I woke with quite a headache this morning. We
won’t get that brand of red wine again. I made toast and looked into the Internet
and rolled my eyes. American football
player Tyler Owens has revealed that he
does not 'believe in space or other planets”. Seriously. Just look up at
the night sky… The chap also seems to think the flat earthers are making some
serious points. Not only is this chap allowed to vote and do jury service,
being a sports star, gullible people will listen to his drivel.
Here’s a suggestion.
When people reach adulthood they should sit an exam. If they pass they are
allowed to join in with society. If they fail, they become effectively a “protected
citizen” looked after by a state to which they are demonstrably unable to
contribute. It’s an old idea in sci-fi, but surely one with merit. How can our
current democracy work when the opinion of someone like this is of equal value
to someone who actually believes in reality.
Being Saturday I took
the hounds round to Dog Club. Just me; “er indoors TM” was
off to Craft Club. I had wondered whether I would be taking them this morning
after yesterday’s rain, but the rain had eased up a little. The ground was
still muddy though. We had a great time. Honey who started only a month ago and
had been oh-so-timid came straight up to me to say hello. Bailey had a go at “fetch”
in that she chased after the ball, but lost interest when it stopped bouncing.
Fudge used to do that – I think he was colourblind. Is Bailey too? Treacle did
her usual trick of carrying a ball and prompting me to try to take it. And then
Morgan and Bailey joined in with the bigger dogs playing chase in the mud.
As we drove home so the
rain got worse. I got the mystery year competition on the radio right. What
year was the TV adaptation of Brideshead Revisited released? 1981.
We came home for a
serious scrub. All three dogs got far filthier after half an hour at Dog Club
than they ever do after hours in the woods.
With dogs scrubbed I
put my trousers though the washing machine – they were filthy too. I then sent
out messages about next week’s geo-meet to fifty Hunters of Tupperware.
Hopefully that should drum up the numbers.
And talking of numbers
I then struggled with a new geo-puzzle that went live this
morning.
“er indoors TM” returned, and as the
rain stopped so I got the pressure-washer out again and had a go in the back
garden. I got quite a bit cleaned, but there’s still a lot more to do. I could
have carried on pressure-washing but the lawn was awash where I’d been at the
stepping stones, so I packed up for today.
“er indoors TM” went off again to get
glasses, so I sparked up the telly and laughed at “Ancient Aliens”
on the telly. Rather akin in intellectual ability to the American footballer
who boiled my piss this morning, the people who made this show wanted to
attribute absolutely everything to aliens. Given a dog turd in my garden, and
three guilty-looking dogs, these people would have you think some
hyper-intelligent alien species flew half way across the universe to dump on my
lawn. And these idiots would do anything to discredit the obvious explanation.
“er indoors TM” returned again, this
time with “Darcie
Waa Waa TM” in tow. Littlun is having a sleepover. So far we’ve
done dog-snogging, had a tantrum over not wanting our dinner, eaten a bag of Christmas
(crisps) and a bag of party rings, and as I type littlun is having her
grandmother walk her up and down the stairs.
Much as I love her, she’s hard work. I can’t remember “My Boy TM”
and “Daddy’s Little Angel TM” being anything like as tiring.
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