Bitch on the Blog

April 11, 2018


Just came across one of those marvels, nay, marbles: “Your logic is right”.

Let’s leave aside that the person who this accolade was bestowed upon didn’t employ logic. They stated an opinion. A variety of which you can find on many a blogger’s armchair wisdom of how to deal with world affairs. Why some of them aren’t ashamed of both stating the obvious or think that their three short paragraphs amateur assessment of how best to handle the Syrian conflict (for example) holds water in a balloon easily punctured, I don’t know. Actually, I do know. It’s called inflation. Of what? Don’t ask. I have more needles than time to prick balloons.

Yes, so, “Your logic is right”, the innocent sycophant tells their blogging icon. My question, and it’s a genuine one, not least one for Looney: Can logic ever be wrong? Or isn’t logic, by its definition* and when employed correctly, always right?


*”logic – reasoning conducted or assessed according to strict principles of validity”. Up to and including “strict principles” my world was in order. “… of validity”? It’s a bit like a slippery and very lively eel wriggling its way to freedom and confounds all I think logic stands for.


April 24, 2017

And then some

To keep you from your more urgent tasks in hand here is another one of those questions on ethics which plague me. And if I have mentioned this before (not that you’ll remember)  please put it down to my willingness to repeat myself.

So there you are. At the fresh fish counter. It’s all glistening, enticing, a cook’s dream. However, enter the unfortunate shopper (that’s me) who is also well informed about decimating stocks of various species in the oceans. Great. Now what?

I am not proud of myself which is, most likely, why I seek your thoughts yet fact is, I think to myself: “That particular fish is already DEAD. Why should I let it go to waste?” Yes, I say to the fish monger, pointing to my bounty, that’ll be lovely. Thank you. Have I just proven the law of supply and demand? Sugar. Nevertheless, the fish was ALREADY dead. Someone has to eat it.

Of course, one could spin this idea to the less savoury. Think Moby Dick, indeed any prolonged adventure at sea when the Vasco da Gamas and Columbuses of this world set sail to discover new lands and spices. There you are at sea. Since you are all already on the brink of death why prolong the agony by not eating your past-his-live-by mate? And what if you were vegetarian or vegan at sea? Yet hungry? Would you toss your principles overboard to stay alive? Actually, come to think of it – and I am a connoisseur of seafaring factual and fictional accounts – why do those who do resort to eat their own always go for the weedy first instead of the meatiest? Such a waste.


PS Please do note that I posed TWO questions/dilemmas (for the price of one post). No need to keep it short. Just pour yourself on this page. I will gnaw on any bone you throw me.

August 20, 2015

Hot Air

Filed under: Integrity — bitchontheblog @ 11:18
Tags: , ,

To those of you who answered my last post: Thank you for rushing to comfort me in your own ways. I am touched. And hope to respond to your comments one by one. It’ll take time. This is not a subject to be taken lightly.

Alas my dilemma has resolved itself. Whilst, in theory, I was “perfect” for the job in question since I am judged a “people magnet”, the offer was withdrawn. Shrewd move by one of the HR (Human Resources) guys. I am NOT a poker player for nothing. My face/body language does give unambiguous signs at pleasure/displeasure, doubts, the whole gamut of emotions not easily tempered by rationale.

I have read your answers carefully and ponder on them. The consensus among you appears that “needs must”. True. But at what cost? Picking up on Looney’s point: Where do you draw the line between your conscience and survival?

Fact is you have to draw the line somewhere. By way of stark and exaggerated example: If I were put in position of pulling the lever to gas a chamber full of people they’d have to whip me to death and I still wouldn’t pull that lever. The only time I know I’d pull a trigger to kill someone on purpose is – admittedly – my son’s life being at stake. Might even use a knife. Though that is worst case scenario.

Ethics are difficult. And yes, I do understand those of you who mention “the pyramid of needs”. But at what cost? There are times you need to put yourself last.

Anyway, reading backward, I think I have missed my true vocation. Namely that of a martyr. Joke.


April 8, 2011

Pickled today, jammed tomorrow

Filed under: Happiness,Human condition — bitchontheblog @ 15:03
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

In the wake of the ever searching questions of Jean and Ramana, recently respectively about optimism/regrets/risks, I will ask you and please don’t cry:

You are just about to bite into your lovingly buttered piece of toast when you lose grip: What do you expect? Think about it: What do you expect in your heart of hearts at that nano second when gravity once more gets the better of you?

Being superior to virtually anyone I know: I do NOT expect anything since chance 50 50 whether it’ll fall onto its face or not. If inedible afterwards I just shrug my shoulders; if landing buttered side UP (unlikely) I am pleasantly surprised. One moment that piece of toast was just nourishment the next it becomes today’s luck indicator. Of course, there are people like my son: He will not touch anything once it’s fallen onto the ground, whichever side, since in his considered opinion it’ll be contaminated one way or another. Which is true. In moments like that I refrain from reminding him of people who have to rummage through others’ garbage to keep themselves alive. He’d probably rather die.

Which way to take my strand of thought: Principles? Pickiness? Regret? Let’s stick with risk and keep it simple:  As in Tunesian tummy. That’s when you go to a restaurant and like a fool, yours truly, order Steak Tartare.  In a hot Southern Mediterranean country ca 1983. FOS warned me. We went on to casino after the meal. I had heady winning streak – Beginner’s luck. Then I started feeling dizzy. Very. Never count your Casino chips before your stomach is half way through digesting your last meal. I got acquainted with our hotel room’s toilet for more than 8 hours. We bonded – both ways, mainly up. I was delirious. Luckily the hotel was starry, so not as disgusting an experience as your average ca 1978’s cheap students’ place in Piraeus harbour (that’s Athens, Greece) before setting off across the Aegean Sea. Odysseus had worse problems. Mine was that on the ferry I bumped into a guy with even bluer eyes than my boyfriend’s. We gazed at each other (my eyes are brown) and left it at that. No regrets there – I might have got myself with son who eats EVERYTHING off floor.

This post shows you: One moment you contemplate the world, next you do a spot of navel gazing.

Hugs and kisses from, as styled by Con, the loose cannon,


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