Here’s one way

of dealing with the aftermath—

—which reminds me of the axiom—

Before jumping into that lovely pool —

make damn sure you can get out after!

Do any of these ‘planet saver’ folks ever ponder the consequences of ‘saving’ the blasted planet? Don’t ask me, I’m just a dum’ mutt. Go ask a Greenie …





town & around. First though:  I plan on revamping my tired old blog (again, boom boom~!) soon, so these shots will be the last for a few days.

I’ll empty out the old, as in Tennyson’s “—the old order changeth, yielding place to the new etc etc”—and brevity will be my new punchline (SFX: insert muffled snigger here, please*).

HERE’S YER SHOTS  finger-pointing-down

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If you give up …

… it’s the view through a bullet-hole in a wee sign advising the innocent and unwary that

(a)  the bridge is unsafe,


(b)  beyond this point lies a ‘multiple hazard zone’. (I think the holes are the more eloquent warning, myself.)

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This above was a St Johns church—it went out of business recently due to the Laws Of Supply & Demand, and was purchased by the Southern Institute of Technology for repurposing into a vendor of more modern wisdoms. To each his own …


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Work proceeds at great pace in the new K-mart building. This is private enterprise having a public erection whilst the City Fathers are congratulating themselves on having ousted so much private enterprise from the so-called Invercargill Central Business District that it stands a very real chance of going extinct in the meantime.

‘Nuff on that, lest I spit spiders. Will it succeed? To my mind … not a ghost of a chance. Not without huge cash injections from the uncomplaining milch cows (Taxpayers) further down the track—but City Hall has insulated itself well from its own follies. Thank heavens for taxpayers, no?

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And here above is a wee once-was-a-cinema that has been repurposed as a church. (It works both ways, no?)

I’d like to be able to claim the ghostly figure strutting his stuff as a spectre but that’s not in the spirit of veracity—it’s actually an innocent hoofing along behind the mad old dog leaning with both paws around a camera pressed against a glass door.

If churches can be repurposed as centres of science, then why not amusement houses (cinemas) likewise, as centres of un-science, hmm? Or city blocks into follies—


Doomed city block


dodo    dodo    dodo                                   dodo

* Snigger, dammit—not mad guffaws. (And taiho on the hoots too~!)





tenorEasy answer:

You want acclaim and control. You lack principles, ethics, decency … dammit, you really should go into The Church—any religion will do*—and please stop seizing control of The Productive.

But you don’t. You are ambitious. You want your rewards now. So you go into politics.

Same deal—you sell the nonexistent to the undiscriminating.

It seems as (oops)


the world consists of just three basic types of people—

  • Producers,
  • Traders, and
  • Thieves.

Some folks produce stuff. At the basic level they produce the food we eat and are called farmers. An honourable title. Or manufacturers …

Some are traders, another honourable title. Trade is the lubricant that enables our human machine to function. Without traders we either starve or serve the third classification: Thieves.

Thieves are people who help themselves by force or guile to the product of other people’s efforts.

When they serve themselves openly we call them gangsters. When by stealth and cunning we call them politicians or priests.


openly seize control of ‘private’ property they invoke an odious clause which they sanctimoniously call


and that is that. End of story, no discussion; any attempt to retain the fruits of your own labours can result in you getting jostled by the state.


and it shall stand until proven otherwise—


—so far:  no takers.

“Well,” you may be asking yourself in bewilderment, “what the hell has gotten under the Old Dog’s fur this time?”

Simply this—

“… announced last week Government planned to merge New Zealand’s 16 polytechnics and institutions of technology into one entity, provisionally called the New Zealand Institute of Skills & Technology.

Under the proposal, the new body would manage capital and operational budgets, staffing, and learning management systems for all the institutions.”

Sourced: CLICK HERE 

—and in God’s Own Country, too.

My advice? Don’t fight The State, Kiwi—just guzzle your beer, smile and wave, and keep doing important things like practising them hakas—

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—and don’t ever think. Free country, no?



* So long as it’s ‘official’ enough to qualify for those all essential ‘tax breaks’.



Simple survival of the ignorantest? The fittest, or those with the moral turpitude to ‘mañana’ themselves to a morally smug self-destruction?


sadly. If I were I’d be waving my magic wand with mad abandonment … or: is what He is doing the divine equivalent of pulling the wings off flies?

God, apparently (~obviously!) is right into it (sorry, flies).

With no apologies to anyone’s sensitivities:

I think God is a colossal sadist*

Any takers?

Oh … yes … the item that made me have a quiet ponder this morning, from Spiegel—

down there

In the 1950s, Lagos was home to just 300,000 people. Today, around 20 million live here. And by 2050, that number is likely to double to 40 million. According to projections by the United Nations, Nigeria could have a population of 400 million people by then, which would make it the third most populous country in the world.

Lagos is a prime place to observe the effects of population growth in many developing and threshold countries. Unable to survive in the countryside do to the lack of work and shortages of food and water, people are flocking to the cities. And it isn’t difficult to guess that some of them will continue onward to a place where hunger isn’t a problem, where it is peaceful and where prosperity is at least a possibility. To Europe. In 2017, migrants from Nigeria represented the fourth-largest group of asylum-seekers in the European Union, after refuges from Syria, Iraq and Afghanistan. In 2018, they were in seventh place.


* And I’ve never (R) NEVER been refuted. Or challenged. (Or even scored an indignant religious squawk … a bit disappointing, but there ya go—unarguable points, best leave ’em alone to die in silent solitude, alone and unnoticed.)


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At first the little yellowy bricks had me just a wee bit briefly puzzled.

And then:  SATORI~!

Don’t you just love those “Aha~!!!” moments?

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Momentarily stopped me in my tracks they did, and then it occurred why the Invercargill Council folks go for brick (roads) rather than conventional tarmac in the heart of town.

Don’t you just love it?

And soon they’ll be demolishing an entire city block—THE commercial heart of town, to put in their new all-singing all-dancing ULTRA Special … … White Elephant.

No consideration for the people who’d established businesses there in good faith: EXCELSIOR~! and damn the torpedoes*.

Possibly unrelated, the now mayor (who achieved fame in the Vietnam War era by leading a disruptive  anti-social movement of yobbos which called itself the Progressive Youth Movement) (and who wrote the book called “Bullshit and Jellybeans”) has just been knighted and is now Sir Timothy Shadbolt. Kudos to him, the man is a laughing clown (born showman) who milks his attributes for all they are worth—

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—came down from Auckland, eventually ended up in “Invers” and was elected on his hooted “I don’t care where, so long as I’m mayor!”

I just hope they think to keep the same roading in place and save a few bucks now and forever (‘cos they’re forever digging the blasted roads up) …


* Which is easy enough for the captain on the bridge to bellow gloriously (with one eye on the camera) but tends to make the guys deep down in the hull with the lids clamped tight get a bit twitchy.




PC, notthat money should have value. You know, that old ‘be a mutually acceptable easily exchangeable ready-use store of value’ sort of thing. Real value, objective value. Enduring value.

It did/was, once, too … back when money meant gold and suchlike.

The world has moved on since then and money nowadays is either:

(a) very rarely seen, or

(b) never seen.

But don’t get me started—been there, done that—now quietly coasting to the finish line and hoping that ‘money’ doesn’t achieve its true worth in the years I have left. Brrrr.


is triggered by this article—

line birds.gif


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—from this morning’s New Zealand Herald (online).

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When money was money (was too, once. Several times …) you (meaning they) couldn’t fiddle about with it. Not too much.

An ounce of (say) gold was an ounce of gold, end of story: it was the same ounce in the US or Russia or Afghanistan or Mombasa or Antarctica … (and fortunes could be made by the astute exchanging their cheap junky trinkets for someone else’s cheap junky metal).

Voluntary exchange to mutual satisfaction? Aaaahhhh … free market*


*  (Forgive me, Lords, for I have used a naughty four-letter word).