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Three sentences, only one instance of 'fucking' removed. That could be a record for an Al Swearengen quote.
A possible story of the Light of the World.
Centuries have passed since Yahweh inhabited Solomon’s temple around 1000 Before Common Era. Centuries have passed since the last king in David’s linage ignominiously fell around 586 BCE. Tributary king of Judah – Zedekiah – sealed his death sentence, after jilting the Babylonians masters, through a doomed alliance with Egypt, and by refusing to pay tribute to Nebuchadnezzar II. After a year’s siege, Nebuchandnezzar’s army breached Jerusalem defenses then destroyed the temple. Zedekiah saw his son killed, was blinded then carried off to Babylon captivity along with many Jewish people. Centuries have passed since the end of the Jewish diaspora, the return to Jerusalem and phoenix rise of a second temple by 516 BCE. Only a century has passed since Greek Seleucids invaded Israel, warping the Temple into an edifice for worshiping Zeus. Foreigners attempted to quash Yahweh, His direction, the Light within the tribes of Israel. Foreigner enforced Zeus worship. In the village of Modi’in, west of Jerusalem, a faltering Jew turned toward the foreign god, making motions to bow down in worship. A kohen, a Jewish priest of the lineage of Aaron, smite the apostate before completing the act of compliance. The God of angel armies empowered a small force of Maccabeans, led by Mattathias’s son Judah. Executing guerrilla tactics, the combatants defeated the lumbering, slow Seleucid army. With the power of Greek gods decimated, eradicated, the Jewish people were again free to worship in their restored temple.
Herein lies the origins of Hanukkah. The miracle of light, the light that illuminates people and nations, would come back to the Temple.
Four kohanim sprung over stone steps leading to the Temple. Just inside the gate, they slowed to a standstill. Within the courtyard, like tumbleweeds rolling across Judean hills, aimless souls randomly wandered. Gone was the structure, the familiar movement of Jewish religious ceremony. The four stood. Two reached out, holding hands. One placed a hand on the other’s shoulder. Their faces had a common slight downturn of eyebrow, slight upturn of lip. They shared ambivalent thoughts – apprehensive and expectant. What remanence of foreign gods remain, lurking within the shadows of Temple corridors? Yet, Seleucid gods are merely inanimate stone, posing no threat. The Temple seems empty without the presence of Yahweh. Ah, the return of Yahweh to the Temple will restore a radiance to these halls.
With trepidations behind them, the four priests advanced toward the Altar of Sacrifice. The altar was 30 cubits by 30 cubits, or 20 feet by 20 feet. Stylized gourds rimmed the vessel, three oxen standing on each panel, horns perched upon altar corners. The bronze structure sat cold, chilled by unusually nippy 50-degree air hanging in the Chislev (December) day.
A swelling rage within the priests warmed the area. A statute of the Greek fire god Girra sat on the altar. Girra played a role in purification rituals. Rituals, the Seleucids bastard ritual are with this alien god. The Altar of Sacrifice, before the invasion, had been a true place of purification, of sacrifice, of blood spilled in atonement for sins within the tribes of Judah. Yet this Girra, they thought, this false god of fire, ironically brought a chill upon the altar. The priests grabbed and pulled upon the foreign stone, wrestling in down into rubble.
Nothing was more important than purification, restoration of the Temple. Nothing was more important than restoring a seat for Yahweh in the Temple. The priests changed course, enter a hall dimly lit with cloudy day diffused light lumbering through windows. All saw the muddled shape of a great seven-lamp menorah, its polygonal arms set upon a triangular base. The golden lamp itself a centerpiece on a rectangular stone altar, cruse of oil and columns chiseled into the front.
The menorah’s light must again shine. The flames represent Israel as a light unto the nations. The glow of ner tamid, or eternal light, projects Yahweh’ power. The light beams out an exhortation for man to rely on rely on that power. Upon Prophet Zechariah having a vision of the menorah, a heavenly messenger explained: "not by might, nor by power, but by My spirit."
Priests searched for pure, consecrated olive oil to burn within the lamps. They found only one cruse, with oil for one night. They needed oil for eight days. They could not produce that oil for another eight days. They lit the lamps. The light continued to radiate for eight days. The light of Yahweh had returned to the Temple!
Bryan Mackenzie Redden is serving 44 years to Life for the murder of a mother and her daughter. The two were killed after he had broken into their home to burglarize them while Redden was high. Redden is housed at Elmira Correctional Facility in New York and is eligible for parole in August 2061
Light Sentence, the play of the expression "life sentence", is one of Mona Hatoums first installations. It consits of units wich resemble "animal cages, such as you might see in a laboratory, or a poultry processing factory". The only source of light emanates from a single light bulb which multiplies the shadows of the lockers against the walls, exacerbating the sense of oppression and imprisonment.
Source: Centre Pompidou
Bryan Mackenzie Redden is serving 44 years to Life for the murder of a mother and her daughter. The two were killed after he had broken into their home to burglarize them while Redden was high. Redden is housed at Elmira Correctional Facility in New York and is eligible for parole in August 2061
Bryan Mackenzie Redden is serving 44 years to Life for the murder of a mother and her daughter. The two were killed after he had broken into their home to burglarize them while Redden was high. Redden is housed at Elmira Correctional Facility in New York and is eligible for parole in August 2061
Edward Shevlin stole a coat and was sentenced to 6 months in prison.
Age: 32
Height: 5.5
Hair: Brown
Eyes:Blue
Place of Birth: Ireland
Work: Labourer
Status: Married
These photographs are of convicted criminals in Newcastle between 1871 - 1873.
Reference:TWAS: PR.NC/6/1/1117
(Copyright) We're happy for you to share this digital image within the spirit of The Commons. Please cite 'Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums' when reusing. Certain restrictions on high quality reproductions and commercial use of the original physical version apply though; if you're unsure please email archives@twmuseums.org.uk.
To purchase a hi-res copy please email archives@twmuseums.org.uk quoting the title and reference number.
Bryan Mackenzie Redden is serving 44 years to Life for the murder of a mother and her daughter. The two were killed after he had broken into their home to burglarize them while Redden was high. Redden is housed at Elmira Correctional Facility in New York and is eligible for parole in August 2061
Where the Jewels Are.
A Prequel to
“An Odyssey Less Taken “ (Tallie)
An Escapade in 3 Acts…
Excerpts:
************
Act 1
The Mustard Seed is planted
***********
A couple is getting ready to leave for an apparently Fancy Dress Affair:
The wife cascades down the stairs swirling her silk dress for to catch her husband’s eye, which she does.
Blimey Bess, did you leave anything in ur Jewelry Casket, he chides with a satisfied smirk.
Casket, Luv? Really? I keep telling you what a morbid term that is, she scolds him , while she smiles radiantly ; fetchingly placing a hand to her husband’s cheek, then straightening the black bow tie of his tux.
Don’t be snide, I know you like it when I dress. Besides it’s not often we get to hob nob with near royalty. Beth said in justification of herself driving to the occasion dressed to the nines.
But Beth, Calling it a casket is an old term, and her husband starts to explain (not for the first time) the origin of the phrase ”jewele casket”
Hush child, Beth simpers, placing a finger to his lips, with a very becoming look in her eyes, save it for the students. She turns away and he slaps her lovingly upon her posterior. She giggles and heads back to the stairs.
The doorbell rings.
Beth stops and turns, looking at the door. Could you get that dear, looks like a postal package. I have to go upstairs to finish my hair, and to bury my casket, you old toad she tosses at him, making no attempt to hide in her voice the with undying affection she has for her husband, the love of her life.
He obediently goes to the door, where a man in uniform can be seen through the window, waiting with a package.
He turns, a lump rising in his throat as he eyeballs his pretty ( to him) wife Bess. The main reason is too catch another look at the pretty party dress swishing along her withdrawing figure ,but he also throws a teasing retort at her retreating back, . besides, casket It what me Mum called it luv…..
Turning away, he goes to open the door.
End Act 1
*******
Act 2
The Trolley Cometh
*******
Up on a hummock a large stone manor sits, dominating the landscape below.
A proper butler opens the Manor’s double doors and a stream of well gowned, ladies pour out. The many jewels they are wearing sparkling like some sort of jewel filled waterfall as they move heading down to where a quite ornate Trolley awaits them.
The whispering rustle of high end satin and the erupting glitter of colourfully flickering tiffany quality jewels, lighting up the dreary early morning as female members of the wedding party descend.
The bride is the last to come out into the early morning, stopping to survey the activity below , ever so a royal highness looking down on her subjects.
It was her idea to have her brides maids be driven out to her parents country estate before the dress rehearsal and have a photo grapher take shots of her party at various locations. Since the Groom and his Groomsmen were not allowed, by custom, to view the gowned bride before the ceremony, they were of course not invited. Nor was anyone else outside herself, the bridal party and the photo grapher. The rehearsal and dinner were to take place later that afternoon, and the bride and her party would be changing at the country estate. Towards that means they had already placed cases aboard the trolley containing their evening clothes and everyday jewelry that they would wear for the evenings festivities..
She preferred to be in control off all aspects of the situation. Needless to say, her wedding planner, waiting at the stone cathedral, had developed a migraine over the whole affair.
After a couple of group shots are arranged in front of the elegant trolley, the party is herded aboard by the tuxedoed trolley driver. He has their schedule to keep. He is helped by his pretty blonde wife, herself dressed shimmering, sparkling, as she expertly moves (herds?) the elegant ladies , escorting them cheerfully to their seats.
And with a lurch of the trolley on the old private road, the entire ultra-wealthy group set off on their pre nuptial adventure.
End Act 2
*******
The connection between acts 1 & 2, for those who haven’t figured it out, will be revealed in act 3.
Please comment if you’re going to stay tuned for the outcome
************
****************
This would be the 3rd and possibly final installment of the trilogy…..If you are interested in reading the storyline complete you may find it enlightening to visit Acts 1 and 2 (respectively) before proceeding any further.
Please consider leaving a comment behind that you have (read) the acts. It would be deeply appreciated.
Act 3(?)
After the Harvest
*******
The inspector arrives in his rather jaunty sports auto. He emerges with his Detective Sargent, approaching a waiting constable.
The constable’s partner, Archie, is inside with the police matron.
What do we have Constable? The inspector asks quizzically.
Apparently we have a husband and wife teem who own and drive a private rental trolley, that then decides to waylay and rob the entire wedding party they were hired to ferry about.
Way out here, in the middle of nowhere, Constable?
Appears they were going to the Brides summer home to be photographed. The trolley turned down the path to this old deserted manor where they were told there was engine trouble.
And they were robbed, by the driver and his wife you say Constable?
Them, and two others waiting.
4 robbers then,
Who called it in Constable?
Received an anonymous tip
And just what were they robbed of, Constable? The inspector asked, almost wearily.
Stripped of everything down to their bloody knickers, the lot of them. Then handcuffed and left.
Language Mate, the inspector chided his constable, looking at his Sargent, taking this all down?
Detective Sargent nods
Now, he said turning back to the Constable, Just why do you suppose they stripped them of their clothes.
The gowns were worth L3000 pounds each, real emeralds, the brides was worth double that, with real diamonds
So they were robbed for their expensive clothes, then eh Sargent, the inspector leered.
No Sir that was not all the lot were after.
The Bride was wearing diamond jewelry worth L100,000 pounds easy, the rest of the girls were wearing matching emeralds sets that the bride paid L32,000 pounds each.
Each, The inspector arched an eyebrow.
Each of the Bridesmaids, inspector, answered the ridden constable.
That’s a great amount of information constable. Just how did you acquire it.
The bride sir, she won’t stop squawking on about it. answered the Constable
Careful how you talk about your betters, constable, the inspector winked at him.
I’m sure the young lady in question has every right to squawk.
So let me get this straight constable, a bridal party was Shanghaied and robbed of their possessions by their trolley driver, his wife and two other associates. Then someone cordially calls the station to let us in on the joke?
Right sir, no joke though
Then why did they leave their trolley here, for evidence against them?
Asked the Inspector, before turning to his Detective Sargent.
Sergeant. send a man down to the drivers abode, the information should be acquired from the registration from the plates they so handily left.
The Constable cleared his throat, actually my partner Archie already called it in Sir.
The inspector raised an eyebrow, Glad to see someone is on the ball.
The police radio crackles, the constable goes to answer it.
He comes back, standing smartly at attention.
Just received a call, they found the husband and wife tied up in their basement.
Apparently two men posing as a postal worker and driver held them up.
The ones who robbed the bride and her party? Constable?
No sir, apparently the two who brought them here were imposters.
The real uns were held them up at gunpoint, made to strip to their underthings and tied up.
Then Two others, man and woman, took the Trolly to the Manor to “pick up” the Bride and her Bridesmaids.
Has a statement been taken? Yes sir, but there is not much.
Thieves were disguised as postal workers. House was ransacked, safe looted, wife jewel case cleaned out, the usual.
After burgling their manor, the occupants were stripped to their skivvies, trussed up and locked in their basement cannery.
Then a call came in on their telephone, the thieves answered it. After they hung up, the husband heard their phone used to call us, and heard the two thieves leave..
Was anything said by the thieves?
They only overheard the one thing, something one of the postage men said.
Thief posing as one, right constable, don’t want to give anyone a bad rep
Yes sir,
it appears that when the thief - wearing the postman’s costume- answered the phone, he repeated a phrase.
And what would that phrase have been, constable?
Mustard Seed,
Mustard seed? Eh.
Sergeant, the inspector turned to his detective sergeant. That begs the question, why Mustard seed?
The Detective Sergeant mulled it over for a minute. Then offered:
Seed, could be seed money, mustards grow from a small seed into something quite large. This robbery was seed money for something bigger, possibly, sir?
Not bad Sargent, will make an inspector of you yet.
The inspector turns back to the constable, who has had just about enough of his superiors questions.
He is relieved to now hear what the inspector has to say.
Constable, stand pat here while my sergeant and I have a chat with our victims inside,
The inspector turned to his Detective Sergeant :
Let’s get this lot sorted out, and then will we’ll head over and see about the driver and his wife…
The two made their way up towards the decaying deserted manor house.
The Constable, watching them disappear inside, mutters under his breath.
That is an awfully big haul just for seed money. I would be happy with what that lot will get for what they stole. I bet the old man is off target on this one. Thieves probably will be out of the country with the loot and have it pawned in the states by the time he gets done with his questions.
The constable was closer to the truth than he realized…..
Originally the gang planning the heist had meant to carry out the caper then head off to parts unknown with the loot and lay low. During planning the stages of the heist, one of their members infiltrated the group to garner information. Remarks were interestingly overheard by chatting bridesmaids about a lavish affair being staged a fortnight away (only one week after the rehearsal dinner).
From the “seed” planted by that helpful bit of overheard gossip, grew the new job the group was now going to carry out very shortly .
Mustard seed become its code name.
End of Act 3
*****************
In addendum
Now we break away from the crime scene to visit an occurrence that took place some two hours prior to the phone call that alerted the police to the unfortunate incident related above.
The scene: Inside a C. Hoare & Co branch, in a posh end of London..
Two ladies, both, opulently dressed in satins and jewels, their thick fur coats have been carefully hung by a smartly dressed lady porter, nearby, had been seated and served. The pair are now alone in a richly furnished private room of the bank. Wine at hand, they are merrily going through a collection of jewelry glistening from an open safe deposit strongbox brought up from the depths of the banks’ vault.
The fashionable, long haired daughter is half-heartedly trying on one of several jewel encrusted Tiaras…… Her stylish, bobbed haired mother is admiring the sparkle of a diamond waterfall style necklace; the pricy jewels’ matching mates, (earrings and bracelets and brooch) are laid out next to her.
The daughter suddenly lest out a squeal of delight as she spy’s a small sparkling ruby and emerald encrusted diamond cocktail ring , which she grabs and slips on her pinky. She admires the raw, rainbow like fireworks as she moves it under the lights.
Mum, can I? it will go ever so nicely with the gown I’m wearing to Polly’s Soiree.
Hey, that was my Great Aunts , her Mother yelps grasping at the ring. Almost looking like Defoe’s Sunday dressed Moll Flanders snatching at the colourful trinket worn by a young miss, awed by the passing parade of royals.
Unlike that distracted young miss, however, the daughter was able to hold the ring high from the reach of Her mother’s fingertips, giggling as she did so.
Now Millicent, her mother lectured, You know we don’t approve of young Lady Pollyanna’s fancy boy, Raul. He would probably manage a way to slip the ring from off your finger.
Oh, MaMa, , answered Millicent, I’ll be ever so careful, and please don’t you harp on poor Raul. He really is quite a dear, and the pearls were simply lost, nothing more. Let me wear the ring, and I’ll wear whatever jewelry you pick out for me the weekend, Sagely bargained Millicent.
Promise? Her mother asks, relenting in to her daughter’s wishes. It’s just that we don’t you making publicity over getting robbed just before your occasion.
Mum, Millicent says soothingly, nothing will happen to me before my Debs Ball, or occasion as you will call it. She bent over and kissed her mother on the forehead, before going back to her admiration of the pretty ring.
But innocently enough, pretty Millicent has no idea of the prophetic canniness her naively made promise to her mother would soon foretell.
To be continued….
Please see:
Album entitled “Tallie”
For the main story of what the mustard seed turned out to grow into…..
*********************************************************************************
Riding Hood & Bad Wolf - Issue #3 "Shoot the Messenger"*
In the past...
The man thought they were his, an old hookup of his that had consequences. He felt obligated to take them in out of the cold, maybe it was the alcohol messing with his head again. The bitter resentment made him regret taking them in, but nevertheless he raised them anyway. Once the boy said his first word he would become independent, watched the TV in the background through the stairs banister, sneaked into school, listened to phone calls. He even named himself and his little sister...
________________________________________________________________
Riding Hood: "Followed? By who?"
*RH draws his pistols looking at the door. Bad Wolf shrugs smelling the air cautiously as he gets to his paws standing in front of RH who peeks under his armpit at the door. Suddenly a white blur shakes through the it vibrating intensely. RH fires his pistols at the blur only to see it speed away past them.*
Riding Hood: "Oh F me in the A. It's a Spe-"
*Before RH can finish his sentence the figure zooms past RH striking him across his jaw making him stagger back against BW who swipes at the empty air with his huge paw*
Riding Hood: "As I was saying! It's a Speedster."
Bad Wolf: *Growls* "I hate them."
Riding Hood: "Yeah they cheat at cards, trust me."
*The white blur circles them like a tornado speeding around, drawing the oxygen out from their lungs. RH knows this trick though, he nods at BW who has a mutual understanding of what to do. BW holds out his paw and RH fires a round between his claws, the blur slows down ever so slightly avoiding the oversized paw only to be shot in the shoulder by the hidden gun. A bright red patch stains the blur as it comes to a skidding halt against the wall dropping on its hands and knees.*
Riding Hood: "Yeah take that speedy!"
*RH grins under his visor as he aims his pistols at the White costumed figure who groans clutching his shoulder trying to get up. RH's pistols auto-lock onto the target just in case he decides to speed away this time. He's about to shoot until BW holds out his furry arm looking down at RH.*
Bad Wolf: "Wait... that's E-Race. He's a hero."
Riding Hood: "Who cares?! Last time I checked we were villains."
*E-Race quickly gets to his feet, his injury fully healed. RH mutters a curse but sees that E-Race is standing still. RH laughs to himself how easy killing him is going to be but BW steps in front of him gently nudging RH's pistols down. He grits his teeth angrily lowering them down.*
Riding Hood: "What?!"
Bad Wolf: "I don't think he wants a fight."
E-Race: "You're friend is right, I've come to warn you both. A source of mine is saying that a team called the 'Convicted 5' are after you, they want blood. Mainly Riding Hood's."
*RH snorts and rolls his eyes under his visor*
Riding Hood: "Tell them to get in line."
E-Race: "These guys are serious though. All psycho's and sociopaths. It would be wise if you just surrendered and came to A.N.G.E.L. to face punishment and avoid them."
*BW looks down at RH meeting his gaze, silently agreeing to surrender, RH cocks his head gripping his pistols*
Riding Hood: "Seriously?! No. We've handled worse. Sorry hero, why not just try and take us in yourself?"
E-Race: "That's what worries me. All heroes have been told not to engage with you both if seen, just to report back about the location."
Bad Wolf: "Which is what you have already done."
Riding Hood: "And are now saying this to stall us."
*E-Race's eyes widen through his mask at how fast they both caught on. RH aims his pistols at E-Race who phase shifts through the wall he's pressed against and winks leaving them both alone. RH fires his guns at the wall in a rage.*
Riding Hood: "Son of a bi-"
Bad Wolf: "RH, language."
Riding Hood: "I was going to say biscuit, jeez!"
*Bad Wolf sniffs the air raising his head and snarls pouncing at RH, he uses his whole body to shield him as the door suddenly flies off its hinges smashing off BW's shoulder. He turns his head growling and stands helping RH gets to his feet. They both look at the doorless entrance, a white bunny suited figure stands there swinging his sledgehammer around giggling crazily*
Riding Hood: "Can nobody use doors?!"
Thousands rallied in London as well as other UK cities to demonstrate against a law being passed by Britain's parliament that would effectively outlaw many protests, increase penalties for certain types of demonstration such as blocking roads and give the police far greater powers to stop, search and arrest.
If the measures contained in the government's Police, Crime, Sentencing & Courts (PCSC) Bill had been in place over the last hundred years they may have prevented the suffragette protests of the 1920s, the marches and rallies for greater welfare support in the 1930s, the black civil rights and anti-Vietnam protests of the 1960s, the early gay pride gatherings in the 1970s, the anti-apartheid protests of the 1980s, the occupation of key locations by the Occupy movement and the more recent climate strikes.
The PCSC bill will give the police new powers to ban demonstrations deemed likely to be too noisy or a nuisance to a neighbourhood, to stop and search people without having to prove reasonable suspicion, new powers against 'unauthorised encampments' which travellers fear may be used against their communities and it would also make it illegal for protesters to lock themselves on to objects. The lock on strategy having been used successfully by activists defending the environment and protesting Britain's arms trade.
The bill proposes to increase the maximum prison sentence for someone who destroys a memorial or statue from 3 months to 10 years and It would also mean sentences of up to 10 years for a new crime of causing "serious annoyance." The cumulative impact of the draconian new powers, if enacted, could mean that most meaningful forms of effective protest would be outlawed.
There were many activists at the London rally from communities fearing they could be disproportionately targeted as a result including those supporting the Black Lives Matter movement.
I took two of my sisters into my room to make page poems......But they didn't quite understand, so we decided to do "funny spages" instead.
Left to Right: 8 year old, me, 9 year-old
............................................Here's what they say........................................
8 year old: "I say a box on the red waves in a man french and french'
Me: "My dinner got to be the receptionist. The paperwork lingered across my table. She refused a ride, but seemed restless. I'd regret making dinner. We talked, she'd had enough conversation. But I quiver when she switched of my music..
9 year-old : One day our class had a party. Graciously all of us bumped into his barreled rib cage.
Stay Safe, Eat Donuts(╭☞⌐■◞ ■)╭☞
Challenge-Complete the Sentence 4
Owner : haychcdee
Artwork by me.
Link to Challenge : www.flickr.com/groups/3940040@N21/discuss/721577219215898...
I was allowed out of the cuffs to read a short statement in court. But as soon as I finished, the cuffs went on again. So I stood there shackled to learn my sentence: 60 more days in jail.
Lisa Buttmonkey (Jasmine0Alaya)
Chilean Rose: ‘Sentence first — verdict afterwards.’, 2018
Staged inSL™, color rebalanced in Lightroom CC
3300 × 6000
Taken at my installation, Out of the Looking Glass|Into the Madness.
Main entrence: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Fender/33/204/297
I was allowed out of the cuffs to read a short statement in court. But as soon as I finished, the cuffs went on again. So I stood there shackled to learn my sentence: 60 more days in jail.
Let this little sentence be continually before the eyes of our minds!
Let it check us when we are ready to murmur at earthly trials.
Let it strengthen us when we are tempted to deny our Master on account of persecution.
Let it caution us when we begin to think too much of the things of this world.
Let it quicken us when we are disposed to look back, like Lot's wife.
In all such seasons, let the words of our Lord ring in our ears like a trumpet, and bring us to a right mind! "Only one thing is needed!"
If Christ is ours — then we have all and abound!
Out of this sentence, I created a picture in my mind and made it into reality.
Everybody starts from the bottom, with years of practice, trial and error, helps them focus on their game.
Attitude and perseverance take you up to the victory.
Look at the picture and see how I created an arrow with light to express the journey from “Focus To Victory”.
Jane Farrell stole 2 boots and was sentenced to do 10 hard days labour.
Age (on discharge): 12
Height: 4.2
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue
Place of Birth: Newcastle
Married or single: Single
These photographs are of convicted criminals in Newcastle between 1871 - 1873.
Reference: TWAS: PR.NC/6/1/1090
(Copyright) We're happy for you to share this digital image within the spirit of The Commons. Please cite 'Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums' when reusing. Certain restrictions on high quality reproductions and commercial use of the original physical version apply though; if you're unsure please email archives@twmuseums.org.uk.
To purchase a hi-res copy please email archives@twmuseums.org.uk quoting the title and reference number.
Mr. Ideal does his best to teach Bobby how to be a cool cat. With the radio tuned into the latest hits the scene was set.
Mr. Ideal: Here comes a young lady now. Remember to play it cool and casual. Follow my lead.
Bobby: Yep. *Swallowing hard*
Mr. Ideal: Why hello miss Carol. Lovely day for a walk isn't it?
Bobby: ..Supple..
Carol: Hello Mr. Ideal, simply divine. Hello Bobby. *Giggle*
-- Carol walks on.--
Mr. Ideal: Well done lad. Next time you might even form an actual sentence. But why of all the words in the dictionary would you choose to say "supple"?
Bobby: I tried to say -what's up, but panicked. I will never get the hang of it sir. She giggled!
Mr. Ideal: Cheer up! You can't have the girl without the giggle.
________________
Mr. Ideal is wearing his crisp, new outfit made by Du Didier. I love this shirt and pressed denims with real pockets.
______________________
Carol - 'Fashion Girl' Sindy 1968 Pedigree UK
Douglas Ideal - as himself, Tammy's dad 1963 Ideal Toys US
Bobby Bartlett - Vintage Evergreen 1312 clone doll made in Hong Kong in the 60s.
sentenced to Life as a pony
Visit this location at DoomsDay Designs & Moonlight Stables in Second Life
They carry me far away. The glows of light and a loud noise wake me up...
''To reach the other one you'll have to wait''.
Maybe one of these days they'll get out....
Thanks for looking!
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www.youtube.com/watch?v=RAoKcM54Q1Y
The Sin And The Sentence
Trivium
I heard the passing bells calling out my name
I knew I'd never see another day
I couldn't swim against the tides of blame
I knew there was no other way
You better practice your lines
You better practice your words
I know that real monsters lie
Between the light and the shade
It doesn't matter what you say or feel
When honest men become deranged, they'll genuflect to a lie
The sin and the sentence
Penance in the fire (to a lie)
The sin and the sentence
The plagues grip your throat (they'll genuflect to a lie)
The sin and the sentence
Penance in the fire (to a lie)
The sin and the sentence
The plagues grip your throat (they'll genuflect to a lie)
I saw the dagger eyes staring back at me
I knew I'd never have a chance to bleed
Guilty, but in the sight of fallen men
They bury you before you speak (the sin and the sentence)
You better practice your lies
You better practice your words
I know that real monsters lie
Between the light and the shade
It doesn't matter what you say or feel
When honest men become deranged, they'll genuflect to a lie
The sin and the sentence
Penance in the fire (to a lie)
The sin and the sentence
The plagues grip your throat (they'll genuflect to a lie)
The sin and the sentence
Penance in the fire (To a lie)
The sin and the sentence
The plagues grip your throat (They'll genuflect to a lie)
Beware those who speak in tongues
For they may call your name
You condemn me
'Cause you don't understand me
You condemn me
'Cause you don't understand me
They'll genuflect to a lie
The sin and the sentence
Penance in the fire (To a lie)
The sin and the sentence
The plagues grip your throat (They'll genuflect to a lie)
The sin and the sentence
Penance in the fire (To a lie)
The sin and the sentence
The plagues grip your throat (They'll genuflect to a lie)
Beware those who speak in tongues
For they may call your name
You condemn me
'Cause you don't understand me
You condemn me
'Cause you don't understand me
You condemn me
'Cause you don't understand me
You condemn me
'Cause you don't understand me
Fuck!
The sin and the sentence
Penance in the fire
The sin and the sentence
The plagues grip your throat
The sentence ROSE IS A ROSE IS A ROSE IS A ROSE was written by Gertrude Stein as part of the 1913 poem Sacred Emily, which appeared in the 1922 book Geography and Plays. In that poem, the first ROSE is the name of a person. Stein later used variations on the sentence in other writings, and A ROSE IS ROSE IS A ROSE is probably her most famous quote, often interpreted as meaning THINGS ARE WHAT THEY ARE, a statement of the law of identity, A IS A. In Stein's view, the sentence expresses the fact that simply using the name of a thing already invokes the imagery and emotions associated with it. As the quote diffused through her own writing, and the culture at large, Stein once remarked NOS LISTEN! I'M NO FOOL. I KNOW THAT IN DAILY LIFE WE DON'T GO AROUND SAYING IS A... IS A...IS A... YES, I'M NO FOOL; BUT THINK THAT LINE THE ROSE IS RED FOR THE FIRST TIME IN ENGLISH POETRY FOR A HUNDRED YEARS. (Four in America).
Gertrude Stein's repetitive language can be said to refer to the changing quality of language in time and history. She herself said to an audience at Oxford University that the statement referred to the fact that when the Romantics used the word ROSE it had a direct relationship to an actual rose. For later periods in literature this would no longer be true. The eras following romanticism, notably the modern era, use the word rose to refer to the actual rose, yet they also imply, through the use of the word, the archetypical elements of the romantic era. It also follows the rhetoric law of thricefold repetition to emphasize a point, as can be seen in speeches dating back to the sophists.
Sentenced to death.
Sony NEX-5N with Minolta Rokkor 100mm f3.5 with extension tube. Bug chose to participate of his own will and foolishness.
mixed media on paper. ca. 30 x 40 cm.
www.saatchiart.com/art/Collage-forming-sentences/703169/2...
Sätze bilden.
Mischtechnik auf Papier. ca. 30 x 40 cm.
Start this sentence…
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