Nobody really needs

a relationship
except to hold
as some kind of property
or else be beholden
and some kind of property
and (most often) breed
the most intense
and expensive kind of
personal property.

People, people,

coming and going
rushing and crushing
crammed with stories
banal tales
that they believe
that they want to believe
that others have made them believe
Stories
clattering, battering,
charging, enlarging
inside the rinds
of their skulls
until they escape
and penetrate
ever more minds.

Astérix, he say :

Katz is Vermin.
Not just a sermon -
he is doing his Belgian best
to eradicate this pesky pest.

(Be grateful!)

NOM D'UN CHIEN !

999 is the emergency number in the UK and Ireland
and the number of names of holy Astérix,

which include

As the Terrible, Cuddly, Importunate
Basho
Genghiz
Inshallah
Bonzo
Sibelius
Vjetoslav
Sweetie
Wargle
Wolverine
Muesli
Toutou
Crocus
Nymble
Rug of the Future
The We of Me
The You of Us
Love-starved
Jalaluddin
Killer
Dishcloth
Noodle
Tiddlyballs
Megabyte
Shadow
Dongle
Archeopteryx
Honey
Hyena
Doodah
Kissydog
Grollicle
Argus
Pongo
Pascal
Rascal
Rajah
Holiness
Catfood
Rover
Cerberus
BigSilly
Rex
Hoxha
Jampot
BigEars
Issa
Snoopy
Loopy
Dr Doolittle
Dog
Omar
Gorgeous
Happy
Hungry
Trotsky
Lucky
Wolfgang
Woozle
Diogenes
Magnus
Tiglath Pileser
Pocopatepetl
Buster
Bosun
Einstein
Doolally
Bilbo
Smidgewidge
Ujku
Rimbaud
Sirius
Farty Doodlet
Tattybogle
Jack the Ripper
Djugashwilly
Aneurin
Bambi
Douglas Fur
Oisín
Bangalore
Jabberwocky
Pussycat
Saint-Roch
Redeemer
Ludo...

When the clocks go forward

it is time to visit my grave.

click picture to enlarge

(It will be time to die

when incompetence

catches up with incontinence.)

Not-quite-Reductionism.

There are just two kinds of religion:
the old and the less-old.
The less-old are religions of belief
(Christianity, Islam)
while the old are religions of practice
(all others, including Judaism).
This difference has created modern history
through colonialism which has made Jesus
the Antichrist, and Mohamed
the enslaver.

https://aeon.co/essays/how-an-obscure-oriental-cult-converted-a-vast-pagan-roman-empire

Two sentences from 'The Color Purple':

[God] just sit up there glorying in being deef, I reckon.

The last thing niggers want to think about they God is that his hair is kinky.

I have never understood why coloured people took and take so enthusiastically to a joyless white (and joyless white men's. tight-lipped white women's) god. Is it 'just' self-oppression ?  Or Stockholm Syndrome ?  Or both ?

"Our hearts go out...

to the victims"
- like drones over Iraq ?

Donald Trump in 1981.

"Man is the most vicious of all animals,
and life is a series of battles ending in victory or defeat.
You just can't let people make a sucker out of you."

What a pathetic statement!
The first eight words are incontrovertible,
but Mr Trump in his (continuing) naivety
seemed to be unaware of the delightful arts of subterfuge:
blending in with the surroundings, pretending to be "suckers" and hiding in the cracks,
as billions of us do,  even the "vicious" tiger -
striped to merge with the forest shadows...
but a lot of good that has done it - because of the most vicious of animals. 
I think the obviously-unfulfilled Trump is the sucker!

We should have known

that The Enlightenment
was a dead end.
Just look at the stupidity
the controlled sterility
of French formal gardens.

Psychedelic !

Hairy lobster - Galathea pilosa

Venomous Blue-ringed octopus - Hapalochlaena lunulata.

Heard on the wireless:

Stoic Seneca
was booted out
of Rome
to exile on Corsica
by the Emperor Caligula*.

*Caligula means little boot, because of special miniature military hob-nailed boots made for him when he was a little boy accompanying his father Germanicus on military campaigns.

One of the many good book-titles

that I have dreamed up in idle moments is this
one for a typical blood-and-sex thriller:
Mr Killer Wants a Kiss.

Just two of many interesting comparisons.

Whereas
Anglophones have the phrase
to wash one's dirty linen in public
Francophones have
to wash one's dirty linen in private
(rather than in the communal lavoir).

Whereas
Anglophones say
Dog eats dog
Francophones say
Wolves don't eat other wolves.

Always remember:

Reporters are vampires.

This cute caterpillar...

known as the Hickory Horned Devil,

turns into

The Royal Walnut Moth.

(borrowed from http://eduardo-.tumblr.com)

This is Colorado -

but it looks strangely like the West of Scotland or Ireland !

(photo by Almina Kaselis)

English orthography is much more bizarre than Trump,

            sez Astérix.

"I chaste a flokk of guses this mourning.  
They flue up in the ayr and honked.
I luvd it.
I chaste a kat.
It wuz grait.
I chaste anuther kat.
Whair doe al the kats kum from ?  Thair ar far 2 menny.
Old ladys leeve kruntchees out for strey wuns.
I eet the katz kruntchees.
Mebbe thail dy.
I stoal kreem from the kreemjug.
Ime a grate fello.
Boss luvs me.

Ime boared."

This splendid book-title

SVĚT JAKO VĚDOMÍ A NIC
(the world as consciousness and nothing)

says it all.  No need for any text.

Before the (Very Interesting) French Presidential Elections

the Political Poster Board has to be cleared from the last election.

France is so civilised that the fly-posting of political posters is illegal.
Each commune or village has its board, on which all the candidates are pictured
together with their banal slogan.
There is no (USA, Philippines, India-style) television-advertising, either.
My prediction is that Marine le Pen will win, thus upsetting the smug apple-cart
of Western Liberal Values in Europe, and threatening the fake cohesion
of the European Union - of which, I should say, I am an absurdly-keen supporter.

"I'll see myself out"

is a common dramatic
mostly televisual trope
that's rarely heard in actual life
(at least I've never heard it).

My mother used to say
that a coat would "see her out"
meaning that it would outlast her
(as would the planet).

"See myself out" I will -
for the nothingness of death
itself is heaven.

The Good Anarchist

locks nothing,
least of all his lips.

History is not a solid...

...so there is no "wrong side".

On Inner Dialogue.

There is much mention by orientalist new-agers and quasi-mystics
about 'clearing your mind' and 'stopping the inner dialogue' through meditation.
It could be argued that the problems of the world are caused by lack of inner dialogue,
encouraged by the narrow single-mindedness (or indeed mindlessness) of politics and education.
Evil comes from deliberate suppression of thought acting through the thoughtless,
and the banality of evil is sheer human reproductiveness.

It would never be a straw

that would break a camel's back
(as it passed through the Needle's Eye*)
but sheer and terrible fatigue.

[ * The name of a narrow street in Jerusalem.]

We hate randomness

but whether this is a result of civilisation
or its origin is difficult to judge. It seems to me
that the function of civilisation is to protect
the powerful, "the élites" from randomness
by persuading or forcing, through famine
(which rarely occurs outside civilisation),
the less assertive to be human shields,
and making them believe that their sacrifice
is for the Common Good.

True failure

is the inability
or unwillingness
to live with our endemic
moral failings.


*** We apologise to our thousands of readers for an absence of blog for the last two days.
This was due to circumstances beyond our control, such as old age, innumeracy, the mild weather, a missing calendar, and the inscrutable but incontrovertible plan of the Great God Astérix.

Extract from a Correspondence between Rocky and Asterix

I've decided on a new hobby Gardening. Me and my owner were very busy last week with clearing up the rough ground in the orchard, i.e ivy (which had fallen down during storm 'Doris') and digging up a lot of nettle roots etc. Then we were transplanting some of the plants that were getting waterlogged in the lawn to the newly created space. I was sniffing out good spots for where to put the plants and was very busy directing the wheelbarrow to my chosen places. I think we have done a pretty good job and maybe I'll consider a new career in Canine Gardening (the only thing is all the muck, it makes my paws sooo dirty!)
But it is not so exciting as catching a ball or a Frisbee.

My ears stood up too when I was a puppy. I was very embarrassed when I looked at myself and thought I will never look like a Border Collie. But then bit by bit they dropped down and I was very relieved. Your ears are how they should be and are very lovely.

The weather has been up and down, one day Spring and next day winter. We even had a bit of sleet this morning. Well, it is the last day of Winter, so hopefully Spring will be arriving tomorrow. 

Hope you two are well and look after each other - 

From your Hundefreund Rocky and mein Frauchen und Herrchen

Liebe Hundefreunde Rokki und Frauchenli + Herrchenli,

Chers ami canin Roqui et ses Parrains (ou parents ?  humans should give birth to more dogs) 

It seems I have been speaking the wrong language.  I am told that I am definitely a Mechelse Herder van Vlaanderen en ijk spreke vlaamse.  C’est à dire un chien Berger Malinois (Malines=Mechelen, a town south of Antwerpen/Anvers). 

I was very impressed by your ears when you were young.  They look even better than mine – perhaps.  (Thanks for the compliment.  I like compliments.  Don’t you admire my tail ?Maybe one of your ancestors came from Belgium or Germany ?  Maybe they are Prussian Ears, very straight and upright and pointed J   

On Saturday I went to the Veterinary Clinic about 10 km away and I met a lovely woman called Huguette.  She is Belgian (Walloon) and she can read books in French, Dutch, German and English, because I saw them on her bookshelf.  She radiates love.  My Driver fell in love with her.  Apparently everyone is in love with her.  She gave me nice tasty meaty-sweeties because I am such a beautiful and good dog.   I have been limping, and she says I may have Arthritis in my right shoulder.  I have been taking Metacam (hidden in lumps of meat, though I’m not supposed to know that), but I am still limping.  I go back tomorrow and may get X-Rayed.  I was nearly an hour with Huguette (who specialises in dogs and pigs – Frau Schweinundhunddoktor ? ; her Dutch partner specialises in funless cats, and an English man specialises in horses and donkeys and big creatures like that) while she weighed me (I am 28 kg, almost half the weight of my Driver and Valet) and examined my gorgeous fur.  

My turds are now firmer and not so wet.   I chased a hen and it died.  Its name was Dolly. 

I too have been helping with gardening.  My Dogsbody (Faktotum – this is Latin, you know) and I dug a hole and he put a plant in it at our Guerrilla Garden just 100 metres away.  I found a dog-turd under one of the plants. I have met a lot of dogs lately, all of them much quieter than those at the Shelter.  There was a very nice lady dog I met this morning who fancied me.  Perhaps she likes male dogs with Very Small Testicles.  (Eierchen ? Schrumpelklöten ?) (On the other hand I have a nice, large  furry willy (Piller, Piepel, Pillermann, Zipfel, Lümmel, Schniedelwutz - nicht nolens volens which is Latin, you know – I am a Highly-Educated Dog and read about Odysseus and Argus and Cerberus and Anubis - amongst others - in my ample spare time) which all the lady dogs and humans can admire.)  Sorry about all the brackets – I hope they don’t confuse a poor Border Collie with Prussian ancestry.

I have to confess that I am as Scaredy as you.  I don’t like anything tubular (walking-stick, kitchen-roll core) nor do I like big plastic bags or frying-pans.  I am also scared of friendly bearded gentlemen if they approach me.  I wonder if they are really friendly, and don’t want to take any risks.  Women with big handbags are dangerous, too. 

I, too, thought Spring might be arriving.  There are violets everywhere.  But today there was rain, and there will be rain tomorrow.  My Dogsbody is pleased because he says there hasn’t been enough rain this winter.  I believe that some dogs  are Scared of rain, but I don’t mind it.  I am a brave dog.  But Thunder is a terrible thing and I have to hide under the table.  Life is full of dangers even when One is Protected by an aged Bearded Factotum – one who does not give me enough food. (I can’t remember when I last ate anything.  His mind is probably away somewhere else hunting kittens or rabbits or even oliphaunts – but not for me!  I am told that dogs are very good for Old Humans with wandering minds, but I have no intention of becoming a Faktotum.)

Here is a picture of me waiting patiently for my dinner…or for a kitten to come and be chased… 

Ever your multilingual and Very Brave Vlaamse Freund - with Erect Ears,

Astérix.

PS My paws never seem to get dirty.  I think they are self-cleaning.

Waiting Patiently for My Dinner - or Something Interesting to Happen.