To Rise From The Dead Every 10 Years ...

In the very last paragraph of his memoirs published in 1982, a year before his death, The renowned film director, Luis Bunuel - old, deaf, and atheist, made a confession. Despite the abhorrence he felt towards information, he expresses his wish to be able to rise from the dead every 10 years, walk up to a news-stand, buy several newspapers and then return to the cemetery, to read of the disasters afflicting the world, before going back to sleep in the soothing silence of his grave. That's all he demanded from an unexciting afterlife. 

Thirty years have slipped by since the film director's death. Were he to return now for a first visit, He would no doubt be astonished to see how isolated we have become thanks to miracles in communication, and information, such as cell phones and Internet. It's as if we all shared his deafness. He would probably reject the free press thrust in the face on his way to the nearest kiosk, though it's also likely he would balk at handing over one € for a newspaper. 

Back in his grave, a perusal of front pages headlines would suffice, to show that human foibles haven't altered or diminished in the least. Catastrophes still happen from time to time; poverty and hunger are on the rise. Saragossa is currently celebrating an Expo. Communism has been replaced by rampant capitalism. the white House is occupied by black tenants!

Cultural ignorance is well on the way to becoming universal. Fanaticism in polished jackboots, wars rage wherever they can. Even though people die at alarming rate, the human race is growing older and older. Women stupidly emulate men. It has become fashionable to abhor pleasure - no dry Martinis, no cigars, no dripping suckling pigs, no ribald conversation.

To tell the truth, it was hardly worth his while coming up for air. Perhaps the exterminating angel will prevent him from making future trips to the news-stand.

Didn't somebody say: 'All Cretans are liars' ?

Tags:LuisBunuel,Memoirs,Grave

Valentino - The Last Emperor Of Fashion

No doubt about it, one thing is style, and another is fame. This man has both, Valentino. Eternally suntanned and with more than 40 years of fame in the fashion world, always immaculate with perfectly groomed hair, jacket and tie, he is definitely a man of great style. Small in stature, he more than makes up for it with his huge and charming personality. He had been crowned as the last emperor of fashion.

A documentary was made of this charismatic Italian designer on his life and his long years in the very competitive, fickle world of high fashion, dressing the rich and the famous, and staying put high up on the ladder amongst the best known top designers. It was filmed by Matt Tymauer, reporter of the fashion magazine 'Vanity Fair', completely seduced by this very charming blue-eyed designer.

His creations had been worn by the most beautiful women in the world, the most famous and the most distinguished; or those simply rich enough to afford it and enjoy the privilege of wearing one of his dresses. Amongst the world known super stars and celebrities were Audrey Hepburn, Jackie Kennedy and Lady Di. Asked about all these ladies, he said now he only had eyes for Julia Roberts, who wore a dress specially designed for her, the very stylish black gown inserted with ribbon-strips, for the Oscar ceremony in 2001, when she won the best leading actress in her roll in 'Erin Brockovich'.

The documentary centres on the celebration of his 40 years in the fashion world. It took place in Rome, with the Coliseum as background. He announced his retirement and staged his last fashion presentation in January 2008. The other Hollywood stars he had dressed and appeared in the documentary included Gwyneth Paltrow and Joan Collins amongst many others. For I don't remember reason, I never saw it until recently.

He says he regrets to see the traditional small workshops disappearing, where seamstresses imposed the law long before so called stylists, and this law was: minute attention to every detail to assure impeccable finish, with all garments painstakingly hand-stitched with infinite patience. The reason I like Valentino's creation is, that all his dresses are ultra feminine, always the foremost factor I look for when it comes to choosing a dress for myself. Not that I can afford it any more!

When mentioned by someone about the colour red, which rarely seen in his collections, he responded with: "Red! I hate red!! I am sick of red!!!", he exclaimed. "My dresses made of this colour were the simplest and most stupid of my career!" he added. That statement  is the most strange of all, for me anyway. I simply love and adore his red dresses; I don't usually wear red, except when it was design by him. As soon as I put it on, I feel extra feminine, romantic and exceptionally sensual.

Tags:Valentino,documentary

Turning A New Leaf

Like certain gnarled, dried-out old trees long given up for dead, some writers and artists, not many to be sure, unexpectedly bloom again in their old age. On starting 'Paradise Lost', Milton feared he was too elderly to embark on the monumental task he'd set himself. Yeats wrote brilliant romantic verse in his youth, but his best poems were written by the snowy-haired senator he was destined to become. 'That is no country for old men' is the first line of his Sailing to Byzantium (1927), as Cormac McCarthy (and Javier Bardem) can testify.

But he goes on to say: " An aged man is but a paltry thing unless soul clap its hands and sing". And that's what it's all about, wanting to rejoice and be gathered into "the artifice of eternity". Even so, so much has changed in the past eighty years, maybe these lines are no longer valid ... or comprehensible.

Disguised with wigs, monocles and canes, in the fin de siecle Vienna of Stefan Sweig, young professionals bent over backwards to make themselves look as decrepit - and therefore venerable - as possible. Our own fin de siecle was the complete opposite. How long will it be before an ordinance bans old people from appearing in the public? But first it must be determined what makes us consider a person old. Is a fifty-year-old who has accepted early retirement old? Is an athletic, seventy-year-old golf player old? Is Berlusconi old? What a muddle.

There was an aged newspaperman covering an incident in the port of Barcelona the other day. He was badly dressed, chain smoked and smelt of stale booze. Nobody wanted to let him jot down a word in that ridiculous pad he held in his hand; they were queuing to be interviewed by a TV crew. A heavily tattooed girl hurled an insult at him containing the word 'blog'. But the last laugh is on our veteran reporter: the TV staff was just baloney, a hoax. There wasn't even any film in the camera, though the recording afforded excellent copy.

No country for old men, hah?

Tag:OldMen,GnarledTree,Baloney,Hoax

Mr. XY's Anchor Remedy

Unless you really know the place, and even if you do, setting off in search of a few meters of unspoiled seashore on the southern part Costa Brave, is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Over 50 years of wanton mass destruction (referred to here as construction) have left little more than Jerry built apartment blocks and vast car parks, adjoining otherwise beautiful beaches. Soviet ugliness at it's bleakest. And there seems to be no stopping it's vile, cancerous spread. What can one expect from a tourist industry based on cheap booze and fags? Thankfully my part is in the north. The abrupt rocky nature of parts of the southern coastline means certain coves are all but inaccessible, though not from the sea. Some of them are miniature fjords of crystal-clear water, which on reaching land, sensually lick the hem of sandy beaches no bigger than a bullfighter's cape. It takes Mr XY a good 40 minutes' walk to make his way down to such an idyllic spot, whose name and whereabouts he prefers to keep to himself. He goes in for his 1st dip at about 9.30 in the morning. The water is still chilly but incredibly invigorating, and nothing beats drying off in the sun before it gets too hot. For years his summer routine. On this particular day, he was lying on the sand, when a mechanical din suddenly drown out the sibilant silence of tiny waves over shingle. Manned by a young couple posing for Dolce & Gabbana advert, a motor boat was chugging it's way toward him. Without switching off the confounded engine, they shouted and pranced about for quite some time and then threw out the anchor. The stern came to rest not a meter from the shore. A nasty looking motor launch appeared. The mannequins aboard both vessels used their mobile phones to engage in an exchange of shrill greetings. They ignored Mr XY completely. So when XY went in again for a swim, he dived down and tied the 2 anchors together in a devilishly complicated knot. It's anybody's guess what happened later. Tags:beach,motorlaunch,anchor

Mouse Balls & The Inspector

I don't know how they wrote this with a straight face. This was a real memo sent out by IBM to its employees in all seriousness. It went to all field engineers about a computer peripheral problem. The author of this memo was quite genuine. The engineers rolled on the floor! Especially note the last couple of sentences.

'If a mouse fails to operate or should it perform erratically, it may need a ball replacement. Mouse balls are now available as FRU (Field Replacement Units). Because of the delicate nature of this procedure, a replacement of mouse balls should only be attempted by properly trained personnel.

Before proceeding, determine the type of mouse balls by examining the underside of the mouse. Domestic balls will be larger and harder than foreign balls.

Ball removal procedures differ depending upon the manufacturer of the mouse. Foreign balls can be replaced using the pop off method. Domestic balls are replaced by using the twist off method.

Mouse balls are not usually static sensitive. However, excessive handling can result in sudden discharge.

Upon completion of ball replacement, the mouse may be used immediately. It is recommended that each person have a pair of spare balls for maintaining optimum customer satisfaction.

Any customer missing his balls should contact the local personnel in charge of removing and replacing these necessary items.

Please keep in mind that a customer without properly working balls is an unhappy customer.

Taqs:MouseBalls,Inspector,Customer

All About A Cheque Book

I went to my bank to get a new cheque book this morning. The new cashier who must have just taken up the post and didn't know me at all, gave me a weird look that says " Where have you been hiding all this time? Chequebook?". Apparently, while I was not looking, chequebooks are not issued any more, at least, as I was told then, only to companies, not to any individuals. It may seem behind the times, but occasionally I do need to use a couple of cheques for certain payments, for instance, the guy who came to my house recently to put up a new heater for me, the charge of his time and labour came up to more cash than I had at the time, and he had no machine on him to accept a credit card payment. I never did find out exactly why the bank won't give me a chequebook, but a story came to mind of somebody else's account on the same subject. For years and years, whenever Carlos (now Carles or Charlie) needed a new chequebook, he would simply cross the street, open the doors of his bank, walk up to the cashier and tell him so. The cashier, known then as Manolo, later Manuel, would take out a machine the size of a toaster with a row of keys along one side, and placed it on the counter. By rotating a series of cogs with his thumb, Manolo would soon have Charlie's account number lined up. He would then place a virgin chequebook in a groove at the top of the monotype. After that he would press the keys, pull down a lever and "Voila". Manolo would hand Charlie his new chequebook. The whole operation took 2 minutes. All good things come to an end, as they say. One day, it must have been in the 80's, when Charlie crossed his street to the bank and asked Manolo for a new chequebook, he was told to leave the old one and come back in 2 days. Two days? But he needed it immediately! Manolo, an ecstatic converted to the religion of modern technology, explained that that dirty old contraption he used to keep under the counter had been replaced by a gleaming computer whose brain - now get this - was in Santander!!! Nothing short of a miracle. The above incident took place on a Thursday, the day he applied for it, nor the weekend counted, so it won't be at his disposal till the following Tuesday! As far as Charlie is concerned, the world has never been the same since. He was often left high and dry because there was a black-out or the computer went on the blink. A few years later, an enthusiastic Manuel (Manolo too belonged to the past) told him all about automatic cash dispensers and gave him his code and showed him how they worked. Not long after, Manuel was forced to accept retirement. Since then, he spends his days feeding fruit-machines with his meagre pension.    Tag:chequebook,contraption

Child Innocence

This is a rather amusing story about the bond formed between a little girl and a group of building workers. 

A young family moved into a house next door to an empty plot. One day, a gang of building workers turned up to start building on the plot.

The young couple's 5-year-old daughter naturally took an interest in all the activity going on next door and started talking with the workers.

She hung around and eventually the builders, all with hearts of gold, more or less adopted the little girl as a sort of project mascot. They chatted with her, let her sit with them while they had tea and lunch breaks, and gave her little jobs to do here and there to make her feel important.

They even gave the child her very own hard helmet and gloves, which thrilled her immensely.

At the end of the first week, the smiling builders presented her with a pay envelope containing two pounds in 10p coins. The little girl took her 'pay' home to her mother who suggested that they take the money to the bank the next day to open a savings account.

At the bank, the female cashier was tickled pink listening to the little girl telling her about her 'work' on the building site and the fact she had a 'pay packet'.

'You must have worked very hard to earn all this', said the cashier.

The little girl proudly replied, 'Yes, I worked every day with Steve and Wayne and Mike. We're building a big house.'

'My goodness gracious,' said the cashier, 'And will you be working on the house again next week?'

The child thought for a moment. Then she said seriously:

'I think so. Provided those wankers at Jewsons deliver the fucking bricks.'

Tags:child,builders

Name The Prince

Jacqueline Pascarl, at 45, is still very much a stunning beauty. In fact she must be the most beautiful lady I had seen for a long time, at whatever age. She was born in Melbourne and living there in Australia. She makes documentaries for television, but before this career she had been princess, or whatever one calls the wife of a Malaysian prince. She was being interviewed about her life as in a very foreign land at the tender age of 17, being married to a real prince.
 
She was asked about her life as a royal in Malaysia, her subsequent escape from that life that was to her more like a slave, being 'locked' for years, beaten up regularly by her own husband, leading to her running away with her 2 children and hiding out for 7 years, until her husband kidnapped them and kept them away from her for many years, allowing no mail or even a phone call from her. Until the youngster came of age (now 22 and 25), and had the liberty to travel on their own, before they were united with the long lost mother again. They come and go now, seeing her whenever they can.

What intrigued me of the interview was when she disclosed her husband's name. It has to be the longest name I have ever come across: Yang Amar Mulia Raja Ahmad Bahrin Shan ibni Yang Amat Mulia Tengku Sriva Raja, Raja Ahmad Shak.

Exhausting just to say it!! Translated it means something like: Your Highness Royal Prince Ahmad Bahrin, Sir, Son of ...... such and such and more and more titles and honours. On his passport, there are hardly enough space for all the names.

Another interesting aspect is that she said her husband the prince received his university education in western country, speaks English perfectly when outside of Malaysia, and carries himself very much like a well educated gentleman. But as soon as he returned to his own country his whole personality changed, and became very serious and rigid. She was convinced for years that there were 2 of them in the same body. Or, double personality.

I can understand that to a certain degree, that in Malaysia he must behave as a royal prince, because it's expected of him, maintaining his dignity and position. Even so, it's not explainable the way he mistreated his wife, in their private life. I am sure beating up the wife is hardly the correct protocol even for the royalty.

Tags:Malaysia,prince

One Liners From Edinburgh Festival

• I realised I was dyslexic when I went to a toga party dressed as a goat
  - Marcus Brigstocke at the Assembly Rooms
• Cats have nine lives. Which makes them ideal for experimentation
  - Jimmy Carr
• The right to bear arms is slightly less ludicrous than the right to arm bears
  - Chris Addison at the Pleasance
• My dad is Irish and my mum is Iranian, which meant that we spent most of our family holidays in Customs
  - Patrick Monahan at the Gilded Balloon
• The dodo died. Then Dodi died, Di died and Dando died .... Dido must be sh*tting herself
  - Colin & Fergus at the Pleasance
• My parents are from Glasgow which means they're incredibly hard, but I was never smacked as a child... well maybe one or two grams to get me to sleep at night
  - Susan Murray at the Underbelly
• Is it fair to say that there'd be less litter in Britain if blind people were given pointed sticks?
  - Adam Bloom at the Pleasance
• My mum and dad are Scottish but they moved down to Wolverhampton when I was two, cause they wanted me to sound like a tw*t
  - Susan Murray at the Underbelly
• You have to remember all the trivia that your girlfriend tells you, because eventually you get tested. She'll go: 'What's my favourite flower?' And you murmur to yourself: 'Sh1t, I wasn't listening ... was it self-raising?'
  - Addy Van-Der-Borgh at the Assembly Rooms
• I saw that show, 50 Things To Do Before You Die. I would have thought the obvious one was 'Shout For Help'
  - Mark Watson, Rhod Gilbert at the Tron
• Got a phone call today to do a gig at a fire station. Went along. Turned out it was a bloody hoax
  - Adrian Poynton at the Pleasance
• Employee of the month is a good example of how somebody can be both a winner and a loser at the same time
  -Demetri Martin at the Assembly Rooms
• A talking dog goes into a hardware store and says: 'I'd like a job please'. The hardware store owner says: 'We don't hire dogs, why don't you go join the circus?' The dog replies: 'What would the circus want with a plumber'
  - Steven Alan Green at C34
• It's easy to distract fat people. It's a piece of cake
  - Chris Addison at the Pleasance
• If you're being chased by a police dog, try not to go through a tunnel, then on to a little seesaw, then jump through a hoop of fire. They're trained for that
  - Milton Jones at the Underbelly

Tags:EdinburghFestival

Opium Eater

"Under connecting feelings of tropical heat and vertical sunlight, I brought together all creatures; birds, beasts, reptiles, all trees and plants, usages and appearances, that are found with all tropical regions, and assembled them together in China or Hindostan. I was an idiot; I was a priest, I was worshipped, I was sacrificed ...". Surely this timeless prose flowed from Jorge Luis Borges's hypnotic pen?

Not so. It's the strange fruit of Thomas de Quincey's (1785-1859) opium induced blather, of which, a century later, Borges was to squeeze abundant tangy juice. De Quincey is best now remembered, if at all, for his " Confessions of an English Opium Eater", a book well worth reading.

His addiction started in 1804, when a friend suggested he took opium to alleviate a particularly painful toothache. For a few coppers, druggists in those days sold Laudanum (a solution of crude opium in alcohol) without demanding a prescription. It was supposed to cure anything from diabetes, consumption, syphilis, delirium and an endless range of other aches and ailments. Gonfrey's Cordial, which also contained opium, was renown for it's power to quieten crying babies, though a slug of Gin was believed to be a sound alternative. De Quincey referred to the goodies sold over the counter at the druggist's as "portable ecstasies". The appalling addiction were the only downfall.

Father of eight, De Quincey stumbled through life paying off creditors with sporadic handouts from an uncle, who had made his fortune foisting Indian opium on the Chinese. Fuelled by guilt and self-hate, the writer's Laudanum added mind began to swarm with frightful images of innumerable Chinese ransacking the world civilization. He came to regard all Asians as incurably savage in the moral sense.

When it all boils down, was the Opium War (1839 - 42) any different from the later war in Irag? Portable ecstasies imperial wars.

I stood a corner,

My feet were dripping wet;

I asked every man I met ....

Can't you give me a dollar?

Give me a lousy dime,

Just to feed that hungry man of mine.

 

Tags:Opium,LivingEcstasy

The Gay Flight Attendant

My flight was being served by an obviously gay flight attendant, who seemed to put everyone in a good mood as he served food and drinks.

As the plane prepared to descend, he came swishing down the aisle and told us that 'Captain Marvey has asked me to announce that he'll be landing the big scary plane shortly, so lovely people, if you could just put your trays up that would be super.' 

On his trip back up the aisle, he noticed this well-dressed and rather Arabic looking woman hadn't moved a muscle. 'Perhaps you didn't hear me over those big brute engines Dearie, but I asked you to raise your trazy-poo so the main man can pitty-pat us on the ground.'

She calmly turned her head and said, 'In my country, I am called a Princess and I take orders from no one.'
 
To which (I swear) the flight attendant replied, without missing a beat,

'Well, sweet-cheeks, in my country I'm called a Queen, so I outrank you. Tray-up!!.'

Tags:GayAttendant,Queen,Princess

The Chauffeur

One day the Pope is coming to Amsterdam in his limo and he says to the driver: "Why don't you let me drive for a while?" The driver thinks to himself, "Well I can't say no to this guy, he is the Pope."

So the driver pulls over and they change places.

The Pope was having fun, hauling butt down the freeway, dogging cars. After a while, the driver taps on the window and tells the Pope, "Slow down a bit please, you might get pulled over."

The Pope says: " Ahh, don't worry about it. I am the Pope." So he rolls up the window and continue to drive very fast.

After a few moments, he gets pulled over. The cop walks up to the car and the Pope rolls down the tinted window. The cop sees the Pope and says: "Oh, I am sorry. Can you hold on a minute please?" The Pope says: "Sure."

The cop walks back to his car, and radios back to the station. He says: "Guys, I just pulled over someone very important." They ask who, "The president?"

"No, more important."

"The president of another country?"

"No, more important."

"An Ambassador?"

"No, even more important."

"Well, who is it?"

"I don't know, but the Pope is his chauffeur."

 

Tags:Chauffeur,Pope,Cop

Barcelona Then & Now

The local newspaper just started publishing each day a few photos of Barcelona and other Spanish cities at the same spot 45 years ago, with a brief description of the differences. Most of them are visually evident. Other information comes from the achieves of that period and all are very interesting to me, not having known the country of the bygone days, and where I have in recent years made my home.

 

After the enormous success of the 1992 Olympics, the sudden wave of immigrants from abroad and the influx of tourists from all over the world have, in a relatively short time, caused enormous changes, especially in Barcelona, for better or for worse. Both physically and psychologically. Seeing what it was like 40 years ago and saying so in as many words, is tantamount to conjuring up an invented past.

 

Anyone arriving from Paris or London in those days must have found Barcelona incredibly behind time, compared with most other European countries in many aspects. The photos showed the era of miniskirts, flares and bushy sideburns. Unkempt hair and ill fitting clothes. People looked rather drab and grubby, and buildings dark and unwelcome.

 

Some photos show people of that period, in the streets, with so many cripples at large, the war might have ended only a few weeks earlier. There were close shots of some old timers, with teeth, if they did exist, rather big, nicotine stained and crooked. Women wore mainly black, almost as soon as they got married. Old ladies looked identical, black from head to toe, like wearing uniform.

 

Nevertheless, heady times, before cosmetic dentists, plastic surgeons, industrial designers, trend stylists and tormented politicians got their hands on the populace. Barcelona is probably now one of the most beautiful and advanced modern cities in the world. Optimism and polite anarchism reigned supreme. A barrage of scathing jokes, contagious good humour and not to mention plenty of plonk and carrajillos - coffee laced with brandy or whiskey - cemented comradeship and solidarity. And to think everything was dirt cheap! In those days!! Shared poverty is a mighty generator of generosity.

 

However, round the Rambla in the centre of Barcelona, a binge could start off innocently enough with a couple of beers and carry on non stop for 3 days. One of the best things of all was that people of all ages, creeds and backgrounds mixed happily. And books, real books, were available at all hours at kiosks and drugstores, cultural activities flourished beyond bureaucracy's murderous grip.

 

What went wrong? Well, you have pride, envy and greed for starters.

Tags:Barcelona, thenandnow

True Record Of Insurance Claims

** INSURANCE CLAIM FORMS TO MAKE YOU SMILE - U.K.**

• The accident was due to the other man narrowly missing me.
• I collided with a stationary trolley coming in the opposite direction.
• In order to avoid a collision, I ran into the other car.
• The other car collided with me without even warning me of his intention.
• There were plenty of onlookers but no witnesses.
• The water in my radiator accidentally froze at midnight.
• My car had to turn very sharply because of an invisible truck.
• I was just in the act of scraping my nearside on the curb when the accident happened.
• I collided with a stationary tree. There was no damage done to the tree as the gatepost will testify.
• The accident was entirely due to the road bending.
• I left my Austin 7 outside and when I came out later, to my amazement there was an Austin 12.

• The witness gave his occupation as that of a gentleman but it actually would be more correct to call him a garage proprietor.
• The other man changed his mind and I had to run into him. I told the idiot just what he was and went on.
• One wheel went into the ditch. My foot jumped from brake to accelerator, leaped across the road to the other side, and jumped into the trunk of a tree.
• I remember nothing after passing the Crown Hotel until I came to and saw Police Officer Brown.
• A bull was standing nearby and a fly must have tickled him because he gored my car.
• A cow wandered into my car. I was later informed that the unfortunate cow was half witted.
• She suddenly saw me, lost her head, and we met.
• If the other driver had stopped a few yards behind himself it certainly would not have happened.
• I was taking a friend home and following the lampposts, which were in a straight line. Unfortunately there was a bend in the road bringing the right hand lamppost in line with the left so of course I landed in a ditch.
• I bumped into a lamppost that was obscured by human beings.
• I heard a horn blow and was struck violently in the back. Evidently a lady was trying to pass me.
• I misjudged a lady crossing the street.
• Coming home I drove into the wrong house and collided with a tree I haven't got.
• Three women were talking to one another, and when one stepped back and another stepped forward, I had to have an accident.
• I thought my window was down, but I found out it was up when I put my head through it.
• I collided with a stationary truck coming the other way.
• A truck backed through my windshield into my wife's face.
• A pedestrian hit me and went under my car.
• The guy was all over the road. I have to swerve a number of times before I hit him.
• I pulled away from the side of the road, glanced at my mother-in-law and headed over the embankment.
• In an attempt to kill a fly, I drove into a telephone pole.
• I had been shopping for plants all day and was on my way home. As I reached an intersection a hedge sprang up, obscuring my vision, and I did not see the other car.
• I had been driving for 40 years when I fell asleep at the wheel and had an accident.
• I was on my way to the doctor with rear end trouble when my universal joint gave way causing me to have an accident.
• As I approached the intersection a sign suddenly appeared in a place where no stop sign had ever appeared before. I was unable to stop in time to avoid the accident.
• To avoid hitting the bumper of the car in front I struck the pedestrian.
• My car was legally parked as it backed into the other vehicle.
• An invisible car came out of nowhere, struck my car, and vanished.
• I told the police that I was not injured, but on removing my hat found that I had a fractured skull.
• I was sure the old fellow would never make it to the other side of the road when I struck him.
• The pedestrian had no idea which direction to run so I ran over him.
• I saw a slow-moving, sad faced old gentleman as he bounced off the roof of my car.
• The indirect cause of the accident was a little guy in a small car with a big mouth.
• I was thrown from my car as it left the road. I was later found in a ditch by some stray cows.
• The telephone pole was approaching. I was attempting to swerve out of the way when I struck the front end.
• I consider that neither vehicle was to blame, but if either were to blame, it was the other one.
• I knocked over a man. He admitted it was his fault as he had been run over before.
• The accident was due to the other man narrowly missing me.
• The car occupants were stalking deer on the hillside.
• A dog on the road applied brakes, causing a skid.

• Tags:InsuranceClaims

A Filmsy Exercise - Bikini, Throng

I had just put myself at the usual table by the window at my cafe this morning, and saw a young couple coming from the beach across the street and heading directly towards the cafe. She was in her tiniest bikini, and he in more of a jockstrap than any known type of swim-wear. They were both barefooted and dripping wet, obviously having just come out of the water, but are now entering the premises.

They took a table and started looking at the breakfast menu. All customers' eyes were on this couple as soon as they walked in and, I noted with amusement that most eyes were fixed on him rather than as usual on a young and not too bad looking woman. Bikinis are common here with the beach just yards opposite the road, but that 'thong-like' thingy on him was real eye catching to say the least, with his endowment flimsily covered by a few inches of wet cloth.

Almost immediately, the owner of the cafe went up to them and from what I could guess he was not there to take the order but to ask them to leave. I couldn't hear every word they exchanged, but could make out from the couple's faces, and the way they talked waving their arms about, that they were refusing to go. Voices were raised after that and the conversation boiled down to, that the owner saying they were not welcomed with wet swim wear and no shoes, and the couple's argument that they did not see any warning signs put up to that effect, and they just wanted breakfast, without bothering anybody. This went on for another 5 minutes or so, and the owner threatened to call the police, adding:

"You could sit until the police come if you must, but you are definitely not getting any breakfast here." I like him better now, I decided. Well done, Gregory, the proprietor.

The couple sat on, no food or service offered, began to look a bit awkward or uncomfortable. The rest of the customers looked rather amused, likely thought it was the best entertainment they had for the day. The police came soon enough, less than 2 minutes I'd say, and whether they liked it or not, the young couple were 'persuaded' to leave, with the police. I don't think they would be taken to the police station for this, probably just to scare them a little by giving them another talk-to outside.

I believe in certain protocol of decency of the dress code, even though unwritten, that there is the right or wrong attire for certain places. Roses is a tourist spot, a beach town, and it is now the beginning of summer. But skimpy swim-wear, barefooted and dripping wet entering a cafe-restaurant is in my eyes lacking respect to the establishment as well as to the other customers. Nor would I consider it correct to enter any other kind of buildings or shops.

Strangely, people who displayed such bad manners are always foreigners and, I am willing to bet, they would not do so in their own country. Somehow, many of them reckon they are in a foreign place, not likely to bump into friends and people who know them, so they throw all manners to the wind, without the slightest forethought that, such bad behaviour would contribute to give their own country a bad reputation. Like many drunk and disorderly or even destructive football hooligans visiting a foreign country.

Repairing Broken Dreams

Can you imagine how you might feel when you know you are a person, because you look like one, you walk, speak, act, eat ,sleep, work, hope, love, dream ... like one, but in the eyes of the world and all governing laws, you are not even considered exiting human beings? And your fathers, grandfathers and the ones before them, neither? Going as far back as 40,000 years, the Australian aborigines are the most ancient civilization of the planet, still living. Some of them took part a few years ago in Sydney in the worldwide celebration of the Day of the Youth, with the visit from the Pope Benedicto XVl present. They were not even recognized as human beings until as late as 1967!! Only then the referendum decided to include the aborigines in the census for the very first time. With some adjustments, the census concluded that the indigenes population was of 461,160 people, which represents 2,4% of the world's population. After this first and rather belated grant of citizenship, an open apology was effected by the Australian authorities to their compatriots, who were inhabitants of the islands even long before the colonization. On that scandalous late date, merely on the 13th of February 2008, the Prime Minister of the labour party, Kevin Rudd, presented an apology to the indigenes in the Parliament in Canberra. HIs predecessor, John Howard of the conservative party, eluded 10 whole years to do so. The official apology asked for forgiveness of the compatriots, 'for the laws and policies of the successive parliaments and governments, which had inflicted deep pain, suffering and loss '. He didn't add the part that such oversight had lasted centuries, historically termed as ' the bobbed generation ', from 1910 to just after 1970. During that 'lost' period, more than 50.000 aborigines children were practically yanked from their mothers' arms, to be taken away from their legion, and to be educated out of their culture, brought up by whites families and institutes. Totally pulling them out of their roots, wiping out all traces of their backgrounds. May the next 40,000 years be the peaceful and prosperous ones for everyone of them. Tags:aborigines,indigenes,Australia

How Old Is GrandPa?

It's amazing the times and events we lived through, often without consciously noticing their coming or going ...

Stay with this -- the answer is at the end. It will blow you away.

One evening a grandson was talking to his grandfather about current events.
The grandson asked his grandfather what he thought about the shootings at schools, the computer age, and just things in general.

The Grandfather replied, 'Well, let me think a minute, I was born before:

' television
' penicillin
' polio shots
' frozen foods
Xerox
' contact lenses
' Frisbees and
' the pill
There were no:
' credit cards
' laser beams or
' ball-point pens

Man had not invented:
' pantyhose
' air conditioners
' dishwashers
' clothes dryers
and the clothes were hung out to dry in the fresh air and

Man hadn't yet walked on the moon
Your Grandmother and I got married first . . . And then lived together.
Every family had a father and a mother.

Until I was 25, I called every man older than me, 'Sir'.
And after I turned 25, I still called policemen and every man with a title, 'Sir.'
We were before gay-rights, computer- dating, dual careers, daycare centers, and group therapy.

Our lives were governed by the Ten Commandments, good judgment, and common sense.

We were taught to know the difference between right and wrong and to stand up and take responsibility for our actions.

Serving your country was a privilege; living in this country was a bigger privilege.

We thought fast food was what people ate during Lent.

Having a meaningful relationship meant getting along with your cousins.

Draft dodgers were people who closed their front doors when the evening breeze started.

Time-sharing meant time the family spent together in the evenings and weekends-not purchasing condominiums.

We never heard of FM radios, tape decks, CDs, electric typewriters, yogurt, or guys wearing earrings.

We listened to the Big Bands, Jack Benny, and the President's speeches on our radios.

And I don't ever remember any kid blowing his brains out listening to Tommy Dorsey.

If you saw anything with 'Made in Japan' on it, it was junk

The term 'making out' referred to how you did on your school exam.

Pizza Hut, McDonald's, and instant coffee were unheard of.

We had 5 &10-cent stores where you could actually buy things for 5 and 10 cents.

Ice-cream cones, phone calls, rides on a streetcar, and a Pepsi were all a nickel.

And if you didn't want to splurge, you could spend your nickel on enough stamps to mail 1 letter and 2 postcards.

You could buy a new Chevy Coupe for $600 . . . But who could afford one?
Too bad, because gas was 11 cents a gallon.

In my day: ' 'grass' was mowed,
' 'coke' was a cold drink,
' 'pot' was something your mother cooked in and
' 'rock music' was your grandmother's lullaby.
' 'Aids' were helpers in the Principal's office,
' ' chip' meant a piece of wood,
'hardware' was found in a hardware store and
' 'software' wasn't even a word.

And we were the last generation to actually believe that a lady needed a husband to have a baby. No wonder people call us 'old and confused' and say there is a generation gap... And how old do you think I am?

I bet you have this old man in mind ... you are in for a shock!

Pretty scary if you think about it and pretty sad at the same time.
This man would be only 59 years old