Disconnected Jottings

 

 

 

 

 

  Now don't get too excited about these books, but you'll need to go and buy your personal set before they sell out.    

 

 From Home Depot. Waterproof. Nothing but the best for her.  

  I managed to snag a copy. Gonna be some real good readin' tonight.            

  He wouldn't be selling it if he didn't need the money. Italy's money system is the Euro. One Euro = $1.08. 10,000 Euros = $10,792.62.    

 

  After six months of strenuous training in secret, the new team of seven astronauts is ready to roll. This venture will be similar to other space journeys but with one big difference: They will all be nude, well, not totally nude; they will be wearing helmets. They decided on a name for themselves. It came down to a toss between two names: Astronudes or Nudinauts. They settled on the former name. The capsule being prepared for them has smooth, heavy duty plastic seat covers which will help them stick to their seats during the launch, rather than sliding around, possibly injuring themselves. For their meals, they have been training on remanufactured cornflakes because that is what they will mostly be eating for their stay on the moon, that and liver sandwiches.    

  Discipline is tough at the Vatican      

 

 Since I bought a Panasonic point and shoot camera, I have neglected my big Nikon with the interchangeable lenses, so when I put a fresh battery in it, I found that I couldn't remember how to use its many functions. But I dug into it, put a wide angle lens on it, and came up with this.    

  If I was a journalist...   I would write about things the way I honestly see them. This won't please everyone, of course, because we all see things differently.   Then along comes a man of high rank, and says my news is fake. I can let that go. But then he does it again and again, and he never gives examples of what is fake.   After a while, and human nature being what it is, if someone keeps attacking me, I'm going to fight back. Bear in mind that there are many thousands of journalists, all writing news as they see it, and many being accused of publishing fake news if the man of high rank doesn't agree with it.   Enough is enough! As a journalist I'm now going to dig up every piece of dirt I can find on the person of high rank. I'll even add my own twist to my writing, knowing full well that it's going to aggravate him. Well, if he's going to accuse me of being a fake, I might as well live up to it. Now if I was a person of high rank, and some parts of m

 Facebook won't allow this to be seen.    

  If you can't trust pope Frank's words, whose can you trust. It's good enough for me.    

 I used it in my home, and now I don't have a single hamster running around.    

  I was wondering if I could take a lovely smile and ruin it. I can, and I'm proud of it.    

 

 

 

 Two new titles by Rubella James    

  I wonder why there's no toilet paper in there.    

 This would get me locked out of Facebook.    

 The censors at ReTalk refuse to allow this picture to be posted because they say it's porn. And it's not the first time I've had a problem with them. It's a third party that does the checking, probably with antiquated software that doesn't know an ass from an elbow. (ReTalk has now shut down.)

 Try it! It's a lot of fun   .

 Workers are installing storm water drains near my home and had dug a pile of dirt. I photographed it and added some sky and a truck.

I recall a pleasant afternoon when I was six years old. An ice cream truck had stopped near my home. My mummy gave me four pennies to buy an ice cream. As I ran toward the truck, a French bugger stopped me. "Bonjour, little m'sieur," he said. "I perceive you are going to buy ice cream, but please allow me to double your money, first." The thought of being able to buy two ice creams tempted me. He bent lower and held his hand out, flatly, and told me to lay  my pennies on the palm of his hand. I did so. Then he placed his other hand over the top of the pennies and rubbed his hands in a circular motion. He then removed his hand, and my pennies were gone. He laughed and began to walk away. "Why did you do that?" I cried. "Je suis un bugeer Francais... I am a French bugger," he declared. "I am a member of the French Bugger's Union and I do as I please." I ran back to my home and told my mummy what the French bugger did, and I told h

I like to edit people's photos especially those taken in an art gallery. This one is of a lady in a London art gallery, standing in front of a portrait of Sir Winston Churchill.    

  A lady in a London art gallery. She was standing in front of a portrait of king George V. I changed it to a bar fight.    

  A New Jersey man traveled to Delaware and stole twenty-eight pairs of Nike shoes. He later returned to the store and took another nine pairs of Nike shoes. Police reviewed the store surveillance and recognized him. The New Jersey state police arrested him and extradited him to Delaware to face the felony charges. Thirty-seven pairs of shoes were valued at almost $4,000. I ran that through my calculator to get the average price, and here is what the calculator showed. I did it a few times because I thought there was something wrong with it. I checked math with the Windows 10 calculator and it's the same.    

 Facebook's algorithm would probably see this as nudity, remove it and lock me out. They removed a photo and threatened to lock me out if I posted it, again. It had no nudity in it and nothing that could be construed as violating their community rules. Their algorithm is far from perfect but it will lock you out.

  I posted a comment on Yahoo, a few days ago, and I've just been notified it has been rejected. 'Scientists' claim that same-sex relationships between monkeys helps them father more offspring. I disputed it but it's no longer acceptable to go against the 'scientists' who are so wise.    

  The poem about Little Bo Peep was written in 1805, and as reported, she was short, not little. That makes sense because it's unlikely a little girl would be tending sheep. The name 'Bo' intrigues me. I had a friend known as 'Bo' whose name was Robert. It's possible, then, that the person we think of as a little girl, was actually a short male  named Robert. Little Robert Peep has lost his sheep. That makes more sense but if Bo Peep was actually a short male, why was he posing as a little girl? Could he have been a transgender around the turn of the nineteenth century? Yet it's only well into the twenty-first century that so many are coming out as transgender. I have, now, decided there will be no more renditions of Little Bo Peep in my home. Anyway, onto the subject of a mouse running up a clock: Was its name really Hickory Dickory Dock? And who would give a mouse such a name?

  Between a rock and a hard place. It was the only toilet Ben had in his house.    

Learning the new camera. I'm amazed at what it can do. This picture is about focus stacking. The left photo of the dial caliper is out of focus at the far end; that is normal. Then if I set it on Post Focus, it brings both ends into focus after the photo is shot, as shown in the right picture. Normally, several photos have to be taken and then stacking software used to stack them and bring out all the sharp points.        

  Everyone has their own idea of what constitutes art. For me, Picasso's and Hunter Biden's paintings are garbage. At the risk of seeming conceited, mine rates just a tad above theirs.    

  I saw a picture of a fake hundred-dollar bill, and liked Ben Franklin's face. It wasn't even a whole bill, only a part of it but my picture editing program refused to open it, and a notice popped up to say why. Evidently, no editing program is allowed to open it, to prevent the copying of genuine bills. But it's obvious I wasn't trying to edit a genuine bill, and all I wanted to do was to clip Ben's portrait.   I went online to find out why picture editors won't touch even comical treasury bills, and they said there's no way around it. I turned the photo upside down. Still my editor wouldn't let me touch it. I turned it into a negative and still no go. So what to do? I took a nap, and then an idea hit me: print it on my printer, then cut it out. I did that then scanned it into my editing program. Here's my finished picture and the one my editor wouldn't touch.    

 

 

  While riding down the road, this evening, I couldn't help noticing a billboard ad for two lawyers is still up there. I do think it's time for something else; I'm fed up looking at their lawyer faces. Then I began to think: They practice law and are known as lawyers. What about bricklayers? Why aren't they called brickyers? And painters... paintyers? Plumbers... plumbyers? Popes... popeyers? It's just lawyers who want to be called 'lawyers' because they think they're better than everyone else.  And, yes, I edited the billboard photo a bit.    

 

When I moved from London to the east coast, I finished high school there. My form master was Mr. Wallen, a former naval officer, and he must have been close to retirement. He'd say things like, "Peter the Great stuck his nose in a plate." Then he'd laugh. I also saw him deal with two unruly boys from another class. After lunch they stood before him and he yelled at them. Then he hauled off and smacked their faces so hard that it's a wonder he didn't cause them a neck injury. Anyway, Peter the Great was on my mind so I looked for a picture about him.