Not the good stuff, no.

I try to never use the word ‘hate’ and encourage others to do likewise. Particularly if it is pointed in the direction of another human being. It is horrible as a word and even more horrible as an emotion. Maybe I am just not that emotional, but I can honestly say that I have never hated any person or any thing. Full stop.

On the other hand there are a lot of people and things that really get up my nose and for quite a while I have thought about creating a blog about them. Because the list is endless and could keep me going for the rest of my time on this planet. I’m always angry about something, and most days about quite a few things.

And it just depends on which side of the bed I get out of. Yesterday, for example, I really had it in for the British royal family, crypto currency and frequent flyer programs. Today it doesn’t seem so important. Well …. actually I could rant on about ‘royalty’ and everything it implies 7 days a week (and sometimes do) but if I had any money today I might actually go out and buy some bitcoin.

That is not to suggest that I’m in any sort of good mood today or vaguely likeable myself. No Sir.

Anyway … I did a bit of research into other people who might have the same idea (blogging about stuff that really shits them) and discovered that there are a lot of those people. A lot. And I was sort of disappointed to find one guy who does it so well that the idea of doing it myself now seems a bit silly. So I offer him instead.
Here
It’s possibly worth noting that he seems to have terminated the whole process back in 2013. Perhaps it all got too much for him and he shot himself.
Oh, I should have warned you. He uses some fairly strong language in places. Including the word ‘hate’.

Editor’s note: The author has seen multiple references to #JusJoJan and today a prompt of ‘Justice’. He doesn’t think that there is any such thing as justice but wanted to get on board anyway by jotting down the first thing that came into his head. He apologises to
Linda

Nortina’s suggestion this week is Whirlwind

Inspired a little by Kate
My brief take on it is …..

She came like a whirlwind into my life late on a Tuesday afternoon. It was winter and with the night right behind her she appeared from nowhere through the snow at my window.
“Let me in,” she demanded.
Who could say no?
Once she had removed her coat and shoes and sat warming her toes by the fire I ventured to ask, “where did you come from?”. She chose not to answer directly but instead turned and pointed back out through the same window where all was now dark and bleak. I think I understood.

By Friday afternoon she was rearranging the furniture and instituting compulsory changes to the dietary traditions of the household. She refused to eat any meat other than fish yet smoked 20 cigarettes a day. She repainted the bathroom. Every night when I went to bed she was sitting in the same chair smoking and reading books that had been gathering dust on the shelves for decades. Every morning when I arose she was doing the same. I don’t think she ever slept.

Somewhere during all this she must have changed clothes because she looked just a little bit different every day. Though I don’t remember her coming with luggage. Her hair was long, dark and disheveled when she arrived but short and blonde three days later.

As soon as the weather lifted she was gone. There was a note pinned to the kitchen door.

“Keep watching for me,” the note said.

*******************

I did not have time in the allocated sixty seconds to figure out what it is supposed to mean.

A few prompts appearing in my feed in the last week. Disasters Here and humiliation Here

and whist I have little to say on either subject it does remind me of the fact that the NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge is on again in which I will again be eliminated in round 1
NYC Midnight

Will any one else be there? Or are you all beyond such trivialities?

Linda’s Suggestion

This is not mine ….. I read it a few days ago and it comes from John Safron who was covering some protests in Melbourne that had taken on something of a racist flavour. The City Wine Shop (I have been there more than a few times) sits over the road from Parliament House.

At one stage, he writes about being here at the City Wine Shop, chatting to a waitress. “She’s folding up the tables, ready for the new rally. I say to her ‘When’s the race war starting today?’ and she says ‘Oh, about midday.’