OH … REEELLY? As in

devil-2 BOPYA DON’T SAY!?

And/or

WOW!

Followed by (SFX: Peter Sellers, please, doing Indian accent)

“Goodness gracious me~”

Enough, I say! Cast your envious little peepers over this wee snippet from today’s ‘Southland Times’—

https://www.stuff.co.nz/business/116432366/countdown-rolls-out-nationwide-lowsensory-quiet-hours-after-successful-trials?rm=m

—and ponder all possible meanings of the below expression

down finger

WOTEVER NEXT?

And in the meantime, I have just done your homework for you. There will be no charge:

 

dodododo                                                                      dodo

LET US NOT TO THE

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   down finger

 

—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 …

dodo

 

CLIMATE CHANGE, A

MISH MASH

https://www.teachertube.com/video/the-climate-mash-72431

—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).

Me?

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

Screen Shot 2019-04-07 at 19.05.49

* When not saying that I was over it. (Dum’ buggers …)

WHERE DOES SENTIMENT END

and either

ARCHAEOLOGY,

or

SOUND COMMERCIAL SENSE

begin? A bit of a toughie … but before we go there, how come it’s always British? Nary a mention of US ships, or German, or any other buggers’ … perhaps it’s parochialism on the part of the reporters and the Truth is that they’re all doing it. Being done. Wotever …

I MENTIONED IN AN EARLIER

post (somewhere) that the sunken wreck of the WW2 Brit cruiser HMS Exeter (Battle of the River Plate, and others) has gone, existing now as just a recognisable dent in the seabed.

WHEN I WAS IN THE NAVY

and if we were in the vicinity we had to pop over to some wrecks to shoo off any vultures and to pay our respects. (Somewhere among my souvenirs I still have a very faded side-scan sonar trace of HMS Prince Of Wales.)

“The dull reverberations of the underwater explosions are clearly audible from the surface. The scavengers have returned, laying home-made charges to break up the hulls of two of the most celebrated British warships of the age, sunk in December 1941 and the last resting places of more than 830 Royal Navy sailors.”

Come on, come onnnnn~!

Bop 2

Whaddya expect, really?

Piles of dollars are just lying there for the grabbing—to be ignored, out of sentiment for human remains that were long ago fish fodder?

Sentiment for an ancient battle fought between foreigners, long generations ago?

Come on, get real!

Screen Shot 2019-01-16 at 10.04.24.png

Attacked by aircraft the two put up a fearsome fight until some rotten bugger hit Prince Of Wales with a fish right in the rudder/propulsion bits—and all went downhill from then. (Can’t complain, an act of God and all part of His Great Plan.) (Ruined a few days back in London, though.)

FRANKLY, IT WERE ME

in charge now (or even with just the means) I’d sneak out there at night and booby-trap those wrecks to the nth degree. Next burglar to burgle wouldn’t know about it … but it might slow some of the others down for a while~?

 

dodo

 

I THINK

there’s something wrong with modern ‘education’.

CALL ME

PC, nota silly old poop and I’ll be happy. Recognition in my own lifetime (sniff).

AND, ONE OF MY

favourite movies (current First Place, in fact) is the latest “Peter Rabbit”.

Recently I tripped over a prime example of modernity in the online rubble of what was once the mighty New Zealand Herald—

“Despite the darker undertones, this madcap movie is a refreshingly real take on Potter’s 1902 tale, one that adds romantic elements between the leads, a hilariously airy Rose Byrne as Bea, and the two-faced antics of Domhnall Gleeson as Thomas McGregor.

As Thomas, Gleeson plays the gardener’s son who returns home to find his dad’s house full of farmyard animals and launches an all-out war on Peter Rabbit and co, one that escalates to include dynamite being thrown into rabbit warrens, and humans being electrocuted.

Yes, Peter Rabbit has “PG – Violence” rating for a reason …”

to read from source: click here 

—and it triggered an eyebrow raise so emphatic that had I been wearing a rabbit it would have flown across the room.

These (reporters) are the product of folks who insisted on fencing all the swimming pools … whilst completely neglecting the many thousands of miles of coastlines, lake sides, streams, creeks, rivers, puddles, bath tubs and cess pits. The mind boggles—Moderns have no idea of what it’s like without a crash helmet, and for all I know what it’s like to paddle in a puddle without a lifejacket.

Sure … in the movie old man McGregor karks it—but not in such a manner as to so arouse the indignation of the PC. He dies so sweetly and gently that even the rabbit he plans on turning into a pie has his doubts.

“…Yes, Peter Rabbit has “PG – Violence” rating for a reason.

I was expecting cute and cuddly animals, vegetable puns, an over-the-top love story and to probably have a bit of a sleep halfway through this.

I was not expecting bunny murder, dynamite and electrocutions …”

Oh dear. I remember when Noddy was excoriated by the PC for sharing a bed with Big Ears—

HONI SOIT

QUI

MAL Y PENSE

A THOUGHT:

if she is so peeved … how would she write up a review on The Bible?**

1 ac

*   Staged. Gotta be. (And they let people like that drive cars?)

** A task I’d cheerfully accept myself if paid enough.

CHRISTMAS

the

COMMERCIALISATION

thereof. Jolly-old-saint-nick.gif

IT WAS BAD ENOUGH

when the various ancient festivals of the midwinter solstice were hijacked by Christ.

AND NOW IT’S EVEN

worse when all pretence at human feeling, love, compassion and all that other temporary garbage is sacrificed on the altar of the great God Bux. Made even more worser by the fact that right now we are going into spring—and by the time the Great Festive Season gets here we will all be sweltering our little furry socks off. Ho ho bloody ho, indeed! Yeuch!

COMMERCIALISATION?

I’ve often quoted the US Civil War general’s words to the effect that battles are won by whoever gets there the firstest with the mostest, then I snapped this yesterday in Invercargill’s biggest department store—

Screen Shot 2018-09-26 at 19.29.37.png

—and this, good citizens, is what it’s really all about. Boom boom! The other stores are not far behind.

I have tried to suggest that ‘Christmas’ here be shifted to mid-winter, which in light of the truth makes much better sense* … no banana for me, though.

I REALLY MISS

the Christmases of my childhood. Money was scarce but the Spirit of Christmas wasn’t. (Okaaaaaayyyy … the Spirit of The Winter Solstice (hijacked by yet another ‘God’ from the land of apparently infinite gods) wasn’t.)

CHRISTMAS

and commercialisation. Why not? And if I may make a prediction—

we’ll be having Matariki holidays complete with Matariki trees next … with the Big Star exhorting us to

BUY!  BUY!  BUY! 

SPEND!     SPEND!        SPEND!

… so much more New Zealand, really, than dead guys born in a shabby desert motel to some insignificant cuckolded wood-worker half a world and many centuries ago …

Screen Shot 2018-09-27 at 10.29.31.png

Don’t just sit there! Get out and spend!

 

dodo

 

 

 

* Matariki, anyone?

THE OTHER

NEW ZEALAND, THAT

nobody dare mention …

 

devil-2

FIRST

your snippet—

A classic car club stopped to take in the sights of Taharoa were chased out of the remote Waikato town by local Māori threatening to shoot them and bash their cars if they didn’t leave.”

Sourced:  CLICK HERE 

I know where these ‘victims’ are coming from—I was driving The Spouse through lovely Southland along a less frequented coastal road fairly recently. We thought it was just another country road but the further we went the less and less welcome we felt. If body language speaks, and if the ‘vibes’ can convey meaning—we felt vibed. Really bad juju—

—Maori country.

We turned about and left. At speed. Whatever the history books may say, whatever the state of the State propaganda, whatever the Public Face of this “We are all one people now!” nation—if ever you come here: be careful.

Sure, ‘we’ took their land. (Yes, that’s what kids are taught in kiwi schools—that the nice cuddly native folks are the victims here. Brrrrrr …)

THEY MAKE A BIG

thing of repatriating some of the many Maori souvenir heads (that found their way overseas a few generations back as legitimate souvenirs—souvenirs bought and paid for with no thought of how they were converted from living breathing human beings into grimacing processed mementos).

FOR SOME REASON

those goods once profitably exported as tourist junk have now become Sacred Ancestral Relics—proof indeed, of the utter savagery of the (mostly British, of course) seamen and others who purchased them … on the open market …

Screen Shot 2018-08-21 at 17.14.31

Screen Shot 2018-08-21 at 17.21.11.png

A collector ....pngRobley (tourist above) took souvenirs seriously

BEING MAORI

these days is Big Business, a source of income based on pure Theatre.

Theatre rules across the board, from the opportunistic ‘haka’ at sporting events to the welcoming home of processed heads—

Screen Shot 2018-08-21 at 17.54.42.png

—and I imagine that at ground floor level some of the players are actually sincere.

read more:  click here 

AS FOR ME

I simply stay away from Maori areas.

Racist? No … survivalist. I value, if not my life, my hub-caps … so I shan’t try to go surfing up north.

Or in the deep south … or west …

free marketeers haggling

NZ Souvenir stall 17-1800s

selfie