Three verys, all spelled correctly - you need to drink more!

I've just walked down the street singing 'I can see the glory in the coming of the lord'

i'm not sure I can drink more

Then, Keep Singing! Loudly!

All together now ...

Heart of the champion seal of approval for the British teams! Well done! Brentry.

First they ignore you. Then they laugh at you. Then they attack you. Then you win. (by someone lol)

Wait for it damn it, wait for it...

I'm meeting an Italian girl at the moment. For the Past month and a half now. After the Mussolini posts back there. She's the fourth that I met online in the last year. I've already done everything to
mess it up and turn her off me but she's overlooking it and stcking by me for some reason. She's been living here for the past nine years and understands our culture well.

Educated. Successful. Independent and we have stimulating conversations. I'm still cynanical enough to be on the lookout for that gotcha. And I can't find it.

I will admit when if it does goes to **** though.

Not drunk yet... But give me a little time...

Ajax played the final two minutes without any trace of cynicism in their bones. A beautiful, transcendental philosophy.

Ingesting pseudo-behaviorism can be intoxicating, but the hang-over is brutal.

Wookie,

Please tell us more. Be specific.

Your friend,

Howard

Maybe if they just punish them even more finally they’ll behave....https://www.alamogordonews.com/story...co/1152505001/

For your reading pleasure on a droll Wednesday. [I stole this (copy and paste) from a website]. It is the greatest essay ever written by an Englishman.

G. K. Chesterton

ON LYING IN BED

Lying in bed would be an altogether perfect and supreme experience if only one had a coloured pencil long enough to draw on the ceiling. This, however, is not generally a part of the domestic apparatus on the premises. I think myself that the thing might be managed with several pails of Aspinall and a broom. Only if one worked in a really sweeping and masterly way, and laid on the colour in great washes, it might drip down again on one’s face in floods of rich and mingled colour like some strange fairy rain; and that would have its disadvantages. I am afraid it would be necessary to stick to black and white in this form of artistic composition. To that purpose, indeed, the white ceiling would be of the greatest possible use; in fact, it is the only use I think of a white ceiling being put to.

But for the beautiful experiment of lying in bed I might never have discovered it. For years I have been looking for some blank spaces in a modern house to draw on. Paper is much too small for any really allegorical design; as Cyrano de Bergerac says, “Il me faut des géants” [“I need giants”]. But when I tried to find these fine clear spaces in the modern rooms such as we all live in I was continually disappointed. I found an endless pattern and complication of small objects hung like a curtain of fine links between me and my desire. I examined the walls; I found them to my surprise to be already covered with wallpaper, and I found the wallpaper to be already covered with uninteresting images, all bearing a ridiculous resemblance to each other. I could not understand why one arbitrary symbol (a symbol apparently entirely devoid of any religious or philosophical significance) should thus be sprinkled all over my nice walls like a sort of small-pox. The Bible must be referring to wallpapers, I think, when it says, “Use not vain repetitions, as the Gentiles do.” I found the Turkey carpet a mass of unmeaning colours, rather like the Turkish Empire, or like the sweetmeat called Turkish Delight. I do not exactly know what Turkish Delight really is; but I suppose it is Macedonian Massacres. Everywhere that I went forlornly, with my pencil or my paint brush, I found that others had unaccountably been before me, spoiling the walls, the curtains, and the furniture with their childish and barbaric designs.

. . . . .

Nowhere did I find a really clear space for sketching until this occasion when I prolonged beyond the proper limit the process of lying on my back in bed. Then the light of that white heaven broke upon my vision, that breadth of mere white which is indeed almost the definition of Paradise, since it means purity and also means freedom. But alas! like all heavens, now that it is seen it is found to be unattainable; it looks more austere and more distant than the blue sky outside the window. For my proposal to paint on it with the bristly end of a broom has been discouraged—never mind by whom; by a person debarred from all political rights—and even my minor proposal to put the other end of the broom into the kitchen fire and turn it to charcoal has not been conceded. Yet I am certain that it was from persons in my position that all the original inspiration came for covering the ceilings of palaces and cathedrals with a riot of fallen angels or victorious gods. I am sure that it was only because Michael Angelo was engaged in the ancient and honourable occupation of lying in bed that he ever realized how the roof of the Sistine Chapel might be made into an awful imitation of a divine drama that could only be acted in the heavens.

The tone now commonly taken toward the practice of lying in bed is hypocritical and unhealthy. Of all the marks of modernity that seem to mean a kind of decadence, there is none more menacing and dangerous than the exultation of very small and secondary matters of conduct at the expense of very great and primary ones, at the expense of eternal ties and tragic human morality. If there is one thing worse than the modern weakening of major morals, it is the modern strengthening of minor morals. Thus it is considered more withering to accuse a man of bad taste than of bad ethics. Cleanliness is not next to godliness nowadays, for cleanliness is made essential and godliness is regarded as an offence. A playwright can attack the institution of marriage so long as he does not misrepresent the manners of society, and I have met Ibsenite pessimists who thought it wrong to take beer but right to take prussic acid. Especially this is so in matters of hygiene; notably such matters as lying in bed. Instead of being regarded, as it ought to be, as a matter of personal convenience and adjustment, it has come to be regarded by many as if it were a part of essential morals to get up early in the morning. It is upon the whole part of practical wisdom; but there is nothing good about it or bad about its opposite.

. . . . .

Misers get up early in the morning; and burglars, I am informed, get up the night before. It is the great peril of our society that all its mechanisms may grow more fixed while its spirit grows more fickle. A man’s minor actions and arrangements ought to be free, flexible, creative; the things that should be unchangeable are his principles, his ideals. But with us the reverse is true; our views change constantly; but our lunch does not change. Now, I should like men to have strong and rooted conceptions, but as for their lunch, let them have it sometimes in the garden, sometimes in bed, sometimes on the roof, sometimes in the top of a tree. Let them argue from the same first principles, but let them do it in a bed, or a boat, or a balloon. This alarming growth of good habits really means a too great emphasis on those virtues which mere custom can ensure, it means too little emphasis on those virtues which custom can never quite ensure, sudden and splendid virtues of inspired pity or of inspired candour. If ever that abrupt appeal is made to us we may fail. A man can get used to getting up at five o’clock in the morning. A man cannot very well get used to being burnt for his opinions; the first experiment is commonly fatal. Let us pay a little more attention to these possibilities of the heroic and unexpected. I dare say that when I get out of this bed I shall do some deed of an almost terrible virtue.

For those who study the great art of lying in bed there is one emphatic caution to be added. Even for those who can do their work in bed (like journalists), still more for those whose work cannot be done in bed (as, for example, the professional harpooners of whales), it is obvious that the indulgence must be very occasional. But that is not the caution I mean. The caution is this: if you do lie in bed, be sure you do it without any reason or justification at all. I do not speak, of course, of the seriously sick. But if a healthy man lies in bed, let him do it without a rag of excuse; then he will get up a healthy man. If he does it for some secondary hygienic reason, if he has some scientific explanation, he may get up a hypochondriac.

(1909)

Quite right. Getting up early is for servants and slaves. And this is how Heads of State ought to behave, not tweeting megalomaniac mumbo jumbo.

I've been lying in bed since noon. For no reason at all other than it is what I want to do.

No colored pencils though.

[My Bold]

After all these years my old friend you still make major gaffs. First, Prince Charlie is a lackluster goon and officially not the head of any state, and is just the next in line when the current Queen cashes in her chips and falls off the throne in a fit of boredom. So goes the House of Windsor - what else can you expect from a family of ancestral German blowhards.

Second, many heads of States behave mostly any way they want, witness the current Emperor of China (not officially called an Emperor, but an Emperor nonetheless), Mastermind Putin, Stalin the Magnificent, and any number of strong men (or women) who grab a country by the reins. Especially in Africa or South America. Tweeting megalomaniac mumbo jumbo is just now part of the job. It's just progress that it now that the mumbo jumbo happens faster than previously: There is Nothing New Under the Sun. And you miss the real reason anyway, as so many do.

Hold out baits to entice the enemy, feign disorder, and crush them. - Sun-Tzu.

I've been lying in bed listening to political commentary because it's hard to swallow standing or sitting.

Only the one crushing the party of imbeciles with a glimpse of a truly better future is scientific society itself.

"Spread knowledge, love, confidence and virtue, reduce disorder with higher complexity and wisdom. Crush mediocrity and tell time itself to take a hike, the gig is over, welcome to your new master, the empire of clarity, the destroyer of depression and false worlds.

You do not have to crush them to win everything. Crush their depression and ignorance instead. " MdZ

Better yet ...

"Lying in bed looking at the fractal Hausdorff dimension of the part of the ceiling that is not eclipsed by her magnificent body, yelling at her to take it easy with these ferocious gravity impulse games that threaten the "integrity" of your...straightforward smile as you are summing up the infinite series expansion of terms that took you to that moment!"

All Xs ought to behave like Y does not imply that Y is an X, of course.

Carry on.

I owe you a pint or two. Add it to the marker. I'll pay up next time I'm in London.

London's East End? Sound advice it seems to me.

It's the cut of the cloth, Zeno. You can appreciate that.

If you can't wear a decent suit, you might as well live in a cave.