DODGE CITY

DEEP SOUTH

Screen Shot 2018-06-30 at 18.15.27.pngmaybe.

Or maybe not, but once you’ve read our Kiwi take on the English language (below) you’ll see why we’re such brilliant world-beating expert rugby players. Here, try it—you’ll like it:

“…The person who was shot was not a parkrunner, nor were they in the park when the incident happened.

“They were on the opposite side of the road to our park when the incident happened.”

Henry did the best they could keep thing as normal as possible for the other runners and not cause alarm.

The children in the group were moved away from the area where the shooting happened to keep them safe, she said …”

To read from source: CLICK HERE

It so happens that The Spouse and I went to town this morning with the intention of parking in the now unused car parks close by the now defunct Pyramid (“Tallest pyramid in the southern hemisphere”!) (yeah, right) but were stopped by a man in the middle of the road holding what appeared to be an M16. Nice man pointed us off into a different direction, and never one to argue with the man with the gun I turned and went.

A block or two over I tried again, and this time a whole police car (wow, sparkly lighting!) was broadside on across the road with more pointings and flappings so off again we toddled.

Ended up in the heart of town close to one of our favourite coffee places, but of course nobody knew nothing and we had to wait until we got home much later (Southlanders are very laid back) to find out what had happened to take the gloss off of my photographic ramble through the park.

Scuttlebutt had it that someone got shot, and I guess the above news article sort of confirms it. In the meantime:  how about that reporting as an exemplar of modun Inglish gramma, hey?

(Yeah, I know … boooooooooring~!)

DodoDodoDodoDodoDodoDodoDodoDodoDodoDodo

 

RESPECT BIRD BRAINS?

BUT FIRST

Dodoa one line quiz (Americans need not attempt)—

Q:  Why did the seabirds fall and crash?

A:  (No, not yet, go to the foot of the page. But don’t do it until you have read the clues presented in this referenced article in the Southland Times: CLICK HERE)

And why would I exclude Yanks?

Nothing personal. I have the greatest (and ever increasing, dammit) respect for Yanks—but it pays to be practical, sometimes. Here, now have thee a nice chicken to admire (aaaawww, c’mon Argus! Why the hell should anyone admire a skinny black duck?) (So read on, and be enlightened …).

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Okay then … but you’ll hate me for it—here’s yer answer:

 

finger down

A:  ‘Cos they ran out of petrol~!

BOOM BOOM!

 

2 great minds

devil-29973__340 copyleft this planet recently. Bound for who knows where? Solutions to the 4d equations* perhaps? Or the more rational end-qua-end (as in el finito) …

One refers of course to those two great identical polar opposites: one Prof Stephen Hawking and one Sir Terry Pratchett. Of the two I personally prefer ol’ Terry—he made me laugh. In fact his legacy is laughter**, and where would a religious denier be more likely to find God: in the infinite reaches of space, or between the leaves of a Terry Pratchett novel?

Dammit, not only does Terry make me laugh—the worlds he created are vastly more credible than those between the sheets of any religious exemplar’s bed. Book! I meant book! pratchett_portrait.jpg

I discovered his works quite late in life. (I lie, I allowed those bloody awful covers to put me off ever reading one for years and years.) (More the fool me, then. ‘Nuff said.)

Wit and wisdom~! Ye gods, what more could a thinker possibly want—

“The presence of those seeking the truth is infinitely to be preferred to the presence of those who think they’ve found it.” — Monstrous Regiment

—and often what he puts into the mouths of his characters can sting. (Dammit, I should bloody well know—

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Perhaps Hawking and Sir Terence met up recently somewhere in the vast reaches of time and space; it would be an interesting environment in which to be a silent speck on the wall … just specktating; I could contribute nothing but I’m sure they’d be delighted by each other’s company.

“Always be wary of any helpful item that weighs less than its operating manual.”

“They say a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, but it’s not one half so bad as a lot of ignorance.” 

“Stories of imagination tend to upset those without one.”

“It’s not worth doing something unless you were doing something that someone, somewhere, would much rather you weren’t doing.”

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* Death, Doom, Defeat, Despair and/or Disaster (yeah … I can’t count neither).

** Leavened with great wisdoms but so subtly done it hurts to read (go on, force yourself, try it … you may just like it).

     BOOM BOOM!.png

NEEDED

an unjaundiced 

Dodo

EYE                         

please.

I visit lots of cranks (I heard that—who just muttered ‘other cranks‘?) in the course of my explorations. I look at lots of images, but this one I find disturbing and can’t fathom why. Read on …

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It purports to show a monk-type guy in an ancient man-made cave (you know the ones: hewn from solid rock using copper tools etc etc). The guy is demonstrating how highly polished a surface the ancients managed to achieve a in their underground workings. But:

finger down

But there’s something about the image I find disturbing and I can’t fathom why.

I also had a look recently at Bright Insight’s (one of my most favourite cranks)(such unabashed enthusiasm!) u-toobe posts on Petra. Great imagery, and not once did I stop to wonder how those guys in olden times did all that …

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—and if you visit BI’s webbie (the snap above is your link) you’ll see what I mean. (If his rapt enthusiasm gets to you, just turn the sound off—but frankly, I enjoy it.)

gast me flabbers!

OH … WOW!!!!

 

EVERYONE (yes, YOU too, Bub~!)

HAS AN OPINION

on the GP of EBugbear big

and its little buddies.

Disclaimer: in no way do I offer ‘ancient alien astronauts’ as an answer to any questions I raise. 

NOW THEN

everyone who has even momentarily thunk about the GP complex has a thought on how the pyramids were constructed. I was taught at school by experts that under the guidance of priests (with whips) they were built by many oodles of slaves towing huge lumps of stone on loggy rollers.

This seems to have been the paradigm of choice right up until recently when the script was amended thus:

(a) delete ‘slave/s’, and in place

(b) insert ‘volunteers’.

But with few answers forthcoming on how such (immaculately carved and squared) rocks—averaging two and a half tons each—were lifted hundreds of feet up. Actually, it seems that nobody knows but everyone is happy to tell us—

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—and there we have it. So uncomplicated—why didn’t we think of it before? I mean, just look at it … easy peasy, huh?

BEFORE WE GO FURTHER

here, have a few shots of a wee pyramid—

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looking up …

and:

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perched upon …

and:

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looking down …

yeah, right, I get it.

Ramps! Hey, why not … worked for the Romans at Masada, no? So that’s the problems solved—just shove a ramp up—but don’t forget that some of those stones weigh seventy tons or more. Oops … extra slaves, please, and put the whippers on overtime.

BUT WAIT, IT GETS

better. A few of those ‘immaculate’ blocks have weathered since the casing stones came off hundreds of years ago; but even so—

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—I think the pyramid was more its function than its bits. To my uneducated eye that lot looks like nothing more than ‘infill rubble’ (although impressive).

I THINK

the uneducated were utilised to toss those rubbley bits into place to form a core (complete with chambers and shafts and stuff) while the educated performed the final placings and alignments with superbly dressed casing stones, in and out.

BUT I SHALL

continue to visit the literature of folks who have all the answers, ‘cos I can offer only questions. (The explanation I most adore is the one where they floated the stones up the sides in water-lifts using inflated bladders.)

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Cheaper if you buy in bulk …

gast me flabbers!

Oh, WOW!

 

BEING A

CRANK

devil-29973__340I’m allowed to ask innocent questions. I’m also allowed (nay, expected) to visit other crank sites and gobble up their good stuffs with mad raptorous abandonment*.

So I wolf the u-tubes of folks like Jimmy (‘Bright Insight’) (loooove his enthusiasm); or of a someone who seems happy making a living by helping folks glut their desires for mystery—Brien Foerster’s offerings are worth the visit too. It’s an honest buck**.

SOMETIMES

I follow leads, asking questions from a great height (Google satellites—we mortals can’t get much higher from our armchairs). Like this—

Abu Gorab.png

—which to put into context you’d have to go to Brien’s UT post: CLICK HERE

I notice a lot of things but the most intriguing might also have the most mundane explanations: like what are those wee circles?

While poor ol’ Brien ponders his shattered pyramid being off true north by 23 degrees, I ponder the minors … here, have a nice shattered pyramid—

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—possibly damaged beyond economical repair by some oaf stumbling about in the dark. Or perhaps God got grumpy ‘cos they didn’t slaughter Him enough lambs***.

I love cranks and admire anyone who turns an honest buck. People want weirdies, Brien serves ’em up—but genuine weirdies you can touch, kick, climb over and feel that you’ve got your money’s worth—

—not like those in church where the holey bikkie blatantly does NOT become human flesh, nor the wine turn into (retch) blood. Brrrrr, but it takes all sorts …

Eve & Lution

“He wot, you say? Loves animals? Oh … really?”

Dodo

Dodo

Dodo

* No. Good spotting, but it’s not a typo … us birdbrains are right into our puns, no?

** Hence my intense dislike of the clergy (any clergy).

*** God looooooves little lambs, they’re so … … innocent. And delicious.

BORING …

boring boring boring …

Dodo

is arguing ‘religion’ with the saved. They are dead, and as it says in the Bible: “Let the dead bury their dead…” Brilliant!

I posted this comment finger down  (below) on a fellow blogger’s blog recently, and the seeds falling on un-stoney ground thought I’d share my brilliance with all my reader*.

Comme ca—

Same old, same old … if you want Reality in this life, try a new approach—give away the mental masturbation that is arguing with diehard religiosi (of any ilk) and instead go to the roots. Do what they do, but do it with Reality on your side—

So:

(a) get hold of the young, and
(b) inculcate them with one simple tool

that will serve them forever. Read on, for tool.

That tool is simply the Law of Contradiction.
Nothing more, nothing less.

The LOC states simply (I beg rebuttals!)—

CONTRADICTIONS CANNOT EXIST
IF you find an apparent contradiction,
look to the premises—
—one of them at least is false

Think about it … a loving God and a plague? An all-powerful compassionate God and Satan? A merciful God and napalm? The love of the Omnipotent and the Holy Inquisition?

You can have a field day with the one … get the young thinking.
Give them the tools to think with~!

—but in as much as masturbation doesn’t produce offspring, I guess folks will stick with the shadow rather than the substance. Yes, it is more fun and I guess you can’t contract el gravo diseaso that way … but if you want fruit you have to plant, no?

GET THOSE YOUNG ONES THINKING, DAMMIT~!

It means:

(a) for themselves. So

(b) give ’em the tools …

(c) … then get out of their way.

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* Both of you …