Tuesday, December 26, 2006

The Land of Cockayne

The Land of Cockayne.
No, that's not some Antique Belgian that's had a snort--more like an antique Belgian who's had too much Christmas fare, and like me, is all logey and very hard to light.

Cockayne, the sense of being stuffed too full. People want you to do things, Sing Carols, play guitar, make love.
But you can hardly go through the motions. You are stuffed too fulll, and like the man on the old Johnny Carson show who invented a one-wheel motorcycle, kick-starting the machine again and again, to no avail. There are days when you just can't get your "Wheelie" to work.

Uh. You seem to get on top all right. But the shift lever mechanism somehow fails to work. And good thing too: It's somebody else's wife!

It is difficult enough, along with Montaigne, to square the circle while perched atop your wife.
But Boolean algebra, while perched atop somebody else's wife is nigh on to impossible--especially if you plan to blog about it later, like a tattle- tale, and you hadn't yet switched to beta.

.Mathematicians do it more elegantly?
Hey, Einstein was a pretty handsome and cool dude. Riffed the Immanuel Kant off his sister-in-law.

You've got to admit that that Pieter Brueghel the Elder was some sort of cookie monster too.(I spell it Brueghel, since there are at least four versions of the spelling. What do I know? I learned my first alphabet in Polish and in fact got the "Polish" mark at Trinity College. Sixty-three in Classics. That's because I was a dummy and where students of Dr. French's class were asked to only answer Dr. French's question, I answered Dr. Golberg's as well. Why did I do that? Pre-test jitters, I suppose..
Or maybe I was smart, knew I had cut too many classes with Dr. French and would have better luck with Dr. Goldberg. I can shoot the bull with amazing facility, even elegantly and falsely footnoted , if provoked.
Only a sharp Hindu or a Cartesian Frenchman can cut through my web of bull roar. That or a smart redhead, and I don't mean Platonic pursuits.
But I digress.

It is Boxing Day.

Christmas Night is all but over.

I must go to the Mall (Need those boxing gloves for sure) and exchange a couple of things.

But I am still in a Land -of -Cockayne.
Ferdinand the Bull at the mall. The Bargain Yahoos will walk all over me.

Clerks, seeing my bulbous nose and red face from the drinking will become overly obsequious: "Good morning, Sir. Are you all right, Sir? Doing fine, Sir?"

I am tempted to offer an explanation:


So maybe I won't go to the Mall.

I am still in the land of Cockayne.

Anybody out there in the Land of Cockayne as well?

Can't get your Wheelie to work?

Cant even discuss going to work?

I fear I am in the Land of Cockayne, and try as The Man did over the Holiday, the devil has me by the lights.

. -30-


Josie said...

Riffed the Immanuel Kant off his sister-in-law? Ivan, you're too funny.

I'm glad you had a great Christmas. My daughter gave me two tickets to Rod Stewart. He's coming to Vancouver in March. I LOVE Rod Stewart.

I'm stuffed with turkey and the L-tryptophan is kicking in.



ivan said...

Hi Josie.
Or is it just me High?

Yes, doll, I had an incredible Christmas, thanks.
We the living carried on.
All the sisters and brothers- in -law were there.
Borrow a page from your book: The dead were around as with us The Living and we enjoyed their company, especially my father.
My beautiful father, who had the golden hands to make things for his wife and for us. And to see most of his family prosper.

For so long I was the white sheep until I turned, well, the other way.
Now the Black Sheep is back with a vengeance and the Sisters know there has been a shift in the old
Zeitgeist....I love the way my former colleague, Catherine Ford of the Calgary Herald puts that,
Catherine Ford claimed, back in the old newspaper days she had an IQ of l40. Does anybody from Calgary have an IQ of 140?
Hate to say it. It is xenophobic of me, but I never did think that Catherine was really ever from LA.
Oh God.
Don't drink rye, my colleagues tell me.
I am drinking rye.
Toast to yer.
Certainly not drinking Canada Dry.



Josie said...

Well, the question is, would anyone with an IQ of 140 GO to Calgary, or once there, actually stay there...?

We reminisced about Brian's mother, Betty, too. I may do a post about her one day.

My son-in-law had the most wonderful brandy. I'm going out tomorrow to buy some.

Too full to sleep..... What was that terrible joke we used to tell say when we were kids:

I got so Hungary I ate Turkey, and then I got so thirsty I drank Canada Dry.


EA Monroe said...

Ivan, you always bring a smile to my face. I'm back at work. I'd much rather be in the Land of Cockayne!

ivan said...

The way Vancouver weather's been going, Rod Stewart may have to come equpipped with scuba gear.
But then he does sing kinda raspy,as if through a mask, and that's the charm.
Didn't realize you're taking dietary suppements, Josie, especially after all that Christmas
The glitch in your health does concern me.
I presume the L-tryptophan is helping.
But then I guess there's other stuff...

ivan said...

Having to work on Boxing Day.
That's cruel.
The dastards have no mercy.
But I guess the mighty presses must roll, with all the Boxing Week ads.

Josie said...

Ivan, I meant the L-tryptophan in the turkey... Turkey has L-tryptophan in it, that's why everyone gets sleepy after eating a turkey dinner.

Slept like a log.


ivan said...

Sorry, Josie.
I am all but ignorant of biology.
My uncle Dave, by marriage, author of Sharptooth, a Year of the Beaver, says any man ignorant of biology should not write at all.
Maybe he had a point. He made lots of money on his books. I made very little.
But then he rode on the Audubon expressway
and I was in second gear in those days. I finally outraced David Allenby Smith, but by that time, he was on his deathbed.

So it was the Chrismas food that settled you down. Glad to hear it.
(I come from a family of panic artists who operate entirely by Murphy's Law.


doubtingthomas said...

So there I was, coming over here in a mellow mood to spread some goodwill amongst the visitors to this here little salon of Ivan's, and boast of coming home from work (where I did sweet fanny adams) and chancing on a boxing day bargoon of half-price fruitcakes, and what do I find, but that little chickadee Josie from the land of the big wind and DUI premiers and half price fruitcakes dissing that paradise on earth we call Calgary. (Oh, and thanks ever so much for all that hot air you send over the mountains; we call it a chinook)

I have just imbibed my annual Christmas rum and coke, (can of real Coke, one ounce of Gosling's Bermuda Black Seal dark rum) and may start singing at any moment...pity Josie doesn't rhyme with tequila...must the John Crosby coming out.

Here's to the spirits of Christmas past. hahaha

Tom in fabulous Calgary.

ivan said...

Welcome back, Doubting Thomas!

Heh. I thought you'd be up for defending old Ville de Vaches.

Arghh. You are an old Irish pirate
who somehow ended up in Calgary, Alberta. Don't ye miss County Cork or somewhere? Miss the ocean?

Over here, as you may have noticed, we're really bully on County Limerick, or more properly, just limericks.
The ladies will gasp, but I've always gotten the wind up to sing about the Man From Nantucket.

This webhost (loosely speaking) has been drunk for three days and is glad someone else is along for the marathon.
I had better cut down. I'm not enjoying the drinking any more.
Something has happened to my innards, probably because I ran out of beer and had to break out the rum.
It ain't soda pop, oh God, it's not!
I had been drinking it like beer as I watched myself change from a fairly mild Dr. Jekyll to a really mean Mr. Hyde...and I think I've perforated something. My ass seems to have fallen off.I am forever in the bathroom.
I used to think only kids could party all night and work all day--until I became one!
As I've said before, I am FN-99: Friggin' Near a Hundred.

Can't keep up this pace; red lights flashing all over. "This unit is breaking down."

Ah well. Pull the loo chain again.



Josie said...

Oooops. Actually I lived in Calgary once myself, for a whole year. I moved because I kept falling on the ice. Really. It would snow, then a Chinook would come in and melt everything, then it would freeze again, and I would slip and fall.

Say, I have a brother Tom who lives in Calgary....



ivan said...

Tom is an Irishman, scion of a carnival family, who lived for a long time in Toronto the Good.

EA Monroe said...

Does Tom know any Timmons or Workmans? One's from County Antrim and I'm not sure about the other, except everytime I asked my grandpa he'd say they came over on a potato boat.

ivan said...

Ah well, Liz,

My journalist friends,mostly Irishmen, reading my Black Icon,years ago, said "Ivan's always writing about the Potato Famine."

ivan said...

You passed out over there, Tom?

Stand up and defend your titles!

doubtingthomas said...

Nope, not passed out. Back for another round. When I said one drink, I meant one drink. Josie, I would be honored if people thought I was your brother in Calgary. Your wee little picture reminds me of a sheila I once knew named Shelagh. Nah. Your comment about the ice reminds me of yet another ribald rhyme:

Boys and girls heed my advice;
Pull down your pants
And slide on the ice!

Where that from?

Ivan, carnival family be damned! They were circus people, a very big difference, if you please. Aunts flew through the air with the greatest of ease, and uncle swept the spotlight away. Anything for a laugh, I say. For some years, I have been the agent for a jolly old fellow fond of dressing in red and white. I disappear and he appears and then the magic with the little kiddies happens. And everyone has a hell of a good time, especially me. And no greasepaint to wash off.

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