Have you ever heard The Fable Of The Emperor’s New Clothes? It is a short tale written by Danish author Hans Christian Andersen, about two weavers who promise an emperor a new suit of clothes that they say is invisible to those who are unfit for their positions, stupid, or incompetent. I am sure most of you were read it as children but I rediscovered it recently and gave it a more adult slant. As soon as I realised what I was onto, it totally blew my mind. Mostly because it has absolutely nothing to do with anything happening in America in 2018 – of course!
Although I haven’t written anything for a while, it is nice to see that I do get the odd mention in dispatches – thanks Chimpton. So anyway, this week was Thanks Giving over here and I have to say, I just don’t get it. I’ve got to tell you that at this time of year it is freezing cold, it’s wet and at 4pm it looks like midnight. In my opinion, there’s nothing to give thanks for – at least not at this time of year. Then people say well you get to spend time with your friends and family. Have any of you seen my family? Every time the Boston Patriots lose I have to jam something in my cousin’s throat so that he doesn’t swallow his tongue. It’s not exactly a benefit having a family like mine.
Iam quickly approaching a rather scary birthday. After that birthday I will be of an age where even I consider myself old. As a child I thought anyone out of their teens was old but as I grew up that line moved backwards. Over thirties were old. Then over forties. In my head I moved the goalposts as I approached them. I can’t do that anymore. The next one is it – I am finally an old man. Other than the occasional jaunt, I have lived in the same neighbourhood for all of my adult life which makes things strange. Everything around me has changed but I don’t think that I have. I can see change in other people but I have remained more or less the same.
Iwas walking down the street when I stopped at an intersection waiting for the light. Stood just in front of me was a woman with a child doing exactly the same thing. The little girl couldn’t have been more than eight or nine and she turned round and looked up at me. She smiled and in the city where no one acknowledges anyone else and she actually said, “Hello.” I smiled back at her as her mother turned to see who her daughter was talking to. She looked at me with the eyes of a mother who is looking out for her daughter and more or less said, “Don’t even go there,” with her eyes. I looked straight ahead, wishing the light to change.
As most of you probably know from the bits and pieces that have past backwards and forwards on Jammy Toast, I live in New York. I live in a three-bedroomed apartment with my best friend in this whole world, Natalie. Similar to the way Silent Bob refers to Jay, she is my asexual life-mate. We have known each other for more years than I would care to remember and during that time we have had rows and fallings out but we always come round and one or both of us will apologies for our behaviour afterwards. We have never been romantically attached, I love her like I would love a sister. We take each other for granted, sometimes when we possibly shouldn’t but what friends don’t? Then five years ago she came and told me she was going to die.
Ihave always been one of those rare birds in New York who drives a car. It usually takes twice as long as taking the subway but at least I don’t have to wear my bus pants. This might explain why I have always had a fascination for the subway. If only I had kept a diary of my exploits I would probably have been able to write a book right about now. Back in the day I used to take a daily commute on #2 into the World Trade Centre. I think that subway car is the only place on this planet where you can rub shoulders with company chairmen, politicians, electricians, traders, actors, singers, musicians, artists, construction workers and fashion models all in the same place.
Ihaven’t written anything on Jammy Toast for a little while. No, let me re-phrase that. I have not had anything posted on Jammy Toast for a little while because I keep getting rejection letters from Sir Davidd. So I thought I would have one last try to write something relevant for inclusion on Jammy Toast and try and piss Sir Davidd off at the same time. I have known Davidd now for some years and during that time we have had many long hard conversations about computers and most things IT related. I used to work for Microsoft so it was easy to fit in with Davidd’s Windows/PC outlook on life. I used to think everything made by Apple was crap and that was the end of it.
Hello again to all the Jammy Toasters. As you may remember, a couple of Hizzouses ago I was censored. Mr Davidd Bearkeeper OBE and The Chimpton refused to publish one of my posts. I can understand their reasoning though, because I wrote about what I had been doing over Christmas which, as they pointed out, didn’t really have much to do with Jammy Toast or Teddy Bears – I had left my teddy bear at home while I was away, so it was a little off subject. So this month, to stick to the rules, I shall tell you a story about two fictional characters who were in love. There is a teddy bear collector in the story but, of course, he is fictional and “bears” no relationship to actual bearkeepers living or dead. Everyone else is fictional too. In fact, no one in this story is real!
Hello again Jammy Toasters. The more observant amongst you might just notice that this post is entitled “Lestly In The Hizzouse #4” whilst the last one was “Lestly In The Hizzouse #2”. Before you ask, yes I can count, but unfortunately “Lestly In The Hizzouse #3” was not up to standard and Mr Bearkeeper refused to post it – no doubt in consultation with Chimpton. I wouldn’t mind but I wasn’t even being “horrit” towards her, either. So, in revenge, I thought I would come and tell all you Toasters just how embarrassing Mr Bearkeeper can be. These are true stories told to me by Chimpton, so hopefully we will get her into trouble. Let me know if you like these tomes because I do have many, many more.
Hello again Jammy Toasters. I have returned again this month to spill more beans on my friendship with Miss Chimpton and this month, I thought I would tell you the story of the infamous Rubber Tree Plant. I consider this to be the high point of my friendship with Miss “C” and can I add that I was not hurt by what she said. I think she feels guilty for coming out with what she did but, in fact, it is probably one of the funniest things anyone has ever said to me. Also, before we all accuse her of being nasty, it is worth mentioning that she was – at the time – higher than either Jay or Silent Bob have ever been.
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