once you hand over your company advertising to a ‘promo company’ you are in big trouble - I have had personal experience of it - young turks trying to out someone else and come up with bizzare animations or scripts that are supposed to represent YOU and what YOU believe in - they haven’t a clue and usually produce crap - they are only playing to a younger audience
“Now approaching 67 years of age I find that lots of things annoy me.
For example, today a huge lorry passed me brightly emblazoned with this message”
I think it’s the little annoying things that keep us going RJ, once you go over the 60 mark you have a licence to moan in fact moaning is expected of you. I have been known to moan, harmless moaning and sometimes I enjoy it. Moaning is not to be confused with grumpiness, that’s a horse of a different colour altogether, I don’t like grumpy at all.
Oh If we could only harness all the energy we put into moaning and put it to work for us, for example, if you had the patience to write a book you could gather all your best moans, the long lingering moans that gave the greatest pleasure, and place them in order so those approaching 60 could benefit from them, a section on political moans, aches and pains moans, TV program moans, sports moans, family moans, even a ‘How to invent exciting new moans’ chapter. Indeed some folks have moaned themselves into good pay rises, probably given to shut them up, I would suggest “The A-Z Moaners Handbook” as a title, one could just flick through the pages to find the appropriate moan to fit the occasion, it could become an invaluable reference book in years to come. My old dad God be good to him used to say that if man hadn’t complained about walking long distances the wheel would never have been invented, moaning keeps things moving.
I moan at breakfast and I moan at tea
I main that the wife will poison me
I moan at sports shown on TV
I’m an open moaner for all to see
I moan when the bus is not on time
I moan when poems don’t rhyme
I moan at the cat and I moan at the dog
I moan when I’m out having a jog
I moan at the barman if my beer is not cold
I moan at the news and the way it’s told
I moan at the six o’clock rush
I even moan because I moan too much.
Thank you guys for inspiration upon which I shall meditate
Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart Be acceptable in Your sight, O LORD, my rock and my Redeemer. Psalms 104:34
Personally,I discovered that as I became one of the silver-haired ‘crumblies’ I used to laugh at,that young whippersnappers who can ‘open pdf files’ and ‘transfer data’ have NO idea how to use a fountain pen-which made ME,the silver-haired creaky-knee’d old fart in their midst,something of a minor tourist attraction! Just yesterday,I was explaining to an enthralled group of electronically-adept but thick as pigsh#t twenty somethings how to write using an Italic nib…they were properly enthralled…by fkn WRITING! So much so that three of them were straight onto their phones ordering fountain pens! [I didn’t have the heart to start explaining that there are Italic,broad,fine,lever-action,twist-action and cartridge pens,to name but a few]. But-it was sort of upsetting,that a generation of young men of fair educational standard,had NO idea about the intricacies of calligraphy OR real pens. Sod it-beam me up,Scotty…
He brewed a song of love and hatred
Oblique suggestions…and he waited
He polarized the Pumpkin- Eaters
Static humming… Panel Beaters
Freshly day-glow’d factory cheaters
you know spittie I do believe you are in training for Poet Laureate 2025!
Sorry, can’t lay claim to being the originator, should have been though, in an Ideal World,
OMG - you’re not cheating AGAIN are you - back to the naughty corner for you!
ps if you quote someone else then at least acknowledge the source!
Most stuff you would have written yourself, can be found in song lyrics. To some degree, most of what needs sayin has probably already been said, those lines are attributable to Jethro Tull.
They have a name for that sort of thing but I can never pronounce it, Plagiarism, I always thought it was a disease, something to do with the Plague.
Now take Mars Barr, he couldn’t give a monkeys who quoted him or nicked his stuff, heres what he thinks of that.
A writer called Harry Hague
Caught a bad dose of the Plague
His friend wrote a report
Harry took him to Court
But his case was far too vague.
Complete this…
They seek him here
THey seek him there
They seek Robert Junior…
Complete this
For he’s a jolly good fellow
For he’s a jolly good fellow
For Jem’s a jolly good fellow…
Complete this…
Waltzing with Gumbud
Waltzing with Gumbud
We’ll go waltzing with Gumbud
Complete this…
Volare, Spitfire
Cantare, Spitfire, Spitfire
Let’s fly way up to the clouds
They seek Robert here
They seek Robert there
When he is not here he isn’t anywhere
He doesn’t play the games
So you won’t find him there
and with sport he doesn’t worry nor care
Politics is not his fare
I have yet to find him there
Stating his views on Blair
No if you want to find this treasure
Yeh gotta go to the part called ‘Leisure’
Jem, thankyou for your acutely accurate assessment. Like native Americans of old I have been “staked out” here.
Often thoughts start Fleeting
Can make completion lost, in completing
Sometimes folks start competing
Without meeting and greeting
Shame, much is missed without Briefing
Who holds the Brief is succincting
Not me doing inflicting
Just floating, and winging.
[CENTER]Kimberley Musings[/CENTER]
Bloody freezing these dry mornings - 16C but climes to a dizzy 32 in the noon. Plenty of dew on the golf links but no other dogs thank goodness - too early for the ladies to get up.
collected a few cigars in the mail from the lad - always a welcome delight and now of course cool enough in late morning to sit out and chug a lug on the pipe or cigar - wot a life.
old cafe here the Jila Gallery and Cafe changed ownership recently - once you could get a morning coffee - no more sadly only opens in the evenings and as I looked at there menu doubt if it will survive long - too expensive for a small town and people don’t like driving when they can’t drink.
the cafes and restaurants are only catering for half the population - the Indigenous half don’t use them so out of a popn of 5000 you down to 2500 of course. you cannot hope to fill up your eatery regularly. Takeaway is more successful serving Chinese and junk food!
outdoors barbecues are regular and successful particularly in the dry season but you still have to nominate a sober driver which is often a teetotal female!
yesterday the FIL received his ‘new’ computer - reconditioned ones available for $250 for pensioners - fully reconned and available all over OZ. Just switch it on and it goes!
[CENTER]Me Mates[/CENTER]
I never was the centre of attraction
But I had a few old buddies ‘long the way
But somehow they’ve disappeared
And I find it rather queer
I thought we’d be forever every day?
I have never been the fittest of my cronies
But I must have had good fortune ‘long the way
Here I sit beyond my prime, feeling lonely but sublime
But they’ve all dropped off before their time!
There were some that just seemed to have misfortune
Hit a car or blew a gasket in their chest
So now I can count them on one hand, and they’re all in different lands
And their fingers cannot tap the keyboards anymore
I could pick up some new ones along the way
But it’s seem to get much harder by the day
And I’ve paid the price for staying far away
I’ve fallen out with just a few
Had a sort of senior moment blue
And by gum we can be stubborn as the desert asses
So it’s back to long distant phones
As we tell each of our groans
And pretend we had a good time in the past
And now we have no over choice
But to keep rendering our voice
And wondering who will be the one who’s last
The youngsters they all greet us
And do ‘polite’ talk sort of speeches
And then politely withdraw to greet a mate
I can understand their banter
But it’s not my sort of banter
And there’s no one who can talk the way I do
I’ve just have to face it, I have lost my buddies graces
And the gang has finally fallen all apart
Still I’ll raise up my bourbon glasses
And smoke me pot or is that hashish
And dream awhile until my final days
© gumbud
Golden words all gents
Where are all the ladies?