harnessed, and to the fore again—
And who, really, can blame them? I mean …
I know that I too would be in the van (as it were) if I were that young and (dare I say it? Gullible? No. Naive? Inexperienced? Ignorant, even? Not that either: help me here, I need a word that means ‘unworldly’ without the connotations—a word that cannot be twisted by knaves* to make a trap for fools.)
Idealism has a place. The best of luck to it. But as a Cynic (1st class with Hons) I find myself asking where the hell she’d get that lovely umbrella if we saved the planet by shutting down all the umbrella factories — right back to source?**
“Stupid nut! Stupid nut!”
* Or knavettes.
** Shut the foundries that cast the metal bits, and the plastics factories, the distribution chains (you know: railways, ocean transport, roads … shops, rubber tyres, ice-creameries for the kids of the workers … all is interlinked. And inter-dependent …
Snippets from comments from down here
So Jesus led him forth* out of the woods and into the clear light of day … and the skies were filled with singing doves, the Heavens opened, clouds of angels burst forth into song and all was peace, goodness and sweetness and light.
Nice work if you can get it … but Who (may we ask) knew even before The Creation what was going to happen to that innocent infant, and did nothing to prevent it?
“Blast! There went my dinner~!”
* Well … meant to be fourth, but he tripped and came fifth …
Ye gods …
but first, by way of explanation, my reason for passive acceptance—
OR, as the old saying (oft attributed to Confucius) goes:
“If it’s inevitable, just
Lie back and enjoy it”
And here I’m mourning the dearth and death of Education. At least mathematics can’t be too interfered with by ‘progressives’ … lowest common denominator still rules, no?
—burgled from ‘The Southland Times’ (online) a few minutes ago.
Need I not say no more?*
* Hah! You thought I could never be brief …
was a sailing vessel that found its way into literature as a nautical mystery. No need to recap the story: everyone knows it.
Flash forward to the present day, in NZ’s southernmost ‘city’: Invercargill.
So if you stroll down Esk Street there you’ll find signs of mystery … peer into almost any shop window on the south side of the block and you’ll find something like this Japanese restaurant:
—apparently abandoned in Celestian haste with un-oriental disregard for money, property, or investment. Same on the north side … how so, and why?
City Hall, that’s how so, and why—
—let old Uncle MacB explain. (It’s only two minutes out of your allotted span)(but as a thinker you can relate to it, no?)*
Local government bought up enough of an entire city block to render anyone else there disposable—and then arse-holed the few diehard stayers out.
IN NEW ZEALAND
we pride ourselves on being the ‘world beating’ Free Society … think figuratively; tie in Macbeth’s cheery speech above to our real life. Sadly there’s no way we can ever hold our politicians to account. Hey … it might provide insight into the Mary Celeste?
* Reminiscing on Queen Free Enterprise …
“Educate and inform the whole mass of the people… They are the only sure reliance for the preservation of our liberty.” – Thomas Jefferson
(OFFICIALS, that is)
BUT WHAT CAN YOU DO
with elected ladies? The modern wimmin can be every bit as destructive once in office as any MCP. (Even much more so, some of ’em) …
A bit of a toughie.
But here’s advice just in from the front, given by a now departing long-service veteran polly—
Esler’s parting advice included: “never argue with people who are very old, very young, very angry, drunk or insane. Just smile, nod and grunt occasionally”
—and remember that if they are in office and hold power over you (and even more better) (for them) are funded with loot extracted at gunpoint from YOUR wallet that:
YOU voted for them!
(I didn’t—that’s one albatross no-one can ever hang around my furry neck.)
(For source of quote, click the above dove)
Or not …
(of any kind, anywhere, any time) is that system of dictatorship which takes away all of your Rights and gives just some of ’em back as privileges.
In the meantime, try this on for size—
And consider the implications … for example, do YOU really have the ‘Free Speech’ you fought and died for in The War*?
* Any war. (Insert your very own most favourite war here, and run with it.)
on my afternoon walk. Miles from the nearest convenience and with the dam threatening to burst—there was no way I’d make it to civilisation in time. But the golf course was within range (just) and the old “any port in a storm” adage is as valid today as it was before nuclear submarines and floating iron cities.
I ducked in …
… and forced into the nearest patch of trees with penetrable undergrowth … and actually made it just before the dam burst:
It was, like the man said of Waterloo: “A near run thing!”
As the mists cleared and the storm clouds dissipated and the sun came out and angelic choruses filled the air with praises to the God of long tinkles, I realised I’d have to get home … and which way had I come in?
Home was in that direction, not to be reached by following an elephant-trail of desperate destruction. So I homed from instinct … got a memento shot in a clearing almost at the edge—
—when just at the edge with only a few yards to go there was an explosion close (!) underfoot that shattered the bejabbers out of me and briefly left me with the thought that I might have to change my jockeys as well—
—as a huge mother-duck burst bellowing quacks from absolutely perfect cover. I kid you not, one more step and it would have been disaster for all concerned. She went off and when I’d stopped berating myself I checked out the nest, which looked like this:
—on close approach.
But when I got near enough to see (without disturbing possible infants) I counted eleven eggs. Eleven! Wow!
There may even have been more but I certainly wasn’t going to disturb nothing … no sign of Mother Duck when I emerged and thankfully no blasted golfers either. Set course for home, thinking that the old instincts do indeed pass with time:
MEMO TO SELF
In future be alert!*
“STUPID LERTS! STUPID LERTS!”
* Yes, I know … we need more lerts, right?
IN H&J’s Store
in Gore yesterday—a work that made me think someone had “captured the essence in minimal brushstrokes” … ergo, a Zen-like painting:
—hung above a stairwell that until recently led from the ground-floor to the upstairs munchery (which is gone now, and sadly missed).
Make of it what ye will …
“I’ll take your word for it, Argus!”
if ever you go to Gore there is a main-street bakery that sells the world’s very best doughnuts and cream buns. Ever~! Get in early, though, before they run out …
I can’t be bothered wasting good flea-scratching time on it, and/or its ilk. I just sit in rapt admiration at the feet of a clever man (Al Gore) who wrote a book that sold hugely and made a wealthy man even wealthier by stoking the fears of the gullible. Clever …
What really switched me to “Oh, yeah?” mode was that single word—emotive, grabbing, and meaningfully undefined—
—after which I went back to the fleas. They at least are reliable …