Blowing Bubbles

Click on this link below for a bevy of beautiful bubbles, well worth the visit!

JUST BUBBLES

JUST BUBBLES

Rudyard Kipling (30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)

GUNGA DIN By Rudyard Kipling You may talk o' gin and beer When you're quartered safe out 'ere, An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it; But when it comes to slaughter You will do your work on water, An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it. Now in Injia's sunny clime, Where I used to spend my time A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen, Of all them blackfaced crew The finest man I knew Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din. He was "Din! Din! Din! You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din! Hi! slippery ~hitherao~! Water, get it! ~Panee lao~! [Bring water swiftly.] You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din." The uniform 'e wore Was nothin' much before, An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind, For a piece o' twisty rag An' a goatskin water-bag Was all the field-equipment 'e could find. When the sweatin' troop-train lay In a sidin' through the day, Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl, We shouted "Harry By!" [Mr. Atkins's equivalent for "O brother."] Till our throats were bricky-dry, Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all. It was "Din! Din! Din! You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been? You put some ~juldee~ in it [Be quick.] Or I'll ~marrow~ you this minute [Hit you.] If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!" 'E would dot an' carry one Till the longest day was done; An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear. If we charged or broke or cut, You could bet your bloomin' nut, 'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear. With 'is ~mussick~ on 'is back, [Water-skin.] 'E would skip with our attack, An' watch us till the bugles made "Retire", An' for all 'is dirty 'ide 'E was white, clear white, inside When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire! It was "Din! Din! Din!" With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green. When the cartridges ran out, You could hear the front-files shout, "Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!" I shan't forgit the night When I dropped be'ind the fight With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been. I was chokin' mad with thirst, An' the man that spied me first Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din. 'E lifted up my 'ead, An' he plugged me where I bled, An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green: It was crawlin' and it stunk, But of all the drinks I've drunk, I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din. It was "Din! Din! Din! 'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen; 'E's chawin' up the ground, An' 'e's kickin' all around: For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!" 'E carried me away To where a dooli lay, An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean. 'E put me safe inside, An' just before 'e died, "I 'ope you liked your drink", sez Gunga Din. So I'll meet 'im later on At the place where 'e is gone -- Where it's always double drill and no canteen; 'E'll be squattin' on the coals Givin' drink to poor damned souls, An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din! Yes, Din! Din! Din! You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din! Though I've belted you and flayed you, By the livin' Gawd that made you, You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din! From Wikipedia - "Joseph Rudyard Kipling (30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936) was a British author and poet. Born in Bombay, in British India, he is best known for his works of fiction The Jungle Book (1894) (a collection of stories which includes Rikki-Tikki-Tavi), Kim, The Man Who Would Be King, Mandalay (1890), Gunga Din (1890), and If (1910). He is regarded as a major "innovator in the art of the short story"; his children's books are enduring classics of children's literature; and his best works speak to a versatile and luminous narrative (1888); and his poems, including gift." (1901) (a tale of adventure), many short stories..." Note: The two photos above of actor Sam Jaffe as Gunga Din (a very minor title role) came from an atrocity of a film showcasing Cary Grant (entertaining enough but renowned mostly for his handsome, pretty-boy face. His real name was not Cary Grant, but was Archibald Alexander Leach. Such bleeping, useless triviality befouling great poetry!).

Christmas Poems From India

"Here is a cute and warm collection of Christmas Poems for those a getting a little sentimental on the joyous occasion!" Merry Christmas, Baby By: Patrick U. Sunday The weather outside is cold We'll sit by the fireplace We'll cuddle and be cozy and stare at each other's face. Wait till we hear Christmas bells and the night is filled with peace Give each other a Christmas kiss And we'll fill our peace increase. It's a time of joy and love in our hearts to be filled On this very special night our love will be sealed. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year Ahead, Baby ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Thanks Patrick. It leaves me all shivery. I must be running a temp. This next poem is genuine literature, the real full-meal-deal. Read it closely. Learn something... Christmas in India DIM dawn behind the tamerisks-the sky is saffron-yellow- As the women in the village grind the corn, And the parrots seek the riverside, each calling to his fellow That the Day, the staring Easter Day, is born. Oh the white dust on the highway! Oh the stenches in the byway! Oh the clammy fog that hovers over earth! And at Home they're making merry 'neath the white and scarlet berry- What part have India's exiles in their mirth? Full day begind the tamarisks-the sky is blue and staring- As the cattle crawl afield beneath the yoke, And they bear One o'er the field-path, who is past all hope or caring, To the ghat below the curling wreaths of smoke. Call on Rama, going slowly, as ye bear a brother lowly- Call on Rama-he may hear, perhaps, your voice! With our hymn-books and our psalters we appeal to other altars, And to-day we bid "good Christian men rejoice!" High noon behind the tamarisks-the sun is hot above us- As at Home the Christmas Day is breaking wan. They will drink our healths at dinner-those who tell us how they love us, And forget us till another year be gone! Oh the toil that knows no breaking! Oh the Heimweh, ceaseless, aching! Oh the black dividing Sea and alien Plain! Youth was cheap-wherefore we sold it. Gold was good-we hoped to hold it, And to-day we know the fulness of our gain. Grey dusk behind the tamarisks-the parrots fly together- As the sun is sinking slowly over Home; And his last ray seems to mock us shackled in a lifelong tether. That drags us back how'er so far we roam. Hard her service, poor her payment-she in ancient, tattered raiment- India, she the grim Stepmother of our kind. If a year of life be lent her, if her temple's shrine we enter, The door is shut-we may not look behind. Black night behind the tamarisks-the owls begin their chorus - As the conches from the temple scream and bray. With the fruitless years behind us, and the hopeless years before us, Let us honour, O my brother, Christmas Day! Call a truce, then, to our labors-let us feast with friends and neighbors, And be merry as the custom of our caste; For if "faint and forced the laughter," and if sadness follow after, We are richer by one mocking Christmas past. by Rudyard Kipling Kipling was one of the most popular writers in English, in both prose and verse, in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Thought provoking! Bah humbug, Rudyard. And you wrote fairy tales! Kipling was among the greatest of writers! Remember the joys of The Jungle Book? If you don't know about him please Google Rudyard Kipling and get yourself a proper, nicely starched British education... just for the great pleasure of it. Have a happy and holy Christmas

Camel-lovers boycott 'Third World' Australia. Clearly the "lovers" haven't yet heard about yummy camel steaks...

a hairy camel story...

From AAP via

December 02, 2009 02:18pm

UK RESIDENTS outraged by plans to cull some 6000 camels are warning other Europeans against visiting Australia.

Online discussion forums, which describe Australia as a Third World country, have been running hot since it was revealed last week that residents in a small central Australian community were being held hostage by a herd of thirsty, marauding camels.

The Northern Territory government announced last week it would conduct an emergency cull of some 6000 feral camels at a cost of $49,000.

NT Local Government Minister Rob Knight has since received hate mail from around the world.

Docker River, 500km south west of Alice Springs, has been inundated by thousands of wild camels in recent weeks.

As well as smashing water infrastructure in their hunt for moisture, the quality of drinking water in the town is being threatened by the decaying bodies of camels that have been trampled by their herd.

The UK Times Online last week posted a story* about the camel seige, which prompted an influx of public comment.

One blogger suggested spending the $49,000 to build a water hole for the camels, rather than herding them out of town by helicopter to slaughter them.

"The animals that live here alongside us deserve respect and if we can help them live, what is so wrong with that?" K Jordon wrote.

Many comments state that Australia is not worthy of G20 status, while others claim Australians have a chip on their shoulder.

"Please tell all your friends that Australia is the worst nation on earth and they should stay away," William Burt wrote.

"Yet further evidence, if any were needed, that Australia is a Third World country with a standard of living markedly below even the worst in Europe," John Spurway said.

One person from Germany wrote to Mr Knight last week, saying he was "outraged and shocked" by the government's plan.

"So 6000 innocent, gentle creatures have to die for only 350 humans?" he wrote.

Baby Camel Victim (Veal?)

"To me, these creatures have the same right to live under God's sun and drink his water as any other, including the human species."

The comments mirrored similar attacks made on US television earlier this year, calling Prime Minister Kevin Rudd a "serial killer" for culling camels in remote Australia.

The talk show host called the cull "genocide" and used a stuffed camel toy to demonstrate how the animals would be killed.

Toy Camel

Despite the backlash, not all correspondence to Mr Knight has been critical of the decision to cull.

One man from Tanzania said he was an "avid large game hunter".

"I would be more than happy to volunteer my time and knowledge for the culling effort to assist your area," he wrote. There are about one million feral camels throughout Australia, with numbers doubling every eight or nine years.

Real Camels ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Times' camel pix does not look at all feral (note halter!)

Feral camels terrorise Australian Outback community

Sophie Tedmanson in Sydney

An Australian Outback town is under siege from thousands of feral camels that have invaded the area in search of water.

Up to 6,000 of the animals have caused chaos in the Northern Territory town of Docker River, trampling through homes, breaking water tanks and disrupting the emergency airstrip.

Rob Knight, the local government minister for the Northern Territory, said that the situation was critical and he had allocated A$49,000 (£27,000) to address the problem. “The community of Docker River is under siege by 6,000 marauding, wild camels,” said Mr Knight. “This is a significant community, some 350 people. They have come right into the community, smashing infrastructure, so it’s become a critical situation.

“There are health issues. There are camels being trampled, and carcasses. They are smashing over water mains and intruding on the airstrip, causing problems with medical evacuations.”

Graham Taylor, chief executive of the MacDonnell Shire Council, which is responsible for Docker River, about 310 miles (500km) southwest of Alice Springs, said that the camels began arriving about five weeks ago, but their numbers had grown dramatically. He said many in the Aboriginal community were terrified, and had locked themselves in their homes. Some children, keen to go outside and play with the animals, were in danger of being trampled by the herd.

Mr Taylor said that the camels were so desperate they had broken fire hydrants and drinking troughs, and some had resorted to licking drops of water from the evaporation cooling systems on the roofs of houses. “Some people are opening their windows and all they see is camels,” he said.

“What seems to be happening is that they are coming into the town looking for water for four or five days. They have a drink, and they linger . . . and more and more keep arriving. The numbers are building daily.”

Mr Taylor said that the emergency money would fund helicopters and crews to herd the camels ten miles out of town, where they would be shot. This is expected to start within the next few days.

Wild camels are a problem in central Australia, where more than a million roam. In July, the federal Government allocated A$19 million to control the animals, including a widespread cull.

Few poms, nor U.S. talk-show hosts, nor media scribes have been known for their swift intellect...

Camel meat is Low in cholesterol; high in protein and it is similar in taste and texture to beef.

Camel meat is prescribed good in the Australian Quarantine and Inspection Service Meat Orders. The National Heart Foundation of Australia recognizes camel meat as a health food.

It is becoming more popular in the Meat market chains in all the world. Consumed in many countries Middle East, Africa, Australia and Asia and now in Europe.

I too am outraged, by the apparent waste of good meat....

Here is a chance to start a discussion on this earth-shaking issue within the "comments" section below.

Do you agree with the Australian government and me that delicious camel meat is an excellent heart-healthy, lean substitute for beef, or are you among the insufferable ning-nong members of the P.E.T.A. terror organisation and the pommies?

Speak up! Your opinion is prized here as excellent fodder for derision...

ADDENDUM

Reality Stars Charged for Killing Rat

An Aussie TV chef and a soap opera actor have been charged with animal cruelty for killing and eating a rat in the British edition of I'm a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here! The show is filmed in Australia, and authorities there say the two didn't have permission to kill the rodent to spice up their meal. W.T.F.?!?!?! Do I need permission to kill anything for food? Even in Australia the are some proper muttonheads misusing authority! ALWAYS QUESTION ATHORITY! Read all about it at the link here. Cut and paste to address bar.

http://tinyurl.com/yzea9vf

CATS! The remake

OK, I failed with the last post to reproduce all of the great cat pix that M. S. sent to me with a request to forward them to at least five people. I never honor "Forward" requests except those from Mses. M. S. & R. B., both remarkable exceptions. So, here is my insubstantial ode, with a whole lot of help from T. S. Elliot, to Ms. M. S.'s wish:

The Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat:

If you offer him pheasant he would rather have grouse.

If you put him in a house he would much prefer a flat,

If you put him in a flat then he'd rather have a house.

If you set him on a mouse then he only wants a rat,

If you set him on a rat then he'd rather chase a mouse.

T. S. Elliot

Well, of all things

Can it be really?

Yes! No! Ho! Hi! Oh, my eye!

My mind may be wandering, but I confess

I believe it is Old Deuteronomy!

THE AWFUL BATTLE OF THE PEKES
AND THE POLLICLES

Of the awful battle of the pekes and the pollicles
Together with some account Of the participation of the pugs
and the poms
And the intervention of the great Rumpus Cat!!!
The pekes and the pollicles everyone knows
Are a proud and implacable passionate foes
It is always the same whereever one goes
And the Pugs and the Poms although most people say
That they did not like fighting yet once in a way
Will once and again join into the fray
And they
Bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark
Until you could hear them all over the park
Now on the occassion of which I shall speak
Almost nothing had happened for nearly a week
And that's a long time for a Pol or a Peke
The big police dog was away from his beat
I don't know the reason but most people think
He slipped into the Wellington's Arms for a drink
And no one at all was about on the street
When a Peke and a Pollicle happened to meet
They did not advance or exactly retreat
But they glared at each other and scraped their hind feet
And they started to
Bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark
Until you could hear them all over the park
And they
Bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark
Until you could hear them all over the park.
Now the Peke although people may say what they please
Is no british dog but Heathen Chinese
And so all the Pekes when they heard the uproar
Some came to the window, some came to the door
And together they started to grumble and wheeze
In their huffery-snuffery Heathen Chinese
But a terrible din is what Pollicles like
For your Pollicle dog is a dour Yorkshire tyke
There are dogs out of every nation
the Irish, the Welsh and the Dane:
The Russian, the Dutch, the Dalmatian,
and even from China and Spain.
The Poodle, the Pom, the Alsatian
And the Mastiff who walks on a chain.
And to those that are frisky and frolical,
Let my meaning be perfectly plain:
That my name it is simply symbolical,
and you'd better not do it again!"
And his braw Scottish cousins are snappers and biters
And every dog-jack of them notable fighters
And so they stepped out with their pipers in order
Playing "When the Blue Bonnets Come Over The Border"
And the Pugs and the Poms held no longer aloof
But some from the balcony some from the roof
Joined into the din with a
Bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark
Until you could hear them all over the park
Huffery snuffery huffery snuff!
Until you could hear them all over the park
BARK BARK BARK BARK (x 100)
NO!!!!
(Silence)
When these bold hereos together assembled
The traffic all stopped
And the Underground trembled
And some of the people were so much afraid
That they started to ring up the Fire Brigade!
When suddenly up from a small basement flat
Why who should stalk out but the Great Rumpus Cat!!!!
His eyes were like fireballs fearfully blazing
He gave a great yawn and his jaws were amazing
And when he looked out through the bars of the area
You never saw anything fiercer....
...Or hairier
And what with a glare of his eyes and his yawning
The Pekes and the Pollicles quickly took warning
He looked to the sky and he gave a great leap
And every last one of them scattered like sheep!
And when the Police dog returned to his beat
There wasn't a single one left on the street!
All hail and all bow to the Great Rumpus Cat!!!!

The greatest magicians have something to learn From Mister Mistoffelees' Conjuring Turn Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer were a notorious couple of cats As knockabout clowns, quick - change comedians Tight - rope walkers and acrobats They had an extensive reputation, made their home in Victoria Grove That was merely their center of operation for they were incurably given to rove If the area window was found ajar and the basement looked like a field of war If a tile or two came loose on the roof which presently ceased to be waterproof If the drawers were pulled out from the bedroom chests And you couldn't find one of your winter vests Or after supper one of the girls suddenly missed her Woolworth pearls Then the family would say, "It's that horrible cat! It was Mungojerrie or Rumpelteazer!" And most of the time they left it at that Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer had an unusual gift of the gab They were highly efficient cat burglars as well and remarkably smart at a smash and grab They made their home in Victoria Grove, they had no regular occupation They were plausible fellows who liked to engage a friendly policeman in conversation When the family assembled for Sunday dinner Their minds made up that they wouldn't get thinner on Argentine joint, potatoes and greens Then the cook would appear from behind the scenes And say in a voice that was broken with sorrow "I'm afraid you must wait and have dinner tomorrow The joint has gone from the oven like that!" Then the family would say, "It's that horrible cat! It was Mungojerrie or Rumpelteazer!" And most of the time they left it at that Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer had a wonderful way of working together And some of the time you would say it was luck and some of the time you would say it was weather They'd go through the house like a hurricane and no sober person could take his oath Was it Mungojerrie or Rumpelteazer? Or could you have sworn that it might have been both? When you heard a dining room smash or up from the pantry there came a loud crash Or down from the library came a loud ping From a vase which was commonly said to be Ming Then the family would say: "Now which was which cat? It was Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer and there's nothing at all to be done about that" Bustopher Jones is not skin and bones-- In fact, he's remarkably fat. He doesn't haunt pubs--he has eight or nine clubs, For he's the St. James's Street Cat! He's the Cat we all greet as he walks down the street In his coat of fastidious black: No commonplace mousers have such well-cut trousers Or such an impreccable back. In the whole of St. James's the smartest of names is The name of this Brummell of Cats; And we're all of us proud to be nodded or bowed to By Bustopher Jones in white spats! His visits are occasional to the Senior Educational And it is against the rules For any one Cat to belong both to that And the Joint Superior Schools. For a similar reason, when game is in season He is found, not at Fox's, but Blimpy's; He is frequently seen at the gay Stage and Screen Which is famous for winkles and shrimps. In the season of venison he gives his ben'son To the Pothunter's succulent bones; And just before noon's not a moment too soon To drop in for a drink at the Drones. When he's seen in a hurry there's probably curry At the Siamese--or at the Glutton; If he looks full of gloom then he's lunched at the Tomb On cabbage, rice pudding and mutton. So, much in this way, passes Bustopher's day- At one club or another he's found. It can be no surprise that under our eyes He has grown unmistakably round. He's a twenty-five pounder, or I am a bounder, And he's putting on weight every day: But he's so well preserved because he's observed All his life a routine, so he'll say. Or, to put it in rhyme: "I shall last out my time" Is the word of this stoutest of Cats. It must and it shall be Spring in Pall Mall While Bustopher Jones wears white spats!

CATS!

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The Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat:

If you offer him pheasant he would rather have grouse.

If you put him in a house he would much prefer a flat,

If you put him in a flat then he'd rather have a house.

If you set him on a mouse then he only wants a rat,

If you set him on a rat then he'd rather chase a mouse.

T.S. Elliot

All of the cat pix that once appeared below (that Goddess M. sent) disappeared into outer space.... Where is the litter-box? Returning the digested parts sorta promptly to her bold feline majesty, Goddess Miss M.S.,... a commanding wish requested by email ("this fits you")....