Silly Saturday mild musing micro rants and other genteel gibberings

nomdeboardie

The ped walks forward, drifting a millimetre closer to the edge of the footpath with each step.

Filtering carefully to the left of the traffic jam, the bike feels the inevitability of their convergence.

As expected, ped descends to the road at just the right time, still facing resolutely forward.

He's about to filter sideways, fair 'nuff, but without acknowledging that there is a 'side'.

For him there is no up, no down, no left, no right, and no...behind. The world is not one-dimensional, but merely half-dimensional.

Brakes levers are squeezed and "Would you mind looking back before you step onto the road?" or a congratulation on the precision of his timing fall into uncomprehending ears.

And on we go.

----

Coasting slowly to a halt at the lights, the car feels the magnetic pull of a red zone of tarmac that sports a strange hieroglyphic.

Coming to rest in The Zone just feels right.

What's the crazy cyclist gesturing to? Nothing to see here, mate. Nothing but black tarmac in front of my bonnet.

Lean on the horn for a bit, that'll teach 'em. No? Do it again. Don't often get the chance to give the old beeper a good workout.

----

'Bout 10 cars ahead, but think I'll be able to drive through when the lights go green. Lovely wide lane, spoiled a bit, aesthetically, by that odd line of white dashes I'm straddling to the left.

What? Bloody cyclist - comes up on my outside, crosses my front, then goes left of the dashes! Why am I the only car keeping fully left? Don't they realise they're just encouraging this behaviour?

RobertFoster

Reading your almost poetic post and listening to Sigur Rós at the same time has given me slightly light-headed trippy feeling.

nomdeboardie

RobertFoster wrote: »

Reading your almost poetic post and listening to Sigur Rós at the same time has given me slightly light-headed trippy feeling.

Glad to be of psycho-service :pac:

nomdeboardie

Sea air and sunshine in my hair
Descent to Bullock Harbour's lair

The wee ascent the other side
Awaits the speed built from my glide

Car gonna to do a three-point-turn?
My face is morphed from joy to gurn

Slow, so slow, the beast rotates
I brake 'til all momentum abates

Me buzz is ruint! The day is done
Universal kilter's been and gone


No, no, let me go, on with my momentum
Up the other side with it
O piece of road-block pond-scum

DePurpereWolf

There once was a dame named Suri
Who had to turn left in a hurry
The crashing sound
Of the biker hitting ground
Did not cause her any worry



(Lady in the blue agila, you know who I'm talking about)

Jawgap

Haiku on a Hill in East Meath

brooding hill
spring sunshine garmin on
thrice I ascend
into hell


and with due acknowledgement to Samuel Beckett and David Norris.....

Ever cycle. Ever suffer. No matter. Cycle Again. Suffer again. Suffer better.

fatbhoy

Cycling along on my merry way,
A side street ahead on the left I spy,
A female driver left indicator on display,
Passes, ahead me stops till I come by,
Why she could not behind me stay?
Until I passed the turn is what I say
Instead I pass her on the right,
Beacuse I'm old enough not to trust this sh*te.

Moflojo

Pant, pant, pant, pant
Pant, pant, pant, pant
Pant, pant, pant, pant
Whooooooooooosh!

Icyseanfitz

brilliant thread

nomdeboardie

Icyseanfitz wrote: »

brilliant thread

Shure it keeps us off the streets
Not :pac:

Jawgap

Moflojo wrote: »

Pant, pant, pant, pant
Pant, pant, pant, pant
Pant, pant, pant, pant
Whooooooooooosh!

Is this about cyclin' or ridin';)

nomdeboardie

Jawgap wrote: »

and with due acknowledgement to Samuel Beckett and David Norris.....

Ever cycle. Ever suffer. No matter. Cycle Again. Suffer again. Suffer better.

Which Beckett bit is that? I Googled the short string that didn't contain "cycle", to no avail.

I think Mr Beckett (as well as Bohemian Rhapsody ) was in the back of my mind when my "No, no ..." line came along

nomdeboardie

Jawgap wrote: »

Is this about cyclin' or ridin';)

Ahem Ba-dum Tish :pac:

Bunnyhopper

nomdeboardie wrote: »

Which Beckett bit is that?

End of Worstward Ho, I think. Try "Fail again. Fail better."



There once was chap, name of Fencer,
who had all the good sense of Frank Spencer,
like any good troll
with a heart made of coal,
he was like a black hole, only denser.

Jawgap

nomdeboardie wrote: »

Which Beckett bit is that? I Googled the short string that didn't contain "cycle", to no avail.

I think Mr Beckett (as well as Bohemian Rhapsody ) was in the back of my mind when my "No, no ..." line came along

'twas inspired by Beckett:D

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6EfRnQM_qgk

PurpleBee

ugh liam neeson's winking ruins everything

nomdeboardie

Bunnyhopper wrote: »

... like any good troll ...

:eek:
Anyone in mind? :pac:

nomdeboardie

PurpleBee wrote: »

ugh liam neeson's winking ruins everything

Good God, I didn't notice that on first viewing
Now I'm all creeped out :eek:

RobertFoster

nomdeboardie wrote: »

Now I'm all creeped out :eek:

nomdeboardie

RobertFoster wrote: »

You technoshowoff swine!
Won't someone think of the children?
Where are the mods when you need them?

Thankfully, though, I can hit the red X in my browser, to freeze him so he just looks like:

nomdeboardie

Virtualosity

You must go on, I can't go on, I'll go on. Samuel Beckett's words danced in Claude's head as he climbed The Devil's Elbow. Over and over, their steps heavier and heavier until they drowned out any other thoughts in his universe. Except for the image of Lancelot: fifty metres ahead, Garmin 501.111's latest holographic Virtual Partner was disappearing around the hedged bend with a gloating backward glance.

The last part of the bastard that Claude saw was an over-long black sock. That was enough to forcefully replace his existential dirge with a mindset of pure contempt. A disdain strong enough to muster the last joules of his energy and banish The Pain to a smouldering background fire. His cadence rose steadily as he turned the bend. Catching again an eyeful of Lancelot's tasteless kit, he drew the hated one in, one pedal-stroke at a time, then powered clean through his mass-less form. His 'partner' behind him, Claude kept the lead all the way to Glencullen crossroads.

Stopping at the lights, he noticed that his Suffer Score was through the roof – no surprise there – and ….yes…he had it! KOM for the Barrow Road segment at last!

Lancelot was still a way back, but Claude could just make out the expression on his face. Disappointingly, this seemed rather neutral, not the expected mix of despair and disgust. Must be another firmware glitch – he'd have to get on to Garmin again. Still, he wasn't going to let this spoil his victory.

On green, he made a triumphant right turn and accepted an ultra-bright holographic InstaCrown from Strava, just as he reached Johnnie Fox's. Excellent – there was a throng of people sitting al fresco in the unseasonal summer sun to witness it! To prolong his exposure, Claude slowed to a crawl, pretending to adjust a derailleur cable.

He caught a glimpse of Flann (or was it Myles?) He was with that guy De Selby. They smiled and waved (and looked so fine). Rolling past the end of the Highest Pub in South County Cherrywood, though, he heard something that sounded like "this new breed of cyclist". Claude couldn't identify the speaker, and couldn't be sure of the tone: was it admiring or contemptuous? Once again, he filed away his misgivings for later analysis; perhaps he would have to make a complaint to boards.eu.

Although, Claude preferred to keep his hair cool on the climbs, heading into the steep descent to Kilternan he switched on his helmet – time for some serious headgear. The super-lightweight, mega-strong chassis unfurled from its ultra-compact storage pods in the Nonexistium earpieces of his Oakleys, fusing cleanly over his head.

Arriving home, Claude made straight for the living room where he had left Claiudine. Telling her about his ride, he basked in her beauty. He was old-fashioned when it came to his choice of a domestic partner, and she could be described as nothing short of doll-like. Although he felt he was due an upgrade to a livelier mate, he prided himself on his loyalty. Despite his good news, she did seem a little deflated.

Claude knew just the thing for that. He pulled out his mini-pump.

NamelessPhil

Re Claudine, there's a Tim Minchin for that.
Inflatable You

nomdeboardie

NamelessPhil wrote: »

Re Claudine, there's a Tim Minchin for that.
Inflatable You

Ha, good one; there's a TiMinchin for everything!

nomdeboardie

From the Boards Jersey Sightings thread

doozerie wrote: »

... Must be the good weather, the boardsies are swarming, shut your windows or they'll be all over the house before you know it.

Well, I left my window open last night and there's one in the house now! Can't get rid of it.

Don't even know if it's a male or female – too fast to catch or even get a proper look at, especially going downstairs. Sometimes I only know it's there from the awful buzzing sound – must be some fancy wheelset.

Claude is visiting, and even he can't keep up with it – he's fuming. He's been chasing that boards-clad thing 'round and 'round, and between them they have the place wrecked.

The kitchen looks like a bomb hit it – the yoke must have been looking for energy gels and power bars, but I don't have any of that stuff. There's oil stains on the curtains and puddles of sweat on the floor.

I've tried leaving all the doors and windows open for a while, but it just bounces off the frames. It's like Brownian motion, I tell you. I suppose it would eventually diffuse out if I leave them open long enough, but then, or course, I could end up with a whole gaggle of new ones coming in!

I phoned the Gards, and they have a couple of smart guys working on it, but The Third Policeman they sent over was worse than useless. He just leaned against the wall on one leg and asked whether the conundrum was "about a bicycle", to which I replied, "Well, I suppose…"

nomdeboardie

This has also been observed, apparently, in other settings, by unexpected ey:eek:s:


Time: Early in the recurring unit of the seven-part georotational multiple the inhabitants call Saturday

Location: The place they call The Sally Gap (another cryptic local moniker)

Observation: My first visualisation of the Earthlings

Morphology: A soft central corpus, possibly enclosing an internal skeleton, with tetrapodal extensions fused at the hind extremities to a hard, metabolically inactive lower extension (remnant exoskeleton??) encompassing rotationally articulating locomotory discs.

Vulnerabilities: On losing balance the creatures rotate swiftly until the plane of greatest cross-sectional area contacts the planet's surface. Occasionally they rotate further, to the point of complete inversion, flailing their forelimbs. A protracted period of helpless distressed wriggling ensues until they succeed in dismembering themselves by ripping hindlimbs from the rigid undercarriage. They are, however, then capable of re-orienting their parts to the upright position and quickly repairing the flesh-exoskeleton connection to continue their rolling foraging.

doozerie

nomdeboardie wrote:

Well, I left my window open last night and there's one in the house now! Can't get rid of it.

The rolled up newspaper is the trusty traditional method, though in this case you'll probably need a rolled up copy of broadsheet.ie to chase them out with.

nomdeboardie

Follow the Yellow Brick Road
Follow the Yellow Brick Road
Follow, follow, follow, follow
Follow the Yellow Brick Road
Follow the Yellow Brick
Follow the Yellow Brick
Follow the Yellow Brick Road

We’re off to see—

Hang on! Wait a minute...

Is this a Strava segment?

Beasty

nomdeboardie wrote: »

Hang on! Wait a minute...

Is this a Strava segment?

Yep, here's the QOM:

nomdeboardie

Jack and Jill mashed up a hill
Mountain king and queen, no fuss
Jill whizzed down – no descending crown?
Jack had marked it hazardous! :rolleyes:

nomdeboardie

Although I am no longer directly observing the planet briefly documented in this report, I have picked up an electromagnetic transmission from the area.

It appears to provide an optical feed of a sky-shielded niche – perhaps a hive-like structure? – with a central oval surface around which small groups of creatures resembling the previously-described Earthlings can be perceived to spin.

These creatures each have a single, very large eye structure with a smooth reflective surface of varying colour. Some have an interesting extension to the back of the head, suggesting a well-developed hindbrain. They may represent a different species, or sub-species, of the wheeled creatures, and, I think, are an exciting find in their resemblance to some of our own cranial characteristics. I must report sensations of exobiological attraction and will submit to the necessary purge as mandated.

Another type of creature, without the wheeled skeletal extension, forms the main population of the hive, tending to and observing the wheeled denizens. The former balance precariously on their hindlimbs, and can move slowly by advancing them in alternation. They may represent a worker caste or an enslaved degenerated species.

A scan of the audio component of the transmission includes many repetitions of a phrase, “Team Gee Bee”(?) The nearest match from our nascent database of Earthling culture is “The Bee Gees”, but I have not yet determined whether this is significant.

Frere Jacques

Fogged up glasses in pelting rain, fast decent fromDundurrow,

Pheripheral blurs invoke wandering spirits from O’Neill’sarmy

but give way to ghost estates as Kinsale is neared.

To rest or not, risking the slow creep of cold,

the galvanised sky belies the word shower, I press on,

On the byroad it’s almost all over as a fox breaks hercover,

The look says I am the intruder.

Home through Crossbarry, wet to the skin,

the Third West Cork brigade bid me safe passage.

As the Collig is neared, my subconscious pushes hard.

Cadence increases as shoulders tense up.

The captive knows his cage approaches,

and it’s seven days till he’ll again see the yard.

nomdeboardie

Genesis, abridged and amended

Then God said, "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness, with wheels; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth because it hath no wheels."

nomdeboardie

Genesis, another bit (The Fall)

And God said to wayward man:

"Cursed is the ground because of you; you will lose your wheels and stomp on it all the days of your life. Yes, Sonny, I'm taking away your wheels!"

And man was all like :eek:

nomdeboardie

Genesis, a renaissance and a new sin

And the children of man were Cain and Abel, and the wheel was re-invented and stuff.

Now Abel :cool: found a way to move upon the wheels by the sweat of his brow, and God declared "That's cool!"

But Cain :rolleyes: cultivated a heavy metal beast that ate fat from under the land, and made it roll wheels beneath him. And God did not say much about that. And Cain was furious, and he was downcast.

Then the Lord said to Cain, "Why are you furious? And why are you downcast? If you drive carefully, will you not be accepted?"

And it came to pass that Cain saw Abel on the road, and he did not slow down and he did not divert from him, and he sidesmote his brother with the metal beast :eek:.

doozerie

Hey diddle diddle,
I stopped for a piddle,
Back to the wind and stood legs agape,
'Twas a voluminous stream disturbingly green,
Then a gust blew it all over my handlebar tape.

nomdeboardie

The Shoaler Within

nomdeboardie

3 uses for a bicycle in the zombie apolcalypse

- Flee with ease from even a Fast Zombie

- Invert, attach severed heads to spokes of wheels, set spinning, watch whirling-eyed zombies :eek: congregate

- Remove gearing and hang from seaward branch of a cliff-top tree to lure hipster zombies to a watery...Oh wait...

nomdeboardie

The Motorist Asserts

"I don't think you should be on the roundabout",

pronounced a man with little doubt