On the perils of being clever
Anne of Green Gables, L.M. Montgomery
Winnie-the-Pooh, A.A. Milne
The Bacchae, Euripides
The Magic Mountain, Thomas Mann
The Importance of Being Earnest, Oscar Wilde
Equal Rites, Terry Pratchett
Fight Club, dir. David Fincher
Free, Florence + The Machine
Fight Club, dir. David Fincher
I Know It‘s Over, The Smiths
The Mysterious Affair at Styles, Agatha Christie
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'Mr Stibbons was right, was he?' said Ridcully, staring at Ponder. 'How did you work that out so exactly, Mr Stibbons?'
'I, er . . . ' Ponder felt the eyes of the wizards on him. 'I-' He stopped. 'It was a lucky guess, sir.'
The wizards relaxed. They were extremely uneasy with cleverness, but lucky guessing was what being a wizard was all about.
'Well done, that man,' said Ridcully, nodding. 'Wipe your forehead, Mr Stibbons, you've got away with it again.'
-- Terry Pratchett - The Last Hero
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Like a Fox
Ever the one calling me the liar,
Having the fox's tongue.
Rather than wondering why the lie
Popped out of my mouth first and foremost.
I was, after all, so young
And you'd still referred to me as a fox.
A liar like a fox.
I came to hate him for his existence within me,
Too young to understand the truth.
The truth that the fox's vicious lie
Comprised only one facet of him.
But I, nevertheless, had dewy eyes when
I was gifted with those cute pink pyjamas.
And the fox stamp was plastered on my chests.
Are they referring to me as a fox?
A liar like a fox?
Still disliking him while my hormones grew,
Still in the sense my every word was a lie, if not vindicated.
Blinded by my defences, to comprehend the fox.
I would compose clever words, and he would assist me
Unbeknownst to me.
I was looking for my independence, to utilise my intelligence,
And the fox stood in the corner of my eye, watchful,
Eager to copy my moves.
Too late, I noticed that he wasn’t copying, he was mirroring.
Am I referring to myself as a fox?
A liar like a fox?
So, my mother perceived something within me,
Something mirroring outwards.
She then questioned who he was, and I answered
He was a fox. I was a liar like a fox.
That's all I was ever told, whereas
All I ever wanted was the eyes,
With pride and interest, pinned on my own being.
I have shown that in every impossible way,
Yet all that was a lie.
They’d referred to me as a fox.
A liar like a fox.
How strange it was to see the smiling eyes in her
As she pointed out that an upside down six is a nine.
And vice-versa.
The way a fox thrives in the wild, agile and adaptable.
Ginger fur like fire, like the copper strands on my skull.
In the winter, they morph into white.
In the desert, they morph into sand.
The sharp tiny fangs,
Dangerous for enemies and tricky for friends.
She then added:
— And his curiosity? That's part of him.
And I gazed at her with open eyes, brain racing.
Every time they referred to me as a liar, it turned out to be a lie?
Not a liar like a fox?
Now, I am finally in peace with him, with the fox.
The truth is, the fox is me, and I'm the fox.
It’s just a part of me.
Let me not be branded by a singular aspect of a concept.
For we're not singular, we're multiples.
I am not a liar as a fox,
Just like a fox.
~🫀
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Puss in Boots (Story)
In a quaint little village, there lived a clever and resourceful cat named Puss. Despite his small stature, Puss possessed an insatiable appetite for adventure and a quick wit that set him apart from the other cats. His master, a poor miller, owned nothing more than a small mill and a pair of boots.
When the miller passed away, Puss inherited his master’s boots, and he soon discovered that these…
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Good morning. 🍃🍃🍃
May the 4th be with you 😂. I just learned that the day is Star Wars Day. Is it a national holiday? Should it be? I saw many posts on Mastodon this morning about Star Wars Day but with Star Trek mems, and assume they were intentional lighthearted snubs from Star Trek fans, so Live Long and Prosper.
Pigeons are persistent, and clever. I thought that I partially foiled their efforts to eat all of the bird seed with my hanging feeders because they have to hover to get at the seed. it takes too much energy to do for long. But they devised a way to get the seed by taking turns and knocking seeds to the ground. They also, I believe, have lookouts to keep an eye on the feeders and report when they get filled, amazing. I still try to discourage them from hanging around.
“Wit is the sudden marriage of ideas which before their union were not perceived to have any relation. ”
― Mark Twain
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‘The world will be very different,’ said Mr. Femm, slowly, ‘when all the people have been cleared out of it, and not before. Men and women do not change. Their silly antics are always the same. There will always be a few clever ones, who can see a yard or two in front of their noses, and a host of fools who can see nothing, who are all befuddled, who pride themselves on being virtuous because they are incompetent or short-sighted.’
— J.B Priestley, Benighted (1922)
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