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I took a trip down memory lane when I looked at some very old threads. Those who have been around here as long as I have will no doubt remember some of these members who are no longer active on this site such as;
OREGONGOLD
MONTEMONTE
TTOM50
SCUBADIVA
THERESMYFRIEND
PUR4MANCE
CUDDLINGSOUL
VENUSENVY
GLATLOL

It left me wondering whatever happened to these folks?.

... is currently reading 2 minutes to midnight the same time as during the " cold war "

So what better time than now to play this...

I notice on the calendar, that tomorrow is Monday, May 13th.
and began to wonder why a Friday the 13th was chosen as the supposed unlucky day.
Seeing how many working people TGIF ! and hate the idea of having to go to work,
it would make more sense that Monday the 13th would be chosen as the unlucky day.
Well, while it is popularly accepted in the USA, other countries have other 'unlucky' days.

From Wikipedia;


So, that leaves one question. Do you feel lucky punk ? Do ya ?

Obviously, government officials, movie stars and public figures live by different standards when it comes to a stay-at-home order. Mayor Becky Ames of Beaumont, Texas gets caught when a photo of her surfaces at a closed nail salon. She's issued an apology:
"As an elected official I am held to a higher standard, I regret my action that day. I am honestly sorry and I pray that you will forgive me."
According to the district attorney: “We are reviewing to determine if there was a violation."

I wager they will wash it away.

You say there are more?

When I walked through the park the other day I was left wishing I hadn’t. It’s some years since I was last there and its deterioration was depressing. It had the appearance of being given just enough attention to stop nature reclaiming it but not enough to stop it from looking desolate and uncared for. I hear they don’t even bother to close and lock the gates at the end of the day any more; there’s no one there to close them and there’s nothing left in there for the vandals to damage.

There used to be a full time team of keepers at work in that Park. We kids were the bane of their lives; keeping them on their toes when we would climb trees and make dens in the bushes, and play football on the meant to be kept off grass. We had nicknames for some of them, and they had curse words for some of us.

Near the entrance to the park there were facilities: Six tennis courts that were mainly empty for 50 weeks of the year, yet still kept in good order. During Wimbledon fortnight people queued to get onto them. There were four assiduously tended and pampered bowling greens in front of a long, roofed pavilion. They were in constant use. Retired men, mostly old miners, spent their afternoons on them, taking their games very seriously. One old fella used to make us laugh; he would trundle his bowl down the green and then trot along behind it, following it to its destination; watching over it as if to supervise its progress. And, for the duration of the short journey, he would maintain the body position prevailing at the time the bowl left his hand: Bent forward at the waist, in a stoop, and one arm stretched out with an upturned palm of the hand.

I once heard of strange goings on in the toilets; things beyond a child’s understanding, or at least beyond a child’s understanding of the reason for them.

Long gone are the well kept flower beds with paths running through them and a fountain in the centre. They were mostly filled with wall flowers and snapdragons. I remember there were lupins and red hot pokers somewhere; I would never have suspected that I would one day even feel nostalgic about those. There was also a rose garden with heavy wooden trellises between high, brick pillars. There were four benches in the rose garden and four cherry trees, set out in a square. All that’s left now are the cherry trees, looking a bit out of place just standing there on there own.

I wish I hadn’t gone into the park the other day; I wish my memory of it were still the one I had before I did. I don’t think I’ll be going there again. I could say that park is a metaphor for my life but it wouldn’t be true. My life never really had a heyday, and I always ignored the weeds in my flower beds.

We are living in very troubling times. We all know this because of the enlightening videos that numerous public spirited bloggers are constantly posting. I wouldn’t have known that God is thinking of incinerating us all in the near future because he is fed up with how we are carrying on. And who can blame him? I didn’t know about the millions of children that are being abducted and held captive in huge underground cities. I had no idea about all the Hollywood stars eating babies, at their satanic rituals. And what about the Chinese master plan to give all of us a very nasty cough so that they can take over the World? It just goes on and on, there seems no hope.

But wait, there could be someone who could put a stop to all this evil in the World. Just one man; a man who some even say God put among us to banish these evils. And who is that man? you cry. Well I’ll give you one fcuking guess.

Mister Godley’s gnomes

Mister Godley is very proud of his garden. He is especially proud of all his gnomes, he collects them and can’t understand why all the other gardens in his street are not full of gnomes.

Mister Godley has got gnomes with fishing rods, gnomes with wheel barrows and gnomes doing almost anything you can think of. He even has a gnome with its trousers down and showing its bottom to the people who walk past the garden. There used to be a gnome with its trousers down that wasn’t showing its bottom, but Mrs. Godley accidentally broke it with a hammer.

Mister Godley is very friendly and likes to talk to his neighbours. Whenever one of Mister Godley’s neighbours is walking past the garden, Mister Godley always seems to be standing at his gate. Sometimes Mister Godley’s neighbours walk home a different way and don’t have the chance to chat with Mister Godley.

Mister Godley likes to talk about lots of things, but his favourite thing to talk about is his gnomes. Mister Godley’s neighbours know all about all of his gnomes and where they all came from. There is only one neighbour who doesn’t know all about Mister Godley’s gnomes and that is the lady who lives next door to him. She is always too busy to talk to Mister Godley, even when she isn’t busy.

The lady who lives next door is a little bit like one of Mister Godley’s gnomes because sometimes when it is sunny she goes into her back garden and uncovers her bottom, but she doesn’t show it to the neighbours. Sometimes Mister Godley accidently sees her botom when he is rearranging the gnomes next to the bit of fence that has a hole in it. Mister Godley usually rearranges his gnomes when Mrs. Godley is out shopping.

Mister Godley’s other next door neighbour is called Mister Flowers. Mister Flowers also likes gnomes but he thinks one gnome is enough. His gnome is holding a spade and looks like it is digging a hole. Mister Flowers only ever talks about his gnome if somebody asks him about it, and nobody has ever asked him about it.

On the other side of the road from Mister Godley’s garden there is a garden with no gnomes in it at all. That garden belongs to Mister Sharpe. The only thing in Mister Sharpe’s garden is a big plant pot with a pretend tree in it that looks more like a brown stick with a big green ball on top than a tree. Mister Sharpe and Mister Godley don’t chat to each other very often. When they do chat they both stay in their own garden and they have to talk very loudly so that they can hear one another. When Mister Sharpe and Mister Godley are chatting the other neighbours like to come out to listen to them. Once, even a policeman came to listen to them. That was on the same day that Mister Godley went out into his garden and found that someone had put all his gnomes in his fish pond.


Did you like the story about Mister Godley and his neighbours? They all live on Connecticut Street, which is named after a place in America. All the streets in Mister Godley’s neighbourhood are named after places in America. There are lots more stories about the people who live in Mister Godley’s neighbourhood.

Adam Goodes. Know the name? Well, he was for years a star player at Aussie Rules Football. (?Girly sport by comparison?). And a member of an Aboriginal Tribe, "The Rough Ones". As with our last fully affirmative action, do little, shuck 'n jive, US President, also with half White heritage. Except that Adam apparently never threw his loving minority kin under the bus, as did Baruch the magic Negro, (not my term), when he called his loving Granny, a 'typical White person'. He said a lot of such racist things. VERY lot. But I digress once again.
Adam was interviewed by the ueber lib biased BBC, and seems a star along many lines, in our book. In ANY book.
Apparently, he had been continuously racially bullied, after High School, while in the Major league life. Imagine that, Racism in Oz?! Bugged him, for sure, as when many here on our own beloved CS are bullied, oh, say, on their physical stature. But took it like the true champ (not a Chimp) that he is.
Until one day, with 6 games remaining in the season, he made a rare error, at which he heard from the crowd, "you are an APE". Somehow he had had it, looked around, and saw that it was a 14 YO girl standing with sis, in the stands. He called an official to "Get them out of here", which they promptly did. And hit the bench.
Prince that he seems to be, he asked to meet with the girls after the game, where they apologized, and he kindly tried to educate them some. He said he thought they really had little understanding of damage done by their actions, and likely were only mouthing (?aping) other Racist bullies.
Well, in spite of his great career, as an escape from poverty, he quit the sport, relocated to his Homelands, deciding instead to work for social justice, against the sort of racism, some real, but mostly Syndrome driven, one sees here on CS.
He has interesting Videos to google. Check out "The Australian Dream", just for a sniff or two.
I love to make these stories up.

Starting With The Trump-Endorsed Cotton-Pickin'* Congresswoman From Texas


*That's LITERALLY True -
Congresswoman Flores was brought to the US at age 6 by her migrant farm labor parents & she spent her teen years working Texas cotton fields to help support her family.

Her story beats Hell outta Any 1800s Horacio Alger "Rags To Riches" Dime Novel!