Sunday, August 21, 2005
Scottish scientists in collusion with their Mexican based counterparts have discovered a method of generating electricity from limes and lemons. This also works in reverse; limes, lemons and other citrus fruit can consume excess energy and so act as a buffer for any power spikes that may arise across the network.
A grant has been proved by the FTMT Foundation into fully researching the acidic qualities of fruits v their electrical properties and uses. The spectrum of belief within the Scottish scientific community has broadened as a result of this sharing of knowledge as has the Tequila and Nachos consumption. Everybody is happy so far, getting on with thinking wide-ranging and strange thoughts and the summer is generally appearing warmer than first thought. Whatever: the formula can be written thus:
e=l/l (citrus factor/x2)~lime/lemon reduction<92>
Most ordinary people are both puzzled and stumped by this phenomenon - I’m happy to say.
Special thanks to "Erin’s Kitchen" for the photo.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Blind drivers, but that’s ok,
Worse things are going on in society
Your mother wouldn’t like it
She didn’t like your father’s beard.
You are what you calculate you are,
And whatever it was you heard.
Working class or second best,
Held together or put down.
"Passion?" I’ll borrow that for a second,
Eat chickpea daal and rebound,
Keep on knocking till you hear,
Till the uncertainty disappears
Till the frantic scratching stops,
And you drop.
Potting and plotting in your best shed,
Ambush my house is not what you said,
Just don’t take my shadows away,
Just don’t turn the key too carelessly
Combine a set of works, a bit like cooking,
Advice and ideas are better looking,
Than a cow chewing, turning fields to green.
We stop the seeing part, only to descend
In flying boats and leather coats, expand.
No matter what you believe or demand.
Believe the unbelievable,
So much better that way, and easy to take the surprises,
In your stride.
Why were you born?
To exercise your obvious supremacy?
Over the likes of them, and maybe me?
What comes easier, what comes closer?
A chimpanzee at the controls of a bulldozer?
When you are small, we are all small and safe,
We remind you of the times you worried, escaped.
Science has you strangled now with quantum possibilities,
There are more ice creams than there are toppings,
Good-bye to god and Sunday shopping.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Paris in the Summer.
Hot and sticky, thunderstruck.
Queues and Mona Lisa smiles,
Catch the visitor’s smiles, anxious not to miss a sight,
Miles of queues and bag searches.
Asian tourists hungry for the Western world.
Taking the biggest strides, to stand beside,
The Eiffel Tower and discover
It has a non-magnetic surface
It has surly and sour café staff
It is claustrophobic and spectaclular
It has pigeons and peculiar shapes.
We came back to escape.
Ride the Metro to the pavement, rides the pavement,
Beggars sing or testify to passengers, misunderstood,
Read aloud your life and misery,
And move to the next carriage to beg again.
Snaking Seine. Grey and brown.
Square and angular financial sector, business blanked out and trafficless,
Eat ice cream and drink cold beer.
Hear and see, sniff the air and don’t care, we are the tourists here,
This is not our city, but for a few short hours, it is.
Arches and triumph, lost cars and double parking.
Look for a bus, look for the exit.
Take us to the country; take us to the quiet again,
This is not our city, this is Paris.