Buddhist Pizza Sovereign Funds

There has been a certain amount of rumour, innuendo and tittle tattle about the use of Buddhist Pizza Sovereign Funds (BPSF). I can confirm that the resources of BPSF have been used to assist enfeebled Central Banks and other financial institutions.
An entirely modest sum of up to 100 trillion dollars might have been used in this way but because of commercial confidentiality, our rigorous accounting principles and the fact that we have not gathered up the loose change from the back of the corporate sofa, as it were, the details are not to be made public at this time. We have sought approval from our auditors, Messrs Bent and Curle, to report these matters over an extended period of 50 years because of the adverse effects this disclosure could have on individual organisations and on the global financial system.

Q. Easing,
Chief Finance Officer, BPSF

B. Lind,
For Bent and Curle.

Benny and Rowan.

So Benny and Rowan finally got it together.

Benny:- Good to meet you Rowan.

Rowan:- Listen you nazi mudderfucker you are dead. No more nicey, nicey. Take youra bloodsoaked hands offa my people. They are good, god fearin folk, and dey dona want your papist crap!

Benny:- Rowan, remember Isiah, let us reason a little!

Rowan:- Look you creep. You wanna kill saucepans, you wanna make the world a better place go f**k yourself. I gorra tradition, I gorra principles, I gorra theology! Yeah, what you got punk?

Recipe

Julie and Julia

Greatly enjoyed. So much butter! So much joy of life!
Go see it and look up the you tube additions.

Someone asked me why would you want to bone a duck?
Because you could produce pate of duck en croute.
Perhaps.

It is fortunate I did not have to marry a republican and breed like a rabbit.

A late addition to the recipe question.

Arse covering fudge.
Sadly no recipe from M. Fort.
Grauniad Weekend 14/11/09

93

The celebration of the 93rd birthday of a family matriarch.
Fish in cream sauce, peas(frozen) and chips from the local; all as we believed the said matriarch
would want; but maybe not so. Of course the whole including cherry crumble and custard as a desert was supported by a very nice white wine.
Sadly, I'm sure if we had asked if she would like jelly and custard. The answer would be yes.
But we had fun, and cards from children and presents and lots of explosions of

Good gracious!

the most extreme expression I have heard my M(other) I(n) L(aw) - MIL come out with
I can get my head round a lot of things but not the idea that there might be a time or place or
condition I might not be able to get my head round things.
For me I think this is the most scary thing.

Anyway!
Gracias a la vida; again!

Rhetoric

John Naughton, as always, identifies an interesting potential use of a wordcloud at Memex 1.1
In connection to a major speech given by a D. Cameron.
He suggests that the list of words, of different sizes depending on frequency(?), might be:-

an interesting tool for tracking changes in rhetoric — and perhaps even policy.

Indeed so.

Here at the Buddhist Pizza Institutute for the Study of Rhetorical Diseases (BPISRD, Founded in 1969 by D. Lessing.) we have been using a similar device to diagnose rhetorical disease, its form and intensity.
Oh my! I must say the Subject D. Cameron has it bad! The size of the terms
government, political and power (0.9 each on the Lessing Scale)
compared to the terms
community, rage and whips (0.01 each on the Lessing Scale)
indicates a rhetoric pathologically out of balance.
It is always difficult to diagnose and prescribe at distance and of course he will have his own clinical rhetoricians to advise him but I would suggest a period of deep reflection and something light and refreshing to read, say Nietzsche. 'On Truth and Lies in a Nonmoral Sense' and 'The Will to Power' - should keep him bubbling along nicely!

The Great Escape

Herself spent some time, recently, interfacing with the NHS.
Two points worthy of note.
She did not mention, prior to admission, that the surgeon was a man of great charm, wit, sensitivity, openness and transparency, drop dead gorgeous boyish good looks; and one of those useful little bags that go over your shoulder and under your arm. (Not George Clooney but definitely Noah Wyle.)
Why should she!
So we go through the trials and tribulations. All is pronounced well, for the time being, and we are discharged.
Because of the shift change we are not discharged as quickly as we could be. Several hours later we are packing the bags, getting dressed, whistling the tune from the Great Escape, sotto voce, and ready to head for the door. A rude interruption ensues. Herself is accused of being an impostor who needs a bed for the night and a referral letter to Addenbrooke's.

Shite and onions!

I raise my voice to what I hope is a commanding but not intimidating level and affirm the name address, marital status, and inside leg measurements of herself and the fact that we are not now, nor have we ever been associated with Addenbrooke's. That is the prerogative of the woman in the other corner of the surgical bay and we wish her good luck. We, the few, the chosen few are heading for the door. It seems to work. Off we go down the escape route, sorry the corridor and I can't help breaking out into full whistle.

The Great Escape, a great movie, a great tune, just think of all the times you could whistle it to make a small point!

Gitanos!

It's interesting that Gypsy is a term of abuse; also to be avoided for reasons of political correctness...
and certainly something that readers of the Daily Mail would home in on.

However, some of us don't, necessarily, accept that.
I was taxed, recently, to come up with suggestions for music for a welcome event for Roma in the Northwest of our country. For souls who had come from 'godknowswhere'. Perhaps even Ulster

"Are youse Catholic Gypsys or Protestant Gypsys? Sure we mean no harm but we have to know!"

I thought about all the usual supects and came up with Taraf de Haidouks.

That will knock their pretty little Roma socks off; hmm....

When the CD was returned I was amused that one of the younger Roma kids pointed out a member of the band and well....
- you know the rest!

Anyway, all of which is a means of introducing...

Walking Wounded

Try the Gypsy Dance and tell me that you don't get it!

Why I love Saturday afternoons.

Why I love (some) Saturday afternoons

A liddle wine.
A very small chicken.
No Aubergines, not even a small one and....

Lucy, god bless her, at WOMEX 2009

Beeb, Radio 3 -
3pm 7 Nov. 2009
The programme on iPlayer won't be around for ever.
Get it while it's good and hot!

Long Song Genghis Come Wuji
Hanggai
Well what would you do if you were an out of work Chinese punk with no prospects.

Gilzene and the Blue Light Mento Band
Arr. Gilzene: Sweet Sweet Jamaica
Arr. Gilzene: Come back Liza

I tell you Liza may or may not come back. I have no knowledge of her or her plight other than the story carried in the sweet, sweet tones of the Mento Band.
Brought water to m'eye.

Lambert: La fille de la vigneron
Yves Lambert and the Bebert Orchestra
Late of the La Bottine Souriante.
Delivers quite a kick.

I'll have to go, I've got a chicken on the hob!

Times are hard!

Times are hard!
Yes, you heard me, times are hard.
Every man jack of us is feeling the pinch.
You could take the view that £140 a bottle, allegedly, is not worth getting out of bed for.
Or, you could play up; play the game; deal with the hand that the good lord has dealt you and get on with it!

We all have to make sacrifices.

Many thanks to Memex for the link.

Jigs

A difficult week in some ways but much heartened by the thought that in times past there was an ordinance to the effect that there should be :-

No lewd jigs at the end of plays

Dear god, lewd jigs, ah!
I'm very grateful to Lucie Skeaping who explored the often forgotten world of the Elizabethan stage jig -and put such thoughts into my mind.
The jig is, I am told, a popular form of bawdy musical comedy from the 16th and 17th century.
Amen, sisters.

Black and White

I have mentioned , in a previous post, the prodigious talent of Jane Bown
The Grauniad has an interactive site/tribute to her work set out by decade.
Either it has been a bit unstable today, or my Firefox is on the Fritz.
However, I look forward to exploring it in the future and I hope it is going to be around for some time!

Who are you?

Come on, jump to it, no snoozing at the back or there will be more difficult questions later.
Interesting Horizon last night. The Secret You:- BBC Two, 09:00pm Tuesday 20th October 2009.

Professor Marcus du Sautoy goes in search of answers to one of science's greatest mysteries: how do we know who we are?

Smart boy wanted and Sir Marcus de Saveloy of Hackney is one of the smarter sausages being a mathematician of some not inconsiderable talent and the ability to explain it all.

Well the answer seems to be that we normally (including chimps and orang-utans) become aware that we are individuals before the age of 2. We can recognise ourselves in the mirror and remove a sticker that has been placed on our face taking it directly from our face. Our brains appear to respond very specifically to a picture of a person in the same way that they respond to the name of that person in text!

Our brains light up with electrical activity when we are awake. They can be stimulated by magnetic fields producing electrical activity at a particular point and the whole brain starts behaving like a communications network, which of course it is, with billions of nodes able to get in on the act. When we are asleep The message is delivered but there is usually no one home! However, it appears to be possible to stimulate the brains of individuals in a vegetative state by suggesting they think about, say, playing tennis. The pattern produced appears to be the same as that in conscious volunteers asked to think about the same activity.

The experiment which seem to knock de Saveloy's very pretty little socks off was quite a simple one for this day and age. Your man was wired up and put in the brain scanning machine with the wherewithal to choose between right and left by pressing buttons. His brain was scanned before the choice and then the choice was made. The investigator claimed to be able to predict the choice, left or right, up to 6 seconds before de Saveloy consciously made it!

We may know who we are in one sense but am I the union between my, not insubstantial, corporeal self and the billions of networking neurons producing electro-chemical activity in my brain?

Save energy - recycle thoughts

A post to the effect that previously only Toffs (yes we are in the age of Toffs) could afford to buy books and now only Toffs can afford to read them. Nice one Quentin! But I might take issue with you over this one. Mrs Brown packed a few volumes in and I, a poor and lowly thing, have managed to squeeze a few tomes for nurture.
You may know already, but if you do not, ambulance persons use the term Tof. It may not be proper or correct, however, it identifies the condition where an older person falls over and sustains a fracture to the top of the femur. As an older person who recently sustained a fall in the sobriety of the early afternoon I was reassured, on a number of counts, I was not a Tof.

In addition!





So that is what Dave Mackay looks like.

One of the books you should read is:-
David J.C. MacKay. Sustainable Energy – without the hot air.
UIT Cambridge, 2008. ISBN 978-0-9544529-3-3.
Available free online from www.withouthotair.com.

So it won't cost you anything but the time! You can't afford not to!

Memento homo

So a day of memories.
The Royal Mail, of which much has been discussed, promptly delivered my middle class, middle aged pornographic purchasing mag. Which to be precise!

Sweet memories!

There on the 'Support your local dealer' literature was a picture of Steve, or Mr Hatt to you.
Dear god I have such fond memories. My first Salmon Trout, first sight of a red herring, fish smoked and plain, banter in the Saturday Queue, watching what Terry Kelly (or Tariq Ali)
was buying for the dinner party, finding a Gurnard, buying it, and seeing the look of appreciation in Steve's eyes .... If you are within 75 miles make a detour and just look in the window! You will be rewarded and much good will come to the fruit of your loins.

I had to travel to Thetford. I thought to compensate for this I would play Planxty. Doesn't everyone have a website now. I remember going to a show in the official Edinburgh Festival where they were the backing band. Cracking stuff. Problem was we were the only members of the audience clapping along to the tunes, stamping, and letting out whoops at the appropriate moments.

Strange that but it led me to think that the woman is dead now and no one thought to tell me, but why should they?

Once upon a time in the North.

So; here we are again, happy as can be, all good friends and jolly good company!
Up to a point Lord MacCopper.
Interesting set of articles from Open Democracy, Ooor Kingdom!

We see things very differently below Adrian's Wal, but we do so at our peril.
We do so especially if we are an English Toff about to govern a united kingdom (?) with a government of English Toffs.

Boots

The Post - Tough as Old Boots had me thinking.
One of our Ambling Group is a dedicated walker and clocks up hundreds of miles a year.
He usually gets through a pair after each long walk and, because he keeps careful records of his walking, he is able to link a mileage to each pair of boots. As much for a laugh as anything else he divides the cost of the boots by his mileage . I suspect he hovers around 10p a mile. Interesting! I've no idea what he does with the old boots but I guess they get put in the bin rather than the midden! The post mentions the fact that boots (along with cats) are sometimes found concealed within old houses.

We stayed in a B&B recently that had a child's shoe in the wall.

The Angel's Game

Recently acquired the above through the usual channels. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, know what I mean!
I enjoyed it greatly, not as much as the 'Shadow of the Wind', but whatever!
I stumbled out of the community lunch, not drunk but with a good excuse. I noticed the Library Van, the one with the big 'Dish' on the roof, was parked outside.
Paranoia!
They know I am not going to return it tomorrow, when it is due, and when some poor borrower is expecting it to be returned.

I will pay my fine, gladly, so herself, who has had her nose stuck in it, can enjoy it!

Life has been a bit hard all round so...

Also got round to reading A Confederacy of Dunces.

Still Room?

We have been on holiday in the land of the Wal, Adrian's Wal.
We have also been plagued by notices which have caused us to stop and think deeply; not necessarily something you want to do while resting your brain on holiday.
This, for instance can not be true for all time and for all capacities.



Maybe the estate has a man who comes round at the appointed time and unscrews the notice putting up another bearing the legend...

That's enough now! No more shoving, you could not get another sardine in there sideways.

Other signs which caught our eye indicated Severe Dips.
What, pray, are these mordant mixtures ready to assail us on the roads?
Barbaric Barbecue,
Caustic Cream Cheese,
Grave Guacamole,
Harsh Hummus,
Tight-lipped Taramasalata,
Taxing Tzatziki.
We never found any of them. Perhaps they were the Hidden Dips which seemed to abound or not as the case may be!

Doors were often identified as Alarmed. I know I can be a sight but I would never, knowingly, frighten a lump of wood! Some doors were Alarmed at Night; poor things obviously scared of the dark!

The sign which gave us most concern advised Caution, Sheep!
I'm telling you we drove very carefully past those beasts, not wanting to provoke a savage attack on our tires or even having our windscreen wipers broken off!

We had a grand time. He built a lot of Wal old Adrian, and roads and ruins and had hypercosts.
Interesting to note even the Romans had dodgy builders and inflation.

Expenses Smexpenses!

At the start of my interweb journey I discovered I was able to read Carl Hiaasen in the Miami Herald. We had enjoyed his novellas for some time and now I could follow his day to day take on a very corrupt part of a very corrupt country. I revisited his column recently and realised that our politicians may be as morally corrupt as anything in the sunshine state but for sheer imagination, brio and off the wall excess you can't beat the guys and gals in this post.

From up in the Panhandle we learn that Rep. Ray Sansom of Destin ran up $173,000 on an American Express card issued to him by the state Republican Party.

Sansom was speaker of the House for about nine seconds until it was revealed that he'd taken a $110,000-a-year job with Northwest Florida State College, after steering $35 million in extra or accelerated public funding to that school...

... Meanwhile, down in old Key West, suspended Monroe County School Superintendent Randy Acevedo was being prosecuted in another case of dubiously extravagant fringe benefits.

Acevedo was accused of trying to cover up some of his wife's alleged ``misappropriations,'' including nearly $200,000 in tuitions and fees that were supposed to fund adult education programs...

...Records show that Monique Acevedo also racked up more than $95,000 on her school-issued credit card for items that she claimed were necessary for classes in cosmetology, GED and English as a Second Language.

These vital educational aids included bar stools, pink silk ties, a chandelier, a table saw, spear-gun attachments and a DVD box set of the popular HBO show, Six Feet Under.

See, that's where we go wrong. The spouse of a british politician would, say, hire a few videos from the local shop porno section. Flickering images, passing clouds, fleeting pleasure compared to a box set of Six Feet Under! Plus you get to rip Thomas Newman's catchy little tune to MP3.

By this shall all men know....

A very sad post, a sign of the times, shades of things to come. What the hell will they do with our libraries when they get round to cuts. I'm sorry I'll re-phrase that. When they review, reallocate and prioritise existing resources in new, exciting and transformational ways.

I'm old enough and wise enough to realise that there are priorities. For the want of money and humanity the right to live is being denied. However, a taste of the post and the arguement that bread alone is never enough...

Think of the millions of lifelong love-affairs with literacy sparked in the collections of those libraries.

Read the post and weep. I'm not sure I should thank John Naughton for the link, depressing.