This was supposed to be a sort of review and reprise of George Orwell’s “The Decline Of The English Murder,” only my point of view is very different to his. Which makes his essays the more appealing to me. Add Orwell’s beautiful and evocative writing and you have a blissful read.
Not that murders are blissful, but that’s the point of murders – and the point of Orwell looking at their decline. Orwell’s books were written to be read by those who enjoy reading, those who read the story as much for the writing as the story itself. But that is what makes literature; if it’s only a story thinly interwoven by lumpy descriptions, it’s pulp fiction.
Bolly, my new cat, was a cat that my friend Hendrik couldn’t really look after. Bolly kept pestering his younger cat, Timmy, and Hendrik couldn’t bear the fights – such as they weren’t. It is the nature of a mature cat to be territorial, they need this because they have to ensure their supply of food. Their territorial instincts are drawn from this reality and maintain the cat’s future.
This does have downsides for the cat, in that they have to be constantly on the alert which means they get very little sleep. Indeed, Hendrik mentioned that he could only get any sleep when the two cats were in different rooms. It wasn’t so much that fur flew or that blood was drawn; the occasional hiss was enough to keep him awake.
Life is everywhere, it is the metaphor for our earth. It is there that things might live. I want to take a generalized look at the various kinds of life that exist on earth, and take a rational look at what this implies about these forms of life.
In the world around us, the simplest class of life that we can see is the plant. I will leave aside the microscopic organisms as we cannot see them; indeed, I have dealt with these on my private blog, for the misunderstandings about them are legion and it takes some seriously clear thinking to wade through the various illusions.
It’s not a problem for the Dutch alone, but when it comes to walking their dogs, it’s usually a case of the dog walking the Dutch. When a dog’s pulling at the lead, the dog is telling the walker that the dog is boss. It’s not very helpful in a world where the busy road next to them has cars travelling at 60km/h (40mph). Oh, and it’s a 30km/h zone… but again, that’s not something limited to the Dutch alone. But these are problems we’ve created for ourselves.
In a long forgotten post I spoke about spam. It is so forgotten that it was never transferred to my updated website… three (four) years ago? The spammers haven’t forgotten me, though, have they? I get a modest amount of spam each week, and I hope it will remain so because I find spam boring. They’re like the telemarketers. The people who phone you with ‘number withheld’, only to assail you with gleeful news that – well, you know the rest, don’t you? It’ll cost you money and you won’t see much – if any – of it again.
The Breughels, father and son, were painters in the modern style. It is said of the younger Breughel that he copied a lot of his father’s works; this isn’t the point. The younger Breughel depicted them in the way he could as an individual.
Whilst this is a religious painting that has a traditional theme, the manner of its depiction is very new. Instead of the formed ranks of poe faced onlookers and an unhappy but very staid Christ Jesus, we have here a gathering of real people and a still unhappy but far more mobile image of Jesus as he trudged his way up that hill. Now, Breughel’s father had painted this scene in 1564 but the two paintings are quite different. Perhaps I’ll have to take a few piccies when I’m next in Vienna, where it is held. This is its picture from Wikipedia.
April 6th 1917 was the day America entered WW1. That was celebrated by the US military with a show of power in the Middle East. An act that shocked me to the core, and believe me, it takes a lot to shock me. Persistent online trolling has not only taught me much, it has given me a thick skin to the ignorant of our world. What it cannot do, however, is give me a skin thick enough to survive an exploding cruise missile.