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!

 

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THANK GOD

WHICHEVER GOD,

Dodogods, goddesses, godlets and/or Godlings—

that I was born when and where I was. Yay for fortune~!

Luckily I don’t think I’ll still be here by the time these (read quote below) trees come to fruit or the proverbial hits the fan.

Try this on for size (I’ll wait, take your time)—

An author and educator has been ridiculed after saying parents should ask babies for consent before a nappy change, and watch for a response through body language.

Deanne Carson said in an ABC News segment that families could set up “a culture of consent” in the home by asking newborns: “I’m going to change your nappy now, is that OK?”

The CEO of youth relationship service Body Safety Australia added: “Of course, a baby’s not going to respond, ‘Yes Mum, that’s awesome, I’d love to have my nappy changed,’ but if you leave a space and wait for body language and wait to make eye contact, then you’re letting that child know that their response matters.”

—and ponder all possible meanings of the word ‘educator’ and whether it can possibly have any relevance in the Real World.

To read whole article at source: CLICK HERE

… or not click there and thusly save yourself a few bellowed guffaws of the sort that always attract unwanted attention and spray coffee over your screen if reading in Starbucks or Maccers or wherever you’ve sneaked away to.

BUT WAIT

—before you get all judgemental, it was sourced in Australia (which may explain quite a bit).

Thank heavens, and phew~!

images

Hold me tight …

 

A PROPHET

WITHOUT HONOUR

is he still a figure 0f “WHAAAAT? — Shock, gasp, horrors, dismay!!”?

MY LORDS,

Ladies and Gentlemen,

and the rest of you oafs—I give you now my prompt (as in cue, or clue, or trigger—not as in immediate).

Read it if you dare, and bitterly regret all those missed omelettes. Miss an omelette even once and you’ve lost it for ever (but let’s not get lost in philosophising here; I’m sure God knew what S/He was doing when It set the ball rolling—

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—all those years ago.) To see what I’m (rather indignantly, I might add, on your behalf, not mine) raving about this time just click the eggie pic above. If all goes well you will be delivered unto The New Zealand Herald. But be assured that the ol’ dog has had two eggs (yes, two! Eeeeeeek!) eggs for breakfast every morning for decades. Fried, and served hot on cheese on toast.

I DISCOVERED

that my recipe (sans frills) is more or less a croque mitaine of French faim (sort of)—

“Monsieur Argus, Sir?”

“Good heavens … it’s Little Virginie! Virginia’s fro  French cousine!”

“Sir … don’t you mean une c. Madame? A croque mitaine is a sort of bugbear used to frighten les little enfants into being bon!”

(Bugger! It must run in their family …)

 

“HEY! Vous! Monsieur Argus!”

 

(Oh no …)

Bugbear big

“Vous avez something against croque mitaines?”

 

Nothing at all against CMs … but a lot against people who believe everything they’re told. As a ‘live, and let live’ kinda oaf myself I’ve enjoyed many raised eyebrows over the past decades for what I choose to eat (and actually buried a few health-nuts).

C’est la vie …

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NOT GIVEN

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AS I AM TO

preaching, or (God forbid) offering no unsolicited advice to nobody … I watched this earlier and thought that not only everyone should see it, but everyone with youngsters in tow or youth to instruct—or Gunnies in the marines, Chiefs in navies, nannies with prams, profs in colleges … anyone in a position of “Hey, Kid! Look, watch, absorb and learn~!”

And with this post (thanks to whoever it was shot them poor innocent little duckies) you can retire all your Good Books, Bibles, manuals, treatises, Inspirationals etc …

I KNOW A GUY

who vicariously instructed his sons with Hornblower. I kid you not … I’ve never got far with them myself, but he (the Dad) was a very accomplished guy and his kids are doing pretty damn good too. (I recommend ‘The Richest Man In Babylon’ myself but that’s just me—it works even if you lack talents (oops) but aren’t totally somnambulant).

In the meantime: get ducking~!

Shaitan

“Hey, Argie!”

“Yo?”

“Nice one, Dude~!”

For you connoisseurs—

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—the rarely photographed southern aspect of a north steaming duck.

 

BOOM BOOM! (white shadow)

TIME TO DRAW

attention to

panacea

POLITICS

again. Everything is politics

MY BLOGS

have a couple of ‘Pages’ attached.

One of them, (in a form anyone can read) is written more or less as child-lit. Kid-lit, call it what you will. I first drafted it before the great J K Rowling hit the shelves so although you may find similarities there’s no plagiarism involved. She made a bundle, I flubbed, but that’s the way of it and I won’t (can’t~!) complain. Dammit …

IN MY ‘TABITHA

tale I encapsulated a lifetime’s observations with a few bits of cynical thought. But the premises are valid and I challenge anyone to dispute them:

Tabby.png

—and for anyone not au fait with the British way of English, Swindleham isn’t pronounced “Swindle Ham”.  It’s actually “Swindle ’em” …

falls off a pale horse

 

HAVE YOU NEVER

OF COURSE YOU HAVE … pc

have wot? Oh, yes—seen photographs that on face value carry one message but on closer persus perussa  look make you think more deeper.

Like these from Pinterest. I hate/loathe/detest Pinterest ‘cos I slightly dislike their method—baited hooks indeed.

Fie on them!

Oops … rant finished, where were we? Oh yes—

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—a bit dated in appearance, but still also a bit amusing.

Obviously ‘trick’ photography in the apparent day, or tweaked Photoshoppery of our own day; or (horrors!) genuine. Brrr.

I READ SOMEWHERE

that one is no longer permitted to clamber all over the pyramids. It makes good sense—ever since that tourist fell off one that time and his life expectancy shrank from years to milliseconds on the way down.

IT IS

obviously too dangerous for the modern adventurer, hence the ban. Even for wimmin. Okay, girls can do anything—play golf too, it seems—now take a closer look at the right side image: very attractive smile, but did she really climb all the way to the top of the GP of E in that tight skirt?

Did she tuck it into her knickers, or take it off completely, replacing it for the photo once on the summit? Maidenly modesty is history?

Were they delivered by helicopter for a publicity shot? Did she carry her own sack of clubs up there, or did the Araby caddy guy carry them for her?*

Questions, questions, always blasted questions … being of waning interest I asked The Oracle (Google) and the first try brought forth into the world this—

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—and feeling the heat of a low doppler fox I tried again, scoring this—

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—at which point I decided I’d had enough of this silly game and will go back to researching the Serapeum (that isn’t a load of bull) …

Kismet

* Wow~! Four consecutive words ending with a ‘y’. Hah~!

 

YE GODS

AKA BB D 2.png

“Beam me up, Scotty—

buitre16

—there’s not a great deal of intelligent life down here~!”

WE ALL HAVE

our little idiosyncrasies. Some of us even dedicate our lives to idiot-syncrasies, which is more than doubleplus ungood.

Like wee cutie, here   ——>

who seems to have slipped the leash back in chapter 1. I no longer trust anything I read in modern media, it could be simple typos (nothing wrong with that if no wars are started because of them) or even the deplorable state of modern journalism. By way of anticipating rebuttitive squawks I offer this verbatim snippet —

Though her eyes are naturally large, she wears contact lenses to enhance them, boosting the size of her iris from 13.5cm to 16.2cm …

—and leave it for you to make any decisions (although I am reminded of a sketch in a Billy Connolley show where he convinces his short-sighted Dad that ‘prescription windscreens’ would obviate the need to wear glasses when driving—

“…but can you imagine the effect on a driver coming the other way? …

‘Eek! What the f**k is that~!?

Damn. He tells it much better than I. Perhaps it really is just a proofing error, the mind would boggle otherwise. Anyway, here’s your link:  CLICK HERE

And if you do go there be prepared to gast your flabbers …

 

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And now, with a set precedent preceding me: I wonder how much it would cost to have my own visage enhanced …

argus