The Surgeon's Knife

However often I refresh the Environment Canada website, it will not deliver me up any snow in the foreseeable future. Or promise me any.

I love that the Israeli police have actually arrested this nutjob, Goel Ratzon, self-styled messiah. He considers himself to be perfect and to have everything a woman wants.
Oh really.
Because we're all the same of course, all women want the same thing.
Whilst I am prepared to believe there must be some women who want what he has to offer, unkempt appearance, staring eyes, messiah complex, clinical insanity, sharing of sexual favours with other women, domination and squalor, I can't think of anyone I know who would be lining up.

Unsurprisingly, Haiti has been on the news all day, and all day yesterday. And equally unsurprisingly, you don't have to look far to find miserable gits who think the Haitians undeserving. Some, indeed, think they asked for it, probably the same wankers who considered AIDS to be a 'gay plague'.
At one and the same time, the psycho-pathology of these people is fascinating in the way that a cobra is fascinating, and provokes a horror that makes you want to back off sharply in case they have some way of sucking you inside their twisted, barbaric brains.

On the subject of twisted, barbaric, psychotic brains, although I have now finished Hilary Mantel's Booker prize winning novel, 'Wolf Hall', I still keep thinking about it. I admire the way she showed the horror that was the man, Thomas More, whilst also painting him as a man, for whom, even whilst despising for his barbarism, Cromwell couldn't bring himself to wish the worst kind of death.
The worst kind of death at the time for a woman was being burned alive, for a man, being hung, drawn, and quartered. Somehow More managed to make even the worst worse for his victims.

Intolerably sad, profound,
St. Giles's bells are ringing round,
Swing up and bring me hope of life,
Swing down, and plunge the surgeon's knife.....

From, 'Before the Anaesthetic' by Sir John Betjeman

Tomorrow, my little puppy gets his own surgery. I think I anthropomorphise more than I should, but I don't like the idea of him being away all day and anaesthetised.
In general, and in spite of the fact that the surgery will quite literally be done by women, I don't buy into the myth that women castrate men, it's more often men who castrate other men,
But in the case of Mr. Ratzon, I'd make an exception.