That pure Cane Spirit since 1848.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007


I taint dead.

10 or so days ago, I had some coffee from Klatch.

That’s right! I drank from that bitter chalice.
Fool Maroon.
FOOL!

“…and, when the angel with his darker draught draws near, shrink not, but boldly grasp the cup …and drink your fill…”

So it goes.

In actual fact, it doesn’t.

It goes thusly. (depending on translations)

XLIII.

So when that Angel of the darker Drink
At last shall find you by the river-brink,
And, offering his Cup, invite your Soul
Forth to your Lips to quaff--you shall not shrink.


Anyways, the fabulous world of jet engines has its hold upon me, but you are all uppermost in my thoughts.

Apart from SafeTinspector and that other one.

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