Snippet No 1
From this morning’s online ‘Southland Times’ … makes me ponder a little—how would he/she/it consummate such a wedding? Brrrr …
yes. Possibly. In any detective mystery I always bite the red herring. No, devour would be a better way to put it, gobble even.
SO CAST YOUR EYES OVER
“Around 10.45pm, the station forecourt filled with people of an immigrant background. Women literally had to run the gauntlet through the mass of drunk men, in a way you can’t describe,” the report said.
read more: CLICK HERE
then track back. Either I’m a sucker for a good propaganda campaign or something is definitely unright …
it has to be propaganda, no? Islamics don’t drink alcohol. They religiously abstain ‘cos their paradigm
profit prophet (and God) told (commanded!) them not to.
“Many women came to officers shocked and crying and reported sex assaults. Police forces were unable to respond to all the events, assaults and offences. There were just too many at the same time.”
Therefore the above source—and all the others like it, quoting their anti-Islam lies—is fabricating. But why?
No. They can’t be telling the truth, or reporting actual facts; no, we cannot entertain that notion not for one moment nohow. For shame~!
But what if …
Can’t possibly happen. All lies. As ever I’m a sucker for propaganda …
Weekly Photo Challenge
Not often … a genuine card-carrying idiot (first class, boom boom~!) is rarely bored. Bored is for the intelligent bright folks lacking the stimulation they desperately crave.
And now: back to moi.
Herewith (hereunder, actually, for any nit-pickers) some snaps I took on various keep-fit walks in the Winton area. Self explanatory, so I shan’t explain them. Much.
WARNING: graphic imagery follows—
—and it does, too. In the meantime here’s yer now, as it was then, after we’d had a wee bit of rain. The farmer took it well. But then again, he’s had lots of practise. And now, another now—
—not long after the field had dried out (KIDS: don’t try this at home …).
And now (there’s that word again) to prove it was no fluke, here’s a different now—
—showing he’s a bit low on cows but up on crop at this stage. All good clean fun provided that no-one runs with sharpened harvesters in their hand …
—and I threw this one in just to show you what a ‘now’ can look like when you let your camera fiddle about with it. SO, for all you philosophically minded good folks out there in bloggo land; what can we conclude from this wee series?
Four shots, each and all of them a very precise spot-on cross section of their very own personal current ‘now’.
And they ever shall be, forever and ever, amen (for any PC genderists amongst us: please feel free to delete ‘amen’ and insert ‘awomen’ as you see fit*).
I still maintain that ‘now’ doesn’t exist.
And it never did.
* If you think this is being silly—it’s a lot less sillier than some of the stuff the Women’s Lip people kept coming out with back in the halcyon days of invading kiwi pubs waving their bras above their heads to show how equal they were. Some of them (Southland battle-maiden types) were far more equal than most males … brrrrrrr.
For this ‘nother test.
I’m trying to get some decent-sized photos in my posts. It used to be that I could drop a photo in when writing the post, and when published (in this theme) (‘Independent Publisher’ theme) it would be just large enough to be useful—
—but if after publishing you moused over it, the wee index would turn into a pointing hand (meaning an active link is present) and if you then clicked on it, some background magic would produce you a much larger version of the same photo. Magic.
For me it’s no longer working, and “I ain’t done nuffink, Guv~!” hence the hours I’m unhappily wasting and these all too frequent blasted ‘tests’.
So the shot I’ve just dragged and dropped in is now (preposting) actually quite large but appears in my manuscript here as smallish. If I’ve finally got it working as it used to until recently, it should now be an active link that will take you to the large size viewing.
Just testing, ‘cos the ‘theme’ I was using earlier no longer makes links of photos.
So if these test-shots come up usable on screen but are active links that takes us to larger versions … then things are working properly—
I hope. Looking good so far …
Here, have a tractor just moving up to take station in the parade. Southland’s Fire Service coming up astern to keep a weather eye open for it …
And now to see it this thing works for me …
Don’t wait up—the Preview function won’t open in a new tab, in fact just now it blew everything away and I had to use ‘History’ to find it and try again.
Why do these blasted Geeks keep ‘improving’ things?
Nope. Still not working, I’ll try another fiddle …
old friend—you’ve earned it!
in town yesterday, scenes much like these in many a shop window …
It gets worse …
And these days of ‘equal opportunity’ … hey, waida minute … is that what the outfit on the femmiquin to his starboard side is all about?
Someone is ahead of the ball here—Santarina Claus, of course! Vibrant new image to the festival—so maybe next year I’ll be putting real stockings up by the fire-breast … or maybe not, she might nick ’em … and has ol’ Rudolph done his Dash too?
The old order changeth
Yielding place to the new …
etc etc but in a world mobilis in mobile … who knows?
I’ve looked at quite a few responses so far, and not a single converging railway line in sight … yet.
‘Yes, little Virginia?’
‘Sir … can a single line converge?’
(and playing yet another game of mix-n-match with freeform interpretation) herewith a wee selection of convergences.
An observation I observated when observing some of the many offerings, is how much the convergence is a factor of the mind — my onboard dictionary defines convergence “as meeting at a point”. My own offerings (and most of the ones I looked at) don’t fit that definition, the ‘point’ they meet at is a mental construct from visual cues. How ’bout dat …
further ado and ‘cos The Spouse wants me to take her to town and is even now fighting it out with our neurotic shower, I’ll keep this brief and offer the ultimate in popular convergences—
—make of it what you will; must rush~!