OXFORD: “Watch me make 68 reasons to extend my fistic phenotype into Richard Dawkins’ improbable ego!” says a blindly delusional Payton L. Inkletter.

Be all that as it may, meanwhile:

In other news…

26^th to 28^th March 2009:

Thursday: I needed the over twelve hours sleep, yet even so it made little difference to how I felt. The highlight of this day, as always, was the visit by the Babies Ink&Peggletter, although is suppose I should mention the fact that, at least for Missus InkleI’vegotthosebedroomeyes – lookoutPayton!, there was another highlight, for during the afternoon she dragged me into her boudoir (or perhaps I had not even managed to escape it after being awakened from my slumbers) and ravished me repeatedly and without mercy.

After being cast aside like a banana peel, I helped Missus InkleI’mthemostsatisfiedwoman – ineitherhemisphere to vacuum and prepare for the Babies’ visit for din dins, on the evening of this warmish day. First they had called in to Pa pree’s to return his computer which Baby Peggletter had very kindly worked on for many hours to restore to working order. The WinXP system had seized up for reasons best known to it. We enjoyed a delicious meal courtesy of the efforts of Janny, and played ‘Taboo’, which happens to be a big favourite of mine. Baby Peggletter and I let the girls win.

The Babies returned Pa pree about eleven, when they left for home, and Janny and I watched some of my regular programs, being the tail end of Lateline, and then Lateline Business, before Letterman. Leigh Sales did another one of those interviews where the beautiful lass positively glows, this one with Tom Friedman. Now if ever a person should be happy with the interview he got on Lateline, Tom Friedman should be, for Leigh kindly gave him very long slabs uninterrupted to tell it his way, and I tip my hat to her, for he was doing a very good job of articulating his viewpoint. He got to promote his latest book, ‘Hot, Flat and Crowded’ also; I am impressed already by the title, for he uses the Oxford comma, bless his literate socks. He had some good advice for Obama, namely to give his people a fireside chat like FDR did. Friedman has a good sense of humour. He was spot on with the four letter word analogy for Cheney and Bush regarding ‘conservation’.

I went for a late walk, and eventually got to bed, after the usual health problem hassles, not too long before dawn.

+paytontedwithlove+

27^th March 2009:

Friday: About eleven saw this child of the imagination arise, but Missus InklewhoopygutsmadeworsebyByetta had to stay in the boudoir slumbering till almost one o’clock, to try to control her nausea. I did a few jobs indoors, watered outside, and then showered and left for Bob’s on this hot day, high thirties Celsius no less.

He was surprised to see me half an hour earlier than usual of late, and we trained to the city, where he had a ball collecting his freebies, purchasing his couple of treats, and then his takeaway lunch, which he had down in the beautiful Supreme Court Gardens. Some big turkey court case was ending, with a million folk leaving the court, and a Channel Seven camera man hanging around like a curious squirrel. I managed to check out the progress of a couple of new culms on the last remaining Bambusa balcoa clump not far from the front of the court, and they have made great height since four weeks ago, and are huge in girth. I look forward to one day having my own attain such splendour. We caught the Blue CAT for our cruise around the city this time, and Bob was very happy with that. As usual he was a constant chatterbox, yet staff tell me he often doesn’t say boo at home. Thus I am an outlet.

I left him back at Guildford about seven, and got petrol on my way home, noticing that we are in an upward trend again with fuel prices. I caught much of Stateline with the frilly knickered lizard – Janny, not Ms Carmody – and we felt like lynching Matt Birney, who Rebecca Carmody interviewed regarding his planned ‘Yes’ campaign for daylight saving. The Collectors was a top show as always, but is it my imagination, or did Andy Muirhead look like he had had a hard night on the hops the before the day’s filming? My Janny didn’t guess the Mystery Object; once she was almost 100%. I was most impressed with the artworks Lucia creates, laboriously, from rubbish; they look great, particulary the colourful patterns from cans.

I had to grab a couple of hours sleep, but not before catching some of the program on SBS about the highly laudable approach of the Fletcher Jones clothing company toward their staff. I recorded the latter part of it and hope to watch it sometime. [Back from the little bit later update: the good old useless piece of crap that’s our Panasonic DMR ES15 DVD Recorder decided to spit the dummy again at the completion of its recording, and I had to lever the effing tray open with a screwdriver to get it to eject the disc! Whether I’ll recover the recordings with the computer I don’t know, but can only hope…]

By arrangement Janny woke me from a deep slumber in time for me to watch Lateline, and I suffered along with poor Leigh Sales as she interviewed that precious former Australian Foreign Minister, Alexander Downer. It seems only yesterday the Christopher Pyne-like creep was prancing around the global stage; and then in the lead up to the election of 2007 he was found fulminating often against the audacity of the then Opposition for daring to suggest they might have a go at governing Australia. As for his very possibly correct assertion that ‘Kevin Rudd's main interest in life is how he plays out on the evening news’, the problem is, that doesn’t differentiate Kevin Rudd from Howard, Turnbull, Downer, you name him or her; we are talking modern politicians after all.

I also watched Letterman, and because I have not been specific most of this week with his show, I will make mention here of the things this week I would normally note on the day:

Letterman’s marriage episode was most enjoyable, and I like the way he appears to have sprung it as a big surprise on most everyone. He was funny when he pretended that things feel different now that he’s married. I think the following night he had as his guest Mary Tyler Moore, who sure looks a bit frail these days, and may have some nervous system disorder from her behaviour, poor dear. She asked Dave where his ring is, and I wish I could remember his answer. Also a repeat this week was the show I missed the week U2 were on every night, their last night in fact. I can only say that Bono reminds me of a little penis high on sugar, with a partially permanently retracted foreskin, necessitating its need to wear sunglasses. He owes so much to the rest of the band.

Christina Applegate was a brave sport talking about her double mastectomy, poor thing for having to undergo that. Brian Kiley was a funny fellow, with witty humour, but his delivery and speed needs working on, or, at least, this appearance on Letterman could have benefited from such. Hugh Laurie proves, effortlessly, once again that he rarely meets his intellectual match, and I was not aware of what a tiny budgerigar is Norah Jones! If she was any tinier, she’d have to perform behind a giant glasses lens. Jim Gaffigan was another new one for me, and I would like to see some of his comedy, judging from his short time in the seat with Letterman. Was it my imagination, but did Jason Segel have unusually pink hands? He said he was nervous, if I recall, but Janny and I both noted his hands seemed to be unnaturally reddish, as if he was not too at ease. Speaking of being ill at ease, wasn’t that pretty creature Blake Lively this week almost very funny when she divulged that she was obsessing, and always does, about health matters, such as blood pressure and a million other things, and Dave identified with her (it is entirely possible I have the wrong gal, but it was a young woman this week on Letterman, I do know that; checking out the Letterman website I’m faced with not recalling the woman I think it was looking like Blake Lively, but then that’s not a reliable guide, believe me ). [Back from the future update: I did perservere on The Late Show’s site, and it is not Blake Lively to whom I’m referring, rather it is Sarah Paulson! I also learned that she is, in the words of, should, I imagine he be asked, Stephen Fry, ‘a pussy basher’.]

I went for a late walk, and but before doing so I sent a long email to Baby Inkletter in extended reply to a partial correlation she found between an aspect of the Jehovah’s Witnesses’ doctrine and another religious source. Most fascinating what has found its way into the Bible despite it being so much of a fallible human work.

I got to bed before six, but not a long way before, and the frilly knickered lizard was bright and chirpy, not finding sleep easy at that time, so we chatted while the soft and warm little thaing cuddled me, and I don’t blame her one bit.

+paytontedwithlove+

28^th March 2009:

Saturday: Not only is it Sarrerdi folks, but it’s the last day of the stinking effing THREE year effing stinking daylight stinking effing saving effing stinking trial; Matt Birney and John D’Orazio may you live in interesting times. The chalcedony crocodile woke me at one o’clock as agreed so I could take the little people all over the countryside shopping, which expedition began at two o’clock, when we picked up Pa pree and headed north to Alaska, no, I meant Spotlight at Joondalup, before back to the DVD shop at VideoEzy Girrawheen for Janny’s essential supplies – in fairness to the chalky chameleon, she’s only been once or twice there this whole year to date, and she’s expecting to be laid up for days when she gets the million inch long needle in her back on Monday, and wants some movies to watch while she convalesces – before calling in at our local Dewsons’ for the final shop till they drop onslaught. I remained in the car the whole time reading and minding my own business. Oh well, such is the lot of the long distance taxi driver…

I did a tad of writing once back, then spent an hour outside in the back garden doing catch up work, for I’ve done so little this past week. Before I knew where I was it was seven o’clock and My Beloved time, followed by some Funniest Home Videos during the sport. I left the delinquents to themselves after watching the beginning of an animated wonder on free to air called ‘Hoodwinked’. I wrote away on the past several days of this here diary, before returning Pa pree to his place after ten o’clock, where I reinstalled his sound card drivers and setup his printer again since Baby Peggletter got his poota running again.

I broke down on my return home and ate too many chocolate coated peanuts with a cup of tea, before heading back to the keyboard for another half an hour, then watched my second ever ‘Ripping Yarns’ with Janny. This one was about an escaping British prisoner of war in Germany in 1917, and as was the last, it was a hoot. Michael Palin is a natural.

Once again, after smothering the alabaster dragon with kisses following buttering her trotters with spikenard, I left her reading in bed and returned to finally finish getting this diary up to date. I then had to attend to some health problems, in preparation, hopefully, for a walk on this slightly devil windy night… Which did happen – a good walk, although I was mighty pushed to keep up any kind of pace worthy of the name.

A lovely hot shower was just what the doctor ordered upon my return, and I’m currently, having just finished said shower, and spoken to the rapacious reptile up for her tinkle and reheating of the wheat pack for thigh pain relief, and enjoyed a teaspoon of my delicious Jingilli Devine cold pressed and super chaste olive oil, back at the keyboard preparing to finish this very paragraph and make a dual posting or four to my blog pages. I could sleep, but I have much more writing I’d like to get done on Venty Still.

Oh, before I leave this page, let me put a copy of my Letter to the Editor of Western Australia’s Sunday Times, which didn’t get published last week, about daylight saving:

Letter to the Editor:

Nail on the head, Mal McFetridge! (“Try WA’s system,” TST, March 15). Why should one ‘yes’ referendum institute daylight saving forever, while three ‘no’s aren’t taken for an answer?

Maybe social engineers like Matt Birney and John D’Orazio should have made the trial ten years, or even twenty, to amortize the cost of the referendum, and rub their disdain for us the more into our faces.

Payton L. Inkletter (address supplied)

For the billions of daily visitors to my blog who aren’t from Western Australia, the aforementioned politicians foisted a three year trial upon us before a referendum coming in May, having just completed the three year trial today. We have in my lifetime voted ‘No’ at three previous referenda after single year trials. It is estimated that the referendum will cost ten million dollars, and no other questions are being put to us.

I must admit to being happy with the extra hour turning our clocks back this night has given; it’s the only plus I think daylight saving has.

I didn't get to Venty Still, which doesn't surprise me, but it does frustrate me. I became too tired to write, so I made myself a hot mug of skim milk and read the paper. 'Twas after eight when I slid in beside the frilly knickered lizard.

+paytontedwithlove+