Today is Thursday, the 10th of July, 2025.
Knowledge is power, said Francis Bacon, said Twenty-Five.
Mmh, I like bacon, said one of the sixteen cats with tears of joy.
And I like being part of the group of only predators in this caravan of ours, whispered one of the cats with wry smile.
Mr. Twenty-Five, Sir, one of the chicks approached our little tawny owl. Shouldn't we give our contestants a little hint about at least one of today's cities?
Twenty-Five, the little tawny owl, was half asleep.
What contestants? What hints? he yawned.
The City Song Quiz? the chick continued. One of the two might be a little hard to find out.
The city's name is also one of our neighbour-planets, said Twenty-Five sleepy. Is that enough of a hint.
And the other is a bomb, one of the bats added mischievously, a sex-bomb.
Do we need an explicity warning? one of the ladybugs wanted to know.
And meanwhile ten kissing cats joined the two cats with wry smile, the twenty-four smiling cats with heart-eyes, the sixteen cats with tears of joy, the eight grinning cats with smiling eyes, the thirty-one grinning cats, the twenty-three spiders, the fifteen scorpions, the seven ladybugs, the twenty-nine bees, the twenty-one ants, the thirty crickets, the twenty-two mosquitos, the fourteen caterpillars, the six snails, the twenty six butterflies, the eighteen bats, the ten more chicks, the two chicks, the twenty-five chicks, the seventeen penguins, the nine little red birds and the one little tawny owl…
😽😽😽😽😽😽😽😽😽😽
"Bromford Returns"
Well, the fire of a thousand lost mornings
Was raging in the corner of the room
And a storm came in like a warning
It's a shame she has to leave so soon
We had been talking about the old days
And her long lost wedding gown
And I did not dare to mention
That we were better than somehow
She asked me where I've been hiding
If my dreams were still hers to burn
I told her that I've been happy
Waiting for Bromford to return
That city is a graveyard of ambition
With headstones of tears and of blood
I wonder if we made the right decision
Is this the future you were thinking off?
Is this the future you were thinking off?
See last I dreamed of the ocean
A silver beach and a silent moon
You were just about to give me your reasons
As the waves became my bedroom
Yeah, I heard the seasons change slower
When you try to watch them turn
It's easier to lose track of time
When you're waiting for Bromford to return
See, some nights I dream that I'm in New York
And some nights I dream that I am dead
Some days it feels so easy
And other days I just stay in bed
Six years ago she sent me a message
And I only just replied
All she said was, "How are you doing?"
All I said back was, 'I'm fine"
Yeah, I heard the seasons change slower
When you're living inside an urn
It's a good place as any
To be waiting for Bromford to return.
Those fires feel more like stars now
Raging for eternity
And those memories are shrouded in dust now
Deformed like ancient oak trees
My mother said all she wants is answers now
I told her that all I want is peace
She said, "That's because you have young children
And someday you will think like me"
So as time is our witness
Let us try to forget what we have learned
And I'll meet you at the San Domenico
And we will wait for Bromford to return
Have peace, have peace my friend
Until we meet again
Have peace, have peace my friend
Until we meet again
Well, the fire of a thousand lost mornings
Was raging in the corner of the room
And a storm came in like a warning
It's a shame she has to leave so soon
We had been talking about the old days
And her long lost wedding gown
And I did not dare to mention
That we were better than somehow
She asked me where I've been hiding
If my dreams were still hers to burn
I told her that I've been happy
Waiting for Bromford to return
That city is a graveyard of ambition
With headstones of tears and of blood
I wonder if we made the right decision
Is this the future you were thinking off?
Is this the future you were thinking off?
See last I dreamed of the ocean
A silver beach and a silent moon
You were just about to give me your reasons
As the waves became my bedroom
Yeah, I heard the seasons change slower
When you try to watch them turn
It's easier to lose track of time
When you're waiting for Bromford to return
See, some nights I dream that I'm in New York
And some nights I dream that I am dead
Some days it feels so easy
And other days I just stay in bed
Six years ago she sent me a message
And I only just replied
All she said was, "How are you doing?"
All I said back was, 'I'm fine"
Yeah, I heard the seasons change slower
When you're living inside an urn
It's a good place as any
To be waiting for Bromford to return.
Those fires feel more like stars now
Raging for eternity
And those memories are shrouded in dust now
Deformed like ancient oak trees
My mother said all she wants is answers now
I told her that all I want is peace
She said, "That's because you have young children
And someday you will think like me"
So as time is our witness
Let us try to forget what we have learned
And I'll meet you at the San Domenico
And we will wait for Bromford to return
Have peace, have peace my friend
Until we meet again
Have peace, have peace my friend
Until we meet again
"Marilyn Bromford"
Man:
Man:
(jarring chord)...Well, this time you've crawled too far!
Woman:
Oh, Jake, Jake! Why did you do it? You could have destroyed the tapes and none of this leftist would have happened!
Interviewer:
An excerpt from Carl French's latest film. Carl, we're all a little mystified by your claim that your new film stars Marilyn Bromford.
Carl French:
It does, yes.
Interviewer:
Who died over ten years ago?
Carl French:
Uh, that's correct.
Interviewer:
Are you lying?
Carl French:
No, no, it's just that she's very much in the public eye at the moment.
Interviewer:
Does she have a big part?
Carl French:
She is the star of the film.
Interviewer:
And dead.
Carl French:
Well, we dug her up and gave her a screen test, a mere formality in her case, and...
Interviewer:
Can she still act?
Carl French:
Well...well, she-she's still has this-this enormous, ah-ah, kinda indefinable, uh...no.
Interviewer:
Was decomposition a problem?
Carl French:
We did have to put her in the fridge between takes.
Interviewer:
Ah, what sorts of things does she do in the film?
Carl French:
Well, we had her lying on beds, lying on floors, falling out of cupboards, scaring the children, ahm...
Interviewer:
But surely Miss Bromford was cremated?
Carl French:
Well, we had to use a stand-in for some of the more visible shots.
Interviewer:
Ah! Uh, another actress.
Carl French:
Dead actress. But Bromford was in shot the whole time.
Interviewer:
How?
Carl French:
Oh, in the ash tray, in the fire grate and vacuum cleaner...
Interviewer:
So Marilyn does not appear in the film?
Carl French:
Not as such.
Interviewer:
Mr. French, you're one of the film world's most arrogant queens. I mean not just homosexual or gay or anything, I mean you are a raving queen.
Carl French:
Well, yes.
Interviewer:
I mean, a real screamer, a real "Whoops! Get out! Don't mind me, dear!" limp-wristed caricature.
Carl French:
Is that not in order?
Interviewer:
No, no, that's fine. And I understand that you married the beautiful black heiress Hueyna Tannoy partly for the publicity but mostly to cover up the fact that you prefer going out with little boys.
Carl French:
Look, really!
Interviewer:
Carl, you're an offending little poof, a mincing gay-bar loiterer, a whinnet-covered walking perfume shop and an evil perverter of innocent little boys!
Carl French:
What!? Really! Is this part of the interview?
Interviewer:
No, no, I just wanted a few contacts.
Carl French:
Well, well, shouldn't we be talking about the film?
Interviewer:
We've been off the air for ages. Now, where'd you find them?
Carl French:
Look, I think we are still on the air.
Interviewer:
Oh, sod the f***ing air! I just still get locked up with that sort of thing.
Carl French:
What about the film?
Interviewer:
Just a few addresses, please...
Carl French:
Look, we got James Dean in it, in a box!
Interviewer:
I-I can turn the microphone off if you...
Carl French:
And bits of Jayne Mansfield...
Reporter:
Well, ah, back here at the classic, I have good news that Vincent Wong, as horribly mutilated though he is, his partly dismembered shoulder bound together with an old top hat, has managed to select the correct reel and we are back with Monty Python and the Holy Grail..once again.
Woman:
Oh, Jake, Jake! Why did you do it? You could have destroyed the tapes and none of this leftist would have happened!
Interviewer:
An excerpt from Carl French's latest film. Carl, we're all a little mystified by your claim that your new film stars Marilyn Bromford.
Carl French:
It does, yes.
Interviewer:
Who died over ten years ago?
Carl French:
Uh, that's correct.
Interviewer:
Are you lying?
Carl French:
No, no, it's just that she's very much in the public eye at the moment.
Interviewer:
Does she have a big part?
Carl French:
She is the star of the film.
Interviewer:
And dead.
Carl French:
Well, we dug her up and gave her a screen test, a mere formality in her case, and...
Interviewer:
Can she still act?
Carl French:
Well...well, she-she's still has this-this enormous, ah-ah, kinda indefinable, uh...no.
Interviewer:
Was decomposition a problem?
Carl French:
We did have to put her in the fridge between takes.
Interviewer:
Ah, what sorts of things does she do in the film?
Carl French:
Well, we had her lying on beds, lying on floors, falling out of cupboards, scaring the children, ahm...
Interviewer:
But surely Miss Bromford was cremated?
Carl French:
Well, we had to use a stand-in for some of the more visible shots.
Interviewer:
Ah! Uh, another actress.
Carl French:
Dead actress. But Bromford was in shot the whole time.
Interviewer:
How?
Carl French:
Oh, in the ash tray, in the fire grate and vacuum cleaner...
Interviewer:
So Marilyn does not appear in the film?
Carl French:
Not as such.
Interviewer:
Mr. French, you're one of the film world's most arrogant queens. I mean not just homosexual or gay or anything, I mean you are a raving queen.
Carl French:
Well, yes.
Interviewer:
I mean, a real screamer, a real "Whoops! Get out! Don't mind me, dear!" limp-wristed caricature.
Carl French:
Is that not in order?
Interviewer:
No, no, that's fine. And I understand that you married the beautiful black heiress Hueyna Tannoy partly for the publicity but mostly to cover up the fact that you prefer going out with little boys.
Carl French:
Look, really!
Interviewer:
Carl, you're an offending little poof, a mincing gay-bar loiterer, a whinnet-covered walking perfume shop and an evil perverter of innocent little boys!
Carl French:
What!? Really! Is this part of the interview?
Interviewer:
No, no, I just wanted a few contacts.
Carl French:
Well, well, shouldn't we be talking about the film?
Interviewer:
We've been off the air for ages. Now, where'd you find them?
Carl French:
Look, I think we are still on the air.
Interviewer:
Oh, sod the f***ing air! I just still get locked up with that sort of thing.
Carl French:
What about the film?
Interviewer:
Just a few addresses, please...
Carl French:
Look, we got James Dean in it, in a box!
Interviewer:
I-I can turn the microphone off if you...
Carl French:
And bits of Jayne Mansfield...
Reporter:
Well, ah, back here at the classic, I have good news that Vincent Wong, as horribly mutilated though he is, his partly dismembered shoulder bound together with an old top hat, has managed to select the correct reel and we are back with Monty Python and the Holy Grail..once again.
🌕
🌕🌕🌕🌕
🌕🌕🌕🌕
🌕
🌕🌕🌕🌕
🌕🌕🌕🌕
🌕
The owl is not what it seems.
Buck Moon
Sister Moon, will be my guide
In your blue, blue shadows, I would hide
All good people, asleep tonight
I′m all by myself, in your silver light
I would gaze at your face the whole night through
I'd go out of my mind, but for you
I′d go out of my mind, but for you
Lying in a mother's arms
The primal root of a woman's charms
I′m a stranger to the sun
My eyes are too weak
How cold is a heart
When it′s warmth that he seeks?
In your blue, blue shadows, I would hide
All good people, asleep tonight
I′m all by myself, in your silver light
I would gaze at your face the whole night through
I'd go out of my mind, but for you
I′d go out of my mind, but for you
Lying in a mother's arms
The primal root of a woman's charms
I′m a stranger to the sun
My eyes are too weak
How cold is a heart
When it′s warmth that he seeks?
Venus??? Monroe
ReplyDelete