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With in a few moments I was knocking on the boy’s apartment door, I wasn’t sure who to expect at the door his mom, his dad? Instead I got quite a surprise it was Michael himself who answered the door.
“Hey Kiddo!”
“You! You’re the Flash!”
“Last I checked! Is it alright if I come in!”
“Yes yes please!”
The boy allows me into his apartment and shuts the door behind him. He ushers me to the couch and begins asking me all sorts of questions. First off he asks me why I’m here, an ample question. I bounce it off quickly and ask him what he’s doing on his own. Apparently his Mom is a nurse and has been doing double shifts for the last week covering for people who are on vacation at the Gotham General. He asks more questions such as what’s it like to hang out with Superman and Wonder Woman, can Hal truly make anything by thinking about it? Is Bruce really a vampire? You name it this kid asked me, but through all of this I couldn’t help but notice the key piece of evidence that proves the boys innocence. His arms were cut less. He wasn’t our criminal. Thank goodness. Now it’s just a case of waiting for Bruce to turn up whenever that bat-mobile of his finally manages to achieve more than third gear, but given how Michael feels about the League I decided I would have a little fun with Bruce….
Five minutes later Bruce arrives and Michael is just as excited to see him as he was to see me.
“Told you he’d come.”
“OH MY GOD IT’S YOU! YOU’RE BATMAN!”
I give Barry a glare. What has he just led me into?
“Yes. I am.”
“Wow no-one is going to believe tomorrow when I tell them! Can I have your autograph?”
“No. Now tell me. Where are they?”
“Where are who?”
“The girls.”
“What girls?”
“The girls you’ve abducted! Where are they!”
“I don’t know any girls!”
Bruce grabs hold of Michael and pins him against the wall. I swiftly race up and grab hold of Bruce’s right arm ready to stop him if I need to.
“Batman put him down.”
“Stay out of this Flash. I’ll show you how you get scum like this to talk.”
“No! Look at his arms!”
I notice Bruce inspecting the arms and it’s clear of his face the moment he recognizes that the boy is injury free. It can’t be him. Almost immediately Bruce puts him down in a very somber tone. Bruce now seems confused by all this.
“But that doesn’t make sense. It has to be you.”
“It isn’t! Look at me! I struggle to hold a baseball bat let alone carry away a sixteen-year-old girl against her own will! Anyone of them would easily walk all over me! In fact they did…”
Hearing those words my face quickly changes. At first I was pulling a smug facial expression that I knew Bruce could see, but upon hearing that Michael was bullied I quickly changed it to a more comforting face.
“What?”
“Those girls. The ones that have been abducted. All of them bullied me at school at some point.”
“How come?”
“My skin is like paper. It cuts easily and thanks to my von Willebrand disease I spurt out a lot more blood than a normal teen would. At each school I’d accidentally get cut and bleed non-stop and I ended up freaking out most of the girls because I wouldn’t’ stop bleeding. “
“Go on.” Bruce says as he moves into a corner of the room, clearly backing away to keep Michael at ease especially after what just happened.
“Well after that the girls took to mocking me because I couldn’t help it. I got called all sorts of names. Blood-river. Aquaman’s period. Super-squirt. You name it I got called it.”
“That’s terrible. How did you deal with it?”
“I didn’t. My Mom ended up just moving me from school to school but it kept happening over and over again.”
“Where is your Mother? I’d of thought she’d of woken up by now.” Bruce again says from the corner, he sure does like to keep himself hidden in the shadows or as best as he can.
“She’s had to work late nights this week. Says she’s covering for someone who’s on vacation at work. She says she blames herself for my von Willebrand disease. Apparently I inherited it from her.”
At the moment Michael said that, I saw headlights pull up in the parking lot of the apartment complex, and there’s no doubt Bruce saw it. Bruce makes sure he sees everything, not to mention the headlight shone on his corner exposing him so it would have been difficult for him to not notice. Sure enough out of the car emerged Michaels Mother who entered the apartment to a big surprise to see myself and Bruce stood before her.
“Michael sweety, what’s going on?”
“Mom this is Batman and the Flash, they’re investigating the disappearance of some of the girls that have been picking on me.”
“What? Why would someone do such a thing?”
I couldn’t help but notice the bandage on the Mothers left arm, it had blood stained on it implying that it was a cut from tonight. As much I hoped it wasn’t what I feared it was painfully clear.
“I think we should be asking you, Mrs Harlot.” I said, breaking the Mother-son conversation.
“What do you mean?”
“Your bandage. You wouldn’t of happened to of cut yourself on a piece of glass from a window by chance?”
Her facial expression takes a quick turn. Originally she had been pulling a smile, a face smile really but a smile all the same, but now her face quickly turned to one of worry. She knew we’d rumbled her. Immediately she made a run for the door but I blocked it before she could make it. Then from out of her handbag she pulls some form of needle and attempts to stab her. Dang she’s crazy, not to mention a bit stupid. I’m not called the fastest man alive for a reason and I dodge every swipe she makes. Before I can retaliate though Bruce pulls her towards him using one of his gadgets and knocks the needle of her hand and restrains both her arms.
I go to comfort Michael, as I know what Bruce is about to do and he’s not going to like it.
“The girls. Where are they?”
“Mom what have you done?”
“I did it for you Michael. To punish them for what they did to you. AHHHHH!”
Evidently Bruce just increased the pressure on her left arm. I feel Michael want to race to his Mom, I choose to restrain him. The last thing you want to do is go in there when Bruce is this angry. It’s not pretty.
“The girls. Where are they.”
“I won’t talk. Those whores deserve to die for what they did to my Michael. ARHHHHH!”
“ARRRRHHHH”
“Mom!”
All this screaming is making Michael cry because of the pain his Mom is feeling. I feel incredibly uncomfortable. What would I do if it were my Mom that Bruce was doing this to?
“Batman. That’s enough.”
“Not until she talks.”
“Mom!”
“ARRRRRHHHHH”
“Stop it please you’re hurting her! Please!”
This is no good, and it’s doing nothing but upsetting the boy. I race in and grab Bruce’s arm.
“Batman that’s enough. You’ve gone too far.”
Bruce doesn’t release her from his grasp but he stops putting pressure on her wound to stop the screaming. This seems to comfort Michael if only slightly.
“Mom please tell it isn’t true.”
There is a long silent pause.
“Mom please!”
“I did it for you Michael.”
“No!”
Michael breaks down into tears again at the realization of what his Mom has done. Poor kid. I’d feel the same way if it were my Mom in that position.
“It’s alright Michael. It’s all going to be ok.” I say as I try to comfort him
“Where are the girls.” Growls Bruce.
Still she chooses remains quiet. Distraught by this Michael stands up and walks towards his Mom and looks her square in the eyes.
“Mom. Where are they.”
“…..”
“Mom please. Where are they?”
“In the hell they deserve to be.”
“Please Mom, I know you’re not like this. Where are they?”
He’s starting to cry, I walk up behind him and put my hand on his shoulder to comfort him.
“Dixon Docks. Warehouse 24. Basement.”
Bruce and I nod at each other. Not a word is spoken but we know what everyone’s role is. Oddly though you would expect that I would have been the one to race to Dixon Docks and find the girls, but in this time it’s the opposite. Bruce races out of the apartment heading for Dixon Docks, clearly even though the League isn’t together some of the Leagues rule are being enforced notably rule number 1.
Rule 1 being that when it comes to comforting someone any Leaguer must do it besides Batman especially when the League was saving residents from a hurricane in North Carolina. People lost their homes in a horrific catastrophe and all Bruce could do was say that if they’d built their houses better this wouldn’t of happened so it was all their fault. Not the image the league wanted to portray.
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Written by - Chris A.K.A. Supremedalekdunn
This is a collab between Chris and I. Please go check out his point of view by clicking that link in the description.
Will Batman be able to save the girls before something happens?
Find out next tomorrow!
Same Bat time.
Same Bat photostream... or you could just look at his stream if you want... or you could look at both... it's your choice really...
are not found in Nessie's tail....
a novel about identity...strange and fascinating....much to think about
Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer
[Dalai Lama]
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Copyright@Ana Omelete
ATTENTION!!
INTERESTED ON MY PHOTOS?
No images may be copied, transmitted, published, stored, reproduced, altered, or copy in any way without written permission by me.
CONTACT: omeletez@gmail.com
To answer this question, we must stop examining the supply side of the equation, and instead look to the demanders.
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.......***** All images are copyrighted by their respective authors ......
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... message header for Rolling Stones Politics
The problems are many. Too many. Our eyes get fixed upon one among them, and our passions get devoted to fixing that one. In that focus, however, we fail to see the thread that ties them all together.
We are, to steal from Thoreau, the “thousand[s] hacking at the branches of evil,” with “[n]one striking at the root.”
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.....item 1).... Rolling Stone Politics .... www.rollingstone.com/politics ... Lawrence Lessig on How We Lost Our Democracy
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'Republic, Lost: How Money Corrupts Congress – and a Plan to Stop It' by Lawrence Lessig
Courtesy of Twelve/Hachette Book Group
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POSTED: October 5, 3:25 PM ET | By Lawrence Lessig
www.rollingstone.com/politics/blogs/national-affairs/lawr...
The following is an excerpt from Republic, Lost: How Money Corrupts Congress – and a Plan to Stop It by Lawrence Lessig.
Introduction
There is a feeling today among too many Americans that we might not make it. Not that the end is near, or that doom is around the corner, but that a distinctly American feeling of inevitability, of greatness—culturally, economically, politically—is gone. That we have become Britain. Or Rome. Or Greece. A generation ago Ronald Reagan rallied the nation to deny a similar charge: Jimmy Carter’s worry that our nation had fallen into a state of “malaise.” I was one of those so rallied, and I still believe that Reagan was right. But the feeling I am talking about today is different: not that we, as a people, have lost anything of our potential, but that we, as a republic, have. That our capacity for governing—the product, in part, of a Constitution we have revered for more than two centuries—has come to an end. That the thing that we were once most proud of—this, our republic—is the one thing that we have all learned to ignore. Government is an embarrassment. It has lost the capacity to make the most essential decisions. And slowly it begins to dawn upon us: a ship that can’t be steered is a ship that will sink.
We didn’t always feel this way. There were times when we were genuinely proud—as a people, and as a republic—and when we proudly boasted to the world about the Framers’ (flawed but still) ingenious design. No doubt, we still speak of the founding with reverence. But we seem to miss that the mess that is our government today grew out of the genius that the Framers crafted two centuries ago. That, however much we condemn what government has become, we forget it is the heir to something we still believe divine. We inherited an extraordinary estate. On our watch, we have let it fall to ruin.
The clue that something is very wrong is the endless list of troubles that sit on our collective plate but that never get resolved: bloated and inefficient bureaucracies; an invisible climate policy; a tax code that would embarrass Dickens; health care policies that have little to do with health; regulations designed to protect inefficiency; environmental policies that exempt the producers of the greatest environmental harms; food that is too expensive (since protected); food that is unsafe (since unregulated); a financial system that has already caused great harm, has been left unreformed, and is primed and certain to cause great harm again.
The problems are many. Too many. Our eyes get fixed upon one among them, and our passions get devoted to fixing that one. In that focus, however, we fail to see the thread that ties them all together.
We are, to steal from Thoreau, the “thousand[s] hacking at the branches of evil,” with “[n]one striking at the root.”
This book names that root. It aims to inspire “rootstrikers.” The root—not the single cause of everything that ails us, not the one reform that would make democracy hum, but instead, the root, the thing that feeds the other ills, and the thing that we must kill first. The cure that would be generative—the single, if impossibly difficult, intervention that would give us the chance to repair the rest.
For we have no choice but to try to repair the rest. Republicans and Democrats alike insist we are on a collision course with history. Our government has made fiscal promises it cannot keep. Yet we ignore them. Our planet spins furiously to a radically changed climate, certain to impose catastrophic costs on a huge portion of the world’s population. We ignore this, too. Everything our government -touches—from health care to Social Security to the monopoly rights we call patents and copyright—it poisons. Yet our leaders seem oblivious to the thought that there’s anything that needs fixing. They preen about, ignoring the elephant in the room. They act as if Ben Franklin would be proud.
Ben Franklin would weep. The republic that he helped birth is lost. The 89 percent of Americans who have no confidence in Congress (as reported by the latest Gallup poll) are not idiots. They are not even wrong. Yet they fail to recognize just why this government doesn’t deserve our confidence. Most of us get distracted. Most of us ignore the root.
We were here at least once before.
One hundred years ago America had an extraordinary political choice. The election of 1912 gave voters an unprecedented range of candidates for president of the United States.
On the far Right was the “stand pat,” first-term Republican William Howard Taft, who had served as Teddy Roosevelt’s secretary of war, but who had not carried forward the revolution on the Right that Roosevelt thought he had started.
On the far Left was the most successful socialist candidate for president in American history, Eugene Debs, who had run for president twice before, and who would run again, from prison, in 1920 and win the largest popular vote that any socialist has ever received in a national American election.
In the middle were two “Progressives”: the immensely popular former president Teddy Roosevelt, who had imposed upon himself a two-term limit, but then found the ideals of reform that he had launched languishing within the Republican Party; and New Jersey’s governor and former Princeton University president Woodrow Wilson, who promised the political machine–-bound Democratic Party the kind of reform that Roosevelt had begun within the Republican Party.
These two self-described Progressives were very different. Roosevelt was a big-government reformer. Wilson, at least before the First World War, was a small-government, pro-federalist reformer. Each saw the same overwhelming threat to America’s democracy—the capture of government by powerful special interests—even if each envisioned a very different remedy for that capture. Roosevelt wanted a government large enough to match the concentrated economic power that was then growing in America; Wilson, following Louis Brandeis, wanted stronger laws limiting the size of the concentrated economic power then growing in America.
Presidential reelection campaigns are not supposed to be bloody political battles. But Taft had proven himself to be a particularly inept politician (he was later a much better chief justice of the Supreme Court), and after Roosevelt’s term ended, business interests had reasserted their dominant control of the Republican Party. Yet even though dissent was growing across the political spectrum, few seemed to doubt that the president would be reelected. Certainly Roosevelt felt certain enough of that to delay any suggestion that he would enter the race to challenge his own hand-picked successor.
A Wisconsin Republican changed all that. In January 1911, Senator Robert La Follette and his followers launched the National Progressive Republican League. Soon after, La Follette announced his own campaign for the presidency. Declaring that “popular government in America has been thwarted . . . by the special interests,” the League advocated five core reforms, all of which attacked problems of process, not substance. The first four demanded changes to strengthen popular control of government (the election of senators, direct primaries, direct election of delegates to presidential conventions, and the spread of the state initiative process). The last reform demanded “a thoroughgoing corrupt practices act.”
La Follette’s campaign initially drew excitement and important support. It faltered, however, when he seemed to suffer a mental breakdown during a speech at a press dinner in Philadelphia. But the campaign outed, and increasingly embarrassed, the “stand pat” Republicans. As Roosevelt would charge in April 1912:
The Republican party is now facing a great crisis. It is to decide whether it will be, as in the days of Lincoln, the party of the plain people, the party of progress, the party of social and industrial justice; or whether it will be the party of privilege and of special interests, the heir to those who were Lincoln’s most bitter opponents, the party that represents the great interests within and without Wall Street which desire through their control over the servants of the public to be kept immune from punishment when they do wrong and to be given privileges to which they are not entitled.
The term progressive is a confused and much misunderstood moniker for perhaps the most important political movement at the turn of the last century. We confuse it today with liberals, but back then there were progressives of every political stripe in America—on the Left and on the Right, and with dimensional spins in the middle (the Prohibitionists, for example). Yet one common thread that united these different strands of reform was the recognition that democratic government in America had been captured. Journalists and writers at the turn of the twentieth century taught America “that business corrupts politics,” as Richard McCormick put it. Corruption of the grossest forms—the sort that would make convicted lobbyist Jack Abramoff wince—was increasingly seen to be the norm throughout too much of American government. Democracy, as in rule of the people, was a joke. As historian George Thayer wrote, describing the “golden age of boodle” (1876–-1926): “Never has the American political process been so corrupt. No office was too high to purchase, no man too pure to bribe, no principle too sacred to destroy, no law too fundamental to break.”
Or again, Teddy Roosevelt (1910): “Exactly as the special interests of cotton and slavery threatened our political integrity before the Civil War, so now the great special business interests too often control and corrupt the men and methods of government for their own profit.”
To respond to this “corruption,” Progressives launched a series of reforms to reclaim government. Many of these reforms were hopeless disasters (the ballot initiative and elected judges), and some were both disasters and evil (Prohibition and eugenics, to name just two). But mistakes notwithstanding, the Progressive Era represents an unprecedented moment of experimentation and engagement, all motivated by a common recognition that the idea of popular sovereignty in America had been sold. The problem was not, as McCormick describes, a “product of misbehavior by ‘bad’ men,” but was instead now seen as the predictable “outcome of identifiable economic and political forces.”
That recognition manifested itself powerfully on November 5, 1912: The incumbent Republican placed third (23.2 percent) in the -four--man race; the socialist, a distant fourth (6 percent); and Teddy Roosevelt (27.4 percent) got bested by the “new” Democrat, Woodrow Wilson (41.8 percent).
Yet only when you add together these two self-identified Pro-gressives do you get a clear sense of the significance of 1912: almost 70 percent of America had voted for a “progressive.” Seventy percent of America had said, “This democracy is corrupted; we demand it be fixed.” Seventy percent refused to “stand pat.”
A century later we suffer the same struggle, but without anything like the same clarity. A “fierce discontent,” as Roosevelt described America in 1906, is once again raging throughout the republic. Now, as then, it gets expressed as “agitation” against “evil,” and a “firm determination to punish the authors of evil, whether in industry or politics.” We look to a collapsed economy, to raging deficits, to a Wall Street not yet held to account, and we feel entitled to our anger. And so extreme is that entitlement that it makes even violence seem sensible, if only to the predictably insane extremes in any modern society.
Roosevelt was encouraged by this agitation against evil. It was, he said, a “feeling that is to be heartily welcomed.” It was “a sign,” he promised, “of healthy life.”
Yet today such agitation is not a sign of healthy life. It is a symptom of ignorance. For though the challenge we face is again the battle against a democracy deflected by special interests, our struggle is not against “evil,” or even the “authors of evil.” Our struggle is against something much more banal. Not the banal in the now-overused sense of Hannah Arendt’s The Banality of Evil—of ordinary people enabling unmatched evil (Hitler’s Germany). Our banality is one step more, well, banal.
For the enemy we face is not Hitler. Neither is it the good Germans who would enable a Hitler. Our enemy is the good Germans (us) who would enable a harm infinitely less profound, yet economically and politically catastrophic nonetheless. A harm caused by a kind of corruption. But not the corruption engendered by evil souls. Indeed, strange as this might sound, a corruption crafted by good souls. By decent men. And women. And if we’re to do anything about this corruption, we must learn to agitate against more than evil. We must remember that harm sometimes comes from timid, even pathetic souls. That the enemy doesn’t always march. Sometimes it simply shuffles.
The great threat to our republic today comes not from the hidden bribery of the Gilded Age, when cash was secreted among members of Congress to buy privilege and secure wealth. The great threat today is instead in plain sight. It is the economy of influence now transparent to all, which has normalized a process that draws our democracy away from the will of the people. A process that distorts our democracy from ends sought by both the Left and the Right: For the single most salient feature of the government that we have evolved is not that it discriminates in favor of one side and against the other. The single most salient feature is that it discriminates against all sides to favor itself. We have created an engine of influence that seeks not some particular strand of political or economic ideology, whether Marx or Hayek. We have created instead an engine of influence that seeks simply to make those most connected rich.
As a former young Republican—-indeed, Pennsylvania’s state chairman of the Teen Age Republicans—I don’t mean to rally anyone against the rich. But I do mean to rally Republicans and Democrats alike against a certain kind of rich that no theorist on the Right or the Left has ever sought seriously to defend: The rich whose power comes not from hard work, creativity, innovation, or the creation of wealth. The rich who instead secure their wealth through the manipulation of government and politicians. The great evil that we as Americans face is the banal evil of second-rate minds who can’t make it in the private sector and who therefore turn to the massive wealth directed by our government as the means to securing wealth for themselves. The enemy is not evil. The enemy is well dressed.
Theorists of corruption don’t typically talk much about decent souls. Their focus is upon criminals—the venally corrupt, who bribe to buy privilege, or the systematically corrupt, who make the people (or, better, the rich) dependent upon the government to ensure that the people (or, better, the rich) protect the government.
So, too, when we speak of politicians and our current system of governance, many of us think of our government as little more than criminal, or as crime barely hidden—from Jack Abramoff (“I was participating in a system of legalized bribery. All of it is bribery, every bit of it”) to Judge Richard Posner (“the legislative system [is] one of quasi-bribery”) to Carlyle Group co‑founder David Rubenstein (“legalized bribery”) to former congressman and CIA director Leon Panetta (“legalized bribery has become part of the culture of how this place operates”) to one of the Senate’s most important figures, Russell B. Long (D-La.; 1949-1987) (“Almost a hairline’s difference separates bribes and contributions”).
But in this crude form, in America at least, such crimes are rare. At the federal level, bribery is almost extinct. There are a handful of pathologically stupid souls bartering government favors for private kickbacks, but very few. And at both the federal and the state levels, the kind of Zimbabwean control over economic activity is just not within our DNA. So if only the criminal are corrupt, then ours is not a corrupt government.
The aim of this book, however, is to convince you that a much more virulent, if much less crude, corruption does indeed wreck our democracy. Not a corruption caused by a gaggle of evil souls. On the contrary, a corruption practiced by decent people, people we should respect, people working extremely hard to do what they believe is right, yet decent people working with a system that has evolved the most elaborate and costly bending of democratic government in our history. There are good people here, yet extraordinary bad gets done.
This corruption has two elements, each of which feeds the other. The first element is bad governance, which means simply that our government doesn’t track the expressed will of the people, whether on the Left or on the Right. Instead, the government tracks a different interest, one not directly affected by votes or voters. Democracy, on this account, seems a show or a ruse; power rests elsewhere.
The second element is lost trust: when democracy seems a charade, we lose faith in its process. That doesn’t matter to some of us—we will vote and participate regardless. But to more rational souls, the charade is a signal: spend your time elsewhere, because this game is not for real. Participation thus declines, especially among the sensible middle. Policy gets driven by the extremists at both ends.
In the first three parts of what follows, I show how these elements of corruption fit together. I want you to understand the way they connect, and how they feed on each other. In the book’s final part, I explore how we might do something about them.
The prognosis is not good. The disease we face is not one that nations cure, or, at least, cure easily. But we should understand the options. For few who work to understand what has gone wrong will be willing to accept defeat—without a fight.
From the book Republic, Lost. Copyright (c) 2011 by Lawrence Lessig. Reprinted by permission of Twelve/Hachette Book Group, New York, NY. All rights reserved.
Related
• How Money Corrupts Congress: Interview with Lawrence Lessig
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.....item 2).... Teddy Roosevelt (1910): “Exactly as the special interests of cotton and slavery threatened our political integrity before the Civil War, so now the great special business interests too often control and corrupt the men and methods of government for their own profit.”
Read more: www.rollingstone.com/politics/blogs/national-affairs/lawr...
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.....item 3).... So, too, when we speak of politicians and our current system of governance, many of us think of our government as little more than criminal, or as crime barely hidden—from Jack Abramoff (“I was participating in a system of legalized bribery. All of it is bribery, every bit of it”) to Judge Richard Posner (“the legislative system [is] one of quasi-bribery”) to Carlyle Group co‑founder David Rubenstein (“legalized bribery”) to former congressman and CIA director Leon Panetta (“legalized bribery has become part of the culture of how this place operates”) to one of the Senate’s most important figures, Russell B. Long (D-La.; 1949-1987) (“Almost a hairline’s difference separates bribes and contributions”).
Read more: www.rollingstone.com/politics/blogs/national-affairs/lawr...
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.....item 4).... FSU News ... www.fsunews.com ...
The demanding side of the political equation
10:25 PM, Oct. 24, 2012 |
Written by
Chad Squitieri
Senior Staff Writer
FILED UNDER
FSU News
FSU News Chad Squitieri
www.fsunews.com/article/20121025/FSVIEW0305/121024023/The...|newswell|text|frontpage|s
Now that the presidential debates are over, I find myself as an onlooker being left without a satisfaction. A debate is an opportunity for two candidates to engage in a thought provoking discussion that highlights their differences from one another. What we often end up with in debates is little more than sidestepping and finger pointing.
Looking forward to debates to come, my wish is that they will consist of more substance, and fewer talking points. This wish of course can easily be shrugged off as little more than the naïve daydream of a college student; a thought destined to never materialize. The way to see this apparent pipedream become reality, however, is more in the hands of the voter than one might expect.
Political debates have never been known for their politeness, and this election cycle stayed true to form. While it may be accurate that politics in this country have always been highly contested matters with the ability to bring out plenty of emotions, it is also true that the mechanics of politics have seemed to stay in step with the rest of our society. It seems that in today’s political realm, it is becoming more and more “cool” to be rude to your opponent. The rationale behind this action is explained by the fact that candidates feel they can rally their bases in opposition to the other candidate by acting in ways we have witnessed over this debate cycle.
Actions such as talking over one another, name calling and finger pointing come to mind. The bigger question, though, is why do candidates feel they can better rally their bases by acting in a way that seems to turn the discussion into little more than a spectacle as compared to a way that better gets a candidate’s core message to voters. To answer this question, we must stop examining the supply side of the equation, and instead look to the demanders.
The demanders in any election are the voters. It is the voters that make up the political market, and it is this market that the suppliers, the candidates, bring their ideas. It is the nature of politicians to behave in ways the public wants them to behave. Having this thought in mind, it becomes easily identifiable why our politicians would act in ways that would otherwise seem counterproductive to the political process. It is because that is what we ask for.
If as a whole we demand to see politics turned into a spectacle consisting of little more than name calling and snarky, eight-second clips intended to make the front side of the evening news, then that is what our candidates will supply us with. If we instead insist on a more thought-provoking discussion which gets at the fundamentals, then candidates will have the incentive to provide just that.
As the next generation, we will have the ability to steer the course of the political process in this country. Whether we choose to end up with more political gridlock and wordplay, or instead choose straightforwardness and seek results is to be determined.
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.....item 5).... youtube video ... Jimi Hendrix - Are you Experienced (full album) UK ... 60:21 minutes
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0tlRYLP8GOU
Published on Nov 16, 2012 by gunsgifts galleries
1. "Foxy Lady" 0:00
2. "Manic Depression" 3:22
3. "Red House" 7:08
4. "Can You See Me" 11:01
5. "Love or Confusion" 13:19
6. "I Don't Live Today" 16:33
Side two
No. Title Length
1. "May This Be Love" 20:51
2. "Fire" 24:05
3. "Third Stone from the Sun" 26:52
4. "Remember" 33:42
5. "Are You Experienced?" 36:35
1997 Experience Hendrix reissue bonus tracks
No. Title Length
1. "Hey Joe" (Billy Roberts) 40:05
2. "Stone Free" 43:35
3. "Purple Haze" 47:18
4. "51st Anniversary" 50:02
5. "The Wind Cries Mary" 53:17
6. "Highway Chile" 56:37
Category:
Music
License:
Standard YouTube License
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I keep your picture beside my bed (umm)
And I still remember everything you said (umm)
I always thought our love was so right
I guess I was wrong (oh)
Always thought you'll be by my side
Pappa, now you're gone
What I wanna know baby, if what we had was good
How come you don't call me, anymore
Still like a fire on a rainy night
I still like it better when you holding me tight
Everybody said, everybody said, that we should never part, no no
Telling me baby baby baby why
Why you wanna go and break my heart
All I wanna know is baby, if what we had was good
How come you don't call me anymore.....
"TAGGED AGAIN"
By HOURY
Here we go again............so this makes 32 now, you'll know my blood type soon~LOL
1) I have a short attention span, so a fast pace is my element.
2) Have somewhat of a character, but pretty even keel. My bark is worst than my bite.
3) I was born in another country and speak 2.5 languages, English, Spanish and Portuguese.
4) I am spiritual but not a church goer.
5) I value loyalty and honesty, but you can lie to me sometimes to spare my feelings.
6) I love my golden retriever his name is Max.
7) I have always been active in sports but not a jock, just like playing some sports.
8) I was in my high school swim team only a year, until the coach wanted me to shave my body so I could swim faster. That ended that cuz my motto is “bird never lay nest on bare tree”. So to rebel, I grew out my hair long and got plenty of birds~
9) I started my photo adventure back in the film day. Back then, while a senior in High School, the educators placed me on a “drop out” prevention program were I went to school for a ½ day out at 12N to lunch and report to a part time job. I was a (un-official) staff photographer for a local (b/w only) paper. I learned darkroom techniques and developed b/w. Covered many events like basketball games, the Democratic convention (there was a riot!) My favorite assignment was shooting models. The owner of the paper made sure the cover of the local paper had a model in a bikini. All editions, different models, but this was always the cover. :-))
10) I’ve already said this before, but in case u missed the first tag. I grew up during the Disco era. I can Salsa, Merengue, booty dance, u name it better that Travolta!
11) If I had it to do over again, I would choose to be a Musician….Rock Star…Just sayin~ it’s an art I love.
12) The person who tagged me better play, cuz I generally don’t do this. But I am a pleaser and hate to hurt anyone’s feeling.
13) Damn I’m running out of things to say….So sometimes even I am at a lost for words.
14) Love boating, snorkeling the reefs, fishing, anything out door.
15) Would like to bungee jump someday…Oh yeah I have a wild side. I’ve learned though.
16) Oh….back to point 9). I supplemented my income while attending college by shooting wedding photography. I went on to graduate top 10% of my class. With a degree in Psychology, but ended up as a sales professional cuz it paid better.
You guys watch out~ Houry, your my first tag...
Tag, you're it! Please add your tagged photo to the "I've Been Tagged!" Group www.flickr.com/groups/926021@N24/
"The Regiment of Trees (2017-2019)
Carved by Patrick Walls from Hill House Edge sandstone, The Regiment of Trees commemorates Lord Kitchener’s inspection of troops – all from the 2nd London Division of Kitchener’s New Army – on Epsom Downs in January 2015. Twelve figures stand among a mix of native broadleaf trees, evoking stories of the harsh blizzard conditions in which the 20,000 volunteer soldiers waited for Kitchener’s arrival, some not even fully kitted out. Together, the sculptures and trees create a living tribute to the civilian men who answered the call to join Kitchener’s New Army." - The Woodland Trust
Falcon Coaches of Shepperton also have a base in Byfleet and, with kind permission of the company, I was able to photograph the vehicles present when I visited in October 2017.
Present at the time of my visit were Volvo B10M-61 / Van Hool Alizee HIL5657, new to Shearings as C329DND in 1986; Volvo B10M-62 / Van Hool Alizee TVS986, new as WA51JYG in 2001; and Volvo B10M-62 / Plaxton Premiere 350 4085RU, new to Tellings-Golden Miller of Byfleet as T30TGM in 1999.
Hopefully this shot answers a query on the excellent Hants & Surrey Bus Blog regarding the identity of the older Van Hool.
I left Stark Tower in Tony's helicopter. I asked the pilot where the nearest police HQ was, now the collision had screwed everything up. He told me of a place called Bludhaven, apparently there was a police station there.
He dropped me off and gave me directions to the station, and soon enough, I was there.
As I entered, the place was deserted. I walked over to a man behind a glass screen.
"Why's it so quiet here?"
He looked at me solemnly.
"We were attacked by some whack villain. Black Aaron, or something." He sighed "No one comes in here much anymore. They're scared they'll get attacked."
"I'm sorry to hear that." I said, sounding as sad as I could. "But I have a question regarding the attempted assassination of Tony Stark."
"I did hear about that. Do you have info?"
"Technically." I pulled the bullet out. "Tell me everything you know about Sionis."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bruce Banner/Hulk moves from #55, by helicopter, to take #98 Bludhaven Police Department from Black Adam/Winter Soldier.
After many years of calls to revive the famous green and yellow livery from the early years of privatisation, that of the Yorkshire Rider Group whose buses were once a dominant feature of the streetscene across West Yorkshire and York, in March 2015 Firstgroup answered the call (following several rumours as to two vehicles getting repainted, the other to go into LCT livery) when Volvo B9TL Wright Eclipse Gemini YJ58 RTV entered the paintshop at the Hunslet depot to be transformed as the first Leeds-based bus to be given a Heritage repaint - along with a YR-style 4-digit fleetnumber (7000 being an MCW Metrobus number run). The Yorkshire Rider livery has been gone for almost 20 years and has been much missed by many people, so this is a welcome return. Yorkshire Rider was initially set up in February 1986 by the still operational West Yorkshire PTE when the Conservatives created the Transport Act which would spell de-regulation for buses.
It is dedicated to the late Brian Parkin who was the editor of the Metro Transport News across the years. Brian's encyclopedic knowledge of everything to do with Leeds City Transport and other operators was and still is considered by many to be second to none.
Now the most popular bus in the First West Yorkshire fleet, 7674 is seen here in spring sunshine at Wetherby bus station with an X98 limited stop service to Kirk Deighton
[pinhole photograph] From the series "Artifacts of an Uncertain Origin"
(2011 calendar coming very soon!)
The details are important in this one, so be sure to check out the detail view.
Friday Challenge — the 60’s. I’ve had my knock-off OshGosh overalls all these years. I guess the answer’s still out there somewhere.
Fires consuming several surrounding buildings, as well as the mass evacuation, acted as background noises to mask the sound of a museum’s doors being broken down. Four men, covered in winter apparel and toting various melee weapons, entered with little consideration for the police, as the GCPD had their hands more than full as it were. Two of the robbers stopped in the gift shop and began to empty the cash register as the one with red hair asked,
“How much are we shooting for here?”
“As much as we can find. I’m hoping for a couple grand at least.” The one with black hair answered as he stuffed stacks of cash into his jacket pockets.
“Oh, ‘cause I was maybe gonna pick up a thing or two for my kid.”
“Just get somethin’ here in the gift shop.” The black haired robber said as he and the one with red hair ran to catch up with the rest of their group.
“Nah, see, he likes museums and stuff like this. I was thinkin’ maybe I’d get him a dinosaur bone.” The two robbers caught up to the others in what appeared to be an exhibit on death through the ages. A black horse statue stood on its hind legs above a small one-eyed skull shrine, both of which caused shudders throughout the group.
“The way I see it, there’s probably one more register up here-” The robber dressed in all black began before the power was cut in the room. Stumbling around in the dark, they heard the robber with curly brown hair cry out,
“Oh no! Not him! Not tonight! Isn’t he busy enough?!?!”
“Relax, ya idiot. It’s probably on account of the fires.” The one in all black said just before the window nearby exploded, with glass flying around the room.
“Ya know, this was my favorite museum here. Not that I liked museums particularly, but they let me stay the night a few times. Not too fond of the idea of it being robbed.” The robbers all looked up to see Jason Todd standing in front of Roy Harper and Scarlet, each with weapons pointed at the group.
“Seriously? There’s all sorts of weirdos running around tonight and you guys come for us?” Jason fired off a shot from his new and improved taser gun that shot the black haired robber across the room.
“I told you. This really was my favorite museum.” The red haired robber swung at Jason just as he finished. They missed, allowing Jason to slam the man’s head down onto the nearby instructional computer monitor.
“ ‘Where there is no imagination there is no horror’ is a quote from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s A Study in Scarlet, and the saying runs true with execution methods over the course of human history…”
“Oh joy.” Scarlet said as she fired off a round that knocked the weapon out of one of the robber’s hands. Roy had already rushed in, throwing the robber in all black across the room with his mechanical arm.
“ …possibly the most brutal execution tactic is the practice of bleeding the victim out from the throat-” Jason shot another taser blast at the console, while saying,
“Gross.” With another blast from his taser gun, Jason realized that all of the robbers were unconscious. The Outlaws caught their collective breaths for a moment before Roy asked,
“Ok, how are we getting them all to GCPD?” Shrugging, Jason replied,
“Hadn’t thought that far…I guess we can load them into the truck. Do we have any spare duck tape that-?”
“Yes.” Roy answered, cutting Jason off. Shooting his friend a strange look, Jason asked,
“Can you go get it?” Nodding, Roy turned and leapt out the window they had entered through. Jason and Scarlet turned to look out onto Gotham as he did, causing the former to sigh.
“Everything ok?” Scarlet asked. Smiling, Jason looked out onto the numerous buildings engulfed in flame as he replied,
“Never better. I’m home.”
Bella: Look, You gotta give me some answers.
Edward: Yes... No... To get to the other side... 1.77245...
Bella: I don't need the square root of pi.
-from Twilight- :)
Expedition 41 media briefing with Max Surayev and Reid Wiseman, 18 March 2014.
Credit: NASA-B. Stafford
Levi has had a hard decision to make with all the lovely proposals......So he thanks all the ladies! (he kinda got a little bit of an ego from it too!) But he has one true love - He has been waiting for an answer from his best friend......will today be the day?
A lot of people talk about climate change. It has implications for our very way of life. But what should be driving all of this care is a concern for the people who are suffering. In many cases, people who deserve it least. These are the people that the Red Cross Red Crescent work with in Bangladesh and around the world.
These children might inherit a world worse than the one we were born into. In twenty years, I do not want to have to face them again, and say I did nothing to try to prevent that.
To see why I was in Bangladesh click here, or look at the previous or next photo. If you are interested, please view the series.
Turn of a Friendly Card
************************************************************
Based on a true adventures of a rogue active in the waning years of the 1930’s as discovered in the criminal archives of Chatwick University.
Act 1
I begin my tale in the present…
That afternoon a soiree was given as part of the purchase price of the tickets for the annual Autumn Charity Ball to be presented later that evening at the manor’s great house. Since I was alone, I just went mainly for the free food and to rub my elbows with the wealthy guests who would be in happy attendance there, and at the Ball. I was alone, but certainly not bored. There was a game I enjoyed playing to pass the time at these affairs that entailed scoping out by their dress and day jewels worn, those ladies whom would be most likely to be wearing the better costumes and sparklers that evening. It often proved to be a most beneficial insight into the actions and mannerisms of the very rich. I walked amongst the cheerful guests, eying one here ( a lady in satin and pearls) and another there( a high spirited girl with a diamond pin at the throat of her frilly silken blouse). It was as I was passing the latter that the friend she had been talking too (dressed like a vamp), bumped up against me. I caught her, steadying her as they both giggled. I didn’t mind, for the lassie’s too tight satin sheath tea dress had been an enticement to hold, and the gold bracelet that had been dangling from her gloved wrist had been a pleasure to observe. I kissed her gloved hand, rings glittering, as I apologized gallantly for my clumsiness. Her eyes were bright, almost as bright as the twin necklaces of gold that hung swaying down pleasantly from between her ample bosom. I left them, moving on to greener pastures, and it was very green, all of it….
It was then that I detected another pretty lassie. It was her long fiery red hair with falling wispy curls that first captured my attention. She was wearing a fetchingly smart white chiffon party dress that commanded me to acquire a closer examination. She appeared to be a blithe spirit, seemingly content with just being by herself and roaming about with casual elegance, the extensive grounds of the manor proper. I began to discreetly follow her at a distance. Although she did not wear any jewelry, her manner and the eloquent way she moved is what attracted me the most. It would be very interesting to seek her out later that evening and she what she would have chosen to decorate herself with. I followed her as she sojourned into the depths of a traditional English garden with a maze of lushly green trimmed 8 foot high hedges
As I strolled through the hedgerows in her wake I allowed my mind to wander its own course. Suddenly I straightened up, my reverie broken by an epiphany of sorts. I allowed myself to grin and the lady whose enchantment I was swollen up in, at that moment turned, and seeing my beaming smile assumed it was for her and gave me a rather cute nod of her head. I answered in same, as I headed en route to a nearby stone garden bench to allow my thoughts to think through themselves.
But before I go on, allow me the pleasure to sojourn and reminisce about an incident that occurred several years prior:
*******************
I was still working unaided in those days, travelling on to a new next quest that would take me just outside of Surrey.
I had just purchased my train ticket and had seen my luggage safe on board when I decided to rest in the lounge, it being some 45 minutes before allowed to enter personally aboard. Being so early the lounge was almost deserted, only one other occupant. I assumed she was waiting for someone on an incoming train due to the fact she carried no luggage. She was obviously well off, well dressed in satins and lace, and her jewels shone magnificently in the dim lights. Especially one of her rings, noticeably lying loosely around a finger, it sparkled with an expensive brilliance. I had seen one like it in a tiffanies store, worth almost 250 pounds. But she did not appreciate the show her jewelry was putting on under the lounge lights, for she was fast asleep.
I circled around her, aiming for a seat next to her, eyeing her and her possessions carefully. I noticed her purse had fallen off her lap and lay on the floor. An idea popped into my head, and I picked the purse up, and looked around carefully, before placing my plan into action. But I was thwarted as an older, matronly lady was spotted heading our way. I slipped the purse into my jacket and moved off before I was noticed. Of course she came in and took the empty seat across form the sleeping princess, and soon busied herself with knitting. As the older lady had sat down, not quietly, the wealthy lady stirred waking up at the noise. I went into a corner and sat, waiting. The two ladies soon fell into conversation; the minute’s ticked by excruciatingly slow. Soon I noticed we even had more company.
He was a lad of only fourteen, but with a devilish look about him that marked him a kindred spirit to meself, and his quick eyes were darting about taking it all in as he stood outside the paned glass window.
It was as the first announcement of boarding the train that I saw a chance for opportunity to strike.
The older lady folded up her knitting and clinching her bag, bid adieu to her new friend,( befuddled a little by the old ladies constant stream of gossip), and headed to the train. I was twenty steps ahead of her and was standing behind the youth as she left the lounge. I tapped him on the shoulder; he looked around at me suspiciously, and then caught sight of the shilling I was holding in front of his nose. I quickly whispered a few words into his ear on how he could earn it, and his grin spread as he bought into my story. I still held onto the shilling as he darted around and inside the lounge. I watched as he ran up behind the lady, circling her, then running in front of her he tripped over her leg, as she helped him up, her hand with the ring reaching down, he turned and spat onto the wrist and sleeve of that hand, than standing he ran away. Running alongside me, I handed him the shilling in passing as he ran off, disappearing in to the street.
I went inside and approached the astonished lady, as she was looking for her purse to get a handkerchief, confused as to its absence, while she held up her soiled hand( ring glittering furiously) in utter disbelief. I approached, catching her attention by the soothing words I uttered to her. I took her hand, unbelieving with her at just had happened, and I as I apologized for the youth of today I produced my own silk handkerchief and starting with her silky sleeve, began to wipe it off, continuing my tirade of displeasure and contempt at what had just occurred to the dear lady as I did so. As I finishing wiping her down, ending with her warm slender fingers, I kissed them, just as the last boarding announcement came over (perfect timing!) I let her go, explaining that I must catch my train. I turned and without looking back made the train just as it was letting off steam before chugging off.
I gained my private carriage just as the train began to lurch away. It wasn’t until after the train began its journey that I casually removed my silk handkerchief from my pocket and unwrapped it carefully, admiring up close the shimmering, valuable tiffany ring that was lying inside. I pocketed it, and then remembered the purse. I took it out and examined its contents: coin and notes equaling a handsome amount, a gold (gilded) case, embroidered lacy handkerchief, small silver flask of perfume, and ( of all things)a large shimmering prism , like one that would have dangled from a fancy crystal chandelier. A prism?, I questioned with interest as I examined it. It was pretty thing, about the circumference of a cricket ball, but shaped like a pendulum, it shimmered and glittered like the most precious of jewels. Why she had it in her purse? I couldn’t guess, and I saw no value in it, so I pocketed it and allowed it to leave my mind.
As I settled into my seat I began to think of the lad I had just met, I had been right on the money as far as his eagerness for mischief. Actually he reminded me of myself at that age, and I wondered if that lad with the shifty eyes would also turn out to follow the same course I had explored.
Which Begs the question, what had I turned out to become. And since I’m still reminiscing
I’ll give little background material about me, hopefully I don’t come across as being too conceited about my self-taught skills..
I had never been one to take the hard road, and even at a young age I was always looking for angles, or short cuts to make some money.
Once, while watching for some time a street magician and his acts. I observed a pick pocket working the crowd. He approached a pair of well-dressed ladies in shiny clothes, and standing behind them bided his time and then lifted a small pouch from one velvet purse, and a fat wallet from a silken one, then he moved on. Now both ladies were wearing shiny bracelets, one with jewels. I thought that he could have realized a greater profit if he had nicked one or both of the bracelets first, than try for the contents of their purses. The bracelets’ alone would have realized a far greater profit than what he lifted from their purses. It further occurred to me that by mimicking some of the sleight of hand tricks and misdirection that the magician was using on his audience, it could be accomplished. A hand placed on the right shoulder and as the lady turned right, whisk off the bracelet from her left wrist, and excuse oneself, that sort of thing.
So, I practiced (on my sisters, who proved to be willing accomplices to “my game”) and learned to pick their purses and pockets. I than moved onto their jewelry, starting by lifting bracelets and slipping away rings, before advancing to the brooches, necklaces and earrings they were wearing. After I was satisfied at my skill level, I went out and worked the streets. Sometimes using my one sister who was also hooked on what I was doing as a willing partner.
But I found myself still not being satisfied, in the back of my mind I thought there had to be a more lucrative way to turn a profit.
I’d found my answer when an attractive lady in a rustling satin gown zeroed in on me while I was “visiting” a ballroom. She was jeweled like a princess right up to the diamond band she wore holding up her piles of soft locks like a glimmering crown. The more she drank, the closer she got and I decided that her necklace would definitely help pay my expenses more than the contents of her purse (although I had already lifted the fat wallet from her small purse), and I did have very expensive tastes to pay for. So I took her onto the dance floor.
I was amazed at how easily I had been able to open the necklace’s clasp , slipping it over her satiny shoulder, lifting it off and placing it safely in my pocket with almost no effort. Then she decided to be playful once the song ended and brushed up against me. She felt the necklace in my pocket and before I could act she had her hand in and pulled it out.
The silly naive twit thought I was teasing her and told me that for my penance I had to go up to her suite in order to put it back on for her. I kept up the charade as best as I could.
And that’s where we ended up. A little bit of light fondling began as I placed the necklace back around her throat. I began to tease her, plied her with more and more alcohol as I tried to keep my distance, and virginity. Finally she passed out in a drunken stupor, but not before I had learned where she hid her valuables by suggesting she should lock her jewels up for the night..
With her safely unconscious, I began to strip her clean off all her jewels, reclaiming the necklace first. Then I visited all her jewelry casket and began looting it. I even took her small rhinestone clutch with the diamond clasp; of course I already had liberated its small wallet.
When I’d left her lying happily asleep in bed, still in her satin gown( the only item left to her that shined), I knew I had found a much more profitable line of “work”
So I began making circuits around to the haunts of the very rich, I still kept may hand in pickpocketing, so to speak, but centered only on those “pockets” containing mainly jewelry. I also began to carefully explore new ways of acquiring jewels” in masse”, so to speak.
Soon I had accumulated many tricks and tools, having them at my disposal to put into action once required, and for the remaining years up till the present had managed to live quite comfortably off of the ill-gotten gains using them allowed me to acquire.
Which brings me back to the train ride, my prism, and the rest of my background story before I retun to the present tale. Please be patient.
*****
So, anyway, I reached Surry without any further incident and disembarking, made my way out to the large country house where I would be staying to take a short rest, vacation if you will. But, pardon the play on words, for there is never any rest for the wicked, is there?
I had become acquainted with a servant of the old mansion ( almost a small castle, really) , that was about a mile off. I managed to learn a great deal, and soon found myself, on the pretense of visiting her, exploring the grounds. There was to be a grand ball taking place a couple of weekends away , and the maid had filled my ears with the riches that would be displayed by the multitude of regal ladies making an appearance. I began to think about trying to make a little bit of profit from my vacation. I am not sure how the idea developed, but the prism that I still had in my possession, came up centrally into my plans.
Late on the evening of the regal affair, I snuck over, covered head to toe in black, with my small satchel off tools by my side. I set up a candle behind an old stone ivy covered wall in a far corner of the rather large and intricate English garden that surrounded the inner circle around the mansion. I than strung the jewel-like prism in front of it. Standing behind the wall, I would strike the prism with a long stick I was holding whenever I observed sparkles emanating from silkily gowned ladies walking in the distance, solitary or in pairs. The prism would flash fire, sort of like a showy lure being used when fishing in a crooked trout stream. Only I was fishing for far sweeter game than trout. My objective was to trick certain types of jeweled ladies (scatterbrains some may call them) by luring them down onto the path beyond the wall, using their natural curiosity to my advantage.
I had at least two strikes rise up to my lure in the second hour.
On was a pretty lady in flowing green satin number, decorated with plenty of emeralds, which, hidden in the shadows, I observed were probably paste. I let her wonder about; as she looked and played with the shiny toy, remaining hidden until she grew bored and wandered off.
The second was a slender maiden wearing a long sleek black gown with long ivory silk gloves. I had never before seen a lady so decked out in jewels, literally head to toe. With the exception of the rhinestones adorning her heels, the rest of the lot was real, so valuably real that I could feel my mouth salivating at the thoughts of acquiring her riches. Now in Edwardian times only older, married ladies would be allowed the privilege of wearing a diamond Tiara. But in these modern times, it had become culturally acceptable for any well-to do lady, single or otherwise, to wear one out in society. Even so, they were still rarely worn, and seldom seen outside the safety of large gatherings. But there it was, a small, delicately slender piece of intricate art that glistened from the top of her head like some elegant beacon. That piece alone was probably worth more than I had made all the last four months combined!
I began to skirt around in the shadows, placing myself in position to cut off her retreat. Her diamonds blazed as she approached, eyeing the swinging prism with total concentration. Which was unfortunate, because as I was about to leave the shadows, she walked into the thorns of a rose bush, screeching out, and attracting the notice of a pair of gentlemen who had just crossed the path quite a ways off, called out when they heard the commotion. She started to become chatty with them, obviously coming on to her rescuers, my prism all but forgotten. Than before I knew it, in a swishing of her long gown, she was gone, “swimming” off before I was able to set me ”hook”.
Which I was able to do on the third strike, almost an hour later, just as I was beginning to ponder wither I should call it off and head back home..
They were a pair of young damsels in their young twenties. They may have been sisters, or cousins at the least. I still remember how my heart leapt into my throat as they observed my colourful prism and turned down the old flagstone path. I had not seen anyone out and about for some time, so I knew they would be no would be rescuers around to come to their aid
And, best of all, they were both dressed for the kill!
One, the blonde, was clad in a black velvet number that one could cannily describe as quite form fitting. As were the small ropes of pearls that hung from all points of interest, pretty with a matching pricelessness.
But her cousin, as I will refer to her, out shone black velvet quite literally.
This one, a stunning raven haired beauty, wore a long streaming gown of liquid ivory satin. A diamond brooch sparkled as it held up a fold of the gown to her waist. The fold allowed her to show a rather daring amount of a slender bare calf. The brooch was not paste, but a real jewel that had been added for the nights festivities ( To be successful, one learns to read these signs accurately) Her ears and neckline were home to a matching set of pure white diamonds. A wide diamond bracelet graced a bare right wrist ,so she must be left handed I instinctively thought, an observation that would have aided me if I were planning on having a go for slipping the bracelet from her wrist, but tonight I was planning a much more daring attempt to empty the entire jewel casket, so to speak.
They went to the prism, playing with it a bit, I had begun to circle around, when I noticed black velvet pointing out with multiple ringed fingers, to something further down the path past the wall.
With a clicking of heels I let the pair pass, they apparently wanted to see what was on the other side of the wall. I followed; it was not hard, because the necklace the raven haired one wore, diamonds fully encircling her throat, rippled and sparkled from their perch, caught in the full harvest moon’s cast, giving me more than enough light to shadow them quietly .
After a while they caught on that something/someone was following them, but as they turned they could see nothing. I was in black, and hooded, invisible to them in the shadows of the trees. They whispered amongst themselves, now worried, realizing that there were dangers lurking beyond the pale, in their case, the safety of the gardens , especially for ones decked out as they were. They then turned and headed right back from where they had come, right into my waiting arms.
It is interesting what good breeding does for young, poised ladies. For, as I stepped out of the shadows, a finger of my right hand to my lips, my Fairborn in my left hand, its black blade glinting wickedly in the moonlight , they did not scream out or shout for help. Instead the pair merely let out small gasps, and then they both, in a quite charming synchronized display of disbelief, place each one hand over their open mouths, and the other upon their perspective necklaces.
And as I flourished my wicked looking Fairbairn–Sykes blade in their direction, they unquestioningly reached around and undid those pretty necklaces, tremblingly handing them out to me, like actresses following a well-read script. I took the little pretties and after stuffing them into my satchel, held out again my free hand, my fingers beckoning. Not a word was spoken between us, as the frightened pair of young ladies began removing their shimmering jewels and added them in a neat little growing pile along my open palm. The raven haired girl even undid her brooch without me having to command her to do so. Once I had stashed it all away, I motioned for them to turn back around, than with a little helpful prodding on my part, they began moving forward back down the hill, away from the garden. The one in white hobbling a little now as she kept tripping over the hem of her dress, now no longer held up by the stolen brooch.
After we had traveled about 200 meters I had them stop, and take off their high heels. Then picking the pretty things up, I motioned them to turn back around and made them walk back the way we had come in their bare feet, watching the pair awkwardly hobble barefooted down the wooded path. They would be quite a while on their journey back, allowing me more than ample time to make me escape. I threw their shoes off to the side and went briskly the other way, reaching the place was staying at , gaining my room without notice. But not before I had hidden the jewels inside an old stump to retrieve them at a later date. I never really heard so much as a whisper of the incident, other than from the pretty lips of my friendly maiden. The wee hours of the morning before my early departure for the train station found me revisiting the stump and retrieving my satchel and its precious cargo. After hiding it all in a false bottom of my case I laid my head on the pillow and drifted off to sleep as I wondered what had happened to the little prism, marveling at how useful it had ended up proving to be.
So, how does this story (journey rather) relate to the one I had already started? Please read on, and enrich your curiosity… my dear readers.
****************************************************************************
Act 2
So, with apologies for my lengthy elucidation, but I now return you back to the garden party I was now attending on that warm fall day. But, as you will see, my prism story needed to be told in order to add a bit of flavor to what was about to unfold.
As I sat on the garden bench I formulated my plans. I should be able to acquire the main piece tonight at the Ball, I would have time this afternoon to retrieve my ever handy satchel and its array of tools and have it hidden at the spot I had already selected. It was perfect, located at the end of the path I had found, or rather the charming lady in the smart chiffon dress had found for me. A gas lamp would provide adequate light for my “lure”, and it led to a back wood where I could lead any victims away and liberate them of their valuables before making my escape. I rose, just enough time to walk my escape route, before setting up and then be dressed for the evening’s festivities. I looked around, I was alone now, my lady in white had disappeared, following her own course, whatever it may have been.
The Autumn Ball that evening was in full swing by the time I arrived. Being a cool fall day, most of the women were wearing long gowns and dresses, and that, for whatever the reason, usually meant they were decked out with more layers of jewelry than say , if it had been the middle of summer. In order to put my plan in action I need and intrinsic piece of the trap, a prism. The one I had once had was long ago lost, a minor pawn in a game to take a pair of princesses.
I knew exactly the type of prism required for my plan, and so began mingling amongst the guests with that in mind.
I started out by walking through to the chamber like ballroom where a full orchestra was starting to play. The first person I saw from the garden party was the little tramp who had been wearing the too tight satin tea dress. That dress had been replaced with a long silky gown, her gold jewelry replaced with emeralds; including a thin bracelet that had taken the place of the gold one that she had so obligingly dangled in my larcenous path. I decided to avoid her In principle, and in doing so spied someone quite interesting.
That someone was a pretty lady in a long velvet gown standing off to one side, idly watching the many dancers out on the floor. The dancing couples were forming an imagery of a rainbow coloured sea of slinky swirling gowns and with erupting fireworks of sparkling jewels, ignited by pair of immensely large chandeliers that hung over the dance floor, setting them off. I made my way, skirting the dance floor to reach her, my eyes on her jewels, which were making pretty fireworks of their own. I happened to walk up just as a waiter with a tray of drinks was passing by. Plucking off a drink I offered it to the lady with one hand, my other hand placed on her back as If to steady myself. She laughed prettily, and taking the drink I met her eyes, as she was focused on reaching and holding the glass in her slippery gloved hand, mine was on the ruby and diamond necklace. My hand behind her had flicked open the simple hook and eye clasp of the antique piece and was in the process of lifting it up and whisking it away from her throat. As I said a few words to her, I pocketed it, while also taking in the rest of her lovely figure and its shiny decorations, before biding adieu. She smiled, her pale bare neckline now quite glaringly extinguished of its fire.
It was about an hour later, after spotting, but unable to make inroads with several likely candidates, that I finally struck gold (figuratively). It came in the form of a young couple arguing between themselves in a far corner of the chamber. She was lecturing a rather handsome man in a tux, her jeweled fingers flying in his face. If she hadn’t been moving about in such an animated fashion as she lectured, I may not have even noticed her. But as it happened I did, especially noticeable was the sanctimonious lady’s wide jeweled bracelet that was bursting out in a rainbow of colorful flickers as her hand was emphatically waving, as her long gown of silk swished around with every movement she made. Perfect. I watched for a bit, and sure enough they moved off, the man heading for the patio leading outside, the wealthy girl following him, still giving him lashes with her tongue. I moved and managed to have her bump into me simply by stepping on the hemline of her long gown. For a few seconds I was the one on the receiving end of her wrath, but I took it like a man, I could see in the eyes of her tongue lashed husband, that he was grateful for the respite. I was also grateful; grateful for the quite wide, very shimmering, bracelet that I had removed from her wrist and now was residing in my pocket.
I began to leave the patio, but was stopped by a matronly lady in ruffles, laces and pearls, her breath heavy with alcohol. She started to question me on what the couple had been on about. Then without waiting for an answer she launched herself into a tirade of her own, her gem encrusted, silken gloved fingers, waving in my face for emphasis. It was almost ten minutes before I was able to make my escape. Which I did, but not before slipping off one of the lecturing ladies vulgarly large cocktail rings.
I headed onto the patio; the time was getting ripe for my plan, which I was now ready to put into motion, now having acquired its most essential piece. I went to the end of the large patio, weaving in and out of the by now well liquored guests whom had assembled there. Across the way I saw a lady tripping over her own gown. By the time I reached her she had fallen down, giggling merrily. Two of us rushed to her aid, she was busy gushed her thanks to the rescuer she knew, while ignoring the one she didn’t! Which was unfortunate on her part, for by ignoring me, she also was ignorant of the fact that I was busy lifting the small stands of black pearls from her wrist. I left unnoticed, much like a shadow fading out of the light, or at least that’s how it seemed. Finally I reached the patios outer edge without further incident, or gain. I went on the grass and turned a corner with the intention of going, post haste around the house to reach the gardens by the long way, hoping not to be seen by anyone. But I no sooner turned the corner, when I realized that it was not to be the case.
It was my blithe spirit in white chiffon from the garden party, pardon me, soiree. She was unescorted, looking up at the moon above a stone turret with one lit window, so intently that my presence had not been noticed. I had been absolutely correct in my observation of her as far as what she would be wearing for the evening. For what she had lacked in ornaments at the soiree, she had more than made up for in the evening festivities. She was absolutely gorgeous, resplendent in as beautiful a silvery satin gown that I had ever witness. It was just pouring down, shimmering along her delightful figure. Her long blazing red hair was still curling down and free, but now a pair of long chandelier earrings cascading down from her earlobes, were peeking out every now and then as they swayed with her every movement. Her blazingly rippling necklace was all diamonds, dripping down the front of her tightly satin covered bosom, twinkling iridescently like an intensively glimmering waterfall. Her slender gloved wrists were home to a pair of dangling diamond bracelets that were almost outshone by her many glistening rings. All in all she was quite a lure all too herself
I came up to her, starling her from her reverie. Taking up her hand, I looked into her startled, suddenly blushing face. I complimented her on the fine gown she wore. She thanked me, and I could see I that she suddenly remembered she me as the chap who she thought smiled to her in the garden. She seemed to accept my compliment quite readily. I chanced it( although Lord knows I was short on time) and asked her to a dance. I did not think she would agree, so it was with a little bit of surprise, hoping she would politely decline and walk off, leaving me free to go about my business unobserved. But she accepted, and I will admit that my heart leapt as she agreed (although in the back of my mind I knew I should be off if my plan was to work). The music had stopped so we made small talk as we slowly walked back to the ballroom. Her name was Katrina. It seems she was waiting for someone, which suited my plans, but he was late and so she had time. Which may have sounded dismissive, but from the apologetic way she said it, it was anything but the sort.
The orchestra started to tune back up as we entered, and taking her offered hand up, was soon lost in the elegance of my appealing partner. It was a long dance, and a formal one, but I could tell she was subtly anxious to be off on her meeting, as I was to be off to my own adventure. But Katrina did not really allow it to show, which was very uncharacteristic of her someone with her obvious breeding. So I was ready when the by the end of the music she begged her condolences and took flight. I watched her as she fluidly moved away, her jewels sparkling, all of them. On her mission to meet Mr. X I thought, for whom I was already harboring a quite jealous dislike. I should be off I thought to meself.
But I stood, still as stone; totally mesmerized by the way Katrina’s swirling silvery satin gown was playing out along her petite, jewel sparkling figure. It wasn’t till the last of her gown swished around a corner out of sight that I moved, but not without having to shake my head to clear the thoughts of her out of it. Well old son, focus. For by now the guests were starting to wander a bit afield in the waning hours of the Autumn Ball, and my small window of opportunity was closing fast. If my little plan was going to have any chance of success it would have to be now.
I walked out and made my way to one of the outside exist of the garden wall. Reaching into my pocket as I did so, fingering the bracelet, now cold, that had belonged to the quarrelsome lady,and soon would be playing another role, far from one its former mistress would ever have dreamed off. I also felt my new acquisition, still warm from my dance partner’s body. I will admit that I had felt a twinge of regret for taking it from a lady I had found to be most charmingly captivating. But slipping off the diamonds up and away from her throat had been as temptingly easy as it had been automatic. I had advantageously made use of the sleekness of her scintillatingly silky gown, and with the distractions created by the movements of the dance, successfully managed to keep Katrina’s attention safely diverted from the reality of why my fingers were ever so gently, caressingly sliding along her slippery gowns neckline. The truth was I had originally placed my hand there because it had felt so right, and I was a little startled when my fingers had subconsciously started playing with her necklaces clasp. Before I knew it, they had flicked open the gemstone clasp of her obviously expensive diamond necklace, and had lifted up. As I watched out of the corner of my eye, almost like I was a spectator, as opposed to being the perpetrator, I saw the chain move up and over her shoulder; its diamonds sparkling with is as the necklace disappeared from view behind her back.
It was a favored technique that I had perfected to the point that by this stage of my career I nearly always acquired my objective. But, as odd as it sounds, I was not happy with myself on this occasion.
But I did not long dwell on my mixed feelings on taking the charming lass’s diamonds, for by now I had reached my place of ambush. It was in one of the farthest reaches of the garden, at a bend on the end of a long path that, with a gas lamp at its beginning just off the patio, would allow me to see from some distance off. Behind me was a break in the hedge wide enough for a person to walk through comfortably. It was here, off a tree limb, underneath a second ornate cast iron gas lamp, which was now lit, that I hung the shimmering bracelet that I had sought out and acquired for just that reason
I walked around and saw that it could be seen flickered off in the distance from the woods, Perfect! Earlier I had hidden my satchel with a hood and knife and bit of rope in the hollow of an old tree. I now retrieved them, and after getting ready, found my position and waited. At 10 minutes past the first hour of my wait, with nary a single glimpse of anyone, I started to fidget. My corner may be just a bit too desolated I was beginning to admit to myself. It seemed that most of the guests were staying by the patio. I was starting to think that I should pack it in, possibly rejoining the guests for one last parting( of someone from her Jewelry). I was just reaching down to pick up my satchel when I suddenly saw something flash under the gas lamp at the beginning of the path, and my senses immediately perked up. I watched as the wisps of rich shimmery satin moved closer, I stiffened, drooling with anticipation, the game was afoot.
I could see clearly the flickering jewels she wore, and by their blazing sparkles of rippling fire, I knew that my long vigil would not have been in vain. As the lady drew I recognized her gown of silvery satin! I knew who was making those tantalizing flashes of appealing treasures. Katrina!
I watched as she approached, in all her glittering elegance. My heart and conscious was in turmoil, but I knew I probably would not get a second chance. I could not let her get away unscathed. Beside, from the shock of being confronted with a masked scoundrel wielding a wicked blade, she would be in no shape to recognize her assailant. She stopped, apprehensively looking back towards the bright lights of the Manor, Then turning back I saw she had a self-satisfied smile creeping upon her face. She reached up, and undoing her hair, shook it down, curls of softness cascading down, hanging loosely down. It was as she performed this provocative act, that I saw her eyes open wide in curiosity; she had spied my pretty little “prism”. The charming fish was hooked.
I waited, watching her approaching ever closer to fate, and from my concealment, I basked in her glow. My heart beating fast, my adrenaline pumping, for the remaining jewels (I thought of her necklace in my custody) that she possessed I already had witnessed were quite valuable. She passed my hiding spot and went to the hanging, shimmering object. As she reached up, looking around, she failed to see me approaching in the shadows. I came up from behind, jabbing a finger in her back as I reached her, I gruffly in no uncertain terms, snarled for her to freeze and make no sound. She stiffened under my touch, but made no move or outcry. I went around; pointing my knife in her direction, looking into her sad doe wide eyes as she realized what was going to happen next. She was trembling; from fear I guessed, and knew I had her right where I wanted. As I made my demands upon her, gimme them jewels sister, she, not surprisingly, was very compliant in giving them up to me. She reached for her necklace last, and looked entirely shocked to find her throat bare, as she searched the neckline of her gown I saw her look into my hand, now dripping with her precious jewelry, almost as if to see if she had not already removed it. She looked apologetically into my eyes, startled; almost pleading that she didn’t know what had happened to it. I just played dump. She than spoke for the first time, sir, may I ask to keep my purse? Her words would have instantly melted even the coldest chunk of ice, I looked down at the little silvery clutch hanging from her arm on its rhinestone chain, I nodded, indicating that she could, and saw relief wash over her face. I told her she now needed to turn around and walk off into the woods ahead of me. She hesitated, and I told her no harm would befall her, I had no intentions along those lines.
About 5 meters in I stopped her, and had her remove her shoes, as she bent over to undo the high heels rhinestone clasps I watched her gown tightly outlining her figure. She tripped on the hem of her gown, and as she attempted to keep her balance, accidently let her purse slip off her shoulder. Without thinking I reached down to pick it up for her as she tried reached for it simultaneously
The small purse was far heavier than it should have been. Curious I opened it, finding that it contained a rather extensive array of mismatched jewelry, glittering in unbelievably expensive fire . I looked into Katrina’s horror struck eyes dumb founded, as she looked guiltily into mine. The gig was up. The jewels belonged to the lady of the manor, my muse in silver was a thief, a female version of me very self.
Aye, what’s this than luv? I questioned her as she looked into my eyes, hers large with a mixture of fright and disbelief. She melted before me, fainting, I caught her in my arms, and it was no ruse. I held her as she came to, holding her warm, silky figure lovingly to mine. I did not know what to think. Nor could I ever explain what possessed me to do what I did next. As she came to, her eyes opened, and I removed my mask, looking back into them deeply.
Oh, she gasped, I’m glad it was you, startled that she had said the words out loud. She than started to coyly blushes, quite demurely. Something sparked in me, and unless she was an incredibly good actress, it did also for Katrina. Our eyes both looked into the others, melting away in the lust of the moment. We embraced, deeply, and I held her squirming warm slick figure tight in my enveloping arms. I looked over her shoulder, eyeing the glistening bracelet hanging from its branch. To catch a thief, the thought suddenly opened in my mind, what a great title for a novel I thought to myself, as I buried my nose into Katrina’s luxuriously soft hair.
We talked for a bit, walking off into the woods, then she looked into my eyes again, a coy, look that melted me on the spot, and that was the end of it, we embraced again, and wholly gave ourselves to one another. What about your man I asked suddenly remembering, my man she questioned , than oh, you mean the Lord, I was waiting for him to come down from smoking in his tower study, that’s where the lady’s jewels are kept. She broke into an Irish brogue as she said the last bit, and that I guessed was her natural tongue. she laid a hand on the side of my face, thanks for being jealous though, me lad.
I should collect my lure I said, which made her smile; it was such an enticing smile at that. We started to head back and watched as it dangled in front of us flickering. With a far off look in her green eyes, Katrina spoke as if in deep though.
The daughter of the house, she has a bracelet on like the one you have dangling, a bracelet of diamonds that I had taken a fancy to, wishing it had been in the safe along with the rest of the ladies of manors jewelry. I knew who she was talking about. The one in green taffeta I asked? Aye lad, that’s the one. Actually her necklace would be just as easy, and worth more I said. Just then her bright green eyes gleamed, Give me about a half an hour, she told me, we will put your little lure to use again. She noticed my hesitation, don’t worry luv she said soothingly placing a gloved hand to my cheek, no longer was it sparkly with its stolen bracelet and rings. I’ll leave my purse with you, can’t very well be carrying it around now can I? I nodded my consent, my mind burning with the thoughts she had alluringly placed there.
She turned, and then hesitated; turning back she said I probably should not go back in naked luv. I smiled, reaching in I pulled out her necklace and placed it around her throat. With a little gasp she blurted, so it was you, I was wondering who and when it had happened. It’s not the first time I’ve had me jewels lifted, but it’s a bloody annoyance to have to let them get away with it, crawls under my skin to have pretend not to notice so that I don’t draw any attention to me self before making my move to steal the posh ones jewels.
But you, mister, I never felt as much as a prickling. I was ready to assume my pretties had been a victim of a broken clasp this time. I gave a little nod in acceptance. That wasn’t exactly a compliment lad, she said in what I hopped was a subtle jest. Just last summer some clumsy bugger slipped of me earrings, my favorite pearls, as we were danc… she stopped, seeing the guilt in my eyes. Men! As thieves you are all of the same skin she spat out angrily, or attempted to sound angry, for the look in her eyes to me she wasn’t. I best be off, before I change me mind about out little endeavor.
With that she swirled around on her heels, and started off, but not before turning and giving me an extremely coy look of interest. As she swirled back around I heard her say loud enough for my ears, I’ll learn me self to be a picker of pockets, see how males like to be taken advantage of in their vulnerabilities! She nodded to herself as she said it. Then suddenly she stopped, than twirled on her heels, her gown swirling enticingly along her figure. Looking me dead in the eye she said, “Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie” !
What does that mean? I questioned in a low voice, perplexed.
Maybe, Mon Cheri, someday I will tell you… And with that she turned on her heel, her gown once again swirling about, and went, determinedly, swishing her way back up the path. I just watched. I had never heard anyone speak French with an Irish Brogue and I had found it to be rather provocative!
I watched as she swished and swayed her way back through the hedge and regained the path leading back to the manor. Her plan was simple; she would lead the daughter of the house to my corner and as she had done, go out with her to look at the swinging charm. I would then make my appearance, rob both ladies of their finery, and telling the daughter to wait until I released her friend, walk off with Katrina as a hostage, and we would both take off and make good our escape. A simple plan, so simple it should actually work.
So, there I was. Holding a purse with a small fortune in jewels, my pocket full of more jewels worth an additional pretty farthing, and her charms were wearing off by her leaving. And my thieving nature coming back, reawakened from the spell they had been under!
The devil of my conscious crept out on my shoulder, the angel markedly absent from the other.
Look mate, she may not be all she seems, and possibly has some other game in mind. Maybe she does have a male confidante helping her out… and was actually on her way to fetch him. He said in my inner ear. And, after all, you took her diamonds twice, didn’t ye now? Do you really think shell forgive you of that me lad?
And there is no honor amongst thieves, as the saying goes, he added as a closing argument...
I rolled it over in my mind…I could leave, absconding with it all, book a cruise to the states or down under where there lay untried fertile grounds to ply my trade. Not to mention working over my fellow passengers aboard the cruise ship while they attended the fancy affairs that were always going on, or so the brochures always seemed to show……
Then In the distance I caught a wisp of Katrina’s long silvery gown. She was coming, and not only with the daughter of the manor, but also with a spare. For I could see a purple coloured gown swishing alongside with the prey in rustling green taffeta.. I watched as all three ladies, resplendent with the rippling fiery gems they all possessed, came up the path, gowns sweeping out , shimmery from the now misty distance.
The thought of making my escape with all the loot continued to haunt me, there was still time now to take off without notice, or I could rob all three, and leave with purple silk as my hostage, Katrina would not be able to say anything on chance of giving up her part of the game, or I could just be a good lad and sty with the script that Katrina had written. Take a chance, roll the dice and believe that she was all she had me believing she could ever be.
As they came closer I knew my time was running out. The thoughts of just looking out for myself kept coming up playing the devil with my conscience as the precious seconds ticked away…
No honor amongst thieves…
What will it be, old boy I challenged myself,
What will you have it be?........
To see what his decision ultimately was, and the eventual path it led to, see the album question answered)
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Life is not about waiting out the storm, but about learning to dance in the rain.
Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie .
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Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
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...to the question : " DO you ever feel like just jumping in the pools as you clean those patios outside in your pantyhose and dress and slip and makeup?"
A: Yes. But... when the water is steaming because the air is that much colder - it is VERY hard to get back out if you choose that ill advised option.
Addison, A. (editor). "The Children's Book of Questions & Answers". London: Berkeley Publishers Limited, 1974.
Photograph by Keystone Press.
One of the many beautiful Art Deco buildings along Ocean Drive in South Beach.
Different perspective: flickr.com/photos/ohadby/84574434/
More on my photoblog: ohad.me
I'm not sure why, but I haven't been very nice to myself at all lately. Which is really stupid. And extremely annoying. Why can't the logical, 47-year old part of me ever seem to overcome the impulsive silly 10-year old?
I suppose it's one of those rhetorical questions that lives beyond the realm of answers. But I definitely need to get my tired old body away from this fucking computer and out into the daylight.
Hmm. That said, perhaps I have it backwards. Maybe it's the work-focused 47-year old who needs overcoming. And maybe it's 10 I should be giving in to, and going out to the woods to play.
Here is my version of the Hideous Zippleback (or at least it's one head).
Yes, it's color is not yellow. But I have no small green parts to replace it with.
(bricklink is the answer for everything, right?)
It's nowhere near complete because of it's large size and will most likely be expensive too.
A full interview with the Israeli painter Raphael Perez (in Hebrew Rafi Peretz) about the ideas behind the naive painting, resume, personal biography and CV
Question: Raphael Perez Tell us about your work process as a naive painter?
Answer: I choose the most iconic and famous buildings in every city and town that are architecturally interesting and have a special shape and place the iconic buildings on boulevards full of trees, bushes, vegetation, flowers.
Question: How do you give depth in your naive paintings?
Answer: To give depth to the painting, I build the painting with layers of vegetation, after those low famous buildings, followed by a tall avenue of trees, and behind them towers and skyscrapers, in the sky I sometimes put innocent signs of balloons, kites.
A recurring motif in some of my paintings is the figure of the painter who is in the center of the boulevard and paints the entire scene unfolding in front of him, also there are two kindergarten teachers who are walking with the kindergarten children with the state flags that I paint, and loving couples hugging and kissing and family paintings of mother, father and child walking in harmony on the boulevard.
Question: Raphael Perez What characterizes your naive painting?
Answer: Most naive paintings have the same characteristics
(Definition as it appears in Wikipedia)
• Tells a simple story to absorb from everyday life, usually with humans.
• The representation of the painter's idealization to reality - the mapping of reality.
• Failure to maintain perspective - especially details even in distant details.
• Extensive use of repeating patterns - many details.
• Warm and bright colors.
• Sometimes the emphasis is on outlines.
• Most of the characters are flat, lack volume
• No interest in texture, expression, correct proportions
• No interest in anatomy.
• There is not much use of light and shadow, the colors create a three-dimensional effect.
I find these definitions to be valid for all my naive paintings
Question: Raphael Perez Why do you mainly choose the city of Tel Aviv?
Answer: I was born in Jerusalem, the capital city which I love very much and also paint,
I love the special Bauhaus buildings in Tel Aviv, the ornamental buildings that were built a century ago in the 1920s and 1930s, the beautiful boulevards, towers and modern skyscrapers give you the feeling of the hustle and bustle of a large metropolis and there are quite a few low and tall buildings that are architecturally fascinating in their form the special one
Also, the move to Tel Aviv, which is the capital of culture, freedom, and secularism, allowed me to live my life as I chose, to live in a relationship with a man, Jerusalem, which is a traditional city, it is more complicated to live a homosexual life, also, the art world takes place mainly in the city of Tel Aviv, and it is possible that from a professional point of view, this allows I can support myself better in Tel Aviv than in any other city in Israel.
Question: raphael perez are the paintings of the city of Tel Aviv different from the paintings of the city of Jerusalem
Answer: Most of the paintings of Jerusalem have an emphasis on the color yellow, gold, the color of the old city walls, the subjects I painted in Jerusalem are mainly a type of idealization of a peaceful life between Jews and Arabs and paintings that deal with the Jewish religious world, a number of paintings depict all shades of the currents of Judaism of today
In contrast, the Tel Aviv paintings are more colorful, with skyscrapers, the sea, balloons and more secular motifs
Question: Raphael Perez Tell us about which buildings and their architects you usually choose in your city paintings
Answer: My favorite buildings are those that have a special shape that anyone can recognize and are the symbols of the city and you will give several examples:
In the city of Tel Aviv, my favorite buildings are: the opera building with its unusual geometric shape, the Yisrotel tower with its special head, the Hail Bo Shalom tower that for years was the symbol of the tallest building in Tel Aviv, the Levin house that looks like a Japanese pagoda, the burgundy-colored Nordeau hotel with the special dome at the end of the building, A pair of Alon towers with the special structure of the sea, Bauhaus buildings typical of Tel Aviv with the special balconies and the special staircase, the Yaakov Agam fountain in Dizengoff square appears in a large part of the paintings, many towers that are in the stock exchange complex, the Aviv towers and other tall buildings on Ayalon, in some of the paintings I took plans An outline of future buildings that need to be built in the city and I drew them even before they were built in reality,
In the paintings of Jerusalem, I mainly chose the area of the Old City and East Jerusalem, a painting of the walls of the Old City, the Western Wall, the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the El Akchea Mosque, the Tower of David, most of the famous churches in the city, the right hand of Moses, in most of the paintings the Jew is wearing a blue shirt with a red male cord I was in the youth movement and the Arab with a galabia, and in the paintings of the religious public then, Jews with black suits and white shirts, tallitas, kippahs, special hats, synagogues and more
I also created three paintings of the city of Haifa and one painting of Safed
In the Haifa paintings I drew the university, the Technion, the famous Egged Tower, the Sail Tower, well-known hotels, of course the Baha'i Gardens and the Baha'i Temple, Haifa Port and the boats and other famous buildings in the city
Question: Have you created series of other cities from around the world?
Answer: I created series of New York City with all the iconic and famous buildings such as: the Guggenheim Museum, the famous skyscrapers - the Chrysler Building, the Empire State Building, Lincoln Center, the famous synagogue in the city, the Statue of Liberty, the flags of the United States and other famous buildings
Two paintings of London and all its famous sites, Big Ben, famous monuments, the Ferris wheel, Queen Elizabeth and her family, the double bus, the famous public telephone, palaces, famous churches, well-known monuments
I created 4 naive paintings of cities in China, a painting of Shanghai, two paintings of the city of Suzhou and a painting of the World Park in the city of Beijing... I chose the famous skyline of Shanghai with all the famous towers, the famous promenade, temples and old buildings, two Paintings of the city of Suzhou with the famous canals, bridges, special gardens, towers and skyscrapers of the city
U.S. Secretary of State John Kerry holds a town hall meeting with Department of State personnel, at the U.S. Department of State, in Washington, D.C. on February 8, 2016. [State Department Photo/Public Domain]
Pictures taken in the early hours of 02/10/2010.
Taken after a night at the cinema & Chinese Restaurant.
Louise's treat for my birthday. That includes her outfit :)
Questions answered in advance ;)
1 - Yes, She was dressed as you see in this picture. Just the two buttons fastened revealing her lace top & cleavage in both the Cinema & the restaurant.
2 - Yes she did attract ALOT of attention. Especially when we arrived at the chinese restaurant.
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ABOUT THE RESTAURANT.....
We was out and about one night when we decided to look for somewhere to have a meal.
We drove through a quiet little village and noticed an old pub that we had been in a few times had been converted to a chinese restaurant. We decided to give it a try.
They had plenty of tables downstairs but upstairs they had a smaller room that had 12, 2 seater tables for couples. Six tables down each side of the room. The food was excellent and the staff were very polite. At the time they were offering a deal on valentines meals for the following month. We enjoyed it so much that we booked a table for a valentines meal. (We actually went here for valentines meal every year until it closed)
We started going regular over a course of 6-7 years. Always booking a late night table upstairs when it was quieter. We even had the whole room to ourselves on a few occasions until it closed down. In all the years we went there we was never bothered once. Until Louise went dressed like this at the same time as a 6 man bachelor party that is :)
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THE RESTRAUNT - 01/10/2010 @ 10.00PM.....
Our table was booked for 10.00pm.
When we arrived we ordered our meals and drinks then followed the waitress upstairs to our usual 2 seater table that i had booked.
As we entered the room following the waitress we heard somebody say...
FUCK ME, Check out that blonde that's just walked in.
When we looked over it was a group of 6 lads sat at 3 tables that had been pushed together for them. One very drunk lad looked straight over at Louise as she looked over.
Nice tits, Get em out for the lads. "He mumbled while laughing"
All but one of them laughed.
Fuck sake Tom, Shut up!. I'm really sorry hes had a skin full "Said the lad that wasn't laughing"
Don't worry about it. "Louise laughed"
The waitress then apologized and asked if we wanted to sit down stairs instead.
No up here's fine. "Louise replied"
Okay. "Replied the waitress"
The waitress sat us in our usual spot which was at the opposite corner of the room to them. She then went over and asked the lads to keep it down and not to disturb the other customers before she left the room.
I heard the lad that told Tom to shut up apologise to the waitress and said they would be leaving soon.
Sounds like they are going soon. "I whispered to Louise"
Louise nodded
After the waitress left the lad that told Tom to shut up came over to us and apologised again.
Tom's my brother, He's getting married in 3 days so he's had a skin full. "He said"
I guess this is his stag night then. "I asked"
Yeah his last night out with the boys as a single man. "He laughed"
It's fine don't worry about it. "Louise replied"
Thanks. "He replied"
Quick love cover your tits up hes coming for a better look. "One of the other lads laughed"
Louise looked over to see Tom coming over but didn't cover herself up.
Tom i told you to stay over there. "He Said"
CHRIS, I want to talk to them too. "Mumbled a very drunk Tom"
He's really come over to get a better look at your tits love. "Laughed a lad from the other table"
Don't listen to him, I'm not. I come over to say nice tits...
His mates all cracked out laughing.
Oh really. "Louise laughed"
...No, No Fuck, I'm so drunk, I mean't to say, Sorry for telling you to get your tits out. It was uncalled for. "Tom mumbled"
So i see, Your very drunk, Don't worry about it. "Louise laughed"
This is my brother that's getting married in 3 days. "Chris Replied"
That explains it, Congratulations mate. "I replied"
Oh, Congratulations on your big day. "Louise replied"
Thanks, I really am sorry. I hope i didn't offend you. "Mumbled Tom"
Not at all, Your not the first and sure as hell won't be the last to shout things like that to me. Besides if it bothered me i wouldn't come out dressed like this would i Tom. "Laughed Louise"
That's true. "Tom mumbled laughing"
The waitress walked through the door with our meals and brought them to our table.
Right, Lets leave them in peace so they can eat. "Said Chris"
Yeah sure. "Said Tom"
They both said goodbye and walked back to their own table.
Everything okay? "Asked the waitress"
Yeah they just came over to apologies. "Louise replied"
Yeah alls good thanks. "I replied"
That's good, If you need anything else just let me know. Enjoy your meals "The waitress replied"
Thanks. "We replied"
Then the waitress walked back out of the room.
As we were just finishing our meals four of the lads left all saying goodnight as they passed by us. Which just left the two brothers. A few minutes later the waitress came back into the room and started to clear the brothers table. As she walked passed us with their plates in her hands she asked if everything was okay with the meals.
Yes Thanks. "We both replied"
Would you like another drink or desert. "She asked"
Yes please, We will get a desert if its not too late. "Louise replied"
Yeah sure, I will be back in a minute. "Replied the waitress"
The waitress then left with the plates from our table too.
Chris came back over to our table on his own..
Sorry to bother you again. "Said Chris"
Its okay. "We both laughed"
I'm going to order a desert for me and another bottle for Tom. We would like to buy you both a drink if that's okay. "Said Chris"
Thanks for the offer mate but i'm driving. "I replied"
You really don't have to. "Louise replied"
Come on let us get you both a drink. "Mumbled Tom from his table"
Honestly mate. I've nearly finished this pint of shandy and that's more than enough gas for me for one night. "I Laughed"
What's your wifes name? "Tom asked"
Louise. "Louise replied"
Come on Louise please let us get you a drink. You can't be driving too. "Tom laughed"
No i'm not driving (She laughed). I really appreciate the offer but i'm okay thanks. "Louise replied"
The waitress walked back in the room with her little note book & pen.
What can i get you? "Asked the waitress"
Apple pie & custard for me. "I asked"
I will have the Millionaires cheesecake please. "Said Louise"
What's Millionaires cheesecake? "Asked Chris"
Its basically a caramel & chocolate cheese cake. "The waitress replied"
Its really nice from here too. "Louise Replied"
She gets it for desert every time we come here. "I said"
Okay, If Louise recommends it i will try a piece too please. "Said Chris"
Yeah sure, "Replied the waitress as she wrote it in her little note book"
Do you want to try it too Tom? "Asked Chris"
Don't think that will go down well with the beer. So just another beer for me bro. "Tom Replied"
A bottle of San Miguel too please. "Said Chis"
The waitress wrote in her little notebook again.
It that everything? "Asked the waitress"
Yes thanks. "Both myself & Louise replied"
Yeah, Can you put all the deserts on my tab please? "Chris asked"
Is that okay? "The waitress asked us"
You really don't have to chris. "Said Louise"
I insist. Neither of you want a drink but you want deserts. "Chris Laughed"
Okay, Thanks. "Louise laughed"
Thanks, We appreciate it. "I replied"
Okay. "Said the waitress and then left the room"
Chris pulled out a chair at the table next to ours.
Do you mind if i sit here? "Asked Chris"
Not at all. "Louise replied"
Thanks. "Chris replied"
Chris then sat down next to us and Tom came over and sat down too.
You don't seem as drunk as your brother. "Said Louise"
No, I'm not a big drinker only had a couple. Lost count how many toms had. "Chris laughed"
Too fucking many. "Tom Mumbled as he laughed"
Nothing wrong with that on a special occasion like yours. "Louise replied"
Nope. "Tom laughed"
You two married? "Tom asked Louise"
6 1/2 years so far. Saying that we have been together for over 20 years. "Louise laughed"
Do less for murder. "I laughed"
Tom, Chris & Louise laughed too.
That's a bloody long time. "Tom Mumbled laughing"
I though my relationship was long at 9 years. "Chris laughed"
You married Chris? "I asked"
8 years now and still going strong. "Chris Laughed"
Nice. "Louise replied"
The waitress walked back into the room with the deserts and placed ours on our table.
We will have ours here if thats ok. "Chris asked"
Yeah sure, Have you finished over there? "The waitress asked"
Yeah. "Tom Replied"
The waitress put Chris's desert & Toms beer on the table next to us for them. Then went over to clean and separate the tables before going back out of the room.
It is nice this isn't it. "Said Chris"
Yeah. I get it every time i come here. "Louise replied"
I can see why. "Chris replied"
We ate our deserts while Tom sat with his bottle of beer occasionally staring at Louise and turning away when he noticed she had caught him.
We had all now finished our deserts and just sat talking for about 10 minutes.
I'm going to the ladies room. "Said Louise"
Okay. "I replied"
Louise swung her legs round from under the table to stand up in the isle.
Omg. "Tom laughed"
Whats up? "asked Chris"
Look at the fucking legs on her. "Tom laughed"
Tom Stop. Your getting married in 3 days. "Chris laughed"
I'm sorry i can't help it. "Tom mumbled"
Louise looked at Tom and laughed then walked out of the room.
I'm sorry mate i just can't help myself. "Mumbled Tom to me"
Don't worry about it mate. "I Laughed"
Your a lucky bastard you are. "Tom Mumbled"
He's going to be giving you a crack in a minute. Shut Up. "Chris laughed"
No I'm not. I'm used to comments like that. "I laughed"
I bet you are. "Chris Laughed"
Yep, Men and even some women stare at her when she's dressed up like that. She likes the attention too. You can stare all you want and say what you want. It doesn't bother either of us. Just don't touch or she will be the one giving you a crack. "I laughed"
That's fair enough. "Tom Mumbled"
Yeah it is. "Chris replied"
Louise walked back into the room.
I never noticed those legs on you when you came walking in earlier. "Tom laughed"
They are definitely mine. "Louise laughed"
Do you even have a skirt on under that shirt. "Tom Laughed"
Yes look, It's a nice little punk skirt. "Louise laughed"
Louise removed her shirt revealing her black lace top, Bra & Mini skirt.
I laughed
Fucking hell fire. "Chris laughed"
How shorts that skirt? "Tom laughed"
It's a punk skirt it's supposed to be short. "Louise laughed"
Myself, Chris & Tom laughed
Tom & Chris were now staring down at Louise's Lace top, Bra & Cleavage.
My eyes are up here. "Louise laughed"
Tom & Chris looked up at Louise laughing.
Can i ask you something Tom? "Laughed Louise"
Yeah sure. "He replied"
Is your future wife the jealous type? "Louise laughed"
I don't think so. "He laughed"
Well you will soon find out if she catches you staring at the tits of other women like you have been mine all night. "Louise laughed"
Myself Louise & Chris started laughing
BUT look at the TITS on you. It's impossible not to stare at your TITS when the women i marry in 3 days is flat chested. "Tom Laughed"
That's true. She is flat chested. "Laughed Chris"
Oh bless ya. "Louise laughed"
See you are a lucky bastard mate. "Tom Laughed"
Yeah luckier than you at least. "I replied"
We all laughed.
Oh well time to call it a night. "Said Louise"
Yeah us too. Taxi is due in 10 minutes. "Said Chris"
It's been nice to meet you both & Good luck with the wedding mate. "I replied"
You too & Thanks. "Replied Tom"
I said my goodbyes as i shook hands with both of them and Louise shook hands with Chris after me. Louise then shook hands with Tom and wished him good look for his wedding.
Louise was just about to put her shirt back on.
Goodbye Louise's tits. I'm going to miss you both so much. "Tom laughed"
We all cracked out laughing.
Louise looked at Tom who was staring at her tits again laughing.
I think your wanting a cuddle aren't you. "Louise laughed"
How did you guess. "Tom Laughed"
Poor sods probably not going to get another chance like this with his future wife being flat chested. "I laughed"
No i won't will i mate. "Tom laughed"
Come on then but keep your hands off my tits. "Louise laughed"
I promise i won't touch em, I don't want a crack. "Tom laughed"
We all laughed
Louise put Toms hands around her waist for a cuddle.
Oh this is awesome mate, I can feel your wives tits pressing on my chest. "Tom laughed"
Oi, Laughed Louise"
Make the most of it mate because its not something your going to feel with a cuddle from your future wife is it. "I laughed"
Everybody cracked out laughing.
He won't even remember any of this tomorrow. "Chris laughed"
Probably not "Tom laughed"
Louise had now put her shirt back on and we headed downstairs with them. We went outside. Their taxi had arrived. We said our last goodbyes and went back to our car.
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind.
Bob Dylan pondered many questions in that iconic song. And of course, there answers were, well, blowin’ in the wind. And that in turn conjures up images of things blowing in the wind, and what better thing to represent that than a simple reed?
We hum (or sing if we are so inclined) that song quite a lot, but often, with a surprisingly cheery lilt. Yet, when it comes down to it, the song isn’t really about cheery things at all, and the questions it asks are not easy ones to ask or answer. Mountains washing to the sea? Cannon balls flying? Doves “sleeping” in the sand?
This tune was indeed running through my head as I was composing this shot. I didn’t, and don’t, have any answers, but it seemed to me that this shot represented the song quite well. The wind for me continues to blow: perhaps one day it will carry to me the answers.