Sunday 30 July 2017

And on the seventh day, he rested...

Right, I think I have almost calmed down from the previous post. John's little willy has brought back some humour into my Sunday morning.

I think we all get more like we are as we get older, and the blog world is mainly populated by old people. This is how it should be. I don't want to spend too much time hanging around young people any more than they want me to hang around them. Of course, I would love them to beg me to hang around so that I could refuse, but this is not going to happen.

I hate hanging around old people too, and I really hate hanging around middle-aged people who stupidly believe they have a meaningful future ahead of them, or even just a worthwhile job. I think I just hate hanging around people.

I hate hanging around children, and I would still hate it even if I was allowed to. They demand far too much attention.

The only way I can hang around people in pubs is to drink. I don't know if I drink because it is the only way I can tolerate people, or if I have to tolerate people in order to go to the pub. I cannot remember which came first.

I hate drinking alone at home, because I get really fed up with exclusively hanging around myself, and even being drunk doesn't make it any easier.

When I drink, I get more like myself than I am in company, and I really get fed up with always having the same attitude to things, the same past experiences, the same reaction to things that I disapprove of, or the same stupid pleasure in things that I approve of or just enjoy.

Life would be so much easier if I was a devout Christian and had a reason to get up on Sundays, but I hate hanging around Christians even more than normal people. I would refuse to be a devout Jew because I value my Saturdays, even though I quite often enjoy hanging around Jewish people, and could not be a Moslem because I really look forward to Friday nights in the pub.

I would not want to be a Buddhist and spend all my waking hours trying to get away from myself, no matter how sick of myself I was.

I am reminded of the line in 'Old Man River' - '... tired of living and scared of dying...'

What was it Samuel Johnson said? "A man who is tired of London police is tired of life..."

36 comments:

  1. This was a bit like a riddle and I found my eyes glazing over. Do you still follow my blog?

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    1. My eyes glazed over during the Tour de France. Are we there yet?

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    2. I only wondered because you are not in my list of followers and I know you went but then came back. I wondered if you'd gone again. You commented sometimes during the Tour.

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    3. Maybe I accidentally lost you when I tried to get rid of the Indonesian spammers. I'll go and check now. Those spammers are enough to make me lose my sense of humour on their own.

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    4. I must have unfollowed by accident. I'm back again. I'll read your latest now.

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    5. Maybe it wasn't an accident. I cannot remember.

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  2. I expect that you had a good reason - at the time?

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    1. I expect I was trying to find the source of the Indonesian spam. They usually come through other blogs.

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  3. Truthfully, I'm not an Indonesian spammer, I was trying to be amusing off the back of one. I failed. Obviously.

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    1. Oh, sorry. I am a little paranoid right now and I saw that you only followed me and Cro. The other thing about spammers is that they never have their own posts, let alone profiles. Maybe you should contribute to this rich world of rubbish?

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    2. I don't follow you or Cro. I only follow John - because he's so needy. I can't blog, my witness protection programme won't let me.

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    3. Oh yes, it's John. I mis-remembered. You are definitely right about John being needy, but I am not sure he desperately needs followers because of it.

      I am now suspicious of you all over again.

      Why on earth would anyone on a witness protection programme regime possibly want to expose themselves to the fact by admitting to it?

      I don't believe you, unless this is another sample of you particular brand of humour. Either way, my suspicions about your motives are back.

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    4. Wanda..you are a fag hag of grand proportions ! Talking about me as if I wasnt here

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  4. You just gave a sketch of a man being filled to the brim with plaster, to be turned into a statue. I don't know what 'counting out my life in teaspoons' means, but the plaster is being spooned in in teaspoons. When did you stop enjoying small children. Have all the pub children grown up? Life does go on; no need to become a curmudgeon.

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    1. Don't take me too seriously, Joanne. If there is one thing that curmudgeons contribute to society, it is amusement - at their own expense. The older I get the more I enjoy being in the company of children. They have no baggage, you see.

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  5. Clever misquote at the end.

    I think I really am one of those who measured their life out in coffee spoons as I hate any form of liquor (nothing against it, just don't like the taste). Me thinks you are joking here to some extent Tom - you always sound pretty full of life to me.

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    1. Yes Weave. Like everyone else I have ups and downs, but in this case I am just trying to have a laugh. It's rooted in truth like all humour otherwise it wouldn't be relevant. I try not to treat life like I am waiting for death and I really don't feel too positive about the future, but it's all ok, eh?

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  6. I laughed at the second paragraph. I'd choose kids over adults. I don't want to babysit them, but I like to talk to them and watch them playing. Except for the little shits that throw rocks and sticks at the waterfowl and then I want to shoot them with a BB gun.

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    1. Why sell yourself short with a BB? What's wrong with a 12 gauge? Not many people know that a silenced .410 has a greater muzzle velocity than a 12 bore either.

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  7. Tom, I really liked this post. To be honest, I like honesty. Sometimes you say what I'm thinking. Didn't like that winge in Old Man River, but then you were having a laugh on that one. Life is good even with the pitfalls and we're all going to die sometime - so get on with it x

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    1. Well I can quote the Old Man River line in the secure knowledge that - unlike many people who are treated with a little more disrespect by the Met than I would be as an older man in London - I am white.

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  8. Its not the first time that my small penis has brought sone joy

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  9. I'm not old (not old), but I always admire the way your thoughts reach the target with a deft sideways spin. So many people shoot straight and dull.

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    1. I think it is called rambling, Mise. Am I right in thinking you have disabled comments on your rare posts, or just mine?

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    2. I am with you Mise. I really can't take those who shoot straight and dull.

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    3. If I wanted to kill something, I would shoot straight and get it over with. Right now I don't want to kill anything.

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    4. So it is called rambling - as in "The Midnight's Rambler"? I love rambling. And young people, old people, children, your pub The Bell -- I could ramble on and on...

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  10. Good afternoon from New York, Tom. I've now read the posts that you've written since I last commented. As usual, I liked the mix to topics.
    I remember my late father saying, when he was in his late 80s, that he liked knowing a mix of people, and that his current youngest friend was the 2-year-old who lived next door. I smiled then, and now, at that thought, knowing that my father had perhaps truly known only about four or five non-white folks in his entire life who were not somehow his employees.
    The electrical repair work continues. I have yet to fully interrogate any of the repair team about the fibre optic angle. I don't want to do anything to slow down their progress.
    Isn't it great to see some Miss posts!
    Best wishes.

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    1. I despise builders. They are usually idiots and I have spent 50% of my adult life trying to talk to the fucking morons. Whenever I meet a builder now, I just start insulting them to save time in the future. They ask why I insult them, and I ask if they have not done what I accuse them of, and they confirm that they have.

      They are all just about useless.

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    2. Oh, so many typos in my comment. Perhaps I am affected by the builders? Are electrical utility repair teams builders? I guess that they are in a way, even if what I've seen so far from my front window and from street level seems like lots of opening up of the street and explorations below ground, and emptying out of the neatly dug out square/cubic spaces.

      In a few months it will be cool enough for me to close my windows, even if the project is still incomplete.

      Mise, sorry that autocorrect was incorrect.

      Best wishes.

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  11. I knew that I missed something badly, Tom, when I was jumping from one airport to another! YOU are really unique!!! Valuable insights into man's psyche - Let's drink to that! Cheers!

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    1. Please don't worry. I am not like all men... I hope! Please also introduce me to Bruno Ganz...

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