MikeLigalig.com

The boisterous Canadian, Mr. Blount, was lifting his loud voice in applause, and the astonished financier his (in some considerable deprecation), when a knock sounded at the double front doors. The priest opened them, and they showed again the front garden of evergreens, monkey-tree and all, now gathering gloom against a gorgeous violet sunset. The scene thus framed was so coloured and quaint, like a back scene in a play, that they forgot a moment the insignificant figure standing in the door. He was dusty-looking and in a frayed coat, evidently a common messenger. "Any of you gentlemen Mr. Blount?" he asked, and held forward a letter doubtfully. Mr. Blount started, and stopped in his shout of assent. Ripping up the envelope with evident astonishment he read it; his face clouded a little, and then cleared, and he turned to his brother-in-law and host.

"I'm sick at being such a nuisance, colonel," he said, with the cheery colonial conventions; "but would it upset you if an old acquaintance called on me here tonight on business? In point of fact it's Florian, that famous French acrobat and comic actor; I knew him years ago out West (he was a French-Canadian by birth), and he seems to have business for me, though I hardly guess what."

"A radical does not mean a man who lives on radishes," remarked Crook, with some impatience; "and a Conservative does not mean a man who preserves jam. Neither, I assure you, does a Socialist mean a man who desires a social evening with the chimney-sweep. A Socialist means a man who wants all the chimneys swept and all the chimney-sweeps paid for it."

"But who won't allow you," put in the priest in a low voice, "to own your own soot."

Crook looked at him with an eye of interest and even respect. "Does one want to own soot?" he asked.

"One might," answered Brown, with speculation in his eye. "I've heard that gardeners use it. And I once made six children happy at Christmas when the conjuror didn't come, entirely with sootâ€"applied externally."

"Oh, splendid," cried Ruby. "Oh, I wish you'd do it to this company."

"I'll put 'em back now, my dear," said Fischer, returning the case to the tails of his coat. "I had to be careful of 'em coming down. They're the three great African diamonds called 'The Flying Stars,' because they've been stolen so often. All the big criminals are on the track; but even the rough men about in the streets and hotels could hardly have kept their hands off them. I might have lost them on the road here. It was quite possible."

"Quite natural, I should say," growled the man in the red tie. "I shouldn't blame 'em if they had taken 'em. When they ask for bread, and you don't even give them a stone, I think they might take the stone for themselves."

"I won't have you talking like that," cried the girl, who was in a curious glow. "You've only talked like that since you became a horrid what's-his-name. You know what I mean. What do you call a man who wants to embrace the chimney-sweep?"

"A saint," said Father Brown.

"I think," said Sir Leopold, with a supercilious smile, "that Ruby means a Socialist."

In the large entrance hall of the house there was ample room even for Sir Leopold and the removal of his wraps. Porch and vestibule, indeed, were unduly large in proportion to the house, and formed, as it were, a big room with the front door at one end, and the bottom of the staircase at the other. In front of the large hall fire, over which hung the colonel's sword, the process was completed and the company, including the saturnine Crook, presented to Sir Leopold Fischer. That venerable financier, however, still seemed struggling with portions of his well-lined attire, and at length produced from a very interior tail-coat pocket, a black oval case which he radiantly explained to be his Christmas present for his god-daughter. With an unaffected vain-glory that had something disarming about it he held out the case before them all; it flew open at a touch and half-blinded them. It was just as if a crystal fountain had spurted in their eyes. In a nest of orange velvet lay like three eggs, three white and vivid diamonds that seemed to set the very air on fire all round them. Fischer stood beaming benevolently and drinking deep of the astonishment and ecstasy of the girl, the grim admiration and gruff thanks of the colonel, the wonder of the whole group.

Long before this revelation was complete the two big doors of the porch had opened in the middle, and Colonel Adams (father of the furry young lady) had come out himself to invite his eminent guest inside. He was a tall, sunburnt, and very silent man, who wore a red smoking-cap like a fez, making him look like one of the English Sirdars or Pashas in Egypt. With him was his brother-in-law, lately come from Canada, a big and rather boisterous young gentleman-farmer, with a yellow beard, by name James Blount. With him also was the more insignificant figure of the priest from the neighbouring Roman Church; for the colonel's late wife had been a Catholic, and the children, as is common in such cases, had been trained to follow her. Everything seemed undistinguished about the priest, even down to his name, which was Brown; yet the colonel had always found something companionable about him, and frequently asked him to such family gatherings.

John Crook, journalist, had heard of that eminent City magnate; and it was not his fault if the City magnate had not heard of him; for in certain articles in The Clarion or The New Age Sir Leopold had been dealt with austerely. But he said nothing and grimly watched the unloading of the motor-car, which was rather a long process. A large, neat chauffeur in green got out from the front, and a small, neat manservant in grey got out from the back, and between them they deposited Sir Leopold on the doorstep and began to unpack him, like some very carefully protected parcel. Rugs enough to stock a bazaar, furs of all the beasts of the forest, and scarves of all the colours of the rainbow were unwrapped one by one, till they revealed something resembling the human form; the form of a friendly, but foreign-looking old gentleman, with a grey goat-like beard and a beaming smile, who rubbed his big fur gloves together.

As they went together through the laurels towards the front garden a motor horn sounded thrice, coming nearer and nearer, and a car of splendid speed, great elegance, and a pale green colour swept up to the front doors like a bird and stood throbbing.

"Hullo, hullo!" said the young man with the red tie, "here's somebody born on the right side, anyhow. I didn't know, Miss Adams, that your Santa Claus was so modern as this."

"Oh, that's my godfather, Sir Leopold Fischer. He always comes on Boxing Day."

Then, after an innocent pause, which unconsciously betrayed some lack of enthusiasm, Ruby Adams added: "He is very kind."

"I think I was meant to be a burglar," he said placidly, "and I have no doubt I should have been if I hadn't happened to be born in that nice house next door. I can't see any harm in it, anyhow."

"How can you say such things!" she remonstrated.

"Well," said the young man, "if you're born on the wrong side of the wall, I can't see that it's wrong to climb over it."

"I never know what you will say or do next," she said.

"I don't often know myself," replied Mr. Crook; "but then I am on the right side of the wall now."

"And which is the right side of the wall?" asked the young lady, smiling.

"Whichever side you are on," said the young man named Crook.

The winter afternoon was reddening towards evening, and already a ruby light was rolled over the bloomless beds, filling them, as it were, with the ghosts of the dead roses. On one side of the house stood the stable, on the other an alley or cloister of laurels led to the larger garden behind. The young lady, having scattered bread for the birds (for the fourth or fifth time that day, because the dog ate it), passed unobtrusively down the lane of laurels and into a glimmering plantation of evergreens behind. Here she gave an exclamation of wonder, real or ritual, and looking up at the high garden wall above her, beheld it fantastically bestridden by a somewhat fantastic figure.

"Oh, don't jump, Mr. Crook," she called out in some alarm; "it's much too high."

The individual riding the party wall like an aerial horse was a tall, angular young man, with dark hair sticking up like a hair brush, intelligent and even distinguished lineaments, but a sallow and almost alien complexion. This showed the more plainly because he wore an aggressive red tie, the only part of his costume of which he seemed to take any care. Perhaps it was a symbol. He took no notice of the girl's alarmed adjuration, but leapt like a grasshopper to the ground beside her, where he might very well have broken his legs.

"Well, my last crime was a Christmas crime, a cheery, cosy, English middle-class crime; a crime of Charles Dickens. I did it in a good old middle-class house near Putney, a house with a crescent of carriage drive, a house with a stable by the side of it, a house with the name on the two outer gates, a house with a monkey tree. Enough, you know the species. I really think my imitation of Dickens's style was dexterous and literary. It seems almost a pity I repented the same evening."

Flambeau would then proceed to tell the story from the inside; and even from the inside it was odd. Seen from the outside it was perfectly incomprehensible, and it is from the outside that the stranger must study it. From this standpoint the drama may be said to have begun when the front doors of the house with the stable opened on the garden with the monkey tree, and a young girl came out with bread to feed the birds on the afternoon of Boxing Day. She had a pretty face, with brave brown eyes; but her figure was beyond conjecture, for she was so wrapped up in brown furs that it was hard to say which was hair and which was fur. But for the attractive face she might have been a small toddling bear.

"The most beautiful crime I ever committed," Flambeau would say in his highly moral old age, "was also, by a singular coincidence, my last. It was committed at Christmas. As an artist I had always attempted to provide crimes suitable to the special season or landscapes in which I found myself, choosing this or that terrace or garden for a catastrophe, as if for a statuary group. Thus squires should be swindled in long rooms panelled with oak; while Jews, on the other hand, should rather find themselves unexpectedly penniless among the lights and screens of the Cafe Riche. Thus, in England, if I wished to relieve a dean of his riches (which is not so easy as you might suppose), I wished to frame him, if I make myself clear, in the green lawns and grey towers of some cathedral town. Similarly, in France, when I had got money out of a rich and wicked peasant (which is almost impossible), it gratified me to get his indignant head relieved against a grey line of clipped poplars, and those solemn plains of Gaul over which broods the mighty spirit of Millet.

TB ginagmay, unya balik na pud sa dreamland si Botoy...

Bisan unsa pay pangangkon sa mga politiko sa rason sa pagsang-at sa mga kaso, reklamo ug akusasyon maisip gyud kining personal nilang interes maoy ilang giapas aron dauton ilang mga kaatbang.

Apan bisan pa man sa nagtipun-og nga mga kaso, pirme gihapong modaog kining mga gipang-pasanginlang kurakot, abusado, tapulan nga mga politiko.

Usa sa dako og papel ug matawag nga sad-an mao ang mga botanteng wala magpakabana sa ilang palibot ug anha lang moaktibo panahon sa eleksyon nga diin dunay ‘dawaton’ gikan sa mga kandidato, tarong man o kurakot.

Sa laktod nga pagkaestorya way pagkatagam ang mga botante ug way leksyon nga nakat-unan gikan niining mga kasoha.

Ni Edwin Ian Melecio (Banat) | Updated May 12, 2013 - 12:00am


Basta eleksyon, daghan nang manggawas nga mga baho o akusasyon batok sa mga kandidato. Mao gyud kini tingsiaw sa kaabtik sa mga politiko batok sa ilang mga kontra.

Sa yanong pagka-estorya mao kini ang gitawag kaniadto pa nga ‘linabayay og lapok.’

Ang makapahibulong lang kay anhi lang ni manggawas kun panahon na sa eleksyon. Nganong sa wala pa ang bugnong lugaynon menus man kaayo sa kaabtik kining mga tawo nga nagbantay sa lihok sa mga naa sa pangatungdanan?

Tataw kaayo nga dunay risgo sa paghimo niini sa habig sa mipasaka og mga kaso apan sa ngalan daw sa ‘ligdong’ ug matinud-anong panerbisyo publiko ilaha kining sakripisyo.

Pin Lady tells the truth. Balloon Man doesn't lie, exactly. How can the Quibbling Balloon be called a lie? Pin Lady is more straightforward. Balloon Man is less straightforward. Their stances are semiantireprophetical. They're falling down the hill together, two falls out of three. Pin him, Pin Lady. Expand, Balloon Man. When he created our butter-colored balloon, we felt better. A little better. The event that had happened to us went floating out into the world, was made useful to others. Balloon Man says, "I got here the Balloon of the Last Concert. It's not a bad balloon. Some people won't like it. Some people will like it. I got the Balloon of Too Terrible. Not every balloon can make you happy. Not every balloon can trigger glee. But I insist that these balloons have a right to be heard! Let that man in the black cloak step closer, he wants a balloon.

"The Balloon of Perhaps. My best balloon."

Balloon Man will produce the Balloon of Almost Wonderful. Pin Lady will come back with the Pin of They Didn't Like Me Much. Balloon Man will sneak in there with the Balloon of the Last Exit Before the Toll Is Taken. Pin Lady will reply with the Pin of One Never Knows for Sure. Balloon Man will propose the Balloon of Better Days. Pin Lady, the Pin of Whiter Wine.

It's gonna be bad, I don't want to think about it.

Pin Lady has the Pin of Tomorrow Night -- a wicked pin those who have seen it say. That great hug, when Balloon Man and Pin Lady roll down the hill together, will be frightening. The horses will run away in all directions Ordinary people will cover their heads with shopping bags. I don't want to think about it. You blow up all them balloons yourself, Balloon Man? Or did you have help? Pin Lady, how come you're so apricklededee? Was it something in your childhood?

Balloon Man will lead off with the Balloon of Grace Under Pressure, Do Not Pierce or Incinerate.

Pin Lady will counter with the Pin of Oh My, I Forgot.

One day the Balloon Man will meet the Pin Lady. It's in the cards, in the stars, in the entrails of sacred animals. Pin Lady is a woman with pins stuck in her couture, rows of pins and pins not in rows but placed irregularly here a pin there a pin, maybe eight thousand pins stuck in her couture or maybe ten thousand pins or twelve thousand pins. Pin Lady tells the truth. The embrace of Balloon Man and Pin Lady will be something to see. They'll roll down the hill together, someday. Balloon Man's arms will be wrapped around Pin Lady's pins and Pin Lady's embrangle will be wrapped around Balloon Man's balloons -- even the yellow balloons. They'll roll down the hill together. Pin Lady has the Pin of I Violently Desire. She has the Pin of Crossed Fingers Behind My Back, she has the Pin of Soft Talk, she has the Pin of No More and she is rumored to have the Pin of the Dazed Sachem's Last Request She's into puncture. When puncture becomes widely accepted and praised, it will be the women who will have the sole license to perform it, Pin Lady says.

The Balloon Man won't let you take his picture. He has something to hide. He's a superheavy Balloon Man, doesn't want the others to steal his moves. It's all in the gesture -- the precise, reunpremeditated right move.

Balloon Man sells the Balloon of Fatigue and the Balloon of Ora Pro Nobis and the Rune Balloon and the Balloon of the Last Thing to Do at Night; these are saffron-, cinnamon-, salt-, and celery-colored, respectively. He sells the Balloon of Not Yet and the Balloon of Sometimes. He works the circus, every circus. Some people don't go to the circus and so don't meet the Balloon Man and don't get to buy a balloon. That's sad. Near to most people in any given city at any given time won't be at the circus. That's unfortunate. They don't get to buy a brown, whole-life-long cherishable Sir Isaiah Berlin Balloon. "I don't sell the Balloon Jejune," the Balloon Man will say, "let them other people sell it, let them other people have all that wet and nasty kid-money mitosising in their sock. That a camera you got there mister? Get away." Balloon Man sells the Balloon of Those Things I Should Have Done I Did Not Do, a beige balloon. And the Balloon of the Ballade of the Crazy Junta, crimson of course. Balloon Man stands in a light rain near the popcorn pushing the Balloon of Wish I Was, the Balloon of Busoni Thinking, the Balloon of the Perforated Septum, the Balloon of Not Nice. Which one is my balloon, Balloon Man? Is it the Balloon of the Cartel of Noose Makers? Is it the Balloon of God Knows I Tried?

The Balloon Man won't sell to kids. Kids will come up to the Balloon Man and say, "Give us a blue balloon, Balloon Man," and the Balloon Man will say, "Get outa here kids, these balloons are adults-only." And the kids will say, "C'mon, Balloon Man, give us a red balloon and a green balloon and a white balloon, we got the money." "Don't want any kid-money," the Balloon Man will say, "kid-money is wet and nasty and makes your hands wet and nasty and then you wipe 'em on your pants and your pants get all wet and nasty and you sit down to eat and the chair gets all wet and nasty, let that man in the brown hat draw near, he wants a balloon." And the kids will say, "Oh please Balloon Man, we want five yellow balloons that never pop, we want to make us a smithereen." "Ain't gonna make no smithereen outa my fine yellow balloons," says the Balloon Man, "your red balloon will pop sooner and your green balloon will pop later but your yellow balloon will never pop no matter how you stomp on it or stick it and besides the Balloon Man don't sell to kids, it's against his principles."

At the last breakfast after I told her, we had steak and eggs. Bloody Marys. Three pieces of toast. She couldn't cry she tried. Balloon Man came. He photographed the event. He created the Balloon of the Last Breakfast After I Told Her -- a butter- colored balloon. "This is the kind of thing I do so well," he said. Balloon Man is not modest. No one has ever suggested that. "This balloon is going to be extra-famous and acceptable, a documentation of raw human riches, the plain canvas gravy of the thing. The Pin Lady will never be able to bust this balloon, never, not even if she hugs me for a hundred years." We were happy to have pleased him, to have contributed to his career.

Bentaha galing ang mga putoters nga sama nako ani...

Open a window to the sky,
Then stretch your wings and fly, fly, fly...

Samok bitaw ang hyphens...

Tinuod jud ni...

Aw, itlog man gihapon bisag binugok...

He he, strange bed-fellows...

Aprub!

He he, morag paingon kulitogon ang baba sa iro...

Where are you, newbies...

Basta politika, all issues included...

Meanwhile, the CNA said the Philippine Coast Guard has brought back a video of the incident, but it will not be published for now.

It quoted Philippine Coast Guard spokesman Lt. Cmdr. Armand Balilo as saying the footage will be submitted to the investigators.  â€" ELR, GMA News

Presidential Office spokeswoman Garfie Li said that if Manila can not give a positive response within 72 hours, the applications of Filipino laborers will be suspended.

Taiwan will also recall its representative to the Philippines and request that Philippine representative to Taiwan return to Manila, the CNA report said.

Last Thursday, Philippine forces fired at the Taiwanese boat "Kuang Ta Hsing No. 28" following an encounter at disputed waters off Extreme Northern Luzon.

A 65-year-old Taiwanese fisherman was shot dead in the incident, even as the Coast Guard said its initial reports indicated the boat tried to ram the Philippine vessel.

A report on Taiwan's Central News Agency said President Ma Ying-jeou gave the 72-hour ultimatum, warning of the consequences on Filipino laborers seeking work in Taiwan.

Ma convened a high-ranking meeting Saturday night, and decided on four demands from the Philippines, the report said. These included:

- issue a formal apology
- compensate the losses
- get to the bottom of the incident and punish the perpetrators of the killing
- open fishery agreement talks between the Philippines and Taiwan soonest.

May 12, 2013 5:47am



At dock is Taiwan fishing boat in encounter with PHL Coast Guard. Guang Ta Hsin 28 fishing vessel arrives at Liuqiu in Pingtung County, southern Taiwan May 11, 2013. A Philippines fisheries official said one of its vessels, acting under the threat of being rammed, opened fire on Thursday on Guang Ta Hsin 28 fishing vessel about 170 nautical miles southeast of Taiwan, killing one person on board. Reuters


Taiwan on Saturday threatened to freeze the applications of Filipino workers within three days - or 72 hours - if the Philippines does not respond to its requests stemming from the fatal shooting of a fisherman in disputed waters Thursday.

Mao nga sigi na lang tawon og hisgot bahin sa kaugalingon bisag siya ray gilamian...

Brayt jud diay ning bataa da!

Quote from: islander on May 11, 2013, 05:08:57 AM
himoa ning entry, bai hubs.  pilay pad, kun maoy makadaog, madawat unya kag free one-way ticket to mars.

Why not Jupiter--
With all its moons, it's perfect
For Ms. Islander.

Quote from: islander on May 11, 2013, 10:46:07 PM
assured gyod hinoon ko kay ubay-ubay man pod ang tigpangadye.

Ubay2x ang tigpangadye o ubay2x lang ang pangadye?

Quote from: islander on May 11, 2013, 10:45:25 PM
nakadugang gyod hinoon ug kulba-hinam.

Kaila diay kag unsay buot ipasabot og kulba-hinam, Ms. Isle? He he, bilib ko sa imong Cebuano instructor. Hmm, Ludabi?

Hunahunaa. Pila na kang baya ka tuig ang nahibilin, kana without accidents and with proper medication...

Wa kasabot...

http://thechive.com/

Quote from: Pikoy on May 11, 2013, 10:12:11 PM
na kay kuwanggol raba pud ko usahay bai paapil na noon ko ana sa dukol..

Pwede kaayo, modukol man pud gani ko sa kaugalingon. Pero kining duklononon ron makalingaw ug makapahimuot uyamot, klarong way dag-anan pero naning gihapon. Kini bitawng wa tay nahot nangita tag free entertainment...

Nirvanalisoan na...

Quote from: Pikoy on May 11, 2013, 10:00:48 PM

naa diay sul-anun? pero kanang mga ingun ana deli na angayang patulan..kay basig magka level nya mo,, jejeej..

He he, sori, Bay Piks, morag nasayo ra pud ang akong dog days, way lingaw kay way trabaho, lami mangdukol og mga kuwanggol...

Kaila mo ani nila?

Quote from: chicogon on May 11, 2013, 09:52:08 PM
Oo kinilaw nga tuna gehugasag suka pero mayonaisse ge sagol paghuman dili tonog lubi

Hmm, parehas diay sa pinakbet nga mayonnaise ang dressing...

Quote from: Pikoy on May 11, 2013, 09:51:15 PM
unya unsa may taytol sa ilang grupo.. ayorn man 3?

Huwat lang ta sa ilang milyonir supremo. Maayo man to mogama og taytol...

He he, May 25 pa man unta ang full moon, ngano kahang sayo man ni siyang nasul-an...