think I usually get on well with them, perhaps helped by the fact that, with my speech disability and accent, I already rely on body language and hand signals all the time. Class C deifheids are the only deifheids deserving of compassion.
CLASS B - Class B Deifheids are musically disabled. Through no fault of their own, they have no taste at all. Fans of Black Sabbath, or Barry Manilow, or Pachelbel's Canon - they're all Class B. The jury's still out on Brian Wilson. Surprisingly, Class B's can still live full and useful lives.
CLASS A - this is the gold standard. A Class A Deifheid is somebody who's empathically disabled. Sufferers lack the ability to listen to anybody except themselves. Put several of them together in a room, and there's turmoil. Each one wants to self-publicise, none of them can bear to listen.
A Class A deifheid is a hopeless case, a waste of space, someone trapped in infantile narcissism. It is generally accepted that the worst thing you can do with a Class A is to listen to them. You'll only feed their affliction. You can't advise them either, since they can't take in anything you say. There's nothing you can do for them, and the prognosis is poor.
Class A Deifheidism is often diagnosed with other behavioral disorders ("dual diagnosis"). For instance, many Class A deifheids suffer from NPD too. Indeed, the jury is still out over whether they are two discrete maladies or one.
CLASS C - a Class C Deifheid is somebody who's physically deaf. The modern term is hearing-disabled. Some of them are clients of mine, and I think I usually get on well with them, perhaps helped by the fact that, with my speech disability and accent, I already rely on body language and hand signals all the time. Class C deifheids are the only deifheids deserving of compassion.
CLASS B - Class B Deifheids are musically disabled. Through no fault of their own, they have no taste at all. Fans of Black Sabbath, or Barry Manilow, or Pachelbel's Canon - they're all Class B. The jury's still out on Brian Wilson. Surprisingly, Class B's can still live full and useful lives.
CLASS A - this is the gold standard. A Class A Deifheid is somebody who's empathically disabled. Sufferers lack the ability to listen to anybody except themselves. Put several of them together in a room, and there's turmoil. Each one wants to self-publicise, none of them can bear to listen.
A Class A deifheid is a hopeless case, a waste of space, someone trapped in infantile narcissism. It is generally accepted that the worst thing you can do with a Class A is to listen to them. You'll only feed their affliction. You can't advise them either, since they can't take in anything you say. There's nothing you can do for them, and the prognosis is poor.
Class A Deifheidism is often diagnosed with other behavioral disorders ("dual diagnosis"). For instance, many Class A deifheids suffer from NPD too. Indeed, the jury is still out over whether they are two discrete maladies or one.
Sunday, October 9
3 hours out of your life
Last night we had to go for a restaurant dinner. Thankfully, it was with only one other couple, and they're not deifheids at all, lovely people really. But it was three hours crammed in a noisy environment, where everyone's shouting while cupping their hands to hear better.
And when each course arrives, people ooh and ahh theatrically, as if you've just given them socks as a christmas present.
To me, restaurants and cinemas are only bearable when they're nearly empty, and when you can leave after an hour and a half.
After 3 hours sitting in the same seat, you end up despising the world and everyone in it. But at least you know it's going to end eventually. Imagine the poor criminals in prison 24/7! No wonder they go mad and stab each other to get some peace and quiet in solitary.
Last night I tried the hotboy technique of getting drunk to make it slightly less awful. But then you wake with a sore heid at 3 a.m, and blog about it on the phone. Dearie me! But I've downloaded the new hotboy ebook, also on the phone, and I must admit I'm enjoying it a lot. So I might sign off now and get back to the book, or maybe read some blogs.
And when each course arrives, people ooh and ahh theatrically, as if you've just given them socks as a christmas present.
To me, restaurants and cinemas are only bearable when they're nearly empty, and when you can leave after an hour and a half.
After 3 hours sitting in the same seat, you end up despising the world and everyone in it. But at least you know it's going to end eventually. Imagine the poor criminals in prison 24/7! No wonder they go mad and stab each other to get some peace and quiet in solitary.
Last night I tried the hotboy technique of getting drunk to make it slightly less awful. But then you wake with a sore heid at 3 a.m, and blog about it on the phone. Dearie me! But I've downloaded the new hotboy ebook, also on the phone, and I must admit I'm enjoying it a lot. So I might sign off now and get back to the book, or maybe read some blogs.
Tuesday, August 2
Thursday, May 26
reasons to be rude
Irritable these days. Not sure how much is a reaction to stress, and how much is a natural maturation after losing the idea of having a parent on the planet.
Some of the clients try one's patience. If they're not standing beside you shouting a stream of verbiage in your ear, they're completely helpless and expect you to wipe their bottoms. I'm discovering an ability to be extremely rude back. And today I wore the builder's ear protectors to shut out the clients.
Of course, it's not their fault. They've simply got a disability, like most people now. I've got a bit of a disability myself, one that makes me want to apply a heavy object to the side of some people's heads. It's not my fault.
Lynn Truss's Talk To The Hand, is a very readable meditation on rudeness.
Some of the clients try one's patience. If they're not standing beside you shouting a stream of verbiage in your ear, they're completely helpless and expect you to wipe their bottoms. I'm discovering an ability to be extremely rude back. And today I wore the builder's ear protectors to shut out the clients.
Of course, it's not their fault. They've simply got a disability, like most people now. I've got a bit of a disability myself, one that makes me want to apply a heavy object to the side of some people's heads. It's not my fault.
Lynn Truss's Talk To The Hand, is a very readable meditation on rudeness.
Sunday, May 15
deifheidism - not again!
After avoiding them for about a year, I had to attend a gathering of deifheids today. I would consider learning meditation if I thought it would enable me to switch my brain off at these things. Today I decided to take on the challenge of faking bonhomie. To some extent I did manage to switch off my faculties, munch on a vol au vent and go "mmm yummy" with the best of them, before pocketing my pastry as a takeaway for the dog.
When the champers came out, I took Hotters' advice and gulped a couple. Lo and behold, things became almost bearable. Maybe it's not just me, maybe everyone drinks just to make things bearable. But at my age I need to be doing stuff I can enjoy sober.
When the champers came out, I took Hotters' advice and gulped a couple. Lo and behold, things became almost bearable. Maybe it's not just me, maybe everyone drinks just to make things bearable. But at my age I need to be doing stuff I can enjoy sober.
Tuesday, November 2
annoying music
The traffic driving home last night was so bad that we parked to let the rush subside, and I bought dinner for the driver and me. The radio playing in the restaurant was most entertaining. One annoying or mindless tune after the other. I was impressed that the DJ could dig out such a consistent stream of songs. The one that stayed in the brain was by an English divette called I think Katie somebody. "Oh-oh! It's really not okay, it's really not okay" with a nouveau Chas-n-Dave backing.
Today's annoying music is a slight improvement. The Crossroads theme tune, which I haven't heard since I was about 20, came to mind unbidden, and seems to be on repeat play until I can find something else to blot it out with. Sometimes it might be easier to be a deifheid.1
1I mean of course a Class B deifheid, someone who doesn't listen to music, or only to dreadful music. A true Class A deifheid is defined as someone who can't pay attention to anyone else (often associated with afflictions like NPD). Most people are either Class A or B. I'm fortunate in being neither, though when I get old I may lose my hearing and become a Class C deifheid. It all balances up over time.
Today's annoying music is a slight improvement. The Crossroads theme tune, which I haven't heard since I was about 20, came to mind unbidden, and seems to be on repeat play until I can find something else to blot it out with. Sometimes it might be easier to be a deifheid.1
1I mean of course a Class B deifheid, someone who doesn't listen to music, or only to dreadful music. A true Class A deifheid is defined as someone who can't pay attention to anyone else (often associated with afflictions like NPD). Most people are either Class A or B. I'm fortunate in being neither, though when I get old I may lose my hearing and become a Class C deifheid. It all balances up over time.
Saturday, September 4
surely not the end in sight!
One moment dear Christopher Hitchens was on the screen promoting another doubtless fine book, “Hitch-22.” The next minute he's been handed the black spot. Now the god-botherers are hoping he'll recant and embrace god. I can't see it.
Reading random blogs I found someone taking great macro photos in their garden. Soon after, the photographer was in hospital having life-saving major surgery. Just shows once again, you never know when you'll go. Nobody ever dies wishing they'd worked harder, but I believe everyone wishes they'd managed to love more. I'd rather spend my last hour blogging than working or in deifheid company. Imagine if you found out that you'd just wasted your last day listening to the drone of deifheids!
I took the other photos after sharpening my pencils instead of working.
Reading random blogs I found someone taking great macro photos in their garden. Soon after, the photographer was in hospital having life-saving major surgery. Just shows once again, you never know when you'll go. Nobody ever dies wishing they'd worked harder, but I believe everyone wishes they'd managed to love more. I'd rather spend my last hour blogging than working or in deifheid company. Imagine if you found out that you'd just wasted your last day listening to the drone of deifheids!
I took the other photos after sharpening my pencils instead of working.
Sunday, August 29
things that are different pill-less
For a few weeks, while the cellmate was still away on holiday, I gave up the bliss pills, reasoning I must surely be cured by now. Soon I began to notice a few changes, not all for the worse. It all balances up.
I watched the DVD of No Country For Old Men. I kept holding my breath with the tension. Films haven't been this good in ages.
Next, I was reading a novel about three effed up flatmates. One of them killed himself, and I howled my eyes out. Must have been a well-written book.
I was watching a two-hour Santana concert on TV. I always love the guy, but this was extra heavenly music. I even managed to overlook his meathead hip hop singers with their inane toilet-squat loping. Why isn't all music this good?
One night I was watching an episode of The Street, the UK drama series set in working-class Manchester. I was moved to tears, and I realised that working class life isn't always as idyllic as people think. The standard of TV drama seems to have improved recently.
Pill-less life was going well, but everything has to balance up. There was another pill-free experience to come. I had an invite to the opening of an art exhibition. The artist is one of the deifheid collective. As I arrived outside the glass-walled venue, I could see the whole assemblage. My heart sank. As I turned to go back home, unfortunately a deifheid spotted me through the glass. I walked round the corner and tried to think straight. Then I had to grit my teeth and walk right into the midst of it. And it was even worse than I expected. If only I had been on bliss pills, it might have been half bearable.
That was when I realised I had to get back on the pills ASAP. Thank goodness they kicked in a few days later, before the deifheid dinner, so I was able to spend the evening blissfully under the table.
I watched the DVD of No Country For Old Men. I kept holding my breath with the tension. Films haven't been this good in ages.
Next, I was reading a novel about three effed up flatmates. One of them killed himself, and I howled my eyes out. Must have been a well-written book.
I was watching a two-hour Santana concert on TV. I always love the guy, but this was extra heavenly music. I even managed to overlook his meathead hip hop singers with their inane toilet-squat loping. Why isn't all music this good?
One night I was watching an episode of The Street, the UK drama series set in working-class Manchester. I was moved to tears, and I realised that working class life isn't always as idyllic as people think. The standard of TV drama seems to have improved recently.
Pill-less life was going well, but everything has to balance up. There was another pill-free experience to come. I had an invite to the opening of an art exhibition. The artist is one of the deifheid collective. As I arrived outside the glass-walled venue, I could see the whole assemblage. My heart sank. As I turned to go back home, unfortunately a deifheid spotted me through the glass. I walked round the corner and tried to think straight. Then I had to grit my teeth and walk right into the midst of it. And it was even worse than I expected. If only I had been on bliss pills, it might have been half bearable.
That was when I realised I had to get back on the pills ASAP. Thank goodness they kicked in a few days later, before the deifheid dinner, so I was able to spend the evening blissfully under the table.
Friday, August 20
deifheid dinner delights
I was asked, just now, about the content of the conversation at the recent deifheid dinner. But I seem to have blotted out the memory, thank goodness.
The host was someone who can't bear to listen to anyone else talk. It was a good arrangement actually, because I can't bring myself to talk to someone who doesn't know how to listen. It all balances up.
Yes I was indeed under the table, though the talking was too loud to allow sleep. With a bit of luck I won't be invited back, so it wasn't a total waste of time.
The food, by the way, was torn up duck mixed with dry noodles. No sauce or seasoning as they're on a no-salt no-sugar health kick. To compensate, dessert was a dentist's delight from the supermarket. It all balances up, so I'm not one to complain. .
The host was someone who can't bear to listen to anyone else talk. It was a good arrangement actually, because I can't bring myself to talk to someone who doesn't know how to listen. It all balances up.
Yes I was indeed under the table, though the talking was too loud to allow sleep. With a bit of luck I won't be invited back, so it wasn't a total waste of time.
The food, by the way, was torn up duck mixed with dry noodles. No sauce or seasoning as they're on a no-salt no-sugar health kick. To compensate, dessert was a dentist's delight from the supermarket. It all balances up, so I'm not one to complain. .
Sunday, August 15
under the table
At the deifheid dinner, I drank a bit, then as my eyes were glazing over under the relentless dinner table conversation, I made my move. Under the pretext of leaning over to stroke their sleeping dog, I disappeared under the table, where I was able to lie down and wait till someone suggested going home. For me to suggest leaving, I learned long ago, would have been terribly rude, but when anyone else decides to go home, well that's normal and appropriate.
Tuesday, August 10
major quandary
Next weekend I have to go to a deifheid dinner. I'm not sure how to play it. Which chemical path to take - blitzed and boorish, or blissed and boring. Disgracing myself would bring opprobrium but guarantee no more invitations for a while.
I can't wait for the day when they invent an invisible in-the-ear ipod.
I can't wait for the day when they invent an invisible in-the-ear ipod.
Saturday, July 31
the deifheid chronicles
It's Friday after work. On the way now to yet another dreadful deifheid dinner party. If I was a different person, I'd be grateful - I get driven there and back, I could drink all their booze (but never do), the food is tasty if you like that kind of thing. Yet all I can think is: another chunk of my life wasted.
Last weekend was better. There was a 4-hour walk, with a group of new people, and some of them were hardly deifheids at all!
Late Friday night. Just back from the deif dinner. A great night. I told you it would be good. I was handed a glass of red champagne when I arrived. Why did nobody ever tell me drink could help?
Also, the hosts were the birthday girl's parents, so for once the grown ups were in charge of the asylum, and the chief deifheids showed some restraint. I sat beside the mother, an absolute sweetie. If only I was ten years older! When I expressed an interest in her paintings, she took me into her bedroom to show me the best one. I got a proper kiss on the way out. If I'd been quicker off the mark there could have been tongue.
For entertainment, there was a litter of kittens. And even some of the conversation wasn't too bad. For once the cellmate had to drag me away.
On the minus side, I had to eat some dead tortured chemicalised animal. It all balances up.
- Posted from iPod
Last weekend was better. There was a 4-hour walk, with a group of new people, and some of them were hardly deifheids at all!
Late Friday night. Just back from the deif dinner. A great night. I told you it would be good. I was handed a glass of red champagne when I arrived. Why did nobody ever tell me drink could help?
Also, the hosts were the birthday girl's parents, so for once the grown ups were in charge of the asylum, and the chief deifheids showed some restraint. I sat beside the mother, an absolute sweetie. If only I was ten years older! When I expressed an interest in her paintings, she took me into her bedroom to show me the best one. I got a proper kiss on the way out. If I'd been quicker off the mark there could have been tongue.
For entertainment, there was a litter of kittens. And even some of the conversation wasn't too bad. For once the cellmate had to drag me away.
On the minus side, I had to eat some dead tortured chemicalised animal. It all balances up.
- Posted from iPod
Wednesday, July 21
losing the advantage
Yesterday the boss issued a proclamation, via email, that all employees were to stay late last night. So they could queue up outside his door to receive their personal timetables for the rest of the year.
And verily I emailed him that I wouldn't be staying late, but I would come to his office this morning and see him.
Round one to me.
Yet it came to pass this morning on the way to work, that I spied a record shop having a big CD sale. By the time I left the shop with 18 CDs in my bag, it was nearly midday. There was no point in going to work and leaving immediately for lunch, so by the time I get to see the boss it will be afternoon.
Round 2 may go to him. Fair enough, it all has to balance up. It's my own fault for losing the upper hand.
But if even half of those CDs are as good as I think, it'll be worth it.
Readers might be interested to know that three of the CDs were by a gay Bavarian singing Handel and Vivaldi, falsetto, in Latin. What a fortunate creature I am, not to be a deifheid.
- Posted from iPod at lunch.
And verily I emailed him that I wouldn't be staying late, but I would come to his office this morning and see him.
Round one to me.
Yet it came to pass this morning on the way to work, that I spied a record shop having a big CD sale. By the time I left the shop with 18 CDs in my bag, it was nearly midday. There was no point in going to work and leaving immediately for lunch, so by the time I get to see the boss it will be afternoon.
Round 2 may go to him. Fair enough, it all has to balance up. It's my own fault for losing the upper hand.
But if even half of those CDs are as good as I think, it'll be worth it.
Readers might be interested to know that three of the CDs were by a gay Bavarian singing Handel and Vivaldi, falsetto, in Latin. What a fortunate creature I am, not to be a deifheid.
- Posted from iPod at lunch.
Sunday, July 18
deifheids bonding
'Cocaine n fitba mak homosexuals ay us aw' - the great bard Rabbie Burns, according to Irvine Welsh, in If You Liked School You'll Love Work.
Friday night, there was a dinner for the full complement of deifheids. The cellmate went along, but I wasn't invited. Result!
Next day, she said she had observed how the male deifheids do a lot of their bonding over a shared hatred of homosexuals. That's interesting.
I was fascinated to realise that several PC males, who might have been expected to at least feign respect for sexual minorities, are homophobes when they get together.
Deifheids enjoying a whinge session is hardly surprising, because a deifheid by definition has to talk about himself, and that includes his complaints and resentments. .
And yet in a way it is surprising, because a deifheid by definition is too self absorbed to listen to another whinger.
It all balances up.
I'm just thankful that (1) I didn't have to waste an evening listening to it, and (2) I myself never whinge about anything.
- Posted from iPod
Friday night, there was a dinner for the full complement of deifheids. The cellmate went along, but I wasn't invited. Result!
Next day, she said she had observed how the male deifheids do a lot of their bonding over a shared hatred of homosexuals. That's interesting.
I was fascinated to realise that several PC males, who might have been expected to at least feign respect for sexual minorities, are homophobes when they get together.
Deifheids enjoying a whinge session is hardly surprising, because a deifheid by definition has to talk about himself, and that includes his complaints and resentments. .
And yet in a way it is surprising, because a deifheid by definition is too self absorbed to listen to another whinger.
It all balances up.
I'm just thankful that (1) I didn't have to waste an evening listening to it, and (2) I myself never whinge about anything.
- Posted from iPod
Thursday, May 6
pension fund party
The PPP birthday "celebrations" went on all day. Imagine a room with a hundred blockheids, some of them also deifheids and probably all flatheids. Including speeches and toasts, the sit-down meal lasted nearly 5 hours.
My own short speech was the best of the lot, which isn't saying much. It was the same speech I gave 10 years ago but nobody seemed to recognise it.
For weeks the pension fund had tried everything to force me to agree to speak. Emotional blackmail, whining, guilt tripping, flattery, and simple Bavarian rank-pulling. But there's no appeasing dictators, and I was steadfast in my refusal. I said it was time for me to hand over to a younger generation.
Then when I surprised her and stepped up to the microphone she tried to stop me. "Wait till after the soup, then you can do it". Some people are just born bullying bastards. I ignored her and went ahead.
Here's what I said. See if you can spot the sarcasm that went over her head.
Liebe PPP.
Wir sind sehr stolz, hier mitzumachen beim geburtstag von unsere PPP. Auch die Familienmitglieder die heute nicht hier sein konnten, schicken ihre Liebe.
Du warst, und bleibst, ein sehr bedeutenswerter Einfluss fur mich, sowie fur viele Anderen.
Vielen dank fur deine Liebe und Groszugigkeit, und dafur dass du immer versuchst, uns zu akzeptieren, so wie wir sind.
Happy Birthday PPP.
Did you spot it? The heartfelt last line says "we all thank you so much for always trying to accept us just as we are".
My own short speech was the best of the lot, which isn't saying much. It was the same speech I gave 10 years ago but nobody seemed to recognise it.
For weeks the pension fund had tried everything to force me to agree to speak. Emotional blackmail, whining, guilt tripping, flattery, and simple Bavarian rank-pulling. But there's no appeasing dictators, and I was steadfast in my refusal. I said it was time for me to hand over to a younger generation.
Then when I surprised her and stepped up to the microphone she tried to stop me. "Wait till after the soup, then you can do it". Some people are just born bullying bastards. I ignored her and went ahead.
Here's what I said. See if you can spot the sarcasm that went over her head.
Liebe PPP.
Wir sind sehr stolz, hier mitzumachen beim geburtstag von unsere PPP. Auch die Familienmitglieder die heute nicht hier sein konnten, schicken ihre Liebe.
Du warst, und bleibst, ein sehr bedeutenswerter Einfluss fur mich, sowie fur viele Anderen.
Vielen dank fur deine Liebe und Groszugigkeit, und dafur dass du immer versuchst, uns zu akzeptieren, so wie wir sind.
Happy Birthday PPP.
Did you spot it? The heartfelt last line says "we all thank you so much for always trying to accept us just as we are".
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