|Jowly Jim has sympathetic angst with me|
Must. Buy. Fecking. Lottery. Ticket. Even if the jackpot is less than 20 million dollars.
Hate this feeling. I so hate this feeling. HATE - such an unproductive emotion, but when channelled correctly, it can be cathartic, vindicating and generally pleasing. The trick is knowing when and how to channel it.
Right - Richard Strauss is not doing it for me today - it's back to Mozart. The Requiem, of course. For the death throes of winter.
|Crows perched waiting to take ones eyes out...|
|SGI sent to think over its sins in the corner|
So there you have it, stochastic gossip illicitation. However, some refinement in the technique is needed because it didn't work and BK quickly switched over to bribery - so the deal is, I will provide him with all the details he wants to know in exchange for a VW EOS, but only when the EOS is delivered into my parking spot. We'll see when that happens, but if I were you, I wouldn't hold your breath - well unless you want to.
|The sap quotient rises...|
Right then. Enough. I must do something about my cold feet. BK says that I should invest in Pugs because they're bred to sit on Emperor feet to keep them warm. From there, we wandered (at least, I did, I'm not sure that BK actually kept up - he was probably humouring me) from Pugs to Emperors and the whim and power of Emperors to command behaviours, except that I pointed out that commanded behaviour comes from fear, not love and in time will likely lead to selected beheading, and that's my point exactly: Cold feet will lead to losing your head.