jeudi, mai 04, 2006
I have great trouble sleeping whenever the common cold decides to pay me a visit. I am already a light sleeper as it is - the addition of various mucosa flowing through the orifices of my head and the apparent impossibility of clear breathing transform my nights into challenges of tossing and turning in hot and cold sweats while 40 winks are literally stolen every now and then.
This morning I phoned in to work to warn them that after another night of tossing and turning I would go to work late and try to put some order to the to do list that has been piling. I returned to bed to grab another 40 minute power sleep but this was abruptly interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. I was not expecting many visitors. A policeman maybe - carrying the pv of my last misadventure with Luxembourg speed limits? The gardener had forgotten the key again?
Anyways. Door rings, door must be opened. Wrapped in night gown and with frizzy hair looking like an arab member of the Jackson 5 while coughing industrial amounts of phlegm I went to the main door of the apartments. There, standing at the door was a quasi-hobbit in a leather jacket carrying a leather wallet. The homunculus asked me whether I had some time to spare to discuss some issues. I pointed out (since it did not seem particularly clear to this not so bright miniBilbo) that I was sick and that a discussion could not be sustained long enough for mutual satisfaction to occur.
Whispering a "c'est pas grave" and a "desole d'avoir vous derange'" (where are the accents when you need them?) the man slipped a paper in my hand and vanished giving me just enough time to perceive a Tour de Garde Magazine in his hands. I looked at the pamphlet that hobbit man had handed me. It said - Bientot La Fin des Souffrances! Never had I wished that Jehovah's Witnesses would be so right.
Now, it turns out that I am not one of the Marshall persuasion, so I take these ominous prophecies rather more lightly. Mr Mini Hobbit would carry the Jackson 5 curse to his next destination - he was probably inwardly praying that the good lord would spare him such an unearthly apparition on his daily rounds.
I, on the other hand, was condemned to the rude awakening and, having no intention of reading some sucker pamphlet, I came to my mac instead. Checked my site - no comments on yesterday's nighttime blogpost - boring. But surprise surprise, serendipity was beginning to work. My mail inbox contained a missive from a former colleague of mine at the Uni of Malta who reads J'Accuse from time to time. This missive contained wonderful news.....
Forget the Encyclopedia Britannica, forget all your learned sources of wisdom... from now on there can only be one source.... ladies, gentlemen and jehovah's hobbits... the net proudly presents.... (drum roll and fanfare of trumpets)....
... and this includes ALL the articles published to date in the various media that tolerate TGIL's presence. Aren't we a lucky bunch?
"Puisque Dieu a prevu un avenir aussi merveilleux pour les humains, pourquoi a-t-il permis l'apparition des souffrances? Pourquoi les olere-t-il depuis si longtemps?" - Les Saintes Ecritures - Traduction du monde nouveau - avec notes et references (C) Watch Tower Bible and Tract Society of Pennsylvania
Addendum: I just noticed that TGIL has another article on today's Times. I will try to discuss puppets and other figurines tonight... maybe my head will have cleared and my work load lessened.