Sunday, January 2, 2011

Reassuring Pedants: There, their, they're.

"Why don't you get back into bed?* " chimes the chorus backing Ian Dury in his wonderful song: "Reasons to be cheerful".

The new year has brought with it a wave of pensive pessimism that might be better termed 'despondency', and, in truth I have had no reason to ask myself this question* today because, (despite the late hour and the dark sky,) I have yet to bother getting up yet at all.

Why the lethargy? When each precious moment of life is a gift and no man is an island (unless he is covered in grass and completely surrounded by water)?

Is it not the greatest waste, for a time-wealthy person such as myself, to squander what's left of my youth and the daylight curled under a quilt in his bedroom; squirming like the fat livid larva of some imminent Kafkaesque insect?

Probably, but it's a very cheap way to spend the day and I really am far too unkempt to be seen publicly, so it's handier to live life in the fantasy of a hidden jew, hiding in a bombed out ruin in Warsaw,- this particular fantasy also absolves me from any domestic pride or its' attendant labour: in other words, the place ain't like this out of neglect; it's supposed to look like a bomb hit it. Honest. "I know it looks like I'm a lazy pig but really I'm just in my own small way tryin' to empathise with the victims of the holocaust".

Honesty has no place in this selfish delusion for if I was honest in my fantasy I would most certainly be sans interveb, and were I sans interveb then I probably would've gotten up by now to forage for food or cigarettes or something.

But via interveb, I did find out about something today, (of which I was completely unaware and which made me smile) and that is 'Muphry's Law', not to be confused with Murphys' Law, which you can read about, with examples, via the above link; my favorite example of 'Muphry's Law' is as follows:

In 2009, the British Prime Minister Gordon Brown hand-wrote a letter of condolence to a mother whose son had died in Afghanistan, during which he mis-spelled the deceased's surname.

The Sun (a tabloid newspaper) published a vitriolic article criticising his lack of care. In this article, the paper mis-spelled the same name and was forced to publish an apology of its own.

Mwahhaha! -That's what you get, you bastards!



I 'spose I might as well get up now.

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