What I do find hard to bear is money in its role as the coinage of virtue and that, I sometimes think, is its biggest role in our society. Many people have protested about advertising and media images that make people feel inadequate. The perfect Mum using the perfect washing powder or producing the perfect meals with perfect ingredients causes other, normal Mums who also go out to work, an unjustified anxiety and sense of failure. The perfect Dad, covering his family with layers of insurance, does much the same things to men. But these messages do more than create inadequacies. They constantly, though much more subtly, correlate money-through possession-with being a good person.

The woman in the ad may be wielding a box of Magic Formula X and a silly smile but behind her and around her lies her real virtue- a(£3,000)fitted kitchen, (£1000)worth of kitchen equipment and a glimpse beyond of wall-to-wall carpets and Dralon upholstery… Take women’s magazines, ostensibly dedicated to the average and virtuous homebody, cooking her heart out on a shoestring. What do we actually see in the glossy, full-coloured photographs? Delicious food, certainly, but served in casseroles that a moment’s thought tell us cost (£40) a throw and laid on tables of a pine’s antiquity worth a month’s salary…

Worse follows. Our little screens bring frightfully nice people into our homes, telling us of their ideals, their devotion to vitamins or bread-making or some such virtue-ridden occupation and there they are, surrounded by gently glowing rosewood, sunk in velvet sofas, framed by hugely expensive potted palms and hunting prints that cost a grand a go…

Thus we learn, Pavlov-style, to associate everything we have been taught to respect-concern for others, good housewifery, good motherhood, hard work, moral excellence-with a back-ground of sumptuous living such as most of us cannot hope to reproduce…

A woman once confided in me her distress that her daughter was living with a married man. ‘I am a Christian woman,’ she said, ‘and find what she is doing wrong. Besides, they have no carpets and they sleep on the floor.’ Which sin do you suppose distressed her more?

Jill Tweedie para “Guardian”, 1978.

Once you have their money … never give it back.
Never pay more for an acquisition than you have to.
Never allow family to stand in the way of opportunity.
A man is only worth the sum of his possessions.
Keep your ears open.
Small print leads to large risk.
Opportunity plus instinct equals profit.
Greed is eternal.
Anything worth doing is worth doing for money.
A deal is a deal … until a better one comes along.
A contract is a contract is a contract (but only between Ferengi).
A Ferengi without profit is no Ferengi at all.
Satisfaction is not guaranteed.
Never place friendship above profit.
A wise man can hear profit in the wind.
Nothing is more important than your health–except for your money.
There’s nothing more dangerous than an honest businessman.
Never make fun of a Ferengi’s mother … insult something he cares about instead.
It never hurts to suck up to the boss.
Peace is good for business.
War is good for business.
She can touch your lobes but never your latinum.
Profit is its own reward.
Never confuse wisdom with luck.
Expand, or die.
Don’t trust a man wearing a better suit than your own.
The bigger the smile, the sharper the knife.
Never ask when you can take.
Good customers are as rare as latinum — treasure them.
There is no substitute for success.
Free advice is seldom cheap.
Keep your lies consistent.
The riskier the road, the greater the profit.
Win or lose, there’s always Hyperian beetle snuff.
Home is where the heart is … but the stars are made of latinum.
Every once in a while, declare peace. It confuses the hell out of your enemies.
Beware of the Vulcan greed for knowledge.
The flimsier the product, the higher the price.
Never let the competition know what you’re thinking.
Ask not what your profits can do for you, but what you can do for your profits.
Females and finances don’t mix.
Enough … is never enough.
Trust is the biggest liability of all.
Nature decays, but latinum lasts forever.
Sleep can interfere with profit.
Faith moves mountains … of inventory.
There is no honour in poverty.
Dignity and an empty sack is worth the sack.
Treat people in your debt like family … exploit them.
Never have sex with the boss’s sister.
Always have sex with the boss.
You can’t free a fish from water.
Everything is for sale, even friendship.
Even a blind man can recognize the glow of latinum.
Wives serve, brothers inherit.
Only fools pay retail.
There’s nothing wrong with charity … as long as it winds up in your pocket.
Even in the worst of times someone turns a profit.
Know your enemies … but do business with them always.
Not even dishonesty can tarnish the shine of profit.
Let others keep their reputation. You keep their money.
Never cheat a Klingon … unless you’re sure you can get away with it.
It’s always good business to know about new customers before they walk in the door.
The justification for profit is profit.
New customers are like razortoothed grubworms. They can be succulent, but sometimes they can bite back.
Employees are rungs on the ladder of success. Don’t hesitate to step on them.
Never begin a negotiation on an empty stomach.
Always know what you’re buying.
Beware the man who doesn’t make time for oo-mox.
Latinum lasts longer than lust.
You can’t buy fate.
Never be afraid to mislabel a product.
More is good … all is better.
A wife is a luxury … a smart accountant is a necessity.
A wealthy man can afford anything except a conscience.
Never allow doubt to tarnish your love of latinum.
When in doubt, lie.
Deep down everyone’s a Ferengi.
No good deed ever goes unpunished.
[Quark's rule] When Morn leaves, it’s all over.

*

Stages of Acquisition.

Infatuation: An unreasoning love or attraction … “I want it.”

Justification: Moral excuse used to explain … “I must have it!”

Appropriation: To take to one’s self in exclusion of others … “IT’S MINE AT LAST!”

Obsession: A compulsive or irrational preoccupation … “Precious!”

Resale: The action of selling something previously bought … “Make me an offer.”

———
Funny, isn’t it?

Remember. From the cat’s instinctive point of view, the animal world consists of:

1) things that eat it

2) things it can eat

3) things it can eat but will regret immediately;

and

4) other cats.

But we then expect it to be perfectly at ease when faced with:

a) Meals On Treadwheels

b) meals in cages(the Flying NcNuggets)

c) mad quivering meals in hutches, which in the worst cases may be forced to join our Real cat, plus two dolls and a teddy bear, for a black-lawn tea party consisting of water and crumbled biscuits

d) feathery meals which actually encouraged to come onto the black lawn for breadcrumbs

e) meals in ponds

f) large grubby barking things

g) miscellaneous

It’s a wonder they stay sane. In fact, as all Real cat owners know, cats get around most problems caused by all of the above by pretending they don’t exist. Just like us, really.

The only household pet I have ever known actually faze a Real cat is a tortoise. This may be because a cat has problems coming to terms with the fact that a tortoise is a fellow fauna. It appears to be a small piece of scenery which inexplicably moves about.

These days you don’t shove a tortoise in a box to tough it out for the winter, since no one makes tortoises any more and they change hands, people keep telling us, for zillions of pounds. We used to let ours doze the winter away in front of the fire, lurching awake every day or two for a bit of lettuce. A peaceful, untroubled existence, but one which did not appeal to Real cat because a tortoise is impossible to frighten. Tortoise don’t know the meaning of the world ‘fear’ or, indeed, any other word. Oh, they nip into their shell at a passing shadow out of common sense, but as far as they are concerned the presence of a cat in front of the fire just means that here’s a pile of fur that is nice to burrow under. They sneak up on it, because for tortoises there’s no other way, and the first the cat knows is when the edge of a shell is purposefully levering it off the carpet. The cat goes and sits in the corner and looks worried. And then one of them develops an unnatural appetite for cat food. The Real cat sits looking gnomically at a shell seesawing madly on the edge of its dish, and sighs deeply.

Terry Pratchett, “The Unadulterated Cat”.

Life is too short to have sorrow
You may be here today and gone tomorrow
You might as well get what you want
So go on and live, baby go on and live

They didn’t mean it. Unintentional double-entendre titles.

“Games You Can Play with Your Pussy”
“Enid Blyton’s Gay Story Book”
“Penetrating Wgner’s Ring”
“The Big Problem of Small Organs”
“Queer Doings in the Navy”

We have a book on it. Atonishingly specialized subjects.

“Why People move”
“Shoe Bottom Costing”
“Sodomy and the Pirate Tradition: English Sea Rovers in the Seventeenth Century Caribbean”
“Selected Themes and Icons from Spanish Literature: Of Beards, Shoes, Cucumbers, and Leprosy”
“The Foul and the Fragrant: Odor and the French Social Image”
“European Spoons before 1700″
“What to Say when You Talk to Yourself”
“The toothbrush: its Use and Abuse”
“A User’s Guide to Capitalism and Schizophrenia”
“How to Write While You Sleep”
“Cannibalism and the Common Law: A Victorian Yachting Tragedy”

Bad hair day.

“Philosophy of Red Hair”
“The Unconscious Significance of Hair”
“Pro Sacertodum Barbis”
“New Views on Baldness”

Dirty books.

“Dirt: A Social History as Seen Through the Uses and Abuses of Dirt”
“It’s a Gas! A Study of Flatulence”

The wonderful world of nature. Weird books on plants and animals.

“Fishes I Have Known”
“Do Snakes Have Legs?”
“Rats for Those Who Care”
“Fish Who Answer the Telephone”
“Did a Hen or an Egg Exist First?or, My Talks with a Sceptic”

In sickness and in heatlh. Medical oddities and sick titles.

“Cancer: Is the Dog the Cause?”
“The Itinerary of a Breakfast”
“My Prostate and Me”
“The Abuse of Elderly People: A Handbook for Professionals”
“Syphilis:or, A Poetical History of the French Disease”
“The Prostate: A Guide for Men and the Women Who Love Them”

Love, marriage and… Encounters, exotic and erotic.

“Literature of Kissing”
“Be Married and Like It”
“Stop in the Name of Love: Ejaculation Control for life”

Bizarre Books, Russel Ash & Brian Lake.

Relato

Una mañana a mediodía, junto al parque Monceau, en la plataforma trasera de un autobús casi completo de la línea S (en la actualidad el 84), observé a un personaje con el cuello bastante largo que llevaba un sombrero de fieltro rodeado de un cordón trenzado en lugar de cinta. Este individuo interpeló, de golpe y porrazo, a su vecino, pretendiendo que le pisoteaba adrede cada vez que subían o bajaban viajeros. Pero abandonó rápidamente la discusión para lanzarse sobre un sitio que había quedado libre.
Dos horas más tarde, volví a verlo delante de la estación de Saint-Lazare, conversando con un amigo que le aconsejaba disminuir el escote del abrigo haciéndose subir el botón superior por algún sastre competente.

Telegráfico

BUS ABARROTADO STOP JOVEN CUELLO LARGO SOMBRERO CORDÓN APOSTROFA VIAJERO DESCONOCIDO SIN PRETEXTO VALIDO STOP PROBLEMA DEDOS PIES ESTRUJADOS CONTACTO PRESUMIBLEMENTE. ADREDE STOP JOVEN ABANDONA DISCUSIÓN POR SITIO LIBRE STOP CATORCE HORAS PLAZA ROMA JOVEN ESCUCHA CONSEJOS INDUMENTARIOS COMPAÑERO STOP DESPLAZAR BOTÓN STOP FIRMADO ARCTURUS

Exclamaciones

¡Ostras! ¡Las doce! ¡Hora de coger el autobús] ¡Cuánta gente! ¡Cuánta gente! ¡Qué apreturas! ¡Qué gracia! ¡Ese pollo! ¡Qué jeta! ¡Y qué cuello! ¡Setenta y cinco centímetros! ¡Por lo menos! ¡Y el cordón! ¡Vaya cordón! ¡No lo había visto! ¡El cordón! ¡Es lo más gracioso! ¡Sí, eso! ¡El cordón! ¡En el sombrero! ¡Un cordón! ¡Gracioso! ¡Muy gracioso! ¡Y mira cómo se cabrea! ¡El del cordón! ¡Con un vecino! ¡Lo que le larga!
¡Mira el otro! ¡Que le ha pisoteado! ¡Se van a dar de tortas! ¡Seguro! ¡A que no! ¡A que sí! ¡Dale! ¡Dale! ¡Párte le la cara! ¡Venga! ¡Atízale! ¡Mecachis en la mar! ¡No!
¡Se arruga! ¡El tío! ¡Y qué cuello! ¡Y qué cordón! ¡Mira cómo vuela al asiento! ¡Allá va! ¡El tío!
¡Mira! ¡Anda! ¡No! ¡No me equivoco! ¡Es él! ¡Seguro! ¡Allí! ¡Allí mismo! ¡En la plaza de Roma! ¡Delante de la estación de Saint-Lazare! ¡Paseándose de arriba abajo! ¡Y con otro tipo!¡Y las tontadas que le está diciendo el otro! ¡Que se añada un botón! ¡En el abrigo! ¡Sí! ¡Sí! ¡En el abrigo!

Negatividades

No era ni un barco, ni un avión, sino un medio de transporte terrestre. No era por la mañana, ni por la tarde, sino a mediodía. No era ni un bebé, ni un anciano, sino un joven. No era ni una cinta, ni un bramante, sino un cordón trenzado. No era ni una procesión, ni una trifulca, sino un atropellamiento. No era ni un amable, ni un malvado, sino un colérico. No era ni una verdad, ni una mentira, sino un pretexto. No era ni uno derecho, ni uno yacente, sino uno que quería estar sentado.
No era ni la víspera, ni el día siguiente, sino el mismo día. No era la estación del Norte, ni la estación de Lión, sino la estación de Saint-Lazare. No era ni un pariente, ni un desconocido, sino un amigo. No era ni un insulto, ni una burla, sino un consejo sobre indumentaria.

Precisiones

A las 12 h. 17 m. en un autobús de la línea S, de 10 metros de largo, 2,10 de ancho y 3,50 de altura, a 3 km. 600 m. de su punto de partida, cargado con 48 personas, un individuo de sexo masculino, de 27 años, 3 meses y 8 días de edad, 1 m. 72 cm. de talla y 65 kg. de peso, que llevaba en la cabeza un sombrero de 17 cm. de alto cuya copa estaba rodeada por un cordón de 35 cm. de largo, interpela a un hombre de 48 años, 4 meses y 3 días de edad, 1 m. 68 cm. de talla y 77 kg. de peso, por medio de 14 palabras, cuya enunciación duró 5 segundos, alusivas a desplazamientos involuntarios de 15 a 20mm. Va enseguida a sentarse a unos 2 m. 10 cm. de allí.
118 minutos más tarde, se encontraba a 10 metros de la estación de Saint-Lazare, en la entrada de cercanías, y se paseaba de arriba abajo sobre un trayecto de 30 metros, con un compañero de 28 años de edad, 1 m. 70 cm. de talla y 71 kg. de peso, quien le aconsejó con 15 palabras desplazar 5 cm., en dirección al cenit, un botón de 3 cm. de diámetro.

Geométrico

En el paralelepípedo rectangular que se desplaza a lo largo de una línea recta de ecuación 84 x+S=y, un homoide A que presenta un casquete esférico rodeado por dos sinusoides, sobre una parte cilíndrica de longitud 1 >n, presenta un punto de intersección con un homoide trivial B. Demostrar que este punto de intersección es un punto de inflexión.
Si el homoide A encuentra un homoide homólogo C, entonces el punto de intersección es un disco de radio r

Impotente

¿Cómo expresar la impresión que produce el contacto de diez cuerpos apretujados en la plataforma trasera de un autobús S una mañana hacia el mediodía por la calle de Lisboa? ¿Cómo describir la impresión que causa contemplar un personaje de cuello disformemente largo, con un sombrero cuya cinta ha sido remplazada, sin saber por qué, por un trozo de cordón? ¿Cómo reflejar la impresión que produce una pelea entre un tranquilo viajero injustamente acusado de pisotear adrede a alguien y este grotesco cualquiera, precisamente el personaje antes descrito? ¿Cómo traducir la impresión que provoca la huida de este último, disimulando su cobardía con el vil pretexto de aprovechar un sitio libre?
¿Cómo relatar, por último, la impresión que causa la reaparición de este sujeto delante de la estación de Saint-Lazare, dos horas más tarde, en compañía de un amigo elegante que le sugería mejoras indumentarias?

Galicismos

Un jour hacia el midi, él me ha arribado de rencontrar sobre la plataforma arriera de un autobús de la líñea Es un monsieur con un cou trop elongado y un chapeau tutafé extraordinario. Este monsieur là se ha metido a discutar con un otro monsieur en accusándolo notamente de le pietinar sobre los pies exprés; y menazaba de lui cassar la figura. Todo a golpe este meco como él ve una plaza libre, se precipita para allí sentar.
Dos horas aprés lo reveo sobre el trottero de Cour de Rome en tren de baladarse con un camarada que le daba de consejos para hacer meter un otro botón en su parasobre.

Latín macarrónico

Sol erat in regionem zenithi et calor atmospherae magnissima. Sena tus populusque parisiensis sudabant. Autobi pasabant completi. In uno ex supradictis autobibus qui S denominationem portabat, hominem quasi juvenum, cum collo molto elongato et cum sombrero a cordincula trenzata circulato vidi. Iste junior insultavit alterum hominem qui proximus erat: pisoteat, inquit, pedes meos post deliberationem animae tuae. Tunc, sedem liberam vidente, cucurrit ibi.
Sol duas horas in coelo habebat descenditus. Sancti Lazari stationem ferroviariam pasante delante, jovenum supradictum cum alterum ejusdem calagniae qui arbiter elegantiarum erat et qui de uno ex botonis capae junioris consilium donabat vidi.

Versos libres

El autobús
lleno
el corazón
vacío
el cuello
largo
el cordón
trenzado
los pies planos
planos y aplanados
el sitio
vacío

y el inesperado encuentro junto a la estación de mil luces apagadas
del corazón, del cuello, del cordón, de los pies,
del sitio vacío
y de un botón.

RAYMOND QUENEAU.

There’s a period between four and six in the evening when the day seems to hang, motionles and idle in the air. The work day is gone, and your mind needs the kind of rest that reading won’t provide; the evening news hasn’t yet come on TV, it is too early to start thinking about what to have for dinner. The sun has lowered, its rays are reclining, the light is long, inviting. This is the perfect time for a nap, and I’ve taken one almost every day of my adult life. Here are the rules I’ve discovered.

It’s important, if possible, not to nap in bed, since you can’t always stop yourself from falling into a too-deep sleep and waking an hour or two later. Long naps are a disaster; you never quite wake up from them, and you’ll never get back to sleep that night, either, so you’ll spend the rest of the evening in torpid dread. Stay out of bed: napping on the couch is much better, or even on the floor, or in the passenger seat of a car while someone else is driving. A blanket may be used, but not beed sheets; and you must wear more clothing than you do at night: if you sleep naked, some form of underwear is obligatory for napping; if you sleep topless, a shirt; and if you sleep in pyjamas, I suppose you have to nap with your shoes on. You may drool on the pillow, or on your sleeve if that’s where your head’s resting. For some reason, napping with the radio on is less satisfying then napping with the television on. If you own a dog, he should be in the same room as you: dogs are experts in the art of dozing, and man and beast nod off twice as well together as either does alone. You may freely snore in your own living room, but if you nap in public, be prepared to bolt awake with dazed and foolish expression, and find other people staring at you.

Why are long naps so much more disorienting than a full night’s sleep? Your senses are so slow to come and get you. They dawdle and arrive at different times. Your hearing is the first to come alive again: the sound of someone entering the room, the murmur of conversation outside the door, a police siren passing below. Then you see where you are, you’re on the couch, you’re in your living room, but your body is still asleep, you’re still breathing like a patient under gas, and there’s a very brief moment of panic-paralysed!- but no, this arm’s working, the other arm, you oull your knees up and groan softly, blink your eyes, smack your lips, sigh. Everything worldly is as you left it; only the clock has turned forward, and you have changed exactly that much.

Men tend to nap more often than women- or so it seems from the surveys I’ve conducted among my friends and acquaintances. If it’s true for the population as a whole, I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s a matter of metabolism, maybe of conditioning, maybe simply of opportunity. Whatever it is, I suspect it’s the same cause that makes men fall asleep inmediately after sex, while women lie awake; but I don’t know. Like most differences between men and women, it may be inherent, or it may be contingent, or it may not be real at all, so I’ll just mention it and move on.

Jim Lewis, “Notes from the Land of Nod”. GRANTA 88.

Someday your face will freeze like that!

What if everyone jumped off a cliff…Would you do it, too?

You’re going to put your eye out with that thing!

Don’t put that in your mouth…you don’t know where it’s been.

Did you flush?

I hope someday you have children just like you.

If I have to get out of this chair!

Don’t eat that, you’ll get worms!

A little soap and water never killed anyone!

You could have been dead in a ditch for all I knew!

Don’t use that tone with me!

You won’t be happy until you break that, will you!

You’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached to your shoulders!

You’d better wipe that smile off your face before I come and do it for you!

What part of the word no don’t you understand?

Why? Because I said so, that’s why?

Now come back downstairs and go back up again without stamping your feet!

I’ve told you a million times, don’t exaggerate!

Go tidy your room-and be ruthless with it!

Your eyes are bigger than your belly!

It’ll end in tears!

Allison Vale and Alison Rattle, Mothers’ Wit.