Memorial

On the evening they remembered Michael Jackson in a cavernous basketball arena in L.A., it's time for another memorial service. A few years have passed since I discovered blogging. During that journey from there to here, I have made many fascinating contacts and linked with many interesting people. It has been a quite delightful adjunct to my life and long may the singing continue.

However, nothing stays the same. Bloggers come and bloggers go. Some blogs suddenly grind to a halt and you are left wondering what the hell happened. Did they pass away? Were they imprisoned? Were they tied up in straitjackets and bundled off to asylums?

In my sidebar you will find my "Planet Blog" where I have pasted in links to blogs that I have enjoyed but three of them seem well and truly defunct with no activity for many months. It's time to take their coffins out to the ocean and drop them with floating wreaths. Time to scatter their ashes over the cyberworld. Time to let their charred remains float down the Ganges.

Stevie Wonder plays at Jacko's memorial service.

Who are they? There's "Friday's Web" composed by Amy in the North Carolina backwoods. That was always one of the first blogs I went to after logging on and I almost felt as if I knew the life she was leading - the trials and tribulations of being a parent, growing older and the never -ending quest for money to oil life's wheels. The tattoos, the animals, the bills, the yard, the husband the NASCAR races. Farewell Amy! May you rest in peace.

Secondly, there's "Shooting Parrots" in the suburbs of Manchester - a mere forty miles from here. There were jokes, interesting facts, political sideswipes, a simple passion for life and of course family responsibilities and work. It was a good blog while it lasted and I enjoyed the banter with Mr Rhodes but now that particular Norwegian Blue is a dead parrot! Deceased! Kapput! No more!

Finally, there's the bizarre "Brad the Gorilla" from Seattle. This guy was brilliant at maintaining his gorilla alter ego. There was sharpness, wit and a rather anarchic way of looking at the world that often made me chortle as I sat at this computer with my can of "Red Stripe" Jamaican lager or my mug of Yorkshire tea. I guess that Brad just got bored and moved back to the jungles of central Africa where mating with females of the species is far more straightforward than it would have been in the Pacific Northwest where you're expected to wine and dine and make interesting smalltalk first. Silverback gorillas aren't really into all of that.

To paraphrase lines from The Staples Center - "Brad, Amy, Mr Rhodes I was glad that I was alive in your era and though we wanted to feel your love go on for longer, God needed you in another place. You were so giving. You were very special people. Love y'all! Boo hoo!"