Fire Cloud...
An irregular marking on the exterior of Native American pottery: usually resulting from burning fuel coming in direct contact with the vessel during firing

Tuesday, 18 November 2014

Where the great giraffe is stored?

Sometimes what people hear is way better than the original lyrics. "He has trampled on the village where the great giraffe is stored" is certainly more evocative than the cryptic original, "He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored."

The Grapes of Wrath...where are they stored anyway? Are the people going to rise up against the bankers and politicos? The midterm elections are coming. We saw an old guy wearing a t-shirt with a peace symbol that said " seemed very dated and ironic in context.

They played the Battle Hymn of the Republic when President Bush spoke to the Nation after 9/11 and promised us a "Crusade"....I thought I'd choke ...maybe I can get it as a ring tone...
Revelation 14:19 And the angel thrust in his sickle into the earth, and gathered the vine of the earth, and cast it into the great wine press of the wrath of God.
Revelation 14:20 And the winepress was trodden without the city, and blood came out of the winepress, even unto the horse bridles, by the space of a thousand and six hundred furlongs.
You might also like, "He's the champion out of Venice where the great surf master scored." (1600 furlongs = 321.8688 kilometers)....or "He is trampling through the vintage where the caves of rattlers snored".
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
"Glory Glory Hardly Knew Ya!"

Mrs. Phred want to improve her mind with math, puzzles and music. We are also looking for a xylophone that will fit well into the RV and fold easily for transport.

I can see us doing the karaoke circuit in Paris. I'll sing "Summertime" while she accompanies me on the xylophone.

"Suppertime, and the liver was greasy..".

'Scuse me, while I kiss this guy....

Sunday, 16 November 2014

Venice Blues Festival

There is a rhythm that you need to feel to put up a satisfying blog. At least I do. Without interesting pictures or something to say, the frequency of the posts drops way off. My muse has become shy lately about removing her diaphanous gown...probably a function of advancing years and decaying brain cells..

 We have been adopted by a black cat. It was a timid little kitten with golden eyes last month. His name is "Kitty". He has grown quickly and become an aggressive hunter-killer, going after squirrels and other small game. He is very affectionate...he shows this by purring and digging his claws and teeth into the parts of you that he can reach.

 We went to the Venice Blues Festival with Ken and Karen. Good lunch at the new Fin's Restaurant upstairs at Sharkey's on the beach, followed by a bike ride and a few hours of blues....

I've would like to  something about  the Veteran's Day just passed. I was advised in the early 70s by HR professionals to take the five years of Viet Nam experience off my resume and make something else up to account for the time spent. That and being lectured about the war by middle-aged co-worker ladies are my fondest memories of a fickle, mindless public. Sheep, easily manipulated by corporate big media.

The Florida Blues Brothers were the comic relief at the festival. This one must be Jake, judging by the girth. He saw Carol dancing to the sound way back in the crowd and came back to express his admiration.

 Got a shot of this bird drying its wings at the concert.

 Florida can produce a sunset now and then.