Television

This one makes me think of those parents whose kids start speaking late in life, battle through school and generally just don't reach their potential.

Television
by Roald Dahl

The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did

The teabag poem

Another one of my favourites:

"l'd like to be a teabag,
And stay at home all day -
And talk to other teabags
In a teabag sort of way . . .

l'd love to be a teabag;
And lie in a little box -
And never have to wash my face
Or change my dirty socks . . .

l'd like to be a teabag,
An Earl Grey one perhaps,
And doze all day and lie around
With Earl Grey kind of chaps.

l wouldn't have to do a thing,
No homework, jobs or chores -
Comfy in my caddy
Of teabags and their snores.

l wouldn't have to do exams
l needn't tidy rooms,
Or sweep the floor or feed the cat
Or wash up all the spoons.

l wouldn't have to do a thing,
A life of bliss - you see . . .
Except that once in all my life
I`d make a cup of tea!"

Peter Dixon

Mashed potato love poem

I have decided to share some of my favourite poems by various authors. This is one of them:

"If I ever had to choose between you and a third helping of mashed potato (whipped lightly with a fork, not whisked, with a little pool of butter melting in the middle...)
I think
I'd choose
the mashed potato.

But I'd choose you next."

Sidney Hoddes

Who to invite and who not to invite

Planning a wedding is a lot of fun. I've heard about how it's so stressful, etc and maybe yes, later on when Aunty soandso finds out that she isn't invited and it starts a fight with Uncle whatisface because he said she would get drunk and strip during the ceremony, it may begin to get a little tense.

The thing is this, I have a big family. I don't always speak to everyone or see everyone and although I'm friends with most of them on FB, we don't communicate much.

Now like most people, we put EVERYBODY on the list, looked at the cost and decided to cut, cut, cut. The question is: Who?

If somebody invited you to their wedding, are you automatically obligated to invite them to yours?
If you invite some of the first cousins that you speak to and associate with more regularly, are you obligated to invite all of the other first cousins?
If you have a group of friends, but are closer to some than others, are you obligated to invite everyone in the group?

Obviously we can invite whoever we want to and feelings will be hurt and squabbles will be had but is there some sort of absolute rule when it comes to these things? Like, if you haven't spoken to someone, regardless of the connection for more than 2 months, 4 hours and 56 minutes, they can be cut? Is there anything like that? It would help so much! If not, one should be started! I'm not starting it though, somebody else should; Somebody who is already married!

It would be lovely to invite everyone but we sadly lost our money tree in the move and now the guilt and difficulty in deciding who to cut is unavoidable.

Comments regarding this would be most appreciated.

Forgiving and forgetting just isn't an option sometimes

It's been a bit over a month now since my friend, Kerry, was killed in a car accident. For you to understand my frustration fully, let me tell you a little about Kerry.

I met Kerry at work. She was very different to other people. Very innocent in her thinking yet surprisingly wise about things you'd think she knew nothing about.

Kerry loved to laugh and tease and just generally make people feel good. She was always there if you needed a voice of reason or a hug or just a mischief companion.

Kerry was also very devoted to her church and her beliefs and lived her life in such a manner as there was no mistaking what she stood for. I didn't always agree but I respected her for staying so true to her values.

On the Wednesday evening, Kerry drove to a church meeting in Benoni. While she was doing this and in her meeting, 2 guys sat in some pub or some restaurant or some place somewhere getting drunk.

At around 9pm, Kerry left the church and started to head home. At the same time, these two drunk men climbed into a black BMW and raced through Benoni town, not bothering to stop at the red traffic lights.

As Kerry was crossing a main road in Benoni where the light was green for her in a Ford Bantam Bakkie with no airbags or major safety features , the BMW came screaming at over 100km through the red light and T-boned her car from the passenger side.

All 6 airbags were deployed inside the BMW and the driver and passenger were uninjured.
Kerry, however, suffered head trauma and had broken ribs and was unconscious and not breathing.

Her uncle and cousin had been driving just in front of her and had seen the accident and were able to notify the paramedics immediately.
Kerry was put onto a ventilator and taken to hospital where her family were told that she would most likely not make it.

Kerry remained in a coma for 3 weeks with bruising and swelling around her brain and swelling in the rest of her body.

She was somewhat responsive whilst in her coma which gave us all hope. I went to see her and held her hand and spoke to her and told her how we all loved her and missed her and wanted her to wake up. She squeezed my hand and I was positive that she would wake up and be back to teasing us all in no time.

Kerry started making progress after 3 weeks and was moved off the ventilator and into a normal ward.
After two days, she died from a blood clot on her lung.

I was so angry and puzzled and upset about her sudden passing and although I knew that she was pain free and was in a better place, etc, it angered me that somebody who lived such a good and pure life was murdered by people on a drunken joyride!

I asked her family members if anything had happened to the driver and they couldn't tell me much except that the car had been reported stolen and hijacked a few hours after the incident. The two men had fled from the hospital and had yet to be seen.

I was told that I should just let it go with regards to the men who killed her and find it in my heart to forgive them.

I can forgive most people for most things but this is something I find extremely difficult to let go of. I am not divine, I am human and I am angry.

I do not call many people friends and call even fewer close friends but she was one of these and she had her promising life ripped away from her and all of us here who loved her and for what?! It's not fair and yes, life is not fair but sometimes it isn't because we don't let it be.

I know it will never bring her back if they sit and rot in jail forever but it will prevent them from causing any further tragedies.

On the subject of drunk driving:

I am not even asking, I am begging those people who are social drinkers, please, if you've had too much, please do not drive. For the sake of your friends, your loved ones and for the sake of everyone else who has a friend or loved one out on the roads at the same time as you.

Please also be a real friend to your friends and don't just phone them later to make sure that they got home alright, rather advise them not to drive home and organize alternate, sober transport.

Alcohol impairs judgement and affects a persons motor skills and although someone may think they're fine, they are very possibly not. Alcohol also takes an hour to be processed by the liver into the bloodstream so by the time a person feels a little drunk, they have already had too much.

Please drink responsibly.

T'was a dark and relatively overcast night a long time ago

(Since our last burglary incident, and with the insurance not having
replaced the door yet, I was forced to sleep on a mattress in my
parent's room as my door wouldn't close anymore, let alone lock. The
story takes place there)

I was lying there all trying to sleep and stuff when I heard a noise that sounded like somebody walking on the roof!

I sat up and said "Do you hear that?" but alas, their snoring bellowed
even louder in their ears than it did mine.
Later, I heard lots of cutlery moving! They were coming to
hack us to pieces!
"Did you hear THAT?" but once again, only my ears seemed sharp enough
for the tin-ey tinkle of knives and forks being selectively sifted
through until the perfect size, shape and pointyness was found.
Suddenly, they clumsily bashed into the wall with their selection in
hand. It was big! Nothing compares to the sound of a knife clumsily
being hit against the wall, the sound is simply unmistakable.
"You MUST'VE heard that!" By now, I was annoyed that I would be the
only one being chopped up without pleasant thoughts beforehand.
"MOM! Push the friggin' panic button!"
"Eh? But why?"
"Are you in some sort of sleepy daze?! Pass it here, I'll push it!"

And then I heard them go the wrong way down the passage. They had
donned squeaky shoes suddenly! How DARE they put squeaky shoes on! The
absolute audacity to add some childish humour to their brutal attack
was making me angry.

And then the fireworks started. Huh? In the passage?

Eventually I got up, marched over to the panic button but was stopped half
way by an indistinguishable sound...my dad's breathing. I stopped and
just listened. It changed from sounding like some sort of injured
animal to fireworks to cutlery and then, lo and behold, squeaky shoes!

How relieved I was that it was just my dad's peculiar breathing I'd been hearing and not someone wearing squeaky shoes armed with a knife and fireworks coming to murder us!

The walking on the roof was long gone. Probably somebody taking a short cut to rob the house next door.

When people shove religion and sex at you

I had recently re-established contact with a friend and at first our
polite and friendly chit chat was great!
However, it was starting to seem as if she was steering me in
the direction of religion.
No, you don't understand. She's not a bible-puncher, she'll outright knock your lights out with it! I kid you not!
I was just waiting for the email that asked if I'd "found Jesus yet?" I had a few responses in mind including, "Is he hiding?", "No, why? Did you pack him into my stuff when I moved? Is that legal?" and "Yes, he was here a minute ago. Said he'd be right back for me but don't say anything, you're not meant to know that you're
not invited." O.k, I didn't but this was going to get weird and awkward
and I didn't want that.
Actually, I had another idea. There was this chop at work who called me
'Nigella'. It's from that KFC ad. Anyway, he was bordering on
a slap but instead I got his number and got her to phone him and teach him to right his wrongful ways.

I used to think that people could be divided into a few distinct categories: Those who are married and need a new hobby and so they become over-religious, those who are married and normal, those who would desperately do anything to be married, those who would desperately do anything to be normal, those who would desperately do
anything not to be married, those who just desperately do anything and those who are just normal. And me. And probably you too.