I don’t


devil-2 BOP.pngthe fascination everyone seems to have with/for ‘reflex’ cameras. Namely the hangover from an earlier time, the ‘Single Lens Reflex’. Sure, I had one myself back in the stone-age … a much beloved Olympus OM2N with a battery of lenses and filters and doodahs for doing all sorts of things (my Cokin collection was a significant investment).

My film SLR replaced my earlier Yashica Electro 35 (a sample of which still graces my bookery, behind me right now as I peck at these keys).


back to the question:

why do folks put up with the totally unnecessary mechanisms that are the ‘reflex’ pentaprisms and mirrors and springs and dampeners and excess baggage that make up the working works of the camera?

My OMD EM5 mk 2 which I absolutely adore (and refer to lovingly as ‘The Beast”) does what I personally think a good camera should do—it presents through the viewfinder the exact scene that the camera is looking at. And when I slam down the trigger button thing the camera records the scene ‘as-is/where is’ without noisy great redundant unnecessary obsolete hangover mechanisms hauling up mirrors, blocking out the view, vibrations and other such stuff.

So vision remains unimpaired without loss of target. No clunk-mechanisms, no nothing but serenity, sweetness, purity, and joy … without loss of target during firing (sometimes important).

Here, have thee an SLR image I purloined from a library book—

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—and using your imagination replace that expensive unnecessary redundant obsolete prism/mirror stuff with a wee TV screen that parallels the feed to your sensor:

  • no loss during shooting
  • wysiwyg
  • no unnecessary dampener mechanisms
  • no etc etc …

… aaaah, bugger it—we all have our little peccadilloes, no? Mine is vibration-free image capturing, yours is nostalgia for the technical miracle that is the SLR.

Peace, may you and your Beast be very happy together …



(Oh no …) “Yes, Mr Debbil, Sir, your unGodliness?”

“Leave ’em alone! Let ’em suffer for their art—”

“I see, Sir—by the time they get to you they’re acclimatised?”

“Bingo, Dog! Saves me a helluva lot of work …”








And NZ’s southernmost city is full of optimists. But first, even though a lot places here are leased very quickly in the heart of town—

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—it still pays for the unwary to become very wary and check not only the fine print, but the—

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Yup! The pace of change in Invercargill surprises even moi, sometimes—this above being the north end of that same wee building just a few moments later, when I backtracked for the snap.

I find myself wondering what sort of terms are being asked … and how long the tenancy on offer might be?







with the grey bit silent.

I offer nothing more this time than

(a) this snippet—

“But when Oshima said in 1943 that the raids were having little effect, and when he said the following year that German armaments production was in fact increasing, the Allies refused to believe him. First-hand evidence was no match for the biases of Bomber Command” … and

(b) history itself (doncha just love hindsight?); and

(c) human nature (the great eternal).


stop a moment to ponder whether the word can be applied to anyone you know, or may know of—and be advised, this is a mental exercise offered for your amusement only (no prizes are offered beyond a certain joyless smugness if you get it right).

Snippet snup from—

down finger

—with thanks.

(If you want a look at the future it pays to look at the past and GP objectively lays it bare for the looking.)




suggested that

Screen Shot 2019-08-09 at 19.36.07.png TIME TRAVEL

might one day help answer some of our questions regarding history and philosophy. Perhaps a time traveller may be able to get a photo, or a recording of some famous event? The scope is huge.


travel just through time, now, do we? It’s a bit more involved than that. (I remember in someone’s book where the Time Travel experiment wasn’t properly prepped—folks ended up embedded in walls or each other. Brrrr.)


Other than bashing him with it, how with your gun do you kill a man? Hah! You point it at him and trigger it. If all goes well there’s a bang as metal leaves at high speed. It damages by disruption; invoking the Law which states “… no two physical objects can share the same three dimensions of space at the same time”Attempting to make ’em do so means disruption. The bullet disrupts its soft target. Ouch.

So what happens if you were to be transported (miraculously*) back through time? Let’s say by one hundredth of a second. Then what?


That’s what.

Given the choice, I’d rather the bullet. Why? Try this thought: could YOU jump out of your own way in a hundredth of a second? Otherwise there would be two of you sharing the one space at the same time. Ouch.


you opt to go back in time far enough to be well clear of yourself—somewhere quite safe, like maybe one day back. (I said you were clever.) Now I’ll let you do the sums—but to simplify calculations, where would you like to start travelling from?


because it’s equatorial-ish. Good call. Now step into your magic box, dial in your day and BOOMFA! there you are, one day prior. Well done. But you aren’t in Singapore. You’re floating about in empty space …

You went back to where Singapore wasn’t—and won’t be for another day yet … and you’re freezing to death. Struggling to breathe too; you are not a happy chappie. But it was your call, and if you somehow manage to survive for a day you’ll be back where you started, no?

So how about going forwards in time?


Where are you now, do you think?


You forgot, didn’t you? You are here, now, but the rest of the world ain’t, yet … and won’t be for another day. 

I’d love to know the factors involved in Temporal Travel … say, if you wanted to go back to the time of Christ to witness the Crucifixion? Wow … anyone like to do the sums on this one? (The deflections, considering that we’re talking moving targets here?)

Personally I think we’re dealing with a wishful illusion

Any takers~? (Hah! Wimps …)

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“Argus! I don’t have time to read your rubbish—come back yesterday, please.”


dodo   dodo                                                                            dodo

* It would need a miracle—science can’t do it.


but still


Honestly, it’s enough to make one conclude that all the rational folks out there in blog-land have no answer. No? If you were to


was a cowboy, not … then the airwaves run blistering hot with debate. Feelings can get heated; everyone has a satisfactory answer and is willing to bombast it. But—


that neither God nor science can answer and all goes quiet. People do the blog equivalent of walk-away-whistling …  I’m left unsatisfied and they’re off the hook*. (Win/win?)


to belief.




I believe in concrete, granite, limestone, and facts. Let me put you out of your misery by revisiting an unanswered question, setting the scene with this snap taken of a modern machine transporting a massive boulder (stated to be in the region of 350 tons) in modern America—

Screen Shot 2019-06-14 at 19.20.43

—our rock is the white bit suspended under the roadster. Wow.

I had been considering re-posting the photos of the ancient Temple of Jupiter at Baalbeck, and of the wee 1000 (yep. Thousand) ton sculpted rocks in the local quarry but I gave it away. Instead my mind was taken by some damaged ancient walls over in South America—

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—ao look inside that red square. See how the brickwork goes all squiggly? Here’s a close-up for those who appreciate good squiggles:

down finger

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—and you may now tell this dum’ old dog what you think may have been done that to the wall (or was it built like that)? (Put me down for ‘done’ …)


Or must we consider that the cranks (when they babble about space aliens and ancient star-wars) … may possibly have something? Jesus, in a fit of pique?


here’s your refresher shot of the Temple of Jupiter at Baalbeck—

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—and those dots are genuine full-size bog-standard human beans. The larger stones** (we are told) came from the local quarry some half a mile or more away — and in the period allocated to the builders there weren’t all that many massive red-painted road machines around (nor smooth highways on which to run them).

AS FOR Skyborne piggy copy.png

the melted walls, it’s all just too self-evidently obvious really — just ask any archaeologist. Or even a vulcanologist— I’m always hip for a reasonable explanation. Try me, and stop one.

Do I have a theory to offer? Apologies, no … I never got past all them well-whipped slaves and endless wooden rollers …

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*   Oh … really?

** 800, 1000 tons~?



and/or the envious.


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—I actually like having a big

land filled with colourful characters just across the ditch from us. Sure, they do have some original ideas of their own—that kangaroo hoppity thing would be hard to beat—but WE have a flightless bird with a long nose and hairy feathers


—and WE don’t have to worry about all those minerals, snakes, crocodiles, spiders and stuff. We just content ourselves with being the world’s best and having the world’s very best beer … (but don’t tell them Aussies that—they get a bit scratchy about their stuff) (even if they sometimes can’t spell beer and have to label it XXXX).

Okaaaayyy … so it’s a big place… but can they poke their nose under a log to sniff out lunch? WE can! Yay!

Beaks rule!

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we’re THE world-beaters at modesty (and humility)!



NOT AT ALL Fly Pig, left big

in fact as happy as a jaded cynic can possibly when armed with a camera (and all prejudices vibrating at peak) when a couple of apparently Moslem chappies stepped arrogantly out of the side-street, too closely crossed my bows, and hoofed briskly away in front. Deep in animated conversation they completely ignored the well-wrapped figure—still perceivably feminine despite the accoutrements of over-dress—carrying a bonny wee babe in her arms silently following several yards behind.

They ignored her completely.

My first thought, that perhaps they might be deeply in love (with each other) was abandoned when I put their behaviour down to cultural differences. WOGs*.

My bows crossed but course unchanged I followed close behind and observed … that … at no time did either of them give the slightest sign that they were aware of the lady’s presence. She may as well have been a trained dog (in fact, I think she was).

AND she trotted astern in silence, holding and tending what was obviously a well cared for and much loved infant. I considered a snap or two for later commentary but gave away the whole idea—some WOGs* get a bit scratchy if a sub-human pays any attention to the lady they are totally ignoring; and I’m old enough now to be a bit more discreet.


and I went mine. But later when wanting a shot of the soon to be demolished Cambridge Arcade I saw them sitting outside the Esk Street entrance I reconsidered. The two guys were still deep in animated conversation, and (the missus?) aside in silence except for the child.

I got my snap and nobody noticed …

down finger

Screen Shot 2019-08-04 at 11.09.50.png

—make of it what you will. I found myself wondering if Mr Redhat and Mr Brown jacket were discussing tactics, strategy, ways-and-means of taking over New Zealand so it too could become an Islamic paradise.

Naaaaah … Islam is the definitive Great Religion Of Peace, no?

Stupid paranoid dog …

Screen Shot 2019-06-09 at 18.10.05


* WOG being of course “Word Of God” … I use it not pejoratively but to define. (Saves a lot of text.)