Absurd in the hand is worth two rhinos in the bush.

Don't think of a banana. Made you look! Well, made you think of a banana anyway. Now think of a Zogloid. Can't be done because I only just made it up and haven't decided what it is yet.
Now, David Letterman, I do not like that Letterman, I do not like him Sam I am, of Letterman I'm not a fan, howEVER... that he should have to go to the trouble of having his lawyers try to overturn a judge's ruling that some woman can have an injunction against him stating that he may not think about her is absurd. He couldn't possibly have thought about her until she made him well aware of who she was by doing this.
Now I certainly think that there are periods of our life that simply are absurd in the Ionesco sense of the word, that we start to question the fabric of reality because there seems to be a rhino in the road or that the room is inexplicably filling up with chairs - Ionesco incidentally was supposed to be not the most friendly of chaps, which is of course an option when you become a famous French playwright.
That a judge could issue such an injunction outside of fiction is so absurd that I can't actually believe it to be true. I think there must be something missing from the story, something we should be told.

I have just finished reading a book that I was lent about AIDS in South Africa. The story starts at a time before the end of Apartheid and shows how the situation there enabled the HI virus to take hold so easily. The book is called 'We are all the same' and is by an American journo, Jim Wooten. It was an enjoyable and at the same time enlightening read, following the life of a child, Nkosi, who was born HIV positive, was adopted by a white South African and who made a huge impact on public perception of the condition.

A film which I missed at the cinema but have watched on DVD recently, was 'Ladies in Lavender'. The two main characters were Maggie Smith and Dame Judy Dench, need I say more, the best there is. The film is set in Cornwall and clearly filmed by someone with a reverence for that part of the country. A carefully observed story of manners at a specific point in time. Beautiful.

France is in safe hands. Chirac has gone to Morocco for a week. De Villepin will have to manage things at home on his own, as usual. Sarkozy though - now he would be a force to be reckoned with should Chirac decide to do the decent thing and fall on his own sword.
I simply don't understand the furore over Sarkozy's description of the Parisian rabble as well...a rabble. I feel a lot of it has to do with some over enthusiastic interpretations of the word 'racaille', I had seen the word 'scum' reported in the Brit-press, but rabble is correct.
Now Nicolas seems to be getting it in the neck from some footie player and member of the French team. Sarkozy bitingly replied that the guy may be a great footballer, but was not a master of thought. Nice. He then pointed out that it was unlikely said fancy footworker was much up on the goings on in the French suburbs since he lived in Italy on a nice salary thank you. All hail Sarkozy.

I have chilbains. I can't understand why. I can remember having them before, in some very snowy winter, and I know that many of my British chums think that Canada is a frozen waste where polar and grizzly bears gambol and frolic, occasionally interrupted by moose wearing Mountie hats. The truth is that the weather conditions here in Vancouver are more or less the same as those in Southern England. And frankly, my lifestyle there gave more opportunity for cold and wet to seep in. Method of transport - bike. Lived in a very cold flat by the sea. Granted I didn't spend much of it there, was out at work from 7 to 7, then came in, had bath and went to my nest with two hot water bottles to watch TV and munch. I have wear socks to keep my feeties warm and dissuade the chilblains from staying, Kevin says I'm turning into a Canadian.