Head Rambles

Grandad December 20th, 2009

I was going to write an insightful piece today about an article in the Sunday Times about blogging in Ireland.

Then I toyed with the idea of doing my own counter-article.

But I am too fucking cold.

There is a gale blowing in through the broken window [I know I should have fixed it, but Herself claims she knows nothing about glazing] and I swear three castrated brass monkeys just walked past outside.  The snow is beginning to drift up against the leg of the table.

The car is still a bit iffy, so the village is out.  All I have in the house is a spare can of Guinness.  Knickers.

I think it is about time to cash in on the time of year.

I think I may just wander around to a neighbour’s house with my can of Guinness and wish them Season’s Greetings.

Of course the poor saps will feel obliged to invite me in. 

They usually have a warm house.

And a grand stock of drink.

Heh!

• Rambles
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Grandad December 19th, 2009

I noticed the car was a little sluggish when starting it yesterday morning.

I was going to Puppychild’s school play, which is important, so I didn’t have time to do anything about it.

 
Puppychild being an angel for a change.

The car drove perfectly to the school, and started perfectly after, so I didn’t think any more about it.  Batteries can sometimes be temperamental, especially when it is as cold as it was yesterday.

Last night I went for a few pints.  It was a pleasant evening.  The pints flowed, the chat was good and a merry evening was had by all.  Until it was time to go home again.

The fucking car battery was as dead as a dodo.

There is nothing worse than being stuck in the village with a dead car in the small hours of the morning.  What was worse, Spanner wasn’t around and he was the only person around with jump leads.  What the fuck was I to do?

I did the only sensible thing.

There was a car there.  I don’t know who owned it, but it wasn’t one of the regulars so I ‘borrowed’ it.  You can take it from me that it is not the easiest thing to hot-wire a car when you have around eight pints on you and your fingers are frozen to the marrow.  I don’t know how I did it, to be honest. 

I returned that car this morning [it was a heap of shite anyway].  Spanner was around so we jump started mine, and it is now sitting in the front garden with the battery charger running flat out.

I fucking hate winter.

• On the road
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Grandad December 18th, 2009

Today was school play day.

*sigh*

It reminded me of the time when I first took to the boards.

When I was a nipper, I was condemned for a year to Ring College, which is a Gulag in Waterford where they speak nothing but Irish.

At the end of October, they had a tradition where the parents were invited down for a sort of open day.  This was grand for us because for one day at least we didn’t have to wear chains, and we actually got fed.  Part of this open day was a play put on by the inmates pupils.

I got a call a couple of weeks before the open day to go to the commandant’s headmaster’s office.  I knocked and entered and the commandant headmaster says to me “Say this: what is the way to Dungarvan” [in Irish, of course].  I was a bit surprised by this, because I knew he was a local and should know the way to the local town, but I didn’t fancy another week in solitary, so I told him.  He got very irate and demanded that I try again.  What he never bothered telling me was that this was an audition, and that I was supposed to ask with great drama, what the way to Dungarvan was.  Having told him the route in great detail, several times, he finally threw me out.

With a logic that defies all explanation, I was cast in the lead role.

Of course I had a mountain of script to learn.  I was never the best when it came to learning stuff off by heart, and this was compounded by the fact that it was all in a foreign language, as at that stage, my knowledge of Irish was barely sufficient to ask if I could go to the toilet.

The night of the play was a fiasco.

The hall was crowded and my time came to enter [stage left].  Naturally my mind went a complete and utter blank.  I frantically whispered for some hints, but the others were as clueless as I, and I found myself wordless and clueless on a spotlit stage in front of a large hall packed with parents.

I improvised.

Improvisation is easy enough, unless you are doing it in a foreign language in which case it is next to fucking impossible.

The evening passed without incident.  The parents hadn’t a clue what was going on anyway, as they couldn’t speak Irish either, so I survived.  What’s more, I only got three weeks in solitary, with bread and water and it could have been a lot worse.

It was a long fucking time before I took to the boards again.

• Times past
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Grandad December 17th, 2009

According to popular ‘consensus’ the world is heading for its greatest tragedy in the history of mankind.

The scenario is that millions are going to die and thousands of species are going to be eradicated.  Billions of square miles of the planet are to become uninhabitable and life will be so radically changed for all of us as to be unrecognisable.  Already billions are being spent to try to reverse this.

This is surely an apocalyptic scenario?

And here is where I want an answer to a very simple question.

If I were diagnosed with a virulent cancer and the prognosis were grim and the only way to survive is to have both arms and both legs amputated what would I do?  Would I immediately book myself in for surgery or would I ask for a second opinion?  Would I be sensible if I were to go for those amputations if I heard that many eminent surgeons were saying that I don’t have cancer at all and that it is just normal aging affecting me?

If I were the leader of the world and I were presented with the evidence for climate change what would be my most sensible recourse?  Would I immediately call together all the heads of state and demand that they mend their ways to avoid the impending tragedy?  Or would I plough all my resources into research to discover the precise extent of the problem?

There is increasing evidence that not only is Global Warming a completely natural event but that in fact that the figures are all wrong and that the world has been cooling for the last ten years.  There is an increasing number of eminent scientists that claims the calculations are not only in error but that they have been deliberately falsified.

If I were World Leader I would be delighted with this news.  Here is a ray of hope.  I would immediately call a world conference of scientists, both AGW believers and AGW skeptics and would have them debate the issue.

Why on earth would I be insane enough to not only deny the skeptics’ claims but to even refuse to listen to them?

If I received a letter from a large group of scientists and professors refuting the AGW stance I would halt all discussions and have the letter thoroughly investigated.

So here is my very simple question.

Why are the skeptics being ignored?  How can there be global consensus where there is obviously a large body of dissent?

WHY IS THERE NO DEBATE?

Whether you are a believer or not, that surely must be puzzling?

• Global Warming
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Grandad December 16th, 2009

I have never made any secret of the fact that I love animals.

I love them all, with the possible exception of Jedward and guinea pigs that twang the bars of their cages.

I was delighted to hear then that they are banning deer hunting in Ireland.  Not that it makes much difference as most people ignore the law anyway.

I was a bit puzzled when I heard the Ward Hunt in North Dublin were complaining about this though.  I thought they were similar to the Moorhouse Hunt in Bray and the McDonagh Hunt in Mullingar, and confined themselves purely to two legged animals, but I must be mistaken.

I love deer in particular, and am at a loss as to how people can hunt them.  They are majestic beasts and are kings of the mountains.

I would ask you to look at the following two pictures.

Now answer me this.

Which of these is the most majestic?

Which of these is a positive addition to the scenery?

Which of these is gentle, quiet and unobtrusive?

Which of these should be eradicated from the mountain tops?

There is no doubt about it.

The War on Tourism must continue.  It was the only good thing that Dubya ever started.  I’m all behind Obama sending in more troops.  Tourists must be eradicated from the face of the earth.  They are a scourge on mankind.

I am stepping up my campaign.

And I’m adding deer hunters [officially] to my list.

• Tourists
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