I have to say I’m gobsmacked

Its been a short morning.

After a long two weeks of early mornings after very late nights, looking after grandchildren, getting one to school and home again, lunches and everything in between, it was a well-deserved sleep in.

What woke me up?

Donald Trump.  It took only two minutes to realize it was a campaign rally, ‘I am the greatest person in the whole world’ self-aggrandizing exercise.  And an opportunity to rubbish the Democrats.

As a person looking in from the outside, I would be easily led to think that the Democrats were worse than the Nazis.  Dancing in Chinatown when there’s a pandemic raging around them?  Wow!

And not one positive word about what’s happening in relation to the COVID 19 problem

Except of course, ‘they asked for medical supplies and I drowned them in supplies’, ‘thank you Mr. President’, over and over and over.  You have to back up only a day or so when the reality from someone on the front line was drowned out by the loudest voice in the room, that’s right, it was Mr. President.

With him in charge, why would I be worried?

Thank God then, I don’t live in the United States.

Fifteen minutes of headache-inducing self-aggrandizement was all I could take before switching to Selling Houses Australia.

And work on writing a new chapter with something far more pleasing in the background.

Later I sat back and considered conspiracy theories with the coronavirus at the heart of it.

What if a country developed a virus, stopped it from spreading in their own country, but allowed thousands and thousands of people to travel overseas, to the four corners of the earth.

What if there was a massive deception program to downplay how bad the virus is until the carriers have left the country so they can infect the rest of the world.

What if it also involves skewing the infection and death numbers so no one really finds out how infections could multiply exponentially.  Not until the damage is done.  Then the world can be told about it being asymptomatic during incubation and transmittable stage, spreading the virus without anyone knowing.

To what end?

Destroy the economies of their trading partners, bring on a global financial meltdown, or just because they can?

No, there’s a far more sinister reason this happened.  We just don’t know what it is yet.

Conversations with my cat – 94

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This is Chester.

We are in the middle of a philosophical debate.

No, it’s not about whether the world is flat, though sometimes I think he has that notion, as well as all humans are basically stupid.

I’ve been thinking about the pandemic and how it might meld into a plotline for a story.

Chester is not happy that I should use China as the country with global ambitions, after using the term ‘global domination’ and got a very silky retort.

He doesn’t seem to think that by causing a pandemic, making each of the G20 nations basically launch themselves into insolvency in order to maintain some semblance of economic stability, that China, who miraculously recovers, becomes the nation who saves the world?

It sounded quite good in my head.

Particularly when you see nations like the USA, the only other country that could tackle China as a ‘savior’ state, is going slowly down the gurgler.   Or so it seems, and it’s only a matter of time before something gives.

Chester and I now have mandatory viewing every morning, the Donald Trump show, where we lay bets as to whom he’s going to fire or lambast.

Chester thought the Doctor was gone for all money on Monday.

My money was on the reporter, who wouldn’t stop asking questions.

But today, it might be about Joe Biden and the Democrats, and the ramping up of the Republican’s political campaign.  Who said the COVID briefings had to be about that mundane virus?

Still, it’s back to the drawing board.  The overall plot is good, creating a virus that brings almost every nation to its knees, and one that rises out of the ashes to ‘save the world’.  It’s like you don’t need bullets and arms to fight a war, just a hell of a sneaky virus; you know, infecting people when you don’t know you’ve got it and infecting others.

Hang on, Chester’s calling.  It’s time for the Donald Trump show.

Reality television, just why am I watching this stuff?

If I was ever in doubt that there was one medium that could produce a thousand storylines, it’s watching reality television.

It is truly horrible, and is somewhat akin to a ‘train wreck’.  Why, then, do we watch it?  And why on earth am I watching it?

Currently, where I live, there was a show called ‘Married at first sight’.  Going by the title, you can guess the premise, two people are matched by ‘science’ (or perhaps by the number and size of the tattoos they have) and meet for the first time at the altar.  They then live together, with and without external influences for a number of weeks before deciding if they want to continue after the show ends.

As it happens, the experts here have yet to get it right in a number of series (or, I think they may have succeeded on one occasion).

Whilst the fact it looks to be scripted, a fact the Producers vehemently deny, it is impossible to wrap your head around some of the antics, and especially the words used by the ‘participants’.  Decent people do not ‘act’ in the manner of some of these people, and more often than not, several of the ‘participants’ are labeled by the public as ‘actors’.

I guess, in most reality television, ratings can only be achieved by controversy.

Certainly, the Twitterverse goes off after an episode, championing the good and railing into the bad.  Each will, good or bad, get their fifteen minutes of fame.

And, is it not surprising we have learned one of the participants is going to write a ‘no holds barred’ account of her time in the show, but given the fact all participants have to sign an NDA,  I don’t whether it will ever hit the bookstores.

I was considering doing the same, from an armchair perspective.   But, sadly, when I thought about it, it would never sell.  No one could believe or even identify with the antics these people get up to.

It’s the reason why Big Brother disappeared.

But, never fear, there’s a new disaster, I mean series, on TV called Love Island.  I’ve seen the promos.  Perhaps I should leave it at that!

Briarpatch: Another of those quirky USA network shows

I’m still reeling from the car bomb that exploded across the screen in the first few minutes, leaving not only two rather lowly tenants but the viewers shocked.

It’s an event that brings the older sister of the victim, both apparently a rent collector and a policewoman, of the bombing.

Two points to note, only small planes land at the airport, the town is deep in the heart of Texas, and it is very, very hot, even at night. How do we know this, there is always a sign showing the temperature in degrees Fahrenheit. As it the sweaty faces didn’t give it away.

This is a slow burner, and has, for now, a recurrent theme of zoo animals on the loose, and, in particular, a tiger.

There is also a plate of uneaten food outside the room next to said sister’s room. It’s significance, in one respect, is at the end.

But, as I said, it’s slow to play out the nuances.

The sister is a senatorial investigator, though she doesn’t elaborate. This means she will get to kick some butts, and the first, a visiting senator who is also, well, a friend of sorts.

The Chief of Detectives and a Captain in charge of the investigation don’t seem to know very much, especially as to who had killed her.

And no one can say how the dead sister came to be so wealthy, or where she really lived.

We meet a few old acquaintances, and there it sizzles in the late-night Texan heat till the end.

Yep, another running theme, someone getting blown up in a car bomb.

Let’s hope it doesn’t happen every week, or by the end of the series, San Bonifacio, Texas will become just another ghost town.

Conversations with my cat – 80

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This is Chester. We’re back watching the Maple Leafs.

This isn’t going to be pretty. While they have won a few in the last week or so they have also lost, and by large numbers.

I know this is a mistake watching it with Chester, the eternal pessimist, because his initial statement, ‘You know Anderson’s going to let you down again’ even before the match started, is a sign of things to come.

Yep. There it is 21 seconds into the game the other side scores.

Damn.

He turns his head and gives me the look, “I told you so.”

Double damn.

Nothing worse than a smart-ass cat is there, and especially when he’s right.

The game progresses, and then the internet dies on me, leaving a frozen screen. Bigger fish to fry now, with the internet provider, where we are, the NBN, which is little more than a joke. Try streaming anything…

It’s the same result.

Pixellation, blank screens, endless loading signs and then a seized screen.

Good.

For once I don’t mind because I don’t have to listen to the negativity.

Yes, they score again. And again. And yes, once again we’re looking down the barrel of another huge loss.

“Just what is wrong with your goalie,” Chester asks.

“Too many games and not enough faith in the backup, I guess.”

It’s hard to explain wat’s going wrong. I don’t know the ins and outs of the Toronto team because we’re not there. It’s the lot of a supporter whose 12,000 miles away.

Perhaps our year will be next year.

Chester doesn’t think so. Halfway through the third period, he walks off, the internet giving up the ghost. We all know how this end, don’t we, he says.

Yes. We do. The food you hate the most is in your tray.

Revenge doesn’t sound as good as it did in my head a few minutes ago.

Triple Damn.

Star Wars, Star Wars, and more Star Wars

To get ourselves into the mood to go and see the final episode of Star Wars, the rise of Skywalker, we sat down and watched all of the previous eight episodes.

Despite the fact our viewing of Star Wars, like everyone else, started with Episode Four, many, many years ago, this time around we started with Episode One.

Now, when this second set of three episodes started, we didn’t go to the cinema to see them. I think at the time, we’d heard a lot of negative comments about them, centered around a character called Jar Jar Binks, and that was enough.

I did hear sometime later some fans had created a version of the movie with that character completely edited out. I’m still yet to find it.

But, this time we started with One, and it didn’t take long to get tired of Binks, and his appearances were a perfect time to get coffee, drinks or a snack.

It was also interesting to see the origins of ObiOne Kenobi, who had been an older version called Ben Kenobi in Four. And we got to see the Clone Wars, another myth in Four brought to reality in Two and Three.

Lets hope, in reality, we never come to see the likes of robots fighting wars on the scale these movies present.

Additionally, we got to see, in the first three, the birth of Leia and Luke, how they came to be separated, and how they finished up where they were at the start of Four. It was just a shame Padme never lived to see them.

The first three episodes were hard work in the viewing, but they filled in the back story for the next three, how Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader, and how the Senate Leader, who was secretly a Sith, became the charred looking, gravelly-voiced Emperor.

But after seeing the first two of the third series, something became obvious. Jedi were not born Jedi, they were just ordinary people who had that life force that gave them their powers running strong in their being. Annikin was one. Rae is another. I’m not sure about Ben Solo who had one Jedi parent. That was never fully explained.

That should mean, despite all this rambling by the Emperor and others that the Jedi are extinct, that’s completely and utterly wrong. It’s a large universe and there have to be many, many candidates.

This means that Star Wars could run forever.

A bit like Yoda, really. Interesting that he can still move mountains even after death. I guess a Jedi doesn’t die, well not in the sense that we do. But, then, how could you kill off a cute character like Yoda?

So, eight down, we have only one to go. It should run to the formula. The good Jedi faces off against the bad Jedi and good triumphs over evil. Planets are destroyed by Deathstars, Deathstars are destroyed by single fighters, and we have the awards ceremony at the end with much singing and dancing.

I’ll let you know once I’ve seen it. I will not be reading a recap of the movie before going.

Merry Christmas

For all those who celebrate Christmas

or,

Happy Holidays

for those who don’t.

But we do, and every year it is a day where the grandchildren come over and open presents, and then we have lunch.  Yes, I’m always hoping to add to the book collection.

Sometimes we have it elsewhere but this year it is at home.

After lunch, it is that time when we watch the soppy Christmas movies like White Christmas with Bing Crosby

And then it’s another year gone, and all to look forward to next year.

After of course the boxing day sales.

Conversations with my cat – 67

This is Chester. He’s come down from his bed in our bedroom to see what the commotion is about.

He stops at the top of the stairs down into the lounge room and sees the TV.

I might have guessed, the Maple Leafs are playing, he says.

Yep, I say, gleefully, and they’re winning.

Its not over until you know what…

Way to be a spoilsport. Stop complaining and take a seat. It’s a new day, a new coach, and a new invigoration in the team.

He sits and does that wrap around thing with his tail that indicates irritability.

Don’t get your hopes up, he says. And shouldn’t you be out in the office working on your NaNoWriMo project.

Under control I say. It’s practically writing itself.

Is that a shake of his head?

NaNoWriMo Day Fourteen

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Distractions, distractions…

You guessed it, the Maple Leaf’s are playing the New York Islanders, and it’s not going to be pretty.

It’s made worse by the fact Chester has decided to barrack for the Islanders.

Turncoat!

But, it gives me an idea to dig myself out of a plot hole, and there’s more scribbling before I go to the master plan, now on the computer, and can easily move things around.

I was writing yesterday, and somehow my mind took the story off on a tangent.

Sleeping on it, it led to another part, and then will neatly fold back into the masterplan later on.  It’s a twist no one will see coming, simply because I didn’t, at first.

As of last night, my word count is sitting on 25,044 words, which is good and gives me a buffer in case I get a blockage of some sort.

Today’s word count looks like it will be about 1,400 words.

The Maple Leafs are 2 to 0 down, and I think I’ll change the channel to a repeat of Murdoch Mysteries.

All I have to do is get the channel changer out from under the cat.

Maybe not.

 

Conversations with my cat – 62

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This is Chester.  You wouldn’t think he would have an interest in horse racing.

But…

He does.  Today, in Australia, is the day the Melbourne Cup is run.  It seems to be the biggest thing on the racing calendar, not only in Melbourne but the rest of the country.

Chester, as usual, doesn’t seem to think it’s all that great.

He wants to know why the cat races are not televised.

What cat races?

It seems he had been watching Fox Sports, and there’s dog races, greyhounds he says.

I’ve heard of them, even went once or twice when we lived in Melbourne, where there was a dog race track.

\Well, he says, if they can race dogs, they can race cats.

I appear a little sceptical.  What are they going to chase?

Mice.

Isn’t that a little cruel, I mean, you’ll get the animal rights people up in arms.

Over mice, he snorts.  No one likes mice.  But if it’s a problem, why not rats?  Everyone hates rats.

So, I say, you’re up for it then.  We could make a killing.

A shake of the head, and nose in the air.  “Of course not, I’m a pedigree cat.  That’s for the alley cats.  I’ll be watching from the Royal box thankyou.”