People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones – or so the saying goes. Geoffrey Higginbotham lived in a glass house.
It wasn’t one of those garden glass houses, you silly person. It was a real house but it had lots and lots of glass; big (in fact huge) glass panes in the doors and windows. The view out was spectacular. The view in was zilch. The windows were tinted and acted like mirrors.
It had one disadvantage: birds were forever attacking their own reflections in the glass. There would be a WHOMP and a dead bird would lie on the path beneath the window. This could happen several times a day.
Geoffrey tried to save as many birds as possible as often as he could by throwing stones and small rocks at them to scare them away. I know what you’re thinking: people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. Geoffrey never broke a window with a stone. Not the once. But there was getting to be quite a collection of rocks and stones on the path. One day, Geoffrey tripped on a rock, broke his ankle, and fell headfirst through a gigantic pane.
Which is the real reason why people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.
Who is this Bruiese person and what have you done with Bruce?
People shouldn’t live in glass houses.
More interestingly, should people in stone houses through glass?
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Everyone – except thyself – have exotic blog names – so I’m jazzing my image up every so temporarily.
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Ah Brieuse, trying to keep in with the cool bloggers.
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I’m just trying to keep ahead of everyone else!
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I think maybe one of those stones has hit you on the head Bruce, you were already the coolest blogger in town!
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Thanks Andrea. And it’s freezing here – almost feel like the first frost of the season! So cool indeed!
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Lesson learned.
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The moral of this story is…
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Sticks and stones will break your bones.
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It’s amazing how universal (and how useful) that saying is.
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Are you switching names because you plan to seek patrons of the arts for yourself? Sounds pretty highfalutin.
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A rose by any other name would smell as sweet – Romeo and Juliet
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But Longfellow would still have stinky feet.
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Wrong-fellow!
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Well, we can’t all be a song-fellow.
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I suppose having stinky feet would make Longfellow a Pongfellow.
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Funny, I always thought bit went “A rose by any other name would still have thorns.”
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That’s being a prick.
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Takes one to no one.
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I’d rather be in a foxhole with a prick than with a goody-two-shoes.
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Fair enough, but when did we start talking about foxes. (Sorry that I’m being so annoying. I’ve been hugging strangers and enjoying the wild street ravings and free flowing Wisconsin beer all day, it may have got to me a touch. #blameitonwisconsin)
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You’re not being annoying – I’m rather enjoying it. I wouldn’t mind drinking a stranger myself and hugging a beer – but how the hell do I find Wisconsin when I’ve had a few?
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Follow the beer truck. It’s gotta go back home sometime.
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I thought I was following the beer truck but it turned out it was a milk tanker. I ended up in some God-forsaken milking shed.
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Keep trying. You’ll get here someday.
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What a pain.
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A pain indeed! But a bird in the glass window is worth two in the bush.
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Not to disbelieve you, but I’m curious as to how the math works out on that one.
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My father was a plumber early in his life so he knew how to add up. I’ve got his genes.
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My doubts are draining away.
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Enough spouting!
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Lolz.
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Mr. Brieuse Bernhard Piers-Guðmund… you do such a remarkable job of creating stories…much better than that Bruce guy. Tell him to go back to his glass house and throw rocks.
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I shall certainly tell that Bruce guy to shove his rocks. He’s so pretentious. He walks around like he’s a nobleman, nose in the air and a carrot stuck up his bum.
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Don’t be too hard on him…he comes up with some good music. Hey at least that is something.
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Apparently he’s working on another piece for woodwind – don’t encourage him.
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You don’t want him to end up like Cornelius do you?
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Ha!
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Nice blog
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Thank you! Delighted that you visited!
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My pleasure, followed you ✨
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