The Sock and Mr Jesus

Another Friday another Lunch Hour Concert. We were expecting a cello and a piano. But the program notes said 'Organ'. Oh yes, a change of program.

The organ music began, the ceiling cracked. It may have been cracked already. You notice things when you are looking up. The organ is high.

Usually that is all there is to do. Look up. But there was a double screen set up on the stage so you could see the organist's shoes on the left and his hands on the right. So I soon forgot the cracks in the ceiling.

The organ music was having even more alarming effects on the audience between me and the screens.

For instance. A man two rows in front developed a hole in the top of his head. It may have been there already. But you notice these things with an organ.

Another man four rows in front performed a peculiar wrinkling shiver from his neck to his crown, through his sparse hair.

A psychology professor looked twenty years younger as his neck became smooth. It may have been like that already. You notice things under an organ.

No one thought the organ music was funny. Except me. Diddle diddle diddly diddly dee....paaarp!
Diddle diddle diddly diddly dee...paaarp! Diddle diddle diddly diddly dee...paaarp!

Don't tell me that's not funny.

One of the pieces James Tibbles played was Herr Jesus hat ein Gartchen. It had five variations, all the same. The notes said the title meant King Jesus hath a Garden. But I beg to differ. That is Mr Jesus hath a Garden.

Two things happened at the end. One, James Tibbles came down the stairs and took a bow.
So we could see him.

Two, I asked my mum how it had been and she said not very good I don't like organ music. Did you have your hearing aids in? I asked and she said No, that would have been a hundred times worse.

Three, as I was getting up out of my seat, I saw that the person in front had left a brightly striped sock on the floor.

One too many things.

The Cloacal Kiss

But curiosity brought me back.

Alright Pliny, tell me, what is a cloacal kiss?

Many birds, said Pliny, mate by means of a brief touching of their cloacae, during which sperm is transferred from the male to the female.

And where are these cloacae? I asked cautiously.

Where you would expect them to be, answered Pliny. At the end of the bird.

What do you mean, at the end of the bird?

Under their tail, at the back, said Pliny. The cloaca is a multi function organ used for excretion of urine and faeces as well as for reproduction.

No wonder they do it briefly, I said. But wait a minute, what position do they do it in?

The male bird mounts the female from behind, said Pliny. Or so I believe.

In that case, I said, the female wouldn't see his stripes or his bars. So why does he have them?

No doubt she assesses them well before it comes to this, said Pliny patiently.

What deserves to be written

Pliny went to a Lunch Hour Concert yesterday. It was an organ recital. She expected to be looking at the organ, listening to the music, idly counting the pipes. But there were 2 screens on the stage, showing the hands and feet of the organist. Pliny was entranced by the dancing feet of the organist, in their shiny black shoes. They hardly seemed to touch the pedals, and yet they produced the heaviest notes.