Here we go again. Another Saturday round up and we are now at Week 602.
A bit of wisdom I read this week. It states that we should never steal, never cheat or lie. Don’t be a despicable human being. This should be a given, but that’s not the reason! You see, our governments hate competition!!
Continue reading “Week 602 – A P.D. With Whiskers, It Wasn’t Even Porn And Could Be An Interesting Image Diane!”
Since this is a bit of a milestone, six hundred weeks is something to behold, I’m going to start off in a good mood, I can’t promise that I’ll stay that way as life trudges on and I’ve found that it goes out it’s way to annoy me. I can sit here, being happy and I can guarantee that a phone-call, a thought or an email will make me want to kill someone. Probably the fucker who phoned, or sent the email or I thought about.
So to begin with, I need something to make me smile.
This band always does!!
*I’d also like to ask two quick riddles
1. What do you call a spider with ten eyes?
2. What is so fragile that even stating it’s name breaks it?
Following on from my topic last time, I want to advise, again, something that we have mentioned before. Some topics will never make it, as, well, we just don’t like them. The one that I want to touch on is animal cruelty.
We hate that.
I wrote about Peter Mullen in my previous Saturday’s Post. He has done some brilliant work. (‘Trainspotting’, ‘Neds’, ‘My Name Is Joe’ etc.
I wanted to watch ‘Tyrannosaur’ which he also stared in but THANKFULLY I read about the first scene. Due to that, I’ve avoided it like the plague.
I also have only watched ‘The Wee Man’ just once because of the same sort of reason.
Gwen loves those John Wick films but when I heard his dog was killed – I ain’t watching them either.
This is a lesson to the fucking outraged – If you know you will be outraged, don’t read the fucking story!!
Since this is number six hundred, I reckon I need to do something enlightening and appropriate. I thought about a lot of the topics I’ve used in these and also the points I’ve made and those that have been made to us. I’ve come up with this. It’s a sort of list of things that I’ve used and the experience that we’ve all gained. I’ve done these since Week 64 and Leila has taken one every two weeks since around Week 360ish.
I would say that I have learnt a helluva a lot about the site, these postings, writing and myself in that time.
So in no particular order!
– A statistic first. We’ve had over 17 000 submissions.
– Since Week 64, I’ve been trying to work out how to easily find out how many writers we have.
– From those, only three people who’ve been published took umbrage with us.
– There are only three previous writers who we would now never consider.
– AI is something newish. There wasn’t many stories of this ilk at the beginning. There is now and they are mostly fucking boring.
– There are always exceptions.
– Sometimes there are never exceptions.
– We changed the guidelines once and had to change them back due to some woke fuckwit. I really do regret that…But for the good of the site, I was happy to accept my regret.
– All our decisions are for the good of the site.
– Telling us you have chronic dandruff and such like is more information than we need.
– If we piss you off, have some pride, stay pissed off!!
– If you become un-pissed off, I can’t promised that we’ll do the same.
– A decision is a decision, asking us to change our mind is futile.
– We can spot passive aggressiveness in an email a mile away. We will respond courteously but we really want to answer with ‘Fuck off and die’!
– We’ll always be professional.
– In our minds and wishes, we can be really childish.
– Comments instigate thought and inspiration.
– Those who don’t comment or read comments are missing out on thought and inspiration.
– I’ve used comments between myself, Leila and Diane as inspiration for these postings.
– We can’t thank those who comment enough!
– As already mentioned in this post, animal cruelty stories will never get through. I’m still
traumatised by the late, great Tom Sheehan’s brilliant but harrowing story ‘Titanic’. (I’m filling up as we speak)
– We all miss Tom Sheehan.
– We’re all in awe of the amount and quality of Tom’s work.
– The three topics that I use for a title in these postings, I try not to use the words from the body of the posting.
– I’ve always wondered if anyone noticed the point above?
– Sometimes the number of the posting has relevance.
– There are only two films with the number 600. They are ‘The 600’ (A Rwandan film) and ‘600 Miles’ staring Tim Roth.
– I know fuck all about Rwandan films.
– Anything with Tim Roth in is worth watching – I’ll have a look.
– Any song that has the number 600 in it, to me, looks like shit.
– I know very little about classical literature and very seldom do I use any content in these postings. Except to slag off ‘1984’ and Shakespeare.
– I wonder if my slagging off of any topic is insecurity?
– See above – Fuck that – They bore me!!!
– I sometimes scribble down bits and pieces that’ve made me think and I hope that I can use them in The Saturday Posting, but as a rule I very seldom know what I’m going to write about. – I’m sure you’ve noticed.
– Another old tip. Never in the name of fuck, class you or your story as hysterical.
– PC, Woke, Proclaimers and The Outraged are and always will be cunts.
– I swear a lot but I don’t give a fuck!
– Our (You) writers are as good, if not better than many a published writer!!
– I will always hate romance!
– Sometime happy coincidences happen. This part of the posting is exactly 600 words!
Okay onto this week’s stories.
We had two new writers, a third timer, a sixth timer and a twenty-fifth timer.
To our new folks, we welcome them, hope that they have fun on the site and continue to send us their work.
We began the week with our first new writer, Brian Stumbaugh. His story was entitled, ‘Judy
Triton’
‘There are some great lines throughout.’
‘The tone was excellent.’
‘This was very enjoyable.’
On Tuesday the story was, ‘The Beggar’s Stone’ The writer was Peter Biles who we have now published for a third time.
‘A weird little story.’
‘The ending nearly eluded me.’
‘A bit mystical.’
P.R. Woods was our next new writer. The story ‘Reconciled To Eternity’ was next up.
‘This says much about the world and its deadening hypocrisy.’
‘Some credit for the writer taking the high wire.’
‘Tawdry but in a very good way.’
On Thursday we had Michael Smith with his sixth story for us entitled, ‘Bradley Hand & Lucinda Grande.’
‘I was amused by the names.’
‘It was a look at two different points of view.’
‘The MC was a total arse.’
And we finished off with a wonderful friend of the site. Christopher Ananias is not only a brilliant writer, he comments and supports the site.
‘A Certain Type Of Shopper’ was his latest offering.
‘CJA has a brilliant, strange mind.’
‘I love the observations.’
‘The ending was hilarious.’
That’s us for another week.
Send in a Re-Run (A story you read a while back and enjoyed) Throw in an introduction and we will post what you send us.
Please keep commenting or begin to comment.
Say ‘Thanks’ to the folks who take the time to read and comment.
Before I forget*
1. A spiiiiiiiiiider.
2. Silence
I need to thank Mr Tam Cowan whose column in ‘The Sunday Post’ has given me a few of the really stupid jokes I’ve used.
Just before a last piece of music, I will leave you with something he was pondering…
‘I’ve read a lot about rivers and the term for effluent is always raw sewage…What kind of weirdo cooks it??’
I’ve been watching ‘Lazarus’ by Harlan Coben – Not my favourite of his but it was still enjoyable and there is a song throughout that reminded me of a cover that was miles better than the original. If ever a song suited a voice, this is that one!
Oh and we just had to say:
Thanks to all of you who have stuck with us over these six hundred postings, the writers, the readers and especially those who comment – We appreciate you all!!!
Hi All
Thank you, thank you for sticking around 600 weeks Good Gordon Highlanders. dd
-One-
Here’s to a Place That Has More Kids Than Teeth
I lived in a trailer park for a little over a year, 1978 to 1979 b.c.e. It was in South Park, a neighborhood a few miles south (duh) of Seattle. The Dumwamish River flowed about a hundred yards from my metal abode, and the South Park Draw Bridge was about a block away. The world’s largest and long lastingest mud puddle, which never evaporated once while I lived there, stood between the park and the cleverly named South Park Tavern (I was only nineteen and looked fifteen, so I usually got kicked out about half the times I went in–until a cop saw me and gave me a minor consumption ticket. Bastard). There was also a popular 24hr eatery (the equally cleverly named South Park Diner) where I took most of my meals (great pulled pork sandwich and home fries). Ah, it was a fine trailer park–I paid, get this, seventy-five smackers a month for a small one bedroom trailer. And I felt oddly honored when the show South Park came on the air some twenty years down the line. Those were some strange and yet terrible times, but I’m glad I had them.
One oddity was I never met the landlord. Every first of the month I slipped a money order through the slot of “their” door. You see, I was told it was a husband and wife run outfit. I inherited the trailer from my brother who had moved and they said sure if I wanted to renew his lease–I guess no one cared to meet me. When I left I gave a month’s notice with the last rent money order and returned the key the same way. It had Christmas lights duct taped to it, which, of course, I left up. I really doubt such a situation can happen anymore–I don’t think so anyway, gotta feeling the area got the hell gentrified out of it. Anyway this is a brief little mention to the South Park Trailer Park (which I hope, along with the everlasting mud puddle, still exists, but I have my doubts and I refuse to check on it). Anyway, I just found out that the American Trailer Parks have been around since the 1920’s; so let us call this year the 100th, since no one else is staking a claim.
-Two-
I’ll be as Holy as You Let Me (and a Word Was Born)
I’ve begun a long forestalled project this year. I am reading the King James Bible cover to cover. I read one chapter of it a day, everyday (I know it will take a very long time, but there is nothing that dies harder than an old lady–so, with a nod to Kate Bush, I’m running up Calvary Hill, no problem). Today (not this today, but on the today I write this) I read Genesis 32. Jacob had just rassled the Lord in 31 and today he made up with his brother Esau. It is incredible the amount of jerks you meet in Genesis. Guys who instruct their wives to pretend to be their sisters to protect themselves; and there were women who told their husbands to bang their female slaves then called the resulting children their own (no word on the slaves’ feelings) . And then there was Onan, he of the “Blue Ball Express–which always pulls out on time”–God was not pleased with Onan–and I find myself wondering just how did the Lord “slew” him? Still, I find myself no longer as unfairly aligned with the darkness in my soul against the scriptures. Good things often happened to deficient people (such as Jacob, later Israel), because they were able to grow and change. A lot of the time preachers do not express the flux nature of Genesis, which I find detrimental to the message.
Now, I’ve begun the project (which I will complete unless smited or smoted or even smittened) not as an aim for heaven, but as a way of understanding something I’ve always taken aim at with fangs bared and claws extended. That is unfair of me, so the project is underway. So far I am certain that the Bible is a series of allegories, with occasional real persons and places added. You have to allow for that because, for instance, it is impossible for two persons to create an entire species. Moreover, the lifespans are ridiculous. But there is value in this book, along with the great Sermon on the Mount and poetry such as the Lord’s Prayer. Anyway, no one in the world would love to know God more than I–but there is no way I would ever want to be Tammy Faye Baker. If faced with that choice, I will quote Twain “All right then, I’ll go to hell.”
But there is a genuine comparison between the human behaviours of ago to those of now (and all before, between, and what is likely to come). The people of Sodom were so horrible that a man, Lot, who offered up his virgin daughters to star in a gang bang so he could be a good host to his guests (preventing their star turn in the proposed gang bang) is the only righteous man in town. This was followed by the conversion to sodium by Mrs. Lot; still, I can identify with Lot’s wife, I would have looked back, especially when told not to. I think her name should be Sodo-Chloe–for sodium chloride. Then there was the incest in the cave, which was proably shaped like a trailer.
Ha! Get it! Trailer Park humour in the Old Testament! Okay, fine whatever. But due to that event the Bible has allowed me to invent a new word, which I humbly introduce to the English Language:
Precetious (n) Telling a “new Joke” that has already been told or is currently going round the joke cycle.
My mobile home shaped cave for Lot and his daughters must be precetious. It is too obvious with all the slamming of poor people with associations of incest and trailer parks. Plus it is “cool” to ridicule the Bible. I am stepping back for that; I’m for humour and holy books, but I am done with the scornful approach. For example, George Carlin (who was a genius, but when he got older, frankly, he began to slip and was not much more evolved comically than Dice Clay) blamed the Bible for over-population. “Go forth and be fruitful.” Well, other than not explaining China or India, it was precetious (I love getting my word underlined with the uptight red squiggle) for certain. George, I think, got pretty used to all the butt-kissing the younger generations of comics laid on him. Hey, the same went for the monumentally unfunny Bob Hope and Milton Berle. The only comic I have ever seen who seemed unimpressed by his ascension to the holy was Richard Pryor. Even when he was terribly sick I could see the “fuck off” in his eyes. Eddie Murphy did a wonderful imitation of Richard’s act–but Richard was most extremely first–and Pryor, unchained, is my candidate for the funniest person ever.
Hmm, I seem to have lost my way, even though introducing my Bible Study and new word was the object of this “lesson” number two.
So let us moveth forward.
-Three-
The 599th Week That Was
So many wonderful things have occurred in weeks 500-599 that one is tempted to put on Green Day’s Good Riddance and get weepy about it all. But let us not get overly stupid. A number is a number and there is nothing more special about 599 than there is in any other. More good things is always number the numero uno desirement. (Maybe another new word?)
Ever erudite Geraint Jonathan returned Sunday with Shakespeare the Tease. You need not be an expert on the Bard to enjoy Geraint work (but some knowledge is helpful). Like the subject Geraint is a master of wit and poetic prose. And there are no truer words today than those writ four-hundred years ago.
Taking the Plunge by M.A.B. Lee led off the work week and forever reshaped the concept of the plumber’s helper. And although one might feel that there was a lot of this tale at the surface–oh no, there was and is so much more to it. Absolutely funny as hell and a great read first thing in a day. So well thought out and presented.
Tuesday brought us The Potato Man by Leigh-Anne Burley. Life can build up on you as well as in you. And in just a few words Leigh-Anne showed us the implosion of a human being. A truly sad event, but maybe it can help someone who sees him or herself on the sofa, hating the same sort of life.
Shoshauna Shy (who has a real cool name, if you ask me) returned with Iowa on Wednesday. I am similar in age to the kids in this tale and trust me she got the way the American world was for little kids in the sixties. The old days were not always the good ones, no matter what people tell you. It is also a personal story, like Leigh-Anne’s, with heartbreak, but being young, there was hope as well.
Joe Ducato presented The Duster on Thursday. This one mixes the fantastic with the grim often idiotic overly orderly society in which laws are followed because, well, because. You find yourself rooting for “The Duster” even though his task is a tall one that gets ever higher by the moment.
Right now I must confess to writing The Hydra of Lambistan. It is 5:27 A.M. and it is easy to confess to my sins prior to sunrise. Anyway, for those of you who read it and commented kindly, I greatly appreciate you. And for those of you who chose the old If You Cannot Say Anything Nice, Then Say Nothing at All bit–in my mind The Thumper Commandment, well. I guess I owe you my thanks as well (but not to a sizeable portion).
Anyway, here’s a reminder to please do things you are not likely to do and further thanks for those of you who do such good deeds without being prodded by one of those giant wooden forks you used to see on dining room walls in the 1970s.
And farewell to the 500’s. It requires not a doctorate to figure out that it takes about two years to do a hundred, so I hope you remember to return next week when Hugh yanks the 600’s, doubtlessly screaming, spitting, shitting and kicking, into the world for, as the Beatles once put it, a damn good wacking (metaphorically of course, for LS deplores violence on numbers).
Extra Note
This paragraph is being added a few days after I had scheduled the article, please forgive me if it comes off a bit choppy. But I feel I should make special mention for Dolly Parton, who died yesterday. For me there are three famous people I have always believed I will be extra sad about when they go: Carol Burnett, Loretta Lynn and Dolly Parton. They all have/had a special quality of friendly respect that cannot be faked. Carol is still with us and I hope she makes a hundred, but, like with Loretta before, I must bid farewell to the unlikely yet wonderful lady from the south. Dolly and Loretta Lynn were quite special yet utterly different although they came from similar backgrounds. Below is a clip of my favorite Dolly song.
The next day…I want all the Cool Famous People to please stop dying for a little while. Tim Curry was awfully cool and like with Dolly, his passing leaves a sadness.
Rocky Horror is immortal, but this wasn’t bad either:
-Four-
Grammar Stuff
Word I vow to stop misspelling: Here I’ve decided to add grammar mistakes to the ongoing list. This time out fewer versus less is the subject. I keep forgetting they are not the same, that “fewer” means a decrease in the actual, knowable number while “less” refers to uncountable mass numbers, like traffic and such. It is one of those mistakes that most of us make–or at least whatever group it is that includes yours truly.
Bi-word of the bi-week: Collywobbles (n) “whimsical word for butterflies in the stomach”
Hated Word of the Bi-Week: “Icon/iconic.” I have had enough of it. Please stop using it. Such laziness unless used ironically or in dialogue.
-Five-
List Battle Royale
The list this bi-week is different from the norm. First of all it is neither one to ten nor an A to Z offering, it is a list of seven, each item representing a day of the week. My idea is to present a Battle Royale, that wrestling gimmick in which a bunch of steroid-infused bozos hit the ring and go at it until the one guy the promoter says will be the winner remains. This battle involves songs that represent days of the week and will end with a clip of the pre-ordained winner.
The Combatants:
Monday: Come Monday Jimmy Buffet
Tuesday: Tuesday Afternoon Moody Blues
Wednesday: Goodbye Ruby Tuesday The Stones because I cannot think of a Wednesday song and have enough integrity not to google for one
Th: Thursday’s Child Bowie
Friday: Friday on My Mind Easybeats
Sat: Saturday Night’s All right For Fighting E.J. (my band did that one, unbelievable time signature)
Sun: Sunday Morning Sidewalk Kris Kristofferson
The Action:
“Hello folks, Irene the Idler here to call the action of the Great Song of the Day Battle ROY-Al. All seven have entered the squared circle, though Sunday appears to be monumentally intoxicated as Lindsay Lohan. He has staggered off to a corner and appears to be trying to roll a cigarette.
“There’s the ring of the bell. And it is clear that the Moodies and the Stones hooked up to form an allegiance. They have jumped Bowie and Buffet and have excused both from the big dance early. But neither went out first because the Easybeats understood that they did not belong in the same ring with the others and committed the Battle ROY-AL version of suicided by grabbing a handful of its own long hair and yanking itself over the top ring while the opening bell was still ringing.
“This leaves the Moodies, Stones, Sir Elton and Kris K, who appears to have passed out in his corner. Now folks are there two more duplicitous people in music than Mick Jagger and Elton John? Everyone knows the answer to that save for the Moody Blues. And out the first B-list super group goes after a from behind double drop kick from Mick and Reggie.
“The problem with duplicity and evil alliances is that such things must come to a head when all the true competition has been eliminated by unholy teamwork–It appears that both Mick and Elton had made a pre-alliance with Kris, but guess who was feigning drunkenness? And first there goes Elton then Mick (who is yanked clear by the arm of Johnny Cash), as Willie Nelson distracts the ref. It’s as clever as when Kris turned around on three when dueling Jack Elam in the Billy the Kid movie—Ring the bell, and behold the winner who is—
Jesus Christ, it’s getting to be like the obits page around here: Anyway and in memory of Frank Beard (1949-2026)–Stop dying already
And I was just thinking of her when she died this morning. This one hurts personally, for she was always known in my life for her positve energy. Bigger than life, a female Freddie Mercury to me
PLEASE NOTE – WE HAVE BEEN HAVING TROUBLE WITH THE SITE FOR THE LAST THREE DAYS SO WE ARE NOT WORKING THE WAY THAT WE NORMALLY DO. HOPEFULLY IT WILL BE SORTED SOON – Hugh, Diane, Leila.
Week 598 has arrived!!
I’ll leave the lists to Leila but I realised this week that I have a few tunes that I go back to when I need to calm down.
Strangely, my favourite one is one of the last that I’ll ever hear. Well that’s not true as I’ll be being cremated. Maybe it will calm my being / spirit / soul or the fuck all that I’ll have become. Weirdly it’s a piece of classical music. I don’t know much about classical but there are a few pieces that I enjoy. I will be accompanied into the after-life or the fuck all there with Delibes ‘Flower Duet.’
Continue reading “Week 598 – Spread Your Wings And Ragdoll Too, Crap Cocaine And Mr Bowman Would Have Had Their Backs.”
-1-
The dumbest question to ask a kid must be “What do you want to be when you grow up?” (Often preceded by “So”). For me the best answers for that are “How the fuck should I know, I’m seven”; “Lizzie Borden” and “Anything that takes me away from you.” But I never used any because even at that young age I knew it was an insincere “points winning” question usually asked by some dweeb whose aim was to screw my mother.
Continue reading “593: Limping Mind Games”
Another week, another Saturday Posting!
Week 592 if I’m not mistaken.
I wondered why I had so many random stories this week. But I realised why, I held the newspapers back and hadn’t read them for a few days, most of this nonsense, I found today. It’s actually a bit of fortune as I had very little to go on. What I did have can wait for another day.
Continue reading “Week 592 – R.I.P The AP, Julius Is Second And No Nail Varnish.”
Birthday Well Wishes
Happy 250th Independence Day to America! (and to everyone also born on this date, Eva Marie Saint at a whopping 102 and Elliott the Header Pigeon who is attending the Extreme Cigarette Butt Eating Contest in Philadelphia this holiday weekend ). It may not be in season for some to say nice things about and to America, but the U.S.A., like most places is far more good than bad and is a collection of people–not just one person. To all who sneer, I suggest you read what J.C. had to say on the subject of stone casting. And although it is further ironic that the UK should wish the former colonies happy birthday, just think how chaotic things would be if the Revolutionary War had gone the other way. PM Trump anyone?
Now, On with the Show
Asking writers why they write is pointless. It’s the same reason why kleptos steal and killers kill; it is a mental compulsion, sometimes good sometimes bad and always somewhere along the borders of insanity. Some people have the writing disease way worse than most. The bad off will cut words into their skin if they have no other way of getting the job done (and for the visual artist, Van Gogh’s ear-ectomy definitely got a lot more than a thousand words across). Most of us can control ourselves to the extent we can wait until a saner method is handy. But the answer is always the same. Writers write because they are writers. Birds bird. Lizards lizard. Maggots get compared to unsavory people. Writers can go through long periods of inactivity (for some that may be weeks, for me not even a day), but there will always come a time when it must happen, or (to quote Hemingway) we state: “I feel fucked inside.”
Continue reading “Week 591: Natural Born Quillers”
Week 590 has crept up on us.
I am writing this before Scotland’s last group game at The World Cup. They began well with a win over Haiti. Let’s just say that the game with Morocco didn’t go so well. After seventy seconds, the whole of Scotland screamed ‘Awwwwwww FUCK!!!!!’
Continue reading “Week 590 – ‘A Scottish Soldier Is Worse’, ‘Perfect Skin’ Is As Good And A Happy Century!!!”
Well here we are at Week 588.
I was going out on Tuesday to a swanky restaurant and I thought about wearing a tie. Not just a tie, I’ve been in trouble for doing that before. I realised that apart from weddings and funerals, I only think about wearing a tie but never do. I think a tie is smart. I have quite a few. I’ve lost three stunning black ones due to loaning them to people for funerals.
Continue reading “Week 588 – Has America Enough Tennents? You’ll Need More…Seriously, Import more!!!”
(Elliott the Pigeon is on Vacation this week; Daisy Kloverleaf and her brother Fenwick are the header stars. Daisy is on your left)
One of life’s burdens involves processing repetition. Some people are sensitive to it, others meet it with the awareness of a cantaloupe. I am not always smarter than produce, but I have a keen sense for repetition. Therefore I know that the eternal concepts of Good and Bad dictate the perception of welcomed and unwanted repetition. A woman who keeps peeling off twenties is obviously a good thing to have repeated at you, but unless she is gaining something worth it the peeler may have different feelings in her cold little heart–that emotional storage bin that imploded eons ago and is so compressed into inner dimensions that it takes three journeys through as many event horizons just to reach the outskirts of her kindness. You may assume that she, the peeler, has developed a sense of negativity for the old “again and again.”
Continue reading “Week 587: Sometimes it Helps to Hear Another Voice”
literally stories 