NEW POST - THE MUSIC CURMIDGEON

 Look, indulge the old guy as he's feeling a bit out of it.

HELP!

WHAT?

 We each had our second Pfizer Coronavirus-19 shot yesterday. It was very well organised and speedy. This time, I guess because of the lockdown, it was done as a drive-through.

With the first one I had no complications and, apart from a slightly sore arm for the second one there was nothing amiss until ....... last night my tinnitus was so bad it sounded like a jet engine roaring in my head. I also went deaf in one ear and could hardly hear out the other. It was maddening.

I suffer from tinnitus but usually the noise in my head is a cross between whistling and a running cistern. Sometimes it sounds like cicadas. I'm used to it but last night it was really disturbing.

The Old Girl suggested that it could be due to the vaccine, an idea that I immediately poo-poohed.

When she left the room though I checked on the internet and, sure enough, in trials of the different vaccines, Pfizer and another had a side effect of causing temporary tinnitus or exacerbating that experienced by those who already have it.  I apologised to The Old Girl.

Today, after a good night's sleep my hearing has returned and the tinnitus is back to its normal level.

 

NEW SERIES COMING SOON

 Yes, you read that right. A new series will be starting soon. I'd keep posted if I were you.

We have to go out to get our second Covid-19 jab this afternoon but, with luck, I'll start the series later today.

Meanwhile, here's something for you to chew on:

"SO, WHAT'S FOR MY BIRTHDAY?" ....

.... I asked The Old Girl last night.

"You got a PlayStation 4 and some PS4 games" she replied, indignantly. 

"I just sold those on Trade Me" I said.

"Oh" she replied.

"So, what's for my birthday?" 

That riveting dialogue went on last night after I sold the PS4  console and the games I bought on Trade Me over the last few weeks.

I found that the action games (first person shooter) were making me feel ill - a syndrome called 'Gaming Sickness'. See my previous post: HERE

The Red Dead Redemption Two game I bought separately turned out to be a technical nightmare in trying to load the thing. On-line referencing showed that many others have had the same issue. As I decided I wasn't going to buy any more PS4 games I thought I might as well get rid of the lot or, 'throw my toys out of the cot" as The Old Girl referred to it.

All I wanted to do was to get my money back so I set the 'Buy Now' prices to reflect this and to cover the courier cost, Ping commission and Trade Me sell fees. I came out a few dollars ahead but retained the excellent PlayStation headphones that came with the console I bought. These are great and, checking on-line I discovered that those alone were worth about $140. I'm most pleased.

I set up the sales yesterday afternoon - one for the console and attachments and the other for the four PS4 games and immediately there were people viewing, saving and asking questions on them. Both were sold last night. Beauty.

So, what's for my birthday?

NEW POST - THE LITERARY CURMUDGEON

 

MY LIFE AS A PENCIL - HAIKU

MY LIFE AS A PENCIL

 

No, just kidding. This post is about being bored under lockdown but I can't imagine anyone being that bored that they would take up Richard's little challenge to write an essay on 'My Life as a Pencil'.

Northland has been included with Auckland in the Level 4 Lockdown law. This means that for at least the next two weeks I won't be able to play golf or tennis, go to see a film, go kayaking or have an affair with the woman next door. Note: One of those was made up.

I might have to read some more of Richard's blog posts or, heaven forbid, read Robert's posts although I don't comment on those.

I'll have to find something to do though as already that pencil essay challenge is nagging at me. The Literary Curmudgeon, The Curmudgeon Express, The Blue Man, The Wine Guy, The Twitter Curmudgeon and The Food Curmudgeon will all be in my head soon saying "Write something. Anything to keep that old guy happy."

No, not yet. I'm listening to music through my headphones while writing this and had a thought- "I can do that".

I might take up playing the double bass or the violin.

I mean, how hard could that be? Just drag a bow across some strings and make some nosies.

Chris's wife Sue told me that it's a piece of cake and that if I needed any advice then she could help me out.

It's worth a thought.

AN INTERVIEW WITH CRUSHER

 

Today The Curmudgeons Inc.ⓒ has Judith Collins. leader of the opposition party in for a chat.

Collins (JC) and The Curmudgeon (TC) are sitting in the back lawn at McLeod Bay. The Old Girl was asked to bring out tea and scones but refused to because she detests Judith Collins,  doesn't like the National Party and is unhappy about the state of the back lawn.

TC: Welcome Judith, may I ...

JC: Call me Crusher.

TC: What? Oh, OK ... er ...crusher.

JC: With a capital C thanks.

TC: Oh, OK ...Crusher.

JC: That's better. What can I do for you?

TC: Ha ha .... an allusion to JFK there? "Don't ask what your country can do for ..."

JC: No. Get on with it.

TC: Thinking - "rude"  Well Jud ..Crusher, about this Covid-19 lockdown, what ..

JC: Bollocks!

TC: What? Do you ..

JC: Bollocks. I've never had time for them. Mine are bigger anyway ...

TC: Ha ha, that's what I say to Richard about things up here, I say ..

JC: Jacinda and Covid-lockdown. A load of bollocks. It's all just another way to keep control and to ram that bloody Te Raro stuff down our throats, we ...

TC. Te Reo.

JC: What? Never mind - I'm actually sick and tired of people talking about me and who is going to be the leader of the National Party - I'm the leader of the National Party - why don't they just get their heads around that and get on with the job?

TC: Um, I never actually asked ab...

JC: I've had a gutsful of people speculating that I won't be leader for much longer. Every time people talk about that sort of crap, all they do is that they give comfort to the Labour Party left.

TC: Ookaay. Let's move along there shall we. Who do you think your supporters are?

JC: I'm glad that you asked that Conundrum, I ..

TC: Curmudgeon.

JC" What?

TC: You called me Conundrum. My name is Curmudgeon. The Curmudgeon. I ..

JC: Whatever - look my supporters are many and they love me they ..

TC: But your support has dwindled to 7% and the National Party support to 17%. Surely ..

JC: I've got a whole new class of supporters coming my way Sonny Jim and don't you forget it. Everyday I get new letters from people who once upon a time were Labour supporters and now they have seen the light under my bustle.

TC: Bushel.

JC: What?

TC: The word is bushel bit I don't see what ..

JC: What the hell is a bushel?

TC: I don't exactly know but I think the saying is: "If you hide your light under a bushel, you keep your abilities or good qualities hidden from other people." (under his breath - "and man you've got a lot of bushel there to hide it under" he thought catching a glimpse of JC's ample proportions.)

JC: These ex Labour ...

TC: Give me an example.

JC: Well, they particularly come from satellite cities like Hamilton, Manukau and .. yes, Lower Hutt. Basically ex working class towns that have grown bigger so that the ex working and union classes that we got rid of (as status) now think that they are individual contractors and businessmen in their own right. Old Muldoon would have loved that. These people became disillusioned with Labour when the country's assets were privatised and we saw the growth of capitalism like never-before ..

TC: Hold on, hold on, that was in the 1980s and was the machinations of that dangerous fool Roger Douglas. Surely you don't think ..

JC: I do. I do think and I think that my new supporters don't think. If they want to believe that Labour has become, paradoxically a socialist or communist party and a right wing reactionary party in the pocket of big business capitalism who am I to dissuade them?

TC: But that's dishonest. Surely ..

JC: Don't be a boy scout. Politics is about power and if these people from say, Moera want to believe that Labour is bad, that Jacinda is taking things away from them and that, contrary to their best interests they will support me and National then why shouldn't I grab that and run with it?

TC: Who else supports that idea?

JC: The Catholic Church obviously and most other rel..

TC: The church? What? Surely the church should be on the side of the masses who with the right guidance can .... oh .... I see. Clever.

JC: Thanks

TC: It's looking like rain Crusher and I notice your bodyguards getting a bit antsy down there by the car. We'd best wrap this up now.

JC: OK Conjunction .. do you think ..

TC: Curmudgeon.

JC: What?  Do you think you'll vote for me and National at the next election?

TC: Only when Hell freezes over.

JC: Ha ha, a double whammy atheist joke there. I like it.

TC: I thought you would. Bye now.

THE BIG SMOKE*

 * No, not the city.

This is from a big fire that raged up here yesterday.

Isn't that a fascinating photograph? It was taken by the local newspaper and I'm sure will be seen again at photographic competitions.

The chopper was filling the water bucket from the bay and dousing the flames from a very large scrub fire not far away. The local fire station alarm sounded twice within a half hour and all of the resources were sent plus at least one machine from town.

Exciting stuff.

It all goes on in The Heads

JUST TRYING TO MAKE SENSE OF IT ALL*

 * Not Covid-19 or the lockdown. I'm trying to make sense of this 'like what' bob wrote in his blog bob's blog.

"As I walked the dog along the river this morning I listened to Fr Mike. He came up with a couple of good bits of advice.

"Better to eat herbs than eat a fattened bull from someone that is hateful".

"A mother is as happy as her saddest sibling"

Now I'm no Einstein but neither am I stupid. Those two sayings just don't make sense to me.

I'd rather eat herbs (assuming it means a salad) than a 'fattened bull' any-day regardless of who owned the bull.

The second statement got itself confused (as did Father Mike and bob). The word shouldn't be 'sibling' but should be 'child as in: "A mother is as happy as her saddest child".

You can read the post in question HERE where you will discover where that statue that was at Blackfriars Priory School in Adelaide got to.

Now maybe hidden in bob's garden in Moera.

WALKING

 I went for  a nice walk this morning along the Reotahi loop track. It's only about 3kms but I've been a bit lazy recently so have to easy myself (and my dodgy knee) back into it.

Everything was as usual except for the absence of boating activity due to lockdown. The longer this goes on the better for the cleanliness of the water which once again is showing up nice and clear. Last year after the month and a half lockdown, motor boats couldn't spill diesel and churn up sediment. See: HERE

There are some steep sections on the track so I take my trusty Kathmandu hiking stick.

This has a nifty screw-in bit at the top for attaching a camera when you want to get a nice steady shot. You can use the stick like a tripod. I'd show you this but my camera is in the study and The Old Girl is in there on a conference call.

Just for the information of some of the readers - I didn't break my wrist from holding on to the strap the wrong way and I didn't have to use the stick to ram down the throats of attacking dogs. Just so you know.

At the top of the track I sat at my favourite spot viewing the bay.

Unfortunately the view is marred by an ugly ship at anchor.

Apparently it's a fishing boat that the owner has 'parked' there as he doesn't want to pay port charges. I hope that the local council or marine authorities get rid of it. Maybe they'll give him a ticket and tow it away.

Anyway, the view was still OK so I sat and enjoyed it for a few minutes.

On the way up the road I saw this and wondered if junk food cravers would soon be queuing up in the driveway.

Maybe bob can tell me.

How's your day going?

COME IN SPINNER

I was reminded of something today when something amused me.

Years ago when I was in Australia on a business trip with my boss, after dinner one evening we went to a casino. It was in Adelaide. We had some drinks and played a few games, one of which was 'Two Up'. This is an Australian game where a designated 'spinner' throws two pennies up in the air. Punters bet on whether the coins will fall with both heads up, both tails up, or with one coin a head and one a tail.

Anyway, we were playing this game, and winning when a young and rangy guy, who was a bit pissed got a bit belligerent as he was losing. He turned to my old boss and said "God you'e an ugly bastard!" My boss, to be fair, wasn't Robert's god's gift to womenkind but I thought it was a bit on the nose of this guy to bring that to everyone's attention.

My boss who was, and is, a good twelve years older than me, at the time would have been in his mid fifties. He's a big guy, very smart and accomplished and was a regional representative rugby player in his day. He has hands like baseball mitts and, even in his fifties could have dealt with that scrote with one of those hands. He chose to say to the belligerent and younger man "Hey, steady on."

There was a bit of banter back and forth and the potentially tense situation was diffused. We moved on, had a nightcap' and went back to our hotel.

This boss, who was very successful in his career had/has a great philosophy on life both business and family. Some of the sayings he had still stick with me:

• As long as they leave you with enough (when considering employee theft.
• You can take the first shot but make it count (when in confrontational situations).
• Family is what counts most.

Like old Bruce Campbell, my very early boss at Murray Roberts & co. this guy was inspirational and I owe a lot to him in my career and the way that I have seen people both in business and in general.

So, moving on.

After that particular Australian business trip, and when I was back in Christchurch giving The Old Girl a 'debrief', when it came to my recount of the casino scene I could hardly describe it through uncontrollable laughter. Every-time I mentioned what the scrote said I started laughing and couldn't get the words out. For a long time afterwards, every-time The Old Girl and I talked about this I would end up in fits of laughter.

As I write this, tears are welling up in my eyes and I can hardly read the screen (my apologies for spelling mistakes).

What's that about?

"MY HEAD IS SPINNING"

DIZZY

No tennis today.

No golf either.

I should go out walking but haven't been bothered so far. I've been reading - A Country Practice by Patrick Taylor. This is a series of books set in the 1960's in Ulster, Northern Ireland about a couple of village GPs. It's kind of like All Creatures Great and Small - James Herriot's vet series. It's gentle and whimsical, just the thing for lockdown.

I've kept away from the news so far but no doubt will get a lot of it from 4PM onwards.

I just checked the mailbox. The PS4 game I bought on-line hasn't turned up yet. Red Dead Redemption II. Bummer.

The games that came free with the PS4 I bought on Trade Me - Battleground, The Division and another are first person shooter games that make me dizzy and nauseous. This never used to happen with the Medal of Honour-type games I used to play on PS2 and PS3 and I wondered if it has something to do with the stroke I had.

I checked on-line and, apparently it is a thing. There is a syndrome called 'Gaming Sickness'.

WHY VIDEO GAMES MAKE YOU SICK

Adults who play or watch their kids play video games have been increasingly reporting motion sickness symptoms—headache, nausea, dizziness, sweating and more. Even people who have been playing video games since they were a kid can experience nausea, dizziness and other symptoms, especially with some of the newer games.

The solutions suggested are to:

• Watch or play in a well-lit and well-ventilated room.
• Sit farther back from the screen.
• Take breaks and get fresh air or a glass of water.
• Ease yourself into new games, staying active for only 5 minutes at first, then slowly increasing the time you play or watch.
• Adjust game settings regarding field of view or sensitivity of movement.
• Choose games that are in third-person perspective.
• Try medications or other methods of relieving movement-caused nausea.

It's the last solution that interests me. The gaming industry, worth billions, won't just sit back and do nothing. I'm sure that it will be heavily lobbying the medical and pharmaceutical industries to come up with a quick-fix solution - Gaming drugs. The industry stands to lose a lot of income unless a solution is found. Watch this space.

While more pharmaceuticals, particularly if promoted towards young people is a worry, there may be some positive spins off this. The symptoms of vertigo, motion sickness and other ailments including maybe anxiety, headaches and strokes may be helped by any advancements in this field. The Old Girl suffers from an inner ear problem that can cause vertigo and motion sickness. I get the odd migraine and a couple of years ago had a vertigo-like stroke.There hasn't been, to date, a lot of advancement in pharmaceuticals for these. With billions of dollars of video games at stake maybe, at last we'll see some improvements.

OH DEAR

 "THE PEOPLE ARE SHEEP"

 "FUCK JACINDA"

  "TYRANNY"

  ....... read the signs written  in large print I saw attached to  a fence outside a field on my way into town this morning.

"Whaa...?" I said to myself, braking from the (just a tad over) 100 K.P.H. I was going at.

"Bastard" I thought (I don't always talk to myself)  "I'll sort that out on my way back."

I continued into town, shopping at Countdown, Bin Inn and Mobil for essentials and headed back home. After the 50 K.P.H. section ended and the 100 K.P.H. started I slowed down and prepared to pull over.

I was all set to park the car, cross the road (with care as it is 100 K.P.H.) and tear down the offensive (to me anyway) signs. I coasted along. But.....they were gone. Bastards!

Well, not 'bastards' as in the bastards who put the sign up but 'bastards' as in someone beat me to do what I'd psyched myself up to do .... you know what I mean ..... um ...... oh, I've got tears welling up here. There are people who care. Whooee.!

I feel good about that.

We have so many idiots in this country that ....... no, I'll back up on that. We probably have the same percentage of idiots in this country as in any country in the world. Because we only have a 5 million population we obviously have fewer idiots than say, America has but ....... anyway, you know what I mean.

Our country is in lockdown. We have, somehow, allowed a contaminated person to come in from Australia with the dangerous Delta variant of Covid-19 which, in a week is threatening to rip through the country. At best we could, in another week be reporting contacts, infections and deaths in the numbers that New South Wales is reporting. At worst we could end up like USA, UK or India. 

What the fuck does someone who puts up stupid signs like that think they are doing?

Helping?

Advising?

Drawing our attention to things we should know about?

If they are so clever and have the health and welfare of the country at heart shouldn't they put them selves up for election to local council or national government? Maybe join local citizens bodies, charities and people who are doing voluntary good works?

No.

Idiots like this wave banners, troll on social network sites and put up banners on fences. I'll have a look again in a few days if I happen to go into town again.

SET THEIR ARSES ON FIRE!

 In 1995 I was in South Africa for a couple of  weeks on business.This, not quite coincidentally was at the time of the Rugby World Cup and I was fortunate enough to see New Zealand obliterate England with Jonah Lomu for almost the first time showing the world how powerful he was. It was a great trip from both the rugby side and also from the work side - visiting vineyards and wineries in Stellenbosch.

What wasn't great though was seeing at first hand the poverty in the country (Soweto and other townships) and hearing crime stories from both residents and visitors. I haven't felt inclined to return to South Africa and it has actually got a lot worse.

I recall that in Durban our hosts took us to a restaurant for lunch. We parked in a huge outside carpark like any that can be found around supermarkets and shopping malls. I was struck by the existence of several guard towers strategically placed at each corner of the carpark and one in the centre.

These were reminiscent of ones seen in films and on TV located in prisoner of war camps.

In each of them were one or two guards in uniform (some black, some white) who each held shotguns.

"Our car will be safe here." said our host when he saw me looking at the towers.

This was one of the many culture shocks I had there.

********************** 

Today I read this disturbing bit of news in the NZ Herald:

"Covid 19 coronavirus Delta outbreak:

Thieves target nurse's cars as Auckland Hospital staff work 12-hour shifts to help the sick.

Thieves have been targeting the cars of frontline healthcare workers - stealing them or smashing their way in and taking whatever they can get their hands on while the owners work gruelling shifts saving Kiwi lives.

The Herald is aware of spate of break-ins of cars belonging to staff parked in a Wilson Parking building in areas designated for those who work at Auckland Hospital."

Will we have to install guard towers and arm guards with shotguns?

I hope not but this activity is so low and mean that any scrotes doing it deserve to get a load of buckshot up their backsides.

ZOO QUEST TO NUOVA LAZIO

"Our planet may be home to 30 million different kinds of animals and plants. Each individual is locked into its own lifelong fight for survival. Everywhere you look, on land or in the ocean, there are extraordinary examples of the lengths living things go to to stay alive.

A hundred years ago, there were one and a half billion people on Earth. Now, over six billion crowd our fragile planet. But even so, there are still places barely touched by humanity. Let's go and have a look at one of these.

The lockdowns caused by Covid-19 outbreaks are forcing people to rediscover their basic defense systems and to learn that they don't need to socialise with others.

A good case in point is Richard, who claims to be the inventor of 'Bass Bagging'. He is the author of a rather obscure blog and, for many years, has lived in the wild at the extreme edge of humanity. It may well be that this experience and, indeed, the isolated location may work to his advantage. The things that he has done that isolated him from others - throwing old ladies newspapers over the fence, interfering with neighbours' rubbish, making annoying sounds etc. might now keep him safe.

Three and a half million years separate the individual who left footprints in the sands of Africa from the one who left them on the moon, but today, we need to be aware that leaving our footprints behind on lawns, in flower gardens and on front steps of houses is not the done thing.  Instead of controlling the environment for the benefit of the population, perhaps it's time we control the population to allow the survival of the environment. Keeping people like this 'bass bagger' inside and away from others could be the way of the future.

We may never know and certainly won't know if promulgation of information is dependant on people reading Richard's Bass Bag."

THEY'RE HERE!

 

I see that the other bloggers have been banging on about the lockdown. I guess they've run out of ideas.

I wasn't going to but ..... you know.

We're in a 3 to 7 day lockdown that could end up by being extended by a month or more all because some needy people wanted to travel to Australia and back. I've been getting annoyed at people in my community who've travelled to Australia and the Cook Islands - just because they can. To some of them, in the tennis club and others, I've asked them why and did they know how irresponsible they are being. Generally I just get a blank expression back or the comment "but it's allowed".

We've had ridiculous flyers and newspapers put in or mailbox by ill-informed drongos who don't believe that Covid-19 is a real thing or that the vaccine is safe and beneficial and who spill their filth on to others particularly those souls who don't have sufficient reasoning power to make informed decisions.

We've also had a lot of people coming up here to stay in their holiday houses or to stay in Air B&B places. Why? Because they can, or, as it isn't strictly legal, they could get away with it.

We've got along safely for 18 months so far but this latest 'Delta' variant of the virus that spreads so quickly is a worry. We can expect to be like Victoria or NSW in a week. What's so hard for people to understand about this?

Oh, I know, they listen to or read fringe and dodgy communications on Facebook or other social media or worse, from right wing FOX-type news channels.

IT'S JUST NOT CRICKET! *

 "Do you hear that?" she asked.

"What?" I answered.

"Crickets." she said.

Cricket? What, the sound of the thwack of willow on leather? 

But that was another time.

I mentioned this to her.

"No you silly bugger. Crickets. As in the insects. I can hear them again."

"I can't hear any crickets" I said, not for the first time.

Indeed, ever since I've had tinnitus the only crickets I hear are in my head.

"There, now" she said as she muted the television.

"I can't hear anything other than.... " I said.

"Yes, yes, the crickets in your head." she interrupted.

I went into the kitchen to where she said she heard the crickets.

'There's nothing here." I said.

"Yes, well, there won't be now" she said "you turned the light on and frightened them away again."

Sometimes I think it's not just me who's going nuts around here.

* With thanks to a minor contributor for this post title.

A GAME OF CHESS*

 * With reference to one of my favourite poems - The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot.

II. A Game of Chess (some appropriate excerpts)

The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,

Glowed on the marble, where the glass

Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines

From which a golden Cupidon peeped out

(Another hid his eyes behind his wing)

           ..........

Footsteps shuffled on the stair.

...........

“My nerves are bad tonight. Yes, bad. Stay with me.

“Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.

“What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?

“I never know what you are thinking. Think.”

I think we are in rats’ alley

Where the dead men lost their bones.
            ........... 

“What is that noise?”

The wind under the door.

“What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?”

Nothing again nothing.

“Do

“You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember

“Nothing?”

***********************

OK, that was fun - at least I enjoyed it. We studied T.S. Eliot in the P classes at college. I thing bob and Richard (not in the P classes) studied William McGonagall and Spike Milligan respectively. 

Back to the shack and the bloggers lockdown

**********************

"Bloody Bob, bloody Richard" said The Curmudgeon while pouring himself a large glass of Esk Valley Reserve Chardonnay which he had kept hidden in one of the many holes in the skirting boards in the small bedroom- the one with the bunk beds. Why there were so many holes in the skirting boards, ceiling and walls in this shack? He shuddered to think.

bob and Richard had conspired to cheat him in the 'Latin challenge'* earlier. The Curmudgeon should have known this  at the time but, having been educated in the P classes at college, decency, morality and a sense of ethics led him to expect the best of people. Oh how often he was disappointed.

He downed the wine and poured another and headed back into the lounge. This was the 'fancy' room in the shack differentiated by the fact that there were no holes in the ceiling, walls and floor and in fact, was the only one not  constructed as a lean to. The other bloggers were sitting in silence. Richard was playing with himself and bob was staring out of the window. Perhaps Richard's 'playing with himself' needs explanation. He was in fact humming to himself and fingering .... oops, you'll get the wrong idea again  ..... playing out an imaginary tune with his left hand. The Curmudgeon recognised this as a Czardas tune for double bass. "Bloody double bass" he thought. Richard (and bob) had been forbidden to bring their musical instruments on this 'retreat'. The Curmudgeon in turn agreed to leave his golf clubs at home. 

"Hi guys" the Curmudgeon said in greeting deciding to try and put their cheating, lying, disgusting, miserable, unfair, underhand, Garden Road gang-type and non P class behaviour behind him. Richard spied the glass of chardonnay in his hand and stopped his musical manipulations, instead, lifting his hand to his mouth forgetting that he didn't have a glass in it. bob stopped looking out of the window, turned around and said "He is risen".

""Oh boy" thought The Curmudgeon but, as he'd decided to move on suggested another game of snooker. The three had been playing snooker, pool and the occasional game of billiards the previous evening until Richard had dropped out. "Bloody snooker pool and billiards" he'd been heard to say before going to look for another bottle of wine. "It'd better not be a red wine" thought The Curmudgeon "the fridge is busted".

bob asked "how much do I owe you from the previous games?"

The Curmudgeon didn't even have to stop and think, he had the tally in his head. "Two hundred and twenty four million dollars, 7,480 sets of rosary beads and twelve hundred holy medals. I'll let you go on the scapulas." He could see bob's eyes going up and down like the images on a slot machine and waited him out.

"Wow!" said bob. "I wonder how much merchandise I can sneak out in my bag from the church store without Father Warren T. O'fissa noticing."

The Curmudgeon waited, knowing what was to come. bob slyly looked over to Richard before saying "Um, lets's forget about snooker, um, I noticed a board game over there amongst the jig-saw puzzles Chest or something."

"Community Chest? That's part of the game Monopoly. I'm up for that." said The Curmudgeon intending to see bob squirm.

"No, no, um chest,  um, um, um chess!" bob said at which Richard stopped looking for his secret stash of Marlborough chardonnay and looked over.

"Oh, chess, OK" said The Curmudgeon. "I've heard about that and saw a pretty good musical about it in London in the 1980s". bob smirked. Richard had found a bottle of Grapefruit Creek chardonnay 2021 and was now looking for a glass.

"Let' just play one game of this, um. chess. How about we double or nothing on the snooker, pool and billiards losses?"

The Curmudgeon thought about this for a moment and then agreed. "Let's do it" he said.

The chess board was duly set up. bob officiated, arranging for The Curmudgeon to sit on one side and him on the other. Richard was given the title of adjudicator and charged with the responsibility of setting up the board and playing pieces, ensuring that neither player pocketed pieces, kept the bowl of Danny's pita crisps (potato chips for bob) filled, made sure that wine glasses were kept to a maximum level (Bishop's Pizzle ale for bob) and that bob didn't tip the board over. It was a big responsibility but The Curmudgeon knew that guys educated in the G classes could handle this manual stuff. He made a mental note to ensure that Richard himself was topped up with that Marlborough chardonnay so that he didn't drink any of the Esk Valley Reserve chardonnay.

bob said to The Curmudgeon "you can be black as that's probably the state of your soul"

"A bit harsh" thought The Curmudgeon.

The game got underway.

bob was playing white and moved pawn g2 to g4

The Curmudgeon, trying to disguise his raised eyebrow by waving his hand over his face said "Flies?"

Richard quickly checked his pants and said "No, no. I'm fine."

The Curmudgeon moved his black pawn e7 to e5 making sure to knock over his precious glass of Esk Valley Reserve chardonnay in the process. "Oops, sorry" he said. bob and Richard quickly checked that their own 'precious' drinks were intact, took big sips and settled back.

bob, dribbling some Bishop's Pizzle from the corner of his mouth reached over and moved his white f2 pawn up into f3.

"Here bob" said The Curmudgeon handing bob a paper towel to wipe his mouth and, with his other hand moving his black queen from d8 to h4.

"Thanks" said bob offering the paper towel back.

"No, keep it" said The Curmudgeon "and, by the way, CHECKMATE".

bob tried to tip the board over but Richard, while checking that his flies weren't open had propped his foot up on the table and somehow anchored the board.

"Bugger" said bob and stormed off to his fancy/schmancy bedroom upstairs.

"Hee hee" thought The Curmudgeon, "there is a god after all" but then looked over to Richard and the realisation dawned that he'd have to share another night in the small bedroom with him.  

"Bugger" said The Curmudgeon and headed off to bed, grabbing the bottle of Esk Valley Reserve chardonnay on his way.

* Nothing to do with South American dancing.

A LONG NIGHT

 "I don't believe in hell" I have often said. Boy was I wrong.

Richard (of RBB) arranged for the entire blogging community (himself, Robert and me) to spend lockdown together in order to discuss the blogs and to fine-tune our blogging skills.

"I've sorted out some luxury accommodation" he said. "It coincidentally has the address '1 Blog Street'. What can go wrong?"

And so it went.

The luxury accommodation turned out to be an old shack with only two bedrooms and one bathroom. 

It's years since I've lived in a place with one bathroom. Even the small one-bedroom apartment we owned in Auckland had two bathrooms! The house we had in Point Chevalier had three bathrooms. Our current house only has two bathrooms but with the added advantage of them both being large and one is right at the end of the house where guests can use it without causing annoyance.

You might have noticed that I mentioned that the shack only has two bedrooms. And yet, there are three of us. Robert snaffled the upstairs bedroom for himself - I hope that there are bats up there and not the insulation kind. The other bedroom, the smaller one,  has two bunks in it! I have to share with Richard. It's been years since I've had to share a bedroom with anyone other than The Old Girl and former girlfriends (not at the same time) TALKING HEADS - NEW FEELING

It is...is a million...years ago
I hear music...and it sounds like bells
I feel like my head is high
I wish...I could meet...every one
Meet them all over again
Bring them up to my room
Meet them all over again
Everyone's up in my room

There was a time though, back in about 1983 or 84 when I went skiing at Ruapehu. I used to drive down early in the morning (about 4AM), ski all day and drive back home to Auckland at night. One Saturday night I decided that I didn't want to drive back so looked for overnight accommodation. The only place with any was the Skotel next to The Chateau. They said OK, I could have a large room that had a double bed but it also had two bunks in it and, if any latecomers came needing accommodation they'd have to rent it out as well. I thought that would be OK and took it. Later that evening two women came in, about my age and they took the bunks. They were nurses from Tauranga. I know that this sound like one of those Penthouse Forum letters but it's true. We shared a bottle of wine and got on well.

Sharing a bedroom with Richard was not going to be as good as that. I just knew it.

The single bathroom was going to be an issue just on its own. I hate having to share a bathroom. It's not because I have special requirements or because I make excessive noises and smells - it's just - because. I'm sure you know what I mean. Robert had cleaned the bathroom, I'll give him that but he had left buckets, brushes, brooms, cloths and chemicals all over the place. It was hard to get into the room let alone do anything in there. Invariably, as soon as I unzipped for a pee there'd be a loud knocking on the door and Richard would be doing a Pink Floyd impression asking:

He thought it was funny. As soon as he'd bugger off  it'd be Robert hammering on the door screaming to be let in as he was 'busting' after drinking about seventeen beers. Jeez!

Dinner proved to be 'interesting'. None of us liked what the others suggested to eat so we ended up crowding into the small kitchen cooking three different meals.

Richard was on his vegetarian jag so declared he was going to make a vege version of beef Bourguignon.

"Good luck with that" I thought and then cringed at the idea of the shared bathroom.

He emptied a shopping bag onto the table and exhibited his ingredients: Potatoes, carrots, mushrooms, garlic - all good so far - then canned tomatoes (Italian brand which sent Robert into rapture making him mumble in Latin) and, oh no, canned kidney beans. There were a few dried herbs and bottles of sauces and seasoning as well.

"Where's the Bourguignon?" I asked.

"Cosi?" answered Richard.

"The Bourguignon" I said. You need red wine for beef Bourguignon."

" Yes, I know" he replied "but I only like my red wines chilled." He took out a bottle of Marlborough chardonnay.

"This is going to be a long night" I thought.

After Richard had put everything, including the chardonnay into a big pot and set it on the stove, Robert entered the fray.

He emptied the content of his shopping bag onto the table. It consisted of sausages and potatoes.

"Oh" I exclaimed. "No KFC tonight?"

Robert took this as a compliment and started to peel his spuds.

I emptied out my shopping bag showing the pizza ingredients I'd gathered - pizza base, olive oil, pesto sauce, Mozzarella cheese, canned tuna, anchovies, Feta cheese, Kalamata olives, capers, garlic and capsicum and proceeded to assemble the pizza. I could sense two pairs of eyes watching each move I made.

Eventually the meals were ready. Richard took to his steaming pot with a ladle and started to eat.

Robert had sufficiently burned his sausages and boiled his spuds enough and smothered them with tomato sauce - Tui brand.

My pizza was cooked so I sliced it and started eating it along with a bottle of Primitivo wine from Puglia. Richard eyed that but I told him that it wasn't chilled. Robert washed his meal down with eleven bottles of beer - 'The Bishop's Pizzle' or something that he'd bought on special at Pak n Save. "It's only three years old" he enthused "and the fools were selling it at half price!"

"Yes, it's going to be a long night" I thought.

EVERY PICTURE TELLS A STORY*

A picture paints a thousand words.*
Seeing is believing.*
A picture is worth many words.*
One look is worth a thousand words.*
It's easier to show than to describe.*
It is better to see than to hear.*
A picture tells a story better than words.*
Proof of the pudding is in the eating.*

* NO IT BLOODY DOESN'T. NO IT'S BLOODY NOT. NOT. GET OVER YOURSELF!


Why the rant?


Well, a couple of bloggers in the community are too bloody lazy to write proper posts and have resorted to just publishing pictures.


See:

HERE

HERE

and HERE

It's a poor show really and demonstrates the slip of standards. You could blame the Taliban or the Catholic Church from wanting to revert to the mores and traditions of the 4th century but I just think that they're lazy.

Robert, who has the attention span of a goldfish in a bowl, I can understand but Richard, who as an ex-schoolteacher should have comprehension and language skills that could be put to use. He's getting old(er) I suppose and no doubt Shelley has to buy those big wooden jigsaw puzzles for him to play with nowadays.

Thank a 4th century made-up god that The Curmudgeons Inc.ⓒ take blogging seriously so stay tuned for some riveting and rather wordy posts over this lock-down period.

• 
  

NO POST TODAY *

 * Well, the lie is in the fact that this is a post I guess but I hadn't intended to do one.

I played tennis this morning against The Old Girl's instructions before she left for Auckland on Sunday but, as I played golf yesterday, also against her instructions I guess that one more transgression won't make any difference.

She forbade golf, tennis and outdoor activity because I've been hobbling about with a very sore knee for the last few days. I strapped up the knee with a very severe brace for the golf and tennis and that worked OK but .... now I've hurt my wrist (at tennis Richard, in case you're wondering). It's very sore in fact, it's very hurtee:

Anyway, since TV One and Jacinda's announcement on Coronavirus have gone kaput - stopped - ceased to be- gone! Has New Zealand ceased to exist? I'll not do a post. (I've been having internet problems and TVOne has disappeared).

I was going to paraphrase this excellent song's lyrics written by Graham Gouldman but they are so good I don't want to be disrespectful.

Listen to this and enjoy.

NO MILK TODAY - HERMAN'S HERMITS

NO RELIGION, NO RELIGION, NO RELIGION HERE TODAY

NO RELIGION - VAN MORRISON 

Well I'm gobsmacked.

Robert the Inveterate Spinner, in his last three posts on his blog hasn't had a religious theme going or even mentioned religion other than posting an image of a rather Arian, gay looking and masochistic Jesus Christ.

What's going on (imagine a classy link to that great Marvin Gaye song here)?

Has Robert seen the error of his ways?

Has the prospect of The Taliban taking civilisation backwards by 17 centuries scared him?

Has he been reading Kurt Vonnegut recently?

We'll never know and, if he tries to explain it in an incomprehensible post we won't be any the wiser.

Am I being mean? Yes, I think so but the events of the last few days in a far-flung area of the world brings it home to me that people who embrace a religion of any sort and politicise it and use it to settle old (very old) scores and act like barbarians clinging to ancient, silly and disproven beliefs are not only shits but they are dangerous and need to be put in their place.

There's no way that I can help but I'm bloody glad that we have a good prime minister (the best in my lifetime) who is doing her bit.

COME ON THE 4TH!

The 4th century, in the West was shaped by Constantine The Great who became the first Roman emperor to adopt (and adapt) Christianity. Gaining sole reign of the empire, he is also noted for re-establishing a single imperial capital, choosing the site of ancient Byzantium in 330 (over the current capitals, which had effectively been changed by Diocletian's reforms to Milan in the West, and Nicomedeia in the East) to build the city soon called Nova Roma (New Rome); it was later renamed Constantinople in his honor.

 

- Thanks Wikipedia

Under Taliban-rule, Afghanistan will ’revert back to the 4th century’ & women will be ‘subhuman’

As the Taliban closes in on Afghanistan, they will likely “revert back to fourth century standards” says Janine di Giovanni, Senior Fellow at the Yale Jackson Institute for Global Affairs and a columnist for Foreign Policy and The Nation Newspaper in Abu Dhabi. After more than three decades of experience as a war reporter, Giovanni says the Taliban will have a, “brutal reign, human rights will be discarded, and a humanitarian catastrophe, the likes of which we haven't seen in a while, will ensue.”

MSNBC AFGHANISTAN BACK TO THE 4TH CENTURY

That's worth a look if you have time although Robert will find it too long to concentrate on.

He should though because there is a core premise in this that ties in with most of what he says in his blog posts: ."Afghanistan will ’revert back to the 4th century’ & women will be ‘subhuman’ "

The 4th century has resonance with Robert as it was then that the bible was written and the catholic catechism nonsense was created. The Taliban's primitive ideas were developed then as well.

Women will be put back in their place which will please Robert and most catholics. The Taliban will make sure that women don't have positions of influence and power in both the religious sector and the secular area. They will learn that it is men who control their bodies and their fates.

REAL NEWS? I THINK NOT.

Yes, there are a lot of nutters out there who share conspiracy theories like god created the world, the bible was written thousands of years ago, Jesus was the son of god, and ....... oh, sorry - that's Catholicism but then ..... no, I'll save that for a Religious Curmudgeon post.

We've had a spate of anti-vaccine stickering with some idiot sneaking around late at night and putting little stickers in the public toilets and on playground equipment. The message is that Covid-19 is a hoax and that the vaccine will kill you. Oh, it also hints that it's a government plan to take away an individual's freedom.

If it wasn't so dangerous this would be funny but the people behind this nonsense are targeting those who might be a bit dim or who don't properly read and listen to responsible media, instead, getting information from Facebook, social media and propaganda posters.

Today I found a 47 page booklet in my mailbox which must have been dropped in yesterday or overnight. I wish that I'd seen who did this as they would have got a nice big clod of garden earth on their bonce.

This disgusting publication is USA generated but edited by some New Zealand idiots in Point Chevalier Auckland. As you can see by the contents page all of the articles are created to scare people from being vaccinated against Covid-19. Examples are:

• Fauci knew - the vaccine is a bioweapon.
• Vaccine anomalies - many vaccinated people are becoming MAGNETISED.
• Dr Peter McCullough- Covid vaccines have already killed 50,000 Americans.
• etc.

I find this kind of stuff reprehensible, especially when wrapped up in a reasonably sophisticated publication that, to those who aren't as sceptical as I am might seem to be real discussions and advice from medical professionals.

This thing is going straight into the fireplace.

The publication has the NZ website listed - www.therealnews.nz and I had a look. Earlier publications of this trash have been on line but issue#3 has been printed. The home page of the site had this as a statement:

The Real News has happened thanks to the hard work and generosity of many people who have donated money and volunteered their time to help in many ways.

The printing and distribution of Issue 1, 2 and 3 of The Real News has been funded by donations and we would like to express our appreciation to the members of the executive of Advance New Zealand who sent out emails to the party’s email list to raise funds for the printing and distribution of this issue. Advance New Zealand invited their members to support the launch of this new publication via the donation portal on Advance New Zealand’s website and also invited members and supporters to get in touch if they were interested in helping with mailbox drops in their area.

For the record, The Real News is published by an independent publishing company and the editors are not members of Advance New Zealand (nor are we members of any other political party).

We welcome collaboration with other groups who share our goals of independent inquiry, freedom of thought and conscience and freedom of choice in relation to medical tests and treatments.

This sounds like a lot of claptrap from Advance New Zealand trying to distance themselves in case of backlash but fully supporting the garbage.

This from Wikipedia about Advance New Zealand:

The Advance New Zealand Party is a political party in New Zealand founded in 2020 by Jamie-Lee Ross. The idea was first unveiled in a newsletter from Ross released in April 2020. He has claimed that the party is a centrist and anti-corruption movement designed to appeal to voters "in the middle"; however, their main policies represent the political fringe rather than centre.

Ross had been a member of the centre-right New Zealand National Party until a public spat with leader  Simon Bridges during which he accused Bridges of corruption. Ross has since been accused of sexual harassment and bullying, and has been investigated for corruption himself.

In July 2020, Advance entered into an agreement with Billy Te Kahika's New Zealand Public Party, a  conspiracy theory party that spread misinformation during the COVID-19 pandemic on its Facebook page.

Advance did not win any seats in the 2020 New Zealand general election. Te Kahika and the Public Party split from Advance shortly afterwards. On 16 July 2021, the party issued a statement announcing that it would deregister.

That Jamie-Lee Ross is a real shit and unfortunately he hasn't gone away and has found a way of getting in to the minds of a lot of stupid people.

***UPDATE***

Well, you got your wish.