dodothere sometimes comes a moment of Truth when you realise that as good as it feels to waste your life in this manner there are other fields, other worlds, and other arrogant dupes Experts to confront.

Ignore them. Life is for the living, and as it says in their own ‘Good’ Book*

“Let the dead bury their dead”


For myself I do not fear death.  Possibly because I’ve lived a long and fruitless (sometimes quite debauched) (boom boom!) life and am in all respects ready to meet my maker. Or not—



“Hmmmm … yes, Argus?”

“If you exist, will you please grant me the honour of an interview before firing me down to Hel—”

“You’re already booked in Argus. But yes, we can meet—although I know everything you are going to say—”

“Oops. Omniscience, I’d forgotten about that. Bugger—”

“—and reserved a seat for you at my own table.”


“You, and just a few others, at least are honest. But then, I knew that before I created you and anything else …”

“You’re good like that, Sir—”

“Don’t flatter me, Argie. It ill becomes you.”

“Stating a fact, Sir. In many—if not all—other ways you are an absolute unscrupulous basta—”

“That’s enough, Dog. Point taken. Let’s keep it civil until we meet.”

Yeah, God knows. And He still has some explaining to do … but if I do have to meet my maker face to face when I have crossed the bar I bet I’ll fare a damned sight better than many of the ultra devout arrogant smug mindless automaton Christians**.


*    Yes, I’ll admit to having read from it. I’m no expert, thank God.

**  May they be endlessly ‘born again’ — at least until they see undefined Reality.





—not when there’s a buck to be made!


The discovery of the wreck of the battlecruiser Scharnhorst has thrown the German authorities into a flurry of indecision: should the ship, once the pride of Hitler’s navy, be dragged up from the deep as part of a broader campaign to recognise the country’s fallen warriors? Or should the watery grave of more than 1,000 sailors be left undisturbed, history left untouched?



But that’s just me. I posted fairly recently on the ‘war grave’ of HMS Exeter, a British WW2 cruiser that was sunk whilst ‘upon its lawful occasions’—a fact which meant nothing to the businesspersons vultures who mined the wreck for all they could get, much as maggots mine a dead elephant.

Nothing left of Exeter now but an Exeter shaped dent in the seabed.

My only fervent prayer wish is that:

(a)  they salvaged the guns,

(b)  that those guns were still loaded,

(c)  that the ammunition within still had enough life in it—

—to spontaneously detonate and convert the salvagers’ families into immediate widows and orphans … but sadly, ol’ God don’t work that way.


for the heirs to the murderous thugs of Nazi Germany—let your sleeping dogs lie only at their peril. Or your heroes too will have nowhere to ‘rest’; so for what it’s worth bring ’em home soonest or resign yourself to dropping the occasional flowers off at ‘X marks the spot’. Depth and remoteness, it seems, are/will no longer be any protection.

Now, a nice request for the God of nautical heroes—used by all and can be modified to suit any—

ETERNAL Lord God, who alone spreadest out the heavens, and rulest the raging of the sea; who hast compassed the waters with bounds until day and night come to an end: Be pleased to receive into thy Almighty and most gracious protection the persons of us thy servants, and the Fleet in which we serve. Preserve us from the dangers of the sea, and from the violence of the enemy; that we may be a safeguard unto our most gracious Sovereign Lady, Queen ELIZABETH, and her Dominions, and a security for such as pass on the seas upon their lawful occasions; that the inhabitants of our Island may in peace and quietness serve thee our God; and that we may return in safety to enjoy the blessings of the land, with the fruits of our labours; and with a thankful remembrance of thy mercies to praise and glorify thy holy Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Although I must admit, as admirable as the sentiments encompassed therein are it doesn’t seem all that effective …

Scharnhorst - wiki.jpg

… certainly didn’t do these guys (above) any good at all (thank God).





but apparently not alone. This in this morning—

Screen Shot 2017-09-05 at 08.02.14.png

—two happy grinning heads. But the vote-winning smiles and grins and cheeriness belie what is reported as going on, hence one reason for my confusement.

The other reason being the difference between potential and what is actually being done~

~surely the nation with unlimited Rambos and Chris Piles (hope I got that right, the famous sniper guy) and Gods know how many others—just look at that team that went in low, stormed that little old man’s house in Asia somewhere, captured his corpse, tactfully took it out to sea and gave it a decent Christian burial rather than humiliate it …

… could sort out one grinning mop head idiot in a backward under-developed half-starved vehicle-free impoverished little  dictatorship “democracy”?


Or is that nice Mr Trump diverting our attention from a long overdue ‘correction’, an invasion of the island of Fiji to unseat the dictators running it? Will the American armada turn left at the last moment and sprint south to storm Fiji by surprise—and so achieve a truly magnificent win for Democracy (SFX: very loud RAH RAH RAH here)?

Watch these spaces—but as a Conspiracy Theorist I still see an undeclared recognition/identification signal in those special haircuts … what aren’t we being told?


I know—but Daddy won’t let me tell you


Hey! You! You with the funny haircut … watch it! Or else!


Hey! You can’t talk to me …


… like that …








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—

Screen Shot 2017-08-30 at 21.30.19.png

—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.


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.


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—

Screen Shot 2017-08-30 at 21.59.07.png

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

Screen Shot 2017-08-30 at 21.59.47.png

—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) …


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


“Mr Argus! Sir~!”

BS 3Oops. Not good.

For little Virginia to be so definite I must’ve stepped on her toes. Cute little toes, but toes nonetheless. Ouch.

“Yes, Little Virg—”

“Sir! I know what you’re thinking! No good will come of it—”

“Little Cutie—so few read me I can say anything I like with no qualms—”

“On your own head, Sir!”

“Kismet, Kid.”

Ages ago I perused a purported ancient screed of wisdom. Tonight I was tossed headfirst back into it.


for sense. Run your own analysis, then join me in having pity for a sage who knows his onions:

Then to me spoke HE, the Master:

Know ye, O Thoth, in the beginning
there was VOID and nothingness,
a timeless, spaceless, nothingness.
And into the nothingness came a thought,
purposeful, all-pervading,
and It filled the VOID.
There existed no matter, only force,
a movement, a vortex, or vibration
of the purposeful thought
that filled the VOID …

Now how about—





—no? (If Jefferson can get away with holding some truths to be self-evident so can I.)


Mr Thoth’s optimism. And bits of it ring true. Time is indeed The Essence.

How often do I bleat that “If it happens at all, it happens in Time?” which is as self obvious. We shan’t go into the paradoxes …


No thinking, no reflecting,

Perfect emptiness;

Yet therein something moves,

Following its own course …


Time now (ouch) to reduce to unarguable simple mathematics:

no time = no nothing

—QED. Oh …

Time changes not,
but all things change in time.
For time is the force
that holds events separate,
each in its own proper place.
Time is not in motion,
but ye move through time
as your consciousness
moves from one event to another.

—and this guy scored a Godhood for that? There’s hope for me yet … I also often state that—

No two physical objects

Can occupy the same space

At the same time

Duuuuh …

… with the corollary—

Any determined attempt

to make them do so

will lead to disruption

—and in these few brief lines I’ve explained how atomic bombs work. Ye gods, I’m a genius! (Thoth—eat your heart out.)





I’ve posted in the past about how once at a meeting a young lady (school teacher type) asked “How can I boost the self esteem of a child?”.  (A bothersome boy, if I remember correctly.)

My own response differed from the majority of the others, which surprisingly in that company were too much like the quote below; but more of my view after you’ve had a wee beak at this driv   lot—


… The US-based National Association of School Psychologists published a much-cited paper on how parents and schools can boost self-esteem in children: ‘Adults must listen carefully to the child without interrupting, and should not tell the child how to feel.’ Meanwhile, the charity Family Lives tells parents ‘not to label, criticise or blame your child, as this would give them negative messages which… can have a detrimental impact on their emotional wellbeing later on in life’ …”

source:  CLICK HERE 

I said then and I say it again now, that the best way to artificially boost anyone’s self-esteem is to set them a really challenging task … and let them overcome the challenge themselves.

TrolletteYour problem is tuning the task to the victi  person. Too easy and you blow it, too tough and you shoot everyone in the foot. Stretch the little bugger and once he, she, or it achieves the solution … oh, wow! Boom boom!


how should we treat our poor little Snowflakes, hmmm? Are we allowed to stretch them? Can they be stretched—or do they drown you in tears?

Don’t ask me, I’m just a dum’ dog … go ask an educator (but I warn you now: you’d better have good control of your gagging reflex).







and make of it what you will. 

And yes, extrapolation is allowed (encouraged, actually).

Before most of the audience had arrived, I was checking the focus on the slides in my PowerPoint presentation prior to giving my talk and I put up on the screen an image which shows the Orion/Pyramids correlation and the Sphinx/Leo correlation at Giza in the epoch of 10,500 BC. Rightly and properly since the Orion correlation is Robert Bauval’s discovery I included a portrait of Robert Bauval in the slide. As soon as Zahi saw Robert’s image he became furiously angry, shouted at me, made insulting and demeaning comments about Robert, and told me that if I dared to mention a single word about Robert in my talk he would walk out and refuse to debate me.

This is a modern ‘scientist’ in frank and open debate? (No, I’m not referring to the gentle Mr Hancock —I mean the nice Mr Hawass.)

I explained that the alternative view of history that I was on stage to represent could not exclude the Orion correlation and therefore could not exclude Robert Bauval. At that, again shouting, Zahi marched out of the debating room. Frantic negotiations then took place off stage between the conference organisers and Zahi. Finally Zahi agreed to return and give his talk and answer questions from the audience, but he refused absolutely to hear or see my talk, or to engage in any debate with me. I therefore gave my talk to the audience without Zahi present (he sat in a room outside the conference hall while I spoke). When I had finished I answered questions from the audience. Then Zahi entered, gave his talk, answered questions from the audience and left.

well now ....png

One of the few members of the audience who had arrived early did manage to record part of the scene of Zahi storming out of the conference room — see here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Ziu2ygE_Wc

The whole illustrates the arrogant pignorance of the gentleman who had/has (?) his grip tightly around the neck of power at the actual site itself. Not good—but he would doubtlessly disagree; and I imagine that if I tried to debate the point would flounce petulantly out of the room with petticoats aflurry and spitting spiders in all directions.


For Source:  CLICK HERE


IT’S A ‘cultural’ thing?

So I (why always me?) must bend over backwards to accommodate such open-minded, well mannered, couth and cultured, scientifically inquisitive little oiks as  this nice man? (Unless I do I shan’t earn my Snowflake badge) (Bugger~!)

No, my apologies to any deserving sensitivities I may ruffle—this guy is often both desperate to be liked and desperate to appear unbiassed. But the mask drops easily to reveal the thug within (desperate thug, I must add). (Is he Islamic, by any chance—and thus entirely open to unchallenged debate?)


represents the ‘scientific’ establishment of Egyptian studies and antiquities I think our world is a sorry place.

Perhaps he learned his objectivity—if not his manners—at the Adolf Hitler School of Fine Arts in Berlin (and is older than he claims).

But he has style—those ‘Indiana Jones’ hats  … ’nuff sed.


For ol’ Zahi, the very antithesis of The Snowflake

* Yes, Little Ollivia … that was indeed sarcasm. Pure, unsubtle, unadulterated, and the quintessentially genuine article.