or was it vandals? Both? Who knows, it’s all ancient history now (hence my ‘Ozzy’ reference in a previous post somewhere)—
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter’d visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp’d on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock’d them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
I prefer to think of sackers as Vandals. We have ’em in modern Invercargill too, still, and they are voted into office—some of ’em—others by sheer talent kick and gouge and scratch and bite their way to positions of ultimate power. ‘Tis ever thus …
Now look ye upon these mighty works:
—where by the hand of
Man Person a lovely pyramid rises majestic and eternal above the deserts of trees and verdant stuffs, and …
… catch my despair as a Great Plan comes to fruition. (Aside: New Zealanders do not know the meaning of the simple English word ‘prone’. But our Cunning can, and do, apply it, twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools.)
If it wasn’t bad enough that New Zealand is genuinely ‘earthquake prone’ (yes, we get ’em a lot here) they actually broadcast the fact to all and sundry.
Not good … what they naively really mean is that Kiwiland stands at earthquake risk (face it, so does anybody).
In Invercargill it appears that clever people are using the fact to push/promote their own agendas.
The old saying is that “You can’t fight City Hall!” and there’s a great deal of truth therein. You can fight, yes—but expect to win? (Hah! You wish …)
So the ambitious here have a new broom—and she is decisive and swift. Atilla the Hun couldn’t have done better than she has, just look at these lovely trees now—
—and look upon Great works, ye paltry (it means citizens — you know, taxpayers and junk, to be courted only on election day) and weep*.
* Ooops, sorry trees … but you were in the way, dammit! (And in a hundred years who will give a large rodent’s derriere anyway?)