Good morning.
Here's a very unusual thing that Rob evidently bought in that very Catholic country called the Philippines.
It appears on his latest post. He also wrote a warning to brothers.
""Anyone who is angry with his brother will answer for it in the court, if a man calls his brother "fool" he will answer for it in the Sanhedrin; and if a man calls him "Renegade" he will answer for it in hell fire"....Jesus the Christ Mat 5:20-26"For those of you who were wondering, like me, the Sanhedrin was a big Jewish council thing.
Well, Rob is a bit of a renegade (a person who deserts or betrays a set of principles) for buying a little wooden man with a huge wooden cock! Oops, I'll be answering for that in Hellfire! At least I'll be warm. It's freezing in the Nui this morning.
Day number 161 of 2026. I only got half an hour's practice done yesterday. That means that I need to practise for at least one and a half hours today. I'd better get about half an hour done on the bass. I've been a bit slack on bass practice over the last few days. I wonder if you can practise musical instruments in Hell? The fire would be a bit of a danger for wooden instruments. Also, you wouldn't want to be caught playing the tritone. That interval belongs to Satan.
I hope that Peter is being careful to keep his car locked now and is not leaving keys in it. Maybe he should have left his racoon hat in the car?
Anyway, it's good that he got his locks sorted out.
I'll leave you there for this morning.
Ciao tutti e ci rivedremo in molti all'inferno.
Oh, and thanks to Peter for returning this. *
27 commenti:
Mmm. It seems that the Prowse brothers have an obsession with penises.
Robert blamed L's fish for the delay at NZ Customs but I'm thinking that they were checking out his little wooden man with the funny shaped dick.
Ha ha
My, it's quiet around the blogs today!
Internet problems.
No, just busy.
I read that a famous violinist, I think it was Itzhak Perlman, said that there is no point practising more than 4 hours. It does no extra good.
I did refrain from buying a key ring with a wooden penis attached. Maybe its a cultural thing and they are not so hung up about male anatomy.
Maybe the penis thing is a Catholic thing? Priests and Marist Brothers certainly seem interested in them.
Most people practising violin get nowhere near four hours a day.
Though, I did do two hours on my guitar today.
No new blog here.
No, it's still Richard's Bass Bag.*
* the original bass bagging site
You say that like it’s a good thing.
Will you please write a few more posts so that, when (if) I look at your blog the first thing I see wont be a litlle fat man bloody wooden erection.
Sheesh!
'Little'.
But it's not little.
God obviously meant men to have big wooden cocks. That's how Father Woodcock came about.
Beware of splinters.
A new post is on its way,
But may not happen today.
Though inside I could stay,
It is cold and the sky is grey.
Although cold is not measured by the gram,
It's possible I might go to an old time jam.
Although the music might be from the gutter,
I could always eat some peanut butter.
I note that your poem references spreads
Sandwich ones not the ones on beds
With all that jam and peanut butter
One must conclude that you’re a nutter.
Sandwich spreads are OK for lunch I hear
But music jams I have a hunch, can end in tears
Perhaps it might be safer
To stay at home on the sofa.
Wine Guy prefers his darts
He prefers to drink chilled red.
He hits the board and farts
Then finishes his wine in bed.
A weird guy is TC
He thinks he's quite PC.
He hit himself in the mouth at tennis
And spent the rest of the day at the dentist.
Sheesh!
A weird guy called Rob
Bought a man with a big wooden knob.
Pete has seen things that are stronger,
Hey, his golf putter is also much longer.
William McGonnagal, if he was alive, would be worried that his reputation as the world's worst poet was under threat going by your jottings.
Jealousy?
You're nearly right. Just take the 'jea' off and you get a description of your poetry.
Curmudgeon - Cur - geon = mud
You wouldn't want to drop your phone into that!
3G in 1966 are calling. They want their wit back.
I guess that your roses are doing ok.
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