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Snow, Stoplights, Airports and Valentine's Day

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Snow, Stoplights, Airports, and Valentine's Day

That melodic tune must mean it’s time for another episode of philosophy by Markus Tenacious Noggin.

You know when I was dropped on my head by a doctor I stood right up and gave him an earful’s worth. That’s why my mother said, “Mark my words, that’s one tenacious arguer.” And so she named me -- Markus Tenacious Noggin.

MT Noggin at your service.

I don’t know what it is about that guy who is just before me here and his high-falutin’ words. I told him I should come in here and talk some common sense.

We did have a little snow today. The missus used to say it warn’t winter without some snow. I dunno, there were some crazy people drivin’ around on Sunday today way too fast, passin’ me at the stop light to get ahead ‘a me ‘cause I ain’t stoppin’ fast enough.

Where they goin’ so fast on a Sunday? Maybe they want to get there to watch the other people be late. But as the good news is now, they’re in front ‘a me and I don’t have to worry about them crashin’ into the back ‘a my truck. Yeah, that never works out well for a car.

Here’s some random topics from MT Noggin:

I been thinkin’ about them airports. I used to walk the wings on those bi-planes. You know those blimps and zeppleins. I was there when the Hindenburg exploded;

lots of fire and the smell of burnin’ rubber.

Now, you gotta take off yur shoes, yur belt, get groped, decide you like it, go back to yur car for the stuff you fergot. Get groped agin. Sit in those tiny seats next to somebody big and smelly, and get sneezed on.

Here’s my advice fer you when the uh, steward or stewardess or flight attendant, if I’m speakin’ correctly, axe you if you want a drink, ask fer the whole can. They’ll give it to yuh. Might as well git yur money’s wurth.

There is something about flying through the air without worrying about road rash at the end, but that’s another story.

Here’s some more random thoughts.

Well the legislature’s in session. Ain’t no one and no where safe when the people’s representatives start to jaw-boning.

This week is Valentine’s day. Is that the only day we say ‘et we love that special someone? All I can say is buy some chocolates and just don’t fergit to take out the garbig.

It’s elections time; all those people jaw-boning agin, trying to become the next leader of the free world -- the world’s worst job.

None of the above is winnin’ in my book, but my vote can still be bought.

This has been another set of random topics by yours truly, MT Noggin.

Just remember you heard it here first from Markus Tenacious Noggin, MT Noggin at you service, just MT most of the time.

Mares eat oats

And does eat oats

And little lambs eat ivy

A kid’ll eat ivy too

Wouldn’t you?

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Sonnet One hundred and forty by William Shakespeare

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Sonnet CXL

by William Shakespeare

Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press

My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain;

Lest sorrow lend me words and words express

The manner of my pity-wanting pain.

If I might teach thee wit, better it were,

Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so;

As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,

No news but health from their physicians know;

For if I should despair, I should grow mad,

And in my madness might speak ill of thee:

Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,

Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be,

That I may not be so, nor thou belied,

Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.

 

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Sonnet 140

Sonnet One hundred and thirty-nine by William Shakespeare

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Sonnet CXXXIX

by William Shakespeare

O, call not me to justify the wrong

That thy unkindness lays upon my heart;

Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue;

Use power with power and slay me not by art.

Tell me thou lovest elsewhere, but in my sight,

Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside:

What need'st thou wound with cunning when thy might

Is more than my o'er-press'd defense can bide?

Let me excuse thee: ah! My love well knows

Her pretty looks have been mine enemies,

And therefore from my face she turns my foes,

That they elsewhere might dart their injuries:

Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,

Kill me outright with looks and rid my pain.

 

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Sonnet 139

Sonnet One hundred and thirty-eight by William Shakespeare

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Sonnet CXXXVIII

by William Shakespeare

When my love swears that she is made of truth

I do believe her, though I know she lies,

That she might think me some untutor'd youth,

Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.

Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,

Although she knows my days are past the best,

Simply I credit her false speaking tongue:

On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd.

But wherefore says she not she is unjust?

And wherefore say not I that I am old?

O, love's best habit is in seeming trust,

And age in love loves not to have years told:

Therefore I lie with her and she with me,

And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.

 

 

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Sonnet 138

Sonnet One hundred and thirty-seven by William Shakespeare

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Sonnet CXXXVII

by William Shakespeare

Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes,

That they behold, and see not what they see?

They know what beauty is, see where it lies,

Yet what the best is take the worst to be.

If eyes corrupt by over-partial looks

Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride,

Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks,

Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied?

Why should my heart think that a several plot

Which my heart knows the wide world's common place?

Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not,

To put fair truth upon so foul a face?

In things right true my heart and eyes have erred,

And to this false plague are they now transferr'd.

 

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Sonnet 137

Sonnet One hundred and thirty-five by William Shakespeare

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Sonnet CXXXV

by William Shakespeare

Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy 'Will,'

And 'Will' to boot, and 'Will' in overplus;

More than enough am I that vex thee still,

To thy sweet will making addition thus.

Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious,

Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine?

Shall will in others seem right gracious,

And in my will no fair acceptance shine?

The sea all water, yet receives rain still

And in abundance addeth to his store;

So thou, being rich in 'Will,' add to thy 'Will'

One will of mine, to make thy large 'Will' more.

Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill;

Think all but one, and me in that one 'Will.'

 

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Sonnet 135

Sonnet One hundred and thirty-four by William Shakespeare

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Sonnet CXXXIV

by William Shakespeare

So, now I have confess'd that he is thine,

And I myself am mortgaged to thy will,

Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine

Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still:

But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free,

For thou art covetous and he is kind;

He learn'd but surety-like to write for me

Under that bond that him as fast doth bind.

The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take,

Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use,

And sue a friend came debtor for my sake;

So him I lose through my unkind abuse.

Him have I lost; thou hast both him and me:

He pays the whole, and yet am I not free.

 

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Sonnet 134

Sonnet One hundred and thirty-three by William Shakespeare

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Sonnet CXXXIII

by William Shakespeare

Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan

For that deep wound it gives my friend and me!

Is't not enough to torture me alone,

But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?

Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken,

And my next self thou harder hast engross'd:

Of him, myself, and thee, I am forsaken;

A torment thrice threefold thus to be cross'd.

Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward,

But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail;

Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard;

Thou canst not then use rigor in my gaol:

And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee,

Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.

 

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Sonnet 133

Sonnet One hundred and thirty-two by William Shakespeare

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Sonnet CXXXII by William Shakespeare

Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,

Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain,

Have put on black and loving mourners be,

Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.

And truly not the morning sun of heaven

Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east,

Nor that full star that ushers in the even

Doth half that glory to the sober west,

As those two mourning eyes become thy face:

O, let it then as well beseem thy heart

To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace,

And suit thy pity like in every part.

Then will I swear beauty herself is black

And all they foul that thy complexion lack.

 

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Sonnet 132

Sonnet One hundred and thirty-one by William Shakespeare

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Sonnet CXXXI by William Shakespeare

Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art,

As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel;

For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart

Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.

Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold

Thy face hath not the power to make love groan:

To say they err I dare not be so bold,

Although I swear it to myself alone.

And, to be sure that is not false I swear,

A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face,

One on another's neck, do witness bear

Thy black is fairest in my judgment's place.

In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds,

And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds.

 

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Sonnet 131