The Kiffness - Eating the Cats ft. Donald Trump (Debate Remix)

Kiffness has done some brilliant things, and one of his songs actually makes me cry (every time), but this one was downright therapeutic. The split-screen is especially effective - and hilarious. I try so hard to get away from all this shytte, and of course I can't! There is such a long way to go before the vote, and I keep wondering how much lower he can go. But at least we can mock him, and brace ourselves for the next bout of lunacy/lies.

I don't even know where to begin.

 

This is all I have to say today. I feel ground up. I suppose it's my fault for getting involved in the ugliness that can go on on the internet. It's inexcusable, but trying to protest it means you're clapped down even harder. I don't care any more, I've said what I needed to say and there's no point going on and on about it. The woman is still being blamed for being, I think, mentally slow. They blather on and on about autism, then do this to someone who may well be, or at least has some serious memory and speech problems. 

It's not worth it to get so upset, I suppose, but it's been a bad couple of weeks for me, with that lousy treatment at the hair salon, channel views at an all-time low (and nothing I can do about it), pain that seems intractable, having to do physio which I know is useless or even damaging, no birds in the back yard because of bears (can't put anything up for another 2 1/2 months at least), totally unwarranted, repeated accusations of hate speech which are likely shutting me down or shadowbanning me, Crystal abandoning and abusing the family for NO reason, and on and on. 

I know adversity comes in droves, and brings its friends. It's like that. But I feel run over. I need to stay AWAY from these things, as there are always going to be people who defend abusers. Look at the Trumpers. I can't even describe what goes on there. Anyway, I have to get out of here for a while. 

We at least saw HORDES of ducks and geese yesterday at the duck park, which means they weren't gone, just gone elsewhere for a while. There were maybe 200 geese, spread out in several flocks all over the park, but also a ton of ducks roosting on logs on the other side of the lake. The lagoon needs to refill - it's a mud flat now, though it used to attract even more species than Burnaby Lake. We even saw wild swans!

The ultimate irony here is that *I* am being accused of hate speech over and over again, while this asshole pounded the shit out of a vulnerable older woman for 90 minutes while everyone watched and did nothing. Now people are defending the attacker! Trumpism at at its worst. Cultish behaviour. Wow.

We're going to go return a brand new toaster which turned out to be defective. It seems everything is buggering up now, big and small. But no more internet fiascos. If it was ever fun, it's horrible now, and lots of people think  the prolonged, obscenity-ridden verbal attack was warranted and even OK. 

What is WRONG with people?? I will never figure it out. Sometimes they are simply evil, but evil wears many disguises. It's in the Bible, and everywhere else. I guess I had warnings, but it was nice to be acknowledged for a while and follow something that was sometimes fun and entertaining, until it wasn't. 

A rotten thing happened to me at the hair salon (so I wrote this)

 (I wrote this after a miserable experience at a salon my husband and I have been going to for more than two years. The treatment was rude, insulting, and implied we were crooked and trying to cheat them. It was the other way around, but never mind. I have to get these things down on paper so I can cope with them. I will look for a new salon, and I plan to give them this statement as soon as I find one.)

I wish to report on the disrespectful way I was treated at my last appointment. Bill and I have been loyal customers for over 2 years, and so far we have always appreciated the quality of the service and the friendly and professional staff.

 In June, when paying for my cut, I mistakenly entered a $45.00 tip in the debit machine.  Though I asked for it, the owner would not give me cash back, but instead wrote out a card for a $40.00 store credit to cover my next haircut. He signed it and dated it, and I also kept the receipt for $85.00, which is what we had to pay for the cut. 

Since we are pensioners and have to count every penny we spend, this unexpected charge was a hardship for us and put us over our budget for the month, but at least I had the store credit for my next cut. I kept the card and the receipt for the $85.00 charge in my purse from June until September.

When I presented the card/receipt to get my cut in September, I was told by the owner that my husband had already used up the store credit! I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Bill did not use the card and was not even in the salon during that time period, and the time before that he used the debit machine.

If he HAD used up the store credit, which he did not, I am sure he would have had to present both the card and the receipt for $85.00 (in my purse – he never touched it), which I assume the salon would need for their records. I don’t believe any business would honor a store credit without any documented proof. And even if it happened, which it did not, I would still have a credit of $18.00 left on the card, due to the difference between the price of our cuts (his was $22.00 and mine was $40.00). To completely use up the credit, which is what he was accused of, he would have had to defraud you TWICE. He only gets a cut every 3 months or so, so we would be looking at a 6 month period! This makes no sense whatsoever.

It would not even occur to my husband (or myself) to cheat anyone. It was an insult to both of us.  I sat there confused and embarrassed while the owner, who was very brusque and rude and would not even look at me, kept saying he “remembered it” (Bill using up the credit) and told me repeatedly I should “ask him about it”. He obviously doubted our honesty and integrity, not just mine but my husband’s, and this has never happened to us before with ANY business. It didn’t even make any logical sense. If anyone was being deceived and defrauded, it was us.

I realize that none of this was the fault of the stylists who were just doing their jobs, but this was embarrassing and demeaning treatment and was done in such a rude, abrupt way (in front of other customers) that it felt like an insult. When I told Bill about it, he was extremely upset and angry, and he had a right to be. You were literally accusing him of dishonesty, not once but TWICE! Or perhaps it was me you were accusing? In truth, you owed me the $40.00 credit, when you were claiming we owed it to you.

Customer service and respect for your clients should be the top priority of any business, but this was a dreadful experience and I walked away feeling terrible. I also believe it embarrassed the staff, who were completely blameless and just doing their jobs. It was done in a rude, dismissive way, without even discussing it with me. I left reviews on several websites outlining exactly what happened to me, which I have a perfect right to do. It is simply reporting, and a public service which I hope will be a warning to others. The money is not the issue -  it is our honesty and integrity. These should NEVER have been in question unless there was actual proof we had cheated you, and you had absolutely none.

Much as I loved this salon and was always pleased with the service, I will not be returning. I am taking my business elsewhere. I do not wish to encounter this man ever again, who no doubt would treat me in the same dismissive and disrespectful way and refuse to believe he was wrong. I hope my reviews stand as a warning to potential clients who may think twice about risking such shamefully bad treatment.

 

🎵TRUMP DANCE PARTY!!🎵

About all I can do to cope with the whole Trump mess is turn it into cartoons. It's fun, until I see another video where he blathers on incoherently to WILD applause. The less sense he makes, the louder and more strident their cheers. Reminds me of the guy with the moustache, who was cheered whatever he said, the more demented the better.  

I've given up on views, honestly I have, though I'm still posting nearly every day just because I enjoy actually making content. I think my time of decent views is permanently over, and that makes no sense to me either. But here we are. After thirteen years of loving effort, it's basically over. My channel grew until it inexplicably died. I have no idea if YouTube really has turned off the tap, but I suspect it's true, as my subscriber count continues to rise steadily, and every day I get MANY comments and likes on my old ones. 

So there's that. 

The Bird Files: These Geese are NOT Good Canadians!!

Well, here I go again, once more against the flow again. I'm now getting barely 20 views on videos that used to get in the hundreds, and I refuse to believe the quality has plummeted, because I am STILL getting healthy views on the older ones of much lower quality. I am also still gaining subscribers steadily and am soon going to be up to 20,800+. Other channels I follow have a tiny fraction of that number and get thousands or tens of thousands of views. 

I have been harassed and persecuted relentlessly by YouTube for "hate speech", as well as "bullying and threats" (to MEGHAN MARKLE - ??). I still get a lot of very innocent comments taken down and find myself commenting in code. So if this gets no views, or five or whatever, I guess I will leave it up anyway. 

But I feel like I'm twisting in the wind. And I am, and it could get a lot worse, but as it is, I don't even want to look at my channel any more because I know it will be bad news and bring down my day. I keep telling myself, keep going, keep going, the algorithm is going to forgive you eventually, but it's the double whammy of the royal bullying and threats (totally ludicrous!) added to the Gypsy Rose "hate speech" that is doing this to me - along with that stupid "warning" thing that is on my record forever, though there was supposed to be a way out of it that was never posted.  

It's hard these days, and my first job is to keep up my mood and morale as well as I can, but it's just awful to see this, after years and years of careful tending and building. I haven't had decent views in half a year at least. Anyway, these geese were pretty amusing, and I think it's a great video, and I don't think anyone is going to watch it.  I can no longer share my passions with more than a tiny handful of people, and even that miniscule audience is shrinking away. 

UPDATE: this video got 9 views in 24 hours. My previous birdwatching videos got 50 - 100. I am so sick of trying to be positive, etc. while everything I've built over 13 years sinks in the swamp!

WHAT IS GOING ON?????????????

Death, Transfiguration, and the one person I can count on

Death and Transfiguration, by Richard Strauss. What I am listening to today. This piece has tremendous significance for me. It literally helped me survive the most difficult time in my life, when the earth seemed to be falling away from under my feet. This is the Hero’s Journey, through trials and travails and even outright horrors, but through it all there is dignity, courage and hope.

This music lifted me up and over the worst of the predator-infested swamp I was slogging through. They call it “mental illness”, but that isn’t the half of it. Someone who hasn’t experienced it has no idea. It would be so much more survivable if the culture weren’t so full of hypocrisy about it. People banter and chatter about “mental health”, and it really doesn’t mean anything at all except virtue-signalling. In the next breath, these same people will throw poison darts at the mentally ill, calling them “whack jobs” and “nut bars”, without one single twinge of conscience.

Why does this bother me so much? You hear it every day. It doesn’t mean anything, does it? It’s only words! But they are talking about ME, an actual, breathing, sensate being. Why don’t they see that? They don’t, and they won’t, not in my lifetime anyway, but I’ve decided I’m not waiting for it.

In spite of everything, and because of everything, I am still on the Hero’s Journey. I need to refill at this well over and over again, and once more it will lift me up when I can barely walk on my own. It has made me realize something. I am still here. Why? Because there has always been someone on my side. One who unfailingly was there, even when I was in the worst kind of dire trouble. Who was it who helped me get back on my feet when I was (once again) lying face-down on the ground, when everyone else had virtually given up on me?

It was, quite simply, me. Even when I felt completely alone, even when there was no one else in sight or even in my hopes, I had the most loyal helper I have ever had, and one that I will have until I draw my last breath: myself.

(I just posted this on Facebook, and even though it's going to go the way of everything else I ever write or post - total obscurity - something in me just won't quit, and THAT IS WHY I AM STILL HERE TODAY.)

This is the best thing I've ever seen! The BEST 'Bad' Music Videos

I rediscovered this gorgeous video just today. I've probably watched it 5 times, and it never gets old. 

The Fate of Eastern Airlines Flight 401 (Full Black Box Transcript)

 

I was kind of surprised to find myself feeling nostalgic while watching this video. Then I realized - AHA! I had already made a blog post about this doomed flight, featuring a complete transcript of the black box recording of the crew kerfuffling around with a burned-out light bulb as the plane went down.

The inepititude of these guys floors me: these are the kinds of pilots you DON'T want to have. Laurel and Hardy could have flown this plane better, I think. While the plane heads for doom, they're trying to fix the light with a pair of pliers and a kleenex. Unlike many of these catastrophic cases, there were survivors.

December 29, 1972
Everglades National Park, Florida
Eastern Air Lines, Flight 401
Lockheed L-1011 TriStar1
N310EA

The crew was preoccupied with a landing gear problem and was trying to replace the landing gear light while on autopilot and in a holding pattern. As the captain got up to help, he inadvertently pushed on the yoke releasing the autopilot. With no ground reference and
under nighttime conditions, the aircraft gradually descended until it crashed into the Everglades,18.7 miles west-northwest of Miami killing 100 out of 176 aboard. The failure of the crew to monitor the flight instruments during the final 4 minutes of flight, and to detect a descent
soon enough to prevent impact with the ground.

TWR = Tower
APP = Approach
CAM = Cockpit area mike
CAM 1 = Primarily Captain
CAM 2 = Primarily First Officer
Cam 3 = Primarily Flight Engineer
?? = unknown.
### = expletive
RT = Radio transmission



23.32:52

RT Miami Tower, do you read, Eastern 401? Just turned on final.

23.32:56

TWR Eastern 401 Heavy, continue approach to 9 left.

23.33:00

RT Continue approach, roger.

23.33:00

CAM 3 Continuous ignition. No smoke.

CAM 1 Coming on.

CAM 3 Brake system.

CAM 1 Okay.

CAM 3 Radar.

CAM 1 Up, off.

CAM 3 Hydraulic panels checked.

CAM 2 Thirty-five, thirty three.

CAM 1 Bert, is that handle in?

CAM ???

CAM 3 Engine crossbleeds are open.

23.33:22

CAM ? Gear down.

CAM ? ??

CAM 1 I gotta.

CAM ? ??

23.33:25

CAM 1 I gotta raise it back up.

23.33:47

CAM 1 Now I'm gonna try it down one more time.

CAM 2 All right.

23.33:58

[sound of altitude alert horn]



CAM 2 Right gear.

CAM 2 Well, want to tell 'em we'll take it around and circle around and ... around?

23.34:05

RDO 1 Well ah, tower, this is Eastern, ah, 401. It looks like we're gonna have to circle, we don't have a light on our nose gear yet.

23.34:14

TWR Eastern 401 heavy, roger, pull up, climb straight ahead to two thousand, go back to approach control, one twenty eight six.

23.34:19

CAM 2 Twenty-two degrees.

CAM 2 Twenty-two degrees, gear up

CAM 1 Put power on it first, Bert. That-a-boy.

CAM 1 Leave the ... gear down till we find out what we got.

CAM 2 All right.

CAM 3 You want me to test the lights or not?

CAM 1 Yeah.

CAM ? ... seat back.

CAM 1 Check it.

CAM 2 Uh, Bob, it might be the light. Could you jiggle that, the light?

CAM 3 It's gotta, gotta come out a little bit and then snap in.

CAM ? ??

CAM ? I'll put 'em on.

23.34:21

RT Okay, going up to two thousand, one twenty-eight six.

23.34:58

CAM 2 We're up to two thousand

CAM 2 You want me to fly it, Bob?

CAM 1 What frequency did he want us on, Bert?

CAM 2 One twenty-eight six.

CAM 1 I'll talk to 'em.

CAM 3 It's right ...

CAM 1 Yeah, ...

CAM 3 I can't make it pull out, either.

CAM 1 We got pressure.

CAM 3 Yes sir, all systems.

CAM 1 ??



23.35:09

RDO 1 All right ahh, Approach Control, Eastern 401, we're right over the airport here and climbing to two thousand feet. in fact, we've just

23.35:20

APP Eastern 401, roger. Turn left heading three six zero and maintain two thousand, vectors to 9 Left final.

23.35:28

RT Left three six zero.

23.36:04

CAM 1 Put the ... on autopilot here.

CAM 2 All right.

CAM 1 See if you can get that light out.

CAM 2 All right.

CAM 1 Now push the switches just a ... forward.

CAM 1 Okay.

CAM 1 You got it sideways, then.

CAM ? Naw, I don't think it'll fit.

CAM 1 You gotta turn it one quarter turn to the left.

23.36:27

APP Eastern 401, turn left heading three zero zero.

RT Okay.

23.36:37

RT Three zero zero, Eastern 401.

23.37:08

CAM 1 Hey, hey, get down there and see if that damn nose wheel's down. You better do that.

CAM 2 You got a handkerchief or something so I can get a little better grip on this? Anything I can do with it?

CAM 1 Get down there and see if that, see if that ### thing ...

CAM 2 This won't come out, Bob. If I had a pair of pliers, I could cushion it with that Kleenex.

CAM 3 I can give you pliers but if you force it, you'll break it, just believe me.

CAM 2 Yeah, I'll cushion it with Kleenex.

CAM 3 Oh, we can give you pliers.

23.37:48

APP Eastern, uh, 401 turn left heading two seven zero.

23.37:53

RT Left two seven zero, roger.

23.38:34

CAM 1 To hell with it, to hell with this. Go down and see if it's lined up with the red line. That's all we care. ### around with that ### twenty-cent piece ...

CAM ? ??



23.38:46

RT Eastern 401 I'll go ah, out west just a little further if we can here and, ah, see if we can get this light to come on here.

23.38:54

APP All right, ah, we got you headed westbound there now, Eastern 401.

23.38:56

RT All right.

CAM 1 How much fuel we got left on this ###

CAM ? Fifty two five.

CAM 2 It won't come out, no way.

23.39:37

CAM 1 Did you ever take it out of there?

CAM 2 Huh?

CAM 1 Have you ever taken it out of there?

CAM 2 Hadn't till now.

CAM 1 Put it in the wrong way, huh?

CAM 2 In there looks ... square to me.

CAM ? Can't you get the hole lined up?

CAM ? ??

CAM ? Whatever's wrong?

CAM 1 What's that?

23.40:05

CAM 2 I think that's over the training field.

CAM ? West heading you wanna go left or ...

CAM 2 Naw that's right, we're about to cross Krome Avenue right now.

23.40:17

CAM [Sound of click]

CAM 2 I don't know what the ### holding that ### ...

CAM 2 Always something, we could'a made schedule.

23.40:38

CAM [Sound of altitude alert]




CAM 1 We can tell if that ### is down by looking down at our indices.

CAM 1 I'm sure it's down, there's no way it couldn't help but be.

CAM 2 I'm sure it is.

CAM 1 It freefalls down.

CAM 2 The tests didn't show that the lights worked anyway.

CAM 1 That 's right.

CAM 2 It's a faulty light.

23.41:05

CAM 2 Bob, this ### just won't come out.

CAM 1 All right leave it there.

CAM 3 I don't see it down there.

CAM 1 Huh?

CAM 3 I don't see it.

CAM 1 You can't see that indis ... for the nose wheel ah, there's a place in there you can look and see if they're lined up.

CAM 3 I know, a little like a telescope.

CAM 1 Yeah.

CAM 3 Well ...

CAM 1 It's not lined up?

CAM 3 I can't see it, it's pitch dark and I throw the little light I get ah nothing.

23.41:31

CAM 4 Wheel-well lights on?

CAM 3 Pardon?

CAM 4 Wheel-well lights on?

CAM 3 Yeah wheel well lights always on if the gear's down.

CAM 1 Now try it.

23.41:40

APP Eastern, ah 401 how are things coming along out there?

23.41:44

RT Okay, we'd like to turn around and come, come back in.

CAM 1 Clear on left?

CAM 2 Okay



23.41:47

APP Eastern 401 turn left heading one eight zero.

23.41:50

CAM 1 Huh?

23.41:51

RT One eighty.

23.42:05

CAM 2 We did something to the altitude.

CAM 1 What?

23.42:07

CAM 2 We're still at two thousand right?

23.42:09

CAM 1 Hey, what's happening here?

CAM ?

[Sound of click]

23.42:10

CAM ?

[Sound of six beeps similar to radio altimeter increasing in rate]

23.42:12

[Sound of impact]

😨Breaking News! DONALD TRUMP PLAYS THE ACCORDION🙄

Well, I finally brought myself to actually look at my channel. The news was bad, but it could have been worse. It had gotten to the point that NOT looking was as stressful as looking. I have no idea why YouTube is doing this to me, but today I had confirmation that the algorithm can suppress news and opinions it doesn't like. This algorithm thing - I have no idea what it actually IS, but it seems to rule everything on YouTube and probably everywhere else. Like AI (and maybe it IS a form of AI), it's total fraud and can't be easily undone. I think it just keeps hiccuping the same restrictions, whether they are called for or not. If I try to contact an actual human being, I don't think it lands that way - if  it's acknowledged at all, it's run through the same machine which picks up words that must be censored - HATE SPEECH. 

The more I fight for my channel, the worse this thing gets. And I can no  longer reach a human being, though I remember doing live messaging years ago (the person didn't speak English well enough to understand me), and even got an email address with an actual person who tried to do something. Nothing happened, and it never worked again. So now you have to try snail mail, which is a joke, and those community help things which are an even bigger joke because the most recent post I could find was from THREE MONTHS AGO. Not exactly up-to-the-minute, is it?

No. It CAN'T be. But it is! Trump supporters hit bizarre new low.

I'd say "now I've seen everything", but I'm not sure I have. This news item was all over the alternative news sources, though the mainstream is still approaching it very gingerly. You can add this to his supporters wearing fake ear bandages, diapers (since he is rumored to be incontinent), and even - astonishingly - tshirts that proclaim they support this CONVICTED FELON and are going to vote for him.

I haven't followed American politics in a long time, and now I wish I hadn't started. My husband used to give me regular reports on what Trump was up to, and I groaned and waved them away. Then something happened: YouTube (which is still trying to destroy my channel even as we speak) began to jam Trump videos into my recommended stream, and I fell down the deepest, strangest rabbit hole of my life. And now I wish I hadn't, because if he wins, it won't just be the US which is in danger. Trump's best buds are Putin and Kim Jong Un. Just watch him as his quavering hand hovers over the nuclear button.

Photos Show Trump Fans Carrying "J.D. Vance Family Kit" Cups — What on Earth Is Going On?

Why, though?

By Jamie Lee

Published Aug. 19 2024, 1:24 p.m. ET




In the latest installment of "we are living in a bizarre timeline," a bunch of pictures have been circulating online that appear to show Donald Trump fans carrying around fake semen sample cups that say "J.D. Vance Full Family Kit" on them.

Why is this happening? What is going on? These are bigger questions than we could ever answer, obviously, but here is what we do know about this very unfortunate situation.

What's up with the J.D. Vance "family kit" cups?

No one knows for sure why some people thought it would be funny to put fake semen (gosh, we hope it's fake, anyway) into plastic cups with pictures of Vance's face on them alongside the words "J.D. Vance Full Family Kit." However, many are speculating that this is a way for some Trump fans to not only support Vance's "childless cat lady" comments but also to maybe even take a dig at Tim Walz for using IVF with his wife to conceive.

Vance's "childless cat lady" comments came from a 2021 interview he gave with then–Fox News host Tucker Carlson, in which Vance railed against his rivals (like AOC and Kamala Harris) as "a bunch of childless cat ladies who are miserable at their own lives and the choices that they've made and so they want to make the rest of the country miserable, too."

As for Tim Walz, the Minnesota governor and Harris's VP running mate, he has been open about the fact that he and his wife Gwen used fertility treatments to have their two children.

"When my wife and I decided to have children, we spent years going through infertility treatments," Walz said at a Philadelphia rally in August 2024 (per CBS). "And I remember praying every night for a call for good news. The pit in my stomach when the phone rang, and the agony when we heard that the treatments hadn't worked. So this wasn't by chance that when we welcomed my daughter into the world, we named her Hope."

So when it comes to the weird cups, again, no one really knows for sure why they're becoming an accessory of choice for some Trump supporters, but most of us can agree that it feels really, really off-putting.

BLOGGER'S NOTE. But cups full of "jazz" and tshirts proclaiming a convicted felon as the saviour of their country only represents part of the madness. There are also fake ear bandages which his supporters wear in solidarity, and - maybe even more bizarre than the jazz cups - Republicans wearing DIAPERS for Trump, after rumors that the 45th President does in fact wear Depends for incontinence.

I have nothing more to say on this matter. I'm going to go lie down now.

Three Men in a Boat (and a tin of Pine-apple)

 For some reason, this very silly story popped into my head today. It's a small excerpt from a wacky, daffy book called Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome. I remember "taking" this story in school, maybe in Grade 5, and thinking it was ridiculous and wonderful. I also remember listening to a CBC Radio series based on Three Men, with the theme song being a very lame polka (which I can't find, though Lord knows I've tried). The  things you remember!

To return to our present trip: nothing exciting happened, and we tugged steadily on to a little below Monkey Island, where we drew up and lunched.  We tackled the cold beef for lunch, and then we found that we had forgotten to bring any mustard.  I don’t think I ever in my life, before or since, felt I wanted mustard as badly as I felt I wanted it then.  I don’t care for mustard as a rule, and it is very seldom that I take it at all, but I would have given worlds for it then.

I don’t know how many worlds there may be in the universe, but anyone who had brought me a spoonful of mustard at that precise moment could have had them all.  I grow reckless like that when I want a thing and can’t get it.

Harris said he would have given worlds for mustard too.  It would have been a good thing for anybody who had come up to that spot with a can of mustard, then: he would have been set up in worlds for the rest of his life.

But there!  I daresay both Harris and I would have tried to back out of the bargain after we had got the mustard.  One makes these extravagant offers in moments of excitement, but, of course, when one comes to think of it, one sees how absurdly out of proportion they are with the value of the required article.  I heard a man, going up a mountain in Switzerland, once say he would give worlds for a glass of beer, and, when he came to a little shanty where they kept it, he kicked up a most fearful row because they charged him five francs for a bottle of Bass.  He said it was a scandalous imposition, and he wrote to the Times about it.

It cast a gloom over the boat, there being no mustard.  We ate our beef in silence.  Existence seemed hollow and uninteresting.  We thought of the happy days of childhood, and sighed.  We brightened up a bit, however, over the apple-tart, and, when George drew out a tin of pine-apple from the bottom of the hamper, and rolled it into the middle of the boat, we felt that life was worth living after all.

We are very fond of pine-apple, all three of us.  We looked at the picture on the tin; we thought of the juice.  We smiled at one another, and Harris got a spoon ready.

Then we looked for the knife to open the tin with.  We turned out everything in the hamper.  We turned out the bags.  We pulled up the boards at the bottom of the boat.  We took everything out on to the bank and shook it.  There was no tin-opener to be found.

Then Harris tried to open the tin with a pocket-knife, and broke the knife and cut himself badly; and George tried a pair of scissors, and the scissors flew up, and nearly put his eye out.  While they were dressing their wounds, I tried to make a hole in the thing with the spiky end of the hitcher, and the hitcher slipped and jerked me out between the boat and the bank into two feet of muddy water, and the tin rolled over, uninjured, and broke a teacup.

Then we all got mad. We took that tin out on the bank, and Harris went up into a field and got a big sharp stone, and I went back into the boat and brought out the mast, and George held the tin and Harris held the sharp end of his stone against the top of it, and I took the mast and poised it high up in the air, and gathered up all my strength and brought it down.

It was George’s straw hat that saved his life that day.  He keeps that hat now (what is left of it), and, of a winter’s evening, when the pipes are lit and the boys are telling stretchers about the dangers they have passed through, George brings it down and shows it round, and the stirring tale is told anew, with fresh exaggerations every time.

Harris got off with merely a flesh wound.

After that, I took the tin off myself, and hammered at it with the mast till I was worn out and sick at heart, whereupon Harris took it in hand.

We beat it out flat; we beat it back square; we battered it into every form known to geometry—but we could not make a hole in it.  Then George went at it, and knocked it into a shape, so strange, so weird, so unearthly in its wild hideousness, that he got frightened and threw away the mast.  Then we all three sat round it on the grass and looked at it.

There was one great dent across the top that had the appearance of a mocking grin, and it drove us furious, so that Harris rushed at the thing, and caught it up, and flung it far into the middle of the river, and as it sank we hurled our curses at it, and we got into the boat and rowed away from the spot, and never paused till we reached Maidenhead.

 

Trump School Bus ad: the Stable Genius goes off-road (and how!)

This is the best thing I've ever seen. And it isn't even exaggerated! They could quote him verbatim to the same effect. I've been watching the meltdown, but I do not trust that he will NOT get in. I think he may well be President again. 

The Little Ash Girl: Cinderella Undressed

 

I remember this recorded version of Cinderella much more vividly than the Disney movie. For one thing, it's strung together by the music from Prokofiev's ballet, one of my favorite orchestral pieces. It's weird, because the music must have made an impression on me in my childhood - as much as the story, at least - but it sort of faded out of my mind until a couple of decades ago, when I stumbled on the ballet music again and felt my scalp prickle from the stirring of memory.

This record, or records (two 78 rpms) gracefully incorporated the quirkily gorgeous Prokofiev ballet score. The narrator might as well have shut up and let the music tell the story. Listening to it as an adult, there is a certain edge, a pleasing tartness in the music that cuts the sweetness, and a real sense of irony, of tongue-in-cheek. Cinderella is almost - not quite, but almost - a madcap figure, a sort of puppet acting out her fate because "that's how the story goes". Then there are those stepsisters, nasty spinsters spinning their nasty webs. In a TV version of the ballet, one of the stepsisters was around 180 pounds, twice the size of the standard ballerina, and took her pratfalls with good humor (though it was obvious she was a very good dancer). In contrast, the other stepsister was a menacing rack of bones.

Once you start digging into the deeper layers of fairy tales, you find yourself gasping and floundering. There is just too damn much "meaning", too many layers, and some versions are wildly conflicting. The earliest Cinderella story was some Sumerian thing from the Fourth Dynasty (or whatever), and the story involved fish. It took place on boats and in tombs. How could the two be linked? I was also surprised to find that the Grimm brothers, known for telling stories too gory and disturbing for children, were known to sanitize these primal folk tales to make them more palatable (and sell more books). But even their cleaned-up versions are so shocking they are almost in poor taste, at least for children.

With Cinderella, the Grimms were somehow connecting us to a stranger, older and darker story (and much longer - each of these fairy tales would fill a  book) than the stereotypical and sugary version we have today. A fairy godmother? Not a chance. That would make it too easy. Here is how Aschenputtel (Cinderella in German, which literally translates as the nasty nickname The Ash Fool) gets her gold-and-silver ball gown:

As no one was now at home, Cinderella went to her mother's grave beneath the hazel-tree, and cried,

"Shiver and quiver, little tree,
Silver and gold throw down over me."

Then the bird threw a gold and silver dress down to her, and slippers embroidered with silk and silver. She put on the dress with all speed, and went to the wedding. Her step-sisters and the step-mother however did not know her, and thought she must be a foreign princess, for she looked so beautiful in the golden dress. They never once thought of Cinderella, and believed that she was sitting at home in the dirt, picking lentils out of the ashes. The prince approached her, took her by the hand and danced with her. He would dance with no other maiden, and never let loose of her hand, and if any one else came to invite her, he said, "This is my partner."

Right away, I think of My Fair Lady, and how no one recognized the "draggletailed guttersnipe" Eliza Doolittle because Henry Higgins passed her off as a Hungarian princess. It's such a direct hit that it makes me shiver. G. B. Shaw was no fool, knew his fairy tales, and knew how to hit a nerve.

So is the Ash Girl's ball gown a disguise, or something else? Perhaps her grimy sackcloth was some kind of veil, and the shimmering gown she took from her mother's grave a reflection of her deeper self. It literally turns her into someone else, or back into the person she was meant to be - someone even her family doesn't recognize. The storyteller plays with identity here in a way which is downright spooky.

There's no stroke-of-midnight in the story, but Aschenputtel must beat a hasty retreat after the ball. She hides in a pigeon-house or something - what an odd place to hide! In this strange version there is more than one ball - one version claims, "the Prince had three balls", which I thought was pretty funny. So she must return to the graveyard for a new dress each night.

Cinderella's dead mother figures large in this story, as do those enigmatic white birds. Where Disney got all those mice is anyone's guess. I could find no pumpkins here either. There is a controversy around the slippers, whether they were made of glass or not (the Grimms seemed to think not), and some versions even suggest they were made from fur. It's hard for us to picture our heroine clomping around in comfy bedroom slippers at the ball. But let's press on.

Next morning, he went with it to the father, and said to him, no one shall be my wife but she whose foot this golden slipper fits. Then were the two sisters glad, for they had pretty feet. The eldest went with the shoe into her room and wanted to try it on, and her mother stood by. But she could not get her big toe into it, and the shoe was too small for her. Then her mother gave her a knife and said, "Cut the toe off, when you are queen you will have no more need to go on foot." The maiden cut the toe off, forced the foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain, and went out to the king's son. Then he took her on his his horse as his bride and rode away with her. They were obliged, however, to pass the grave, and there, on the hazel-tree, sat the two pigeons and cried,

"Turn and peep, turn and peep,
there's blood within the shoe,
the shoe it is too small for her,
the true bride waits for you."

Then he looked at her foot and saw how the blood was trickling from it. He turned his horse round and took the false bride home again, and said she was not the true one, and that the other sister was to put the shoe on. Then this one went into her chamber and got her toes safely into the shoe, but her heel was too large. So her mother gave her a knife and said, "Cut a bit off your heel, when you are queen you will have no more need to go on foot." The maiden cut a bit off her heel, forced her foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain, and went out to the king's son. He took her on his horse as his bride, and rode away with her, but when they passed by the hazel-tree, the two pigeons sat on it and cried,

"Turn and peep, turn and peep,
there's blood within the shoe,
the shoe it is too small for her,
the true bride waits for you."

The repetition of rhymes, incantations and spells is an indispensible part of this kind of storytelling, usually in threes (the "turn and peep" shows up three times). Characters come and go as if through a revolving door, in and out of reality. The mystical significance of birds can't be overemphasized in this version, particularly the two white pigeons, who play a more active role than many of the humans. 

All sorts of analysts have tried to figure out the slippers. Some say they are representative of female genitalia, which I don't really get (though they do get bloody in a way which suggests the female fertility cycle). Shoes allow one to walk in public, be mobile, go forth. Dance. In contrast to the slippers (whatever they're made of), there are also big heavy wooden clogs, low-status peasant shoes,  made for those who toil in the dirt.

Walk a mile in my shoes. The old woman who lived in a shoe. If the shoe fits. . .

He looked down at her foot and saw how the blood was running out of her shoe, and how it had stained her white stocking quite red. Then he turned his horse and took the false bride home again. "This also is not the right one," said he, "have you no other daughter." "No," said the man, "there is still a little stunted kitchen-wench which my late wife left behind her, but she cannot possibly be the bride." The king's son said he was to send her up to him, but the mother answered, oh, no, she is much too dirty, she cannot show herself. But he absolutely insisted on it, and Cinderella had to be called.

I can't help but feel this is a reference to virginity, an absolute must for marriage, particularly to nobility. To marry, and particularly to "marry up", one absolutely had to be pure. The mother seems to be saying in so many words that her daughter is too "dirty" to be considered. And her own father is calling her a "little stunted kitchen-wench", a mere leftover from his first marriage - "wench" being a term for a "loose woman". Is this why white doves swirl and flutter around the story as proof of Aschenputtel's unassailable virginity?

She first washed her hands and face clean, and then went and bowed down before the king's son, who gave her the golden shoe. Then she seated herself on a stool, drew her foot out of the heavy wooden shoe, and put it into the slipper, which fitted like a glove. And when she rose up and the king's son looked at her face he recognized the beautiful maiden who had danced with him and cried, "That is the true bride." The step-mother and the two sisters were horrified and became pale with rage, he, however, took Cinderella on his horse and rode away with her. As they passed by the hazel-tree, the two white doves cried,

"Turn and peep, turn and peep,
no blood is in the shoe,
the shoe is not too small for her,
the true bride rides with you."

There's so much here that I can't begin to get into it!  Bloody shoes, false brides, hazel trees and white pigeons which have somehow, mysteriously, become doves. And dead mothers, and a maiden's tears having the magical power of  healing and summoning. Sliding her foot into that slipper does have a sexual feel to it - the perfect fit - casting off virginity and stepping across the threshhold into womanhood. Of course this version is a translation from the more stolid German, so some expressions may have been extensively reworked. The magic incantations were probably quite altered, as they had to rhyme, scan and make sense. But all those bleeding, chopped-up feet - . Isn't this a desperation to escape one's station in life, to move on up or social-climb, even at the cost of being able to walk? Only Aschenputtel has the grace to hold off and allow the Prince to recognize her face. Yes, her face - not her foot.

I skipped the part where the Prince sets a trap for the Little Ash Girl by spreading pitch on the stairs of the ballroom (so at least one of her furry slippers will get stuck). I skipped the nastiness of the stepmother throwing lentils into the ashes on the floor, each grain of which Aschenputtel must pluck out by hand (probably digging into the skin on her knees). And when did ashes become cinders? Cinders are almost like live coals, not quite burned out, and quite dangerous. Don't get a cinder in your eye.

I also stumbled on a version in which the stepsisters were actually beautiful, but deadly. In other words, they were beautiful to look at but had nasty personalities. I've always had a lot of trouble telling little girls that "ugly" characters in fairy tales are "bad", and "beautiful" ones are "good". Just what does that mean? How much effect does it have on the average impressionable girl?

At any rate, my beloved 78 rpm version has no amputated toes, nor does Prokofiev's. But the ending of the Grimm version is a killer. The magical doves have alerted the Prince to Aschenputtel's true identity:

"Turn and peep, turn and peep,
no blood is in the shoe,
the shoe is not too small for her,
the true bride rides with you."

And when they had cried that, the two came flying down and placed themselves on Cinderella's shoulders, one on the right, the other on the left, and remained sitting there. When the wedding with the king's son was to be celebrated, the two false sisters came and wanted to get into favor with Cinderella and share her good fortune. When the betrothed couple went to church, the elder was at the right side and the younger at the left, and the pigeons pecked out one eye from each of them. Afterwards as they came back the elder was at the left, and the younger at the right, and then the pigeons pecked out the other eye from each. And thus, for their wickedness and falsehood, they were punished with blindness all their days.

Yoicks! Blindness all their days! This isn't very merciful, is it? Very forgiving? But it interests me that the Little Ash Girl doesn't have to do any of the dirtywork - the white doves are her unlikely agents of revenge. Even a symbol of peace is full of hidden menace.

Though we often hear that these stories are too ancient to trace down to their roots, somebody must have thought of them, started them at some point in antiquity. Versions swirled around and were added to and (obviously) sanitized, but then it all sort of hardened, like the glass slipper. So even this relatively-modern Grimm tale of blindness and bleeding feet is about as far away from the Disney version as it gets.

FOOTNOTE! More on the glass/fur controversy:

The illustrated Antique Fairy Tales book sums up the argument in a footnote:

“There is no doubt that in the medieval versions of this ancient tale Cinderella was given pantoufles de vair – i.e. [slippers of] fur … probably [from] a grey squirrel. Long before the seventeenth century, the word vair had passed out of use… Thus the pantoufles de vair of the fairy tale became, in the oral tradition, the homonymous pantoufles de verre, or glass slippers.”