WROT WRITTED ( oops) WRITENED (oops—ah—)
(Extant? Bugger …_
A ceremony has been held at the Dunedin flat where the Christchurch terror accused lived to affirm the man’s beliefs ”have no place in Dunedin”.
The above is from The Otago Daily Times this date—
—which ODT is a news thing (the ODT, not this date, dammit) based in Dunedin. Sadly they too seem to be mourning the passing of the Proof Reader—if not, they damned well should be. (Subbies? Don’t get me started~!)
SO, PICKING A FEW MORE
pedantic nits—what might we assume from that above snippet?
Don’t ask moi—I’m still reeling in shock and having fitses of the vapourses*.
But today … aaaaah, todaaaaaay …
* Modern English
“… Please not to worry … is fine and has no intention of quitting.
Along with the power cuts … been without phone lines and internet access for almost two weeks …”
And thanks also go to the folks who got there quicker than moi: “Trust,” said the crusty old US president, “… but verify.”
I think we’ve verified enough and can look forward to the cynical damnated cynic getting back online and cynicising like fury to catch up. In the meantime, on his behalf (but without his permission) here’s the latest candid photo/video I shot with my wee spy-camera of the Ark contemplating his next post—
is it worth the angst?
I’ll admit it—I’m becoming a wee bit technophobic as the century scorches on by and leaves me choking in a cloud of obsolescent dust and feathers.
I tried creating a new blog using WP’s (lovely?) (Yeuch!) new ‘block’ method. I fell at the first hurdle when I discovered after too much time and effort that no matter what I did my ‘home’ and ‘contact’ details were up there for all the world to pounce on.
because it is effectively anonymous.
But when some anus puts my private details out on the web for every (other) kook to plague I’m tempted to give up. I blew it away and just hope that nobody saw it.
I DON’T WANT
anyone hounding and pounding my privates any more than I want religious/political wide-eyed & staring nutcases knocking me up to sell me God, Gods, gods, godlets or yet another true path to absolute bliss on earth in a Citizen’s Paradise. (I no longer even invite Mormons into my home, no matter how desperate they are for new sheep to skin.)(They were such fun, once …)
I LOVE BLOGGING
yes, because I can say what I think without anuses pounding on my door or worse. If I lose my anonymity then I’m out of here—the last time I checked ‘BLOGSPOT’ was still recruiting, and there’s no end of others.
Being able to say what you think used to be called ‘Free Speech’ and it is a diminishing resource. Lose it and we lose any semblance of freedom — not that there’s much left to lose anyway.
Almost. No more pinnies, no more walking blindfolded through tiled rooms, slipshod and Bristol fashion with a kipper in one sock and sweating through the formulas lest you get one word out of place …
THIS LOVELY MASONIC CENTRE
in Invercargill (the southernmost everything in the world)(boom boom~!) was for sale but has recently been purchased—
—by Islam and is destined to become “The southernmost mosque in the world”. To each his own—I tend often to think in symbols, and am happy to think that in this incarnation at least I shan’t see Islam taking over the planet.
—but that day will come, no?
Won’t it be wonderful? Just think, no more wars ‘cos everyone will be on the same page and Islam is THE great religion of peace~
Or an iconoclast?
An iconoclast defeated by modern technology, perhaps:—has humankind’s knowledge and skills advanced beyond the limits of mere divinities?
Is it true what they say about pride and falls?
this wee Oscar thing is peppered by more lightnings than the average householder sees in several incarnations—
—is its durability due to God’s kindness and mercy; or the fact that it’s riddled with intestinal fortitudes in the forms of lightning rods and conductors and earthing systems throughout? Hey … don’t ask me, I’m just a dum dog. A cynical dum dog and I’m asking YOU, Christian, to explain why in the first place this toy needs earthing-rods and stuff in the first place—could it be that an impotent God doesn’t like graven imagery and keeps trying to knock it off its perch but is beaten every time by human technology?
But you have to admit—that’s one lovely shot by the photographer (CLICK HERE) and excellent marksmanship by His Godliness. (Better luck next time, Lord … but hey, you knew this would happen thousands of millions of years ago, didn’t you? And in all that time you did nothing to adjust your aim?)
“Nice one, Dog! We’ll keep you …”
and used a book I’m finishing (and shall promptly re-read, now I know what it’s all about~!) as reference; the source for the below pic-and-comment which as always leads to an inevitable conclusion, namely—
WARS ARE NEITHER WON
BY HEROIC PAWNS* … BUT
BY INDUSTRIAL CAPACITY AND CAPABILITIES
—which explains why such emphasis is placed on either a “lightning strike” war (aka blitzkrieg) or successful total economic mobilisation whilst the pawns hold the line.
HERE’S A THOUGHT:
The wee damsel above is a heroic pawn.
The “real arrogant etc etc prick” referred to was also a heroic prawn … but wotif his success rate outnumbered production rates of ‘heroes’ and their tools (you know, dive bombers and tanks and battleships and other ‘boy’s toys’*)?
Short of enough nukes … we’d have lost and his ilk (brilliant theatricals, though~!) would have won.
CAN WE DRAW
any lessons from the History?
asking me. I’m a bit busy right now—
go ask a politician. They got all the answers … zzzzznorp …
* As used by the poor buggers at the front.
FEW IN MY TIME.
Books … and on a range of topics. Mostly I drift away from ‘Gung ho!’ warfare books but only because I was brought up to admire quiet achievers.
SO WHEN THE SPOUSE
came home with an aviation book by an American I accepted with good grace (and a few inward groans).
I really really really should get my cynicism adjusted: the book (which I’ve now almost finished and shall reread soonest) is much more better than just good.
It starts with the dawn of aviation and takes us from one Roland Garros not knocking the propellor off his string-bag (when firing a machine-gun through it) … to modern jet fighters.
The author’s justifiable pride in US achievements is there but hardly noticeable. He gives credit where due and when judgement is called for gives it without rubbing it in. (In fact, for my taste he understates the sheer stupidity, often, of British leadership and its eternal arrogant unpreparedness.*)
Hell—I’m not even finished the damn’ book yet, I’m only up to the bit where a crashed Nazi fighter ace asks to speak to the Russian man who just shot him down and is gob-smacked to be shown a rather pretty young lady …
Hardly … I also read somewhere else that the famous stuka (dive-bomber) ace Hans Rudel was a real arrogant Nazi … prick … but his score and story is very impressive; apparently he ‘knocked out’ over five hundred tanks, sank a battleship, a cruiser and quite a few other sundries. (You’d have to bone up on him if you want comprehensive totals.)
IN THE MEANTIME
I recommend Dan Hampton’s work—
—to/for anyone who wants comprehensive, gripping, and (dammit) inspiring. And now, thank heavens this post is over and I can get back to reading the book … don’t wait up.
* Hee hoo time again: hee hoo sticks head in sand leaves butt sticking up, invites good swift kick—any modern Brit reading this should ponder Santayana’s famous comment about the lessons of history.