There are still people alive who were here for World War II, but you’d almost think that war had never happened, judging by the little that we’ve learned from it.
The British ruling class spent years appeasing the Third Reich, making excuses for Hitler, trying to be Mr. Nice Guy, and they still got the living daylights bombed out of their country–and a brand-new German battleship, the Bismarck, determined to cut off their imported food supply.
Some folks you just can’t be nice to.
I’m doing the best I can, here, with the hymns. I only have a few minutes before the connection times out. So here (I hope!) is Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, sung by the Altar of Praise Men’s Chorale.
I’ve probably got about three minutes before I lose the Internet again–so here we proudly present cats and kittens getting good use out of chairs. Probably humans would enjoy doing the same, if they only gave themselves the chance.
![Murder Must Advertise (The Lord Peter Wimsey Mysteries Book 10) by [Dorothy L. Sayers]](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/51IdGbJuW9L.jpg)
One of the things keeping me out of the booby hatch lately is a crackerjack mystery novel, Murder Must Advertise, by Dorothy L. Sayers. I’m re-reading it and I don’t want it to end.
Lord Peter Wimsey gets called in to solve a murder at an advertising agency, where he goes undercover as a copy-writer. Dorothy Sayers worked for several years as an advertising copy-writer, and she knows all the ins and outs of the business. In fact, her depiction of the agency is so fascinating, you almost don’t care about the murder.
Just to show you what the author knows, Ms. Sayers considered this one of her least best books, didn’t like it much. She never realized what a terrific book it was!
I’d like to say more, but again the computer’s giving me fits and I don’t know whether I’ll be able to post this or not. Suffice it to say that this is one of my all-time favorite mysteries–and it does a superb job of taking your mind off whatever’s bugging you.
Throughout the 1950s and 60s, Jon Gnagy’s Learn to Draw was among the most popular educational TV shows. I watched it regularly, and sent away for one of his instructional kits. And you know what? It really helped me learn to draw!
His lessons usually started by showing you the basic geometric shapes–cones, cubes, spheres, etc.–underlying the objects that you wished to draw; and then he’d show you how to build on those. For instance, you’d start with a cone and build it, step by step, into a sheaf of wheat, a teepee, or a church steeple. The kit had a variety of pencils, charcoal sticks, and this really cool “kneaded eraser” that was like a ball of Silly Putty. And it had a book of scenes that you could learn to draw–again, step by step.
Over the years, I got rather good at drawing all kinds of things. It was fun! We still have Patty’s Learn to Draw kit stowed upstairs. Still lifes, landscapes, people and animals–it’s all in there.
Well, our tech guy has come and gone, he’s installed the new modem, and we’re right back where we started from because, he says–well, never mind what he says, I don’t understand it, just makes my head spin. Somehow we have to replace our Internet service.
So for the foreseeable future I’ll be taking half an hour to do a five-minute job, and maybe it’ll work and maybe it won’t, etc., etc.
I need to sit down outside and have a cigar.
I shall return if possible.
The guy is supposed to come and install our new modem sometime this afternoon, and that’s supposed to solve our problems, and I have to hang onto my sanity until that happens.
This schiff with the computers is driving me up the wall. Half the time I write a post and it just disappears. Half the illustrations I post wind up missing. And it takes half an hour or more to do a five-minute job.
Virtually everyone in the Western world is better with computers than I am.
Ooh-ooh–“Saving of Draft Failed”! Why are they telling me that? I don’t have a draft yet, I’m still writing it.
Give me strength.
P.S.–I did pray for my blood pressure, and the Lord heard that one. He sent my pressure right back down to where it ought to be.
Six years later, I might rephrase this if I were writing it afresh. But one point would still hold it together.
What leftids like to call “reality” isn’t real and the world can get by just fine without it.
Yes, boys ‘n’ girls, we can get by just swimmingly fine without transgender, without “gay” activists, without feminism, without all those other isms they’ve unloaded on us.
And when we write fantasy, we can keep all that rubbish out of it.
We haven’t posted this in a while: an old Sunday school favorite since 1868, Yield Not to Temptation, performed by Nathan and Lyle. We never would’ve thought of adding a mandolin.
We’ve got a wind and rain storm outside, and maybe two more minutes before my connection conks out and no more Internet–so all I’m gonna tell you is, here’s some cats and bunnies, enjoy ’em.