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Shenanigans at the Wailing Sireen
There is a pub on the downtown docks known far and wide named the Wailing Sireen.
It is owned and operated by a gentleman( Loose term) known as Brute Burton. Brute is a rather impressive specimen, standing well over 2 meters tall, weighing over 15 stone, and strong enough to have lifted a 600 pound ox to win a wager. Not the type of man, if one is sane, to plays tricks upon!
Now Brute Burton is a retired sailor himself, who had worked the riggings of many a brig that travelled our seven seas. He retired the same day they permanently docked his last birth, a fine 3 Masted schooner christened the HMS Cybelemoon, a ship he had been mated on for the last 12 years. As the schooner was being overhauled, he bought several of the hand engraved exported mahogany planks from the captains quarters, and taking them to the pub he had purchased with his life savings, fashioned them into a bar that ran the whole length of the Wailing Sireen’s west wall.
Most of the many bars located along that old, salt weathered waterfront have a somewhat nasty reputation for being quite rowdy establishments, full of drinkin sailors, wild women, fights breaking out on the minute, and other forms of debauchery and nefarious activities.
But the Wailing Sireen is some what of an anomaly around these parts, for Brute Burton will have none of that rowdiness in his place. Although not perfect, its patrons have become accustomed to obeying the taverns unspoken rules, for by doing so, would mean a quick grab and throw out the BACK doors by Brute, whose best effort once threw a rather drunk sailor across the road and through the doors of the bar on the other side. A massive heave of over 8 stone and 12 meters distance!!
The Wailing Sireen is located close to the quite popular Oceanside gambling casino, Hermes Rest, well known to be an underworld held establishment!
Now one would think, given the clientele of the area, along with Brutes lack of toleration for rowdiness, that the Wailing Sireen pub would be almost void of patrons. But actually the place is usually packed, especially on weekends when the folks from uptown who want a bit of excitement by going down to that somewhat chancy side of town. They start up gambling a bit at the casino, then gather upon the Wailing Sireen, knowing that they will be fairly safe within the old blackened interior of the large pub as they rub elbows with perhaps ( shall we say?) the least desirable members of their society.
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And so, we now come to the evening of our tale: an early fall evening, full harvest moon just peaking over the tall masts of the ships docked in the small harbour that was the bread and butter of the town that surrounded it.
It is a crowded Friday night, full of sailors in port, college students on a holiday weekend, all mixed in with the wealthier , more daring of the townsfolk. The narrow sidewalks that line the cobblestone street are crowded with a score or more of happily liquored souls wondering to and from the casino, bar to bar, in search of satisfying whatever the reason is that brings them out to this area.
As one looks upon this scene, they may notice a rather handsome couple swishing in and out amongst the happy throng…
He is nattily dressed in hound’s-tooth tweedy suit, gold fob and chain that crosses his waistcoat ending with a large gold pocket watch, a black bowler is perched on his head, and a long black umbrella held in the crouch of his arm . He is attentively escorting a rather fetchingly pretty lady, enticingly clad in a long violet dress of silk and lace, wearing a pretty necklace with matching earrings that glitters as she weaves in and out of the rough crowd. The the couple make their way carefully along the wooden planks of the dock’s sidewalks, peering cautiously into doors of the noisy pubs as they pass..
They stop outside the open doors of the Wailing Siren Pub and peer inquisitively inside. Just as they do, a rather thin chap with a perpetually smiling face, wearing old worn canvas trousers, a weather worn sailors blouse, and with a flat cap on his head comes upon them from behind. Long wisps of sun weathered sandy blonde hair fall in strings from the cap, some of them tied into a short pony tail. He is rather young, but the look in his keen brite blue eyes are those of a much older, perhaps even wiser man.
He stands behind the couple, patting them both on the back with a joyful cheerio.
As the both turn their heads in a rather annoyed fashion, he grins, better In than out Jack always says, and enthusiastically parts the two as he goes on inside.
The couple watch as the rather odd man calling himself Jack makes his way through the throng, acknowledging several people, but not receiving any recognition. He finally reaches a table with three men, all in severe cut suits, two built like the body guards they were, the third with a weasely face ,held pursed in a stern and unforgiving manner. Next to him stands a rather voluptuous lady, curvy in a long red satin number that flows down to her feet. From her ears, neck ,wrist and fingers sparkle a fine collection of emeralds set with diamonds, small but quite expensively real.
The couple at the doorway look at each other and silently a decision is made and they go inside and sit at a back table by a fireplace, where the beginnings of a large fire are in place, waiting to be lit once the cool chill of the evening fog rolls in.
Meanwhile the odd stranger has seated himself with the 3 men, and engages them in conversation. The lady in red, still standing, listens in, becoming quite interested in the charismatic newcomer and his many lively stories…
All the while Brute Burton works his station at the bar, serving up drinks as they are ordered, sliding them down the bar with expert precision.
Sadly, poor Brute is in a rather worse mood than usual this evening. Quite peeved that his favourite barmaid had up and quit the day before , having been sweet talked into taking a job at one of his competitors just down the street. This has been the topic of much conversation up and down the docks all day, so much so, that everyone pretty much knows to stay clear of the disgruntled bar keep, and Brute is quite happy with that. So, needless to say, what happens next came as quite a surprise to a lot of people, including Brute!
Brute had been eyeing a particular table all evening, it was made up of 4 men, and some tart in a red dress. The men, especially the thin one, one wearing an old discoloured flat cap, faded sailors dress, have grown more vocal, their tongues loosened by the pints of beer being consumed. And apparently, the attention Brute is giving them had not gone unnoticed, for they were quite obviously talking about Brute himself, judging by the way they had all been stealing looks his way.
This made Brute quite a bit more upset, and the men at the table apparently knew it, much to his chagrin. So it was with grinding teeth that Brute observed the thin man in the sailors rig rise and head up, a little wobbly, towards the bar, with his fellow table mates, including the dolled up tart, all watching with obviously keen interest.
The thin sailor sat down at the bar and called out cheerfully, hey barkeep, a shot of the devil’s own then. Brute poured a bit of rotgut in a shot glass, and intending to give the young sailor a piece of mind, walked ( rather than sliding ) it over to him.
Look ‘ere now, Brute said, I want no troubles from you mate , capisec lad?! he warned the grinning sailor in a stern tone. Then he gave the sailor a second, closer look over..
Wait a minute, Brute added, , didn’t I see you in ere last night?
Indeed you did my most observant sir, Indeed you did, and he offered a hand to shake, which was ignored by Brute. Unfazed, the sailor withdrew his hand and continued on; Jackie’s the name sir, and he nodded a hello to the burly , stern eyed barkeep. Came here on a lark last evening, enjoyed your fine establishment so much, decided to return. He looked into Brutes eyes, but the barkeep was having none of it, no scrawny excuse for a sailor was going to butter him up!
Jackie continued smiling and said, no worries my man, just here again in your fine establishment for a friendly drink. He slid a couple of coins to the barkeep who began to pick them up. Say barkeep, Jackie amiably asked Brute. Would you know be interested in winning few bucks from a betting sailor with nothin better to do with his money? What are you one about Brute asked, his hooded eyes holding back a fire waiting to ignite.
Just this Jackie continues on pleasantly cooing his words, 5 pounds say that I can lick me right eye.
Brute just looked at him for a full minute then said your on, but no shenanigans he added, go ahead and lick your right eye. With a smile, Jack popped out his right glass eye and licked it, before putting it back. The whole bar hushed, as Jack held out his hand, the bartender threw down a fiver, the look he was giving Jack would have sent most men running. The whole bar was now watching, quite a few standing for a better look at what was going on, waiting to see what was going to befall upon the mischief making sailor….
Jackie did not touch the fivers, instead he said, quite apologetically, I am so sorry chappie, That was actually quite rude of me I’ll admit, and after promising o shenanigans to boot. Tells you what dear sir, and he pulls a wad of notes from his pocket and lays down a total of twenty on top of his fiver.
Gives you a chance to make your money back, and profit Jackie said with a promise. Lets hear it than, Brute said, snarling so loudly that some of the Wailing Sireens patrons actually cringed, some even stepping backwards and tripping up against those behind them….
Ok Jackie again said in that sing song manner of his, this lot is yours( he pointed to the pile of notes) if I cannot bite my left eye!
Brute just looked at him for a minute, a long, quite cold minute. He finally spoke, choosing his words carefully, as he kept his temper in check…. I didn’t know about your fake eye me salty lad, but I sure en hell knows you aint blind. . Your on he says, and pulls out a wad of his own, slapping down a total of 20 hard earned notes on top of his fiver. Jackie gulps down the last of his rotgut, and smiles widely, playing the pubs hushed attention for all it was worth, then taking out his false teeth, he smartly bit his left eye.
You could have heard a pin drop on the wooden saw dusted floor of the place , it was now so quiet, then a murmuring started as everyone pushed forward a bit, knowing what would be happening next to the cunning sailor calling himself Jackie.
As For Jackie, he continued to smile as he adjusted his false teeth ( ivory) and then nonchalantly pulled a plug of tobacco from his pocket and biting off a wad, started to chew as he looked Brute dead in the eye. The piles of notes lay on the counter, untouched, seemingly unnoticed by either of the two , Brute or Jackie.
Brute finally broke the long silence, moving towards Jackie, his meaty fists griping the bar, as if he were trying to hold them back from strangling the living daylights out of the thin sailor looking all for the world like a cat that had gotten the canary.
Brutes words came, snarling from his lips, as he said in no uncertain terms. Yur crackers Laddie, and youns have just earned a one way ticket out of my pub, and if your lucky, only a few of your bones will be broken when you land! … as he spoked his right hand detached itself from the mahogany bar, and grabbed the sailor by his blouse, with the intention of lifting Jackie up and tossing him physically from the premises!
Jackie, totally unruffled by Brutes actions, laid a hand upon the Publicans wrist, and tsk’d Brute, who in surprise at the unperturbed demeanour of Jackie, actually let go of the sailors blouse and allowed his hand to be gently taken aside and placed upon the bar.
I know Jackie said complacently , as he chewed his tobacco, That was not a nice thing atoll for me to do, seeing how it is my honour to be here in your fine establishment, and me playing tricks on ye, not a nice ting atoll for a patron to do. Jackie smiled winningly up at the still bristling Brute. Tell ya what my fine friend, do you have a half- penny on you perchance?
Brute could not believe his ears, he was totally flabbergasted at this sailors actions, but still slightly more than mite curious, like the fabled lion listening to the mouse pleading his case, wondering why this git just did not seem to understand just whom he was toying with.
Finally Brute just said , yeah numbskull, why?
The whole bar was now absolutely focused on the goings on between Brute and the sailor Jackie, never before had anyone taunted the bartender with such nerve and still was be able to stand upright…
Jack just grinned for a few seconds before speaking. I truly do feel bad for playing me little jokes on you, its just me personality understand, and I am unable to control it after a few pints of the houses best you my dear most gracious sir…? . Brute started to say something, but Jackie cut in with, hear me out kind sir, and ye may find it worth your while for putting up with ol Jackie this evening!
Jackie picked up his empty shot glass, looking at it as he spoke. See this shot glass dear, most reasonable, sir, if you would,take it to the far end of your rather pretty polished bar and hold it up like you were cheering me.
I will bet your half penny against this pile of notes laying on your bar, that I can spit out this entire bit of tobacco I am chewing, and every bit of it will land dead centre inside that shot glass… If so much as a drop of it lands anywhere else, you then win the whole pot, every last pence….
Brute thought for a very long minute, trying to see all the angles, and finding none that could lose him the pot. In his mind he reasoned, how could anyone accomplish such a feat, especially a cocky drunken sailor with more mouth than sense?
Ta, your on lad he snarled, but I hold the money until after your bet. Agreed Jackie said, and pushed the notes up against the shot glass. Brute picked up both the glass and notes, walked to the far end of the bar, about 3 meters, and held the glass up against his spotless white apron.
The entire bar was still in a hush, and actually had become quite crowded now as word had spread across to some of the other drinking establishments, whose curious patrons had come over to witness the goings on…most hoping to be entertained with watching a rather thorough beating of a certain thin sailor..!
Jackie just grinned, ready he said, and taking a mouthful of air, spit out the wad of wet brown gooey tobacco. The unsavoury mess flew across the bar, hitting Brutus, the bar, the walls…everywhere but inside the shot glass.
Realizing that he had won the bet, Brute pocketed the notes, and started laughing, as he wiped the brown slime off himself, his apron, and the surface of his bar . The entire bar nervously erupted into laughter, poking themselves, and pointing towards the witless sailor and his odd games which had cost Jackie some fifty pounds!
Brute finished his cleaning, and still chuckling . looked over at Jackie, who was still sitting there, still smiling like had had not a care in the world. Puzzled Brute moved back to the sailor, and addressed him rather curtly.
Se here mate, what is it with you, your antics here have cost you a pretty penny, yet you sit there grinning like the whole world is your oyster.. what of it , are you just looney or daft , or both!?
Jackie just smiled, rising from his seat he looked up at the bar tender. Hopefully neither my most kind sir, hopefully neither!
Its like this, see that table back there, and he nodded towards the table that Jackie had left before approaching the bar. The tart had a silly grin on her face, but the three gentlemen sitting there were not smiling atoll, just wearing unbelieving frowns upon their hard mugs.
Brute looked back to Jackie, yeah I see them, what of it!?
Well me lad, and Jackie moved just a little further away, its like this… Those gentleman back there bet me a thousand pounds against me coming up here and spitting tobacco juice over yourself and fine bar, and have you clean the mess up yourself, laughing all the while… which is exactly what you just did…
Brute just stared at the smirking sailor, realizing that he had been played for a fool after all. Jackie was now out of reach, and so Brute just snarled at the impish sailor…
Pick up your winnings mate, and hightail your miserable carcass outta of here…. If I ever so much as see your shadow at me door, I will not be held responsible for my actions, he promised in no uncertain terms.
Jackie bowed with obeisance to the Bartender, then turns and walks up to the table.
Reaching it he winks at the girl, leans over the 3 gentlemen. Sorry chaps you heard the keep, I must sadly be one my way. From the table his picks up the pile of notes the gentlemen lost in the bet. Jackie moves off as the men start to protest, ignoring them, and smiling winningly at the lady in the red dress, who smiles back.
Jackie weaves his way through the still chattering crowd, ignoring them. And without looking back, leaves the Wailing Sireen.
Jackie quickly turns a corner and finally looks back. Once he is certain that no one follows, he darts down a side alleyway. After a series of turns up, down and doubling back more alleyways and darkened back paths he crosses a street and approaches another pub.
But instead of going inside, Jackie lights a small black irish pipe and waits a few minutes to get it going, casually looking around.
Then, turning on his heels, he makes his way to the back side of the pub and heads up a staircase leading to a small row of apartments for let. Going to one he raps a signal on the door with his knuckles. A matching rap is heard from inside, and Jack answers with a another signal. The door is unlocked . Turning the knob slowly, Jackie opens the door with caution, then, with a final look around, steps inside.
There were two of occupants in the room, standing on either side of a bed. The very couple that Jack had greeted at the doorway of the Wailing Sireen.
The chap in the hound’s-tooth suit had pulled from inside the sleeve of his umbrella a ling thin deadly sharp rapier, and was pointing it nastily towards the door, held up level with Jacks chest. The attractive lady in the violet gown was holding a diminutive 2 shot derringer , cocked, she had pulled from neath her left satin glove, it too was pointing at Jacks chest.
Ello put away yur ”greeters” mates, its only meself coming to visit ya after placing life and limb in peril .
I don’t know about your life being in peril luv, the lady in purple sneers pleasantly ,but I would’avetaken bets against your breaking a few limbs byth eway you were teasing the guv’ner who owns that bar. But should have known you would squeak it through, you put up a good job of it!
The man in tweed smiles, yes mate, you did the talk pretty well, as usual, and played it to your advantage… Our advantage mate, as it always is…
Speaking of advantage, how did we do? Jackie asked curiously, we had a good crowd this evening, he added.
They both smile as they put away their weapons.
Then both grasped the top sheet on the bed and wicked it off. Exposing a rather impressive collection of assorted wallets small pouches of coin,b oth gold and silver pocket watches, diamond pins, 3 necklaces, a handful of shimmering rings and a number of glittering ladies bracelets. Picked it clean while everyone was watching your antics, said Erebus, the man in the hound’s-tooth suit
Including this, said Teddi, the lady in violet, as she delved her hand inside her gowns satin sash, extracting and showing off a rather dazzling diamond and emerald bracelet. Jackie smiled, hoped you had spotted that one, blondes should know better than to wear emeralds, horrible choice with fair skin. They all were grinned widely at his point.
So, Erebus asked, how did you do with that group of the casino winners?
Parted them from a thousand of their winnings, less what I had used as to bait the bartender, Jackie said proudly. Always nice to end things a stay with a bang!
Erebus pulled up a heavy satchel from neath the bed, and opened it, more pretty things glittered from inside, along with assorted items that matched those laying on the bed.
It was their collective haul from the 3 nights they had been in town so far. Teddi came around and helped Erebus start to place the items on the bed inside the satchel.
Jackie stole a look outside, making sure the way was clear. Stepping back in he said Ok now lets finish packing it up and split ways. The train is leaving in an hour. Meet at the trains pub car for a drink at midnight Jack said, 3 strangers on a train! That is what we be
Jackie smiled, and at the next town we will divvy up this lot, and see about adding to it. They all nodded in eager agreement.
As Jackie continued to keep an eye outside the door, Erebus and Teddi began to quickly pack up operations.
Fini
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Thanks to one of my main protagonists, Eileen, who told the joke that made the gist of this story. She winningly carried out the tale one rather blustery night, inside by a cheery fire at the Poet and Peasant Pub, our own dockside hangout.
Thanks to CybeleMoon, Teddi Beres and Erebus Darkfold for the graciously allowing me the privilege to use their names to add a bit of their unique colour to my tale.
A simple diorama for Macro Monday's theme of April Fools Day silliness. A made up idea of, what would a tiny Sand Worm race look like?
So in honor of the vintage, Soviet era lenses used in the filming of Dune 2, I shot this image using a Helios 44-2, 58mm f2 @f16 with about 30mm of extension helicoids to shoot this macro. I used Siberian Iris seed pods as my sandworms. The pods are no more than 2.5 inches long.
The cinemaphotographer who shot this movie gave an interview recently where he explained that he only used vintage, rehoused, Soviet era lenses from Helios, Tair, Jupiter and Mir.
The inspiration for this silliness was shooting these dried out seed pods today and thinking that they looked like strange mouths opening up, and it hit me. I found what I was going to do for this Monday's theme. Up until that point, I wasn't going to do one for this week. I had no ideas, but sometimes you just need to go out and start shooting stuff.
My daughter, her boyfriend and my wife all helped me to make the riders.
📢Theme of the Month: April Fools🎨
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"If every fool wore a crown, we should all be kings."
Welsh Proverb
April Fools day quote
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www.flickr.com/groups/cybercanvas/discuss/72157721920540175/
The AI CyberCanvas Collective
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AI manipulated
YᑌᗰᗰY ? ?
A delicious lunch...or...? Happy April Fools :)
Coles Little Shop:
John West canned tuna
Daily Juice Orange Juice
Nutella
Vegemite
Mini Fake Grocery Items - definitely not delicious and definitely a good April Fool Prank.
"... April Fools!"
Stormtroopers 365 > Day 362/365
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My jockey alt's April Fool's Day - Easter kitty. He's adorable and with such a sweet face. And I love that he has the Tin Man body from the 2014 RFL kitty.
And Happy Me Again Monday where the theme is "Fake"
We're Here: No Dignity, No Shame.
TOTW: No Fooling
I survived my busy March and hope to find a little time to post more on flickr this month. Happy April!
My spaghetti-tree is flowering.
For anyone who doesn't know of the original BBC's April Fool's Day joke about spaghetti here is the Wikipedia link to the story:
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spaghetti-tree_hoax
The spaghetti is approximately 4x4 cm.
Better viewed large and thank you for your favourites. :O)
J'ai trouvé cette belle grappe de raisins sucrés et sans graine dans un marché et quelle a été ma surprise de voir un fruit pas comme les autres, plus gros et d'une autre couleur. #Macro #AprilFools #MacroMondays
Tea bags.
[Just a warning: What follows here is a satirical piece for the Macro Mondays theme April Fools. The attempt at humour is based on the caricature of the insular English as a linguistically arrogant (and ignorant) and xenophobic people.
I'm very aware, though, that humour often doesn't travel well over water. Please be assured the thoughts expressed are not those of the management!]
The British are a nation of tea drinkers.
As you’d also expect from the world’s fifth largest economy we are not afraid to lead the world in embracing the modern. And a prime example is the tea bag.
The main advantage of this life-changing invention is that you can so easily hang them out on the line to dry, ready for the next use. Gone are the days of scraping out tea strainers and spreading the contents on trays to dry in the sun (or, more likely, to be blown away).
Thus we preserve our life line of infusions - the more important in these days of diminishing Empire, when confounded upstart democracies threaten our supply chain!
Tea drying by any method, of course, creates a problem when faced with our climate. Constant drizzle, cold grey fog, damp chill winds, or even deluging downpours are certainly not good for drying the little bags.
But British ingenuity, like so often in history, is not to be underestimated.
We have designed little drying racks to stand the tea bags before the kitchen fires, or even (in lower establishments) the living-room hearths.
The better British households also have wooden frames attached to pulleys which can hoist the desiccating bags up to the room ceilings where the drier and warmer air pools.
I have heard, reliably too, that some of the very modern hovels are obliged to forego fires and instead have a curious thing called central heating that involves warming water in radiators.
I’m surprised it works. I think it’s mainly the lower classes that have them because they can’t afford the servants to make the fires.
But even here British inventiveness knows no bounds - you can get little racks to hang on the radiators to dry your tea bags. I kid you not - I have seen them advertised on Amazon!
So tea remains the drink of choice of the landed classes. I am trying to avoid mentioning the vile craze at the moment amongst the peasantry for that roasted bean thingy from Ethiopia.
I am certain this will never catch on and is just a passing fad - we are far too sensible as a nation.
I mean whatever good came out of South America? Just think of the ghastly tango!! Not to say anything about the slumba, rambo, and sizla or whatever they are: those corrupt orgiastic gyrations promoted as exercise by dodgy gyms. Proof, if any were needed, that exercise was a Bad Thing.
Ahah! The would-be geographer of the family has mentioned that Ethiopia isn’t in South America.
It matters not to the cut and thrust of my argument. My firm riposte was that as there are only two languages in the world, English and Foreign, that it is fair to conclude there are only two countries worthy of mention: Britain and Foreign. That Foreign is spread across several continents is immaterial to the point.
And, in any case, most areas of Foreign (all the good bits anyway) have been successfully invaded by our colonists. So that’s all well and good (as long as they pay their tea tax of course).
Sorry. I shouldn’t let it get me so wound up.
I am meandering off-piste. (Don’t you just love the way the British integrate so well with the world! The way they graciously include words of Foreign in the mother tongue… especially when they don’t really understand them (and, no, I’m not going to ask what off-piste really means in this forum).
This is an image of my tea bags.
I am, I admit, a particularly sophisticated tea drinker, having different types of tea to suit the changing hours of the day.
For Breakfast I have… er… English Breakfast (OK, so perhaps I’m not that sophisticated...), a strong tasty tea with plenty of backbone to get me going in the morning.
At Lunchtime I have a more refined, delicate tea: Earl Grey, a blend of light Indian teas and the rind from the bitter bergamot orange. This acts as a pick me up and keeps me going (mainly to the loo, it has to be said, though that may be a detail too far for this family-friendly group...).
Then at Teatime a bit of refinement with pure Ceylon: a delectable flavoursome tea with a beautiful orange colour. Delicious! (And more going...)
I label the pegs so I know which bag is which and prevent disasterous confusion of the types. The different colours help further in the dim light of dawn...
And if my viewer thought BLT stood for the ingredients of a sandwich, I am afraid you are a little behind the times. The cognoscenti (which I think means the finely perfumed classes) now have Sbam sandwiches (Streaky Bacon, mashed Avocado and Mayonnaise). Even the riff-raff of British society have always loved sbam sandwiches…
Thank you for taking the time to look. I hope you enjoy the image (though if you do it is probably a reasonable cause for concern…). Happy Macro Mondays :)
[Handheld in daylight (not the teabags, obviously). Brutally cropped to the size requirements of the group. I mean you wanted to see more, right? :) ]
This is how to make money with a New Jersey bull:
"Save the Bull S--- and Sell IT."
This advice appears on the back of a ticket for a raffle that supposedly took place on Monday, April 1st -- April Fools' Day -- in 1909. The first day of April in 1909, however, fell on a Thursday rather than a Monday.
Posted for the "Flickr Friday" theme of 3/31/2023: FOOL.
VIEWERSHIP: 14% of 1,445 views on 3/2/2023.
Bees Trained to Collect Gold Dust
In the Upper Congo past gold mining's legacy left a moonscape of large and small open pits. Some of these pits date to the turn of the previous century. These historical gold ore extractions were notably inefficient leaving behind small, but significant, amounts of gold dust hidden amidst vast acreages of mining spoil.
Enter the trained bees.
The Native Bee Laboratory, in a unique public / private partnership with the Gold Consortium, has trained bees to detect and retrieve the globular gold dust found in these former mines. As can be seen in this picture of a typical Golden Bee nest, these animals can be extremely effective little "gold diggers".
Future plans call for programming these bees to not only gather gold, but to perform the actual transmutation of in situ cupprous outcroppings into gold or near gold. Such opportunities, where no opportunities previously existed, allow micro-fabrication and bio-diversification within such small spaces that individual agents (e.g., paleofarmers and septuagenarians) could reap the rewards that opportunity vacuums were formerly devoid of.
BeeNews Release Date: April 1, 2017
This shot is one from the archives. It was taken about two years ago when I was in Ireland. This particular photo was taken on the ring of Kerry. It’s actually a repost from a while back. I decided to repost this photo now because I feel it was how it should have been done the first time, and since now I actually know how to put together panoramas ;-) The difference between this photo and the previous one is better stitching and an added bonus courtesy of photoshop :-) This is not an HDR,
Hope you all are having a good week thus far!
To see in Large: View On Black
***All Rights are Reserved. If you are interested in using any of my photos for any reason please contact me via email***
Not having enough time is a problem for the majority of people. Most of the time, it is just a difficult task to find a balance point between work and leisure. Too many things to do around my house and with my friends but so little time for me spare. However, never too busy to run to the flower shop.
landscape moon figure
reclines, light wave azure fools,
conifer mountain
©2012hjwizell
www.flickr.com/photos/bijoubaby/galleries/72157629607254538/
Des Graines de Pastèque se sont mises en groupe pour former un Poisson afin de suivre leur chef en blanc jusqu'au 1er Avril. On peut dire que c'est un Poisson d'Avril avant l'heure. Une blague quoi, a joke! #Macro #AprilFools #MacroMondays
LEGO Star Wars 75320 Porg Battle Pack
136 pieces
USA $14.99 / DE 14.99 / UK £12.99
Available to pre-order from May the Fourth (VIP early access only)
Build up your army of adorable avians to conquer the galaxy and enact vengeance on a certain hungry Wookiee!
Includes stud-shooting blasters for the fearsome and wholesome Porgs as well as the iconic Force Tree from the planet Ahch-To.
APRIL FOOLS!
♥♥♥ Explore April 1, 2019 ♥♥♥
[ENG] I do not know if it is a pig that has eaten many bananas, or a banana that has eaten many pigs. Funny April Fools Day!.
For "Macro Mondays" group, "April Fools" theme
[ESP] No sé si es un cerdo que ha comido muchos plátanos, o un plátano que ha comido muchos cerdos. ¡Feliz día de los Inocentes!.
Para el grupo "Macro Mondays", tema "Día de los Inocentes"
191672
Apr 1 2014
My Big Announcement
I told everyone on Facebook that I have a big announcement. Here it is.
For WH: April Fools
So this week for Macro Mondays theme 'April Fools' we've been tasked with photographing something goofy, silly, funny or humorously arranged like funny-faced bugs, fruit or veggies, silly little toys, or objects arranged to make a joke or pun.
Ladies & gentlemen, I give you:
The Peatles. 😐
Je propose pour ce 1er Avril une Mandarine givrée tout droit sortie du congélateur convertie en Fool's Burger avec du Peperoni Salami, du Gingembre, de la Salade, agrémentée d'une Moutarde au miel, #Macro #AprilFools #MacroMondays
511# [derolpxE]
!slooF lirpA yppaH
(: 97edompilF yb deripsnI
[Explored] #115
Happy April Fools!
Inspired by Flipmode79 :)
We were hit by almost a foot of fresh snow.
Oh well that's Vermont for ya.
(update 4/2/07)
APRIL FOOL !!!
www.flickr.com/photos/63348497@N00/443533125/
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