Thursday, 23 November 2017

A woman's Beauty



A Woman’s Beauty ©
By Michael Casey

A woman's beauty has many seasons too, the first smile that floors any man, the kind word that heals any hurt, the tears that break any heart.  The touch that offers sympathy,  the consoling hug. The softness that brings hope to all of us. Softness is strength. All kinds of graces that are like pearls throw before swine, swine being men in the main.

A woman loves from her  heart, a man tends to love from his loins until he is educated  by the love of a good woman. Women don’t battle and try to win all the time, tender words are given to children, and men are just children who pretend they are all grown up. Words and curses are used and it’s the women who are the peacemakers, when all the wars are over its women who are left to bring the family together.

Family is woman, the home the hearth is woman, men are out working and the mother glues the family together while the men are at work. Times changed but still its mum and the kids, they are the family, dad is out working up to 16hours a day, at least my dad was. When dad is off work for the weekend then the family is full and complete, laughter rings out and when the ice cream van is heard in the street dad sends us out to get some ice creams. TV shows are watched together, kids snuggle up to dad to rest their head on his fat belly, dad’s Winnie  The Pooh like belly.

As kids it’s the mother who teaches the children their first prayers, it’s the mother who spread the Faith, but why is it that only men are the priests? A mother encourages and soothes, a dad gives the pocket money out  at the weekend so you can go to the Grove Cinema. On a Sunday there is cake and tea, dad goes to the pub and comes home with cheese and onion crisps in his pockets. Warm memories, memories that make up Family, then one Saturday night in May , mum is gone. Mum is dead, the priest comes to the house in the early hours returning with brother and sister, dad cries it finally hits him, his wife of nearly 50years is gone. 

Dad said mom had all the Graces, “She was as strong as a horse” which is high praise coming from a blacksmith.



女性の美容©
マイケル・ケイシー
女性の美しさには多くの季節があります。最初の笑顔はどんな男性でも、傷つけられるヒント、心を壊す涙です。同情、抱き合う抱擁を提供するタッチ。私たち全員に希望をもたらす柔らかさ。柔らかさは強さです。真珠に似たあらゆる種類の恵みが豚の前に投げかけ、豚は主人の男性である。
女性は彼女の心を愛し、男は良い女性の愛によって教育されるまで、彼の腰から愛する傾向があります。女性はいつも戦いをして勝つつもりはなく、子供たちには柔らかい言葉が与えられ、男性は彼らがすべて育ったと思っているただの子供です。言葉と呪いが使用されています。すべての戦争が家族を一緒に連れて来る女性たちの上にいるとき、それは平和の仲間である女性です。
家族は女性、家は家の女性、男性は仕事を外しているし、男性は仕事中に家族を一緒にグルーミングしています。時間は変わりましたが、まだ母親と子供たち、彼らは家族、父親は一日16時間まで仕事をしています。少なくとも私のお父さんはいました。お父さんが週末のために仕事をしていないとき、家族は一杯になり、笑い声が鳴り出し、ストリートでアイスクリームのバンが聞こえたら、パパは私たちにいくつかのアイスクリームを贈ろうとします。テレビ番組は一緒に見られる、子供たちは彼の太った腹の上に頭を置くためにパパに抱きついている、お父さんの甘い腹のようなプーさん。
子供たちは子供たちに最初の祈りを教える母親ですが、それは信仰を広める母親ですが、なぜ男性だけが司祭なのですか?母親が励ましてくれると、お父さんは週末にお金を出してグローブシネマに行くことができます。日曜日にはケーキとお茶があり、パパに行くとパパにチーズとタマネギチップが入って家に帰ってきます。暖かい思い出、家族を構成する思い出、そして5月の土曜日の夜、お母さんはいなくなりました。ママは死んでいる、兄弟姉妹と戻って早期に家に司祭が来る、それは最終的に彼をヒットする父の叫び、ほぼ50年の彼の妻がなくなっている。お父さんによると、母親は「馬ほど強く、鍛冶屋からの高い評価を受けています。









Wednesday, 22 November 2017

just a quick word

well I did not write anything new today,  I was tying to secure all our family photo collection.
17 or so years worth.
I did lots of computer backups in my computer room days.
Google lets you upload unlimited amounts of photos so I've been using that.

the pain monster came out to play too.

but otherwise not a bad day.

If you are Polish I do hope you enjoy all the stuff further down the site.

I've left open the 298 stories on my other site, in English


https://michaelcaseyfrombirminghamengland.blogspot.co.uk

so there is plenty for you all to read

AND YES IT REMAINS MY COPYRIGHT SO IF YOU ARE MEDIA GET IN TOUCH AND PAY ME TO USE IT. I HAVE  RECORDED 200 PLUS STORIES ABOUT 11 HOURS WORTH PERFECT FOR RADIO... IN MY POSH BIRMINGHAM ENGLAND ACCENT.

Jokers are sending me emails for trials of arthritis drugs etc
I still have chest pains post quadruple heart bypass
but if you google so do lots of people
but I only take paracetamol because I don't want to destroy my brain nor my imagination
and I only take it when it really hurts. I also take pain killer gel Movelat

iF PAIN IS PRAYER then I am very holy, all prayers from all Faiths and none are appreciated.










Tuesday, 21 November 2017

One last piece before my bedtime

I was about to go to bed, I've been to the dentist today to have a root removed so I'm a bit off today, I stumbled over this piece so I'm sharing it. Don't forget all the Polish pieces further down the site. 

Starting Over 2017
By Michael Casey
This will be my 11th book Hope you like it
Someplace Else ©
By Michael Casey

Hello again, well I’ve had to decamp from the family PC to a laptop, as the mouse drivers on the family PC have ran away, our cat Totoro has no doubt scared them off. I plan to accost one of our neighbours to help me fix this problem, thank God I’m not your neighbour. I will of course pay £20 or 20 pints of Stella Artois as a reward.
I’m one click away from fixing this, only I cannot find the correct combination for a final fix. So close and  yet so far away, the  lock to the chastity  belt could not be opened. I throw in these occasional ripe metaphors to check if you are listening and have I made you prick up your ears, it’s all in the mind,  as Jill used to say, I lead you up the garden path. God bless Jill, she has her own cross to carry, she was a great lady from my computer days at Stats.
So as I sit here writing my first ever laptop piece, my 730 something  all together piece I’m thinking what would it be like to use a laptop all the time. In my imagination I’m at an airport writing between flights. If only we could go to Malta again, and be a writer on the go, which in my case normally means going to the toilet. Malta is great and you can even get Deep Heat there, which was a godsend back in 2013.
Someplace else also means a state of mind, your location does influence  what you write, as does the keyboard you use  I’m finding that out right now. I can see the gas fire in front of me, there 28 years ago I sat writing my first novel, The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, so by looking forward I am in fact looking back into my own History.
I met a new “friend” this week a Simon Pegg look alike security guard and his buddy a tattooed guy, it was as if he leant on a hedge and the image was transferred to his arms, very floral, he should be dancing with Terry Wogan. They were very nice guys they got me a taxi. I mention them because you don’t know when or where you’ll meet a kindred spirit.  I have done a few years of security as well as everything else when I was at CPNEC Birmingham so there is a camaraderie between security people, as well as many bunions,  but not John Bunion, he never has bad feet.
This room is too quiet, then the clock strikes 11.15, God always has the last word, well he started it with  the 1st Word, though Bill Gates may dispute that. See somebody else provided the material for the last sentence, am I just a puppet, they would have to be very strong to pull a 100kilo man’s strings, and  yes I’ve lied about my weight, I’m more than  that. After 15 months I’ve loosened my monastic diet so I’ve put back 5 of the 10 kilos I lost post op and diet change. Though I do look 20 kilo lighter than I am thanks to it being tight fat and not wobbly fat.
It feels like a desert island now, the clock strikes 11.30 God always interrupts when I’m trying to write, though He would say when I’m trying his patience. I was 2 hours away from Death, so I won’t complain if He plays with Time, who am I to argue if I paraphrase Francis, and did I tell you I guessed Francis would be the name of the Pope, if only I had a bet on it.
All in all Someplace Else Has not been too bad, though I need to sort out my sitting position, then I have to backup and secure my words, before posting them online, I started as a computer operator back in 1978 so in a way I’ve gone full circle. I just  hope I can make a few quid for my girls  before the Clock strikes End. 


Celebrating Polish Readers Today so I've loaded up a load of Polish Translations via Google Translate

Celebrating Polish Readers Today

   so I've loaded up a load of Polish Translations

via Google Translate

IF you look down the site I've put  your favorite stories online in the following posts.

I hope you all enjoy them

THEN MAYBE YOU'LL MENTION MY WRITING TO YOUR MEDIA AND MAYBE JUST MAYBE i MAY GET A FEW PENNIES FOR MY WRITING.

ALSO THANK YOU UKRAINE, YOU SEEM TO LIKE MY WRITING TOO, YOUR FIGURES ARE CATCHING UP POLAND'S

i'LL TIDY UP MY SITE IN A WEEK SO CATCH THE POLISH TRANSLATIONS WHILE  YOU CAN.




IF YOU WANT OTHER STUFF THEN SWITCH OVER TO MY

https://michaelcaseyfrombirminghamengland.blogspot.co.uk/ 

SITE FOR 200+ STORIES IN ENGLISH

WRITING STORIES IS ALL I'M GOOD FOR, YOU SHOULD SEND MY PHOTO TO YOUR FAMILY IN BIRMINGHAM THEY MAY SPOT ME AT THE LOCAL polish DELI, I'LL ACCEPT CHOCOLATE AND KISSES. i HAVE NEVER TRIED pOLISH LAGER YET.
























Monday, 20 November 2017

Weary of Words

Weary of Words ©
By Michael Casey

I don’t know about you but I find somethings boring, and what bores me the most is snap, no not the card game we played as kids, but verbal snap. You say the wrong word or misspoke as Americans call it, though LIE would be a much better word as far as some Politicians are concerned, then somebody slaps you down. It’s not clever and kills conversation. Yes the interviewer has to point out mistakes, or errors, especially with Politicians but the net result is you have a battle where none should exist. Just give the Politician enough rope and they will hang themselves. We are all watching Zimbabwe right now, so I’ll leave that there.
An interview is just that, the questioner should just ask questions, and allow the talker to talk. We had Michael Parkinson over here and all the Hollywood stars said he was the best. Why? Because he let them talk and  he did his research. 

Nowadays everybody wants to nitpick and try and prove just how much cleverer than the interviewee they are. I’m doing you a favour interviewing you, you are not worthy of me, I was on MTV talking rubbish for 3 years, I was an ex-bodybuilder who became a star of MTV, so why should I waste my time on you. What if you spent 9 months in space and did 10 space walks. That’s nothing compared to my sex life all over MTV, why am I bothering talking to you?

The interviewer wants to talk about himself, instead of the guest. The guest mis-speaks and the host is ever so eager to pick him up on it, and wastes 10 minutes on it. A simple do you want to correct yourself is enough, just let the speaker speak. Instead of boring us about when you were living in a housing estate for a week on benefits, but you sneaked out to a 5 star hotel once the cameras were switched off.  It’s supposed to be a chat show not a monologue about the Star’s sex life and size of his muscles, who only lets the guest actually speak for 2 mins out of the 10 min slot.

Sadly there are too many Personality interviewers who have no personality nor ability whatsoever. The viewers or the listeners want to hear what the guests say. Maybe it’s because I grew up with radio, 20 years of it, constantly hearing  quality programming 50 to 30 years ago, so I’ve been spoiled. A good host brings out the guests and coaxes their stories from them, they are the story NOT the interviewer. 

If you watch as much tv news as I do, and I still listen to radio as well, you’ll see the whole spread of ability. We have somebody called Alan Titchmarsh here in UK, originally he is a gardener, yes plants and stuff, but I’m also seen him interview people as well as his tv garden show. Now he is really good, why? Because he lets people talk and he is very gentle, he has patience, why ? Because he lets things grow. Let it grow, let it grow let it blossom let it grow as Eric Clapton sung on 461 Ocean Boulevard. Then like in love, Love Grows where my Rosemary Goes.  

If you like verbal snap then you’ll continue watching and listening to inane rubbish. Me, I’d like to hear the story, whatever the story is, be it about world record for farting, or the latest stink in Parliament. I want the facts and I want the interviewer to be like a breath of fresh air, clearing the air and the noise to give me facts straight between the eyes. Not just being a total bore, a boring old fart, or an even more boring young  fart who is also a body builder.


Words matter and they should be heard, perhaps the Speaker of the House of Commons should have a chat show, now HE really is excellent. You do know he has Mace at the end of his desk, little wonder they do what he says. I would love to hear him, and it would not be on RT either.  Tonight with John Bercow on Radio4 would be great, his catch phrase is Order, Order by the way. Perhaps it should be dinner with John Bercow, well that’s for the future, HE is not available for 5 more years. I am available it could be Michael Casey has a Subway sandwich with anybody who’ll pay for my meal.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC




Mummy Who's my Sperm Daddy?

Mummy Who’s My Sperm Daddy?©      

By Michael Casey    a piece from 2013 to keep you happy till I write a new piece later today

I just read in the Daily Telegraph about an idea for a celebrity sperm bank, so people can have the pick of the "best" sperm daddies. I thought it was an   April  Fool and then I realised it was October, so it cannot be true. Can it be true, can it be really   true.  I did think of the Nazis too.

I always say that beautiful parents have ugly kids, and ugly parents have kids the gods themselves would adore. My own kids are very pretty, in fact when we've been in Shanghai visiting grannie we even had people taking photos and videos of the kids as was went around Shanghai zoo, yes treating my girls as if they were animals in the zoo. Our Army Uncle as we call one of the relatives, he was a political officer in the Chinese Red Army, anyway when he was taking the girls out for a treat would stop all the attention by saying "get lost, they are from Tibet" or other such words. By the way he really is a very nice man, you'd respect and admire him instantly if you meet him.

But why this obsession with looks, or I want Einstein's baby, will men be attacked in the street so women can have the perfect baby.  A new form of mugging in the street. It a horrible thought.

God's lottery is the one and only lottery as far as I am concerned. I am blessed, or is it cursed with three beauties in my home. I often sing "If I was a rich man" from Fiddler On The Roof. Only I change the world and act "why was I cursed with 3 witches", we are near Halloween after all. Our girls have great Chinese eyes and hair you'd kill for, but then God's lottery gave them Western features. My eldest daughter looks exactly like I did at that age, obviously with more feminine features. The smaller daughter, 9 this week, looks like a classic beauty.

So this is how my kids have turned out, but I never call them pretty "ugly mug" is what I used more often than not. And they never have this obsession for mirrors. Now our USA uncle, his daughter married an American. They just had their 1st child so her parents wondered just how their granddaughter would turn out. Would they perhaps look like our kids? Their granddaughter looks totally Eastern, a pretty totally Eastern baby, no Western looks at all.

What does all this prove? God's lottery is the best and you never know how your kids will look, what combination. Somebody once joked " Michael she wants to breed with you." Why, not because I look  great but because my girls look nice, my wife is a beauty too. The fun is see in how the children look. He's got dad's face, she's got your nose, her smile is like grannies. All the things we notice when a child is born, and then when kids grow up all the changes, and all the similarities that appear.  The DNA  lottery.

But most of all what is the most important thing? It’s the love we give the child, it’s the Grimm's fairy tales we read to it, it’s how we build and form their mind, so that they have a spirit that will reach for the sky, that will visit you in the old people's home, and not abandon you because you are old. I met my own wife in the old people's home, she was cleaning my dad’s room, I  didn’t  abandon him, and see how I was rewarded.


Sunday, 19 November 2017

I'm no Dictator I'm the loved Leader

I’m No Dictator I’m the Loved Leader ©
By Michael Casey

We all have our styles when we work, and sometimes you are better as a worker that a leader. And more to the point you enjoy it more that way. I once met another Michael who used to be a leader but he said it was bad for him so he stepped back from it. When I was a team leader it was fun, but whether I was the leader or just the worker I always worked very hard.

But what about our “real leaders” such as Mugabe 93 or Kim 33. They lead us why? Because they saved us from oppression, then treated the country like their own private possession. I freed the country, I was in jail for years now I am the leader  because it is my right. Now I’m 93 my wife will become leader next says Mugabe as he clings to power tonight. Am I the only one who is not surprised? Brainwash our own people and blame ancient history almost. Hitler has the same moustache and he brainwashed his own people too, Mugabe shame on you.
As for Kim, it’s my granddad’s country it’s my dad’s country, so I’m keeping it. Like a spoilt child. A really beautiful place is wasted by a spoilt and arrogant leader. God alone knows will Trump nuke it all, or will China decide enough is enough. 

But Kim is the Leader with his marching bands and his drum majorettes carrying bayonets. Giant statues in a hall of the people stand proud like phallic symbols. While the real people cannot stand out of fear and out of lack of food. So pardon me for being rude but the best symbol to see is food in plenty in all the stores, not a people weighed down by dance steps showing how much they love their deity.
Mandela and Ghandi had a dignity they were proud, the flame of power did not corrupt them. Now we have a lady who earnt her Nobel Prize, now she tarnishes it because of her closed eyes. Or is it fear?  

In God’s Waiting Room and I don’t mean Florida, Hitler and Pol Pot and Stalin await their fate. They still demand drinks and food from the waiter that serves them before their fate is revealed to them. And still they show no remorse, they made their people proud at first some might say, but then the evil, the cancer, the power lust and conceit filed their veins. Only they were good enough, their words were worth more, were better than anything anybody had ever said. No wonder young Kim follows their example and  his people carry a notebook to write down every single utterance. When really a pooper scooper would be more realistic.
Saint Michael enters the room holding his nose, these are “generals” who have led their people with ignominy and shame. You are cursed for all time, and with that Saint Michael with his sword flicks them out of the waiting room through the door marked eternal fire and damnation.

It’s always the case that leaders want to stay forever, that’s why you have term limits. 8 years is enough. A leader should have a deputy ready to take over assuming they win an election. Not forever in government via musical chairs, it’s bad for the country, any country. Let the people speak, let the people dance, even dancing in the street. No  one party is forever in charge.

Sadly this prayer of mine will not always succeed, but I let the music of the people speak, I let them take over. North Korea should be as happy and as rich as the South, and why is it not? Because people are afraid and cowed into submission, everything has to have permission. Zimbabwe should be as rich as it once was, will free elections be announced once their own dear leader finally exits stage left. Or will a Crocodile take over forever? The test of a leader is to announce free elections and then try and win them.

Churchill had his painting and his writing when he was not a leader, the whole world would have been a better place if Hitler had just stuck to house painting. Sadly Hitler had his Ego. If only people could throw their Ego in the rubbish and know that true leadership really is service. Wasn’t their somebody who washed others feet, and loved a friend  so much that he wept and even rose Lazarus from the dead. Wasn’t their somebody who died for all of us, whereas Dictators think we should die for all of them.

I know what kind of leader I like, and when you are choosing a leader just think would they make a good Marie Curie nurse. Or do they think of themselves first. Any leader should be like my dad, family first, self last always.





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Portuguese Translations

Humour Writing by the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England read in 167 countries so far https://www.amazon.co.uk/Micha...