In the spirit of Carl Sagan, what are the origins of these fellows? Salt Spring Island, Norway, Sweden, or Galiano Island? When and where did these fellows originate? Hmmmm.........
Origins of Gnomes
- Thread starter galianomama
- Start date
What is it with you and little people? I don't see any ghomes in your yard 
What kind of ghomes are you talking about the 7 dwarf kind or the gargoyle kind? Guess you don't have any repairs to do today, eh.
What kind of ghomes are you talking about the 7 dwarf kind or the gargoyle kind? Guess you don't have any repairs to do today, eh.You know I love gnomes - duh! - maybe it has something to do with the fact I am barely 4' tall. what a dimball. no - wait! what a Gnome!!! Ouch.
Seriously though, where did they come from, and who decided they belonged in our garden. Member 'pet rocks'. Whatever happened to them? Did they breed and end up on our beachs, does someone still have one in their house, without even knowing it is a pet rock. Poor thing.
Gnomes - the other people.
Seriously though, where did they come from, and who decided they belonged in our garden. Member 'pet rocks'. Whatever happened to them? Did they breed and end up on our beachs, does someone still have one in their house, without even knowing it is a pet rock. Poor thing.
Gnomes - the other people.
I guess that means you will be coffeeing it up all day at the noodle box. More on your topic later I actually have some machines to fix. :lol:
More on your topic later I actually have some machines to fix. :lol:A BIT OF GNOMELORE FOR YA
Numerous stores and catalogs are selling all sorts of little woodland folk being called "Gnomes" – but they’re not Gnomes at all. That can cause frustrating confusion and be misleading to new collectors. Gnomes don’t have pointed ears like gremlins, pixies and elves – or pointed toes with noisy bells like a jester. A Gnome isn’t like just another smiling Santa Claus. The best place for a new collector to start is with reading the book “Gnomes.”
There are many humans who don’t believe in Gnomes – and some are “undecided.” It, therefore, behooves true believers to always welcome an opportunity to clarify misconceptions and correct knowledge. We humans must remember that we can only know as much about the private Gnome world as Gnomes are willing to share. Gnomes live in many countries, but this write-up has a Swedish slant because the writer is of Swedish descent. In Sweden, the name for “Gnome” is “Tomte” -- pronounced “tomb-teh” (as in “tomb” with a sound of “teh” on the end like the “Te” in “Tetley” tea).
“Tomte” - A Gnome (Tomte)
“Tomten” - THE Gnome (talking about/referring to A Gnome)
”Tomtar” - Gnomes – plural
“Tomtarna” - THE Gnomes – plural
Numerous stores and catalogs are selling all sorts of little woodland folk being called "Gnomes" – but they’re not Gnomes at all. That can cause frustrating confusion and be misleading to new collectors. Gnomes don’t have pointed ears like gremlins, pixies and elves – or pointed toes with noisy bells like a jester. A Gnome isn’t like just another smiling Santa Claus. The best place for a new collector to start is with reading the book “Gnomes.”
There are many humans who don’t believe in Gnomes – and some are “undecided.” It, therefore, behooves true believers to always welcome an opportunity to clarify misconceptions and correct knowledge. We humans must remember that we can only know as much about the private Gnome world as Gnomes are willing to share. Gnomes live in many countries, but this write-up has a Swedish slant because the writer is of Swedish descent. In Sweden, the name for “Gnome” is “Tomte” -- pronounced “tomb-teh” (as in “tomb” with a sound of “teh” on the end like the “Te” in “Tetley” tea).
“Tomte” - A Gnome (Tomte)
“Tomten” - THE Gnome (talking about/referring to A Gnome)
”Tomtar” - Gnomes – plural
“Tomtarna” - THE Gnomes – plural
obsplz your avatar is great, where did you get it? you sound like you might know a little something about gnomes? Do you have any?
galaniomama the following should interest you in regards to your own gnome collection, which might need some protection :lol:
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Gnome gnappers?
LILLE, France - Garden gnomes are disappearing again in France now that a spoof group idolizing Snow White and the Seven Dwarves has resumed its campaign to "liberate" the statues from flower beds and well-kept lawns.
The Garden Gnomes Liberation Front (FLNJ), which operates seven-member night-time "commandos" to snatch the gnomes, has made off with a dozen ceramic dwarves this week around Dunkirk, near the Belgian border, residents say.
The masked raiders declared a "truce" in January after rounding up about 30 gnomes in Normandy and "freeing" them in local forests, presumably to return to the normal life of a story-book dwarf.
In each of the latest abductions, the FLNJ left a message saying: "Dear Papa, Dear Mama -- I was happy with you but now I have to leave you. Signed: your garden gnome." One message said the FLNJ wanted to "re-educate" the dwarves.
Local police said they had not launched any investigation into the wave of gnome-snatching because no owner has come forward with an official complaint.
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Gnome gnappers?
LILLE, France - Garden gnomes are disappearing again in France now that a spoof group idolizing Snow White and the Seven Dwarves has resumed its campaign to "liberate" the statues from flower beds and well-kept lawns.
The Garden Gnomes Liberation Front (FLNJ), which operates seven-member night-time "commandos" to snatch the gnomes, has made off with a dozen ceramic dwarves this week around Dunkirk, near the Belgian border, residents say.
The masked raiders declared a "truce" in January after rounding up about 30 gnomes in Normandy and "freeing" them in local forests, presumably to return to the normal life of a story-book dwarf.
In each of the latest abductions, the FLNJ left a message saying: "Dear Papa, Dear Mama -- I was happy with you but now I have to leave you. Signed: your garden gnome." One message said the FLNJ wanted to "re-educate" the dwarves.
Local police said they had not launched any investigation into the wave of gnome-snatching because no owner has come forward with an official complaint.
In case you are not aware of it my gnomes have their own theme song.
Cheer up, humans You know what they say.
Some things in life are bad,
They can really make you mad.
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle,
Don't grumble, give a wistle!
And this'll help things turn out for the best...
And...
(the music fades into the song)
...always look on the bright side of life!
(whistle)
Always look on the bright side of life...
If life seems jolly rotten,
There's something you've forgotten!
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing,
When you're feeling in the dumps,
Don't be silly chumps,
Just purse your lips and whistle -- that's the thing!
And... always look on the bright side of life...
(whistle)
Come on!
(other start to join in)
Always look on the bright side of life...
(whistle)
For life is quite absurd,
And death's the final word.
You must always face the curtain with a bow!
Forget about your sin -- give the audience a grin,
Enjoy it -- it's the last chance anyhow!
So always look on the bright side of death!
Just before you draw your terminal breath.
Life's a piece of shit,
When you look at it.
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true,
You'll see it's all a show,
Keep 'em laughing as you go.
Just remember that the last laugh is on you!
And always look on the bright side of life
(whistle)
Always look on the bright side of life
(whistle)
Cheer up, humans You know what they say.
Some things in life are bad,
They can really make you mad.
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle,
Don't grumble, give a wistle!
And this'll help things turn out for the best...
And...
(the music fades into the song)
...always look on the bright side of life!
(whistle)
Always look on the bright side of life...
If life seems jolly rotten,
There's something you've forgotten!
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing,
When you're feeling in the dumps,
Don't be silly chumps,
Just purse your lips and whistle -- that's the thing!
And... always look on the bright side of life...
(whistle)
Come on!
(other start to join in)
Always look on the bright side of life...
(whistle)
For life is quite absurd,
And death's the final word.
You must always face the curtain with a bow!
Forget about your sin -- give the audience a grin,
Enjoy it -- it's the last chance anyhow!
So always look on the bright side of death!
Just before you draw your terminal breath.
Life's a piece of shit,
When you look at it.
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true,
You'll see it's all a show,
Keep 'em laughing as you go.
Just remember that the last laugh is on you!
And always look on the bright side of life
(whistle)
Always look on the bright side of life
(whistle)
I wrote this a while ago...I don't know why. It isn't very good and doesn;t make a whole lot of sense. I know that the gnomes started out as a metaphor for a couple of cowboys I know (knew) in Montana, but that quickly disappeared in...goofiness, I guess.
Save the Gnomes
I was talking to the gnomes in my basement last night. It’s been a while, since I don’t go down there much. I wonder how they are doing sometimes, but they are an independent bunch, and heavily armed, so I generally leave them to their own devices. I was sitting on the floor by the cold air return and it sounded like they were having a party though, so I opened a beer and yelled down to ask them what they were celebrating.
My query was met with the usual response…some small arms fire, a few rebel yells, and some cursing. One of them pushed a chair over to the pipes and yelled back, “We aren’t celebrating. We’re having a wake.”
“Who died?” I wondered.
“Not who, what,” the gnome slurred back.
Gnomes are sticklers for accuracy. “Okay, what died?” I corrected myself.
“Some dignities, some freedoms…there was a slaughter, a mass murder.” The statement was followed by some banging and some muffled threats, then a bout of gunfire.
A new voice came through the register. “Everything’s fine,” it said, “We’re just letting off a little steam.” That was followed by a shotgun blast.
After a while a new voice came from the register, “Rev? It’s me, Teddy. Things here have gone horribly wrong. Our king turned out to be a psychopath. We need a place to hide until he’s gone. Can we live upstairs with you?”
“I thought the King was from a different basement and that you guys just ignored him?”
“He is, but technically he rules all Basement Gnomes. He’s hired a bunch of storm troopers to come here and keep us in line. We’ve killed off the first batch, I hope you don’t mind but we buried them in the kitty litter, but there will be more soon.” Teddy sounded nervous.
I considered that for a moment. My Basement Gnomes aren’t evil really, but they are a little…well…rambunctious you might say. I thought about the implications of having a race of tiny warriors running around my living room listening to heavy metal bagpipe music, exchanging gunfire, and having knife fights to determine who won the latest Scrabble tournament. They scare the dogs and drink all my beer. I decided against it.
I had to help them though. Some of these gnomes are my friends after all, and they’ve kept the cats in line for years, not to mention helping with the laundry. I couldn’t just leave them to be oppressed. I promised to make a few calls.
The King of Basement Gnomes has no jurisdiction above ground level, so I’d have to find a safe place for my gnomes in somebody’s main living area. I called my friend Eugene first, but he refused to help because the King of Gnomes buys things from Eugene’s scrap yard. I called many friends and relatives. Many of them went denied the existence of Basement Gnomes and one of them suggested that I call an exterminator. Some of them seemed a little pissed off about the phone ringing in the middle of the night. My own mother mentioned that sane people are usually asleep at 4:30, not calling people to find a place for their weird friends to sleep. You’d think my mother would be used to that sort of thing by now.
So the gnomes need your help. They require a refuge above ground until a more reasonable ruler can be installed. Anyplace will do…abandoned houses, empty garages, old barns. The gnomes earn their keep too…they kill vermin for food and clothing and provide heat with their rather, uh…shall we say ungainly, mating habits.
Save the Gnomes
I was talking to the gnomes in my basement last night. It’s been a while, since I don’t go down there much. I wonder how they are doing sometimes, but they are an independent bunch, and heavily armed, so I generally leave them to their own devices. I was sitting on the floor by the cold air return and it sounded like they were having a party though, so I opened a beer and yelled down to ask them what they were celebrating.
My query was met with the usual response…some small arms fire, a few rebel yells, and some cursing. One of them pushed a chair over to the pipes and yelled back, “We aren’t celebrating. We’re having a wake.”
“Who died?” I wondered.
“Not who, what,” the gnome slurred back.
Gnomes are sticklers for accuracy. “Okay, what died?” I corrected myself.
“Some dignities, some freedoms…there was a slaughter, a mass murder.” The statement was followed by some banging and some muffled threats, then a bout of gunfire.
A new voice came through the register. “Everything’s fine,” it said, “We’re just letting off a little steam.” That was followed by a shotgun blast.
After a while a new voice came from the register, “Rev? It’s me, Teddy. Things here have gone horribly wrong. Our king turned out to be a psychopath. We need a place to hide until he’s gone. Can we live upstairs with you?”
“I thought the King was from a different basement and that you guys just ignored him?”
“He is, but technically he rules all Basement Gnomes. He’s hired a bunch of storm troopers to come here and keep us in line. We’ve killed off the first batch, I hope you don’t mind but we buried them in the kitty litter, but there will be more soon.” Teddy sounded nervous.
I considered that for a moment. My Basement Gnomes aren’t evil really, but they are a little…well…rambunctious you might say. I thought about the implications of having a race of tiny warriors running around my living room listening to heavy metal bagpipe music, exchanging gunfire, and having knife fights to determine who won the latest Scrabble tournament. They scare the dogs and drink all my beer. I decided against it.
I had to help them though. Some of these gnomes are my friends after all, and they’ve kept the cats in line for years, not to mention helping with the laundry. I couldn’t just leave them to be oppressed. I promised to make a few calls.
The King of Basement Gnomes has no jurisdiction above ground level, so I’d have to find a safe place for my gnomes in somebody’s main living area. I called my friend Eugene first, but he refused to help because the King of Gnomes buys things from Eugene’s scrap yard. I called many friends and relatives. Many of them went denied the existence of Basement Gnomes and one of them suggested that I call an exterminator. Some of them seemed a little pissed off about the phone ringing in the middle of the night. My own mother mentioned that sane people are usually asleep at 4:30, not calling people to find a place for their weird friends to sleep. You’d think my mother would be used to that sort of thing by now.
So the gnomes need your help. They require a refuge above ground until a more reasonable ruler can be installed. Anyplace will do…abandoned houses, empty garages, old barns. The gnomes earn their keep too…they kill vermin for food and clothing and provide heat with their rather, uh…shall we say ungainly, mating habits.