Agatha Christie at the age of five
It’s hard to imagine the horror of a childhood without gender-coaching, video games, or public schooling–but that’s what poor Agatha Christie had to overcome.
This is what happens in a country where the teachers’ unions don’t bankroll a major political party. Kids like little Agatha slip through the cracks. They wind up spending altogether too much time with their parents and knowing hardly anything about the joys of socialism.
Really, it’s just too dreadful–!
While I grow older and vegetate in the doctor’s waiting room this morning, we have a request from “Unknowable” for Byron the Quokka’s baby picture. Always happy to oblige, so here it is.
There is, of course, a whole family album to trot out; but Byron eschews celebrity status. I am not sure he knows what “eschews” means. The last time I used that word, he said “Gesundheit.”
We are all sinners and we all need redemption. God knows this, and has provided it–in the person of His Son, Jesus Christ.
Sung by Maddy Prior and the Carnival Band, written by Charles Wesley–I Know That My Redeemer Lives.
See, this is one of those things that make people think that maybe cats are not all there. Why do they chase their tails? But then how are we, tail-less bipeds that we are, to judge? When all we’ve got is that poor little coccyx that nobody ever sees unless something has gone terribly wrong. Then it’s ineluctable.
I’d better stop here before I turn into Casey Stengel.
I didn’t know he knew this, but Byron the Quokka has reminded me that the original Brexit referendum was held in 2016, and three years have gone by with the the government just spinning its wheels.
Theresa May became prime minister in 2017 and promised to carry out the wishes of the people and expedite Britain’s departure from the European Union. So much for government promises.
“You should’ve put that in your post,” says Byron.
“Don’t get a swelled head,” I reply. “I’ll turn you over to readers who think you’re boopable.”
I think she heard that.
It’s hard for an American to make much sense of British politics; but for what it’s worth, Prime Minister Theresa May has resigned, effective June 7, they’re gonna need a new one, they still haven’t figured out exactly how they’re supposed to secede from the European Union–and assorted UK politicians are clamoring for a “second referendum” on leaving the E.U. (https://www.breitbart.com/europe/2019/05/28/labour-diane-abbott-calls-second-referendum/)
They didn’t like the way the first one turned out.
Meanwhile, in the E.U. elections just concluded, the “Brexit Party” won big in Britain. Any indication that the government is serious about a do-over is sure to raise hell. The Labour Party of course wants one, but we are told that there’s a major conflict over that within Labour’s ranks.
You think we have trouble with just two political parties. The Brits have a whole raft of them.
The problem is that when they held the first referendum, “Remain” was supposed to win–sort of like Hillary Clinton was supposed to win here, in 2016–so the globalists never bothered to draw up a workable plan to carry out the people’s wishes if they voted to leave the E.U. But they did. And one wonders whether the government ever had any intention of abiding by the result of the referendum. Globalists don’t much care for referendums that don’t go their way.
In fact, throughout Europe, the globalists fared very badly in the elections, with patriotic national parties regaining lost ground–enough so that the Red Pope is calling everybody racists and biggits for wanting to preserve their own countries. How would he fare, do you think, if they held a referendum on his papacy?
There is only one Person who has the right to govern the world, and that is Jesus Christ. Until He sets His throne upon the earth, God has given us nations as a protection against any power-mad cabal that seeks to dominate the whole shebang. A world government would be a global tyranny.
I don’t have a piano, otherwise I’d be chewing the keys.
I wanted to go outside and work on my brand-new book today, The Wind from Heaven–and it’s raining. Like, it’s always raining. So instead I tackled my Newswithviews column, hoping the rain would stop by the time I finished it: but I have, and it hasn’t.
Why not just put the computer out of the way and write indoors?
Because I can’t write fiction indoors. Haven’t done it for ten years, at least. The phone rings, this happens half a dozen times a day, and it’s either nobody at all or else a fatzing robot pretending to be human and trying to get money out of me. I just can’t do that kind of writing indoors anymore. I need the trees and the sky.
Well, find some other tasks to do…
I admit I don’t understand humans at all.
Hi! It’s me, Byron the Quokka, and this is my first nooze post. I’ve seen Lee do it hundreds of time–how hard can it be? Even Joe Collidge can do it!
Anyhow, you humans should all watch out because there is an Evolutionary Paradox out there that will do you in if you take pills to grow hair! (https://www.bbc.com/news/health-48396071) As you have probbly guessed, there are no bald quokkas–I mean, would that look weird or what? Like that cool show with William Shatner, all about The Unexplained–
Whew! Caught myself getting sidetracked. Mustn’t do that!
We once found an Evolutionary Paradox here on our island, it was disgusting and all the quokkas were afraid of it. I forget what it was. This one that has just been discovered in the nooze, though, is much worse–for humans, that is. These men with gigantic big muscles and lots and lots of hair, it turns out they can’t buy fertilizer. Something about their wives can’t have babies. Well, we told you that you need a pouch for that, didn’t we? Otherwise there’s no place to put the baby when you’re not using it.
There is also something in the story about “male beauty,” but we quokkas find such discussions to be in very poor taste.
And that’s the morning news! Easy as pie!
I am dreadfully busy today, so I’ve left Byron the Quokka in charge of this blog. He insists he’s up to it. In fact, he says, we’ll probably get more views with him running it. I’m too set in my ways, he says.
Well, all right, here’s his chance. Since the comment contest ended, he’s been itching for something to do, he keeps tugging the cuffs of my pants. I can’t take it anymore.
Can he do it? Can he drum up readership?
We’ll just have to see.
It always starts with people happily marching in the streets.
How come utopia always turns out looking like dystopia? Especially when it’s on a college campus!
You know libs are just dying to bring Bias Reponse Teams into off-campus American life. Hey, wouldn’t it be great! Hot dog, the least little slip of the tongue can land you in a world of hurt! You couldn’t trust anybody…
You and I aren’t made that way, so we can’t see the attraction in this sort of thing. We aren’t crazy. We aren’t Democrats. The idea of a police state, run by themselves, just turns ’em on: they can’t resist it.
Let them get back into power, ever again, and watch the whole country get turned into a gulag–oops, I meant a college campus. Getting a little hard to tell the difference. A campus is a gulag with lots of late-night parties?