View allAll Photos Tagged pointless
day 41.
i don't know, really.
at all.
like my heel?
yeah...i'm bored. and tired. this was pointless.
VAGINA SHOT
Wider view: www.flickr.com/photos/zacsonoio/1452873209/
Made it into Explore, 28 Sept # 390. Thank you all!
Entrata in Explore il 28 Settembre, #390. Grazie a tutti!
Amtrak's Winter Haven, FL depot still rocks a resplendent pointless arrow logo, a rather busy station with four trains in daylight. November 2023.
(Best viewed large).
Well, you have to do something to alleviate plane boredom.
I love the Sky Mall catalogue. It's full of so many things I will never need. Who dreams this stuff up?
I've ranked them from 1 to 10. What are the most pointless inventions/contraptions that you've come across?
If you enjoy this, check out part 2 of the most pointless items from the Sky Mail catalogue.
1. Be the king of the tailgate! Kick back with your buddy in a very dangerous looking plastic sling on the back of your truck after you've been a-hunting and a-fishing. Or buy a chair.
2. The pop-up hot dog cooker. I don't get this at all. And it looks sinister. Perhaps you need to be American to get it.
3. The Slanket. A cosy all in one for the man about the house. Not dissimilar from Billy Connolly's "Big Slipper".
4. The Indoor Dog Restroom. No, no, no, no, no. Convenience aside, surely nobody wins here.
5. Virtual reality style movie viewers for use during long plane journeys. Strap these on and miraculously the seats around you suddenly free up.
6. The Marshmallow Shooter. I may have been a serious child but I don't understand why you would want to shoot marshmallows. Do you shoot them at people or things? And how much damage does a high velocity marshmallow do?
7. The Crownless Panama Hat. The fast track to sunburn on the top of your head.
8. Jumpin Jammerz. Like the Slanket, more cosy attire to be avoided at all costs.
9. Programmable mouse in the house. Keep your cat occupied while you're out at work with this robot mouse. No need. Cats sleep most of the day.
10. The one handed bracelet fastener. I can fasten bracelets myself - does this make me unusual?
North Korean citizens are permanently mobilized for pointless mass meetings. Maybe the main purpose of those meetings is to keep them busy so that they never get round to reflecting on their miserable lot (and how to improve it!).
Clara was ten years old when she decided that speaking was pointless and locked herself in silence. Her life changed markedly. Fat, kindly Dr. Cuevas attempted to treat her with pills of his own devising, with vitamins in syrup and throat swabbings with borax honey, but all to no apparent effect. He soon realized that his remedies were useless and that his very presence induced a state of terror in the child. Whenever she saw him, Clara would begin to shriek, running for refuge in the farthest corner of the house, where she would huddle like a frightened animal; so he abandoned his treatments and suggested that Severo and Nìvea take her to see a Rumanian named Rostipov, who was causing quite a sensation that season. Rostipov made his living as a magician in vaudeville shows and had achieved the incredible feat of stringing a wire from the pinnacle of the cathedral to the cupola of the Galician Brotherhood, on other side of the plaza, which he walked across with only a frail stick for balance. Despite his more frivolous side, Rostipov had caused an uproar in scientific circles because he spent his free time curing hysteria with magic wands and hypnotic trances. Nìvea and Severo took Clara to the consulting room that the Rumanian had improvised in his hotel. Rostipov carefully examined her. When he had finished, he declared that her case was not within his province to cure, since the child was silent because she did not feel like speaking, not because she was unable to. Nevertheless, at her parents’ insistence, he concocted some lilac-colored sugar pills, which he prescribed with the warning that they were a Siberian remedy for deaf-mutes. But in this case the power of suggestion failed, and the second bottle of pills was swallowed by Barrabàs in a moment of oversight that fortunately had no appreciable results. Severo and Nìvea attempted to make her speak with household remedies, threatening and cajoling and even refusing to let her eat, to see in hunger would force her to open her mouth to ask for food, but that, too, was to no avail.
Nana had the idea that a good fright might make the child speak, and spent nine years inventing all sorts of desperate strategies for frightening Clara, the end result of which was to immunize the girl forever against terror and surprise. Soon Clara was afraid of nothing. She was unmoved by the sudden appearance of the most livid and undernourished monsters in her room, or by the knock of devils and vampires at her bedroom window. Nana dressed up as a headless pirate, as the executioner of the Tower of London, as a werewolf or a horned devil, depending on her inspiration of the moment and on the ideas she got while flipping through the pages of certain horror magazines, which she bought for this purpose and from which, although she was unable to read, she copied the illustrations. She had acquired the habit of gliding silently through the hallways and jumping at the child in the dark, howling through the doorways, and hiding live animals between her sheets, but none of this elicited so much as a peep from the little girl. At times Clara lost her patience. She would throw herself on the floor, kicking and shouting, but without pronouncing a single word in any recognizable tongue; or she would scrawl on the tiny blackboard that never left her side, setting down the worst insults she could think of to say to the poor woman, who would weep disconsolately in the kitchen.
“It’s for your own good, my little angel!” Nana would sob, wrapped in a bloody sheet, her face blackened with burnt cork.
Nìvea forbade her to continue frightening her daughter. She realized the tension in the air increased Clara’s mental powers and disturbed the spirits that were hovering around the child. Besides, that procession of terrifying figures was destroying Barrabàs’s nervous system. He had never had a well-developed sense of smell, and was incapable of recognizing Nana beneath her multiple disguises. The dog would begin to urinate of himself sitting down, leaving an immense puddle all around him, and frequently his teeth would chatter. But Nana took advantage of the slightest distraction on Nìvea’s part to persist in her attempts to cure the child’s muteness with the same remedy she used for hiccups.
The opening night of Pointless Theatre Company's "A Very Pointless Holiday" in the Flashpoint Gallery.
I found out at the party the day before that none of my colleagues were going into the office on Thursday, which kinda mean it was pointless me going in.
The old project team I used to work with still have desks in the old offices, and asked I go in to say hello, so a plan emerged to have a lay in, a shower, then pack, check out, have breakfast before heading to the office at about nine, where I could take part in a Teams meeting inbetween talking to friends.
What I didn't know was what a palaver checking in for my flight would be.
I won't like, I was feeling slightly fragile as dawn broke. I lay in bed, and so must have gone back to sleep, as time was getting on when I checked the time.
I would check in for my flights home.
First of all, checking in itself wasn't hard, but I had to supply two documents to get through UK immigration.
First of all was proof of vaccinations. I only have the cards that we were given at the time of the jabs, I took a photograph of the two cards, but now to get them off the i phone and onto my work laptop.
First of all, no card reader on my new work laptop, and just one USB slot. And no USB slot on the i phone either.
After trying to send the photo to myself, in the end I sent as an e mail attachment back to myself from the i phone and was able to open it on the work computer and download the shot.
Next up was an additional form, the Passenger Locator Form, a requirement of the Home Office. You have to create an account, then fill in several pages of questions. And once completed, send it and save as a PDF and attach that and the picture of the vaccine cards to the form and send to KLM at which point they would review and if OK< submit.
That took an hour.
I finished packing, went down for breakfast, where I was aware it was already half eight and I had my first meeting in an hour.
I eat fruit and have a coffee, and I am done, though a bacon butty would have done me some good. I check out and go out into the car park, load the car and drive to the office. And as it was after nine, roads were quiet, so I reached the office without drama.
It had been 25 months since I was last here, my colleagues are more than that, they're friends, and they had made clear I was to drop in.
I got hugs of each of them, and asked if I was OK.
I confirmed I was OK.
Since we last met, we have been taken over and I have had three bosses, soon to be a 4th, there has been a pandemic and now, possibly a world war coming.
I attend the meetings: the first one advanced training for a system we have yet to receive basic training for. It must make sense to someone. I lose focus pretty quickly. Second meeting IT fails and I had to restart the computer, and by the time I rejoin it was just winding down.
I say goodbye to my friends, and say I'll be back soon.
I had a road trip, a 90 minute drive to Esbjerg to visit my friend Brian who is recovering from a second heart operation. This was to have a bypass, and the news is he is feeling better, but has a long time in recuperation before he can return to work full time. For now he does four hours twice a week.
For the drive, it was motorway almost all the way, and not being rush hour, was easy driving, heck even the sun was shining.
I drive south for an hour to Kolding before taking the E20 east to Esbjerg. I had made this journey dozens of times, but I thought at one point I would never return, yet here I am.
I arrived in Esbjerg, called Brian to get directions to his house, it was easier to meet at the hotel in Hjerting, so I drive along the coast the 10km to meet him.
Brian has aged ten years since I last saw him, I suppose heart problems does that, but he looks well, and his face had good colour and there was a sparkle in his eyes.
I follow him to his house where I meet his partner and we have lunch of open sandwiches with breaded plaice fillets, which is the national dish or something close.
We talk a lot, what is clear is that he is happy, and eager to go back to work so not to let his colleagues down, but accepts it will take time.
IN the middle of the afternoon, we go in his car to take their dog for a walk at a nearby nature reserve.
Marbæk has mixed habitat: heathland, ponds and fir tree woodland, all along a lagoon, sheltered from the North Sea.
As we drove in, a group of the three adult and a single calf highland cows walked lazily over the road. We stopped to take shots.
A while further on, we park up and get out, walk up a track to the beach, turn north with the sea on our left before turning inland and back to the car. We hadn't gone far, but far enough.
We drive back to their house, where it was soon time to go to the hotel where Brian had booked a table for us to have dinner, and as a bonus, a former colleague, Steffen, would be joining us after he had driven hard for five hours from Cuxhaven.
Steffen was delayed, so he told us to order our dinner anyway.
So, we both order burger and Belgian beer, but sadly a regular IPA arrives, as I had to drive an hour afterwards, probably just as well.
Steffen arrives, more hugging, and we talk as Brian and I eat.
Somehow, two hours had past, outside the sun had set, and I had to drive to the hotel at the airport.
I had to leave.
It was dark, but I had drive this road hundreds of times over the years, but I managed to take the wrong turn off the roundabout off the motorway, so in ten minutes I found myself in Varde.
But I had been here before, I knew the way to take, but program the sat nav just in case.
After twenty minutes, I'm back on the main road, and making good time, passing a large turbine nacelle on the way. It was so wide that all traffic in the other direction, like me, had to pass on the verge.
I reach the airport at nine, try to refuel the car but couldn't get the pump to work. I was so tired, I gave up.
Since I was last here, dropping a hire car off, they built a new parking house where the old drop off lot was, but the signs were easy to follow, and I park the car in the first slot.
From there it was a ten minute walk back through the terminal to the hotel, I check in and was given a room on the ground floor. Simple but functional.
Time enough to write a blog, have a shower before going to bed. It was ten o'clock. I had to be up at quarter to four.
I kid ye not.
My flight was at six in the morning.
Night all.
Anyone can knock out an album cover, who can write a review for an album that does not exist....?
Conetta- The World Is My Lobster
Hailing from New York (with plenty of Italy thrown in) this debut from alt-pop gal Connetta (born Connie Manzettta) is at once as quixotic as it is exotic.
With her flair for quick, simple tunes and lyrics that are as funny as they are poignant, Connetta immediately stands above other so called competitors in her so called peer group- why? She doesn't care for the trappings and formulas for stardom. You get the feeling she would play to five as happily as 50,000. For Connetta it's apparent that it's about allowing herself the freedom to be herself.
Still confused? Try listening to "My Red Tricycle" and tell me you are not caught up in the simplicity and beauty of a child's favourite toy. On "It Wasn't Me, It was The Other Three" a blame shift in the manner of George W Bush's failures in Iraq come to mind. I'm no wiser after 10 listens to "Who's The Real Elmo Anyway?" but it has something to do with Facebook banning, Gene Simmons and That Phonecall. "Not Another Fucking Meme" is a light hearted look at the minutes of your life wasted on pointless social networking sites responding to mindless tags and is absolute pop perfection- right down to the people tagged in the liner notes.
In a world where a critic is supposed to be a cynic Connetta takes that frown and turns it upside down- without a hint of cliché.
9.5./10
~~~~~~~~~~~~
1 - Go to "wikipedia." Hit “random... Read More”
or click en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first random wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.
2 - Go to "Random quotations"
or click www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.
3 - Go to flickr and click on “explore the last seven days”
or click www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days
Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
4 - Use photoshop or similar to put it all together.
5 - Post it to FB with this text in the "caption" and TAG the friends you want to join in.
Pointless is a UK TV quiz show where contestants answer a series of questions, previously asked to 100 people, and try to come up with the answer which scored the lowest - thus the name Pointless.
A favourite question asked is about periodic elements so prior to the show airing I get myself ready to play along. I know its cheating but I need all the help I can get on this subject 😉.
110 of 118 pictures in 2018 - Periodic Elements
Best enjoyed large.
I took advantage of another boring plane journey recently to peruse the pages of my favourite in-flight publication, SkyMall magazine. Here are my most pointless items from this edition; see my original choices here.
1. The Pet Observation Porthole. Make a hole in your fence so that your dog can see the outside world. Or take him for a walk.
2. Fling-Ama-String Cat Toy. Another pointless pet product. A piece of string usually does the job, I find.
3. Mount Rushmore garden sculpture. Perfect for the patriotic gardener.
4. Garden Yeti. What every garden needs, if the Mount Rushmore sculpture just doesn't cut it.
5. Pizza Pro. I love this: it's a spatula. And a pair of scissors. Stuck together. Genius.
6. No gooey centers baking pan. For the killjoys who like their brownies hard and inedible.
7. Butter Boy. Allows carefree buttering of trickily shaped corn on the cob. Um - use a knife?
8. Wonder Woman cuff bracelet: "A wry gift for the super woman you know, juggling everything life throws her and then some." I'd like one for Christmas please.
9. Rolling tie cases: Maybe I have to be a man to appreciate this one.
10. Chair protector: Stress-free dining with other people's children! Apparently this is not pointless - half a million of these transparent pieces of plastic have already been sold.
I have read Sumus semper in excremento, sed altitudo variat. This was an utterly pointless thing to do because Latin is all Greek to me. Instead I'll refer to always being in hot water; it's only the depth that varies.
Here is an evident case. This pasta boiler is tall; an elegant solution for small batch water bath preserving. The jars, like the stove are Italian. On the bookshelves is a copy of Pietro Demaio's classic "Preserving the Italian Way". This is l'arte di arrangiarsi, of making do, getting by. The depth of the water must cover the lids of the jars to ensure proper sterilisation! That'll do.
The hungry season is passing as Spring's sowings and perennial plantings come good. But it is not as early promises suggested. The hot and dry weather has stressed the early apples and cherries; compromising fruit, reducing yields. The white transparent and Devonshire quarrenden apples do not like this weather and in rebellion, have or are in the process of shedding their fruit. A white transparent windfall is terminally bruised; likewise the Devonshire quarrenden, at best tiny and delicious in the moment of its perfection. Outside of that moment it makes one wistful about owning a pig — only, I don't do livestock anymore.
In those jars is a sweetened compote of morello cherries and white transparent apples in equal proportion by weight. This is important. Some parts of the world seem incapable of kitchen measurements except by volume! What is a quart of crabapples when they vary so much in diameter, for example? Those three jars aren't much, but in the next hungry season, that compote will brighten a bowl of porridge or stuff a pie.
So it has started. Vacuum sealed sachets of dried apples are in the pantry. Cook's done a batch of her cherry jam — a tart treasure of profound depth in flavour and ruby-red colour. There won't be enough for glacé cherries, thank goodness, nor dried cherries. A dried apple and glacé cherry cake is a wonder; but three weeks of soaking, draining, reduction, repeat? Likewise, splitting each cherry for drying isn't supported, even by putting them in Cook's brownie nonpareil!
We'll eat well on the onions and potatoes, scented with garlic enough to last until the next sowing, beans coming in now — the makings with the basil loving this heat for pasta al pesto, patate e fagiolini — the first tomato, cucumbers to die for, eggplant, capsicum, chili, perhaps some French melons with this heat, and I hand pollinated the first pumpkin flowers just the other day.
The hazelnuts have all gone to the parrots and there's a cockatoo with psittacine beak and feather disease targeting the stone fruit in its desperate state. Walnuts — a two gallon bucket full — will be pickled and ready for the table in February and the nocino is festering away on the bench ahead of who knows what future! Raspberries just do what raspberries do, as the brambles mostly failed in the conditions. The grape trellis of the Riesling variety paying off with shade for those raspberries, possibly wine; verjuice this year or vinegar for the next?
It's all hard work for reward. But this is how we walk the walk, work for a future by knowing the past, reduce our footprint and eat better than possible from a supermarket. It's l'arte di arrangiarsi that I grew up with — only we didn't have words for it.
Just playing with a vanishing point.
--
Purchase this image and learn more about it at the source.
Source: photos.jdhancock.com/photo/2010-09-28-231848-vanishing-po...
As mentioned earlier, having waited and undertaken some photography around the Waverley Estate for something I am currently working on, it appeared pointless to hang about after around a 45 minute wait doing the photographs I needed and so at 11:30, I set off back towards town. Checking the time-table a few times on the way revealed nothing happening up in the West Yard, until reaching the Staniforth Road junction in Attercliffe where a quick glance at the dash mounted phone revealed class 5 working, had pooped out and was making its way out of the Doncaster area. So, 'abart turn' and heading quick-style diverting along through the Tinsley Yard and Catcliffe areas and back in the direction of Treeton which, by the time I arrived, was being deluged with a quick down-pour. Departing 67 minutes late from West Yard at 11:45, the set made short-shrift of the run south, not making any timed pauses and so arrived in the Treeton area, just over an hour late at 12:32. As can be seen, the set consisted of the two class 37s, 37038, ex-D6738, 'Riley & Son (E) Ltd. and, at the back, 37059, ex-D6759 with the Network ail, canary-yellow 'Mentor' test train set in between. These two locos have been seen recently in the area when they were hauling, in double-header style, Pathfinder Tours, 'The Yorkshire Explorer' between Taunton and Leeds and then back again in the evening, see-
www.flickr.com/photos/daohaiku/48029700506/
and here-
www.flickr.com/photos/daohaiku/48029700451/
Without wasting any time, the set rattled south on headcode 5Z01, an Empty Coaching Stock designation though these are usually a 1Q or 3Q for the 'Mentor', 'Mobile Electrical Network Testing, Observation and Recording Coach', test train sets. The some of the material recovered from the Orgreave sidings in the last year or so has still not been removed from the site and a pile of the old sleepers remains piled up at the side of the Treeton Down goods loop on the left. The loop is now the only extra rail-infrastructure now left in this once busy area, all of the the other stuff, cross-over, bits of the remains of that can be seen in the right-hand picture, and the rail of the junction to the north into Tinsley Yard, have all now all been plane-lined; the loop still being used occasionally probably means ti will survive for a while longer.
I always thought it would be funny to see a VCR that included a tape that shows you how to set it up. Of course, if you were able to watch the tape, you wouldn't need it. If you needed the tape, you'd have no way to watch it. A true paradox.
We made our annual trip to London in November. We travel down by coach from Slaithwaite and stay at The Cumberland Hotel at Marble Arch. It’s actually a weekend ladies shopping trip that is run as a fundraiser for Slaithwaite Brass Band – I’m the only bloke that goes every year! We decided ( the two of us) to stay down in London until Thursday this time as we wanted to see weekday London and be able to explore a bit further afield on foot. We covered up to 16 miles a day, which is tough going on crowded pavements with hundreds of busy roads to cross. I photographed anything that looked interesting but I bent a contact in the CF card slot, fortunately I had quite a few SD cards with me and the 5D has dual slots so I was able to carry on using it. It’s currently at Lehmann’s getting fixed.
With it being close to Christmas the decorations are up everywhere so there was plenty of colour at night. In Hyde Park the Winter Wonderland was in full swing, we’ve never bothered going to it before but I went twice at night this time. It is massive this year, I couldn’t get over how big it is and the quality of some of the attractions. The cost and effort involved must be phenomenal – it was quite expensive though. It was very difficult to photograph, with extremes of light (LED’s) and darkness and fast moving rides into the bargain. I think I have some decent usable stuff but at the time of writing I am only part way through the editing process so I don’t know for sure.
We set off at around 8.15 am every day and stayed out for at least 12 hours. The weather was poor for a day and a half with drizzle and very dull grey conditions, fortunately we had some pleasant weather (and light) along the way as well. Being based at the end of Oxford Street – Europe’s busiest shopping street – meant that I did quite a bit of night shooting on there. Although I carried a tripod everywhere I only used it once and that was during the day! Because there is always a moving element in almost every shot it seemed pointless using a tripod. I would have got some shots free of movement – or I could have gone for ultra-long exposures to eliminate people and traffic but it would have been problematic I felt. In the end I wound the ISO up and hand held – fingers crossed.
We walked out to Camden Market and Locks but it had been raining and we were a bit early as many were only just setting up for the day. We tried to follow routes that we hadn’t used before and visit new places. We paid a fortune to get in St Pauls but you can’t use cameras. This something that I fail to see the point of, ban flash if you want but if you are going to encourage tourism why ban cameras when there is nothing in particular happening in there. It’s a rule that seems to be applied arbitrarily in cities around the world. Fortunately we could take photos from the outside of the dome, which was real reason for visiting, and we had some great light. Expensive compared with a couple of euros in some famous cathedrals. I’ve wanted to walk to Canary Wharf for a number of years and this year we did. We crisscrossed the Thames a few times and tried to follow the Thames path at other times. We covered around ten miles but it was an interesting day. It was also very quiet for the last four or five miles. We got there about 12.00 and managed to get a sandwich in a café in the shopping centre at the foot of the high rise office blocks before tens of thousands of office workers descended from above. It was mayhem, packed, with snaking queues for anywhere that sold food. We crossed to the other side of The Isle of Dogs and looked across to the O2 Arena and the cable car, unfortunately there isn’t a way across for pedestrians and it was around 3.00 pm. With darkness falling at around 4.30 we decide it was too late to bother. We made our way back to the Thames Clipper pier to check the sailing times. They sail every twenty minutes so we had a couple of glasses of wine and a rest before catching the Clipper. Sailing on the Thames was a first in 15 trips to London. The Clipper is fast and smooth, the lights had come on in the city and there was a fantastic moon rise. It was nigh on impossible to get good shots at the speed we were traveling though and there were times that I wished I could be suspended motionless above the boat. Again, hopefully I will have some usable shots.
We felt that the shopping streets were a little quieter, following the Paris massacre it was to be expected, I might be wrong as we were out and about at later times than previous trips. I think I have heard that footfall is down though. It was good to get into some of the quieter backstreets and conversely to be stuck in the city business district – The Square Mile- at home time. A mass exodus of people running and speed walking to bus stops and the rail and tube stations. It was difficult to move against or across the flow of bodies rushing home.
Whilst the Northern(manufacturing) economy is collapsing, London is a giant development site, it must be the tower crane capital of Europe at the moment. It was difficult to take a shot of any landmark free of cranes, it was easier to make the cranes a feature of the photo. It’s easy to see where the wealth is concentrated – not that there was ever any doubt about it. The morons with too much money are still driving their Lambo’s and Ferraris etc. like clowns in streets that are packed with cars , cyclists and pedestrians, accelerating viciously and noisily for 50 yards. They are just sad attention seekers. From Battersea to Canary Wharf we walked the Thames Embankment, the difference between high and low tide on the river is massive, but the water was the colour of mud – brown! Not very attractive in colour. We caught a Virgin Train from Kings Cross for £14.00 each – a bargain!. We had quite a bit of time to kill around midday at Kings Cross so I checked with security that I was OK to wander around taking photos, without fear of getting jumped by armed security, and set off to photograph the station and St Pancras International Station across the road. I haven’t even looked at the results as I type this but I’ll find out if they are any good shortly. Talking of security, following Paris, there was certainly plenty of private security at most attractions, I don’t know if it was terrorism related though, I can’t say I noticed an increased police presence on the streets. It took us three hours and five minutes from Kings Cross to being back home, not bad for a journey of 200 miles. I can’t imagine that spending countless billions on HS2 or HS3 is going to make a meaningful (cost effective) difference to our journey. Improving what we have, a little faster, would be good. There are some bumpy bits along the route for a mainline and Wakefield to Huddersfield is the equivalent of a cart track – and takes over 30 minutes – it’s only a stone’s throw.
www.starnow.co.uk/christopherw33618
2020 Reel youtu.be/fXhm5se6H3c
2017 Reel www.starnow.com/media/778224
2016 Reel www.starnow.co.uk/media/623368
2015 Reel www.starnow.co.uk/media/500618
wartimeproductions.co.uk/index.html
Crew CV crew.mandy.com/uk/crew/profile/chris-christopher-wilson
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