Taking a New Turn Toward Failure

Hey. I’ve just thought of another way to fail at blog writing!

Love poems and stories!

This is the best idea, I’ve had so far. Just think of how I can write some Mumbo Jumbo about him and her, or her and his two dogs who are on vacation together, then fate strikes, or a car runs one of the dogs over, and they can’t tell them apart? What happens next? Do they fall in love and go sailing on Dream River together, or do they have a lover’s spat at the vets’ and end up holding each others hands, and the dog’s tail, hoping that he survives to tell his tale, tail, or something like that?

Who in their right mind would want to hear about my love poems? Love from a 60 year old fart! Hey, get real and smell the chicory! I might be attractive to the opposite sex, those who are a bit near-sided, and desperate for older, more mature men, but other than that? I’ll just take my chances on my wife….my wife…..Thank God, she doesn’t read this clap-trap, or I’d be in a worse position, uh situation, than I already am, having been married all those/these years!

Where was I? Oh yeah, Love!

I’ve tried my hand at writing that kind of prose, prosa, poetry, jumbled words with love thrown in, and other similar things. What do you know about love? You might ask….Well, not much. I’ve been married, and yes there was Love involved back then, and I said, then she said, then she claimed that I didn’t say, but I did, only I had my doubts and, what?

Love Poems….Get Real!

Don’t worry, I’ll write one sooner or later, and then the un-following is sure to begin!

I can only hope for as much happiness in doing so…………


Non Response

I think that 2017 will become the year of the Non-Blog. I hope that my efforts will pay off in the end, showing me and the world, that anyone can fail without really trying!

I feel that WordPress has been working against this aim by providing a myriad of ways to promote my blog, making it interesting to others.

Hello? Aren’t you listening?

Things like a link on Facebook? Why would I want to do that to my 13 friends anyway? OK. Some of you might remember my 9-Friend limit, but a few members of my wife’s family seemed upset that I had deleted them as friends? I still don’t like not being able to see all 9 at one time, but in the spirit of Family Peace, I’ve consented to let the others stay, at least for a while.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Facebook. Look here: Perhaps 4 of those 13 friends might do something like, like a post, but that is it! Why bore them with advertising for my blogs? That is counter productive if you ask me! I firmly believe in  the non response  method of discouraging others from reading/following my blog. Does it work? Obviously not, as I still have over 200 readers, which shows how I’ve failed so far at attaining so many?

I might just recommend a non response button for my blog site. It won’t be visible, of course, otherwise it wouldn’t make any sense at all. The fact that others would believe that button existed, would still give them hope of not following my blog, in reverse progressive order!

The next step would deal with comments. I don’t mind the odd comment or two, of people wanting me to purchase their products, or tell me about their lives in Zimbabwe, but those others, who end up in my SPAM filter, actually want to sell me something to help, Increase the number of readers! See what I mean? There is danger at every turn!

I might just change the appearance while I am at it? Something that would say to the world, “I’m not looking for Mrs Goodbar, or This bus stops here”. That would surely tell others that stopping off at my blog, and taking their shoes off to air them out a bit won’t be existing on my site! Why offer them pleasantries, when the whole point is to fail?

If you feel the way that I do, and want me to succeed in failure, then…..well, actually you shouldn’t do anything at all. I hesitate to say other things, for fear that you might just do the opposite, thereby ruining my plans, before I managed to do so myself?

Here is hoping for failure! If not now, then in the ensuing weeks, when I really can make a mess of things, which usually happens without trying.

Good Luck to me…………..



Not Wanting, Admitting To

OK. Here is my list of resolutions for 2017. What? Late, some might say, but then they have said things like that before, but in being late, then I’ve had the chance to reflect a bit more, before revealing my final list, which is my only list, and which I’ll now make up as I go!

  • Less of what I used to do, but more of the same
  • Admitting to what everyone knew I’d done, but not me, myself before threatened with the truth
  • Wanting change, but fearing redoing what I never got to finish in 2016
  • Releasing exciting and informative blog material, just not on this site
  • Writing witty and lovable blogs under an assumed name, which is not my own
  • Sweeping up old blogs, but not tossing them into the bin, before I’ve recycled them
  • Telling as many truths to my readers, as my guilty conscience permits
  • Not wanting to write a blog a day, without deleting what I wrote the day before
  • Telling about my addiction to caffeine-free tea, while sipping double strength coffee
  • Not telling others that I am hopelessly in love with someone, who they don’t know, and neither do I
  • Trying to write blogs of a confusing nature, but keeping track of my lies, so that I can explain, why I wrote such silly stuff in the first place
  • Wanting to visit some cold place, not necessarily the dog house, where I often reside, while the dog lives inside, looking out at me
  • Being unfashionably late, after telling everyone that it won’t happen again, while I am enjoying life in another place, far far away from where I said I’d been
  • Writing things like resolutions for people who stopped reading them at line 2, or perhaps not reading them at all, and who have gone on to better things in life
  • Waiting for a sign from above telling me that I really do know how to write blogs, and not just because someone in Canada keeps telling me lies, that I do…….

What My Friends Say

I’m not one to listen to the advice of others. Just ask my wife, and see how far that will get you!

This year, 2017 has really been a roller coaster ride for me. What with the disclosure of me knowing someone, who my wife didn’t know I knew, and the fact that knowing these things haven’t kept my friends in the know, even those who said that they knew me.

“How could you?” How could I? I think the question here is, How could I, without asking their advice? You see the difference? Well, obviously then you don’t know me, like I know  you. It’s kind of like saying, Do you know Chang Kai-Shek? I mean, who really knows of good old Chang, a question of which might also be asked of his friends. “Did he turn out to be the good old boy that you imagined him to be?” How many of his friends would answer, “No. He disappointed me, and I will never play pinochle with him again!”

Well, where are my pinochle friends today? You see the similarities? That is one of the many reasons that I’ve decided to re-think my list of friends for 2017. Who should remain on that list, and why? Ever done that? Go through something that has been gnawing you for years and years, and finally one day, when you are fed up with everyone and everything, you finally explode and say that you are knowing someone, who everyone else thought you had known for a long time, but wouldn’t say anything not wanting to hurt your feelings, then after finding out about your knowing connection to that person, have decided to have hurt feelings about that?

Well, if I still have any friends left, after they’ve read this blog, then I’d be as surprised as when I decided not to make my list of resolutions for 2017. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house, as they say, but there will always be a silver lining in the bottom of the chest that was heaving greatly when I told her that I had told others, that we really did know each other, and make all of their fears into realities, or vice-versa.

How many of you, out there, and I’d like to see a show of hands on this one, how many of you had wondered, if we still would be pinochle buddies in the New Year, especially after the disclosure of yesterday, and of today, and those which you probably haven’t read yet, being all hung-over after that party where the vodka ran out before the orange juice!

Why? Some of you might ask? Pourquoi might be the question on the other side of the pond! Why this and why not that? I would think that if my overseas buddies who don’t know it as yet, everything that my buddies on this side of the Atlantic know, would not want to know me anymore, if that is, they knew me in the first place. “Do you know him?” They might ask each other in French, while playing their weekly round of pinochle. “No, And I wouldn’t want to know anyone, who would know someone, we knew in advance, like he claims to know her!” And then they would put their foot/feet down and stamp on the floor in a very French-Québec way and be upset and all with that knowledge.

“It doesn’t really matter”, as Chang Kai-Shek used to tell his buddies, at least those who still claimed to be his buddies, and not his false-buddies who were probably jailed somewhere for life! I won’t think as hard on my buddies here in Denmark, if they would just put their doubts and insecurities aside and stop asking, “Warum” if they were speaking German at the time, or “Hvorfor” if their talk tended to be in Danish instead.

Let us not stand on convention and continue to be pinochle buddies way into the depths of 2017, and not worry about which False Steps, I might have made in the fading hours and minutes of 2016. Remember, while I was spending time with my thoughts in the wee hours of 2017, then my French Québec buddies would still have been toasting to my health in the fading minutes of 2016, when we still were friends,  even though they didn’t know me and I didn’t know them.

And that is just one of the things, that this life has given me in knowing you…..


I Told My Wife

Dear You

I told my wife about you today. Yes, on this first day of 2017, I finally admitted to knowing you and your ways, in ways that she didn’t know that I knew you before.

Confused? That’s what I asked her, when the look on her face said something of too much orange juice and not enough vodka during last night’s party. She looked at me in that way that she had looked at me before, but not before knowing that you had known me in another way, which didn’t have to do with vodka and orange juice, but sitting on your veranda sipping Pinot Noir, and wondering when she would find out about us.

“Have you known her for a long time?” which is what she said before we started to look funny at each other and wonder why the vodka ran out before the orange juice? Yes, I admitted to having known her, but not in the way that they knew each other in the old or the new testaments, which would mean that I knew her and she knew me, but then my wife wouldn’t want to know me, or about me anymore.

You might think that all of this is very complicated, but then I have never visited Montréal before in my imagination, and never with my wife along asking about knowing and not knowing!

The next time, I visit you and your cat, and your surplus of Pinot Noir, then I will kindly ask my wife not to invade my thoughts in inopportune moments, when I might think about knowing you, and your fine collection of red wine.

Here is hoping for the best wishes for you in the New Year, and the next time you uncork a bottle of the red, then think of me, won’t you?

Sincerely, Him

PS. When you do manage to pull the cork out, or unscrew the bottle, whichever the case might be, then I wouldn’t be thinking of my wife if I were you, otherwise the whole mess will start all over again……

The Car Done Broke

Broke my heart, too

Lousy, no good, metal machine. Nothing can fix it.

Not Love nor Money,


The car done broke

not anyplace nice, in the middle of the street,

where them others don’t like me,

laughing at me, they be,


I kick the tire, not the one that done broke

but it feel good under my shoe, with the hole in it

the shoe, not the tire, which don’t

done broke,


The car done broke

I can’t fix the year

of when the car was born,

when I be happy, once


The car is laughing

at my way to speak,

broke is your English,

done broke like me……

Driving to the Lake – Chapter 22 (The Girl Next Door)

I don’t know exactly, but I felt like Ricky and Lucy on the way to California. Fred Mertz had packed their car with things hanging off the sides, the top and everywhere else. He had left a small hole where Ricky could see out of the front windshield, but even I could see, that they would never make it to California like that.

We had a bit more than my father had reckoned with, which meant that if the car was completely packed with all of our things, then we might as well spend the time camping out at home for all the room there wasn’t in both front and back. My father just shook his head and began to sift through the various piles. “If only your mother….” with that thought left unsaid, but could have been one of the following things:

  • had been here. Her intelligent ways would have solved our problems immediately.
  • had seen this mess, she would have yelled at us, until the cows came home
  • had seen that the Girl Next Door was going with us, then heads would fly
  • had experienced a fatal traffic accident, and couldn’t remember who we were…

He didn’t finish that statement, nor did he chose to use any of my suggestions either. We tried to put things into 1. clothing; 2. essentials; 3. games; 4. food.

Essentials for my father were copies of Fly Fishing Digest and Garage Monthly, while I chose a ball, a few books and a baseball bat, without baseball. My friend had any number of unnamed boxes which had to be taken along, or else!

We finally weeded out a few of the larger things, like a footstool, an ironing board and a set of Winter Tires. My mother would have insisted on those things, and would have forced the rest of us to re-examine our essentials, leaving them at home instead. I might have been brave enough to point out that Winter Tires in the middle of Summer might be overkill, but she would just bring up the poor Donner Family in California, and how they only had their Summer Tires to chew on, when they had run out of food on their vacation. Naturally, Winter Tires would be more filling, and would have gotten them to the next filling station, and customary gift shop.

After my father had checked the doors and windows, and especially the lock on the garage door, we set off at last. It really didn’t seem like the time had gotten to be 11am, but then The Ricardos and The Mertzes couldn’t have left New York any earlier, I’m certain of that.

My father yelled, “We’re Off”, like some fellow in a checkered shirt firing his pistol at the start of the race. A voice called out from the crowd. Oh My God, he’s been shot! And everyone’s attention get diverted from the race to the man on the top row. “Stop him. Stop that killer! A dark figure was seen running away from the bleachers, hopping over obstacles, catching himself once or twice from stumbling and falling. Now the race left the confines of the track with everyone and anyone scrambling in the direction of the elusive figure. “Grab onto your varicose veins!” an old Geezer yelled after the crowd exited the area, leaving plenty of hot dogs and Cotton Candy to eat in the wake of the confusion. The man that was shot was heard to utter the following words: “He did it. *cough* cough*” with blood running down the side of his mouth. The one-armed man did it, but it wasn’t him that fired the shot. Everyone present looked from side to side, trying to make heads or tails of these cryptic words. Then suddenly….

“Hey. Poindexter! Isn’t it great that you have the privilege of my company on this trip?” She looked at me with a wink, knowing that I was lost in my thoughts once again. If only I knew what to say to her, then maybe I’d stay in the present?

“It must be years since I’ve been on vacation”, she said, breaking into my thoughts. “The last time was when we went on a lion safari in Botswana. My father bagged a nice one, but the authorities confiscated it ,when they found we were trying to smuggle Coffee out of the Country. My father started to argue with the border authorities, when one of the guards pulled out his pistol. My father grabbed the lion’s head, and hit the road, leaving me with his passport and bottle of whiskey. They searched for weeks, but never found a trace of him. Years later my mother and I got a letter, which had postmarks from no less than 10 African Countries across the backside, with my father’s message to us in an unintelligible code:

Rickets, Rackets who has my Sackets. Peron has one, but he gave it to Samuel. Yours Truly. Truely.

My mother began to cry at the mere mention of Peron, who had been my father’s faithful native water bearer, during his travels along the Chobe River. He was indebted to my father, when a sudden flood occurred during the rainy season in December. He had lost his footing while attempting to fill the water jugs, and plunged into the surging river. He was swept away into Zimbabwe until he came dangerously close to Victoria Falls. My father well-versed in the act of lasso throwing, succeeded in casting his lasso out in the surging waters to Peron, and exhibiting almost super human strength, he was able to drag him ashore, just before he was dashed to his death on the rocks beneath those spectacular falls. Peron swore on a stack of bibles after that incident to serve my father until the day of his death, which was the start of a friendship that only a few in this life will ever experience.”

My mouth was wide open, while she told me that story. I couldn’t find a single word to say, or even attempt to daydream myself to another place, because her story was so gripping that I couldn’t believe my ears.

She just looked at me after telling her story and smiled, as if we were the only 2 people in that car, speeding along toward Lake Winnipuh, towards our honeymoon suite. With this ring I thee…..

“But as I said, my life tends to be a bit complicated”, she said as she looked out of the window once again. “I can’t wait until we get there! Maybe there is a lion head on the wall, which is hiding a secret message from my father?” said, as I almost choked on my Pixie Straw with its bittersweet candy inside.

“Hey kids, look over there. A marauding flock of Wildebeests.” Craning our necks to the left, the only thing visible was a herd of cows, chewing their cud, totally unaware of us. “Just kidding!” I can’t wait until we reach the cabin and our vacation can finally start! Just think of it. A cold drink enjoyed on the veranda, with the sun shining down, on my latest issue of Garage Monthly, waiting to see, who has won the contest this month for “The Most Innovative Garage this side of the Chobe River!”.

Wait a minute. Did he just say Chobe River? Wasn’t that in my friend’s story? I turned towards her to see her reaction, but was greeted by the sight of a lion’s head mounted on the wall of the safari shelter.

“Did you bring your gun with you, Bwana?” A tall, but extremely thin native was standing in front of me, waiting for a reply.

“I didn’t catch your name”, which I hadn’t having just come in the door after being caught in the torrential rains of December.

“Peron is my name. Just Peron!” I saw dim images resembling water jugs stacked in the corner of the shelter, and ragged suitcases belonging to someone long, long ago.

“Do you know of a man who…”.Then I was stymied. I didn’t even know her father’s name, let alone what he looked like.

My friend seemed to be asleep, but awakened when I touched her arm. “Oh, it’s you. I thought it was the doctor telling me that my mother had contracted Malaria after having searched for my father in Zimbabwe, and Botswana. He also touched my arm in the same place. Funny thing isn’t it?” I didn’t want to ruin her memory of that moment, but I had to ask what her father looked like, otherwise I’d never get back to my conversation with Peron and his water jugs.

“He was rather tall, with brown hair and blue eyes. He always joked with my mother telling her, how he’d never fit in with the indigenous population looking like that, but that didn’t keep him out of doing his job in Africa. He loved Diamond Mining and was good at it as well. His workers respected and adored him, which is probably why my mother fell in love with him way back when at that Cotillion held at the embassy in the capital city of Gaberone.”

I excused myself, striding out into the blazing sun of the Botswana Summer. I needed to travel back to that shelter, before my time ran out. Finally, I found the shelter, but the man, Peron was long gone, which I discovered by feeling the temperature of the coals in the fire ring. His water jugs were also gone, which made me want to follow his tracks, along the Chobe River in search of my friend’s father and his faithful companion.

My father let out a “Whoop”, which sounded like a wild Indian on the American Plains, when we reached the entrance to Lake Winnipuh. Boats were seen in the small harbor to the left, while the check-in cabin was visible on the right. My father parked the car on the side of the road and sauntered up to the cabin, pulling out his wallet with the reservation hanging out, threatening to fall.

My friend sighed a sigh, and turned toward me while we waited. “Did you find him in time?”

“Sadly no, but I did speak to Peron, and was certain that I could follow his tracks down the Chobe River.” She took my hand and looked into my eyes. I felt a warm feeling radiating in my limbs, making me want to draw her closer and kiss her. Just when the moment that we both had been waiting for came, my father returned to the car.

“I have it! I have it here”, he said waving a piece of paper and a set of keys. “Now we are ready to rock and roll!” said as if we were about to strip naked down to our waists and set fire to the band!

My friend just looked at me and said, “This will be a vacation, you never will forget. Mark my words….”

Then I knew it! I knew, regardless of me finding Peron, or not, this still was going to be something that I would never forget…..never!

Learning Danish Backwards, Forwards.

Or, understanding it forwards?

OK. My conscience has gotten the better of me in 2017, and I’ve decided to treat my readers better…..at least in January, well here on the first. It is easy to promise for a whole year, and not deliver, when it is only the first day of many, even more confusing ones of that year!

Remember this here?


Well, here is what it means in English, with the words placed correctly in order to sound like English:

After you have read this message backwards, you will certainly hit that idiot who sent it to you, but it also made you smile, and that was the intention.


So you see, it is not words that are dangerous, it is the people behind them….Wait a minute. That come out did not right, it did?

First day bloogging in 2017…..

Danish for Beginners, Just Backwards

I love backwards things, like old computers that everyone else has thrown out, because they were old, useless and generally not pretty anymore.

Some might say that last statement typifies this blog, but the jury might still be out on that one?

Here is your Backwards Danish Test for the last day of 2016.


If you want the answer and think/believe that it is coming in 2017, then you might just be disappointed. The answer lies in 2016, cleverly hidden in one of my older posts!

Or not, or perhaps in one of the 300 or so, which I’ve deleted?

It doesn’t really matter, for all of you who don’t like/care to look back in time, the answer might just be a Zen Riddle, without an answer.

Everybody say, “Om, OM,  OOoooooooooooooooMMM.

Or, not…..

Copenhagen 360 Degrees

Hey. Check out this site:


That is a 360 degree view of Copenhagen, Denmark seen from the top of the Round Tower.

I’ve taken a few screen shots of the major sites, seen on this photo, to help you out in space and time.

Let’s start with a map:


Source: Google Maps

The star marks the location of the Round Tower, where the pictures are taken from.

Here are a few of the highlights:


Folketinget – The Danish Parliament


The Marble Church – near Amalienborg, the Queen’s houseradhuset

Rådhuset – Copenhagen’s Town Hall


Our Saviour’s Church with spiral staircase seen in far background.


Another panorama can be found here:


CSource: Google Maps and Street View



Rosenborg Castle- Home of the Crown Jewels.