Ads that I like: # 117

In 1922, a group of eminent French scientists definitively established the causal factors behind the mystery that is marriage.

It appears that – despite a multitude of philosophers, artists, alchemists, poets and cabinetmakers probing over centuries – women had known the secret all along!

It seems that marriages “are made in the heaven of women's [sic] minds and hearts.”

As with most hard science, I am not sure that I fully grasp the A to B. I know that it has something with the bourgeoisie. I know that it has something to do with flushed cheeks. I presume that it relates to triggering that part of the male brain that reacts to a post-orgasmic cutaneous blood circulation in the buccae.

The advertisement does not fully explain that part.

Comments

Roddy said…

I dunno. Somewhere, somehow it seems to work. I think. I will have to ask your mum, just to be sure.

28 September 2010 at 16:17

Ténèbres à la lumière... said…

Bonjour! Kris...
(Laughter!) This is a very interesting ad and comments that you have posted too!
Merci, for sharing!
DeeDee ;-D

28 September 2010 at 18:33

Ténèbres à la lumière... said…

Hmmm...I must ponder this, but not for to long!

28 September 2010 at 18:34

Kris McCracken said…

Roddy, I will.

DeeDee, I enjoyed it!

30 September 2010 at 15:19

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

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