I've got this stunning newfound respect for George Bernard Shaw.
I was reading his Wikipedia entry this morning. He's half-Irish half-British (like me). He wrote unpublished novels (like me). He's won Oscars, Nobel prizes (I won Killer7, Yie Ar Kung-Fu, Lochside Poker 2004, Mercs, Realplayas2 Fantasy Football league 2005 and Streetfighter 2 Turbo on skill level 8 with Ken). He was a socialist in the Fabian society (I know someone who voted for the Natural Law party... it was the EGG). He has a beard (I have a goatee) He opposed WW1 (I went on strike for a day over discriminatory low pay, a situation which will soon be remidied... booyah). And his plays are 2nd to Shakespeare in English theatre (the bullshit that is produced in this blog is second to <fill in SG name here>'s on Suicidegirls).
But that's not the reason why I respect him.
At age 94 George Bernard Shaw died when he fell off a ladder.
George Bernard Shaw was climbing ladders at age 94.
That's freaking awesome. 94 for years of age and he's stilla scending the steps for whatever reason. And although he munged his last ladder climb the fact he was still game to ascend and descend up and down a ramshackle piece of equipment (safety standards in the 1950's were what they are now folks) is just immense. I mean 94. 94 years old and he dies falling off a ladder. Jings if I'm still able to climb laddders 20 years from now I'll be doing well. To be able to climb ladders at age 94 is way more inspiring than Heartbreak House, Saint Joan and The Apple Cart. I tell you something if I see a 94 year old banging on about his literary career or a 94 year-old racing up and down ladders my attention is on the dude with the ladder.
George Bernard Shaw, wahey.
Wonder why he was on that ladder? I bet he was trying to do the 1950's equivalent of fixiing the TV aerial to watch the Man Utd game like Rod Hull? That's where my money's going.
In more sane ramblings I'm off work. Knee went again. Shoulder hasn't healed. Sucks. Had I been smart I could have claimed that the real loose piece of carpet that almost sent me head-over-epidermus last night caused my knee injury. However that would have been lying and I'd rather sleep honestly dumb than crookedly smart.
Later on I shall have Coke Zero, a yogurt and watch Steven Seagal's Fire Down Below... again (a review of which you can read here). Until then I shall do not a lot because not a lot means a lot to me.
Actally bugger that, I'm off to win Bionic Commando. Pung!
I was reading his Wikipedia entry this morning. He's half-Irish half-British (like me). He wrote unpublished novels (like me). He's won Oscars, Nobel prizes (I won Killer7, Yie Ar Kung-Fu, Lochside Poker 2004, Mercs, Realplayas2 Fantasy Football league 2005 and Streetfighter 2 Turbo on skill level 8 with Ken). He was a socialist in the Fabian society (I know someone who voted for the Natural Law party... it was the EGG). He has a beard (I have a goatee) He opposed WW1 (I went on strike for a day over discriminatory low pay, a situation which will soon be remidied... booyah). And his plays are 2nd to Shakespeare in English theatre (the bullshit that is produced in this blog is second to <fill in SG name here>'s on Suicidegirls).
But that's not the reason why I respect him.
At age 94 George Bernard Shaw died when he fell off a ladder.
George Bernard Shaw was climbing ladders at age 94.
That's freaking awesome. 94 for years of age and he's stilla scending the steps for whatever reason. And although he munged his last ladder climb the fact he was still game to ascend and descend up and down a ramshackle piece of equipment (safety standards in the 1950's were what they are now folks) is just immense. I mean 94. 94 years old and he dies falling off a ladder. Jings if I'm still able to climb laddders 20 years from now I'll be doing well. To be able to climb ladders at age 94 is way more inspiring than Heartbreak House, Saint Joan and The Apple Cart. I tell you something if I see a 94 year old banging on about his literary career or a 94 year-old racing up and down ladders my attention is on the dude with the ladder.
George Bernard Shaw, wahey.
Wonder why he was on that ladder? I bet he was trying to do the 1950's equivalent of fixiing the TV aerial to watch the Man Utd game like Rod Hull? That's where my money's going.
In more sane ramblings I'm off work. Knee went again. Shoulder hasn't healed. Sucks. Had I been smart I could have claimed that the real loose piece of carpet that almost sent me head-over-epidermus last night caused my knee injury. However that would have been lying and I'd rather sleep honestly dumb than crookedly smart.
Later on I shall have Coke Zero, a yogurt and watch Steven Seagal's Fire Down Below... again (a review of which you can read here). Until then I shall do not a lot because not a lot means a lot to me.
Actally bugger that, I'm off to win Bionic Commando. Pung!
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
vrulovwrath:
Youve met very litle in number blind people compared to the deaf. How did Coca Colla blind that guy? 
lizzi:
Again, amazing entry! You are always entertaining. I guess I need to take a gander at that novel of yours? I'm sure it's non-stop entertainment!