who would you call on in a crisis?

After considerable discussion with Mrs. Rev.Paperboy we have come to the conclusion that in the event of a major crisis, if we had to pick five people to stand with and count on absolutely, no matter the circumstances - be it civil unrest, natural disaster or some kind of court-appointed disaster, the five people we would want at our side would be my parents, her parents and depending on circumstances Dave and/or a really good lawyer.
Character and experience will tell in a crisis, and we already know how some of these people will behave, except maybe the hypothetical lawyer.


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We hardly knew ye...

After a long struggle, the inevitable obituary for an old friend and trusted companion.
Our thoughts are with the family.

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Why Clark, without your glasses you look just like...

Jesus Jimmy, don't you ever frickin' knock?

Why, he's just a mild-mannered reporter (formerly) with a great metropolitan newspaper!


This blog, along with everything else in my life, will be going through some changes in the coming weeks. No, it isn't anything traumatic, it is just a change in employment status and a general need to update this particular chunk of cyberspace.
For starters, due to the people at Google being shirty about people posing as "real" clergymen, I'm unable to use Rev.Paperboy as the name in my google profile anymore, so I'll  be working without the collar, mask and cape for the foreseeable future, which means you get to know my really, real, honest to goodness, actual name. Try not to abuse that privilege, otherwise various superpowers will have to be brought into play ( Up up and away, Hulk Smash!, Let's go commandoes it's howling' time, you wouldn't like me when I'm angry, Avenger Assemble, it's clobbering' time, go ahead make my day, Shazam! etc etc.).
I'll be weeding the blogroll in the coming days to remove dead links and the like, so if you think you should be on the blogroll, send me a link and we'll see.

Stay tuned!


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This conservative is NOT illiterate!

he can prove that, despite being cousins, his parents were married, damn it!

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When we start our own country, this will be our national anthem

THE BULL

Words & Music: Jake Thackray

On my farm, the bull is the king of the yard;
He's big and bad and fast, he's strong he's . . . hard.
All my other animals would readily concur
That he is the one you salute, he's the one you call "Sir".
But my hens, a noisy, flighty flock -
Led, of course by my unsubmissive cock -
Whenever His Majesty the bull importantly goes by
They dance along behind him and they cry:
"Beware of the bull!"

The bull, the bull is the biggest of all.
He is the boss, he is, because he's big and we are small.
But the bigger the bull, bigger the bull, bigger the balls.
The bigger the bull, the bigger and quicker and thicker the bullshite falls.

Beware of the bull! The dancing cock is right:
Beware of whoever looks down upon you from a height.
Beware of His Honour, His Excellence, His Grace, His Worshipful,
Beware of His Highness, because of the bull.
For if the boss, the chief, the chap at the top
Should let a single lump of claptrap drop,
The greater the weight and the height he is, the harder it will go
With a grander splat! on the bleeders below.
Beware of the bull!

The bull, the bull is the biggest of all.
He is the boss, he is, because he's big and we are small.
But the bigger the bull, bigger the bull, bigger the balls.
The bigger the bull, the bigger and quicker and thicker the bullshite falls.

The hero arrives, we hoist him shoulder-high.
He's good and wise and strong, he's brave, he's . . . shy.
And how we have to plead with him, how bashfully he climbs
Up the steps to the microphone - two at a time.
Then down it comes: slick, slithery pat!
If you must put people on pedestals, wear a big hat.
The tongue he's got is pure gold, the breast is pure brass,
The feet are pure clay - and watch out for the arse.
Beware of the bull!

The bull, the bull is the biggest of all.
He is the boss, he is, because he's big and we are small.
But the bigger the bull, bigger the bull, bigger the balls.
The bigger the bull, the bigger and quicker and thicker the bullshite falls.

At long last, the revolution comes
And in no time at all we're erecting podiums.
Comrades with chests of medals by the balcony-full;
After the Red Flag, the galloping bull.
The Saviour came especially from on high
To face up to the punters eye-to-eye.
No sooner is he dead and gone, there's blessed pulpits-full;
Bestride the holy lamb, behold the bull.
Beware of the bull!

The bull, the bull is the biggest of all.
He is the boss, he is, because he's big and we are small.
But the bigger the bull, bigger the bull, bigger the balls.
The bigger the bull, the bigger and quicker and thicker the bullshite falls.

These well-known men, so over-glorified -
There's one of them here his name's on the poster outside -
And he's up here like this, and you are all down there.
Remember his cock and his bull and mutter: "Beware!"
For when they've done, we clap, we cheer, we roar:
"For he is a jolly good fellow! Encore! More, more!"
How glorious it would be if before these buggers began
We all stood up together and solemnly sang:
"Beware of the bull!"

The bull, the bull is the biggest of all.
He is the boss, he is, because he's big and we are small.
But the bigger the bull, bigger the bull, bigger the balls.
The bigger the bull, the bigger and quicker
And the bigger and quicker and thicker
And the bigger and quicker and thicker and slicker the bullshite falls.





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