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Showing posts from April, 2018

Sundays

There was a time when I waited for Sunday. After a week of work, and I worked hard, a day of rest  was very welcome. I loved to sleep.  I am not an atheist, and I go to church maybe once a year for  midnight mass on Christmas eve. So I'm not a churchgoer basically. Therefore Sundays did not mean  that I was seated in the pews in church listening to the pastor's sermon.  The pastor, in fact,  would not recognise me until my sister, who goes more often to church, introduced me as her brother  after Christmas Eve mass. I also had a problem sleeping and would lie awake at nights trying desperately trying to fall asleep. I tried counting sheep and it never worked. I also tried those sleeping videos on YouTube. I listened  \ and felt bored. They were not music I was familiar with and they kept my eyelids firmly apart. Even a safe  tranquillizer that my doctor prescribed did not have any effect. The only thing to do then was to switch on

Dogmatic versus Catatonic

A friend once asked me if I was catatonic. I knew for certain that I was not dogmatic.  In 'dogmatic' you realise there is  ' matic '  something like automatic. Auto slobbering, auto barking and more. But with 'catatonic' you see that 'tonic is part of the ball game. You don't get dogmatic slobbering. The tonic part of the cat is very pleasing. It might chew up your socks. You should have changed the smelly things many months ago anyway. Just don't blame the cat, it is just trying to keep the air at home fresh. The cat has knowledge of where its favourite food is and will try to nick it. It points to the intelligent and the efficient burglar. There are cat burglars you know; a thief who enters a building by climbing to an upper storey, an act learnt from a cat. That's what cats do in innocence, but the cat is not a burglar. A cat is a killer looking for innocent birds. But they leave the two-legged ones alone or even win their affec

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Ambition

“Do you have any ambition?” asked my friend the politician. “No, it’s not within my ambit,” I replied shaking my head. “Ant bite?” he asked puzzled, “where did it bite you?” “It’s not within an ant’s ambit,” I said stiffly, “to be able to get away after sucking on my hoard of lollipops.” “Are you any wis er for being such a miser?” he questioned. “I’m not a miser, black marketeer or a racketeer,” I protested. “You mean none of the above,” the politician asked disparagingly, “That means you suck on your big toe to make ends meet.” “I can see a lollipop end to end,” I replied. “You mean the end justifies the means?” he asked. “I believe in happy endings for lollipops,” I said. “Are you herbivorous?” he asked suspiciously. “That’s an asinine thing to say,” I protested. “Are you calling me an ass?” the politician demanded. “Not if you chew the cud,” I replied. “Are you calling me a cow?” he asked ann oyed. “Not if you take the b

Sundays

There was a time when I waited for Sunday. After a week of work, and I worked hard, a day of rest  was very welcome. I loved to sleep.  I am not an atheist, and I go to church maybe once a year for  midnight mass on Christmas eve. So I'm not a churchgoer basically. Therefore Sundays did not mean  that I was seated in the pews in church listening to the pastor's sermon.  The pastor, in fact,  would not recognise me until my sister, who goes more often to church, introduced me as her brother  after Christmas Eve mass. I also had a problem sleeping and would lie awake at nights trying desperately trying to fall asleep. I tried counting sheep and it never worked. I also tried those sleeping videos on YouTube. I listened  \ and felt bored. They were not music I was familiar with and they kept my eyelids firmly apart. Even a safe  tranquillizer that my doctor prescribed did not have any effect. The only thing to do then was to switch on

The Lunatic

“Are you looping the loop again?” I asked the neighborhood lunatic. “Yes, it’s hard work,” he said wiping his brow after climbing down the lamp post for the eighteenth time. “What do you see up there?” I asked him. “I ensure that the lamp posts are going out on regular dates,” he said. “Do they go out? They can’t be of much use at night then,” I remarked. “No, no,” the lunatic corrected me, “they go out dating.” “Lamp posts go out dating!” I exclaimed. “They all have their secret love lives,” the nut said nodding his head, “they can’t always be like the young cad who stood on the burning deck.” “Do lamp posts burn the candle at both ends?” I asked eagerly. “When the bulbs kick the bucket, they have to get candles from the grocers at a premium,” the fellow said, “the grocers make a quick buck  when the lamp posts are fumbling about in the dark looking for loose change.” “You can spare some loose change for the lamp posts,” I suggested. “I ca