TMO needed for blogging community?

 What is a TMO?

Well, in rugby it is a wanker guy sitting in front of a TV screen who analyses every little thing in a game.

For example, if a forward breaks wind in a scrum, the TMO will probably pick it up a little later and interrupt the game to have the farter red carded.

The referee becomes a bit like the pope, god's representative on earth.

The referee - god can override
his decisions.

Okay, okay, I might be depressing you after the AB's loss. Here are a couple of pictures to cheer you up.

Well, I hope that cheered you up. I'm off for a walk with my two flat mates, then I'll get some practice done.

Ciao tutti.

It certainly is a strange old world.

 I read a news item last night about a poor little nearly two year old who died in Lower Hutt. Very sad. The boy was named Ruthless-Empire.

Now please be assured that I have absolutely no intention of making light of this tragic situation. My question is how could a parent (or parents) inflict such a name on a child. Please don't tell me it is some sort of cultural thing.

One thing strikes me - this strange old world is not getting a lot right.

Look at the Israel / Hamas war. There are evidently one million Palestinians trapped in the war zone with food and water very hard to come by. Who will gain out of this conflict? Both sides worship a similar type of god. Obviously gods do not bring peace or try to help out.

We've also got the question, "Why did Russia need to invade Ukraine?"

Okay, okay, I know I'm treading a well worn path here. I could also mention our gang problems and the violence that seems to be happening in our own backyard.

Maybe I need to find something happy to write about.

* * *

Let's see what the (old) boys are writing about.

For anyone who is new around here, there are two bloggers who are regular readers of this great literary site we call Richard's Bass Bag.*

One writes under the name of The Curmudgeon, but his real name is Peter.

Peter likes nothing more than a good series. When he writes a series, he chooses a topic like one of these...

• Walking in the hills.
• Windows in my house.
• Planting my garden.
• Booze I have drunk.
• A revisit to windows in my house.
• Minor storms that have happened near my house.

The other blogger is called Robert, a guy who likes to dress up.

He also likes playing the violin and making videos.

Robert's last post was on Labour Day. From memory I think Robert is a Presbyterian and he posts a lot about god things. Okay, okay, he might actually be a Catholic.

Here are some examples of his topics...

• Abortion.
• Tent Horn.
• The Blessed Trinity (not to be confused with the movie 'They Call Me Trinity').
• Abortion.
• Parables.
• House cleaning.
• Cleaning a Presbyterian church and finding fault.
• Abortion.
• Mary, the mother of Jesus.
• Crazy lady saints.

Well, there you go. If you're silly enough to want to visit these sites, you'll find them on our LINKS service list.

Ciao tutti.

* the original bass bagging site

One silly thing quite a few All Blacks do.

 

I'm talking about pointing up to the clouds after scoring a try. A few of our Pasifika players do this. I think that the above cartoon explains why this gesture is silly.

Enough said.

Hey, here's another interesting thing that I came across.

I thought that Katha really nails this one. You can read about Katha HERE.

Well, It's Tuesday but it's like a Monday because yesterday was a holiday (for some). Today is a holiday for me too* because I'm not required at work. Tomorrow I work and will continue to work on a Wednesday because that's the day I teach violin. However, my relieving work should finish very soon because the senior students finish up at the end of this week. That will give me more time to get jobs done around the house and to get in some serious violin and double bass practice. I also need to put more work into my Italian.

My Italian friend Antonio is coming to stay over the Christmas period. That'll be fun. Here's a 'wise saying' in Italian.

Well, I'll leave it there for today.

Ciao tutti.

* Every day is a holiday for Peter.

IHANIWTWAT! (a post with no pictures)

 I have absolutely no idea what to write about today!

I see that Robert has already covered Labour Day or, at least, he's praying about it.

I know, maybe I could write a parable?

Let's see...

The origin of morality.

Some people think that morality comes from an instruction from some sort of god. Let's make up a god to show you how people think it works.

Booljit gave man a book with only twenty one pages. The wise man Damars was among the first to read it. The book had a title, "Live Like This If You Want To Avoid A Very Long Time In A Very, Very Cold Place After You Die."

Page one pronounced a set of rules that Booljit considered esential.

"You must love me and worship me. I have set out twenty things that will make you morally good and will get you into a good place when you die. I call that place Linford."

Each page listed, and then explained, one of the twenty morals.

Here are the twenty titles.

1. You must put your god Booljit above all other things.

2. Except for in a war, don't kill other people.

3. I will set up a church. You must belong to this institution.

4. Honour your superiors.

5. If you are a bottom feeder, always tell the truth.

6. Monday must be observed as a holy day.

7. On Monday you must come to my church.

8. Be kind to all people who are not too different from yourself.

9. Don't make moral judgements without consulting this book.

10. Say 'no' to abortion under any circumstances.

11. If you are playing sport, you must acknowledge me when you score.

12. Generally speaking, don't steal.

13. Warn people when you think they may be going to Freezing Place.

14. Remember that I am the one true god and don't show any interest in other ones.

15. If you are a man and you have a wife, you are in charge.

16. Women must always listen to their husband.

17. When cars are invented, get a huge one and keep the distance from other cars small.

18. Take every opportunity to promote this book because it is the word of your god.

19. If you want to pray to me, use my 'answer phone' system.

20. Remember that I am Booljit!

Damars became Booljit's main voice on this planet. He became Booljit's first dope. Dope Damars I.

* * *

Okay, okay, I'm supposed to be writing a parable. To be honest, I can't be bothered.

Look, morals ARE NOT set out by some superior entity. 

MORALS ARE BUILT ON COMMON SENSE.

They are ideas that make living good for as many people as possible. Unfortunately, there are many examples in the world where this is not happening - Ukraine and the Gaza strip are obvious examples of where the morality approach has been lost, but there are many more. I guess you just need to be aware of what effect your actions are having on others.

I'm off now.

Ciao tutti.

Go the All Blacks!

 It's semifinal time so I'll have to keep this brief.

Peter's briefs.

I think it could be a tough one, as both teams will be throwing everything they have into the mix.

Good luck ABs!

Ciao tutti.

Wednesday update.

 Okay, so here we are. It's Wednesday afternoon and it is sunny and feels warm and I've had a haircut.

Okay, okay, I know you all want an update on my grandson Harrison. Here he is with his grandma whom he is very fond of.

Harrison is eighteen days over six months old. He is already playing the double bass pretty bloody well! He has inspired me to practise even more than I have done lately.

"Time grandad, it's all about time! Get to work with that metronome."

At least, I think that's what he said. He is certainly a bright boy who knows about bass playing!

* * *

Israel vs Hamas.

What a sad state of affairs. 

Orthodox Judaism vs Salafism.

"Orthodox Jews believe in one God, and they adhere to the Ten Commandments and other associated laws of God from the Torah and Talmud. Jews believe in positive outcomes from choosing good deeds and lifestyle choices, and they also believe in retribution for bad deeds."

"Salafism is an Islamic reformist movement that emphasizes a restoration of Islamic piety and practice as was perceived to exist during the time of the Prophet Muhammad and his followers."

Well, it seems that big time killing of men, women, children and babies is on the agenda for both religions.

I would say, "God help us!" but it seems like He is behind it all.

I'll leave it there for today.

Ciao tutti.

It has been analyzed to death.

 I'm talking about the All Blacks meeting Ireland in the Rugby World Cup Quarter Final.

Oops, sorry. That's Portugal beating Fiji.

Well, once I was watching an All Blacks match on TV and Shelley asked, "Which ones are the All Blacks?" I lied and told her they were the team in red. She was happy.

Some people just don't care about rugby. I know Robert is not really a fan. Fair enough. It really is a lot of well paid young men chasing a ball. In the past I have been guilty of taking it too seriously and I still do enjoy watching a game. The reality though is that it won't be the end of the world if the All Blacks lose tomorrow.

The end of the world.

Actually, that's quite a popular saying these days, "It's not the end of the world."

Not many things are more serious than the end of the world.

Here's a list of things that are less important...

• Running out of double bass rosin.
• Being a bit low on toilet paper.
• Wetting your pants.
• Being late for a show.
• Missing mass.
• Losing a game of tennis or golf.
• Breaking a violin string.
• Losing a sock.
• Getting paint on your shirt.
• Finding that your car has a flat battery.
• Knocking over a cup of coffee.

I think you get the idea.

Well, I'm off soon to see my grandson.

He's a bit bigger than this now.

A bit bigger. He loves to grin. He's a happy little chap with two wonderful parents.

I'm sure he'll grin for grandad today. It's really neat being a grandad.

Ciao tutti.

Father banana gives a sermon.

 

Father Banana

"Hi, I'm Father Banana. I'm filling in for Father Orange because he's feeling a bit off colour this morning. I guess you could say he's looking a bit brown, but he is certainly not a bad apple.

Suppose one of you has a friend to whom you go at midnight and say,

'Friend, lend me three passionfruit, for a friend of mine has arrived at my house from a journey
and I have nothing to offer him,'
He replies, 'Do not bother me; the door has already been locked and my children and I are already in bed. I cannot get up to give you anything. Actually, you can pick a few apples off my apple tree if you want. Some are starting to fall, but they don't fall far from the tree.'

Okay, I know you wanted passionfruit but, think about it, the guy who arrived at your house is blind. Would he really spot the difference? He might notice the different texture, but it's worth a try.

This is called making the most of a bad situation. Jesus had to do the same thing when he finished up on a cross next to two criminals. Maybe they were the equivalent of today's gang members? Jesus probably thought it was safer to be nice to them. Records show that he told them his name was Sheesh. 

You see, Sheesh Jesus was playing it safe. 

He does the same thing with your prayers. I mean, a lot of people ask for silly shit.

'Can you make me beautiful?'

'I need a new car.'

'Can I have twenty bucks?'

Then he gets people who just bother him.

'Lord, please appear to me.'

'Jesus, be my special friend please.'

'Hey, I had bad thoughts the other night. Please forgive me.'

Can you imagine Jesus lying awake in Heaven because some people (probably quite a big bunch of them) are having bad thoughts? Think thoughts about bonking or wanking here.

Hey, He has wars to stop, diseases to wipe out. He hasn't got time to worry about people who are wanking. This is one reason why He never seems to get around to stopping wars or turning off cancer.

He does like to help Christian rugby players score tries because they give Him recognition by pointing up to Heaven. Remember, the Lord works in mysterious ways.

Well, that's it from me for today. Let's give the praying a bit of a break. Just point to Heaven if something good happens to you."

Father Orange gives a sermon.

 

Father Orange

'None of us are the property of the tree we came from. So, when a blossom turns into an orange, that orange is ripe for the picking. That succulent piece of fruit might finish up in a salad or be squeezed or eaten whole but, in two of those cases, it will need to be peeled. 
They say it is a picker's right to choose. Well once you pick that piece of fruit you have made the choice. Remember that it's an orange and not a banana.
Now this is something that for some may be painful to hear, there could be one or two people here who have a preference for, say, a pear.
I just want to remind you of the great love of the orange tree. The orange tree who got chopped down out of love for us, even praying for his tree fellers who sawed through his trunk. 'Main tree, forgive them for they know not what they do'.
So, the tree loves each one of us individually and all oranges are special. Happy forever. And I had to remind a banana of this one time.'

Dominus vobiscum.

 The lord be with you.

I was brought up as a Roman Catholic.

My mother was what you might call a bad Catholic. She had been brought up with the 'faith' around her but didn't really commit to it in a big way. My father was not a Catholic. My mother often made her boys go to church, but often didn't turn up herself. I have four brothers and only one still professes to belong to the faith. 

 Priests used to sometimes pop by our house and, for a while, I got drafted in to be an altar boy. I really did this to keep my mother happy. The priests tried to teach us a bit of Latin (the mass was presented in Latin then) but I truly doubt that any of our Irish priests really spoke the language. 

The true revelation started in the years 1964 and 1965. We had two Marist Brothers named Brother Leon and Brother Benedict. I was aged between 11 and 13 at the time and attending school at Marist Thorndon.

Brother Leon

Brother Benedict

During class both of these guys would come around and slip their hand up your short pants. They were obviously trying to feel your penis. This happened to many boys and, in an attempt to explain the actions of these men who had total power over us, it was treated by us as a bit of a joke. Hey, we were in a position of no power. Absolutely no power!

I tell you this because Robert (my still Catholic brother) is lecturing about abortion. (use my links service to check out his posts - it's titled Robert)

Hello!

I DO NOT TRUST ANYTHING THAT COMES FROM THIS FUCKED UP INSTITUTION!

Go and piss somewhere else Robert.

Ciao tutti.

Sunday is Funday!

 I suppose that, under the rules of rhyming, Monday is Funday too.

Monday gets a bad rap because it's the first day of the working week for a lot of people.

Not for Peter though!

I hope he uses Monday
to get a haircut!

Anyway, back to Sunday.

Actually, Sunday is not really that much of a fun day. For Robert there's church, and maybe a spell in the church shop. Then he's got the rosary to get through.

Shelley always spends Sunday morning reading the Sunday paper. I often do a blog post.

I usually listen to a bit of Italian and often I think about 3rd/7th chords on the violin.

I can hear Peter thinking, "Richard (of RBB) really knows how to have a good time!"

This afternoon Shelley and I are going to see a movie. Shelley likes a glass of wine, or two, before a movie. 

I look on it as having the blood
of Jesus Christ.

I generally skip the body bit, unless I have an ice cream. An ice cream is sort of like a host, except that someone else gets to make money out of it and not Peter.

Well, I'd better mosey along. 

Enjoy your fun Sunday.

Ciao tutti.

I blame modern technology.

 Lately I've been reading a lot of blog posts on my phone and commenting from that device. The reason for this is that I can sit on the couch in our warmest room.*

Unfortunately, mine and Shelley's phones are interlinked and we can't get them to operate separately. This means that, when I comment, it has to be as anonymous. I try to always add, "Richard (of RBB), but sometimes I forget.

For some reason Robert has changed his settings so that one cannot leave anonymous comments on his blog posts. This means that, unless I move down to the cold computer, I can no longer comment on his blog.

There you go.

* sometimes with un bicchiere di vino

Halftime 26 - 0

 That's the All Blacks vs Uruguay.

You don't get many countries with three of the letter 'u' in their name. 

I guess it's all about 'u'.

Ha, ha.

Peter will be watching, but he'll enjoy my little joke there.

Robert the forgiven will be at work.

I'm off to lunch in Wellington today with some old friends of my wife and daughter. I'm really a hanger on.

Shelley doesn't like driving in Wellington, so I got an invite.

I'll need to get some practice done before then. Both violin and double bass.

Just in case I ever get a gig again.

Back to the rugby.

Ciao tutti.

What?

Oh, you want a picture.

Okay then, but I'll have to find one quickly.

Kurt Funnygut says, "Go All Blacks!"

The saga of the three remaining goats.

 I posted recently a parable about a man with four goats who had two sons. Two regular fans of this blog, Peter and Robert the forgiven, became very curious about the fate of the remaining three goats.

I'm glad they took the parable seriously and it's good to see them concerned about the three remaining goats who escaped becoming goat burgers.

The father kept the other three goats.

The vegan son made it his mission to look after these three animals, despite having showed little interest initially. As I told you, he already had a cat.

Many people had liked the younger son's goat burgers and he saw a business opportunity. He planned to open a business called Goat Burger King. He asked his father if he could have the remaining three goats. His father was aware that the older boy had developed a friendship with the animals. He even took them to church. 

The three goats on their way to church.

Then, one Sunday, disaster struck. One of the goats ate a bible at church. Fr. Dr. Grunter O.B.E., the parish priest, was not impressed. He locked the bible eating goat in the confessional (on the priest's side). The elder boy took the other two home. A local man came to make a confession and was unaware that he was actually confessing to a goat.

The man asked, "What is my penance?"

The goat bleated, but it sounded pretty much like the grunts that Fr. Dr. Grunter O.B.E. often made when he gave out penances.

The man took it to mean that he should say five Hail Marys but, in fact, the man should have been saying six Our Fathers for the sins he had committed. Unfortunately, on his way out of the church, the man suffered a fatal heart attack. He went straight to Hell because he had not done the correct penance for his particular types of sins.

The only 'person' who could possibly have known about the man's fate was the goat. Unfortunately, he could not communicate with people. Maybe he could have grunted to Fr. Dr. Grunter O.B.E., but that probably didn't happen. 

Eventually the priest gave the goat back to the older son and told him not to bring the goats to church again. 

The boy started taking the goats to a Presbyterian church where they were more appreciated. The elder boy grew up to become a vicar. The younger boy never got his goat burger venture off the ground and later went into the wine business. He became a bit of a wine bore.

Okay, I hear you say, "But what happened to the three goats?"

I want you to close your eyes and use your imagination. Did they go into show biz? Did they form a violin trio? Did they finish up on a plate? Did they become police goats?

Use your imagination but don't bother me with your ideas.

Richard (of RBB) forgiveth and Richard (of RBB) taketh away.

 Robert came to confession by leaving a comment claiming innocence and his sins against RBB have been forgiven.

You see, I am the just and forgiving blogger.

Just like in this story.

Richard (of RBB) said,

"A man had four goats.

He gave one to his elder son.

The son told him he was vegan and, anyway, already had a cat for a pet.

The man offered the same goat to his younger son.

The younger son took it and made several goat burgers.

He gave a couple to his father.

Which boy was right?"

A group of bloggers said that it was the elder boy.

Richard (of RBB) explained that tax collectors and prostitutes made better musicians than them.

He then went off and did some practice on his double bass.

Ciao tutti.

96 - 17.

 Hey, that's a very, very good rugby win, in anyone's book!

Okay, I feel sorry for Gli Azzurri, who actually thought they had a good chance of winning, but the score says it all.

It was a super hiding!

As I read news clips about the game, I noticed that many of them were quite negative about the All Blacks.

I mean, they won by 79 points! Remember that the French beat these guys (Gli Azzurri) by 4 points last time they played each other.

What more could the All Blacks have done in this game?

Come on, let's give a little bit of credit where credit is due!

I can see no other way that the ABs could have performed better.

96 - 17 speaks for itself.

Well done boys.