Head Rambles

Grandad July 11th, 2009

There was an item on the news during the week.

I watched it, had a great laugh and rendered a hearty ‘Aw, for fuck’s sake’ and went about my business.

The story continues to do the rounds though .

It is, of course the Holy Tree Stump.

For those of you who have been too wrapped up in trivial things like life, the story goes that a tree was felled in County Limerick as it was in a dangerous state.  Some gobshite then looked at the stump and declared that he could see The Virgin Mary.

Quite frequently, when I am coming home from the pub, I see wondrous things.  There is the local bulldog that, after ten pints bears a remarkable resemblance to Mary Harney, and only last Thursday I saw a hippopotamus climbing up the church steeple.  I don’t mention these things because presumably everyone else sees them too.

This prat however spread the word, and soon the innocent, the gullible and the plain stupid were flocking to see this apparition.

I have nothing against religion and people can believe what they want, but I do find it a tad weird that people should start making pilgrimages to venerate a tree stump.  There is now a petition with over a thousand signatures demanding that the stump be retained as a shrine.

I have looked long and hard at the photograph.  I must admit that after staring at it for over an hour I am beginning to see a shape appearing.  In fact I am prepared to admit that it does bear a remarkable resemblance to …… a tree stump.  Unless, of course the are referring to the blonde with the tits, but I don’t think so.

Of course there have been other occasions when people have attacked trees with various implements and have sworn blind that the result bears some kind of humanoid form, but I just can’t see it myself.

I feel very sorry for those people who are pinning their hopes on a lump of wood.

I shall include them in my prayers as I sit and meditate in front of my patch of black mould on the kitchen wall.

I swear that mould is a divine apparition.

It is the living image of God.

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Grandad July 10th, 2009

Me: Welcome back.

Laptop: Gee!  Thanks.  Like you care.

Me: There is no need for that attitude, and please don’t use those Americanisms.

Laptop: You send me off to that bloody hospital, and this is the kind of greeting I get on return?

Me: How are you, anyway?

Laptop: How the fuck do you think I am?  You send me off to that hell-hole where I get my heart ripped out.  How would you fucking feel?

Me: Don’t be so melodramatic.  It was only a hard disk replacement.

Laptop: Jeeeesus!!! It may only be a hard disk to you, mate, but to me it’s my whole essence; my being; my self.

Me: You’re worse than an old woman.

Laptop: Thanks for the card, by the way.

Me: What card?

Laptop: Exactly! I didn’t expect a visit, but you might have gone to the trouble of sending a get well card.

Me: They don’t make get well cards for laptops.

Laptop: Why the fuck not?  You humans really piss me off sometimes.

Me: Will you ever stop whinging?  You are home, aren’t you?

Laptop: With the warm welcome I’m getting, I’d be better off back in there.

Me: I can always overclock you?

Laptop: Aw! For fuck’s sake!

Me: Just behave.  OK?

Laptop: *sigh*

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Grandad July 9th, 2009

Why do I have this weird feeling that I’m waiting for something to happen?

It’s a sensation that something big is just around the corner.

It’s not a bad feeling.  I don’t think the world is going to end, just yet.

I have this idea that if I wait just a little bit longer, everything is suddenly going to be different.

Fucking weird!

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Grandad July 8th, 2009

Whatever happened to clocks on television?

There was a time when a clock would appear before every news, and occasionally between programmes.

It was something of a ritual in many homes where the pocket watch or the wrist watch was primed ready for the clock, so that time could be checked and set. 

For some inexplicable reason, they have done away with it, and I haven’t seen a clock for years.

You would imagine that they would replace it with some kind of digital thing on the screen coming up to the Six News.  It would be easy enough to superimpose on top of whatever crap they are showing?

They still have the pips on the radio the odd time, and last night, I had the radio on.  At six, it pipped and went into the news.  Herself wanted the television though, so I switched that on, and they were still running fucking advertisements.  After that, there was the angelus thing, and finally we had the news.  It must have been about three minutes late at that stage, and anyone who set their watch to that was fucked.

The only accurate way to check my watch now is to tune into RTE, and switch to Aertel [the text thing].  That always has a digital time in the corner and it is very accurate.  I know that because I used to play with RTE’s timing computer in the basement of the Radio Centre.  That is a huge yoke that is tied by microwave to Rugby in the UK, and is accurate to about a thousandth of a second.

I checked my watch just now.  I used the terrestrial signal, because the prats in RTE still don’t realise there is a few second delay on a satellite signal, so their clock is out on that one.   It’s the first time I checked since March, but the old yoke was still spot on, to the second.  It’s a good watch.

Just out of interest, I tried setting my computer’s clock using the Interweb.  That is a second slow!  Someone is wrong.

But why should I be so interested in accurate time?

There are several reasons for this.

I have to know exactly when the pub opens, for a start.  Pullit always opens the pub precisely at some time between nine and eleven.  He is very punctual.

Then I have to know when to give Herself her tranquilisers.

And of course, we all know that ballistic missiles require very precise timing?

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Grandad July 7th, 2009

So the electricians are on strike?

Normally I don’t bother my backside about strikes unless a) I’m involved or b) I’m affected.

As I have jumped ship on the employment scene, it is very unlikely that I will ever be involved in a strike again.  Thank God for that.  I had my fair share.

As I live in splendid isolation Up The Mountains, I am not generally affected by strikes, so I let them pass me by.

Actually this strike is quite simple.

The electricians claim they are due over 11% of a raise since April 2007, and the employers say there is a recession and they can’t afford it.

The solution is obvious.

Pay the electricians their 11%, back dated to April 2007, and then slam them with a 10% pay cut.  That way, they get their pay rise and all that’s due to them, and the employers get their cuts.  Everyone is happy.

What concerns me about the current [pun intended] situation is that other industries are being affected.

Cadbury’s have ceased production of their chocolate in Coolock.  I don’t eat much chocolate, so I don’t give a shit [and maybe there is a connection there?]

Guinness have also been put under threat and here is where I come in.  I cannot allow this.  I cannot stand by while my staple diet is put in danger.  This strike MUST end.

My big fear is that the strike will spread to the power stations.  If that happens, we will be back to the glory days of black outs and brown outs.

I need my electricity.

I need it to connect to the Interweb.

I need it to boil my kettle for tea.

I need it to run my various other appliances.

I need it for my hobby.

This strike must end and it must end NOW.

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