(Be still, and know that I am God… Psalm 46:10)
We have a hymn request from Thewhiterabbit: “Be Still, My Soul.” I don’t know who’s singing it, but the photography is gorgeous.
Year: 2024
Dogs Topple Humans
I can’t say any of the dogs in my family ever got into knocking people over. This video, though, shows that a lot of dogs are very good at that–here comes the dog, and head-over-heels you go.
Find the Sorceror! (Oy, Rodney)
Violet Crepuscular, The Queen of Suspense, confides in her readers: “Sometimes real life spills over into fiction–and vice-versa.
“You will recall that the notorious medieval sorcerer, Black Rodney, transported himself into the 19th century, only to find that he made an error that turned him into a large stick insect….
“Horrible, isn’t it! And now imagine several hundred of these converging on your kitchen! That’s what I’m dealing with today!”
We do not know how she’s dealing with it. Suffice it to say it’s an unbearable distraction for anyone trying to write an historical romance. We must also consider the possibility that one of these stick-bugs is actually Black Rodney seeking revenge upon the author.
And so we have no Oy, Rodney chapter for this week: Ms. Crepuscular has been forced to stand on a chair, beating back the stick insects with a Disney World fly swatter. Chapter DCCXXX is just sitting there, waiting for the next chapter. Readers all over the world are disconcerted.
If only she could find the stick insect that’s Black Rodney, and clobber it with the fly swatter! But they all look alike. You could swat a hundred of ’em and still miss Rodney.
‘He Hideth My Soul’
Losing my turgor, here: I think I’ll post a hymn and then go outside to have a cigar and watch the honeybees at work. Then maybe I can tackle Oy, Rodney… if it doesn’t somehow write itself.
Anyway, this is the hymn that opened the door and came in: He Hideth My Soul, one of thousands (!!) of hymns written by Fanny Crosby. Sung here by the Antrim Mennonite Choir.
Byron’s TV Listings, June 16
G’day, boys ‘n’ girls! Byron the Quokka here, trying to get the blog kick-started. Well, you can always do that with TV listings, can’t you? Especially when they’re provided by Quokka University. Here are a few samples.
3 P.M. Ch. 18 JET SKI DERBY–Sports, sort of
Host Charles DeGaulle hands out rifles to contestants, and the Grand Prize to whoever can pick off the most jet-ski riders in one day. Here, “Whomp-whomp-whomp!” gives way to “Bang-bang-bang!” Color commentary by Olga Gesundheit–who once potted 15 jet-skiers in a single hour.
Ch. 41 UNINTELLIGIBLE BABBLING NEWS!–(An hour down the drain)
Did you ever wish you could just talk gibberish and get paid for it? (Well, gee, I’ve known lots of people who wish that!) Anchorwoman Rita Beeta heads a crew of babbling kooks who sound like a penguin rookery. And all the video footage is upside-down.
3:15 Ch. eleventy-one YINK STILL CAN’T COOK–Kitchen mayhem
Correspondence school chef Yink Bu Chih-Dow tackles Violet Crepuscular’s recipe for toothpaste sandwich cookies! Meanwhile, his pet giant monitor lizard, Snuffy, latches onto Yink’s leg and tries to drag him into the cellar. Special guest: This guy who used to be on Ozzie and Harriet.
4:10 P.M. Ch. 66 MOVIE–Hard-boiled detective drama
In “The Postman Can’t Remember Where I Live,” Disney wash-out Titus Groan directs what has been called by umpteen critics “the darkest movie ever, it could make you despair of life” (Danish-Pictish, 1955: 14 minutes). Andre the Giant plays the postman with a poor memory, with Alvin Dark as the distraught customer waiting for an official announcement that he has won the lottery. Narrator: Porky Pig.
All right, so some of these are not exactly classics. So who said everything has to be this Great Work of Art?
(Come to think of it, I think it might’ve been me…)
I’ll cross dangerous waters to get to my TV set! Byron the Quokka, signing off.
‘Your Pet Crab’ (2018)
Patty let me sleep a little longer this morning. Don’t expect any nooze out of me.
Okay–pet crabs. I had one for several years, until he met his end in an accident. He lived in the lizard cage but was often allowed to wander around the living room. He was very strong: snipped an electric wire in half, once. But also a very peaceful creature. Alas, he climbed too high… and that was that.
By Request, ‘It’s Beginning to Rain’
Requested by Erlene: It’s Beginning to Rain, by Kenneth Copeland (background sets by God the Father).
The hymn shop’s open all day, and I try to post all hymns requested by readers.
Cats Can’t Play Chess
I hope this doesn’t come as a shock–but cats have never learned to play chess.
For our cat, Henry, the irresistible lure was Strat-O-Matic baseball. Dice, and little plastic baserunners–how was he supposed to ignore that? (He didn’t!) I didn’t dare leave the room until I put the game away.
Maybe Tomorrow…
Sorry, but I just can’t bring myself to write up Byron’s TV listings today. I wish I had someone to do it for me, so I could enjoy a laugh or two, but that’s a no-go.
Grief has overcome me today. I knew it would. At least I didn’t break down and cry during physical therapy this morning.
Maybe I’ll be able to post a critter video by suppertime. Maybe tomorrow we can hear from Byron. We’ll see.
They Want to Feed Our Soldiers Lab-Grown ‘Meat’
We’re on our way there!
Honk if you think the Democrat Party would like to turn our military into a mass of soul-less, mindless clones that will obey all orders no matter how atrocious or unlawful they might be.
In the meantime, the Biden Pentagon has proposed feeding America’s troops on “experimental lab-grown meat”–we might call it “Frankenmeat”–because, ya see, it’ll reduce our carbon footprint and Save The Planet (https://freebeacon.com/national-security/pentagon-wants-to-feed-troops-experimental-lab-grown-meat-to-reduce-co2-footprint/). They’ll grow it from “cells.”
It’s the brainchild of a company called BioMADE. Earlier this year they were awarded some $450 million by the government. Dept. of Defense wants to throw in another half a billion.
We are currently governed by persons who hardly appear to be human at all. Lord, we are sorry for whatever we did! Now please, please–deliver us out of the hands of these ungodly wicked moral imbeciles who have seized control of our country!