July 19, 2024

It is a writer’s nightmare to read in print the little piece he wrote the day before, and come not frowning if not scowling with the result.
Why is there a “the” where an “a” should be, and why is there no “the” where you want it in place?
For old guards like myself, the miscue is simply shrugged off as just another typographical error, but with more grammar flaws following one after the other, the sentence structure and syntax all faulty, our only way out is to apologize to our readers.
Sorry po!

But blame me not or anyone else, it seems my trusted ballpen has acquired a mind of its own, and prefers scribbling its own thoughts rather than mine.
My son Marc says that a snake hissing into Eve’s ear sounds better than hissing behind her nape, not unless the devil is planning to plant a wet kiss on Eve’s neck, the better to seduce her.
But why the need to tempt or seduce a woman who has already made up her mind to do his bidding, not with his promise to take over the world hovering over her head.

My other son, Melpether, home on a brief business vacation, calls my attention to another “mistake” – that slapping silly Charles isn’t the same as slapping Charles silly in the face. But of course.
Silly of me.
As a final word, allow me to straighten out a few facts.
It isn’t Princess Anne, the queen’s daughter, for all her schoolgirl crushes, who is ha-ving man problems.
It is Princess Margaret, Anne’s aunt and the queen’s sister, who flits – as opposed to flirt – one guy to another.
For the record, flirting can either be outrageous or tame, naughty if you like, but unless one thing leads to another, is quite harmless.
No harm, no foul.

Poor Margaret, constantly seeking comfort in the arms of men, like a bee buzzing from flower to flower, lusting for the nectar of ecstasy, and never mind what the queen bee feels about her escapades.
After all, their father, King James, became king because his older brother abdicated in his favor, to marry a woman not acceptable to royalty, being a divorcee with a string of flings.
Elizabeth became Queen only after the death of their father, because she was born ahead of Margaret.
With Prince Charles next in line to the throne, Margaret will never be queen, but that “tramp” Camilla will, leading Charles by the nose, as she pleases.

Think about that. A king giving up a kingdom for a woman, and before her, there was Helen, she with the face that launched a thousand ships.
And how many Cleopatras and Imeldas are there in the world, or other fatal attractions, for that matter.
But I doff my cap to women who leave their philandering husbands to take up with a former flame, like stabbing her ex-spouse with a dagger and slowly twisting it, watching his face in agony, almost begging for forgiveness.
But my heart bleeds for unhappy, abused wives, who can’t leave because they have no other place to go, suffering their fate in silence.
But for the strong, ever fighting for their place in the sun, even if she has the boys eating out of her hands and groveling at her feet, we give this warning.
Like rats, boys will fight back when cornered, but I guess nothing really that you can’t handle.
Happy Liberation Month, ladies!

P.S. We are happy to learn that clan doctor, Dr. Julie Cabato, is now recovering from her recent operation, and is at home resting.
Also, that restauranteur and old friend Art Nang is now fully conscious and on the mend.
I am not particularly religious, but Praise the Lord.
Get well soon Doctora and Art.