Black and white motorcycles
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Larry Lamb and his slippery posse after yet another successful breakout. Everytime they are rounded up these bad boys and girls step up the Houdini act.. Here you can see a couple of the gang members heading off to retrieve some of their stolen loot from their last breakout heist......
Once news of another breakout circulates windows and doors are bolted across the area and people lay wide eyed and sleepless in their beds at night despite the stepped up security vigilance. I was lucky to capture this with them unaware, one wrong move and I was toast - fortunately I held my nerve.........
"It had been three weeks since the cows busted out."
"And the bull, Mother. Don't forget the bull."
"Right. The bull." Mother shook her head and took a long drag on her smoke. It was hand rolled, filterless, soft and slightly limp. Curly brown bits of tobacco stuck to her lipstick. Now and then she'd spit them off, towards the floor, with a little p-choo sound.
"How could I forget the bull. It never would've happened without him. Things like that don't happen by accident you know. They take..." she laughed, and the laugh turned into a hoarse cough. When she recovered, she laughed again and said, "They take balls!"
"So," the reporter asked, "what exactly happened?"
"Well," said Mother. "Like I said, they busted out."
"We think it was the bull's fault," the son said quietly.
"Indeed," said Mother. "Someone busted right through that rail fence, and I just can't believe our girls would do anything that violent."
The reporter looked skeptical. She had heard the stories; had heard all about the Mother's cows and what they'd done.
"I mean," said Mother. "I mean I can't imagine our girls doing anything violent like that to a non-living thing. To just rush a fence like that... and destroy it. It's just not..." she took another long drag, "just not in the Jersey psyche."
Jerseys, Mother continued, were the most beautiful cows of all - both aesthetically and in their dispositions. "Look into those big brown eyes and tell me if you see violence," she challenged. "It's just not there. They don't have it in them. And yet..." she trailed off, stubbed out her smoke and starting rolling another one.
"Okay then," the reporter said, squirming a bit in her chair. "What about the children then? How do you explain it?"
Mother and son exchanged a look. "Self defence," replied the mother. "I got nothing against children." She gestured to the son. "I raised this one, didn't I?"
The son blushed and looked at his lap. "Them town kids are different," he said.
"That's right!" Mother slammed one hand on the kitchen table. "Town kids." She spit towards the floor. "Good for nothing. They don't know. They don't understand. They don't..." and here she leaned in close, breathing smoky, fetid, toothless breath in the reporter's face... "They. Don't. Appreciate."
Images of children in bank vaults, sitting idly, not earning interest, flashed through the reporter's head and for a fleeting instant she almost laughed. Mother didn't notice, and continued with her story.
"Those town kids. They think food comes from the Safeway. They have no respect. No respect at all for other living creatures. Do you know what they were doing that night? Did you hear? Did you get THAT from your sources?" And she sneered. The local media had, for weeks now, been running stories built on fear and innuendo... quoting so-called anonymous sources. The children had been trampled. The children had been eaten. The children had been regurgitated and rechewed, like so much cud. Bones - small, child sized bones - had been found in the manure pile.
All of this was, in fact, true. But Mother wasn't about to admit it. "Do you know what those kids were doing?" she asked again.
"They came across the cows in the graveyard."
"And the bull," said the son. "Don't forget the bull."
"Right," said the Mother. "They came across the cows - and the bull - in the graveyard. And they..." She started sobbing. "They sexually abused them!"
That too, was true. The children - mostly boys - had poked long pointed sticks into the cows from behind. And then tried inserting many other, various things... including bits of their own anatomy. This was known because certain bits of certain boys had remained in situ, once it was all over.
"We can only reckon what happened after that, but it seems to me the bull took exception." Mother shrugged. Sighed. Wiped at her tears with big rough hands. Things had been so difficult since the incident with the children. "We think it must've been the bull who turned the whole event on its ear," she said. "Attackers becoming the attacked. Like that." And she stood and walked away from the table.
"What about...?" the reporter wanted details, wanted something new.
But Mother stood at the kitchen sink, looking out the window and announced, "I'm sorry. The interview is over."
The reporter stood, gathered her things and couldn't help feeling... in spite of it all.... empathy for the old woman. She'd lost her herd; lost her livelihood; was now reviled by an entire community... and, on top of that, was facing a string of civil lawsuits brought by the families of the dead children. Was it really her fault that a fence broke? That cattle got loose? And that children interfered with them? Surely the cattle's unexpected reaction wasn't the old woman's doing.
Mother watched the reporter drive away; felt relief as the sound of the car dimmed in the distance. Gentle lowing rose up from the basement, and the Mother smiled.
"Come on, son. Grab those chops. It's time to tend our girl."
And down the stairs they went together, arms full of raw meat, to feed the little Jersey calf who'd slipped out... born prematurely in the chaos of the court-ordered round-up and slaughter of Mother's herd. She and the son had spirited the calf away, wrapped in blankets and hidden under brush on the trailer they were using to haul off the carcasses.
Now they knelt in front of the little heifer's makeshift stall in the basement, and fed her strips of raw pork, raw chicken, raw beef. The heifer opened wide, and showed her little pointed teeth. Carnivorous teeth. No grass or hay for this girl.
And when she was old enough, she would be inseminated. Mother had the big aggressive, breakout bull's semen stashed in vials in the freezer. It would be the start of a whole new herd... and a whole new way of life.
.... after a brief hiatus it was time to get back into taking photographs, so this morning with frost covering the ground and mist rising from the valley I ventured out with Alan Daniel into the wilds of Hartley...it was so good to be out and about and to post a fresh new image....❄️😄
Hi everyone! I will be leaving early Friday morning for an extended weekend trip to Asheville, NC. Returning end of day next Tuesday. I'll be trying to get caught up here tonight and some tomorrow but after that I expect to be mostly away until we return from NC. And I hope to come back with bunches of photos to play with!
Thanks to everyone for your kind comments, awards and faves! I always tell myself that I will go through and thank each individual on each image but I never seem to have enough time. So please know that all of you are very much appreciated!!!
at the end of this lane is the big wide world.
This view is the first thing I see when going to work.
Happy weekend everyone:)))
uk.youtube.com/watch?v=yXL9AkXzlt8
ps - this was taken last autumn:))
PPS - YOU REALLY NEED TO SEE THIS LARGE TO GET THE DETAIL
Stuck in the herd? Grrrr! I wanna break out! I wish I had more opportunity to photograph loose horses or ponies. But I get in trouble for chasing them, to get some movement! Meeeeee? As if I could ever run as fast as them! And besides they bite too, and I have been! Despite the threats I must try to get more shots even if I put myself in the biting/trampling line!
A broken part of the wall fence guarding the Joliet Correctional Center in Joliet, IL. The prison, first opened in 1858 as the state's first, was closed in 2002. This portion was most likely damaged during a major fire in 2013.The fire department was unable to access the prison through the gates and had to go over the walls to battle the major blaze...
craigy389malefashion.wordpress.com/2017/11/18/bachelor/
[BREAKOUT] The Bachelor Outfit HUD-Driven
CREDITS
DECOR BY
Aʟʟiєєєєєєє ‘Goʌт’ Dєvєʀєʌυҳ (lilly.sunflower)
AND Ivɣ ‘Avʌ’ Dєvєɾєʌυҳ (ivycharming)
craigy389malefashion.wordpress.com/2017/11/12/the-special...
This past week I got my first blog sponsor, Breakout, a store for both men and women’s fashion. And naturally with such an awesome sponsor, I had to do an equally epic photo. This outfit, “The Specialist”, had me thinking along the lines of Sylvester Stallone or some other equally badass hero. So I went in search of danger, a.k.a. a sim for a sweet action shot.
If you haven’t been to Binemist yet, I definitely recommend it. It’s a photographers wet dream (you can rezz there if you’re in the group)…and even more so I recommend a visit to Breakout. If you’re not a badass like Stallone, they’ll at least help you look like you might be.
Outfit – [BREAKOUT] The Specialist Outfit HUD-Driven
*Insert clever description here*
Honestly, I couldn't get a good pic of this build, anyone feel like providing me with some photography tips because my skill in the subject sucks, that and this pic doesn't do the build justice.
(I've got about 5 other pics of this build on my stream if you want to see them just ask and I'll tag you)
Anyway, this was originally going to be a star wars build which was originally going to be a LoTR build, but until now I just couldn't build anything worthwhile.
Anyway, the build was inspired by an episode of WWII in color yesterday, that just happened to be on when I was supposed to be studying for my Spanish final.
As always, C&C is appreciated and TFVAHAGD!
P.S. the build was originally going to be bigger, but I ran out of dark tan plates and bricks.
Home again after a 5000 km drive through five provinces with 1150 images on my camera, this trip was kind of a Covid breakout to visit family not seen in two years and catch a few sights along the way. We traveled by the seat of our pants - as weather and Covid regulations allowed - redirecting as needed. At one point emergency measures were reinstated in New Brunswick and we had to hastily register via smartphone to drive through the province on the way home. It was a busy period that didn't leave much time (or cellular data) for Flickr. Now home again, I'll catch up with you, which will take me a couple of weeks.
This image was shot as night fell and I liked the tranquility of the scene. I wanted light trails of a long exposure from cars driving through but as luck would have it, September is pretty quiet with little traffic - just one vehicle. It made for a quiet time camping, which suited us just fine.
When explanations make no sense
When every answer's wrong
You're fighting with lost confidence
All expectations come
The time has come to make or break
Move on don't hesitate
"Breakout"
1986 Swing out Sister ;-)))