New York Movie, Edward Hopper, 1939
Night to all – I am pleasantly awash in good single malt, and the memories of great days of glory,…
New York Movie, Edward Hopper, 1939
Night to all – I am pleasantly awash in good single malt, and the memories of great days of glory,…
Anyway, “Sliante ” to all you mob. Reading a very good account of the Battle For Arnhem – The author…
Just watched Andrew Bolt on Sky Virtually called Pauline Hansen a liar. What an arse!
Listening to the audio the 000 operator says the bike was hit by the car – not the caller. The…
Be interesting what spin the “Dan Andrews Fan Club” places on this one!
I had to check the name, P, because I didn’t recognise it. It was only gazetted in 2011 as a new suburb. It is in the Cambridge Park area which I do know; we used to go out there to a waterhole sometimes to swim, travelling in one of my ex- brother-in-law’s crazy old cars, an old Morgan I think, the one with a dicky seat, with six of us crammed into it somehow. Church fellowship days.
There were a few slimy logs but didn’t come across any Rainbow Serpent and one of the guys would have shot it if we had. We were always on the look0ut for snakes in those days.
On a good note, my Complete Collection of Sharpe DVD’s arrived yesterday. Also the Complete Hornblower series. With all the other DVD’s I have bought over the last couple of months, the long winter evenings ahead of me are well catered for. 😀
Took a few hits by the sound of it Pogria.
The eternal conundrum. People; you can’t live with them and it is frowned upon to shoot them.
rickw: The school had never had art classes before that year, as being proficient with paint and wotnot was regarded as irrelevant to the core business of turning out future judges, doctors, accountants and, as Mannix intended, saving the sharper specimens of Collingwood from life in a shoe factory, point being that they would form a Catholic phalanx in the more influential strata of Melbourne business and society.
So the art education was very much a poor cousin subject, hence the crappy old shelter becoming “a studio”, complete with aged and cracking floorboards.
Things have changed.
Last I heard the same school, an all-boys one, had a Year 12 student calling himself Emily and getting about in a tunic.
I’d love to know what Mannix would have said about that.
There is a lot out there on the net about this, but heres a few reasons:
Seeds are *vital* parts of plants – they protect them with a variety of defences, including hard shells and toxic molecules (peach and apricot seeds, for example, contain cyanide). Eating seeds of any sort, but particularly industrially processing them to extract the oils produces ‘foods’ that were never part of our ancestral diet – we are not adapted to them. They include molecules that we never experienced ancestrally, including poly unsaturated and trans fats. Unlike saturated animal fats, our metabolism is not designed to deal with these.
https://youtu.be/wPlHuXYI8v0
https://youtu.be/lzazaZLnWNA
“Sliante” to all you mob.
Mme Zulu is on the mend. There is “lunch with the girls” being planned at a very good winery, a descent on a local frock salon and a visit to a very good ladies hairdresser, all being plotted. Secret Women’s business.
No.
Another win. TWO for the Monts this week.
Back in the early 2000s on the Matilda forum (before threaded topics – quite like the Open Thread, neh?) I had heard that you understood your arguments better when you argued for the other side.
So I created a new username and became an anti-gun mong, retaining my person other than name and side of the argument. It drove a few pro-gunners NUTS that I was qualified on the SLR, was not vegetarian, had killed my own meat… and appeared able to respond to rationality, yet was not on their side.
Conclusion: skinsuits are fun. Right Groogs?
Good news on the Mme, Zulu. Felicitations!
An old man is walking down the street one afternoon when he sees a woman with perfect breasts.
He says to her “Hey miss, would you let me BITE your breasts for $100?” “Are you nuts?!” she replies, and keeps walking away.
He turns around, runs around the block and gets to the corner before she does. “Would you let me bite your breasts for $1,000?” he asks again. “Listen you! I’m not that kind of woman! Got it!!”
So the little old man runs around the next block and faces her again “Would you let me bite your breasts -just once- for $10,000?!” She thinks about it for a while and says “Hmmm $10,000… okay just once, but not here. Let’s go to that dark alley over there”.
So they go into the alley, where she takes off her blouse to reveal the most perfect breasts in the world. As soon as he sees them, he grabs them and starts caressing them, fondling them slowly, kissing them, licking them, burying his face in them – but not biting them!
The woman finally gets annoyed and asks, ‘Well? Are you gonna bite them or not?” “Nah” says the little old man… “too expensive!”
My attitude has always been, if you fall flat on your face, at least you’re moving forward. All you have to do is get back up and try again.
– Sir Richard Branson
Pogriasays:
March 10, 2023 at 11:46 pm
On a good note, my Complete Collection of Sharpe DVD’s arrived yesterday. Also the Complete Hornblower series. With all the other DVD’s I have bought over the last couple of months, the long winter evenings ahead of me are well catered for. ?
There’s a lot of Hornblower on Youtube. Not too sure about Sharpe.
Hopefully, you have plenty of nice reds to go with those DVD’s.
Dotsays:
March 10, 2023 at 11:20 pm
I can’t believe people use Gildas as a serious historical source.
There are claims the AS started to head over to England as far back as 380 AD.
Gildas died in 570 AD.
The Battle of Badon Hill could have been anytime between 430 AD and 500 AD.
Then there is the boffin who thinks Arthur was a Strathclydian General who fought against the Picts in the 530s.
https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/king-arthur-legendary-figure-was-real-and-lived-most-of-his-life-in-strathclyde-academic-claims-10483364.html
Well, it turns out that Old Frisian and Old English had a lot in common, and that relationship remains today: Frisian is English’s closest living relative with 80% lexical similarity. Together, they form their Anglo-Frisian branch of the West Germanic language family tree, which also houses German and Dutch.
Must have been all that yelling across the North Sea that did it. LOL Good job that someone was listening.
Nothing to do with Saxons, Angles, Jutes, and Frisian Tourists visiting Britannica at all………….More LOL.
Angle land became England and East Anglia? Who knows. Wot’ ever happened to West Anglia? Essex is East Saxons. Wessex is West Saxons. Sussex is well maybe South Saxons and Middlesex is where the Tranny Saxons settled……………………….FFS.
Pogriasays:
March 10, 2023 at 11:46 pm
On a good note, my Complete Collection of Sharpe DVD’s arrived yesterday. Also the Complete Hornblower series. With all the other DVD’s I have bought over the last couple of months, the long winter evenings ahead of me are well catered for. ?
There’s a lot of Hornblower on Youtube. Not too sure about Sharpe.
Hopefully, you have plenty of nice reds to go with those DVD’s.
At Clare for the long weekend. Riding the resisting trail up the incline with the better half. Girls don’t ride the bike get the electric bike.
Rode down the incline to SevenHill winery. The Jesuits had a family day.
Amazing green lawns, families with young children running around. The women were were gorgeous in looks and nature.
The trio playing were great.
The feel was welcoming and peaceful.
The way it should be.
Filling my bike at a gas station in Wyoming, I was approached by a tall, elderly gentleman in boots, jeans, a waistcoat, checked shirt and a bolo tie with a silver clasp. Oh, and a Stetson. He was I guess in his mid-70s or older, with a white moustache, and lean and spare. He moved with a slow grace. He’d been filling a work-worn 4×4 at the pump just behind mine.
He introduced himself with a “Pardon me, I hope you don’t mind, but I heard you talking and was wondering about the accent. I figure South African, New Zealand or Australian, but I just can’t be sure.”
I explained and we chatted for a while and I told him how we were on a motorcycle tour around the Pacific North-west.
‘Well’, he said, tipping his hat. “I surely hope you enjoy my country and that my fellow Americans look after you. You have a nice holiday.”
As he turned away I noticed, tucked into the belt on his hip, a pair of soft-looking pale brown leather gloves. And just behind them, also high on his belt in a holster, was a small-framed revolver which, to my untrained eye looked to be well worn but well cared for. No-one raised even an eyebrow.