Heh ... way back in the Stone Age of Irish TV, they used to have ads with 'live' voiceovers. As a kid, I remember hearing one for an energy drink, where the guy said "increases your virility" instead of 'vitality'.

It's like that *celibacy* innit?

Yours,

Tristram de la Domme

<Shalimar> is a particular perfume smell. Not a "brand name," but a particular smell.

It is a beautiful sounding word- I've not smelled it myself, but I'm certainly looking forward to it.

Soulful Erse Man <Van Morrison> sings an exquisite line about it on "Madame George", from <Astral Weeks>...

A record that <Lester Bangs> correctly regarded to be the greatest record ever made.

Of course, he regarded that <Velvet Underground> record that is simply <feedback> to be the second greatest record ever made.

"Madame George" is an Irish transvestite pedophile.

However, he never "scores."

Instead, the local rapscallions take advantage of him-- getting free cigarettes from him--- hanging out at his gaff after grade school and taking drugs, playing games--

But Madame never gets any of the forbidden, and hopeless, love he craves.

<Down on Cypress Avenue,
With the child-like visions slipping in to view,
The click and clacking of the high heel shoes

Ford and Fitzroy and Madame George,
Marching with the soldier boy behind,
He's much older now with hat on drinking wine,

And that smell of sweet perfume comes drifting through,

On the cool night air like <<<Shalimar...>>>>

At the end of the song,
One boy feels sorry for him.

This moment of empathy is, in my opinion, the most sublime moment in pop music history... leading to the immortal thrice repeated refrain--

"And Frogspawn is on its way
I can hear that merry <Gypsy dom> play

Momma...Momma... sweet amarro.
She bin playin with the radio...

And Frogspawn is painted red and white
That means everyone's staying overnight

And the barefoot <Gypsy Dom> round the campfire sing and play...

LA, LA, LA LA... LA LA LA

Turn up your radio

Playing somebody rated much, much higher than myself last night in the Year of the Rat Decathlon part 4 (part 3 was a bore draw), I wormed my way through the complications and achieved the following simple position:

click for larger view

I prefer, however, to see it in a <Surrealist> light. We insist that the world reflect our dreams and be *other* than it is. And <bolshy great yarbockles> to cold hard reality.

Sympathy would not be appropriate. Well done, man ... the hand has its own agenda that the brain cannot grasp.

I'd forgotten Madame George. How could I? Great music, of course.

For poignant trannies, though, I prefer Scott Walker's Big Louise:

"She stands all alone
You can hear her hum softly
On her fire escape in the sky ..."

And, yes, we can add Dylan's Queen Jane and Lou-Lou's Walk on the Wild Side, and the Kinks' Lola, and ...

Yes, it's a bit curious isn't it?

In his very fine essay on <Van Morrison>, Lester Bangs relates how much resistance he got from fellow critics and friends when he insisted that <pedophilia> was a major source of subject matter for <Van's> songs.

<Bangs> had a theory-- that <Van> was interested in exploring the case of people who had NO CHANCE whatsoever of ever being loved by anyone-- a case of total human <deprivation>, not just a cliched case of <depravity>. Funny, and probably not coincidental, that those two words are closely related.

<Dylan,> of course, was also interested in this condition-

"Old men with broken teeth, stranded without love."

Ironically, both <Van> and <Bob> scored as many young chicks as humanly possible.

<"Old men with broken teeth, stranded without love." >

I'm getting there. A few more years of sugar'n'smoke should do for the teeth, whereupon I'm told the state of unlovability follows automatically.

I look forward to directing angry gap-toothed snarls at the human race.

"Oh, who could love the Skeleton
Of a poor marmoset?
Nought but boan, boan with his Cloathes on ..."

Hi <Dom>!! What are you doing up at 4 AM???

All poems about <marmosets> are cool by definition.

The <Primate> (Pope) agrees, however dimly he may regard evolution.

Is the Primate the only human being with a whole -ology (viz, primatology) devoted to him?

That could go to a guy's head, causing him to wear a wedding dress and talk incessantly about his imaginary friend.

yes, and in ways that boggle the imagination--

VIZ- paired electrons and spin--

If "observed" (in theory- heh), if one electron were spinning left, then changed to spinning right, it's paired partner would immediately spin in the opposite direction- even if it were at the opposite end of the universe.

Such 'action at a distance'== a cause and effect relation of information that happens much, much faster than the speed light can travel-- led to phantasmagorical speculations, many of which have suppoting maths, that the universe can 'fold' and defy all <classical> notions of <space time>.

Inerestingly, <Einstein's> great revolution in physics is NOW called the <classical model>-- not Newton's--

"time marches on"-- or not---

Intriguingly, speaking of evolution, the <Office of Primate> has its origin in Roman government-- It was a religious office with great prestige and power, but of course pagan.

Bloody pagans.

Dang in my last post I forgot to say the trademark greeting I lifted from <an englishman>.

I broke my streak!!

There's always Bell's Theorem. Locality fails, which is the scientific way of saying that our simple notion of 'things' being in a 'place' at a 'time' is all wrong.

God is An Englishman, of course, but I have no idea whether the converse holds.

Helpful hints: You can mend a broken streak with vinegar, whatever that is.

No, it's "Sunday" here, but they have a different word for it.

yes I played today on Yahoo and enjoyed myself mightily. I gave a report on it at the <Cappin's Table>.

I don't know if God is an Englishman, but <Stephen Hawking> certainly is.

The whole world congress of physicists is currently seeking to attack every one of his "achievements."

One wonders if this has something to do with his popular celebrity?

At any rate, he agreed at a recent conference that, contrary to his belief of 25 years, <information cannot be "lost"> in the Universe.

Classy guy, this Hawking. He honestly cares more for the "facts" than his "career".

He will be remembered for more than his celebrity, despite the jealousy of others.

<Newton's> ideas on gravity are incorrect, be his 'contribution' to science will never be forgotten.

Same for <Hawking>.

Stephen J. Hawking: (from the briliant <Errol Morris> documentary film):

"The <current state of inquiry on the Big Bang> does not preclude a Creator-- but it does place limits on what he may have been able to do..."

Has caring more for "the facts" (or whatever you choose to call 'em) than a "career" (or whatever etc) really become so unusual?

The very word 'career' makes me nauseous. It should only be used to describe the motion of people who snowboard down Mt Everest on pizza boxes.

I found an actual postcard recently depicting what looks like two rabid wolverines having it out on a chessboard. Out, not 'off'.