Newton's Apple caused Wars!!!

Isaac Newton must have been jobless. I cannot imagine how or why a man who got hit on the head by an apple would respond by wondering why the apple fell in the first place. I bet he was sitting there day dreaming...I bet he had nothing to do but eat, sleep and attend to nature calls.

Why couldn't he just rub his head and go "OWW", blurt a few curses and leave. Or kick the tree and hurt his leg. No. He said "I wonder why this apple fell down on me and not up...but it hurts a bloody bit!"

If Isaac Newton had become a farmer like his mother had wanted him to, then we would have all been backward people, but at least we'd have reduced the number of deaths by 'gravity'.  (Apart from the occasional fall).

It is because Newton found gravity, that the Wright brothers found a way to defeat it. It is because the Wright brothers defeated it, that we all learnt to fly....It is because we learnt to fly, that we learnt to make use of gravity and drop bombs.

Maybe if Isaac had met Nostradamus, then they'd have had a little chat over apple pie and Newton would have realized that it was better to be ignorant.

Oh well, I'm just grateful to him for finding gravity so that we can enjoy those zero-gravity rides at the amusement parks.

For now this rant has ended...but still....I mean, didn't he have anything else to do? Scientists...sigh.

Curiousity killed the Cat

I rolled out of bed in the morning, wearing my comfy red jammy shirt, looking forward to that long sojourn in the toilet, when it happened. The doorbell rang. I opened it to have a bundle of soggy female in my arms.

It was Curiosity. Yes the FEELING curiosity, thank you for asking. And she was blubbering all over me. It was like standing in a Cardiff downpour with an umbrella...( since the umbrellas break all the time) I was drenched. My poor Jammy shirt.

" I didn't dooooo it!" she wailed.

"Do what?"

"You haven't heard?" She looked up at me wide eyed, briefly stopping the watery seige she was laying on my favourite shirt. "They're saying I killed the cat...Spite said that they're going to jail me! That I'll be found guilty for sure!"

"Oh...that..." Jeez...

" I was wondering if I could hide out here? Under your kitchen sink?" She looked around a bit frantically. "They'll be here any minute!"

I nodded and let her crawl under my kitchen sink. That was the advantage of being a demi-goddess...you could crawl in anywhere. If I had that power cleaning the bathroom would be sooo much easier. Mr. Shine might not be that needed anymore.

She lasted four days...suddenly all the pest traps I had were full...guess she wasn't sticking to feline murder.

I rolled out of bed, looking forward to a long sojourn in the toilet, when it happened again. A scream and some frantic scrabbling. I ran into the kitchen wondering what the **** was going on...I saw two bums sticking out of the cabinet under my sink. No not homeless bums....two literal backsides (clothed like duh). I guessed they were demi-god backsides.

Sigh.

One of the backsides moved...after much wiggling, a head followed it out. Yup...another demi-god. This time it was Judgment, his Judge's Wig hair mussed from the squished atmosphere of the cabinet-under-the-sink.

"We're here to get Curiousity. But she wiggled up a pipe. Stereotype, is helping me arrest her."

So I watched the proceedings...curiously...well what can I say? My sink-guest had rubbed off on me. Finally Two hours later, she was out and cuffed and ushered off wailing.

I rolled out of bed in the morning, wearing my comfy red jammy shirt,looking forward to that long sojourn in the toilet, when it happened. The doorbell rang. I opened it to have a bundle of soggy male in my arms.

"They're saying I trangressed into God's territory...I brought the cat back!!!" Satisfaction looked at me with wide tear filled eyes.

Oh...God...No

REINFORCING THE IMAGINATION

"Creative writers must always train their imagination" said the book. It was one of those nice little paper backs on 'Creative Writing' that kids buy at school book fairs when their dreaming of their futures.

A writer must always question...to me it sounds more like advice given to scientists. Scientists question everything! I bet they even sit on the pot for hours on end, wondering who came up with the brilliant idea of toilet paper and made millions off of it.

Well to be able to write about anything, apparently that was also something I had to do. Now its become a routine in life.

Everyday, I wonder about things. I wonder about spaghetti bologna and who came up with the wonderful idea of mixing meat and tomatoes. I also wonder about the inane things like DOORS and what it would be like to be a door.

Human Beings aare divided into two groups. The materialists, who see doors, animals, pillows and pin cushions as inanimate things with no thoughts or souls of their own. And then there's people who talk to themselves, their dogs and their pillows. AND THEN...there's me. I sit for a few minutes wondering what its like to BE a pillow.

Clorinda...a door in a mate's dorm. She opens and closes everyday with a BANG! Can you imagine, how many advil she'd buy, if she could just get to the drugstore? Boots would be making millions off of the numerous doors who go through the same thing.

I have concluded that being a door is like being a parent whose child stays in the infant stage forever...minus the soiled diapers.

That is the last ttidbit of knowledge that has hit the window of my brain like a snowflake for tonight. * waddles to bed and falls asleep *