チュンリー Chun-Rī

 

Basado en el chino simplificado:春丽 tradicional: 春麗] Chūn-Lì) es un personaje ficticio de la saga Street Fighter de Capcom. Primero fue introducida en Street Fighter II: The World Warrior, apareciendo también como personaje en las siguientes sagas de la serie. Su nombre es mandarín (chun 春 "primavera", lì 丽 "bella","guapa").[1]

 

Es una estudiante de Wu-Shu/Kung-Fu, entrenada por su padre y por el maestro Gen desde que era muy pequeña, por lo que ha combinado algunos movimientos de Tai Chi en su técnica de Kung Fu. Es considerada como la primera gran heroína de los videojuegos.

 

Cuando Chun-Li era muy pequeña (aproximadamente 5 años), su padre, quien era agente de la Interpol, desapareció en una misión que le fue encomendada. Desesperada, pidió ayuda a uno de los amigos más íntimos de su padre, Gen, que le había enseñado algunos de sus movimientos, y le dijo que su padre estaba investigando una organización de reciente aparición llamada Shadowlaw (En otros juegos el nombre de la organización es escrito como Shadaloo).

 

Siguiendo sus indicaciones, siguió los pasos de su padre y se convirtió en una de las mejores agentes de Interpol, con el objetivo de averiguar qué sucedió con su padre y de ser posible encontrarlo, si aún estaba con vida. Además, empezaría una relación amistosa con los hermanos Yun y Yang, que en ese entonces, eran unos niños.

 

Gracias a su inteligencia y a los datos recolectados, Chun-Li llegó hasta el líder de aquella organización: M. Bison, un personaje que poseía un poder impresionante. Chun-Li lucha contra Bison preguntándole sobre el paradero de su padre. En esta pelea, Bison la derrotó fácilmente.

 

Humillada, vio como Bison se alejaba de ella, dejándola con vida y advirtiéndole que la próxima vez la mataría tan deprisa como mató a su padre. Cuando se recuperó, Chun-Li estaba deseando poder vengar a su padre. Así que regresó a los cuarteles de la Interpol y no tardó en ser la encargada del área de terrorismo.

 

Durante este periodo, Chun-Li conocerá a Ryu, quien la impresionó con sus habilidades en combate. Poco después, Charlie, un oficial del ejército de los EE. UU., llegó a ella con una misión personal para llegar a la base de Shadawloo y destruir a Bison, por lo que Chun-Li le ofreció su ayuda sin dudarlo. En cuanto llegaron a Brasil, Chun-Li se encargó de poner las cargas explosivas en la base mientras Charlie y su amigo Guile iban a destruir el Psycho Drive, aunque Guile en un principio se opuso a la idea, porque había sido engañado por un superior corrompido por Shadowloo.

 

La base de Bison fue destruida, y Bison con ella. Pero Charlie murió durante la operación. Entre los restos de la base, Chun-Li encontró a Cammy, una chica que había sido creada y controlada por Bison y que ahora, gracias a Chun-Li se integró a la fuerza especial MI6 y trabaja como agente. También encuentra a Ryu, Ken y otros a los cuales consigue llevar a un hospital para que se recuperen de sus heridas. Pero Bison consiguió revivir, gracias a sus científicos, que le otorgaron un nuevo cuerpo, ya que su alma se había posesionado del cuerpo de Rose de manera temporal.

 

A los 3 años después, a Chun-Li le llegó una invitación del propio Bison a presentarse al torneo de Street Fighter. Chun-Li llamó a Guile y se presentaron en el torneo, dondé se encontró nuevamente con Ryu. En el torneo, Chun-Li será la guerrera que consiguió llegar hasta Bison, un Bison que ya no era el que fue, sus poderes habían mermado bastante debido a la pérdida de su máquina de energía psíquica y además Chun-Li era mucho más poderosa que en su primer enfrentamiento. De esta manera Chun-Li derrota a Bison y gana el segundo torneo de Street Fighter. Aunque no mató a Bison para conseguirlo, su venganza estaba consumada y no veía la necesidad de matarlo, aunque aún intentaría llevarlo ante la justicia, pero cuando iba a hacerlo Akuma apareció de la nada, y con su Shun-Goku-Satsu acabó con Bison. Chun-Li estaba ahora en paz consigo misma. Visita la tumba de su padre, diciéndole que ya podía descansar en paz, su muerte había sido vengada.

 

Tras la derrota de M.Bison, Chun-Li se retira de la Interpol y algunos años después fundó una escuela que enseñaba a los más pequeños el noble arte del Tai Chi/Kung Fu, y adoptó a una pequeña niña. Un día, se entera que esta pequeña ha sido secuestrada, por lo que comienza a investigar su paradero y descubre que el culpable ha sido la organización «Illuminatiun» que dirige Gill, el nuevo personaje que convocó el tercer torneo de Street Fighter. Para encontrar a su hija, Chun-Li entra al torneo junto con Ryu, Ken y el alumno de este: Sean. Además de reencontrarse con Yun y Yang y conocer a Alex, Chun-Li logró llegar hasta la base de Gill donde se encontró con Urien, el cual tenía un interés especial en ella debido a su gran potencial como guerrera (como el que tuvo M. Bison con Ryu y Gill con Alex). Urien (quien llama a Chun-Li "Las piernas legendarias que destruyeron a "esa Organización" [M. Bison y su cartel Shadowloo]") le dice que ellos tienen a la niña que busca, pero que sólo si le brinda un combate entretenido se la devuelve. Chun-Li combate con Urien y logra derrotarlo. Éste quedando impresionado con sus poderes, le indica que la chica se encuentra en los calabozos de sus cuarteles, así que Chun-Li entra y rescata a la pequeña que buscaba y al recién derrotado Alex, pero al intentar sacarlos a todos, se topará con el mismísimo Gill (el cual sintió su "Ki" durante la pelea con Urien). La pelea es dura siendo Chun-Li vapuleada en el enfrentamiento, pero esta vez el resultado es diferente al de las peleas que anteriormente había tenido Gill, con Alex y Akuma, debido a que Chun-Li tiene toda su fuerza y Gill había gastado gran parte de la suya en la utilización de la Resurrection, aunque logró por instantes tener su nivel normal. El resultado final es la victoria de Chun-Li sobre Gill, aunque la chica queda bastante herida.

 

Después de salir de la base de Urien y Gill, continuará haciéndose cargo de la pequeña niña. 6 meses después Chun-Li reflexiona sobre su vida y la niña que salvó, y decide continuar con el dojo donde les seguirá enseñando a niños huérfanos el verdadero significado de las artes marciales, su belleza, su estilo de combate y a usarlo por la justicia.

 

Después de retirarse, Chun-Li sigue con su vida capturando a criminales menores. Guile la visita y le informa sobre la posible resurrección de Shadaloo por lo que Chun-li se enfunda su antiguo traje y reingresa en la Interpol, formando equipo con Guile y Cammy para derribar SIN y descubrir lo que realmente sucedió a M. Bison. En el camino, se encuentra con Abel, quien solicita su ayuda para encontrar alguna pista sobre su pasado que parece estar relacionado de alguna manera con la organización Shadaloo. Durante el torneo, que también busca Gen, que también está participando, para obtener más respuestas sobre la muerte de su padre. Así mismo también se enfrenta a C. Viper quien está interrumpiendo constantemente sus investigaciones a la que vence. Finalmente consigue infiltrarse en los cuarteles S.I.N. y llega a una de sus terminales, sin embargo no se da cuenta de la presencia de Vega (quien había robado importantes datos del ordenador), quedando atrapada en la sala cuando Vega activa un dispositivo autodestrucción que libera previamente un gas tóxico. Antes de caer inconsciente consigue contactar con Guile. Chun-li es protegida por Gen de los escombros, y es finalmente rescatada por Guile y Abel,llevando la información suficiente que necesitaba de SIN, poco después se encuentra con la nueva agente de SIN: Juri Han, con la cual tiene un primer encuentro en el que Juri sale vencedora, Chun-Li es llevada al hospital por Cammy y Guile. Mientras esta en recuperación sigue trabajando obteniendo mas datos de SIN (que al parecer Crimson Viper le proporciona en secreto). Tras recuperarse, Chun-Li vuelve a encontrarse con Juri, esta vez el resultado es contrario al primero, Chun-Li vence a su rival, pero no es capaz de llevarla a prisión (Juri se le escapa). Pese a ello se siente satisfecha y, al reunirse con Guile, Chun-Li dice que ha decidido continuar su vida como agente de la Interpol (final de Chun-Li en SSF IV), hasta aquí llega por el momento el argumento de SSF IV.

 

Kikouken: Al parecer una variante del Hadouken de Ryu y Ken, Chun-Li concentra una bola de energía en sus manos y la lanza. En la primera edición de Street Fighter II, ella no poseía esta ataque, hasta la edición del juego llamada Street Fighter II: Turbo Hyper Fighting es donde lo ejecuta.

 

Hyakuretsukyaku: Chun-Li comienza a dar varias patadas de manera rápida en el oponente.

 

Spinning Bird Kick: Chun-Li se pone de cabeza y comienza a dar patadas giratorias.

 

Tenshokyaku: Habilidad de Chun-Li en los juegos de la saga Street Fighter Alpha, Chun-Li comienza a dar patadas giratorias de manera ascendente.

 

Shenenshu: Patada giratoria usada en Street Fighter Alpha, consiste en dar una maroma china y golpear al oponente con el efecto de un hacha.

 

Kikou-shou: Un Kikouken de mayores dimensiones, Chun-Li concentra el poder en sus manos para hacer una bola de energía mayor, a diferencia del Shinku Hadouken de Ryu, la bola de energía en Chun-Li se queda fija en sus manos.

 

Senretsu kyaku: Chun-Li da múltiples patadas rápidas al oponente, en Capcom vs SNK 2 y en Street Fighter III Chun-Li con sus 2 piernas da las patadas rápidas y al último da una muy fuerte.

 

Hazan Tenshokyaku: Técnica especial solamente de la saga Street Fighter Alpha, Chun-Li da múltiples patadas giratorias de manera ascendente, en Street Fighter III:Third Strike, todavía utiliza este poder, aunque aparece con el nombre de Tensei Ranka.

 

Shichisei Senkuu-Kyaku : Técnica usada únicamente en Marvel vs. Capcom y Tatsunoko vs. Capcom, es el poder que más animación tiene, ya que después de que Chun-Li te patea, la pantalla flashea y varios símbolos chinos aparecen en el fondo. provoca un considerable daño, solo necesita un nivel de energía. En el videojuego Power Stone también de Capcom, un personaje llamado Wang-Tang tiene un ataque parecido a este.

 

Housenka : ténica que utiliza en Street Fighter IV que consiste en dar varias patadas al enemigo, luego da una patada alta elevando al enemigo , depués se dispone a hacer un spining bird kick pero cuando esta en posición lanza un kikoken al piso que la levanta y da patadas giratorias rematando al enemigo por los aires dando una patada final que manda al enemigo al los suelos.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

TITLE: Sheep Look Up

AUTHOR: John Brunner 1934-94

TYPE: paperback novel

PUBLISHER: Ballantine 23612

COVER PRICE: $ 1.65

ISBN: 0-345-23612-2

PAGES: 461

COPYRIGHT: 1972 by author

PUB DATE: November 1973

EDITION: 1st American pb edition; previous HB and English editions

COVER ARTIST: Irving Freeman and Mark Rubin

ISFDB: Yes verified not as primary

RATING:

NOTATION:

COMMENTS:

INDEX: 0220 - Sheep Look Up pb edition - 33 - JB - IB

 

CONTENTS:

  

QUOTE “Yew want to know what the reel horror is, hey? Wal, it”s this- it ain’t what thern fish devils haz done, but it’s what they’re a-goin’ to do! They’re a-bringin’ things up aout o’ whar they come from into the taown….ever hear tell of a shoggoth?” p73….. From The Shadow Out of Time by Howard P. Lovecraft

 

CULPABILITY: All images posted are from publications owned by RC/\Weazel. RC/\Weazel performed image scanning, editing and the compiling of bibliographic data.

ISFDB: Internet Speculative Fiction Data Base.

RATING: On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being great and 1 don’t read.

NO entry: indicates specific information not available from book.

 

elojeador.com

Here are some tutorials...

 

Aquest va ser un dels meus primers experiments amb el GIMP, i el primer en el que vaig fer servir textures.

 

Potser és massa tard, però m'agradaria mencionar un parell de galeries que podríem dir són les "culpables" que m'agafessin ganes de provar això de les textures.

 

ToniVC

Dani Morell

 

Gràcies!

 

-----

 

This was one of my first experiments with GIMP, and the first one in which I tried using textures.

 

Maybe it's too late, but I would like to mention a pair of streams that I could say are 'guilty' of inspiring me on using textures.

 

ToniVC

Dani Morell

 

Thanks!

 

See where this picture was taken. [?]

Full story online:

www.corkshipwrecks.net/ussmanleydd74.html

 

USS MANLEY DD74

(Caldwell Class, 1917)

 

The United States destroyer, USS Manley arrived in Queenstown (now Cobh) in the south of Ireland in December, 1917. Queenstown was the centre for anti-submarine forces, on the Western Approaches, under the command of Admiral Lewis Bayley, Commander in Chief , Coast of Ireland. The Manley soon commenced operations

 

Initially there was uncertainty as to the most effective use of destroyers. At first they were given patrol areas which they would scout, singly or in pairs. Any stray incoming merchantmen seen, were to be escorted to near their destinations. This was a most ineffective use of the force, as the chances of coming across, and destroying a lone submarine in the vastness of the Western Approaches was virtually nil.

 

By Summer 1917, under the urging of commanders such as Admiral Sims, Commander of US Naval Forces in Europe, the convoy system was initiated. Groups of merchantmen were escorted through the war zone by flanking destroyer screens. This had the dual effect of reducing the amount of targets for German u-boats, and allowing destroyers and sloops to attack the harassing submarines. The priorities of the destroyers were to:

 

Destroy Submarines.

 

Protect and escort Merchantmen.

 

Save the crews and passengers of torpedoed ships.

 

Anti-submarine patrols did continue also for the duration of the war, especially in the Irish Sea and close to the coast of France, where u-boats would try to sink merchantmen as the convoys dispersed. In 1918, any destroyer in the Irish Sea, which was not actively convoying, came under the orders of The Irish Sea Hunting Flotilla, under the command of Captain Gordon Campbell VC based in Holyhead, Wales. US destroyers were also used to patrol the west coast of Ireland to hunt suspected gun-running ships, for Irish Republicans.

 

The destroyers , initially, were ill-equipped to fight submerged submarines. When they arrived in Europe they were armed with guns and torpedoes. The only undersea weapons supplied were single hand-launched 50lb depth charges which were particularly ineffective. It was the later fitting of dual depth charge racks on the sterns of the ships, Thornycroft depth charge throwers, and Y shaped charge throwers that turned them into a dangerous force. These were capable of dropping and firing a continuous patterned barrage of 200lb, charges around a submarine's suspected position. Most of the retro-fitting of these armaments was done at Cammel Laird in Birkenhead, England.

 

On March 4th, 1918, Convoy HD 26, sailed from Dakar, West Africa, for the British Isles. The convoy consisted of 16 merchant ships, escorted by HMS Motagua (Captain L.L.Dundas RN), an Armed Merchant Cruiser. By the time the coast of England was near, the convoy had reduced to 10 ships plus the Motagua.

On the morning of the 19th of March, a mixed convoy escort of United States destroyers and British sloops approached the convoy. This escort consisted of USS Beale, USS Patterson,USS Terry, USS Manley, HMS Tamarisk, and HMS Bluebell.

The order was given to change course towards the Scillies, but before this could be complied with, the Manley (Commander Robert L.Berry USN) approached the Motagua.

 

She approached this vessel on the starboard side with the intention of throwing a heaving line to pass despatches. The Captain of the Motagua felt that the Manley was too close and signalled the Manley to gain distance. The Manley turned to starboard, but her stern connected with the stern of the Motagua.

 

One of the depth charges, held in a Thornycroft thrower on Manley was dislodged and exploded. This caused devastating damage to both ships, with the addition of a petrol fire on the Manley, caused by the piercing of gasoline drums on board. Further depth charges also exploded on the Manley, causing the after end of the ship to be totally destroyed.

The ships stopped and the convoy passed them. The aft guns on both ships were blown overboard. The Manley was completely unmanageable, but the Motagua was able to make way with difficulty, having lost her steering gear.

 

The sloop HMS Tamarisk made repeated efforts to tow Manley, but it was the tugs Cartmel and Blazer, that borught her to Queenstown on the 20th. The Motagua, flanked by HMS Bluebell. HMS Polyanthus joined escort until relieved by HMS Oriole. HMS Bluebell proceeded to Plymouth with wounded of USS Manley. Motagua made Plymouth the same day.

 

As was the custom, separate courts of enquiry were held , a Royal Navy one at Devonport and a US Navy one in Queenstown. In both the blame was laid at the Commander of USS Manley.

  

Casualties from USS Manley are brought ashore at Queenstown (Cobh) in Cork. Railway station in background

 

On the 18th of April 1918, a Court Martial was held on board USS Melville, in Queenstown. The finding of the court was that Commander Berry was found guilty of ‘Culpable Inefficiency in the Performance of Duty’.

 

Five members of the court, however recommended clemency on the grounds that small collisions of the nature of the one between the Motagua and Manley, were commonplace at this time. It was the cataclysm of the exploding depth charges, that turned an incident into a tragedy.

 

The court concurred, and Commander Berry was released from arrest and restored to duty.

 

Thirty three men were killed on USS Manley and 30 killed on the Motagua.

  

Lost on USS Manley

 

Brewer, Edward, Elias. GM2c USN

Burke, Richard, WT USN

Cohen, Louis, BM1c USN

Corcoran, Timothy, Francis Sea USN

Dreja, Nicholas, M. MM2c USN

Edds, William, W. F2c USN

Fleming, Allen, Jr. Sea USN

Hall, Cecil Sea USN

Hartman, George, Clyde E1c USN

Hartman, Lester, Orin. F1c USN

Herdman, Albert, Van Nulton. Cox USN

Holmes, John Charles. CM1c USN

Ishum, Elmer, Clarke F2c USN

Johnson, Albert, L. Oil USNRF

Jones, Julius,Robert. F2c USN

Klahre, Charles, Herbert MM1c USN

Kurdt, Martin, Charles CMM USN

Lobmeyer, Henry Frederick. MM2c USN

Lowder, John, David,Jr. F1c USN

Magoni, Charles WT USN

Malewitz, Joseph, W. F2c USN

Mann, Claude. Oil USN

McGowan, Michael, Francis, Bsmith1c USN

Miller, William,Harrison. Bmkr USN

Mitchell, Eugene,Davis. F1c USN

O’Donnell, John, Joseph. Sea2c USN

Ross, Albert, A. --- USNRF

Rozanski, Martin. Sea USN

Shaw, Lamorn. F1c USN

Sullivan, Edward, Vincent. Csmith1c USN

Ward, Charlie. F1c USN

Watson, Ralph, Carelton. Eng USN

Wood, William, Henry. GM3c USN

 

Injured

 

Cagle, Charley, W. F2c USN

Cardin, John, Leo. F1c USNRF

Cecil, Albert, Wallace F1c USNRF

Christie, Ralph, Horton Y1c USN

Dechenne, Clarence, Fred F2c USN

Dwight, Charles, Dudley, Sea FNR

Gallman, Richard, E. Sea2c USN

Gumm, John, Frank. F1c USN

Hanson, Frederick. Cox USN

Holzhauer, George, J. WT USN

Johnston, William, Adren. SC4c USN

Landwher,Edward, Chester. Lds.E.(R) USN

Lawson, Fred, R. Eng1c USN

Mercer, John,D. F2c USN

Morse, Kirk, W. CGM USN

Nelson, Earl, P. E3c(R) USNRF

Peters, Edward, Henry Sea FNR

Pierce, Charles Eng2c USN

Russell, Carl, C. Sea USN

Russell, Edward,F. Sea2c USN

Sinock, William, SC3c USN

Diggs, Isaac, Matt1c USN

  

Lost on HMS Motagua

 

Lee Wm, J. Gunner RN

Wood Charles, S. Acting Lieut RNR

E.Beaney, Ernest Private RMLI

Brown Francis S. Private RMLI

Carver Ed J. Private RMLI

Powell Albert Private RMLI

Wykes G. V. Private RMLI

Oram Bertie Private RMLI

Levett Percy E. Private RMLI

Wyatt Albert W. Private RMLI

Rowland Harold C. Sub Lieut RNVR

Harris Albert Armed Crew RN

Hands George Ord Seaman RNVR

McMillan John Private RMLI

Pearson Richard, R. PO, RN.

  

Mercantile Marine Ratings

Logan Robert Fireman

McMenamin John Greaser

Kerr Thomas Greaser

Raidy James Greaser

Turley Thomas Fireman

Gorman George Fireman

Nolan Edward Trimmer

Mc Cracken John J. Trimmer

Rowland Harold C. Sub-Lieutenant RNR

Hands George Ord Sea RNVR

Wilkin Clive Ord Sea RNVR

Wells Ernest Ord Sea RNVR

Jennings Frederick Ord Sea RNVR

Pollock Robert S. Greaser MMR

 

Injured

 

Richard Rogers W/Tel RNR

Arthur Swinglehurst W/Tel RNR

SHIPS COMPANY

Charles Hills PO CG

Alfred Purkis Carpenters mate Pens

Stephen A.Davis PO CG

John H. Slater PO Pens

Donald MacKenzie Ldg sea RFR

Henry Podesta AB RFR

John Stallard AB RFR

Thomas Budd AB RFR

Frederick Newland AB RNFR

Smith Dean Ord Sea RNVR

Frank Carter Private RFR, RMLI

Albert J.Field Bugler, RMLI

Alfred Monney Corporal RMLI

Frederick J. Honour Colr Sergt, RMLI

 

MM RATINGS

Ernest Bliss Chief Carpenter

Samuel Watkins Fireman

William Mansfield Dyman’s Mate

Robert J. Pollock Fireman

Thomas Gallagher Fireman

George Ross Fireman

Samuel Chalmers Fireman

William Mills Fireman

Willaim R. McNae Fireman

Patrick Coughlin Trimmer

J.H.Longworth Fireman

George V.Hunter Trimmer

E. Edwards Assistant Steward

Alfred W.Edwards Assistant Steward

 

Notes:

Commanding Officer, Commander R.L Berry

 

The US Naval History and Heritage Website has a comprehensive history of this ship, which can be found at

www.history.navy.mil/research/histories/ship-histories/da...

 

© Copyright 2002 -2014

corkshipwrecks.net

 

Info@corkshipwrecks.net

   

Hermosa creación,

flor de seda y algodón

me seduces en la brisa

y te amo tan deprisa

que me siento muy culpable,

me siento como el viento

que queriendo acariciarte

lastima con su aliento

tu cuerpo frágil, inquieto

y lo esparce por el cielo

creando blancos remolinos

que tiñen mi mundo imaginario,

en el que muero solitario

en cada atardecer

por no poder ternerte,

Diente de león.

 

Naces prisionera

de un tallo que te aferra,

creces bajo el Sol

imitando su color

y a la noche

desprecias a la Luna,

quien batalla eterna jura

por robarle la única estrella

que jamás podrá tener.

Vives de la tierra

tu nodriza y carcelera.

Ruegas al destino

que incline sobre ti

a algún amante

que te haga regalo de su amor.

Diente de león

 

Envejeces,

en tu celda de barrotes verdes.

Renuncias,

a tu rubia cabellera,

y son ahora canas grises

a quienes usas de corona.

Poco a poco te liberas.

¡Por fin llega el amante!

que en un suspiro murmura,

"Concédeme un deseo Diente de león"

...y tú, al fin, feliz te elevas

a reunirte con el Sol,

Diente de león.

 

La veritat és que aquesta és una de les fotos que més em va agradar del dia que vàrem anar a despedir el Catalan Talgo. Els dos últims dies que vaig anar a pel mític RD em va passar el mateix, el Catalan es quedava parat a Figueres per culpa de qui veieu a la foto, que amb el seu retard acumulat afectava a l'intercanviador d'ample de la frontera que era incapaç de deixar pas al Catalan i després donar pas a aquest. Així que aquí teniu la foto del culpable, el TrenHotel Zurich-Barcelona, passant a prop de La Valleta camí de Figueres, 5 minuts abans del pas del nostre amic desaparegut Catalan Talgo.

 

La verdad es que esta es una de las fotos que más me gustó del día que fuimos a despedir el Catalan Talgo. Los dos últimos días que fui a por el mítico RD me pasó lo mismo, el Catalan se quedaba parado en Figueres por culpa de quien veis en la foto, que con su retraso acumulado afectaba al intercanviador de ancho de la frontera que era incapaz de dar paso al Catalan y después entrar a éste. Así que aquí tenéis la foto del culpable, el TrenHotel Zurich-Barcelona, pasando cerca de La Valleta camino de Figueres, 5 minutos antes del paso de nuestro amigo desaparecido Catalan Talgo.

 

Editorial Acme (Buenos Aires) - 1960

Colección Rastros #336

Título original: The guilty bystander

N° 2 en la serie del corredor de apuestas Sam Dakkers

yo no elegí estar maldito

www.goear.com/listen.php?v=b9f4f3d

Postal Date: September 29, 1856, Coffee Creek, Indiana [letter dated September 28, 1856]

Scott Catalog Number of Postage Stamp: 11

Collection: Steven R. Shook

 

SENDER:

George H. Spooner

Coffee Creek, Indiana

 

RECIPIENT:

Mrs. Geo. H. Spooner

Petersham

Mass.

 

REMARK: The following is a transcription of a letter written by George Herbert Spooner on September 28, 1856, to his wife Mary M. (Thayer) Spooner in Petersham, Worcester County, Massachusetts, from Coffee Creek, Porter County, Indiana. The envelope in which this letter was contained can be viewed here.

 

Note that the letter refers to a railroad wreck that took place on the Lake Shore & Michigan Southern Railway during the evening of Saturday, September 27, 1856, very near the small village of Otis, LaPorte County, Indiana - the accident occurred just east of the LaPorte-Porter County line.

 

Coffee Creek Sept 28th 1856

 

Why have I not heard from you on this week. I fear for the ans. I have not had a letter from you dear one for an age it seems to me for I have looked anxiously for a letter. I have been down & suffered much since last Wednesday morning. I worked the Wednesday night & was taken with the billious fever & chill fever besides or something very like it. I was very sick through the night but I have gone to Bently & Will Bently made me stay all night & he gave me eight pills at one dose & then the next day some stuff called Wakefields Fever Specific & then at night I took some more pills & got better immediately only I was very weak from the effects of the pills. & Friday I was so weak that I could not sit up much of the day but the next morning I had a strong appetite & ate a good breakfast & about the middle of the fore I went to work but pretty weak. This was Saturday & I ate a big dinner & a bigger supper & felt as well as ever I did & got out to the door when some one said that there was a smash up on the R R a little way East. I looked over towards the R R & saw two of the men starting on a hand car for the scene of the disaster, two of us ran & headed them off & they [---?---] us to go down & four of us jumped on the hand car & went down there. There were two of the R R bosses & one hand & myself we proceed 8 miles & came to a scene of horror indeed. An engine & two carrs full of Irish laborers on the road & a long freight train of 40 carrs had run into each other & the carrs & engines were piled on top of one another & men and horses lay round dead & wounded & the cries of the wounded rang through the night air. I went through the car where the wounded were & there [were] 5 in there & one of them was dead with his head crushed. & the rest here died since some [of] them had there heads crushed & one had his head crushed & both legs broke & another had a hole through his back big enough to run my arm through. & I left that carr though that was not all of the horrors of that carr. I went down on the flats & there lay a man with his entrails turn out & lying on the ground dead & cold. I went to the other end of the train & there were several carrs of German Emigrants & many of them were injured but none killed. There was one man on his way to Chicago that got left by the passenger train & took the freight & was killed, though he lived til this morning (The accident was last night) he was from New York & was the only American killed. There are seven killed & two more that cannot live & great many wounded some [---?---] & some [---?---] that will not die. [---?---] [---?---] about 5½ in the afternoon & I started down there about 6½ & the night was very dark & [---?---] & the groans of the dying were awful. I took hold & helped carry off some of the wounded but the horrible sights that I had seen sickened me for a while but I got over it & then we went to work to get some of the goods out of the way & out of the ruins of the carrs that were piled up on the side of the embankment for the road was raised up about 15 or 20 feet above the surrounding land. We tore down the fence & thru the Road bosses & their men went to work rolling out bales & boxes of dry goods & they emptied several carrs & the fragments of the wreck [removed?] they burned [---?---] enough to keep a fire all night. There were 15 carrs crushed & broken to fragments & one new engine that that they were taking over the road that now lies down the bank with the wheels up. The other engines were crushed to fragments & Broken off the trucks. The carrs at the farther end of the train were not injured & many of the freight carrs were not. They were mostly loaded with horses & goods belonging to the emigrants. Six horses were killed. As I passed down the train I heard a horse kicking inside of a carr which was afterwards cut open & the horse leaped out & run down the bank & over the fence & off into the fields glad to escape. [---?---] scene of desolation I heard a dog whine & some one took a light & went & found the poor fellow alive & unhurt, but tied to a strop to a wagon wheel & [---?---] in the middle of the [---?---] par of it, the man cut the strop & away went the dog glad enough. About midnight I had seen enough horrors for one night & started back. It was all the way through the woods & not a horse or light between us and home but we did not mind that for we were some excited & yet thoughtful but silently we stept on the car & started home & as we bent to the handles of the machine that we propelled the car with each [---?---] with tremendous energy we swept along at an awful rate for a hand car. No one spoke, we could say nothing but [---?---] on through the woods & reached home in 20 minutes & it was 8 miles down there. I have been down there all the forenoon today & they had a larger gang of men [---?---] & now the track is all clear they have rolled the cars & fragments off on both sides of the track. I can wish no more of that [---?---]. But amid it all I thought of my Mary so you see how firmly you are bound to me darling. O how I longed to have you with me when I was sick, longed for your dear soft hand to put on my burning head though I had a kind & attentive nurse in young W. S. Bently who swore he’d cure me all up in a few days & sure enough he did. Says he you are safe here & shant let you go out if any [---?---] [---?---] you [---?---] getting well fast. He I a fine fellow at heart but like every body else west has western ways & habits which in the East we [---?---] make them call them a bad man because he swears & But he is good at heart. He is the one that helped me in [---?---] with Carrie [---?---].

 

I shall start for Minnesota in two weeks from tomorrow. I think I shall go to Winona a landing on the landing on the Miss[issippi] River in Minnesota.

 

I will write you more next Sunday if not before. Friday night I spent a shilling or 12 [?] one to hear one of those white negroes sing & dance.

 

Don’t be frightened about me darling for I am well & strong now & going to work if nothing happens tomorrow. O pet how I want to just touch my lips to your sweet [---?---].

 

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

 

George Herbert Spooner was born at Petersham, Worcester County, Massachusetts, on January 16, 1833, the son of Stevens Spooner and Mary Angela (Negus) Spooner. He married Mary M. Thayer at Worcester, Worcester County, Massachusetts, on January 16, 1854. Mary was the daughter of Ephraim Thayer and Adah M. (Mathewson) Thayer and was born November 17, 1836, at Hartford County, Connecticut. Prior to 1860 George and Mary had moved to Clifton, Iroquois County, Illinois.

 

Mary died in 1874 in Clifton and is buried in Clifton Cemetery. George perished in a tragic accident. On December 29, 1876, George was a passenger on Train No. 5 of the Lake Shore & Michigan Southern Railway, which originated in Buffalo, New York, with a Chicago destination.

 

The train consisted of the locomotive, two baggage cars, two day passenger coaches, two express coaches, a drawing room car, three sleeper cars, and a smoker car. As the train and its 160 passengers crossed the Ashtabula River in Ohio, the iron bridge spanning the river collapsed sending the entire train into the waters below.

 

Oil lanterns and coal-fired heating stoves soon ignited the wooden railcars and many of the passengers perished in the fire. Other victims drowned under debris. Approximately 90 people were killed in the disaster, including George Herbert Spooner, who perished in the car named City of Buffalo. One newspaper column concerning the disaster mentions that George was traveling to California. The wreck ranks as the third deadliest rail disaster in U.S. history. At the time of his death, George was a resident of Petersham, Massachusetts.

 

Note that a woman named Clara Thayer from Springfield, Hampden County, Massachusetts, was also killed in the Ashtabula disaster. Clara may have been related to George's wife, Mary.

 

The University of Michigan's Clements Library maintains an archive referred to as the George and Mary Spooner Family Collection (1842-1882).

 

Two Coffee Creek post offices existed in Porter County and this letter was posted from the second post office. The first post office operated from Jesse Morgan's inn located along the south side of present day Porter Avenue in Chesterton, slightly east of Dickinson Road. It existed between 1835 and 1849, and when discontinued the mail was routed to the Calumet post office located at New City West (now referred to as the Tremont area northeast of Chesterton).

 

The second Coffee Creek post office operated from 1850 to 1870 and was located near the downtown area of present day Chesterton, Indiana. The community was renamed Chesterton on January 24, 1870.

 

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

 

The following is a transcription of a newspaper article specifically referring to this railroad wreck published September 30, 1856, in The Belvidere Standard:

 

SHOCKING RAILROAD CALAMITY.

EIGHT MEN KILLED.

TWENTY TO THIRTY WOUNDED.

TWENTY-FIVE CARS DEMOLISHED.

Culpability of the Engineer.

 

A frightful collision occurred on the Michigan Southern Railroad, Saturday evening, near the New Albany and Salem Railroad crossing, about eight miles from this side of Laporte, between a freight train and a construction train, by which eight men were killed outright and twenty to thirty badly wounded.

 

The facts as far as known are, that the construction train consisted of an engine and two caboose cars filled with laborers. It was about half-past six o'clock, and the engineer wished to reach Laporte as soon as possible. Hearing in some way that the freight train then due was behind time, he resolved to run for Laporte. The freight train was on time, however, and a terrific collision occurred, as the construction train was running at great speed.

 

The engineer and fireman of both trains jumped and escaped uninjured. The engineer of the construction trains, who was entirely to blame, fled to the woods and has not bee seen since. The two locomotives were smashed to fragments; the tender on the construction train was driven back thro' both the cars filled with laborers, making frightful havoc with human life. Eight men were killed on the spot and from twenty to thirty dreadfully mangled.

 

Twenty cars on the freight train were broken to pieces and three new locomotives in the train destined for the Rock Island road were demolished, which such force did the two came together. The wounded were conveyed to Laporte as soon as relief could reach them, but we are unable to gain further particulars at this time.

 

Sources:

The Belvidere Standard, Belvidere, Boone County, Illinois; September 30, 1856; Volume 5, Number 24, Page 2, Column 3. Column titled "Shocking Railroad Calamity."

 

The Chicago Daily Tribune, Chicago, Cook County, Illinois; January 6, 1877; Volume 31, Page 2, Column 6. Column titled "Ashtabula. The Bodies of Several Additional Victims Identified."

 

Chicago Tribune, Chicago, Cook County, Illinois; February 13, 1904; Volume 63, Number 38, Page 4, Column 6. Column titled “Obituary. Lyman A. White.”

 

National Republican, Washington, D.C.; January 4, 1877; Volume 17, Number 32, Page 2, Column 5. Column titled "And Still Another."

 

Rutland Herald, Rutland, Rutland County, Vermont; January 5, 1877; Volume 16, Number 157, Page 3, Column 6. Column titled "The Ashtabula Disaster."

 

Copyright 2021. Some rights reserved. The associated text may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Steven R. Shook.

Bain News Service,, publisher.

 

G.O.P. Mascot

 

[between ca. 1915 and ca. 1920]

 

1 negative : glass ; 5 x 7 in. or smaller.

 

Notes:

Title from unverified data provided by the Bain News Service on the negatives or caption cards.

Forms part of: George Grantham Bain Collection (Library of Congress).

 

Format: Glass negatives.

 

Rights Info: No known restrictions on publication.

 

Repository: Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D.C. 20540 USA, hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.print

 

General information about the Bain Collection is available at hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.ggbain

 

Higher resolution image is available (Persistent URL): hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/ggbain.21938

 

Call Number: LC-B2- 3879-11

  

es.youtube.com/watch?v=S-Cazygeuf0

Interprete:Carlos Gardel

 

Tu vieja ventana

Música: Guillermo Barbieri

Letra: Ambrosio Río

(vals)

 

He traído del campo estas flores que ayer

arrancaron mis manos con gran frenesí.

Porque quiero tenerte contenta, mujer,

y mostrarte que yo moriría por ti.

 

Si una intérprete fueras entonces,

sentirías igual que yo siento

un amor tan extraño y tan dulce

que al no realizarse sería un infierno.

 

Asomá tu carita y no me hagas sufrir,

te lo pido por lo que más quieras, mi amor,

que al no verte sería capaz de morir,

de cariño, quizá, o de extraño dolor.

 

Los culpables han sido tus ojos

y tus labios tus cómplices fueron,

que me tienen igual que a un esclavo

y soy, si se quiere, tu fiel prisionero.

  

Si ella es la culpable de que la gran mayoría de los días despierte con el corazón en la mano, por que salta sobre el techo de mi habitación, y me despierto de un salto.

 

If she is to blame for the vast majority of days awake with heart in hand, by jumping on the roof of my room, and I wake up with a start.

Sketches from the courtroom of the first trial of the Baltimore police officers accused of being culpable in the death of Freddie Gray. www.washingtonpost.com/news/drawing-dc-together/

brescia doesn't forget

 

commemoration for the 39th anniversary of piazza loggia bombing.

 

piazza loggia is a beautiful square in brescia downtown.

on the 28th of may 1974 an antifascist demonstration was held there. during the meeting, a bomb exploded, killing 8 people and injurying more than 100 people.

the perpetrators of this act have not been convicted yet.

we don't forget and we don't forgive. we're still claiming for justice.

  

brescia no olvida

  

manifestaciòn para el 39mo aniversario de la masacre de plaza de la loggia.

 

plaza de la loggia es una hermosa plaza en el casco antiguo de brescia.

el 28 de mayo de 1974 hubo una manifestaciòn antifasciasta. durante la reuniòn una bomba explotò; murieron 8 personas, y màs de 100 resultaron heridas.

los culpables de este hecho todavìa no han sido condenados.

nosotros ni olvidamos ni perdonamos: aùn seguimos exigiendo justicia.

  

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piazza_della_Loggia_bombing

  

non lo scrivo in italiano perché chi parla la mia lingua conosce piazza loggia. o non è un mio compatriota.

"Robando flores a la luz de la luna pido perdón a diestra y siniestra pero no me declaro culpable." / "Stealing flowers to moonlight apologize right and left but I do not plead guilty."

 

Nicanor Parra.

Predatory Capitalism results when companies profit-making policies go unchecked by government regulations that serve to protect citizens from harmful money-making strategies. The lending practices that led to the economic crisis in 2008 is an example of Predatory Capitalism.

 

Why isn't the anger of laizzez-faire Tea Party members and other "hands-off" conservatives aimed at these corporations instead of just the government? Why is their culpability being dismissed and ignored? And, most importantly, if we can't count on the government to protect its citizens from these practices, who can we count on?

 

This poster focuses on one element of this issue, advocating for individuals to take responsibility for protecting themselves and their families from fiscal policies that may be dangerous to their own well-being.

 

See all the posters from The Chamomile Tea Party! Digital high res downloads are free here. Other options are available. And join our Facebook group.

Fotografía: autor desconocido. / Wikimedia Commons.

 

Margaretha Geertruida Zelle (Leeuwarden, Países Bajos; 7 de agosto de 1876-Vincennes, cerca de París, Francia; 15 de octubre de 1917), más conocida como Mata Hari (de matahari, que en idioma malayo significa ‘Sol’, literalmente ‘ojo del día’), fue una famosa bailarina, cortesana y espía neerlandesa.

 

Con sus danzas brahmánicas y orientales triunfó en Europa. Durante la Primera Guerra Mundial, realizó labores de espionaje a favor de Alemania, por lo que fue detenida por las fuerzas francesas, declarada culpable de espionaje, traición y condenada a muerte.

 

Fue ejecutada por un pelotón de fusilamiento de 12 soldados franceses justo antes del amanecer del 15 de octubre de 1917 en la Fortaleza de Vincennes. Tenía 41 años. Según un relato del testigo presencial el periodista británico Henry Wales, Mata Hari rechazó llevar la venda en los ojos y de ser atada al poste. En un último gesto, lanzó un beso al pelotón de fusilamiento.

 

Wales registró su muerte, diciendo que después de que la ráfaga de disparos sonó, "lenta, inerte, se acomodó de rodillas, con la cabeza siempre en alto, y sin el menor cambio de expresión en su rostro. Por una fracción de segundo pareció tambalearse allí, de rodillas, mirando directamente a los que le habían quitado la vida. Luego cayó hacia atrás, doblando la cintura, con las piernas dobladas debajo de ella". Un suboficial se acercó a su cuerpo, sacó su revólver y le disparó en la cabeza para asegurarse de que estaba muerta.

 

Margaretha Geertruida Zelle (Leeuwarden, Netherlands; August 7, 1876-Vincennes, near Paris, France; October 15, 1917), better known as Mata Hari (from matahari, which means "sun" in Malay, literally "eye of the day"), was a famous Dutch dancer, courtesan, and spy.

 

She triumphed in Europe with her Brahmanic and Oriental dances. During World War I, she spied for Germany and was arrested by French forces, convicted of espionage and treason, and sentenced to death.

 

She was executed by a firing squad of 12 French soldiers in the fortress of Vincennes just before dawn on October 15, 1917. She was 41 years old. According to an eyewitness account by British journalist Henry Wales, Mata Hari refused to be blindfolded and tied to the post. In a final gesture, she blew a kiss to the firing squad.

 

Wales recorded her death, saying that after the volley of shots rang out, "slowly, inertly, she sank to her knees, her head always held high, and without the slightest change of expression on her face. For a fraction of a second she seemed to stagger there, on her knees, looking directly at those who had taken her life. Then she fell backward, bent at the waist, her legs folded under her. A sergeant approached her body, drew his revolver and shot her in the head to make sure she was dead.

 

© Restauración y coloreado: Jaime Gea Ortigas.

On the morning of 8 September 1923, Destroyer Squadron 11 cleared San Francisco on a high-speed run to San Diego. That evening, as the column of fourteen destroyers closed the entrance to the Santa Barbara Channel in a heavy following sea, flagship Delphy led the formation in a premature course change to port. Minutes later, after entering a fog bank that concealed the coast, she stranded at 20 knots on rocky Point Pedernales (locally known as “Honda,” about two miles north of Point Arguello on the grounds of today’s Vandenberg Air Force Base). She was followed in close order by S. P. Lee, Young, Woodbury, Nicholas, Fuller and Chauncey; Farragut, Somers and Kennedy also touched bottom before backing clear.

Lockwood and Adamson, Tragedy at Honda.

Three shipmates died in the loss of Delphy; twenty in Young, which rolled to starboard before she could be abandoned. Others came ashore that night or the following day, when they were treated by doctors from nearby Lompoc and taken out by the Southern Pacific Railroad, whose tracks ran along the coast at the site.

Destroyer Squadron 11

8 September 1923

USS Delphy (DD 261),* flag

Destroyer Division 33

USS S. P. Lee (DD 310),* flag

USS Young (DD 312)*

USS Woodbury (DD 309)*

USS Nicholas (DD 311)*

Destroyer Division 31

USS Farragut (DD 300),** flag

USS Fuller (DD 297)*

USS Percival (DD 298)

USS Somers (DD 301)**

USS Chauncey (DD 296)*

Destroyer Division 32

USS Kennedy (DD 306),** flag

USS Paul Hamilton (DD 307)

 

USS Thompson (DD 305)

Over the next days, wave action began breaking up the stranded ships, all of which were stricken from the Navy List on 20 November.

At a General Court Martial convened on 1 November, Squadron Commander Captain Edward H. Watson and Delphy’s CO LCdr. Donald T. Hunter were found guilty of culpable inefficiency and negligence. Nicholas’s LCdr. Roesch, was also found guilty of negligence but the verdict against him was later set aside.

Twenty-three officers and men were recommended for citations by a Board of Inquiry. Many more were recommended by Rear Admiral S. E. W. Kittelle, ComDesRons, and while the court martial verdict cost Captain Watson any chance of future promotion, his energetic leadership of rescue operations, acceptance of command responsibility and display of personal character became widely known and admired in and outside the Navy.

In 1925, the US Lighthouse Service established a radio beacon at Point Arguello and increased the candlepower of the light there to 900,000 (later 1.3 million).

Visit the Point Honda Memorial web site for a timeline, analysis and historical research, including discussion of an earthquake off Japan a week before the disaster and the possibility of unusual currents near Point Honda.

Today, web mapping applications identify the site as “destroyer rock” and although its cliffs are off limits due to erosion from the surf, there is a memorial above that once held an anchor recovered from Chauncey and still includes a pair of weathered plaques. Below lie some of Chauncey’s remains.

Easier to find is Delphy’s mangled starboard screw, which in 1983 was placed on display outside the Veterans Memorial Building in Lompoc.

 

Sketches from the courtroom of the first trial of the Baltimore police officers accused of being culpable in the death of Freddie Gray. www.washingtonpost.com/news/drawing-dc-together/

Colonia Hogar Ricardo Gutierrez

 

En Historias de Irregularidades y abandono, la autora Diana Rossi hace referencia a cómo surgió la modalidad de las Colonias como lugar para chicos judicializados. Con la ley 10.903, por primera vez se incorporaba el concepto de “protección integral del menor”. En su momento, el entonces senador J.A. Roca, único que interviniera en la sesión de la Cámara de Senadores que trató la ley, resaltaba el objeto perseguido por el Proyecto Agote (luego ley 10.903): “corregir los males que dimanan de la infancia, y de la infancia criminal, en todo el territorio de la Nación y, especialmente, en el de la Capital Federal.” Algunos hechos puntuales –la huelga de inquilinos de 1907 y los sucesos de 1919 en la fábrica de Pedro Vasena– favorecieron el tratamiento y aprobación de su proyecto legislativo. Por aquella época, los defensores de menores estaban encargados del destino de los niños y niñas calificados de vagos o delincuentes. La cárcel compartida con los adultos era el derrotero habitual, hasta que se les encontraba colocación en alguna familia. “En 1897 fueron colocadas por órdenes judiciales 767 jóvenes mujeres junto a criminales considerados culpables”, detalla la autora.

Las colonias-escuelas y las colonias-reformatorios ubicadas cerca de las ciudades o en pleno campo serán el tipo preferido de estas casas de prevención y reforma de los menores.

La colonia Marcos Paz, que devendrá a posteriori instituto “Gutiérrez”, resume en sus características las del modelo previsto en la legislación. Si bien ya existían los institutos correccionales cuando se creó en 1904, se adoptó para él el modelo de colonia agrícola tan difundido durante el siglo anterior en Estados Unidos.

El predio en el que se situó la Colonia había pertenecido al general Francisco Bosch, cuya viuda, Laura Sáenz Valiente, vendió al ministerio de Menores. El decreto que aprueba la compra en noviembre de 1903 dispone en su art. 1º: “que la propiedad de que se trata reúne las condiciones necesarias para implantar en ella un instituto destinado a la instrucción práctica de la ganadería, agricultura y de la industria, en el cual puedan instruirse los menores que por falta de padre y de hogar o por sus malas inclinaciones necesitan de la protección del Gobierno o de una dirección especial que les inculque hábitos de trabajo y corrija su deficiencia…”

 

Extracto de la Revista "Furias"

 

TRASLATOR

 

Colonia Hogar Ricardo Gutierrez

 

In Histories of Irregularities and abandonment, the author Diana Rossi makes reference to how the modality of the Colonies arose as a place for judicialized children. With Law 10,903, the concept of "integral protection of the minor" was incorporated for the first time. At the time, the then senator J.A. Roca, the only one to intervene in the session of the Senate that dealt with the law, highlighted the object pursued by the Agote Project (later law 10,903): "correct the evils that arise from childhood, and from criminal childhood, in all the territory of the Nation and, especially, that of the Federal Capital. "Some specific events - the strike of tenants of 1907 and the events of 1919 in the factory of Pedro Vasena - favored the treatment and approval of their legislative project. At that time, the defenders of minors were in charge of the destiny of the boys and girls described as lazy or delinquent. The jail shared with the adults was the usual course, until they were placed in a family. "In 1897, 767 young women were placed by judicial orders together with criminals considered guilty," says the author.

The colonies-schools and the colonies-reformatories located near the cities or in the countryside will be the preferred type of these houses of prevention and reform of minors.

The Marcos Paz colony, which will become a posteriori "Gutiérrez" institute, summarizes in its characteristics those of the model foreseen in the legislation. Although the correctional institutes already existed when it was created in 1904, the model of agricultural colony so widespread during the previous century in the United States was adopted for him.

The estate in which the Colony was located belonged to General Francisco Bosch, whose widow, Laura Saenz Valiente, sold to the Ministry of Minors. The decree approving the purchase in November 1903 provides in its art. 1º: "that the property in question meets the necessary conditions to establish in it an institute for the practical instruction of livestock, agriculture and industry, in which minors can be instructed because of lack of father and home or because of their bad inclinations they need the protection of the Government or of a special direction that inculcates work habits and corrects their deficiency ... "

Sketches from the courtroom of the first trial of the Baltimore police officers accused of being culpable in the death of Freddie Gray. www.washingtonpost.com/news/drawing-dc-together/

Americans remain convinced of Washington’s culpability in the economic crisis from which the country is still struggling to recover, according to a pair of new polls. The ongoing “Occupy” protests notwithstanding, Americans are more likely to blame the federal government than the financial sector for the country’s economic woes.

According to a poll conducted by The Hill, 56 percent of likely voters believe Washington is “more to blame” for the economic crisis. Only 33 percent said Wall Street shoulders most of the culpability.

That poll phrased the question as an either-or – is Washington more to blame, or Wall Street? But another poll released Monday shows that even given the opportunbity to lay blame on both institutions, Americans are more likely to blame Washington than Wall Street.......http://blog.heritage.org/2011/10/17/americans-blame-economic-woes-on-washington-before-wall-street/

Niña de Verde

 

Pues que el primer fin de semana del año, y ya la primera salida de Jessica a bailar.

 

Que como, pues que este fin de semana asi muy lejos no podia viajar puesto que como los dos fines de semana habia ido a casa de la familia, para las fechas de festejo navideño-año-nuevo. Pues tenia que estar aqui en la isla o cerca.

Entonces mi amiga Karitina de Villahermosa que me dice, "Jessica, haber cuando vienes de nuevo por aca para salir a la disco", y yo pues claro que ni lo pense dos veces, y pues ahi hice mi plan para ir por alla.

Ya fui por alla a Villahermosa, que se ve ya se esta recuperando de la inundacion que hubo hace poco.

Por la nochecita me fui a su casa y me cambie ahi. Elegi ser la niña de color verde.

De ahi, a pedir taxi pues esta vez no lleve coche, y a bailar, y pues buena noche divertida.

Ahi bailando me paso algo, que estaba yo ahi muy feliz, cuando de repente, que siento una mano sobre una de mis pompitas, y dicha mano entonces que se cierra apretando. Rapidamente entre que voltee y que movi el brazo, pero pues para cuando, el culpable ya habia retirado la mano y ni como saber quien fue. Si que coraje, osea como que andan agarrando sin permiso.

El resto de la noche paso sin mayor problema, bailar un rato mas, luego sentarnos un rato a platicar.

Al regreso mi amiga me dijo "esperamos taxi o caminamos, al fin son poquitas cuadras" y pues ahi nos hechamos la caminadita hasta su casa.

Y asi, a cambiarse de regreso, irse al hotel y descansar para el viaje de regreso al dia siguiente.

 

Bueno, asi fue la primera salida del 2008.

 

Kisses

Jessica

 

Girl in green

 

The first weekend of the year, and Jessica is already out dancing.

 

What you say, well this weekend was to be staying here on the island actually or not travel to far, since the previous two I had gone far to family house for the x,as-year-end festivities. So I was to be on the island or around.

Then mi friend Karitina from Villahermosa tells me "Hey Jessica, when are you coming here again to go dancing", and me thinks quickly, lets do plan to go there this saturday.

So I went to Villahermosa, that looks like is really coming back well after the flood a few months ago. Good to see that.

By night I arrived at my friend house, changed outfits there, I choose to go that night as the girl in all green.

From there, call a cab since this time i didn't took the car, and to dance, a fun night dancing.

While dancing something happened, I was there all happy dancing, when I felt a hand in my behind, and then tha hand proceed to squeeze my buttock. I quickly tried to look back while moving my hand towards the area, but by the moment I was looking the culprit had already moved his hand away, and none of the many people over there looked suspicious. Angry feelings, for how someone dares to do something like that without my permission.

Rest of the night went on good, dance, then sit down and chat a bit.

On the way back, my friend told me "do we wait for a taxi, or do we walk, its only a few blocks", and so we went back by walking.

To change back, ride to hotel, and to sleep trying to rest for the travel back the next day.

 

And so it was the first dance out of 2008.

 

Kisses

Jessica

117/365

Soy vulnerable a tu lado más amable

soy carcelero de tu lado más grosero

soy el soldado de tu lado más malvado

y el arquitecto de tus lados incorrectos.

 

Soy propietario de tu lado más caliente

soy dirigente de tu parte más urgente

soy artesano de tu lado más humano

y el comandante de tu parte de adelante.

 

Soy inocente de tu lado más culpable

pero el culpable de tu lado más caliente

soy el custodio de tus ráfagas de odio

y el comandante de tu parte de adelante.

 

la penultima del 2014 / Puerto Ordaz

  

A very poor loser

 

Come November

He will be

Of course

A very poor loser

A very bad sport

A big baby

Claiming foul

Voter fraud

And theft

Throwing tantrum

After tantrum

Whining

“They cheated!”

Whinging

“It’s rigged!”

And tossing his small hands in the air

He will look for sympathy

Play the victim

And make excuses

 

“It isn’t fair!”

He will protest

Filing lawsuits

Calling out the Marines

The Navy

The Air Force

And the Coast Guard

To save him from drowning

He will drag his heels

Cling to the Oval Office

Crying out hysterically

“They stole the election!”

Asking for recounts

A second chance

And a reprieve

Flailing about

Impotently

Alone in the big White House

With Melania long gone

Until finally

Wednesday

January 20th

2021

Comes

And he goes

Out the door

Fired

Exiled

Shamed

And culpable

 

© Jamie McKenzie, all rights reserved

You will find more of my poems and songs here

and in The Storm in Its Passing and Flights of Fancy.

 

My songs are at

www.youtube.com/user/edtech2008/videos

 

Otro blend

de Belinda taan decente xD

pues me encaanta la cancion

desde que escuche el preview y eso xd

 

queria que fuera "plateado" despues del aanterior

doraado de McDonna

 

saludos :=)

 

aah

se me olvido hacer lo de la

ruletaa :s

la hare paraa la proxima :D

Horus ♥

 

Mi primogénito ♥

El culpable de mi locura gatuna ♥

Mi maestro gatuno ♥

Mi niño pequeño ♥

Mi explorador aventurero ♥

Mi debilidad ♥

Mi amor ♥

Mi Horus ♥

 

Don't buy, ADOPT ♥

No compres, ADOPTA ♥

No es tracta de ser o no culpable. Un arbre no provoca una tempesta, però qualsevol idiota sap on caurà el llamp.

...de que esta movida se este llevando a cabo y ya por tercera vez.

Biblioteca Can Peixauet, Santa Coloma de Gramenet.

El Factor Humano.

HMS Invincible was a 168 ft. 6 in. (51.36 m) long, 46 ft. 11 in (14.30 m) beam, 1,631 tons, 74-gun, Ramilles Class third-rate ship, 36 years old in the spring of 1801 and battle wearied. Built by Wells of Deptford, south-east London she was launched on 9th. March 1765.

Invincible had served in the American War of Independence. Her battle honours included Cape St. Vincent 1780, Chesapeake 1781, St. Kitts 1782 and the Glorious First of June in 1794, where she was badly damaged and lost fourteen men. In 1797 she took part in the invasion of Trinidad which captured that island from the Spanish. By 1801, Invincible was back in British waters.

By March of that year, and with the war against France in a protracted state, the fear was that the French would seize the powerful Danish navy and use it against Britain. Therefore, the British Baltic fleet, led by Admiral Sir Hyde Parker and with Admiral Nelson as his second-in-command, were directed to sail to Copenhagen and make sure the Danish fleet could not fall into French hands. Invincible was to be part of this fleet so she was ordered to sail from Chatham, Kent with its crew of around 600 men and meet up with Hyde Parker's fleet which was already preparing for the planned attack on the Danish fleet, to be known later as the Battle of Copenhagen. Invincible sailed on its journey under the flag of Rear-Admiral Thomas Totty.

During its way north, Invincible under the command of 34 year old Captain John Rennie, put into Great Yarmouth to collect final orders and stock up with ordnance, stores and ammunition. Invincible left Yarmouth Roads on 16th. March with a Ship's Master and Harbour Pilot aboard and set a course towards the notorious area of shifting sandbanks off Happisburgh on the north-east coast of Norfolk.

The Master and Pilot clearly thought that they could navigate Invincible through the shoals safely, but a rising wind and the strong tide forced the ship off course. At 2.30 pm she struck the sandbank of Hammond’s Knoll where the effect of wind and waves tore down the masts and began to break up the ship. The crew did all they could to save the ship, jettisoning provisions, etc. When the mizzen mast went, they cut it away, hoping that the ship would float off the sands at high water. Whilst all this was going on, Invincible repeatedly fired a distress signal with its guns. For a while, it looked as if the crew’s efforts of jettisoning every they could would work for Invincible moved slightly into deeper water. But, as she did so an even heavier swell and stronger wind caused the ship to lose its rudder. Unmanageable, she was driven back on to the sandbank. There she remained whilst the only thing left for the crew to usefully do was to man the pumps and try to keep as much of the ship as possible above water.

The wreck was only a few miles offshore and its distress signal was eventually answered by the collier Hunter, on her way into Yarmouth, but she, for one reason or another, ignored the Invincibles' plight. Only the Yarmouth fishing smack The Nancy, fishing for cod under its skipper, Daniel Grigson, came to Invincibles’ aid. He offered whatever assistance he could. However, by midnight, it was clear to all on the Royal Navy's ship that nothing could be done to save it and the order was for two of her boats to be lowered with Totty, the purser, four midshipmen and some seamen in one and seamen in the other. They made it safely to The Nancy and then made a second run only for one of the boats to capsize as it approached The Nancy for the second time. Those men who had been thrown into the water were, fortunately, picked up by a collier which had also answered the distress signal from Invincible.

Both The Nancy and the collier remained on rescue watch throughout that Monday night to pick up survivors, although neither were able to offer any assistance to Invincible herself. After dawn had broken, Invincible shifted off the sandbank and drifted into deeper water before she slowly sank. As she lowered herself below the waves, those on her forecastle made a last desperate attempt to survive by leaping into the sea, trying to get on board the last of the ship’s launches. Some made it but others were beaten back with oars by those on board who feared the launch would capsize if it were to become overloaded.

When Invincible finally disappeared into the depths, it took with her about 400 crew. Out of a full complement of 600 men and, bizarrely, 50 passengers, aboard despite the fact that the ship was scheduled to go to war, 190 persons were saved. Not included in this number of survivors was Captain Rennie who, duty bound, was the last man to leave his post, when he did so he was not only wet and extremely cold but suffering from exhaustion. He tried to swim to a launch but gave up. At that final moment before he drowned, he seemingly had accepted his fate when he lifted his hands and place them over his face before sinking calmly beneath the water.

Rear-Admiral Thomas Totty in his Report for the court martial which was to follow described the last moments of the HMS Invincible:

“At daylight on Tuesday morning, I observed that the Invincible had not a single boat, either alongside or astern of her, and the tide ran so strong that it was impossible to get the fishing smack to her, but the moment the tide slacked … she stretched under the Invincibles’ stern, endeavouring by all possible means to work up and get alongside of her, but before that could be accomplished the ship went down in thirteen fathoms of water, and out of 600 persons that belonged to the Invincible there have not been above 190 saved and now living, several who were picked up by the launch died very soon afterwards. I am extremely grieved to inform you that Captain Rennie was among the number of those drowned, by his death the service has lost a truly zealous and intelligent Officer … The horror of the scene at the moment the ship went down far exceeds all power of description.”

Amongst those who had reached The Nancy and were later landed at Great Yarmouth, were those who were still to die as a result of the experience. In total, more than 400 were lost, compared to the 256 who were to die at the Battle of Copenhagen. On his way home from his triumph, Nelson still made time to visit 'his men' from the Invincible lying injured in Great Yarmouth's Naval Hospital.

For days after the wreck, bodies were washed up all along the coast. Most were brought on carts to St. Mary's church at Happisburgh, where they were buried in a huge, unmarked communal mound grave on unconsecrated ground to the north of the church. Of all those lost only six received a proper burial in the Holy Trinity & All Saints churchyard at Winterton on the 20th. March 1801. Their names are unknown.

But the story of the Invincible did not end there because an attempt was made by a Mary Cator in 1913 to erect a memorial as a reminder to the lives lost. She raised money by subscription but when it was found that there was no official record that proved that bodies from the Invincible were buried in the mound, she returned the money raised. Then in 1924, Mary Cator’s persistence to ensure that an appropriate memorial existed at St. Mary’s church paid off. This was the year when the church bells were re-hung, and Mary gave a treble bell on which was inscribed ‘In memory of Nelson’s men wrecked off Haisboro in 1801‘.

The unconsecrated land where the dead were buried was later incorporated into Happisburgh churchyard. In 1988, the remains of many of the Invincibles’ crew were located by chance in their original mass grave during the digging of a new drainage channel. There was found a disordered mass of bones less than three feet below the surface. These remains were reburied with proper rites. Then, ten years later, in 1998, a memorial stone was erected to their memory by the Ship’s Company of the Royal Navy’s aircraft carrier HMS Invincible (R05), together with members of the Nelson Society, the Happisburgh parochial church council and a descendant of Captain John Rennie. This was a final recognition of all those who had died on HMS Invincible in 1801.

 

On 16 March 1801, HMS INVINCIBLE

was wrecked of Happisburgh when

on her way to join the fleet with

Admiral Nelson at Copenhagen.

The day following, the Ship sank with

the loss of some four hundred lives.

One hundred and nineteen members

of the Ship’s Company lie buried here.

“And the sea gave up the dead

that were in it…..”

Revelation 26:13

 

This memorial stone was given jointly

by the Parochial Church Council and

The Officers and Ship’s Company of

HMS Invincible, 1998

 

Footnote:

The compulsory court martial that followed Invincible’s sinking was held on the HMS Ruby at Sheerness, Kent. It absolved the Admiral and the Captain (posthumously) of culpability in the disaster, but posthumously blamed the Harbour Pilot and the Ship’s Master, both of whom had been engaged to steer the ship through the reefs and shoals of the dangerous region, stating "they should have known the location of Hammond Knoll, especially since it was daytime and in sight of land".

 

The only amusing side to this story concerns the many casks that were seen floating on the sea after the HMS Invincible went down. Some 150 were brought ashore by the customs officers and were found to contain brandy. Other casks escaped and were to be picked up by delighted villagers, many of whom drank themselves into oblivion, one even died from his excesses.

  

YOU BETTER RUN LIKE HELL www.goear.com/listen/a06ec53/Run-like-hell-pink-floyd---t...

YOU BETTER MAKE YOUR FACE UP IN

YOUR FAVORITE DISGUISE.

WITH YOUR BUTTON DOWN LIPS AND YOUR

ROLLER BLIND EYES.

WITH YOUR EMPTY SMILE

AND YOUR HUNGRY HEART.

FEEL THE BILE RISING FROM YOUR GUILTY PAST.

WITH YOUR NERVES IN TATTERS

WHEN THE COCKLESHELL

SHATTERS

AND THE HAMMERS BATTER

DOWN THE DOOR.

Letras4U.com » letras traducidas al español

YOUD BETTER RUN.

YOU BETTER RUN LIKE HELL

YOU BETTER RUN ALL DAY

AND RUN ALL NIGHT.

KEEP YOUR DIRTY FEELINGS

DEEP INSIDE.

AND IF YOURE TAKING YOUR GIRLFRIEND

OUT TONIGHT

YOUD BETTER PARK THE CAR

WELL OUT OF SIGHT.

CAUSE IF THEY CATCH YOU IN THE BACK SEAT

TRYING TO PICK HER LOCKS,

THEYRE GONNA SEND YOU BACK TO MOTHER

IN A CARDBOARD BOX.

YOU BETTER RUN.

 

SERÁ MEJOR QUE CORRAS COMO EL DEMONIO

SERÁ MEJOR QUE TE MAQUILLES LA CARA

CON TU MÁSCARA FAVORITA

CON TUS LABIOS ABOTONADOS

Y TUS OJOS COMO PERSIANAS

CON TU SONRRISA VACÍA

Y TU HAMBRIENTO CORAZÓN

SIENTE LA BILIS ASCENDER

DESDE TU CULPABLE PASADO

CON TUS NERVIOS HECHOS POLVO

CUANDO LA CONCHA DEL BERBERECHO

SE ROMPE EN PEDAZOS

Y LOS MARTILLOS

Letras4U.com » letras traducidas al español

ECHAN LA PUERTA ABAJO

MEJOR SERÁ QUE CORRAS COMO EL DEMONIO

MEJOR SERÁ QUE CORRAS TODO EL DÍA

QUE CORRAS TODA LA NOCHE

Y GUARDES TUS SUCIOS SENTIMIENTOS

BIEN DENTRO DE TÍ.

Y SI SALES CON TU NOVIA

ESTA NOCHE

SERÁ MEJOR QUE APARQUES EL COCHE

BIEN FUERA DE LA VISTA DE NADIE

PORQUE SI TE ATRAPAN EN EL ASIENTO DE ATRÁS

TRATANDO DE TIRARLE DEL CABELLO

VAN A ENVIARTE A TU MADRE

EN UNA CAJA DE CARTÓN

MEJOR SERÁ QUE CORRAS.

Sketches from the courtroom of the first trial of the Baltimore police officers accused of being culpable in the death of Freddie Gray. www.washingtonpost.com/news/drawing-dc-together/

You might say poetry is like a camera of the mind. But please, decide for yourself. Would you believe me if I told you that most of these, particularly the shorter ones, practically wrote themselves? I can hardly believe it myself sometimes, but I figure as long as the verses keep coming I'll keep writing them down, because it's never far from my mind that the tap could turn off as suddenly and mysteriously as it turned on in the first place. I'm filling up all three sections as I go along, so these were not written in the order in which they appear.

 

NOTE: Somewhere, at some point, I saw a poem rendered in an archaic format where they capitalized the first word of every line, regardless of gramatic propriety. My adopting that practice could, I guess, be interpreted as an attempt to align my poems with something archaic.

 

WATCH MY FLOWERS

 

Alas, now’s your season

of returning to the soil.

You flowered, bloomed,

matured, then withered.

Now nature begins its

process all over, some

younger thing dreaming

of lasting forever. As I

watch my flowers thrive

and decline, their cycle

just going much quicker

than mine, I’m reminded

it’s all natural and there’s

no reason to feel I asked

for it, that this somehow

is punishment.

  

GARDENING TIPS

 

Unlike Jack’s beanstalk

Something that’s going to grow big

Won’t get that way overnight

It has to dig its roots in

To hold steady against the wind

Even something that’s

Growing without you knowing it

Always starts out

Tiny, just trying to

Get its head above ground

You can crush it if you like

Another one will come along

Eventually

But maybe not in your garden

 

TWO FACES OF DRAMA

 

Our drama puts television to shame

No, I’m not trying to blame

Just saying cast me as your friend

For a change or cast me

Anywhere you like, but

Just be aware that the role

Of villain doesn’t come as naturally

To me as it may appear and

Had I a whole new show based

On an epic for the common man

Where love saves the day

Directed by God, produced at

Heavenly Studios, suitable for all ages

A timeless classic that would charm

Even the Middle East and beguile even

Roger Ebert, it would be my most sincere

Wish that you would play my lead

 

PUP

 

Oh Pup, just to convince you

That you matter is worth

Whatever it takes but

Couldn’t we keep

The drama on TV

And the fireworks indoors?

 

YOU HAVE ONE NEW MESSAGE

 

Pup, I was going to put this in a bottle,

Seal it up and throw it in the sea

But the problem with a message in a bottle is

Pirates might find it and know who to rob

Cops might find it and have me committed

My enemy might find it and destroy it for malice

Lesbians might find it and destroy it on principle

Monkeys might find it and wipe their butts with it

Some hundred year old granny in Idaho

Or mahus in Michigan might find it, think it’s about them,

And dance merrily around the room singing,

“I’m his Pup! I’m his Pup! I know he wants me to give it up!”

(Groan) Oh no I don’t…

A whale might swallow it and it’ll end up in someone’s sushi

Or it might float right to you, only to be scooped up

In your loving hands and tossed unread in the trash

Cause you care so much for the environment

Or it might slip between the tectonic plates on the bottom

Of the sea and cause an earthquake which causes a tsunami

Which is bad for the economy so then you

Might not find a job and it’ll all be my fault

(Sigh) Don’t know why I worry about this stuff

In my past life I was a sheepdog

I suspect

And I digress – there was a message

Yes, between every line, only a wish

That wishes could have magic.

Like the magic that’s changed me lately

Into someone who

Really wishes he could get a message to you.

Do you believe in magic, Pup?

 

PUP VISITS THE POPE

 

Pup, if I were the Pope, it’s you I would bless

In the five things about you that I like the best

That would be your beauty, your intelligence,

Your talent, your spirituality and your sexuality.

If a Pope is not supposed to bless these

Qualities, especially the last, then perhaps

We should start a religion of our own?

 

BLUE BUNNY

 

The name Blue Bunny gives me strange visions

And it really bothers me when I see it used as a

Brand name. It sounds like a Bunny wailing on

A saxophone in the middle of a dangerous bridge

In New York or a Bunny fighting crime in a Superman

Costume or a Bunny who misses his sweetheart

Who’s gone home to take care of her Bunny Mother,

Or an NYPD Bunny struggling to resist corruption

Or some Bunny who pools colors with the Red

Bunny and White Bunny to make a Bunny American

Flag to display Bunny patriotism. Or far worse, a

Bunny at the Playboy Club painted all blue like

Goldfinger encased Pussy Galore in gold in the

James Bond movie. Hindus portray Krishna as

Colored blue, seducing milkmaids with his flute.

Must we now face a Bunny with Krishna skin?

It's not what the name Blue Bunny does to my

Imagination that bothers me, it’s that most people

Will see it and think it's completely normal. This is

All just a Bunny conspiracy if you ask me.

 

(NOTE: There's a real ice cream company called Blue Bunny. The name obviously made an impression.)

 

WHALES

 

If whales wore Walkmans and liked

Reggae then at sea there would

Be Bob Marley and the Whales.

Whales need the deep like reggae

Needs its bass. I wonder what

It's like for whales to argue?

How do whales resolve conflict?

When they restore harmony

Do they jump out of the sea

For joy, splashing tidal waves

Surfers love and causing a

Tsunami in Japan? Or

Ram a battleship for fun?

I shouldn't superimpose

Human attitudes on whales

But if they have a better

Attitude they are welcome

To superimpose on me.

When you hear that happy scree

With the faintest of echoes

Of Bob Marley, it's two whales

Back in harmony again.

 

WHALES 2

 

Nuff ya snide remarks

Bout how we're big like

Whales. Yeah, so we're big,

So what? Big in love.

Big in devotion.

Dangerous big in

Attraction. Big in

Spirit. Big courage.

Big like Rock Candy

Mountain for someone

We're sweet on. Big in

Ancestry. Big in

Generosity.

Even big in our

Humility when

We want things made right.

Say we're big like whales

In all the above.

 

REPUBLICANS

 

Republicans must feel a love like

The kind I feel for you, that’s why

They’re such shameless thieves.

It takes finances, public or otherwise,

To keep a sugar bowl always full.

Republicans must go into flights of

Ecstasy imagining their love’s touch,

That’s why they’re so unscrupulous

About who else loses out as long as

It’s not them. Republicans must be

Devoted family men, that’s why

They don’t mind living off others’

Labor, it leaves them more time to

Expand their families. Republicans must

Take great pleasure in pleasing the

Object of their affection, that’s why

They have no empathy left over for

The rest of the nation. Will I vote

Republican this year? I doubt it, even

Though I can relate to their motives.

 

MYTH OF THE WORM

 

In the realm of the spirits, there’s a big

Worm that comes along and eats negative

Emotions. But like all things in the realm of

The spirits, there’s a catch. You have to call

The worm. The worm is by nature a happy

Creature, but someone whispered in his

Ear, “You eat s**t”, and his first response

Was, “I suppose I do, but that’s my job and I’m

Happy to do it. I’ll eat your guilt, your shame,

Your pain, your sickness, your regrets, you

Name it.” But this someone, who was jealous

Of the good job the worm happily did for

Everyone, insisted, “You eat all these terrible

Things so that makes you terrible too. You

Are filthy and bad and everyone hates you.”

Now this really messed the worm up because

He’d it had never entered his mind that those

Whose negative emotions he made meals of

Would hate him for doing that. Feeling rejection

For the first time, the worm applied logic and

Reason to the situation. “If I stop eating all

These terrible things,” he told himself,

“Maybe people won’t hate me but will love

Me like I always believed they did.” So the

Worm stopped eating all the negativity, and

Consumed positive emotions instead. How

Do you suppose this effected the people?

Not only were their negative emotions piling

Up to the point of drowning them, but their

Positive emotions seemed to be gone as

Fast as their faith could produce them.

Many people assumed the worm must

Have abandoned them out of hatred, or

That it must have been evil all along.

This in turn only justified the worm’s recent

Conclusion that the people held him in

Contempt. No one bothered to ask the worm

Why he wasn't doing what he'd always done,

Because after all, who wants to acknowledge

Some lowly worm? And so the situation remains

To this day. The worm cannot understand

Why people don’t hold him in higher esteem

Even after he stopped the behavior he was

Told made them dislike him, and by now the

Thought of ever performing his old function

Again doesn’t even cross his mind. Meanwhile

The people have to deal with disposing of their

Own negative emotions, which they were never

Very good at to begin with, and this explains why

There’s so much pain inside people and why they

Cause so much pain to each other. Actually, this

Isn’t the whole story. Some people remember

The worm as their friend, and before they

Drift off into the realm of the spirits they

Send thoughts to the worm saying they

Hope he’s all right, and how they appreciated

The help he used to give them. When these

People wake, it’s as if their negative emotions

Were never even there.

 

ASHTRAY

 

In those movies where Bogart

And Bacall were setting the template

For romance that we’d all feel

Inclined to follow decades later,

Bogart and Bacall were puffing away

Which leads me to wonder what

Their kisses must have tasted like.

 

ASHTRAY #2

 

Favorite guitar player, nervous smoker

Smoking to stave off the pangs of

Being hooked on harder stuff. Hard

Living, hard partying, hard loving, hard

Rocking. All this hardness fortifies the

Lungs against the decay and disease

Most mortals would suffer trying to

Emulate their favorite guitar player.

Or he’s just too lost in the music to

Notice he’s choking. Too busy jamming.

How can I be fucking up my lungs, he

Says, when the magical vibrations make

My whole body blend with the infinite

Universe? Favorite guitar player

Hasn’t died yet from the hard stuff

Or even the cigarettes, in fact he’s

Rocking still, though looking a little

Worse for wear and tear. Maybe if

You make your million just playing

Guitar and looking cute your body

Really becomes one with the infinite

Universe and nothing can kill you

Except your fans looking bored.

But for the rest of us mortals who’ve

Yet to stumble into that ridiculously

Lucky state – don’t try this at home.

 

HAPPY

 

I don’t want to be happy,

I want to be insanely happy.

Everyone says pigs can’t fly.

Well I want to be that pig

Who wakes up one morning with

Wings and forms a one pig

Air Force patrolling the war

Zone, deciding the battle on the

Side of the righteous. Soaring

Over cities, leaping over oceans

Transcending my pig identity.

I want to be that frog who

Proves every male of my

Species is really a prince just

Lacking a kiss. I want to be the

Rat who rides on the back of

The tiger. I want to sound the

Trumpet that tumbles down

Walls. I want to explode like

A bomb bringing love instead

Of death. If I can’t indulge in

Any of this insanity, if it’s not

Asking too much, can I at least

Not be as depressed as my

Sane mind says I should be?

 

AMERICA

 

America, land of many faces

Where so many feel faceless

America, land of history

Where so many feel forgotten

America, why are you imploding

From within? America, you

Were born so that men could

Be free of kings, but you’ve

Spawned a whole class of

Kings who can let the rest

Of us eat cake for all they care.

America, you freed the slaves but

Your working men and women

Might as well be slaves to the

Taxman, insurance companies,

Mortgages and landlords. In the

Land of the free, when was the

Last time anything was free?

And in the home of the brave,

The brave are sacrificed to a

Variety of insanities regularly.

America, you’re my identity,

My whole idea of what a

Country is supposed to be.

That’s why if you were a temple

I’d swear someone needs to

Chase out all the money changers.

 

(NOTE: Yes, I have heard of Allen Ginsberg. He's not the only one who's written a poem talking to America, is he? Still, seeing the above several years later makes me feel like I'm such a ripoff...)

 

JIMMY REED

 

The drunker he sounds the better.

The more songs he sings in the same key the better.

The more one of his songs sounds like

All of the others the better.

The dumber his lyrics the better.

The more his drummer can’t find

The beat the better.

The more out of tune he sounds

The better. The slower he drags

The better. I should hate

Jimmy Reed’s music with a passion,

But no, some nights it’s the only

Thing that can make me feet better.

The critic in me is driven half insane

That Mr. Reed can take every musical

Flaw possible and make it all come out

Just fine, so pleasing to the heart, soul,

And some lower regions even if his voice

Sounds like a goat’s plaintive bleating.

Damn, I sure couldn’t do that. His music

Makes me feel drunk when I haven’t

Touched a drop. Drunk on emotion –

Jimmy Reed just feels it and all the

Niceties he can take or leave (mostly

Leave). So the more he plays his

Harmonica like he doesn’t know

How to play it the better, and the

More his band sound like they’re

All going to fall asleep and collapse

In the middle of a take the more

I think this guy is just priceless.

 

(NOTE: After that glowing recommendation, how can you not want to download a Jimmy Reed song or two to hear for yourself what I’m talking about? I recommend “You Got Me Crying”, “Honey What’s Wrong”, “Bright Lights, Big City”, or “Honest I Do”. )

 

CLEAR

 

Wish the sun would melt the

Fog along this path. Never clear.

Following the path into the gray

Area where the truth hides. Truth

Likes to stay unclear sometimes.

 

CYCLE

 

These long drawn out silences

I don’t mind so much, but

I know it won’t be long before

I jump back in the hustle. No,

It’s not just a dance, it’s having

To work for anything to come

Your way. Working hard I can

Handle, but I know it won’t

Be long before I seek out the

Silence once again, all the while

Knowing it’s one long cycle of

Aloneness.

  

SPECTACLE

 

The ancient Romans could be quite

The showmen. There’s this one story I

Heard about how they led a blind poet

Into the arena as the opening act

For that day’s gladiator matches.

The led him to a high mound in the

Middle of the arena floor and said

Please entertain us with your wonderful

Poetry. So off went the poet, reciting for

All he was worth, feeling justifiably

Righteous to finally be given the audience

He’d always felt entitled to. While he

Was reciting as if given the voice of the

Gods, since he was blind he didn’t see

The arena floor filling with water till

His mound was surrounded, nor the

Hungry crocodiles being set loose.

You know what happened next, and

There’s never been a Super Bowl half

Time show that’s entertained the

Assembled sports fans like that

Roman opening act with the blind poet.

Then, as now, poets were considered

Little more than a side show for athletes.

And even then poets were too arrogant

To recognize the big trouble you’re asking

For if you mix poetry with sports.

 

PROFILE

 

My astrological profile says

Cancers tend to over-think

So ok, I’m not going to think.

I will stop thinking right in the

Middle of this poem…. Hmm.

La de da… Hmm, hmm, hmm…

(Sings to self) I’m Jumping Jack

Flash… SHHH! Sorry. (Thinks to

Self) Hmm, yeah the quiet is

Kinda nice… SHHH! Ok, ok.

(Hears Ravel’s Bolero) Hmm…

Nice… (Thinks to self) I’ll bet

It’s really quiet when you’re

Dead… SHHH! OK, ok, quiet

The mind, Zen mind, empty

Mind, tranquility, transcendence,

Mellow… pleasant… pleasure…

She has the most wonderful tits…

(Uh, what was that?) F**K!!!

(Snaps out of it) I just had the

Most gnarly thought!!! My

Profile was right.

 

OBITUARY

 

Obituary is creeping me out. Someday

Will someone write one for me? Will it

Be a tale of scattered accomplishments

Amidst a Disneyland of f**k-ups? Will I

Go to my grave without you knowing

How you turned on a certain light in

My life? NO F**KING WAY!!!

 

TWO WORD POEM

 

Yes. Period.

 

ENTITLEMENT

 

If you thought sex lust was bad, try blood lust.

Not just a crime of passion or some perverted

Sense of self-preservation. Foresight to load

The weapons and wear a bulletproof vest

Indicates clear pre-meditation. Not just wanting

To die, but wanting to kill, and not just one.

Blood lust, like you’re entitled to your revenge,

Or at least your fleeting moment of superiority.

Monkeys can be vicious, but mankind has it

Over them because of a sense of entitlement.

Dinosaurs stomped all over everything else,

But they never claimed it was their divine right.

It’s no wonder we had to invent a divine image

Of ourselves – look how wantonly destructive,

Ugly, cruel and selfish man can be under certain

Circumstances. It’s like Cain and Abel – just the

Slightest sense of one being wronged and brother

Murders brother. it’s like Adam and Eve, given

Everything but having to find out what happens

When you break the rules. It’s like Lucifer, who

Wasn’t satisfied just as God’s favorite but hungered

To himself be God. Entitlement seems like such a

Harmless little word, but when you feel entitled

To all you want, it's easy to forget how to be happy

With how much you already have.

 

HERETIC

 

No, I’m not really a heretic when it comes to

Christmas – gifts large and small gratefully

Accepted! Occasionally even given too! But

Once I met a genuine cynic who opined that

Christmas was all a bunch of falsehood, and the

Best argument I could muster on the spot was,

If you don’t give people an occasion when they’re

Expected to be at their best, then they tend quite

Naturally to be at their worst. He looked at me like,

Yeah right, and I felt like a pretty lousy knight in

Shining armor when it came to defending the

Honor of Christmas. But I sincerely meant it when

I told him people need a reminder it’s just nice to

Be nice – this was the Reagan era after all - and

Even if you don’t get it, why worry, just relax and

Enjoy the weird songs and funny costumes. At the

Same time, much as I hated to admit it, I could see

Where the cynic was coming from. If you came from

Mars and looked at Christmas you might think it has

More to do with Santa than with Christ. But that’s

Jesus for you – even at his own birthday party he says,

It’s great if you spare me a thought or two, but mostly

I want you to focus on each other.

 

ULYSSES

 

You really find out who your friends are

When you’re dead. Ulysses returned home

When no one expected him to, only to find

His so-called friends all trying to marry his

Wife, take his lands, claim his fortunes. He

Had to pose as a beggar so they wouldn’t

Assasinate him on sight, so thoroughly had

They already dishonored his memory. He must

Have thought to himself, so much for being

The hero. Now I have to slaughter those who

Once honored me just so I can walk in my

Own door. By the time Ulysses was finished,

Some thought he was a murderous bastard,

But history has been kinder.

 

RIVER

 

Sometimes the river is raging, looks

Like it might overflow, even cause

Some damage(but that’s pretty rare).

Sometimes the river gets so low you

Wonder if it will dry up (but it never

Does). Sometimes the river is too

Full of debris, fallout from other

Misfortunes, careless abandonments,

Things considered worthless. Given

Time, the river just moves it all down

The line, always accepting the dirt

While always cleaning itself. Most

Of the time the river just flows,

Providing a path, providing respite,

Taking life where it needs to go. If

I was your river I’d carry you to the

Sea, kiss you goodbye, and then

Wait for the next time you fall from

The sky so we can do it again.

 

BUSKER

 

Buskers are those guys and occasional gals

Who stand in a corner in a crowded place

Singing songs with an open guitar case or

Maybe a hat for people to throw them a coin

If they want to. I don't have the guts to be a

Busker, although you never know, guts

Sometimes reveal themselves in ways

You weren't quite expecting. Anyway, I was

Just daydreaming about busking, thinking

It's too bad that's the only way some people

Can get their song heard. But isn't that

Really what a song's for, just to distract

Someone out of the blue long enough to

Show the singer some sympathy? I know

My poetry doesn't necessarily suggest

Music, but it's trying to do the same thing,

That is to distract you in some way that

Makes you go, "Of course!" And you don't

Even have to toss me a coin.

  

CANDLE

 

Rain, wind, fair weather, whatever,

The candle's still in the window.

Symbolic of a certain torch. It's

Habit now. The way may look

Foggy, even impossible, but

You never know what difference

Even a little candle can make.

 

REASONABLE

 

i wish we could be reasonable with

Each other. Reasonable means in

Full consideration of your reasons

And in full consideration of mine.

Reasonable may not seem so sexy

Or so passionate in and of itself and

Yet, if you enjoy being reasonable

With someone, then who better to

Enjoy everything else with?

 

UNIVERSE

 

Something seems very wrong in my

Universe. The Gods, all forces of nature,

All want things their own way. The more

Kind and forgiving Gods feel taken for

Granted, insulted and abused. The

Jealous Gods feel toyed with, and will

Not rest till they exact payback. The proud

Goddess forgets that others have their

Pride too. The nurturing Gods look at

The conflict that should never have been

A conflict and silently weep. The hopeful

Gods clash with the hardness of the Gods

Who can't comprehend the depth of their

Own selfishness. No wonder I can't sleep.

 

WARM AND LOVING

 

I am more than simply the sum total of

How much I hurt, so I"m going to take a

Warm and loving approach to all of this

Because bullshit still hurts but now I

Know it's just bullshit and maybe in your

Poker game bullshit trumps warm and

Loving, but not in mine. It was a risk to

Ever reach out to you at all, knowing what

I know about you. I thought you were

Worth it, cause you still made me feel

Something warm and loving. If I'm left

Feeling like a disposable diaper, my

Intentions were still good, as much as

You may try to color them otherwise for

Your ego's convenience. While you give

Me little choice but to say goodbye, I

Think I'll still keep the warm and loving

Part of myself alive for someone else

Looking for someone warm and loving.

 

MIRROR

 

How quickly it crumbles when you’re given the

Option of the easy way out. If you insist on casting

Me in the worst possible light, careful, that light

Might hit a mirror.

 

FOR OUR BONUS ROUND

 

Name this highly common

Human condition in which

You can get insanely angry

At someone because

You like them.

 

TWO PARADIGMS

 

Some girls insist on building trust slowly

While others will wonder what’s taking

You so long. Then you get the kind of

Girl that does both, pretty much at the

Samoa time, and gets very unhappy

About whichever of the two paradigms

You’re not following.

 

RESPONSIBLE

 

Well, if nothing else, at least I don’t

Have to feel responsible anymore.

Responsible for trying to make up

For any pain I may have caused.

Responsible for trying to be a friend.

Responsible for trying to show I’m

A gentleman. Even responsible for

Trying to show someone who’d speak

To me, even if she couldn’t be certain

I was listening, that I would answer.

You know, self-imposed responsibilities

Like that. But when I find someone

Who’s worth trying to be responsible

For, at least I’ll have had some practice.

 

TOO TENDER

 

In a world as harsh as this one sometimes is,

Can there really be such a thing as too tender?

What’s tender? Many things, like the part of

Ourselves that knows instinctively love is all

That really matters. Like the nurturing, patient,

Confident belief that if you do right, then the

Right thing will sooner or later prevail for you.

Between people, tender is that tingle inside

When you and the one who touches you

Deepest in your heart recognize each other,

And in doing so renew one another over and

Over, endlessly. But is there such a thing as

Too tender? Yes, just as there’s such a thing

As too tough. Tenderness needs toughness

To protect it from the many evils and

Jealousies that would crush it, while

Toughness needs tenderness as its

Reason to be strong, its point in facing

All the problems. Too much of one can

Make it harder for the other, but when

Tenderness and toughness work

Together , they form a foundation

That can’t be shaken by troubles

Or undermined by time.

 

J & J

 

Instead of following his pride into his

Own personal oblivion, if Judas had

Asked Jesus to forgive him, Jesus

Would have done it, right? That’s

What it’s all about – have a heart

And stay in the right no matter what

Happens. But in his own moment

Of weakness under the Roman lash,

You wouldn’t have blamed Jesus for

Feeling like stringing Judas up himself,

Would you?

 

ROCKET SCIENCE

 

What goes around comes around. As you sow,

So shall you reap. Do unto others as you would

Have them do unto you. Do the crime, do the

Time. Fool me once and shame on you – fool

Me twice and shame on me. Same people you

Misuse on your way up, you might meet up with

On your way down. Is any of this stuff rocket

Science to you? Translated: if you want me to

Be your friend, all it would take is for me to be

Certain you’re my friend. It’s not like I want to

Put you though some humiliating submission,

Unless that’s a role you’d get off on acting out.

 

BATS

 

Bats fly right side up but hang upside

Down, so they see things both ways.

You don't have to tell the bats that

There's a whole different way not just

Of seeing things, but of understanding

Things too. Anything is very close to

Its opposite, depending on your view.

That frown of yours is a smile upside

Down. That pain is joy waiting to turn

Over. That sadness is happiness looking

For a way to bloom.That emptiness

Reminds you what fullness is for.That

Friend is an enemy who hasn't realized

It yet. That love is really hatred forming

Itself, like a catepillar still in a cocoon.

And so on and so on, opposites doing

Their balancing dance. What would one

Be without the other? Like day never

Getting its rest when night arrives for

Its watch, or like night never finding

Its way home when day returns with

Its light. All of this is true, or else an

Opposite truth if you turn it upside

Down. Just ask the bats.

 

MISTAKE

 

If this was all a mistake, it was a mistake in

Service of something that didn’t seem like

A mistake. Such, perhaps, is the nature of

Mistakes in general. The thin line separating

Whether this was a mistake or not is simply,

Did anything get through?

 

PEARL HARBOR

 

There’s a certain kind of idiocy that comes

Maybe too naturally, like when you react to

Someone emotionally rather than logically,

Even if they’re someone who makes every

New day seem like an emotional Pearl Harbor

In some big or small way. And no matter how

Many wounded battleships, hysterical sailors

Trying to swim to shore through the burning

Oil on the water, and craters from bombs

They leave behind in what you thought was

The safest harbor of your heart, as soon as

They give even the slightest hint they’re

Coming around to your way of thinking,

You’re all, “Ok, let’s just pretend that

Premeditated attack was simply a bump

On the long highway to happiness.” I hope

The next one to make such an idiot out of

Me at least lets me give something to her

That she can be idiotically happy about too.

 

MOUSE

 

Hello little mouse. Back again for another nibble?

You try so hard to give every appearance of not

Needing what I have to give, yet you keep coming

Back. It’s ok little mouse, I’m not going to confront

You about it. You know it’s my pleasure to always

Leave something for you. You never say thank you,

But knowing something I do gives someone else

Something to feel good about or at least take some

Interest in makes it worthwhile to carry on doing it.

But mouse, it makes so little sense how you turn

So surly when you know I can see you. And God

Forbid I should try speaking directly to you without

This filter - then you start freaking as if I've invaded

Your space, screech your perturbed mouse screech

And bolt. And I think gee, you've only been reading me

For almost a year. What kind of mouse household

Bred those brazen manners of yours? At times you've

Come dangerously close to convincing me your're

Really a stunted growth rat, but I always let it go

Because even when rude you're amusing, not to

Mention the only muse to inspire me at the moment.

So whatever you’re comfortable with, little mouse,

Whatever pointy pose you care to assume as part

Of your ritual, it's fine with me and it doesn’t have to

Change, at least not yet. Until I find another who

Appreciates my gifts even more that you do, there

Will probably be something here for you when

You come around. You could even surprise me

And share your own thoughts sometime, but I

Know better than to expect that from a mouse.

 

WEAK

 

Macho psychology says it would be really

Weak of me to forgive you. A real man,

After all, has to slap some sense into his

Bitch, bend her over for some punishment,

And maybe even then still tell the ho to take

A hike. None of that’s really my style, mama's

Boy that I am, but truthfully, it's more of a

Concern to me that YOU would take my

Forgiving you as a sign of weakness, as if

In the doorway to your heart I’m just a

Door mat. Is that what you’d do? I don’t

Know. Maybe you’re just afraid of looking

Weak too. No one wants to ever look weak,

Even though if we were really as strong as

We pretend we are, our lives wouldn’t be

Such a lonely mess. So really, I don’t care

If it makes me look weak, even to you.

Truth is, you’re already forgiven. You

Might have to do some work to get me

To ever trust you, but if you try you might

Find it’s easier than you think.

 

CUT OPEN

 

The new McDonalds uniforms

Make me feel like I’ve checked

Into a hospital where Ronald is

Surgeon General. Let me out of

This Surgery Ward! I’ve been cut

Open by clowns quite enough,

Thank you. No wonder your

Hamburgers are tasting strange.

 

TV

 

Like a TV I have more than one

Story going on at the same time

I show you the one you want to see

But you know there’s more than

Meets the eye Like a TV I’m always

Trying to sell you something and

Convince you it will do wonders

For your happiness. Like a TV I

Try to capture your fancy and

Imagination, take you on a little

Adventure exploring the wonders

Of nature like a TV I try to show

You what’s really going on in

The world, even if I coat the truth

To make it easy to digest at dinner

Like a TV I’ll still be your friend even

When you don’t mind your manners

Like a TV I just like the way you push

My buttons and turn me on.

 

DIPLOMACY

 

Diplomacy can feel so awkward when

Working through an unspoken cold war

Where as a matter of national integrity

Neither side will concede culpability

Diplomacy can seem silly when

You have to pretend there’s no history

And start again fresh like strangers

(With very fixed ideas about each other)

But diplomacy’s so necessary when

Hurt feelings have hardened into policy

And walls have gone up to give the illusion

Of protection from the source of pain

As both sides carry on functioning

Like someone missing a limb

Cause they’re suffering for something

The other side once meant to them

While this isn’t an invasion, let’s

Think back to the time when my

Country was part of yours and

Yours was part of mine. While I

Don’t wish to convey blame in

My tone, my friend, must we keep

Carving stupidity into stone?

 

ASTRONOMY FOR DUMMIES

 

I took Astronomy for Dummies

Subtitled Science for Chimpanzees

We studied the Big Bang Theory and I

Daydreamed the Universal Mind must have

Match-made two galaxies that really

Wanted to blend. Such was their chemistry

That when they finally found their way in

To one another the explosion

Opened up worlds of possibilities….

Like us, descended from galaxy dust.

When I shared this analysis with a

Classmate she laughed and said

Some boys think to be an astronaut

All you have to do is polish your rocket

In private.

 

ZEUS

 

Maybe the ancient Romans

Thought prowess with their balls and

Poles brought them closer to their

Gods up on Mount Olympus.

These are the same ones who fed

The first Christians to lions.

Still, we light pagan fires

Using their ritual torch,

Watch today’s gladiators

Televised in bloodless sport.

Zeus must find this amusing,

And it sells a lot of beer.

 

SCURRYING

 

Any gesture I make to reach

Out sends you scurrying to the

Nearest Bible. Take me to church

With you and see if a bolt of

Lightning strikes me when I enter.

See, nothing. It’s cause my sins have

Been sins of omission, of lost

Direction, never an embrace

Of darkness, even if sometimes

I couldn’t find the light. Now I

Only believe in you. If your

Love is a river, baptize me.

Speak the holy word from your heart.

If you really think I’m savage

You must be my missionary

Duty calls you to save this lost

Sheep you seem to think is a wolf.

 

MIRAGES

 

Monks used to wander out into the

Desert seeking enlightenment. The

Vast empty space, they say, mirrors

The emptiness of pure consciousness

Where truth and wisdom hide in

Obscure corners. Whether these

Monks found revelations or just

Dehydration all depended on their

Luck and wits, but the main thing was

To make that leap of faith, to place

Your whole existence in the hands

Of the one you believe in. Nowadays

Those who can’t find a real desert

Sometimes wander into a personal

Wilderness instead, but like the monk

They’re on a search too. I wandered

Into a desert of the heart by chance

More than choice, and I know I’m

Not in it any more but you can’t

Leave behind what you learned there.

Unlike a monk, I haven’t emerged from

My wilderness with any kind of holiness,

Just a curious tendency to find the holy

In the ordinary.

 

BROKEN TOY

 

Someone’s broken toy out in the rain

A doll missing a few limbs, missing

Its dress, its shoes, its hair, its package

Dolls, so I’m told, remind little girls

Of all the things in life we hold dear

Remind them someday they’ll be mommies

Holding children not much bigger than

Someone’s broken toy out in the rain

We’re geared to take good things for granted

Plenty more toys where that one came from.

 

OLD SOLDIER

 

Old soldier, still fighting the same

Old war. I never felt defined by the

Outcome, only felt it was my duty

I had to take seriously, for without

My dedication to service who could

Be dedicated to me?

   

La Generalitat no paga el bonollibre ni les medicines, ni l'electricitat ni el gas a les escoles ... només paga als Gürtel i a la Fórmula un.

 

.

 

.

 

♪ La Gossa Sorda - Senyor Pirotècnic ♪

 

Més a: camidevera.blogspot.com/

 

www.facebook.com/CesarEnric

MSC Shenzen. Otro más a la lista negra.

Explore #485 2-Nov-2009

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Freeing God’s Slaves: The Emperor Wears No Clothes ~

“Is anything god’s work? God doesn’t do any work – he just gets his peasants to do it for him.”

- Wonder Boy, Aged 8

 

Humans (domesticated primates) have long been trained to worship externalised gods – a dangerous addiction humankind has carried forth from its primat-ive childhood; a merely imagined need that usually serves to only impede progressive change and unfolding evolution. Protective and instructive deities are nothing more nor less than the parent figures all children crave. All wise kids eventually learn that obeying the often arbitrary dictates of others who are actually just overblown, overgrown, adulterated children is a dumb idea.

 

Respect must be earned. Most elders in modern societies have far less of value to impart to subsequent generations than did their more ‘primitive’ tribal counterparts. Many older people are the same simpletons and ignoramuses they were when they were young. Those who claim to be today’s authority figures are almost all control freaks at best, and clinical psychopaths at worst. Almost all conspire to fatten themselves on poisonous excesses at the expense of the ecosystem that truly nourishes their children; mindlessly slaving away at tasks which destroy the planet and alienate them from their loved ones, with the idiot excuse that they’re ‘supporting their families’.

 

In the modern world ‘bosses’ are actually parasites, sucking life from the host of workers who labour under their dictates. CEOs are nothing more than common enemy overlords. The further up the ‘ladder of success’ one progresses, the more excesses and crimes of omission are committed. And everyone who toils on that ladder is equally culpable, supporting and maintaining a loathsome system with their precious time and effort.

 

Many ‘bosses’ earn fantastically higher wages than those who toil at much harder jobs – as intrinsically unfair, untrue and unjust as any racist dictate of classic caste or class systems. Those who crave power are those who deserve it the least. Anyone who sucks and arse-kisses their way up the totem pole is best pitied and avoided – not praised. Independent contractors and others who are their own bosses are the freest workers in the modern feudal wage slave era.

 

Those who remain inside institutions beyond their maturity are insecure timeservers who are happiest locked inside a comfortably familiar prison. Anyone with a PhD is automatically suspect as an institutionalised ignoramus. Most are overeducated buffoons who never realised that throwing away all the best years of their lives to conform and confirm the lies and misapprehensions of other fossilised brainwashed academics is a stupid idea. Most are just insecure kiddies afraid of stepping out into the great wide world – afraid of nature and their own unexamined nature; afraid of their own shadow.

 

Most people are carefully convinced by society to show more respect – and give more money – to a domesticated primate with the word ‘doctor’ (or some other aggrandising title) in front of their name than to anyone else. We’re trained to think that the work done by someone who has spent many years ‘studying’ is somehow more worthwhile – and worth more – than work that’s considered more ‘common’, such as planting and nurturing trees, growing organic food, building homes or educating young children. We’re entrained to believe that one person’s time can be worth more than another’s.

 

A cogent way to remove this classic conditioning can be to avoid calling anyone ‘sir’, ‘doctor’ or (heaven forfend) reverend. Such aggrandising titles are far too damaging for any egocentric wannabe leader to hear and only serve to establish subservience. If you always refer to so-called doctors as ‘docturds’, and discourage anyone from trusting the words of such moneygrubbing, authoritarian, self-inflating egotists, you can train yourself to stop supporting an intrinsically unethical system. Avoid using made-up titles entirely; why not simply call a person by their name?

 

Almost all docturds are only in it for the money – shamelessly rorting medical insurance systems to squeeze every drop from society. The rest is hopeful confabulation on the part of their desperate victims. In most cases, people actually heal themselves (there are exceptions – see below).

 

They target the most helpless and vulnerable groups of humankind above others, foisting their theoretical practices on women and children in particular. Female humans are thoroughly entrained to entrust their bodies (and minds) to paternalistic authority figures. From a very young age they’re taught to visit docturds regularly, and to trust them with every intimate detail of their lives. Women (in particular) are trained to have ‘regular tests’ for ‘abnormalities’ – tests which actually cause the very ‘abnormalities’ they purportedly search for – and to enrich the coffers of white coated professionals with ‘preventative’ and ‘elective’ surgery and toxic chemical intervention. Pap smears, mammography and the treatment of ‘abnormal’ cells produce more false positives (fake results) than accurate ones and the docturds and their pathological host of pathologists apologise all the way to the bank after each mistimed misstep and misanthropic mistake.

 

‘You know them by their fruits’ – and most of the fruits of ‘medical professionals’ are rotten and poisonous. More people die from medical (t)errors than from any other cause. Pill-pushing salesmen for chemical industries deserve the OPPOSITE to respect, as do ‘scientists’ who lend their time to the industrious military establishment, or to corporations of ignorant savages who randomly interfere with healthy biological processes to make money from poisoning the food chain and planetary ecosystem with pesticides or genetically modified ‘products’.

 

Surely we all know better than to show any respect to banksters by now. The most lame offenders of all are probably so-called ‘economists’ who peddle a pseudoscience that every taxpayer is brainwashed into believing, even though their ‘forecasts’ are even less accurate than those of the average 20th Century weatherman. So-called news reports overflow with their senseless, tedious effluvia, drowning out any meaningful news or information beneath their hazy bullshit and babble.

 

The biggest (and potentially most dangerous) liars of all are ‘religious’ people – conmen and women who peddle superstitious pernicious sexism, racism and utter bald faced balderdash to the most ignorant and insecure people on the planet, offering filthy lies to those suffering from the greatest terror on Earth – the fear of death; just like docturds.

 

Those who profit from other people’s misery deserve no respect whatsoever.

 

photo Motive is everything

  

This writer now observes the world from a remote forest, but once lived directly opposite the medical school of a major metropolitan university, with the opportunity to meet many up and coming young docturds. Whenever the chance arrived to converse with a medical student in private I asked each of them the same innocuous question; ‘Why did you decide to become a medical professional?’

 

Over the course of several years literally scores of these young professionals had the same opportunity to present their case. Not a single one replied; ‘Because I wanted to help the sick’ or ‘to be a healer.’ Not one claimed to have a particular interest in anatomy or biology. None even bothered to feign any real interest in medicine. Without exception their replies were almost identical; “Well, I was going to be a lawyer but my mother/father thought there’d be more money in medicine.’

 

When I asked if they’d taken the Hippocratic Oath (which simply requires medical practitioners to ‘do no harm’ and to help the sick and suffering regardless of payment), they all simply stared at me with an expression that seemed to say, ‘Are you really that naïve?” I never allow a docturd to come anywhere near me. I’ve set my own bones, healed internal bleeding and cancerous conditions without subjecting myself to their ignorant meddling (and am still alive and healthy as a result).

 

Surgeons who capably repair damaged individuals and those who genuinely care for and look after the sick and injured – like nurses – naturally deserve respect. But most docturds are self aggrandising arseholes at best, and outright dangerous nincompoops at worst. Few include things like diet and lifestyle in their diagnoses and routinely prescribe inappropriate but profitable poisons to desperate people.

 

Those who profit from people’s misery are nothing short of despicable.

 

Like many or most purveyors of ‘professionalism’ a large number cheated their way through school. They don’t deserve your trust or respect. Don’t take my word for it. Just ask virtually any nurse you happen to meet; they know what’s going on!

 

Those who can, do

 

‘Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.’ This old truism needs to be revived and spread far and wide. Very few ‘teachers’ are anything but institutionalized time servers who’ve been trained to brainwash others with gormless mind control served up as ‘education’. They have no life experience and know nothing but what they’ve been told to believe. All their textbooks were hopelessly outdated even when they were newly published.

 

The great technological and social advances of humankind have all been brought about by people without doctorates – in many cases without any formal ‘education’ at all. Tesla, Einstein, Edison and most celebrated creative thinkers achieved the improbable despite the ‘education’ institutions they were subjected to (and escaped while still young), not because of them.

 

Creative thinking suffers from regimentation. Authority poisons it. Once a child can read, write and understand basic mathematics they are capable of choosing their own path to knowledge and remain individual enough to have unique creative insights. As all teaching institutions are automatically outdated and operated by superannuated time servers, all a person can really expect to learn in ‘higher education’ institutions is conformity – and how to babble to other cocooned minds in obscurantist jargonese.

 

Don’t put off living your life until later! There’s no time BUT the present. What do you really want to do with your precious time? Do you really want to serve the obnoxious dweebs who are destroying the planet with their ‘efficient’ industries and ‘profitable’ pastimes? Start something new, fresh and original instead – away from their pernicious influence, where you can’t feed them with your efforts.

 

Around two generations ago people in advanced nations were informed that by the 21st Century they’d have to learn how to make use of their coming abundance of ‘leisure time’. Automation would ensure that fewer and fewer people would be able to ‘earn a living’ by toiling their lives away and an era of plenty and freedom was dawning. The need for anyone to work full time would soon be redundant. People were told they’d have to learn how to share the shrinking pool of jobs that remain – and to learn to share everything else as a result.

 

Everyone needed to learn how to best use their newfound freedoms. Guess what? It’s the 21st Century! Wake up and smell the flowers.

 

Me? This time of year I shovel clean dry horseshit by day to provide healthy, honest, wholesome food for myself and those around me. You can’t buy clean manure – almost all animals are filled with poisons and only the ones you feed and look after can be trusted to provide clean fertiliser. By night I shovel bullshit out of the way on the worldwideweb to make way for the growth of truth. The evolution of the internet is doing away with any need for the fossilized ivory towers of ‘education’ institutions.

 

Every time someone uses anything fuelled by poisonous fossil fuels – every time you turn on a light, drive in vehicle, borrow money, use anything made of plastic or almost anything created by this toxic civilisation – you are as culpable and destructive as any oil company executive or bankster. Every person who works in an office tower, factory or mine is as bad as the executive who squats atop the totem pole. Every worker who props up the totem deserves to go down in the tower along with their boss. Those who serve pain and death deserve it.

Changing the system is a good idea, in the long run. Yet in today’s world you can only do anything of real worth for yourself and your family by leaving the old workaday system behind and helping it to wither on the vine with your absence. The only real way to succeed is by abandoning the dominant paradigm and creating, living and loving a new way of life – preferably with likeminded change agents.

 

Turn off your TV and get rid of it (if you refuse to read much watch my Youtube channel instead)! The internet is a great alternative – if you use it for something other than supporting the system with your time and energy.

 

If you like to learn, become one of the New Illuminati in this new Enlightenment @ nexusilluminati.blogspot.com . Learn how to plant and nurture living things; learn about something worthwhile, such as Permaculture. Ally yourself with life through your thoughts and actions, and object out loud to slaves and bosses who want you to help them saw off the limb you’re perched on. Let them know what you really think of them!

 

If you want to actually save the world, join any group that’s actively stopping loggers or miners or chemical factories/farmers/poisoners or other corporate slaves from destroying the planet, and get out into the real living world, to experience its actual glorious splendour while you stop the moronic workers from filthying their own nests and yours. Stand in front of a bulldozer driver with other wise souls – and stop them in their tracks.

 

Above all, take time out to examine your mind and motives. Your thoughts create the world! See where your thoughts/programs/memes actually come from and decide whether you want to own them. Enjoy life (without shopping or spending money). That’s why you’re here. Don’t put it off. Do it now!

  

Turn on. Tune in. OPT OUT!

 

Time appears to flow onward…

- R. Ayana

 

“Before enlightenment, chop wood and carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood and carry water.”

- Buddhist Saying

 

For more by R. Ayana see nexusilluminati.blogspot.com/search/label/r.%20 ayana

 

and hermetic.blog.com

  

Respirando tu aire, soñando tus sueños, hoy quiero que sepas que tu estas en ellos, que eres la culpable de todo mis desvelos quiero que comprendas que tu eres mi anhelo, me pasos los días y las noches enteras

pensando en el amor que recorre por mis venas, pensando que buscaba en alguien que me quisiera y al afínal en contre a alguien que vale la pena.

 

Y quiero confesarte que mi vida eres tú el ángel de mi guarda el que me entrega su luz, el que ilumina el callejón sin salida, el que le a dado la esperanza a mi vida. Estoy aquí a la luz de la vela escribiendo una canción a la mujer más bella por que quiero que sepa que me enamore de ella y la quiero llevar conmigo asta las estrellas. Esa cesación que recorre mi cuerpo cada vez que me mira si se detiene el tiempo cada vez que me besas me robas el aliento tu eres la princesa que me devolvió el cuento.

 

Respirando tu aire, soñando tus sueños y hoy quiero que sepas que tu estas en ellos, que eres la culpable de todo mis desvelos quiero que comprendas que tu eres mi anhelo

 

♪♫♥

Understanding Guilt

Scriptures: John 8:1-11

 

Guilt over doing something that violates the conscience is a normal emotion. However, living under a cloud of remorse for no discernible reason is not. The Lord designed feelings of culpability and regret to serve as a reminder that a person has done wrong and needs to repent. But Satan twists those emotions to imprison men and women: those living in shame are uncertain of God's love and often lack self-confidence. Good guilt--the Lord's effective tool for prompting repentance--is a gift that helps us find the right path. However, the Devil encourages false guilt, which involves taking responsibility for things outside our control and then suffering self-condemnation for not changing the outcome. This unhealthy type of guilt is also a widespread problem for those in legalistic churches or lifestyles--certain behaviors or thoughts are labeled as wrong, and then people feel ashamed for doing or thinking those things. Self-condemnation stunts a relationship with Jesus. Instead of enjoying the peace of God, people who are trapped by shame fear His rejection and feel driven to prove their worth. Trust is nearly impossible because they are waiting for God's judgment to rain down. Their guilt even colors how they see themselves: rather than saying, "My action is wrong," they say, "I am bad." Jesus did not come to accuse or condemn us. Christ restored our souls and made us righteous before God so that our guilt is removed. If our Savior forgave the woman caught in an adulterous relationship, just imagine how ready He is to take your shame away too (John 8:11).

_____

Dr. Charles Stanley

City Rebuffed in Trying to Bar Mass Bike Rides

 

By JIM DWYER

 

Published: February 16, 2006

  

For 18 months, the city has spared few efforts — on the street or in courts — to clamp down on a group bicycle ride in Manhattan called Critical Mass that the authorities say causes havoc by blocking traffic.

 

Yesterday, a state judge rejected the city's latest attempt and took the extra step of asking both sides in the dispute to calm down.

 

Calling the city's legal strategy against the ride "highly irregular" and "as unnecessary as it is inappropriate," Justice Michael D. Stallman of State Supreme Court in Manhattan refused to bar an environmental group and four people from taking part in it, from gathering at Union Square Park beforehand, or from announcing the rides on the group's Web site, as the city had requested.

 

The city had also asked the judge to issue an unusual civil declaration, without a trial, that the environmental group, Time's Up, and the four individuals had "criminal culpability" for violating laws and regulations that carried penalties of fines and imprisonment. The judge also rejected that request.

 

Justice Stallman concluded his 24-page decision by urging city officials and the ride participants to work out their differences.

 

"The social compact and the realities of living in a crowded place demand patience, mutual respect and self-restraint," Justice Stallman wrote. "Mutual de-escalation of rhetoric and conduct, and a conciliatory attitude, may help the parties and the Critical Mass riders resolve the litigation and arrive at a workable modus vivendi."

 

The rides take place on the last Friday of the month in about 400 cities, and have no acknowledged leadership or routes. For nearly a decade, the rides in New York attracted little notice and no arrests until the evening of Aug. 27, 2004, a few days before the Republican National Convention opened.

 

That night, 5,000 riders, many of them in the city to demonstrate at the convention, were met by a large number of police officers. The police arrested 264 riders on charges of parading without a permit and other violations.

 

Since then, officers in various disguises have infiltrated the monthly rides. Other officers in police cars have chased bicycle riders at high speed. Police helicopters have followed the riders. Two officers on motorcycles collided at last month's ride.

 

The judge's suggestion of a cease-fire drew mixed reactions. Norman Siegel, who represented Time's Up and the four people singled out by the city, said it was a chance to end an elephantine conflict.

 

"We need to get back to a time pre-August 2004 when Critical Mass was able to ride their bikes in a cooperative ride with the N.Y.P.D.," Mr. Siegel said. "This is the second time the city has attempted to stop the Critical Mass rides, once in federal court and now in state court, and both times their arguments were rejected. I would hope that the mayor and the police commissioner assume the needed leadership on this controversy and begin serious and substantial discussions to amicably resolve it."

 

The City Law Department declined to discuss the judge's decision and said it planned to appeal.

 

The Police Department's chief spokesman, Paul J. Browne, said the department had always been willing to work out an arrangement with the bicycle riders.

 

"The Police Department offered long ago to work with the organizers to ensure a safe ride in which police would stop vehicular traffic at intersections so bicyclists could proceed without stopping along the route, while, conversely, holding bicyclists at intersections to allow ambulances and other emergency vehicles to proceed or to alleviate bottlenecks," Mr. Browne said. "It was rejected, but the offer stands."

 

Justice Stallman said that since the rides had no identifiable leadership, it made little sense for the city to single out Time's Up and four people associated with the group, William DePaola, Brandon Neubauer, Leah Rorvig and Matthew Roth.

 

The city had demanded that they be barred from assembling in Union Square Park, the customary gathering point before each month's ride, unless someone obtained a permit. The judge said that made little sense because anyone could turn up in the park and no permit was required for "casual use."

 

As a practical matter, Justice Stallman wrote, the city did not explain how it could tell the difference between people who were gathering for the Critical Mass rides from anyone else who happened to be in the park. The city's assumption that anyone with a bicycle could be barred "is simply guilt by association," he wrote.

 

The city also argued that it was illegal for Time's Up to advertise an event for which a permit had been denied, but Justice Stallman noted that the city had never denied a permit since no one had ever sought one.

 

The judge said the city had wrongly argued that the Critical Mass rides were a form of parade or procession that required a permit because the riders "travel en masse." Following the city's reasoning, the judge wrote, "New Yorkers commuting over the Brooklyn Bridge on bicycles during a transit strike could be considered as 'bicycling en masse.' " Such a restriction, he said, raised constitutional concerns.

 

"Riding a bicycle on city streets is lawful conduct, as long as one observes the applicable traffic laws and rules," he wrote.

Esta semana pasada he celebrado mi 11 aniversario como padre.

Aquí teneis al culpable, mi hijo mayor, Ander, que el sábado cumplió 11 años.

 

See where this picture was taken. [?]

A carón do encoro, preto da túa esquiva presenza. A memoria esquecida dos destinos que non se han atopar.

 

E son eu o único culpable, e son eu quen por unha vez non chegou a tempo.

 

Non acabo de saber se é desexo ou condena cada vez que te lembro.

(Comments disabled)

 

The American people have spoken and told President Trump he is finished, but he shows a remarkable contempt for them and democracy, trying to cheat his way into a second, undeserved term. This was predictable, as the poem below was first published in August.

 

A very poor loser

 

Come November

He will be

Of course

A very poor loser

A very bad sport

A big baby

Claiming foul

Voter fraud

And theft

Throwing tantrum

After tantrum

Whining

“They cheated!”

Whinging

“It’s rigged!”

And tossing his small hands in the air

He will look for sympathy

Play the victim

And make excuses

 

“It isn’t fair!”

He will protest

Filing lawsuits

Calling out the Marines

The Navy

The Air Force

And the Coast Guard

To save him from drowning

He will drag his heels

Cling to the Oval Office

Crying out hysterically

“They stole the election!”

Asking for recounts

A second chance

And a reprieve

Flailing about

Impotently

Alone in the big White House

With Melania long gone

Until finally

Wednesday

January 20th

2021

Comes

And he goes

Out the door

Fired

Exiled

Shamed

And culpable

 

© Jamie McKenzie, all rights reserved

You will find more of my poems and songs here

and in The Storm in Its Passing and Flights of Fancy.

 

My songs are at

www.youtube.com/user/edtech2008/videos

 

REMEMBERING A FALLEN HERO - Dave Conner today had the privilege of taking the great granddaughter and great-great granddaughter of Constable Thomas King (Inverness-shire constabulary) to visit PC King's grave at Abernethy Churchyard, near Nethybridge. Catherine (Cathy) Raiteri (nee Mann) and her daughter Leanne Mayfield had travelled from Queensland, Australia and could not make a trip to the UK without paying their respects at the grave of their ancestors, PC King and his son also Thomas junior whose ashes are also interred there. Cathy nursed Thomas junior (her great uncle) in his final years in Australia and Leanne also recalls often visiting him before he passed away in 1976.

 

During the visit on 5th September 2015, the Australian visitors were also shown by Dave Conner, and paid their respects at, the adjacent grave where lies PC James Fraser of the Elginshire (later Morayshire) constabulary. He died from stab wounds sustained on duty in June 1878 in Grantown-on-Spey. It is remarkable that only two officers to die from criminal attack in the whole history of policing of Policing of the Highlands & Islands should die within a matter of several miles of each other and be buried close to each other in the same lonely cemetery. It is almost 117 years since the death of PC King, the last officer in the former Northern Constabulary area (Highlands & Islands) to be murdered in the line of his duty. May there never be another such instance. God bless the Fallen officers.

  

THE MURDER

 

On 20th December 1898, Constable Thomas King - a 46-year old police officer who for the past 10 years had been the resident beat officer for the parish of Abernethy (Nethybridge) - had gone with a colleague PC John MacNiven (stationed at boat of Garten) to the rural Tulloch area to effect the area on a Sheriff Court warrant of one Allan MacCallum. The wanted man, residing with a mother and her daughter in a small but-and-ben two roomed cottage in the woodland of Tulloch, was wanted to appear before the court on a charge of poaching.

 

PC King, having made voice contact with MacCallum, approached the cottage. When he and his colleague entered the but-and-ben they split up. As PC King knew the layout of the house from previous visits, he went to the kitchen where MacCallum was likely to be , while MacNiven took the other room (bedroom). PC MacNiven then heard a shot ring out and stumbling through the darkened house, fell over what transpired to be the body of PC King. MacCallum had run off after firing the fatal shot. After a manhunt of several days led by the Deputy Chief of the Inverness-shire force, MacCallum was found hiding in a barn and was arrested, being held in Inverness Prison (then at Inverness Castle, another part of which building was also the force's HQ) until his trial. MacCallum was convicted of Culpable Homicide, going down for fifteen years.

 

THE FAMILY

 

PC King was buried in Abernethy Graveyard and the memorial stone records: “ERECTED BY THE INVERNESS-SHIRE CONSTABULARY”. At that stage there was nothing to state how he met his death.

 

PC King’s widow Jessie had 5 children under 15 to look after – plus two who were “adults” (aged 15 and 16). Another child had died in infancy and is believed to have been previously buried in the plot occupied by PC King. (This would appear to explain the wee lamb statuette in front of the gravestone).

 

The King family subsequently all emigrated to Australia, where Jessie continued to receive her police widow’s pension until her death in Brisbane, Queensland in 1948 at the age of 89.

 

THE SON

 

In 1966 Andrew McClure, then Chief Constable of Inverness-shire, and his Deputy, Superintendent James Macintyre, had a surprise visit at the Force Headquarters at Inverness Castle from an elderly Australian gentleman - by the name of King. He was somewhat less than pleased to find that there was no memorial at the Force Headquarters to record the supreme sacrifice of Constable Thomas King. This gentleman was another Thomas King, the son of the late Constable, and this visit resulted in the erection of a commemorative plaque at the Entrance Hall of the Force headquarters (then at Inverness Castle, and now at the former Northern Constabulary HQ at Old Perth road, Inverness).

 

As for Thomas King (junior), son of the murdered Constable and who presented the memorial plaque, he had served his apprenticeship as a carpenter with a tradesman in Nethybridge before emigrating to Australia in 1907. Though only 16 years of age when he left his native soil, he never lost his love of the ‘Old Country’. He went on to become one of the leading figures in Highland Dancing in Australia, having been first a competitor and later a judge in the competitions.

 

Thomas ‘Tom’ King (junior) died in a Brisbane Nursing Home in December 1976, and during the following year his ashes were interred in his father's grave, in Abernethy Churchyard, the service being attended by several police officers.

 

THE CENTENARY

 

On the centenary of PC King’s death, a ceremony was held at the graveside in Abernethy Churchyard. Retired Superintendent Alan Moir spoke on behalf of the Northern Constabulary branch of the Retired Police Officers Association Scotland, and three descendants of Constable King were also in attendance.

 

Constable Dave Conner, Force Historian, produced a uniform of the period, which had unfortunately shrunk (??!!) in the interim, preventing him from wearing it. Constable Malcolm Taylor, Boat of Garten, whose beat covered the area of Tulloch where Constable King fell, kindly deputised and wore the uniform with pride as the gravestone was re-dedicated, complete with added wording to the effect that the officer had been killed in the execution of his duty.

 

The force was represented by Deputy Chief Constable Keith Cullen, and local officers also attended. A booklet written by PC Conner, telling the story of Constable King's career, death and family, was distributed at the service. Retired Inspector Sandy Mackenzie, an accomplished piper, played a lament at the graveside, including that haunting melody 'Flowers of the Forest', which would be heard across the world the next day from memorial services for the dead of the Lockerbie Disaster.

 

THE MEMORY

 

The memory of Constable King lives on, as can be seen from this visit today. Several member of the PC King’s family have visited his grave over the years, and last year Northern Constabulary Pipe Band paid their own respects at the grave while in the area for another event. PC King went into that house well aware of MacCallum being armed - he knew the potential danger but still endeavoured to do his job . Police officers have always had to make judgements (risk assessments) like that and thankfully most work out alright. Policing is a risky business but that does not deter the boys and girls in blue. That’s what The Job is all about – to serve and protect. May God protect all Law Enforcement Officers as they carry out their duty.

 

Bordada a mano estilo tradicional solo que normalmente usan muchos colores, y tejen la tela a mano. Esta es tela comercial. Tela de algodón con estambre. Los bordes son de crochet hecho a mano. Me la regalaron en una casa de tejedoras, pues compré huipiles y pagué demasiado después de regatear un rato, y me regaló varias cositas, para no sentirse tan culpable.

  

This was given to me by the woman who wove it. I bought huipiles from her, and i paid too much, and so she gave me some stuff to assuage her guilt. :) Hand embroidered with acrylic, hand crocheted edges, very traditional designs, normally done in a riot of colors on handwoven cloth.

 

Si te gusta la foto por favor dale estrella! gracias!

 

Ojitlán, Oaxaca, MEXICO (Chinanteca)