Microfiction Monday. November 29th.

A picture prompt from Stony River via Granny Sue provokes an Hellenic confrontation . . .

"Calm down, your Majesty!  We’re not rustling them. We're filming the Greek Myths. I’m Zeus. She's Europa. She seeking your randiest bull!"

(Squeaking home with 139 characters!)

Monday's Child#23

The picture prompt this week is a happy domestic scene.

WARNING TO PARENTS.

Christmas is coming and things are looking good.

I'm helping Auntie Flo to stir the pud.

She's thrown a two-pound coin into the mix.

That bit of pud will be like chewing bricks.

Wait! Two pound's just about the sum I need.

Two pounds will buy some strong Moroccan Weed.

So when my Mummy says "Darling, select a

present," I'll ask for a metal detector.

By Christmas Pud time all the guests are drunk.

Chance to pop out for my Moroccan Skunk.

Have to ignore my dear old Grandad's lecture -

"Child! MUST you serve pud with your new detector . .  ?"

One sticky two-pound coin tucked in my purse.

My Christmas family are all the worse

for wear and many glasses of their cheap white wine.
I'll smoke my stash of hash this Christmastime!

Monday's Child#22

More Children's Verse from this picture prompt


St.George II: The Dragon's Revenge.

"Go forth, Sir Dragon. Hunt my husband George.
The way he leaves me here will never forge
a lasting marriage. I have had enough!
So, when you find him, treat my St.George rough!
He's always out crusading, never home.
Horsing around in breastplate and tin dome
looking, he says, for Dragons snorting fire,
but I suspect that really his desire
is Damsels. Blonde. Big-chested. In distress,
especially if wearing skimpy dress.
He hoists them to the saddle of his horse
and gallops off into the woods to force
his knavish will upon them, poor wee things.
Devils on Horseback nothing have on him.
He thinks I trust him. He must think I'm dim.
So, Dragon, check your fuel tank and wings.
Take to the air! Ignite your flaming breath
and toast my Faithless Patron. Not to death -
wait, why not? No. Death is far too cruel,
besides, it is a dreadful waste of fuel.
Sweat him in his tin suit and haul him hence.
I'll hose him down and hope he'll learn some sense,
and you, my Fiery Friend, have no more hassle,
but PLEASE, do not set fire to our castle."

The "Technological Fix" fixed!

The "Guardian"of Saturday, 20th. November 2010, "Review" section has a review of "Chasing the Sun: The Epic Story of the Star that Gives Us Life."  Very interesting, and straight onto FTSE's Christmas Wish List. But the single most fascinating observation in the book  . .  thermonuclear reactions in the Sun build the heavy elements out of hydrogen and helium. And it is estimated that these processes have produced ENOUGH GOLD IN THE SUN TO COVER THE WHOLE OF SCOTLAND TO A DEPTH OF HALF A MILE!  (There's gold in them thar sunbeams!)

Now . .  that's one helluva pile of the precious yellow metal, or as the lovely Jinksy says "Heavens to Murgatroyd!"  But it raises interesting issues for debate and further research.  Such as: -

1.  Is this huge dollop of bounty recoverable? And if so, how?

2.  Does the Rand Corporation know about it? And what d'you think they'll do about it?

3. What would trans-shipping this supertonnage home to it's rightful resting place (Fort Knox, the Bank of England) do to Gold Prices on world markets? 

4. Horror upon Horror!  What if the Fiendish Chinese get to the Treasures of Helios first! (Better bomb them back into their Ming vases, just to be on the safe side.)

The Technical Problems are summarised here: -

The first, essential stage is to cool the Sun down to a temperature comfortable for deep mining.  Then you need to chip away at the ponderous mass of the Sun until what's left isn't so heavy that its gravity flattens the miners into bits about the size and shape of Krugerrands or gold sovereigns. Reducing the Sun to the same mass as the Earth will be no small task and YOU COULD LOSE A LOT OF THE GOLD IN THE PROCESS, which will not please the bean-counters in earthly banks and Stock Exchanges.
 There's no water on the Sun, so far as is known, but NASA tells us there's plenty on the Moon after all.  So we'll need a long pipeline to transport water for drinking, cooking, showering and flushing, from Moon to Sun. Oh . . almost forgot . .  for cooling the Sun as mentioned above.  And once you've solved the water supply problem growing food won't prove difficult. After all, it's SUNLIGHT that makes things grow, and there'll be plenty of sunlight right on the doorstep, so to speak, for growing sunflowers and so forth. Stop finding problems that don't really exist, you earthbound earthling defeatists. This is the Space Age, goddammit! No sense of adventure, that's your trouble.  Leave it to you lot, we'd still be living in caves.  Just think of what could be done with all the wealth! Our dream of colonising the Universe would be several trillion trillion dollars nearer fulfilment.

The Rand Corporation will benefit from the mullions of bullion, of course, and I'm sure they are smart enough to fandingle World Government's into financing the necessay technological and start-up expenses, so their shareholders won't suffer.

But FTSE has a much simpler solution.  Simply WAIT!  In (about) 4.5 billion years, the Sun will expand until it is . . . so to speak . . . within touching distance!  Then simply take your bucket and spade . . . and help yourself.

Who needs gold anyway?

Magpie Tales#41

I hope this little limerick relates at least vaguely to Willow's picture prompt on Magpie Tales

Time Out.

A half-wit show jumper called Jock
had to "jump-off" one day in Bankok.
but he misunderstood
jumped as high as he could,
broke his half-witted neck,
his poor mount was a wreck
and he badly disfigured the clock.

(For the benefit of any bloggers and/or half-wits who are puzzled by this ditty, "jump-offs" in horsey events are timed. i.e. the contestants and their nags are jumping "against the clock" - fastest faultless round wins.  Jock didn't quite get the point. But I hope yous all do now!)

For the "Google Friends Connect" challenged

Lots of folk are complaining via Google Help etc that they can't persuade Google Friend Connect to change their logged in identity when they run 2 (or more) blogs under different log-in names and want to "Follow" blogs under one or other of their names.

Problem . .  when they click the Friend Connect logo (usually found above the array of Follower thumbnails) and ask to "sign in as a different user" they persistently encounter an error message. This has been going on for months, maybe years, and Google/Blogger seem deaf to folks' pleas for help - not unusual!

 Here's a work-around.

Note - assumes your eMail and Blogger accounts are both GOOGLE.

Follow these steps carefully.
1. Go to a blog that you are ALREADY following under your NAME 1.
2. Click "Sign in" under the array of Followers' thumbnails.
3. A window will appear saying "You've previously signed in . . . "etc.
4. IGNORE the "Sign in with Google" link
5  INSTEAD, Click the GOOGLE LOGO at mid-screen. (It's alongside the Twitter etc logos)
6. This will show you your signed in name (NAME 1) and yet another invitation to enter your NAME 1 password.
7. IGNORE THIS!  Instead, Click "Sign in as a different user" underneath it.
8. This puts up a NEW sign in window with BLANK username and password fields.
9. Enter your NAME 2, and your NAME 2 password.
10. Things are then OK for me!  I can now use Google Friend Connect to "Follow" under my NAME 2.  Hope it works for you.

Best wishes to all hair-tearers! 

Monday's Child#21

Another offering quite at variance with  the spirit of the prompt
in this charming picture -

Sing a Song of Six Pence, a pocketful of rye.
Lots of tasty pumpkin baked in my pie.
Now the oven's empty, the turkey's looking scared.
Chase him round the backyard . .
and roast that b**t**d bird!

Monday's Child#20

It really is time I took a shot at this prompt with a difference, based on the picture . . .

Nemesis

Mrs. Mouse cries "It's a sin!

The pest-controller's coming in!"

Mrs. Rat replied "Oh, Quelle disgrace.

We'll need to find a hiding-place.

Warfarin raises my fears!

Pull your hat over your ears.

If we can't see out

He can't see in . . . "

But of course he spied their pretty hats

and a thingy like a cricket bat . . .

Very Sorry, Kiddies . . .  FIN!

Magpie Tales#40

Ye Gods!

Hanuman, tough as a butcher's dog -
Half man, half ape, half prince, half frog!
Famous for deeds of derring-do -
whole hills he hauls back home to you.(*)
He'll bring you Oriental spices,
to cure all ills, how very nices!
Cursed by the Gods and cursed at length,
Hanuman knows not his own strength.
Bolder than Hercules, and faster
he'll save you from the worst disaster.
Outsupermanning Superman
there is no enemy that he can-
-not overcome.  His bulging muscles
see him through the toughest tussles
with tigers, elephants and snakes,
fights the good fight for all our sakes.
When pressed he can face north and south
and east and west, grow four new mouths
to blow out five benighted lamps
and so free buddies from a deep, damp
pit. Half man, half frog, half ape, half prince-
Hanuman! Tough as Tesco mince,
immortalised in bloggers' verse . . .
(with this amongst the very worst!)


(*) The Hindu god Hanuman, shown in Willow's prompt here, accomplished many heroic exploits which you can read about by following the links here

Magpie Tales#39

Willlow's wonderful prompt this week puts an Evil Eye on all her poets!

A POULTERER LAMENTS


I once had a rooster called Ben,
but I believed Ben was a hen.
An easy mistake
any poet could make
whilst seeking the sex
and avoiding the pecks
from his beak and his claw
in the hen gender war . .
I don't think I'll try it again.