Re: Any news from Kilmatead?
Posted: 2018 Jun 03, 13:49
since we've lost the forum mascot, I will try to impersonate the unimitable Kilmatead. Not that I know him in depth, I'll just emit a spontaneous verbal torrent in all ecumenical directions with a misanthropic twist, which may sooth your longing about our most likable lost soul 
enter the ghost of kilmatead
going from the particular to the general and formulating immutable laws has been the guiding light to human procession under the stars, but its applicability to detective work is not universal. Sadly your conjectures about my whereabouts are miles off the mark, culminating with the crowning fallacy of documentary evidence supplied just now by kunkel321 aka Mr skinner. I was momentarily tempted to let the story flow and lead the good people of this forum to believe that the ever so jolly gentleman in the picture was me myself and I, happy in the general predicament of life and sharing my paradise on earth with numerous dogs. But that would be a jest too far. I have nothing to do with the meritorious petty bourgeoisie, or landed gentry and their dogs. For years on end I was clearing up the Augean stables of one such a fallen aristocrat, trying to mend the crumbling fortifications of a castle way past its zenith. The land of castles and knights right outside a modern capital. But I digress. Even a saint would not submit to a life of serfdom for such a long extent. So I moved on. I shaved my head and followed the ancient tracks of Marco Polo in a quest of wisdom and meaning, and riddles (what is the sound of one hand clapping)? Don't look out for me. I understand the suspense is swelling inside your breasts. There comes a moment in each man's life, call it mid-life crisis or whatever (I turned 50), when jumping off to the silliest adventure seems to make a lot of sense, like hugging a cactus or waking up to the sound of wild yaks. The great wall that separates the Gogs from the Magogs, each pursuing their own dreams or sins, is calling all explorers, and I heeded the call. I swapped xplorer2 with a book of omens and never looked back. I ride my horse through the desert, and when my dried yoghurt paste is all but expired, I cut a vein off my trusty steed and drink its blood till the next watering hole. Only the enlightened can understand what drives a Mongolian. Your worries are unfounded and your regard would be welcome had I kept my prior mode of life. Seek me not, I beseech you. I hear that in these parts men can take a lot of wives and I will be able to compensate for my late start in multiplying my genome, because it would be a pity to leave such DNA in an evolutionary dead end. Everybody loves a verbose philosopher especially Mongolian womenfolk. When I reach 10 offspring or thereabouts, and the 7th moon has risen, I may appear again when everybody has lost all hope. I'd rather face the Turkish sabres at Sebastopol than trifle with your affections. In conclusion, there is no summary more eloquently composed other than the night cometh but another day must follow. I regret I caused poor Nikos' xplorer2 to relegate in a secondary role, everyone's affections directed to my person instead of great software, its nuances and tribulations. This forum is a platform for wishful thinking. No man is immutable to pestilence, Nikos the stubborn programmer included. So bombard him with requests and sooner or later he will cave in. Life is hard and then you die -- but not yet!
enter the ghost of kilmatead
going from the particular to the general and formulating immutable laws has been the guiding light to human procession under the stars, but its applicability to detective work is not universal. Sadly your conjectures about my whereabouts are miles off the mark, culminating with the crowning fallacy of documentary evidence supplied just now by kunkel321 aka Mr skinner. I was momentarily tempted to let the story flow and lead the good people of this forum to believe that the ever so jolly gentleman in the picture was me myself and I, happy in the general predicament of life and sharing my paradise on earth with numerous dogs. But that would be a jest too far. I have nothing to do with the meritorious petty bourgeoisie, or landed gentry and their dogs. For years on end I was clearing up the Augean stables of one such a fallen aristocrat, trying to mend the crumbling fortifications of a castle way past its zenith. The land of castles and knights right outside a modern capital. But I digress. Even a saint would not submit to a life of serfdom for such a long extent. So I moved on. I shaved my head and followed the ancient tracks of Marco Polo in a quest of wisdom and meaning, and riddles (what is the sound of one hand clapping)? Don't look out for me. I understand the suspense is swelling inside your breasts. There comes a moment in each man's life, call it mid-life crisis or whatever (I turned 50), when jumping off to the silliest adventure seems to make a lot of sense, like hugging a cactus or waking up to the sound of wild yaks. The great wall that separates the Gogs from the Magogs, each pursuing their own dreams or sins, is calling all explorers, and I heeded the call. I swapped xplorer2 with a book of omens and never looked back. I ride my horse through the desert, and when my dried yoghurt paste is all but expired, I cut a vein off my trusty steed and drink its blood till the next watering hole. Only the enlightened can understand what drives a Mongolian. Your worries are unfounded and your regard would be welcome had I kept my prior mode of life. Seek me not, I beseech you. I hear that in these parts men can take a lot of wives and I will be able to compensate for my late start in multiplying my genome, because it would be a pity to leave such DNA in an evolutionary dead end. Everybody loves a verbose philosopher especially Mongolian womenfolk. When I reach 10 offspring or thereabouts, and the 7th moon has risen, I may appear again when everybody has lost all hope. I'd rather face the Turkish sabres at Sebastopol than trifle with your affections. In conclusion, there is no summary more eloquently composed other than the night cometh but another day must follow. I regret I caused poor Nikos' xplorer2 to relegate in a secondary role, everyone's affections directed to my person instead of great software, its nuances and tribulations. This forum is a platform for wishful thinking. No man is immutable to pestilence, Nikos the stubborn programmer included. So bombard him with requests and sooner or later he will cave in. Life is hard and then you die -- but not yet!
Of course K has a history of being somewhat antagonistic over the years, even (especially?) towards Nikos. If they're the same person, that would make him quite a sadomasochist... Is it possible that the "2" in xplorer2 has referred to dualing egos all these years? 
This is a crazy world! 
