MARRIAGE OF TRUE MINDS ADMIT IMPEDIMENTS
etc etc etc yada yada yada and so forth ad infinitem. Now impedimate your mind with this snippet—
“… Of course, considering its accuracy, age, and the fact that its artistic style was not consistent with what was known from the era it supposedly belongs to, it was thought that what has come to be known as the Nebra Sky Disk was nothing more than a hoax or forgery, and prehistory professor at the University of Bristol, Richard Harrison, would say of it:
When I first heard about the Nebra Disc I thought it was a joke, indeed I thought it was a forgery. Because it’s such an extraordinary piece that it wouldn’t surprise any of us that a clever forger had cooked this up in a backroom and sold it for a lot of money …”
—referring to this beast
—which I just snup from CLICK HERE (being a link supplied by one of my very most favourite cranks, a guy called Graham Hancock (who does tend to get around a bit, look, see for himself and burble about what he’s seen as if his conclusions actually make any sense).
Which they do …
ONE OF THE BEST
images explaining the construction of the Giza pyramids—namely, how they got those cute little blocks up there:
(wait for it) …
… one of the best renditions of the Christian fishy symbol. Ever~!
Both available on U-toobe.
Just click ’em.
Or, don’t click ’em …
“… Suzuki subscribed to the idea that religions are each a sort of organism, which is (through time) subject to “irritation” and having a capacity to change or evolve …”
Suzuki was a lauded expert in his field (philosophy) (not motor-bikes) and his axiomatic observation needed stating—so he stated it.
Kudos to him~!
SO THERE WE HAVE IT FROM
an expert. An expert who thinks that religions change in order to better survive. He was an observant man and not afraid to state his case, I like him — what a pity he wasn’t a Christian … probably better for him; in the wrong time and/or place he might have been guest of honour at a Fire Festival in celebration of the infinite mercy of a compassionate omnipotent God …
—instead of inspiring warriors to paint cute little chickens. And furthermore, buy now and you get the disclaimer below entirely FREE—
No chickens or slightly tubby Oriental swordsman-monks were injured, damaged, infected, or otherwise hurt in the course of writing this post.
THAT I SAW ONCE
in a magazine—sadly the name of the magazine is long forgotten but the pungent cartoon lives on—
PICTURE, if you will, a semi-sozzled hubby arriving home quite late to a scribbled note on the table:
IS IN THE DOG
—and ponder your own probable handling of this kiwi lady’s problem—
—the major factor at work here, of course, is our Kiwi desperate need for Political Correctness (and to hell with any innocent) — New Zealanders MUST conform. The approval of their peers overrides any other considerations (like booting his little arse out of bed … or putting his dinner in the dog) …
—make of it wot thou wilt. (If you do go there, ’tis more productive to suffer through the blasted opening advert than to try to slither past).
I’m on the edge—
—but all my teachers used to say that too*. (So did my service superiors … and the local politicians … and the Mormons and Seventh Week Silver Goblins Society and other such things that now give my home a wide berth) (hell, even The Spouse refers to me sometimes as— no, we don’t go there … down that track be monsters …
* When not saying that I was over it. (Dum’ buggers …)
TO THE INADEQUATE
and/or the envious.
—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!
we’re THE world-beaters at modesty (and humility)!
but herein we shan’t go into that—suffice it to say that a person (we have to be gender neutral these days, no? So you’ll just have to hazard a guess at whether it was a male or not … ) was apparently rabbiting about in its (ugh!) drawers when they (ugh!) found a junk which they took along to Sotheby’s.
It’s a happy story and if you click there the link will take you to the BBC and from there you can carry on if your heart desires (by then I’ll have done my bit.)
So: CLICK HERE (or not, your call …)
AND AS ugly (quite disgustipating, actually) as the wee thing appears it sold for 735 thousand pounds (some sources say) or more like a million (some other sources say).
SO BE CAREFUL OUT THERE
when rabbiting about in the ancestral drawers … you never know:
man’s (oops) one per’s trash
is another per’s treasure …
Hey! Who YOU callin’ ugly—?