Wednesday, September 11, 2019

And may the High King of Glory grant him the mange. . .

That's the tail end of a lovely little poem  (by whom? Is it Flann O'Brien?  I've forgotten.  But it sounds like him).  And, yes, you're right: it is supposed to be a curse.

And why is a curse possibly by Flann O'Brien buying a ticket on my train of thought this morning?  It's because of this.  It seems therein that a retail establishment by the name of "Forever 21" has bought the economic farm and is poised to file for bankruptcy.   They have a shop not too far from here and I have always been a little amazed by that title.  It must appeal to some people,  although apparently not nearly enough of them.  But it has always seemed to me to be some sort of bizarre curse.   It sounds like the sort of retail shop that Rod Serling would've created.

One does wish all the best for the employees.  I've been in their position.  It's not pleasant.  But "Forever 21"?  Never understood that.  Perhaps if they'd just called it Matuschek & Co.?

Monday, September 02, 2019

Labor Day - 1 September 2019

“I was on holiday, and was engaged in that rich and intricate mass of pleasures, duties, and discoveries which for keeping off of the profane, we disguise by the exotic name of Nothing.”
-- GK Chesterton,  “Some Policemen and a Moral,” Tremendous Trifles 

Find out more about G.K. Chesterton at here.