Knowledge of Porridge (Robert Southey’s (Pre-Goldilocks) “Story of the Three Bears”)

To see this in full, at my website, please click : [HERE]. Thank you.

This is the fourth (and final) “film” that I made using Macromedia’s 2002-build of
“Flash MX” (with the animated text created in and imported from “SWiSHMax“).

Scroll
DOWN,
DOWN,
DOWN,
and (do) bear with me, to read/hear
Robert Southey‘s 19th century text.
It IS here !! (er….or there !).

Clicking this [GROOVY GREEN TITLE SCREEN] should (delightfully ?)
transport you to my 3.29MB <loopy ‘n’ loopin‘> original, full (“fun”)-sized
800×600 pixel adaptation :

Knowledge of Porridge - Link to 800x600 Looping Flash

The external Flash variant plays perpetually with none of the handy
controls (pause, stop, rewind, fast forward, ***MUTE*** !) that grace the
“small but perfectly formed” (currently) best quality avi-conversion hosted
at and streaming from the life-(changing server/)preservers at YouTube —>

This multi-scene presentation (my three earlier Flash Greetings are
single-scene projects, that became monstrously unwieldy, particularly
in the case of “Day Of(f) Wra(i)th“) marries nineteenth century Poet
Laureate Robert Southey‘s pre-Goldilocks telling of “The Story of the
Three Bears” to a melody from “Fiddler on the Roof“.

I think the lyrics took a couple of stabs (certainly sounds like it) and a
similar number of hours to prepare whilst the [ANIMATION] (NOT my
thang – I want to <<WRITE rhymes>>  to other people’s music
and only got into  <<caterwauling and colourings>> to try to convey
chronologies, illustrating TIMINGS in ways that FLAT words, plainly
presented on a page, mayn’t be relied upon to clearly carry over)
was a staggering five MONTHs (!!!)  in the making. I think I
s—–t—–r—–e—–t—–c—–h—–e—–d
the static-image-manipulating-by-a-wilful-incompetent possibilities
to the nth and, although there’s much in the result that I DON’T like
(I shudder at how BAD the stormy-stairs scene is), I’m happy with
the magnifying glass and the squirty blood droplets.

Here are some “FLAT words” being governed by a Frames Per
Second Spreadsheet calculating the line breaks and scene swaps
that would work best with the SWiSHMax-generated sub-titles :

KOP Animation Timings Screenshots 001

I am designing (f’nar how high falutin’ does that sound ? What a pompous prig !)
this WordPress blog using a Lenovo ThinkPad with a screen resolution of
1440×900 pixels and a Template by a <‘fessional Templater> by name of
“Andreas”. The result looks O.K. at MY chosen dimensions but is somewhat
compromised when seen smaller as the up-themselves text-only
boundaries over-step the mark and crush the centre-stage graphics.

I’d rather THEY shrank than graphics were clipped.

If you are viewing this at 1024×768 (57% of you will be)
or 800×600 (the second largest group)…it seems…

…you either have to strain your eyes or crane your neck or both.

KOP Animation Timings Screenshots 002

Are you still here ? Good Lord ! ……Good for you ; and thank you.

Palming Off Ste(a)rn Bears

Knowledge of Porridge

Picture a sylvan scene
Deceptively serene
Each plant painted pristine
With brambles in between

Their thorny spines incline
The dreamer to divine
That spells entral these dells
So watch where you recline

Nature’s barbed wire
Dampens the desire
To express a trespass
But it can’t prevent

People from peeping
Covetously creeping
Nimbly when the chance is sent

A wicked old woman
Was wand’ring in the woods
And wond’ring to herself
Where she might pilfer goods

With minimal effort
This criminal sort sought
A latch left off the catch
Security at nought

The house was vacant
But its contents fragrant
So the impish vagrant
Very flagrantly

Got the hot pots
Of breakfast that were cooling
Drooling over portions scant

Her great discomfiture
Was that the temp’rature
Of ev’ry serving was
Unnerving to endure
And as she cursed and swore
Her chosen seating tore
So she retired to bed
Since thieving’s such a chore

Meanwhile, returning,
Traipsed a hungry trio
Didn’t want to be so
Peckish past this point

They gave the heave-ho
To the short reprieve
Awarded to their joyful joint

And found that their cottage
Had suffered a rampage
Victims of a pillage
Tailored to enrage

Who might they engage
To answer for an outrage
Hooligans could not upstage ?

Well, inspection is the seed
Of detection it is said
And inflection, if shrill,
May inflict shreds of dread

Witness three bears
A-skipping up the stairs
They’ll soon forget their cares
Their target mumble prayers

To try to silence violence
In the sneaking, shrieking
Squeaking, speaking of

A Little Small Wee Bear
Who’s sad to find his chair
Is now well past repair

Share knowledge
of por
ridge

———————————————————————————-

The Story of the Three Bears
by
Robert Southey
((Glorious 12th August 1774 – 21st March 1843)

———————————————————————————–

Read here by me and posted to my AuralAurora Channel.

ONCE upon a time there were three Bears, who lived together in a house of their own in a wood. One of them was a Little, Small, Wee Bear; and one was a Middle-sized Bear, and the other was a Great, Huge Bear. They had each a pot for their porridge, a little pot for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized pot for the Middle Bear; and a great pot for the Great, Huge Bear. And they had each a chair to sit in: a little chair for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized chair for the Middle Bear; and a great chair forthe Great, Huge Bear. And they had each a bed to sleep in: a little bed for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized bed for the Middle Bear; and a great bed for the Great, Huge Bear.

One day, after they had made the porridge for their breakfast and poured it into their porridge pots, they walked out into the wood while the porridge was cooling, that they might not burn their mouths by beginning too soon to eat it. And while they were walking a little old woman came to the house. She could not have been a good, honest, old woman; for, first, she looked in at the window, and then she peeped in at the keyhole, and, seeing nobody in the house, she lifted the latch. The door was not fastened, because the bears were good bears, who did nobody any harm, and never suspected that anybody would harm them. So the little old woman opened the door and went in; and well pleased she was when she saw the porridge on the table. If she had been a good little old woman she would have waited till the bears came home, and then, perhaps, they would have asked her to breakfast, for they were good bears – a little rough or so, as the manner of bears is, but for all that very good-natured and hospitable. But she was an impudent, bad old woman, and set about helping herself.

So first she tasted the porridge of the Great Huge Bear, and that was too hot for her; and she said a bad word about that. And then she tasted the porridge of the Middle Bear, and that was too cold for her; and she said a bad word about that, too. And then she went to the porridge of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and tasted that, and that was neither too hot nor too cold, but just right; and she liked it so well that she ate it all up; but the naughty old woman said a bad word about the little porridge pot, because it did not hold enough for her.

Then the little old woman sat down in the chair of the Great, Huge Bear, and that was too hard for her. And then she sat down in the chair of the Middle Bear, and that was too soft for her. And then she sat down in the chair of the Little Small, Wee Bear, and that was neither too hard nor too soft, but just right. So she seated herself in it, and there she sat till the bottom of the chair came out, and down came she, plump upon the ground. And the naughty old woman said wicked words about that, too.

Then the little old woman went upstairs into the bedchamber in which the three Bears slept. And first she lay down upon the bed of the Great, Huge Bear, but that was too high at the head for her. And next she lay down upon the bed of the Middle Bear, and that was too high at the foot for her. And then she lay down upon the bed of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and that was neither too high at the head nor at the foot, but just right. So she covered herself up comfortably, and lay there till she fell asleep. By this time the three Bears thought their porridge would be cool enough, so they came home to breakfast. Now the little old woman had left the spoon of the Great, Huge Bear standing in his porridge.

“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!”

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great gruff voice. And when the Middle Bear looked at his, he saw that the spoon was standing in it, too. They were wooden spoons; if they had been silver ones the naughty old woman would have put them in her pocket.

“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!”

said the middle Bear, in his middle voice.

Then the Little, Small, Wee Bear looked at his, and there was the spoon in the porridge pot, but the porridge was all gone.

“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE, AND HAS EATEN IT ALL UP!”

said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

Upon this the three Bears, seeing that some one had entered their house and eaten up the Little, Small, Wee Bear’s breakfast, began to look about them. Now the little old woman had not put the hard cushion straight when she rose from the chair of the Great, Huge Bear.

“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!”

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.

And the little old woman had squatted down the soft cushion of the Middle Bear.

“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!”

said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.

And you know what the little old woman had done to the third chair.

“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR, AND HAS SAT THE BOTTOM OUT OF IT!”

said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

Then the three bears thought it necessary that they should make further search; so they went upstairs into their bedchamber. Now the little old woman had pulled the pillow of the Great, Huge Bear out of its place.

“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!”

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.

And the little old woman had pulled the bolster of the Middle Bear out of its place.

“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!”

said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.

And when the Little, Small, Wee Bear came to look at his bed, there was the bolster in its place, and upon the pillow was the little old woman’s ugly, dirty head-which was not in its place, for she had no business there.

“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED-AND HERE SHE IS!”

said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

The little old woman had heard in her sleep the great, rough, gruff voice of the Great, Huge Bear, but she was so fast asleep that it was no more to her than the moaning of wind or the rumbling of thunder. And she had heard the middle voice of the Middle Bear, but it was only as if she had heard some one speaking in a dream. But when she heard the little, small, wee voice of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, it was so sharp and so shrill that it awakened her at once. Up she started, and when she saw the three bears on one side of the bed she tumbled herself out at the other and ran to the window. Now the window was open, because the Bears, like good, tidy bears as they were, always opened their bedchamber window when they got up in the morning. Out the little old woman jumped, and whether she broke her neck in the fall or ran into the wood and was lost there, or found her way out of the wood and was taken up by the constable and sent to the House of Correction for a vagrant as she was, I cannot tell. But the three Bears never saw anything more of her.

———————————————————————————————-

~ FINDING MY BEARINGS ~

More “pick-the-locks” than GOLDILOCKS, the 19th Century Poet Laureate’s
version of “THE STORY OF THE THREE BEARS” solicits small sympathy for
its lairy, sweary, opportunistic octagenarian breaker and enterer…

Knowledge of Porridge Title Screen

<Cappin’ it all> as more <Cap‘in Oats> than <Cap‘in Oates>, this “capital
fellow”, (clearly NOT <cap in ‘and> OR <‘andicapped>, given that in
Flash MX he’s taken to flashing (stolen ?) <bling as his “thing“>) is
*”dandy–capped”* in a hat that’s “all that“ ;  he  feels no guilt about the
gilt of  locks busted to gain Gold(y) lockets….if not (yet) Goldilocks.

With neither baubles nor “Bubbles” for Chumps OR Chimps, Southey’s
“C”‘s NOT the South(y) Seas but, instead, at head, the initial of the windy
city, a sign of support for the Chicago Bears.

In Awe of the Forest Floor and the Forest's Flaw

Our first view is of the leafy forest floor, its flaw is that the colours, if
not evergreen, are MOSTLY green…..moistly green…too green, really,
to be beneath our feet…

Bear-Foot in the Park without George or a Big-Foot (Yet...eee !)

…and soft enough to cushion bare feet or – indeed – bear feet as we
pause to observe that these imprints aren’t the (On Your) marks of
human sprints ; No no. THESE paws bear CLAWS – a name for “Nails”…

Picture a Sylvan Scene

…and “nails” would, doubtlessly, be required to afix to a wall, the
woodland “Picture“, once framed, and labelled, as above.

Mist cleared, the “Sylvan Scene” is seen….sylvanly ; from the FRONT.

Deceptively serene

I don’t know if it is the “Western Front” or the “Eastern Front” but a dove
bearing (and perhaps as good at not losing its bearings as its carrier
pigeon cousin) an olive branch indicates : “war is over”…

…(or war is more <over-seas> than <over-seen>, like Overlord,
“I wish it were over,” Lord).

May 24, 1942 Screenshot of Atari 8-Bit Strategy Game : "Eastern Front". "Total War" without the BSOD.

“Game Over”

A fine weather screenshot,  much of the conflict takes place in
icy conditions, (nabbed from the ever-informative Wikipedia)
of the 1980s Atari 8-bit “Eastern Front”. This proggie was a
toughie and pre-dated the “Total War” franchise by years…

…it also loaded and ran – its soldiers falling victim to the atrocious
attrition and <blue LIMBS of death> caused by the cold rather
than the dismal <BLUE SCREENS OF DEATH> that are all
March 2009’s “Empire : Total War” has delivered to my PC.

Each plant painted pristine

In a May where one needn’t dismay (and the graphics display), “Each
plant painted pristine,” is a far-more-welcome Bluebell…

Their thorny spines incline

…er…unless it is a brambell – er, I mean a “bramble“…and scramble to…

So watch where you recline

…ramble on and insist that you look at this roller’s wrist for the “watch”
(it’s a roller’s not a Rolex) in “So watch where you recline !“

To express a trespass

With sponges and spongers at large, that Rolex had
better be water-proof AND insured against deft theft.

The bramble, with a hole in its leaf looking like the eye of a
pecking bird, is a vicious version of the “dove from above” ;
a sort of courageous (non-oxymoronic) chicken…

People from creeping

This back-packer’s hand gesture is therefore not a rabbit (or a satanic)
shadow puppet shape – but a secret sign, divine – that of the Zen Hen.

A wicked old woman

From amongst the blooming bluebells emerges a grand dame, so
senior she may have been (laid) in the “Bluebell” line-up or laid the
Bluebell Line. Blue-rinsed(hence the hair-hiding headscarf), now
she’s more likely to end up in a “line-up” – not least for the crimes of
her un- re ad, blue lines.

With minimal effort

<Can’t see the trees for the wood>…and who say’s
this woman’s offence is to be a “fence” ?

This criminal sort sought

Not waving OR drowning, “This criminal sort” seems somewhat short
of being a “sort” and not as thick as two (or even seven (odd)) short planks.

A latch left off the catch

Look ! There’s a LOCK ! There’s WOOD ! There’s a “Wicked Old Woman“.
If she was “The Wicked Lady” she’d be Margaret Lockwood !!

The house was vacant

…but if she only had to look(-) in and <sniff the whiff>…

But its contents fragrant

…to identify the ((non-sauce) source (of))) the cookin’ smell, she’d
be Marguerite (not General) Patten. A “Grr !” Girl in the Guerre.

Of breakfast that were cooling

Despite the seeming “evidence” in the precedence of this platter-spattered
beau table-top tableau, <General Patton> did not issue a <general patent>
for the production of  Purple Heart–patterned breakfast bowls fashioned
from up-turned military millinery (- that’s “heroes’ helmets” to you !).

Spoons as Notes

This <“little liar“> makes a <little “lyre“> out of “Little, Small, Wee Bear”‘s
“Little, Small, Wee…” chair – YEAH. She strikes the slats of the seat, like
strings, and flung, unstrung (if not unsung), from the pile of purple pots,
the fire-coloured cutlery spins as spoons then turns to tunes, magically,
musically,  Terpsichoreanly disposed to be transposed and transformed.

Notes as "d"s

The porridge-pilfering pugilist packs a punch, (if not her lunch) and,
(semi)-crotchetily, thumps the stumps of former spoons (“)to tease
(and a coffee, please)(“)  from dese “d“s that could be “d“s…

Notes as "b"s (if nor B.S.)

…three “b”s…

Her great discomfiture

…as “freebies” from “free” bears.

Was that the temp'rature

If General Patton had a baton it would be this thermometer conveyin’
‘n’ conductin’ (before being <sucked in>) the tempo and the
“temp‘rature. Sometimes the “hottest“/”coolest” music’s…

Of ev'ry serving was

…made from the bluest notes…

Unnerving to endure

…and may be a little, small, wee bit  hard to swallow, unless you are
as hardened as our favourite <fork>ed-tongued <spoon>-spinner
criminally crunching her way to a mouthful of Mercury. (Any one
who cracks a crass joke about the lead singer of “Queen“, at this
juncture, risks being sent to “see a senior member of staff,”.

~ A FATE WORSE THAN COVENS OR COVENTRY ~

NB

Freddie Mercury was NOT in (or banned from) the band “Poison“.).

And as she cursed and swore

A lip-reader might, in truth, be a tooth-reader. Lippily, Madam bites
………her bottom….lip with muchos Ffffffffforce and Fffffffffortitude,
gracious, vivacious and “effin'” efficacious wiv <The F-Word>.

And as she cursed and swore 2

From profanity (pro-fanny tea ?) to inanity. Having stuck her neck out
breaking into the three bears’ tree-house cabin, the “wicked old woman”
now sticks her tongue out – a wordless insult/form of rejection theorised
to have its origins in babies repulsing the breast once satiated.

Peckish past this point

Hoping, themselves,  to be satiated soon, the ursine pass a sign.

Hunger as “Peckish“ness MANifests itself as the face of Gregory Peck
carved on the club (not the cub) of the Great, Huge Gregory
Peck-Faced Club-Carrying “Great, Huge Bear“.

Awarded to their joyful joint

“Awarded to their joyful joint“.  This is not a re(e)ference
to pot, although the bears ARE heading home for “pots“…

Had suffered a rampage

…and a SHOCK !!!!

The shock of an aftershock and a house
that has taken a trip even if they haven‘…

…and is it a heavenly haven any more ?

Hooligans could not upstage

Paws pause to get to grips (that’s 2 grips) (not Super Poligrip(s)) with trips.

Of detection it is said

This is my favourite sequence from “Knowledge of Porridge”, a pine cone
is revealed and magnified as : “Inspection is the seed Of detection,“…

A-climbing up the stairs

…and this is the nadir, it’s bad ‘ere, ya hear, m’dear ?!

To try to silence

Will this harridan harass and make it “curtains” (for certain) for the
(“Great, Huge”) hairy hollerer – or will ‘e
follow ‘er,
collar ‘er ‘
‘n’
swallow ‘er ?

To try to silence 2

“Er” indeed….and <‘er indoor>s….an’ ‘im indoors ‘n’ all ;
with jaws ‘n’ claws ‘n’ cause to maul.

SHE raises a “finger of complaint” to point out abberation
(and commit one), poking and popping a pupil painfully
NOT playful(or fair)ly.

Squeaking

Her “lips are sealed”.

Don’t be rude. I thought THAT too.

Yesterday (18th Septic Member 2009, yes these “NEAT NOTES” are
(years-)afterthoughts), I saw a van sign-written for the company :
“T. Watts”.

Squeaking, speaking of

Oh DOOOOOOOO pipe down ! My preferred pre-furred individual image.
Captain Caption = “Palming Off Ste(a)rn Bears“.

Kind o’ corny….we’ll be “playing FTSE” next…

A Little, Small, Wee Bear

…or putting our taddy ickle footsies where they done shouldn’t be !
As merely : “A Little, Small, Wee Bear“, this diminutive chap can
only BE “four feet on the table” if he HAS “four feet on the table”.

A Little, Small, Wee Bear

Can we emphasise enough how TEENY WEENY…. ooops ! How

<TEENY WEENY>

he is ?

Was sad to find his chair

The value of “Little Small, Wee Bear“‘s chairs has plummeted like
that of the stern Bear Stearns shares he was playing FTSE footsie with.

He’s like a “fish out of water” or a Koala in Guatemala.

Now what will he leave his heirs and (dis)(gruntled) graces ?

of porridge !

“Knowledge of Porridge !” perhaps. Let’s hope it is knowledge of its
“ace return” and not of its loss. It is indicated in this final image as
abundant, sweetened, milky oats in the bi-partite dome of a brain.

—————————————————
PRODUCTION PERIOD MAIN MEMORIES :
German Match Fixing, Death of Pope,
Marriage of Charles and Camilla,
Abandonment of Warehouse,
Peculiar Emergence of Cousin.

~