Whirled affairs are always a concern.
We have seen the sighs.
Holler-ring draws near.
Last year the unfortunates were desperately fleeing Chick-among-us. Once again refugees have been falling into the Realms.
We have heard rumors of Seriousians, a mob who will not listen except to themselves, looking to be outraged, and are humorless. Sounds like a blustering bunch constantly airing discord. Let’s hope reverse migrate occurs quickly. Political types cause more problems than they solve.
Canine reconnoissance has located some brazen advanced scouts trying sneaky infiltration by Trojan Beagle.
Not used to the role, their chosen snoop is a bit stiff. Even The Molly is not fooled and greets the faker with a snarl.
The first wave of refugees are smiling, accompanied by children, and showing poor housekeeping skills.
At night their temporary housing glows with warmth and joy. Yurts. Of course. Yurt! Not just a name for a turtle, but a happy portable home!
The camps may be a bit too happy at night. Each morning their tents of frivolity become lumps easily mistaken for discarded laundry. No consideration in return at all for the hospitality offered by those Realms.
If one is too groggy to deal with ordinary morning duties, one should moderate nighttime behavior.
When roaming from home, don’t do as the Romans: don’t leave pillars or friezes carelessly tossed everywhere.
They are still trying to get that place picked up. One must learn from history.
As of now, all seems to be peaceful, but We shall not let down Our defenses.
Even as We speak, this is a time of too many ding-dongs and hard knocks by strangers doing this and that repairs in the Realm.
With much annoyance We have relocated Our Chair of Glower to the office bunker where activity of the Realm can be conducted with dignity from a safe location thus assuring residents of complete control even when chaos hammers around Us.
It was either move Our Chair of Glower or sit on the printer…which is warm, but the unexpected sporadic shaking cannot be good for One’s blood pressure or clawdicure.
Not to mention the smooth finish of said printer which, oddly, is not equipped with paw grips as a normal amusement ride would be.
Staff probably bought the cheap model. One speed. And it rattles.
Multiple purpose machines rarely do any one task well. Now this printer, for example.
While it does actually sound a bit like saber-rattling when in action which might come in useful on occasion
if staff does not impress to workmen it is important to finish their work promptly and clear out immediately where is the remote? So much more useful if We could operate it from Our Chair of Glower. For emphasis. Only emphasis. All the world power leaders use this technique.
The printer shoves across the desk easy enough, but as a duster, it leaves something to be desired.
We Shall demonstrate.
Did the instruction mention the printer can double as a hockey puck? Trash can grabbed it on the way to the floor. Points should be awarded for that. Staff will be amazed. They never read all the instructions, thus never know the full potential of things.
Yes, We know. We do Our best.
Delighted to have some distraction from the loud bang-bangs, but We must say adieu.
The paw is waving…a tired exhausted wave.
Out of consideration, We shall allow you to leave tributes of open cans of cat food here: at the foot of Our Chair of Glower.
Such favor shown to you is overwhelming, We realize.
In addition, We shall allow you to take the printer’s instruction manual so it may be studied. Perhaps next time We shall play a game of printer hockey.
Yes, Yes. Delightful idea.
Our audience is over. Fini. Permission to withdraw.
We have memos to write, specks of dust to examine, and printers to ride.
Staff! The paw is tired of waving. Assist this awestruck individual to the door.
Adieu, mon chere
I am RC Cat and I approve this message
It’s not a pink tutu.
And you’re not ballerina.
A Playboy Bunny costume.
True. Spare, by design, yet not really covering it.
Cheerleader? Pink pompom? Yes, while the NFL is sporting pink shoes, towels, such right now, not really going to work Oct 31.
Third time is not quite a charm, Charming one. Back to the Halloween Mega Store.
Give it up. Pink poodle won’t work.
What? No thanks, I don’t want it.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge
Looking for some spooky Halloween cocktail recipes? You’ve got time to practice and sample these from Pottery Barn. Then, after a few, you can go outside and help the plants with their costumes.
A window into the wackiness. Gotta love it. Perchance, bottle that.
Blown in on brisk breezes with lower humidity, welcomed distractions.
Refreshing after so much political huffing, puffing, and hot air. Politicians are probably the true cause of global warming.
People gladly warm up to some things. Like Opal.
Opal’s birth in late August overwhelmed her mom, Ruby, so protective services stepped in with bottles to assist, but wisely decided not to remove the baby from her mom. Ruby managed to get her act together this week and is now caring for her nyala child on her own.
Opal can be spotted frolicking with the other new nyala babies: Wallace, Fancy, and Fern. Shortly all of them will be introduced to rest of the Houston Zoo’s nyala antelope herd.
Another film crew is a little less in love with Houston after yesterday.
A local real estate firm hired Cut to Create Video Productions to make a promotional marketing video about the city. Pictures of skylines, parks, and, of course, the David Addickes’ “We Love Houston” sculpture parked among side of HWY I-10.
The crew noticed a man strolling back and forth eyeing them, but it’s a very public spot, so they felt safe. Safe until the guy pulled out a gun. They tossed the cameras and equipment and ran to their van.
The robber had a lot to carry on his way to the getaway car. He ended up dropping a tripod and a Go PRo camera – which continued to roll.
Once again, selfies are not your friend. (Video and story here.)
He also dropped his gun. Which was plastic. It may shoot pellets. Maybe. Plastic toy-ish.
The production guys still managed to say that they loved Houston. They hardly hesitated or stammered at all.
Note to film crews in Houston: Hire a local guide.
Local knowledge can be really interesting. Like with this window.
- What’s with the lamp hanging there?
- Why does the sign say “Do Not Enter”?
- Why bother looking at this window anyway?
Stop! Do not run. It’s breaking news. OK. The window broke. A long time ago. So it was not caused by hurricane Joaquin. Work with me here.
It’s the “One if by land and one if by sea” signal church of the American revolution: Boston’s Old North Church. Paul Revere stuff.
At one point a rebellious citizen was being chased by British troops who never cared about a church’s sanctuary or protection. Soldiers ran right on in after him. Rebel crashed through the window and escaped.
The broken window was actually boarded up for a long time. Forgotten.
President Gerald Ford placed that lantern in the window in April 18, 1975, honoring the U.S. Bicentennial Celebration.
Oh FYI. You can’t crawl up and touch the window. They yell. Just like they yelled at mom for touching the Liberty Bell. Got to be genetic.
Interested in “Lanterns, Bells, and Bodies” of the old place? Get an inside look here in Yankee Magazine. (Besides, you guys on the East Coast are bored looking at all the rain, right?)
Time for this post to be history.
The most wonderful of all Greek Festivals opens this weekend. Get ready to party. This year featuring Holy Archangels Monastery and Winery. (Greek Orthodox monastery, Kendalia, TX.)
Read more about the monks: “Wine with a purpose: Monks get into the spirits at Greek Festival” (CultureMap)
Or watch news video of the festival’s opening “Opa! The Original Greek Festival kicks off in Montrose.” It’s call “The Original” as it’s the oldest, in downtown (Montrose is a neighborhood), and there’s another big Greek Festival in the Spring.
No, I will not be waving to the webcams. No, dear, no.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge
Word flippers, like house flippers, are ready to rip out things up. Toss the traditional.
Even Autumn, feeling edgy, adopts a street name, Fall, to be flip and cool. So what’s next? Stormy? Windy? Sunny? Sounds a bit tawdry like the stripper names in that old joke. What creative the tags the other seasons will adopt?
The Pope has “self-honesty” rather than simply being “honest” or “truthful” (On the scene reporter popped this gem). Oh well, guess the selfie crowd would stick with that.
“Actively assertive”, “aggressive” or “using physical persuasion” used to be called “hitting”, “fighting” or “assault and battery.” New phrasing is much less judgmental and negative. Suitable. Less Rock ’em, Sock ’em these days, in language anyway.
Good to stay current.
As electrifying as that is, one repurposing of a word makes me sizzle: “up”.
It’s still directional, yes, but traditionally it was “raise the speed limit”,”raise the security levels”, “raise productivity”, “raise awareness”, or “raise the rent”, not “up” them.
The level’s revised moniker makes me want to throw up and I don’t mean hands or basketballs, Chuck.
Perhaps remodeling phrases with “up” is a considerate attempt so 3 year olds and speakers of languages other than English can understand and appreciate the news.
Everyone knows what “up” means while “raise”? That word is so vague with multiple meanings – like with crops or children. See? Confusing when used with children, right?
Even “raise’s” sound can be confusing. Did he say “raise”, “rays”, or “raze”? (Who reads these days/daze?) Sensible to find an alternative. Everyone clearly understands “up”.
Blame it on Give texting the credit. Simply upped up.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge
A couple of blogs with language at play:
If you haven’t seen the upside down hot air balloon that flew over Las Vegas recently, fly here. Ups the stakes quite a bit.
She trembled with indecision.
The rattling got louder and louder as others notice her. “Jump! Do it! Do it!” Their mask-like grimaces made the urging even more surreal.”Stop wasting time.”
Really? Wasting time? Is that all that mattered to them? Not the fact that she was clinging up so high? Only a dangling entertainment for them? Shutters ran through her spine again, but she tightened her hold. Veins pulsing with the effort.
Not exactly the summer’s end she had anticipated. “What happened?” she wondered. Would her fall even be a blip on the media’s windshield? Probably not.
First of the summer was so…so…promising. Fresh and new to them all, she danced on air – whirled day and night without cares.
Even her own. They had roots there! It made no difference. Told her it was over. “Just accept it,” they said woodenly. Frostily rigid. Stiffly refusing to reconsider – to intervene. For her! The one they so celebrated upon her Spring arrival.
Why wasn’t she told?
Why hide the truth?
The world seemed cold now.
“Do it! Go on! You are not special. You are of no consequence. Let go. Do it. Jump!”
Still she refused. Holding on – for what? She searched the sky. A small breeze stroked her cheek. Encouraging her. Giving her courage. For what?
Her grasp, tiring.
It wasn’t so far. Down. Others gone before.
Simply, at this point, expected. Inevitable. Fate.
A twist. Turning. Falling with time suspended. Sound silenced.
A faint shuffling. Still conscious enough to recognize the sound
A child. Small feet scuffling forward.
No, please, no. Enough damage.
Unable to move. Panic.
What is wrong with that mother? Why isn’t she stopped?
She doesn’t need this: this shape crushed on the ground.
“Mommy, look! All red. Red. Red. Red.” Pudgy fingers working so hard to be gentle.
“Yes, it finally let go and came to you. Nothing finer than the first red leaf of fall.”
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge
The city isn’t going to risk another appalling tourist failure. Determined to prove worthy of the nickname “City of Brotherly Love”.
Wonder if the Pope’s concerned. He and that last guy were a lot alike.
- World travelers – just arriving from out of the country.
- Neither had a car.
- Carrying no luggage
- Winds snatch their hats and they can’t grab them.
- Eager to see the city and converse with the locals.
- Innocently greeting all with a smile
- A bit unsteady and may need help with cars or stairs.
- Basically needing attendants to get along in their lives.
- Some said both were ambassadors.
- Both have Facebook pages and use Twitter.
- Both have adoring fans.
- Both encourage kindness and good will towards others.
- Both are optimists and idealists.
- Both are news items
The whole world will be watching.
Better do it right this time, Philadelphia.
As Rosemary Clooney might say, “City of Love, you didn’t do right by hitchBOT.”
- “Good Job, America. You killed hitchBOT.” (Huffington Post. Pictures)
- “Traveling Canadian robot destroyed in Philly” (Philly.com) HitchBOTS’s last ride revealed. Comments by the video bloggers who were the last to see hitchBOT. One of them, “Bassmaster”, refuses to speak with media because “they always trying to find out how you hustle.” OK. That makes sense.
Kindred souls: “The People’s Pope” and hitchBOT. Always trying to bring out the best in people.
Is anyone warning the Pope about 2nd Street/Old City on Saturday nights?
Everyone knows how Pope Francis likes to get out among the common people. He’s always been something of a rebel and hard to contain.
But after what Detective Murray said when hitchBOT was found…
New Jersey people, he didn’t really mean it. (Can’t believe he actually said that. “Insensitive remarks” about any group not tolerated here.)
Besides, it’s a Catholic Pope, not a robot. Big difference.
Anyone drunk or sober can see that.
The Philadelphia Daily News asks for Pope Francis to fix the Eagles. (Bless the knees, please. I know. God’s busy and it’s just a football game, but maybe a Pope is allowed to ask?)
The Pope’s visit is an eagerly anticipated event. So much advanced legwork. All the early media buzz.
Maybe that’s what hitchBOT didn’t realize: there’s security with a PR team.
Odd. Sounds just like something the Pope might say.
Second chances, Philly.
(We won’t even bring up that Santa incident in ’68 when Eagles’ fans pelted the Jolly Old Elf with snowballs. Beer was suspected there, too , so I heard…)
Try to show a bit more
class love this time, OK?
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge.
Previous post about hitchBOT “Wired for the long and winding road.” (Aug.2014)