View allAll Photos Tagged speculation
Speculation about a royal engagement had been growing in recent months, after Suits star Meghan, 35, was pictured visiting Harry, 32, at Kensington Palace in London, making a public appearance with him during a polo match, and quietly closing her lifestyle blog....
"I cannot answer that question. I can only speculate." David Sedaris
Question: What is the greatest engine for Truth created by Humanity in the legal systems of the world?
ANSWER: ________________ Yes, cross-examination!
Reflection: In legal testimony given across the world, how much is mere speculation passed off as: "This is the truth as I remember the facts." Oh, thank you for that great engine of TRUTH that some countries employ to attempt to weed out the lies and speculations.
EXPLORE at www.flickr.com/explore/2008/02/24
# 190 on February 28, 2008
# 403 on November 10, 2012
# 295 on August 7, 2022
"The Merchant's House Museum, known formerly as the Old Merchant's House and as the Seabury Tredwell House, is the only nineteenth-century family home in New York City preserved intact—both inside and out. Built "on speculation" in 1832 by Joseph Brewster, a hatter by trade, it is located at 29 East Fourth Street, between Lafayette Street and the Bowery in Manhattan. It became a museum in 1936, founded by George Chapman, a cousin of the family who once lived there.
The House was among the first 20 buildings designated in 1965 under the City's new landmarks law. It is the only historic house museum in the Greenwich Village/Soho/NoHo neighborhoods.
NoHo, short for North of Houston Street (as contrasted with SoHo), is a primarily residential neighborhood in Lower Manhattan in the New York City borough of Manhattan. It is bounded by Mercer Street to the west and the Bowery to the east, and from East 9th Street in the north to East Houston Street in the south.
The New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission has declared most of the 125-building area a historic district, divided into the NoHo Historic District and the NoHo East Historic District, created in 2003.
New York, often called New York City or NYC, is the most populous city in the United States. With a 2020 population of 8,804,190 distributed over 300.46 square miles (778.2 km2), New York City is also the most densely populated major city in the United States. The city is within the southern tip of New York State, and constitutes the geographical and demographic center of both the Northeast megalopolis and the New York metropolitan area – the largest metropolitan area in the world by urban landmass. With over 20.1 million people in its metropolitan statistical area and 23.5 million in its combined statistical area as of 2020, New York is one of the world's most populous megacities, and over 58 million people live within 250 mi (400 km) of the city. New York City is a global cultural, financial, and media center with a significant influence on commerce, health care and life sciences, entertainment, research, technology, education, politics, tourism, dining, art, fashion, and sports. New York is the most photographed city in the world. Home to the headquarters of the United Nations, New York is an important center for international diplomacy, an established safe haven for global investors, and is sometimes described as the capital of the world." - info from Wikipedia.
The fall of 2022 I did my 3rd major cycling tour. I began my adventure in Montreal, Canada and finished in Savannah, GA. This tour took me through the oldest parts of Quebec and the 13 original US states. During this adventure I cycled 7,126 km over the course of 2.5 months and took more than 68,000 photos. As with my previous tours, a major focus was to photograph historic architecture.
Now on Instagram.
Some time in the summer of July 2010, I got into the hire car, drove for two hours through the Alps and parked not far from the eglise of one of those exquisite hamlets that only seem to exist in France. From the square I looked upwards to the west, clenched my teeth and began the long walk to the top of the Col du Noyer – straight along the middle of the steep mountain road. It was a long while ago and I don’t remember much about the climb, apart from a jovial conversation alongside speculation on exactly how much action the family who’d set up camp at the bottom of a long strait on a hairpin bend would see. That tested my schoolboy French from almost thirty years earlier I can tell you. I also recall strolling past a young and sweaty red skinned man, bearded and wearing an Australian flag as he made his own way up the slope. He couldn't say much as there clearly wasn't enough oxygen available. Apart from these moments, and wondrous Alpine views I saw little. I knew I didn’t have to worry about any traffic coming along towards me either of course, because the road had been closed until later.
You might imagine my dismay on reaching the top of this wild and empty paradise to find a temporary parking area crammed with hundreds of cars. I shuldn't have been surprised really. It seemed they’d all come up from the western side of the mountain to watch the race. Suddenly the silence was filled with a welter of sensory overload, a cacophony that would only increase in volume later as events in the valley below approached. Everywhere I looked, there were flags of all nations, especially Europeans. The Dutch, the Belgians, the Danes, the French of course, and the wildly enthusiastic Basques from Bilbao and San Sebastian were all present in great numbers. I love seeing how events like this bring us together in that great big melting pot.
Watching a bike race from the roadside is quite an unusual sort of experience. Long periods of anticipation are punctuated (in Le Tour at least) by the crazy caravan, a carnival from which bouncing fresh faced youngsters eject enormous volumes of pointless but irresistible merchandise in the direction of the expectant crowds, who dive upon worthless trinkets as if gold nuggets had been rained upon the roadside. I'd say it were unseemly if I hadn't done a little scrabbling in pursuit of mini bags of Haribo and Skoda key rings for myself. For a while there is silence once more as we crane our ears to the west, and then the distant thrum of unseen helicopters in the valley below – a sound that gradually increases in volume until they begin to appear, whirring loudly and still below us, but drawing nearer as they herald the imminent approach of the riders. And then the moment we’ve all been awaiting arrives when the elite cyclists, the best in the world no less, come racing past in the blink of an eye. On that occasion in France the whole lot of them came over the mountain pass together – the moment of magic passing in under one minute. And then we go home – all the way back down the mountain towards the car, past the still sweating Australian and the by now slightly inebriated French family who saw very little as they stoked the barbecue while the cyclists flew past at breakneck pace.
Today, the action was much closer to home as the Tour of Britain started with stage one taking place in our own Cornwall. In comparison to that hot mountain afternoon eleven years earlier, this was a much easier operation to undertake. A five minute drive to the in laws and a stroll down the hill brought us to Falmouth Road in Redruth. We even had a buffet on hand as the blackberries are in season right now and handfuls of them were dangling from a stray bramble at the wall beside us. We waited as increasing numbers of locals dragged themselves from their Sunday rest to watch the cyclists race pass, camera phones primed and ready for the critical moment.
There were quite a few candidates for this post, because with the 70-200mm lens on the camera in burst mode, I got quite excited by the results. If we are friends on Instagram you might have seen some more of the images from the brief moment in which the athletes raced along the long sweep of Falmouth Road. But this one caught my eye, and not just because the world champion, Julian Alaphilippe and two of the greatest sprinters of the last fifteen years, Mark Cavendish and Andre Greipel fill the centre of the shot. It’s the two ladies on the right hand side with their mobile phones that tell the story of how events like this connect everyone, even if only for moments. Where else in top level sport can you enjoy moments like this? Together we all smiled and agreed it had been brief, but fun. And then we went home again.
Interstellar matter and dust Banquet of interstellar dust matter and looking at the internal threads of our galaxy somewhere between Centaur Sagittarius and the powerful Scorpio in the constellation Ophiuchus, where the secular horse galloping our imagination inside the stars. The main disc of our galaxy has a diameter of 80,000 to 100,000 light-years, the perimeter 250 to 300 000 light years and a thickness of about 1,000 light years. It consists of 200 up to 400 billion stars. If we define a natural scale and assume that the Milky Way has a diameter of 130 km, the solar system would have a length of 2 mm. The Galactic Halo extends over a diameter of 250,000 and 400,000 light years. As reported extensively in the galaxy structure below, new research has shown that the disk extends much more than we thought until last. Officially, since 2005, the Milky Way is now considered to be a large barred spiral galaxy SBbc type the Hubble sequence (small barred spiral helix) with a total mass of 600 to 3,000 billion solar masses (M☉) [5] [6], comprising from 200 to 400,000,000,000 stars. The galactic disk has an estimated diameter of about 100,000 light years. The distance of the Sun from the center of the galaxy is estimated at 26,000 light years. The disc is protuberant in the center and symperikleietai from the so-called thick disk. The Sun (and thus the Earth and the Solar System) is quite close to the inner ring of the Arm of Orion, local cloud, at 7,94 ± 0,42 kpc from the Galactic Center. The distance between the local arm and immediately nearest, the Perseus Arm, is of the order of 1 · 1019 m (6.500 light years). The Sun and by extension the solar system, located in what scientists call the Galactic Habitable Zone. The direction of the Sun's path (apix or corymb), refers to the direction of the Sun as it travels in the Galaxy. The general direction of galactic motion of the Sun is near the constellation Hercules, at an angle of approximately 86 degrees from the Galactic Center. The orbit of the Sun in the Galaxy is expected to be approximately elliptical with the addition of influences from the galactic arms and uneven mass distribution. We are currently 1/8 of the track before perigalaxio (the shortest distance from the center of the Milky Way). The solar system takes about 225-250000000 years to complete an orbit (one Galactic Year), so speculation has performed approximately 20-25 orbits during its lifetime. The orbital speed of the Solar System is 217 km / sec, ie. One light-year every 1,400 years, and 1 AU in 8 days.
“But as for certain truth, no man has known it,
Nor will he know it; neither of the Gods
Nor yet of all the things of which I speak.
And even if by chance he were to utter
The perfect truth, he would himself not know it;
For all is but a woven web of guesses.” [Parmenides]
So, I've just finished watching the Season 3 finale for The Flash, so there will be spoilers ahead. You've been warned.
It was a good finale, though I didn't find it as emotional as the last episode. There were things that have me ideas, and that's what this post is about.
The first idea I had, which won't happen, was that there would be two Barrys for Season 4. I feel like that would've been interesting, like an "Oh, here's how we beat [Blank]." And the character growth would've been cool to see. But he died, so that won't happen.
Savitar name-dropped DeVoe, his second name-drop in this season I believe. Therefore, I think it's safe to assume that DeVoe, or the Thinker, will be the Season 4 Big-Bad. In case you don't know, he's the purple guy in the photo.
Because Barry left, I think Wally may get to wear the suit, which I have mixed feelings about. Another thing was if Jesse was protecting Earth-3 while Jay was away, but Jay's back now, and Harry may be back for good, does that mean both Jesse and Harry will be series regulars next season? I think that'd be cool. Since we're talking about speedsters, I think it's time I mentioned Black Flash. Is he gone for good? Caitlyn froze him, and he crumbles to pieces, but if he could be permanently killed like that why didn't Eobard have Snart do that in Legends? I hope he's still up-and-running (pun intended) because I like the character. But the biggest thing I saw was the storm. In The Flash Rebirth #1, there was a speed-force storm which gave a bunch of citizens the same powers as the Flash. I mentioned this in my Lightning Bug story. I think it'd be cool for them to do that, and have Barry or Wally be thrust into teaching them, although because I've heard lots of things complaint about too many speedsters, and the show-writers aren't making another speedster Big-Bad, I fear it may not happen.
Anyways, those are my ideas/speculations. What are yours? Let me know in the comments. And in case you were wondering, H.R. was totally copied from Max Williams because I think it's a great custom. Thinker is made from Captain Hook's head, LBM Catwoman's cowl, and Magneto's torso. Enjoy, and have a nice day.
With the speculation flying through the air on what the final ever class 66 that was being built for the UK rail network would be painted in was final put to rest on 10th May when it was officially unveiled to the public at the ever famous National Railway Museum at York. Along with its colour scheme of BR Green it was also named Evening Star to mark the ending of an era just like 92220 did back in 1960 when it became the final ever steam locomotive to be built by British Railways.
Having spent the best part of its time around the turn table inside the Museum ever since being unveiled at the beginning of last month, it was then moved outside to await its collection to take it back to Doncaster where it will be commissioned for service before heading into traffic on revenue diagrams for GBRf. It is seen here parked at the far gate of the NRM Compound in the summer sunshine with the classic traction of Napier Deltic D9009 parked in front of it.
With another boat-load of new traction delivered to Kingmoor the knock-on effect on the older DRS traction will become apparent once these new locomotives come into service. There's *rumours* that even more Class 68s are going to be ordered and there's *anticipated speculation* that DRS will be making Class 37/4s available for sale once surplus to requirements.
37419 tnt 37688 1Q14 at Manchester Piccadilly 28/09/2013
What could cause a huge cylindrical mountain to rise from the surface of Venus? Such features that occur on Venus are known as coronas. Pictured here in the foreground is 500-kilometer wide Atete Corona found in a region of Venus known as the Galindo. The featured image was created by combining multiple radar maps of the region to form a computer-generated three-dimensional perspective. The series of dark rectangles that cross the image from top to bottom were created by the imaging procedure and are not real. The origin of massive coronas remains a topic of research although speculation holds they result from volcanism. Studying Venusian coronas help scientists better understand the inner structure of both Venus and Earth. via NASA ift.tt/2e9hMOr
The Beatles recorded "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" in March 1967. The song has been recognised as a key work in the psychedelic genre.
It was written primarily by John Lennon and credited to the Lennon–McCartney songwriting partnership. Lennon's son Julian inspired the song with a nursery school drawing that he called "Lucy – in the sky with diamonds". Shortly before the album's release, speculation arose that the first letter of each of the title nouns intentionally spelled "LSD". Lennon repeatedly denied that he had intended it as a drug song. He attributed the song's fantastical imagery to his reading of Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland books.
John Lennon said that his inspiration for the song came when his three-year-old son Julian showed him a nursery school drawing that he called "Lucy – in the Sky with Diamonds", depicting his classmate Lucy O'Donnell. Julian later recalled: "I don't know why I called it that or why it stood out from all my other drawings, but I obviously had an affection for Lucy at that age. I used to show Dad everything I'd built or painted at school, and this one sparked off the idea." Ringo Starr witnessed the moment and said that Julian first uttered the song's title on returning home from nursery school. Lennon later said, "I thought that's beautiful. I immediately wrote a song about it."
According to Lennon, the lyrics were largely derived from the literary style of Lewis Carroll's novel Alice in Wonderland. Lennon had read and admired Carroll's works, and the title of Julian's drawing reminded him of the "Which Dreamed It?" chapter of Through the Looking Glass, in which Alice floats in a "boat beneath a sunny sky". Lennon recalled in a 1980 interview: It was Alice in the boat. She is buying an egg and it turns into Humpty-Dumpty. The woman serving in the shop turns into a sheep and the next minute they are rowing in a rowing boat somewhere and I was visualizing that.
Paul McCartney remembered of the song's composition, "We did the whole thing like an Alice in Wonderland idea, being in a boat on the river ... Every so often it broke off and you saw Lucy in the sky with diamonds all over the sky. This Lucy was God, the Big Figure, the White Rabbit." He later recalled helping Lennon finish the song at Lennon's Kenwood home, specifically claiming he contributed the "newspaper taxis" and "cellophane flowers" lyrics. Lennon's 1968 interview with Rolling Stone magazine confirmed McCartney's contribution.
Rumours of the connection between the title of "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" and the initialism "LSD" began circulating shortly after the release of the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band LP in June 1967. McCartney gave two interviews in June admitting to having taken the drug. Lennon later said he was surprised at the idea the title was a hidden reference to LSD, countering that the song "wasn't about that at all", and it "was purely unconscious that it came out to be LSD. Until someone pointed it out, I never even thought of it. I mean, who would ever bother to look at initials of a title? ... It's not an acid song."
McCartney confirmed Lennon's claim on several occasions. In 1968 he said: When you write a song and you mean it one way, and someone comes up and says something about it that you didn't think of – you can't deny it. Like "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds," people came up and said, cunningly, "Right, I get it. L-S-D," and it was when [news]papers were talking about LSD, but we never thought about it.
In a 2004 interview with Uncut magazine, McCartney confirmed it was "pretty obvious" drugs did influence some of the group's compositions at that time, including "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds", though he tempered this statement by adding, "It's easy to overestimate the influence of drugs on the Beatles' music." (derived from wikipedia)
The scary staircase at Dunino Den.
Theres a lot of speculation about the ancient Den, some say witches used it for demonic rituals, some say its a Druid hangout, others say pagan worship.
Regardless, its a great natural wonder and a great place to explore. Various offerings haunt the site; upon an upturned tree stump, bangles, coins, ribbons and shells are placed as gifts to whatever gods or spirits care to notice.
the one thing that stands out is the amount of coins littering the place!
Theres supposedly a face carved into the rock not unsimilar to the Green Man, but we couldnt find it.
next time perhaps.... if the spirit of the forrest allows!!!
B.L.A.D.E was hired by the MOD in the 2020's for a "Classified" reason. Speculations have been made towards the MOD's actions, Many believe it was due to the UK armed forces being spread too thinly out around the Globe fighting alongside old enemies. B.L.A.D.E's technology was created, invested in and produced by one company which made its millions producing a new greener, cleaner energy source;
"The Thoreum Energy Plants".
These Thoreum Plants now power every house, every vehicle and even your average mobile device.
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Troop count total = 25 Personell
- 6 Standard Troopers
- 11 Specialists
- 3 Drivers/engineers
- 5 Elites
- 1 Battle mech (Hopefully more sometime soon)
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So here it is my up to date faction. Yes I know the Clone torso's are not brilliant, However I do have an Ideal torso in mind, These. But I'm not made of money so it could be a while before I buy them.
Im also thinking about turning my APC's into Tanks, and making another one :3
Speculation: He needed to make a call, but couldn't dial with gloves. So he took off his boot to use his toes. Then he saw there was no phone and ... oh never mind. White Cloud, Kansas.
Following much recent speculation about the firm's future, and an emergency council meeting on Wednesday, the end came on Friday 24 January for Halton Borough Transport. I happened to be in Liverpool for a short while on Tuesday, and took a shot of one of the fleet's former Metrobus Scanias, not expecting it to be the final time I saw one of them in service. Although I made a couple of trips over to Widnes for the final two days of operation, none of these Scanias turned out on normal service while I was there.
Tomorrow, the submarines at Disneyland close for an extended overhaul projected to last into September. Speculation had suggested that due to planned construction in Tomorrowland, and unplanned budget woes, the submarines may actually never return...I certainly hope that is NOT the case, as the submarines have always been one of my very favorites, having great sentimental value to me as well...
Truth be told, I had heard about the closing of the submarines, and planned for this shot at the first opportunity of a good sunset. December 18th was a photo meetup day for many of us local to Disneyland, and I kept an eye on the sky all day from work thinking this might be an epic evening, at least for California sunsets. I reached the park just as the sun went down and made a beeline for the Monorail platform, while everyone else went to Paradise Pier in DCA which was also a great choice.
As it turned out, I got my shot, and hopefully it won't be the last we see of the submarines at Disneyland...
37424 (or 37558) 'Avro Vulcan XH558' heads north over Ravenglass Viaduct with the 14.37 Barrow-in-Furness - Carlisle on Thurs 28th December 2017.
Quite a lot of speculation at the moment about the 37's being replaced on these services by top & tailed 68's at some stage, maybe sooner rather than later......
Happy 17th Birthday to the girls with a passion for fashion!
After much speculation, I can finally & officially confirm some HUGE news with you guys that I have had to keep under wraps for quite some time. I have partnered with toy company MGA Entertainment to design an exclusive collection of #BRATZ Collector dolls to be released in Fall 2018!! 😭❤️
I’ve been a huge Bratz fan since their debut in 2001, so this is something I have wanted to do since I was a kid, and I am beyond excited that it’s now come to fruition! A true dream come true!!!
I went to L.A last year to work on the project & was hands on with every detail. Having creative freedom on every single detail including designing their outfits, choosing fabrics, hair colours, accessories, make-up & more. We want to make sure these dolls are perfect, and appreciate your continued patience and support. I promise it’ll be worth the wait!! My goal was to focus on giving Bratz fans the sassy, cutting edge & fashion forward dolls we grew up with, but with fresh & modern styling that brings the dolls into 2018 & beyond!
I have to say a huge thank you to the CEO of MGAE, Isaac Larian who believed in my vision & who made this partnership a reality. I can't wait for everyone to see the dolls & hope you will all be proud & go support them 💋 #BratzXHaydenWilliams #BratzCollector #BratzDolls #Bratz2018 #PassionForFashion
Demonstration against property speculation. The rap music wasn't great, but the energy was. OranienStrasse, Berlin.
© Ben Heine || Facebook || Twitter || www.benheine.com
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For more information about my art: info@benheine.com
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A Flower Will Grow and Grow
A poem by Peter S. Quinn
A flower will grow and grow
And give every petals show
Of love colors up and close
In shades that to summer flows
Of every nature's true choice
Is given much speculation
With every tincture’s rejoice
In its step by step gradation
Their moments are never lost
They give of their pleasure’s glow
Of foliage green to yellow rust
As season in its moment's go
Like blue sky in dreams high
Following new twilight's dawn
Where every our fortunate lie
To carry our good judgment on
A life is like a flower of living
Growing its leaves from steam
Every its laudable there giving
Both of reality and of its dream
There is always speculation about the references to drugs in the song, "Puff the Magic Dragon", but as with many songs in the 1960s, we read far too much into it.
If you listen to the song and the words, it's actually about a friendship between a boy and his dragon friend, and about growing up. It ends quite sadly. Lyrics below.
I guess this is my interpretation of the song, although Puff's friend is a young girl here.
Listen & enjoy:
Puff The Magic Dragon -- Peter, Paul & Mary ~ Live 1965
Created for the Magnificent Manipulated Masterpieces 113th MMM WHATS IN THE SKY Challenge
Artwork ©jackiecrossley
© All rights reserved. This image may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed, posted or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic, mechanical, photocopying & recording without my written permission. Thank you.
Stock used:
E-S Genesis Dragon by Elevit-Stock
Laila In the Sun - by KarahRobinson-Art
Forest Mountain - Unrestricted by Cat-in-the-Stock
Shaded Mushroom PNG STOCK by KarahRobinson-Art
Stock ideas: Ps Boss.
Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honali
Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal Puff
And brought him strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff
Oh, Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honali
Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honali
Together they would travel on a boat with billowed sail
Jackie kept a lookout perched on Puff's gigantic tail
Noble kings and princes would bow whene'er they came
Pirate ships would lower their flags when Puff roared out his name
Oh, Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honali
Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honali
A dragon lives forever, but not so little boys
Painted wings and giant's rings make way for other toys
One gray night it happened, Jackie Paper came no more
And Puff, that mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar
His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain
Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane
Without his lifelong friend, Puff could not be brave
So Puff, that mighty dragon, sadly slipped into his cave
Oh, Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honali
Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honali
Music for today : Wall Street wail by Duke Ellington
Just at the right time to post that shot!!
this morning all the financial markets enclosed with a decline for a countless day anymore!!
Financial crisis is on the world, anybody can changes that; governments try to repair the system but the system have to repair himself!
The world is in an economic crisis because a little part of bankers and richs businessman take part in speculation using immaterial money created by the subprimes, property credits, popular savings to earn more and more money!! but the system return to himself. next to the property crisis, now it's financial cisis.
And on these times of crisis, some of them, continue earning money because they gamble with the stock exchange decline!
The detriment is for all the bank employees who lose their job, but this regulation by the emptiness will clean a rotten economical system!!
There is some months people in Africa and Asia cannot find bread and food and some United Nations representatives told that it need 70 billions to feed the world.
And today we assist to a debauchery of money by Central Banks: 800 billions $ for U.S. Federal Reserve, 300 billions €for Europe Central Bank and 4000 billions Of Yen for Bank Of Japan....
Our world is crazy my dear friends....
.../...
Juste au bon moment pour poster cette image!! ce matin les places financières ont encore clôturer à la baisse pour une énième fois!!
Le monde économique est en crise, les gouvernements font tout leur possible pour tenter de le réparer, mais celui-ci doit se soigner par lui-même.
la crise est à nos portes car depuis de nombreuses années, banquiers et boursicateurs jouent l'argent immatériel produit par les subprimes, crédit immobiliers, épargne populaire. Mis le système s'est retournée contre lui-même, apres la crise immobilière, voila que découle de ça la crise banquière.
Et en ces temps de crise, comme certains spéculent sur la baisse de la bourse, en ce moment des banquiers s'en mettent plein les poches en spéculant sur les chutes des places financières!!
Il y a quelques mois en Afrique et en Asie, la population réclamait du pain et de la nourriture, les matières premières étant manquantes, un rapport de l'ONU rappelait que 70 à 80 milliards d'euros étaient nécessaires pour "nourrir le monde"
Et aujourd'hui on assiste à des débauches d'injection d'argent: La réserve fédéral américaine (FED) a injecté 700 milliards de dollars, la banque central européene (BCE) elle 300 milliards d'euros et la Banque du Japon (BOJ) 4000 milliards de yens réspectivement dans les marchés nationaux pour sauver les banques et les agences de crédit!
Notre monde est complétement fou...
I'm now on facebook, if you got it, check my profile:
www.new.facebook.com/people/Julien_Ratel/585303328
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On Explore Oct 9, 2008 #399
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When I was in high school there was speculation the the C&NW needed to buy new locomotives for its Chicago area commuter service. There was a claim the the C&NW had ordered FP45s with head end power units instead of steam generators. In 1970 the C&NW ended the speculation by purchasing four KCS E units, including 5031B, which was originally KCS 23. Imagine the shock to a loyal North Western fan; E8As with number boards. The first time I remember seeing a C&NW E8A that did not have a bald nose. CNW E8A 5031B
Mount Prospect, Ill., June, 1970.
Photo by Jim Lewnard.
Frame#7006-34
Light and shadow on Trillium Pond causing a speckled pattern. The water was peppered by Black Locust blossoms.
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28/100 paddles 2016.
Without knowing what this plant is, it's only speculation as to what these little structures are. Without going on too thin of a limb, though, these are almost certainly seeds of some type. Perhaps this is some aquatic plant or semi-aquatic plant that utilizes water to spread its seeds downstream. It would make sense as these little things are too low to the ground for wind dispersal. There's no fruit or flower to tempt an animal. What are your thoughts?
Percival Lowell speculation that there were canals on Mars. In 1894, he chose Flagstaff, Arizona as the home of his new observatory, the now famous Lowell Observatory. In 1909 another telescope allowed closer observation of the structures Lowell had interpreted as canals as erosion. The canals were definitely disproved in the 1960s by NASA’s Mariner missions. Today, the surface markings taken to be canals are regarded as an optical illusion.
Sketchbook LensFX, PhotoWizard,, plaster, hotwax
North Miami is a suburban city located in northeast Miami-Dade County, Florida, United States, about 10 miles (16 km) north of Miami. The city lies on Biscayne Bay and hosts the Biscayne Bay Campus of Florida International University, and the North Miami campus of Johnson & Wales University. Originally the town of "Arch Creek", the area was incorporated as the "Town of Miami Shores", which was renamed the "Town of North Miami" in 1931. It was reincorporated as a city in 1953.
The city is also home to the Oleta River State Park, which is the state's largest urban park.
As of 2010, the population recorded by the U.S. Census Bureau is 58,786. With almost 60,000 residents, North Miami is the sixth largest city in Miami-Dade County.
In the final phase of Indian inhabitation of the area that eventually became "North Miami", United States Army soldiers in 1856 cut a Military Trail through nearly impassable thickets and rivers connecting Fort Lauderdale to Fort Dallas at the mouth of the Miami River. This eight foot trail, Dade County’s first roadway, crossed a unique natural bridge -- a natural limestone bridge spanning 40 feet (12 m) across the creek that no longer stands in Arch Creek Memorial Park -- in an area that would attract a settlement that early on would be known as "Arch Creek". Even before 1890 a handful of adventuresome pioneers spent brief periods around the Arch Creek Natural Bridge, a centuries-old Indian settlement.
In 1891, Mr. Ilhe was the first to put down roots in the Arch Creek vicinity. He purchased 80 acres (320,000 m2) from the State of Florida at one dollar an acre in the area of today’s N.E. 116th Street and Biscayne Boulevard. The place was so remote that his nearest northern neighbor was thought to live in Ft. Lauderdale. Mr. Ihle built a temporary palmetto frond shelter. During the next 27 years he grew shallots, coontie, squashes, bananas, sugar cane, Puerto Rican pineapples, lemons, guavas, limes, rose apples, Jamaican apples, and tomatoes.
By 1905 the area surrounding the nine-year-old Arch Creek Railroad Depot had become the community’s hub. It was located at 125th Street and the F.E.C. tracks. That year a post office and a school were opened nearby. By 1912, eighteen homes, a church, a general store, a blacksmith shop, and two tomato packing houses were located around the railroad. The population was estimated at less than one hundred. Farming was still the principal occupation.
The Florida land boom that was underway in the 1920s spread to Arch Creek farming community. The Biscayne Canal was dug in 1924 to remove farmland from flooded conditions. But as a consequence, the soil began to lose its moisture, and the farming which had been the backbone of the economy, was no longer profitable. However, in step with the times, this drained land became available for partitioning, lot sales, and development.
Thirty eight out of the forty seven registered voters, at the encouragement of developers E.C. Harner, Earl Irons and Arthur Griffing, showed up and voted to incorporate into a town on February 5, 1926. North Miami, between 1926 and 1931, was named "Town of Miami Shores", partially because its early eastern boundary was the Atlantic Ocean. The Town limits were: bounded on the South by Miami and Miami Beach, on the East by the Atlantic Ocean, on the West by 17th Avenue, and on the North by a line which approximates Golden Glades Drive or 166th Street. Incorporation moved costs from developers to residents and lot purchasers. Late in 1926 a bond issue of $287,000 was passed to build streets, sidewalks, a town hall, a water system, and fire protection.
The devastating September 1926 hurricane burst the real estate land speculation. The local community recovered from the damage, but lot sales came to a stop, and the northern tourists names showed up in great numbers on the delinquent tax list. Some money from the bond issue was used to build a Spanish-Mediterranean style city hall building at N.E. 8th Avenue and 125th Street in 1928. The City Hall also housed the police and fire departments. In the 1930s a new water plant and gravity tank was installed behind City Hall. The first newspaper, The Miami Shores Bulletin, was published in 1927-28 and chronicled the events of the times. The historic William Jennings Bryan school was constructed in 1928 on the same spot where the Arch Creek Elementary School had burned down the year before.
Credit for the data above is given to the following website:
Warkworth Castle in Northumberland is forever associated with the Percy Earls of Northumberland but the site did not start with them. Indeed there is some mystery over who first built it and when. Located on a tight bend in the River Coquet and about a mile from the sea, the castle sits on the neck of this land which means that the enclosed space becomes an outer ward with the river as its moat on three sides. The medieval church and modern village now occupy the bend.
As an easy to defend site, close to the English/Scottish border, the speculation is that it may have had some sort of fortification well before the present building but this is now elusive - especially so if the first fortification was of mere earth and timber. Henry, son of King David I of Scotland, was granted the site around 1139 AD and he, in turn, granted salt pans to various local monks. As the new Earl of Northumberland the old guide book speculates that he either built the first castle or he improved an existing motte and bailey with new stone walls; the guide book certainly notes ‘Norman’ foundations at various points in the current building. A castle certainly exists in documents of 1157 AD.
King John of England confirmed the castle to Robert of Clavering in 1199 AD. Robert spent much time in the area as Sheriff of Northumberland and was gifted other local estates. He is thought to have built the main gateway, some of the walls and improved the Great Hall. He may also have built or improved the keep but this work has since vanished under the large and luxurious later Percy building. The Claverings held the castle but such was its importance that royal troops were also garrisoned here at times - at the king’s expense - due to the Scottish wars. In 1322 the constable of the castle sent 26 light horsemen (hobilars) to join the English army. The Scots were beaten off in 1327 and again the following year when Robert The Bruce besieged it.
The last Clavering male died in debt in 1332 and the castle eventually passed to Henry, the second Lord Percy of Alnwick. He improved the gatehouse and walls and may have added the Grey Mare’s Tail tower on the eastern side. From this time onwards Warkworth was the second castle home of the Percys and much favoured by them. The third Percy lord was a great soldier in the 100 Years War in France and was created Earl of Northumberland in 1377 before winning the battles of Otterburn and Homildon Hill against the Scots.
Sometime during this period extensive building work was carried out by the Percys with the keep on the motte being rebuilt as a sumptuous and comfortable building with decent accommodation, ample water management and drainage. It even had a very modern feature - a light well extending down the centre of the building to draw in both light and fresh air. For the ‘grim north’ this was a very princely home.
However after supporting Henry IV’s 1399 coup against Richard II, the Percys fell out with King Henry and rebelled - leading to executions and a period of disgrace. During this time Warkworth was attacked by a royal army with gunpowder artillery and it surrendered after seven discharges of the royal cannons. It is thus the first British castle to be successfully attacked by artillery despite the claims of nearby Bamburgh Castle.
John, Duke of Bedford held the castle for 11 years before it was returned to the next Percy - Henry, Earl of Northumberland. He was drawn into disputes with the junior Nevilles (the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick) but was supported by the senior Nevilles, the Earls of Westmoreland, who had their own issues with the junior Nevilles. Inevitably all this was mostly about money and inheritance. It paved the way to private battles between these families BEFORE the so-called Wars of the Roses. Indeed the first Battle of St Albans in 1455 may be more of a Mafia-style ‘hit’ as the Yorkists were lead by the three Richards (York, Salisbury and Warwick) and the principal dead were the Duke of Somerset, Henry Percy and a Percy kinsman, Lord Clifford.
The castle passed into Yorkist hands and - at various times - the Earl of Warwick directed sieges at Alnwick, Bamburgh and Dunstanburgh using Warkworth as his base. Warwick’s brother John Neville was given the castle and the earldom of Northumberland for a time but Edward IV eventually returned it to Henry Percy, the 4th Earl of Northumberland. John Neville was thus ‘downgraded’ to 1st Marquis of Montague and was thoroughly alienated by this action, leading to John joining his brother Warwick in rebellion against Edward IV. Warkworth’s Montague Tower is probably his work.
The 4th Percy earl carried out some work in his own right. One oddity is that a collegiate church was planned right in front of the keep which would have cut the keep off from the rest of the inner bailey. We know this as the present church foundations contain a tunnel which would have passed under the massive building to allow access to the keep from the bailey. However the guide book suggests the church was never finished and that the foundation crypts were partly buried and then became used for storage.
Henry the 4th earl became infamous for not supporting King Richard III at Bosworth in 1485. He then managed to get himself killed by the locals at Cocklodge in 1489 and is now buried in Beverley Cathedral. Later Percys got involved in the 16th century religious conflicts in England and none of them came out of it well. One even got involved in the Gunpowder Plot against the new Protestant King James I of England. One footnote is that King James visited Warkworth in this period and found it ruined and overrun by goats and sheep in every chamber. Some of his party went into the castle and were: “Much moved to see it so spoiled and so badly kept”.
Later Percys favoured Alnwick over Warkworth and it was one of these (now a Duke) who turned the site over to the future Ministry of Public Building and Works in 1922. It is now an English Heritage site and well worth a visit.
Despite months of rumors and speculation pointing towards Iowa Interstate's newest ES44AC #519 being painted into a special baby blue "The Rock" heritage scheme, it emerged out of Mid-America Car in Kansas City in standard IAIS paint, besides being named after Paul H. Banner, one of the founding chairmen of the Iowa Interstate.
The Garden of Cosmic Speculation is a 30 acre sculpture garden created by landscape architect and theorist Charles Jencks at his home, Portrack House, near Dumfries in South West Scotland...
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The garden is inspired by science and mathematics, with sculptures and landscaping on these themes, such as Black Holes and Fractals. The garden is not abundant with plants, but sets mathematical formulae and scientific phenomena in a setting which elegantly combines natural features and artificial symmetry and curves. It is probably unique among gardens, drawing comparisons with a similarly abstract garden in Scotland, Little Sparta...
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The garden is private but usually opens on one day each year through Scotland's Gardens Scheme and raises money for Maggie's Centres, a cancer care charity named for Maggie Keswick Jencks, the late wife of Charles Jencks.
Ned Mansour - Beautifoto Model
The story below has it threads from a daydream I had on our way home to wales, two days after our family attended a formal do in Scotland.
My twin brother and I were just 16.
Mum had me dressed up in a brown satin gown that mimicked her green one.
I was wearing rhinestone jewellery.
Mum was wearing her expensive diamond earrings, which I alone felt received far too much attention from strangers. Or was I just jealous?
Then I had the unsettling experience of my fancy rhinestone bracelet vanishing from my wrist under, what I alone had felt, were suspicious circumstances.
But thoughts like that are what goes with the territory of the pickpocketing games my twin brother and I like to role-play at home.
Though my bracelet was found and returned the next day, the events at the posh dance in Scotland, added with the vivid circumstances of what I dreamed that evening the night I lost it, along with my speculation over what caused my bracelet’s loss, remained firmly entrenched in my imagination.
And yes, at the dance, there was one sly-eyed lady who attached herself to our family. A far too slick talking stranger who I felt uneasy around and did not trust from the getgo.
So, with all that said:
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Dirty Rotten Scoundrel
(I preyed till the end)
A female pickpockets perspective
I do love a good, ultra-posh gathering, especially when I’m not invited and have to crash it.
This evening I was able to slip in with a group of chirpy young ladies.
Easily entering the establishment and orchestrating an even easier bumping lift of a fat leather wallet from the dangling purse carried by one of the taffeta-gowned ladies in my surrogate group.
It all give me a tingly feeling of good things to come as I went to the lady’s washroom just off a hall by the main exit.
There, in a stall, I emptied the wallet of notes, £200, and discarded it under a linen-covered table piled high with small towels on my way out.
I left the powder room, now hungrily on the prowl as I explored my new patch.
I meandered around. Admiring, to myself, the glamorous gowns, dresses, and delicious jewels the ladies were wearing.
Gleamingly smooth pearls, glittery diamonds, and stunning pieces set with every colour of gemstones imaginable.
All are displayed in abundance along mouth-wateringly well-fitted velvet, satin, taffeta, and other sleek backdrops of an expensive ladies' attire.
My eyes also eagerly took in the plump bulges of pockets holding thicke wallets and shiny gold and silver watches being worn by the regulation-required tuxedo-clad males who accompanied some of the ladies.
Myself? I was dressed in a tight-fitted, soft velvet frock, perfect for squirming in close and also carrying a shoulder purse. Not too large, I needed to fit in with the primarily clutch purse-carrying ladies. Which, aside from wearing only 1/4 carat stud diamonds in my ears, I somewhat did.
It was a most titillating experience, moving in and out of the crowded main room, casually looking over the well-dressed guests. Hunting for an opportunity.
Which I soon found, an early twenties male, succulent in a black tux and hand-tied bow tie sporting a gold watch chain around his waist. Along with the noticeable bulge( no not that kind) of a thicke note-filled wallet in his jacket pocket.
I walked by, gathering his attention. His eyes followed and I stopped and pulled a cigarette and round lighter from my purse.
I carry two lighters a square one I use privately, and a round one that has no fuel.
I unsuccessfully tried to light my cigarette.
Soon a hand was extended with a lighter. It was my mark. He lit it, and as I bent over my hand went to his chest, reached in, and nimbly lifted out his long fat wallet, deposited it in my purse, along with my lighter.
Successful pickpocketing is all based on how well one pulls off distracting your mark. The move I just pulled off by drawing away attention using an empty lighter is one I use a lot in crowded pubs. Successfully I might add, on both men and women.
I was chatting with him a bit before making an excuse and pulling away. Far too many other opportunities around to waste time chatting with a pickpocketed mark.
I again went to the powder room and inside a stall, extracted £850 from the wallet.
I heard someone come in but did not enter a stall.
After a few minutes of fumbling noises, I heard the water running and splashing.
A female voice was talking.
On silent feet, I carefully opened the stall door and slipped out. Around the corner where the sinks were located, a voluptuous lady in lavender velvet was washing her face.
She was talking to herself, thinking she was alone. She appeared to be having issues with contact lenses by the way she was damning them.
I looked around her figure. A pricey necklace glittered reflecting in the mirror.
On the side of the sink, facing me, we’re long matching lavender satin gloves.
On top of which was a shiny pile of jewels, rings, gold bracelets, and a Rolex ladies watch with diamonds circling the face.
With her eyes closed, she had turned away towards the linen-covered table and was reaching blindly for a towel.
I threw the empty wallet under the table.
As she was distracted by the noise, I reached over with my other hand and picked up the jeweled timepiece. Then I slipped out the door before she turned back to face the mirror.
I headed back out the hallway, finally letting out my breath, with the intention of getting a drink and taking a well-earned break as I decided what to do next. This patch was a gold mine, but have I had my run?
That would be a big No, to my run of luck being over….
For, as I walked out the door, I fell in step behind a pair of exceptionally well-dressed middle-aged teenagers maybe 16-year-olds, brother and sister, so possibly twins?
Both had soft red hair and adorably large hazel eyes.
The sister’s soft hair flowed silkily down back in a thin downy feathery fall to just below her shoulders. And just as her hair had an almost fluid spill, so did the ultra-soft expensive gown she wore. As I walked behind them, my mark ran her hand, ring and bracelet rippling with rich sparkles, along her hair, pulling it forward over her shoulder so it was hanging down in front, exposing her neck to me.
She was deliciously sumptuous in a long flimsy thin silk gown of dark chocolate with rhinestone trimmings. The slinking gown was a wide shoulder halter top, with a slight flare at the bottom, sweeping over the top of silver sandals. I was admiring how the dress fell, gently affirming with tight lines, her youthfully graceful figure.
The tuxedo-wearing brother appears to be overly protective of his sister.
And of no surprises why…
They reached a table and he actually seated her like a real adult male.
I circled for a better look, my eyes not believing what they had glimpsed.
She was indeed wearing some pretty valuable jewellery for one of her age.
A silver, wide chocker-style necklace filled with precious diamonds blazingly encircled her neck. It was something one expected a royal to wear.
A pair of amazing chandelier-style earrings twinkled down from her ears.
A wide diamond bracelet lay elegantly around one of her heavy cream-coloured satin glove-clad wrists.
A mouthwatering ring with a large centre diamond graced her right pinkie.
She also had a brilliant eye-catching broach, small, but set with obscenely valuable diamonds, dangling provokingly between small firm breasts, set in the v of her sleek gown’s neckline.
As I had been following I was able to observe the simple clasps of both necklace and bracelet. My fingers itching the whole time.
I sat myself down at a nearby side bench along a side walkway leading to the hallway down which were the washrooms.
From my perch, I watched them, while pretending to watch the dancers on the ballroom floor across to the far side of the room. I was close enough to catch snippets of their conversation. I had a side view of the brother, a delightfully frontal view of his deliciously pretty twin sister.
I marveled over how I hadn’t been here 30 minutes and aside from already making several nice lifts, had stumbled across a wealthy young chick wearing real diamonds, playing peekaboo along her delightful figure. The whole display just cried out to a thief:
“Here I am,naïvely displaying jewels ripe for the plucking!”
I had my eye on her dazzling necklace as my preferred target. I began making a full study of it. As she was innocently sitting there chatting with her brother, I wondered if it had ever entered into her wildest dreams that the jewels she was wearing were ever at such a risk of being stolen.
Probably not, and all I had to do was watch and wait for opportunities, with which I had several methods to deal with.
One of which I made ready by reaching down and undoing my right open-toed shoe strap, then, trap set, sat back and waited, watching my chosen mark.
Oh, The right shoe strap because I am
left-handed. Now just needed my red-haired mark to use the lady’s loo.
I soon found that where I sat was indeed in a good location.
Lots of potential prospects were passing me by. But none yet had on targetable jewellery as the diamonds the sumptuously chocolate-gowned red head fetchingly wore, especially around her throat.
I kept refocussing my attention on her.
The brother was bored.
He was trying to get his sister to join in on some type of adventure. But she told him they were both too dressed up to play.
I thought to myself:
“Listen to your brother luv, It would be delicious to stumble across you pair outside, alone, looking for adventures.”
I then took my eyes off the savory diamonds around the young girl’s throat, because an older red-headed version of the girl had joined them.
Their mum I correctly surmised. Watching her son help seat her. Wish it was me seating her as I would use that opportunity to lift valuables from her fine figure.
The mother was elegantly dressed in a shiny green satin number. It had a knee-length skirt with quarter-length sleeves and a playfully low scooped neckline.
The dress, like her daughter’s gown, showed off every bump and curve of her still youthful figure.
And she, like her daughter, was also expensively wearing diamonds. But my lord, what a decadent collection of jewels.
A set of sparking ‘ice’ that included stunningly long diamond earrings, diamond bib style necklace, and a flashy diamond-filled bracelet. She also wore two gemmed cocktail rings on the bare fingers of her right hand. A wedding band and diamonds on her left’s ring finger. Flashing out from the V on her shiny dress was a large emerald broach, the same green color as her eyes.
And to literally top it all off, perched on her head like a crown, was set an actual dainty diamond-encrusted tiara!
Perhaps they were (very) minor royals after all?
I would have loved to see her daughter wearing a tiara also. Not sure how I would have gotten it off her head without notice. But I would have been game for a try.
The mother appeared to be alone. No husband for whatever reason seemed to be with them, judging by body language. A language I have become an expert in deciphering.
So the 16-year-old male was apparently the only security that lay between me and lifting some precious diamonds from either the females at the table with him. Though I still favored lifting jewels from the more susceptible sister sitting there dressed like a princess.
So this young watchman could probably easily be led astray long enough for me to plan out an approach.
This made things quite interesting. As I pondered over how to accomplish luring him off, I listened in some more, soon learning:
The father was not with them, I was right about that.
With the father gone their fetchingly attractive, well-dressed, very wealthy mother was open game to many interested males asking her to dance.
Hence her two kids were bored and tired of being alone so much, the fact of which appeared to go over their mum’s diamond shimmering head.
I licked my lips, it would seem that opportunity was going to be knocking at my door if only the mother would leave her children alone again so they could hopefully become open targets.
I was hell-bent on acquiring the daughter’s appealing necklace once the mum, then her brother, were both finally out of the picture.
But it was then that a lady walked by, holding her young toddler. She swished her way right past where I was sitting. Too aloof apparently to notice me. And I had to do a double take on what she wore around her throat.
She was expensively dressed in satin, with a double row of smooth, valuably matched, pearls around her throat. Her long hair is conveniently up. I watched with salivating interest as she made her way past me to the powder room, a child clinging to her shoulder.
When that Lass disappeared, my eyes went back to the table with its diamond-wearing Lass.
The lad was still trying to talk his balking sister into doing something, anything.
She was engagingly adjusting an earring, listening to him with an enchanting smile.
Their mum was idly smoking a cigarette, her eyes on the dance floor, her mind a million miles away.
Then the young mum wearing the pearls came out from the powder room hallway, and my attention was once again drawn away by an opportunity I simply could not allow myself to pass up.
Out of the corner of my, I saw her approach my bench, her gown flicking pleasingly along her figure.
I reached down and fumbled with my loose strap.
As I heard her approach, I look up and ask her if she could help me fasten my heel strap.
Her pearl necklace was magnificent.
She chirped politely, “Pleased to help you miss…”
Not sounding aloof in the least as she sat her toddler down. The child was adorably dressed in white satin and looked at me with wide-eyed wonder.
As her mum scrunched down I look around. Coast was clear for lift off…
Dipping my left hands' fingers in and locating her now dangling necklace of pearls’ clasp, I easily undo it, then in one motion lift them up and out from around her neck.
Her swinging ropes of pearls are in my purse before she finishes redoing my loose strap and stands up.
I hear the child giggling and I stroke her satiny attire as the mother stood straightening her dress.
She politely twittered “There you go, so happy I could help .”
I smiled back:
“So was I, beautiful child.”
Happily housing up her child, she left, not noticing she was a few pricy kilograms lighter around her throat.
I watched her move safely off, still admiring the way her gown moved. Mulling over in my mind if I could have lifted a diamond tiara that easily?
With those succulent imaginings I eagerly look back over at the table I had been keeping an eye on.
It was empty…!
My potential mark was gone, that quickly. Had the young twins gone out? We’re they with their mum? I was cursing myself. The pearls were a nice haul. But had I let real diamonds slip from my fingers!
I sighed, rising, straightening my dress, and began to move off, thinking to grab a smoke outside to settle my now overly excited nerves.
Then I spotted a young lady attired all in black satin, consisting of a long dress and bolero jacket.
She was sitting alone three tables away from the one where the twins had sat. Two empty cocktail glasses were at her elbow, a half-full one in front of her.
She was smoking the last vestiges of a cigarette. A thin necklace valuably set with a single row of diamonds flickered up around her throat as she blew a wispy stream of smoke. With one hand she brushed back her long wavy hair, exposing an expensive diamond tennis bracelet that blazed up from her wrist as she did.
“She’s trying to attract attention.” I thought, wondering if she had a clue as to whose attention she had just attracted.
I quickly moved in and took the seat next to her.
“Mind if I sit here a few minutes to catch my breath?”
She obviously did mind, but nodded politely, saying nothing, but started looking around.
I could tell she was on the prowl, and by noticing her ring finger was bare, she was available.
I began the conversation.
“Cannot believe how crowded this party is, and the number of men here.”
She nodded, opening her purse and pulling out another cigarette, and holding it up, like a beacon. She smiled at me weakly. Her face had the same sharp moody features of the sultry actress Jean Harlow.
“Yeah, it’s been alright, but a lot of ladies also. Been a struggle finding anyone to dance with. But that’s what I get for coming alone.”
I smiled, pulling out a cigarette myself, along with my round lighter. I reach over with it and say:
“Here allow me.”
I could see in her eyes, that she was disappointed that no male had spotted her and offered to light it. But as my lighter failed to light I saw relief in her eyes and she looked around for a male hero.
It was at this point my free hand reached down to her wrist and neatly flicked open the clasp of her diamond-studded bracelet hanging down loosely from her wrist. Slipping it off her wrist and in my purse before she could blink her long eyelashes twice at a suitable male for which she was desperately searching.
She gave up her vigil, and turned to me saying :
“That’s ok, You need a lighter that works.”
As the girl with the long eyelashes and bare wrists giggled, I replied :
“Oh, it works, sometimes.”
With a sigh, she finally pulled her own lighter out and lit both hers and my, cigarettes.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my tux boy come back, with his sister, slinky gown swirling, in tow. Both giggling over something. It was twinging as it struck me how fetchingly pretty his sister was when she was happy.
And I was equally happy to see her come back.
Instantly my mind turned toward her brother.
If I could just lure him away for a bit. With him out of the way, I should have an open shot at lifting the bloody beautiful necklace his sister was wearing.
I had no real plan yet but figured once the young watchman was out of the picture, I could come up with something on the fly.
My table mate sighed.
“You know, I may just as well blow this joint. Waste of my time getting dressed up tonight.”
I looked away from the lad, back at her, puffing away on her cigarette. An epiphany popped up in my head.
Smashing out my half-smoked cigarette, I opened my purse and from the wad of cash I had taken from my first mark, I peeled off £100 in notes of the realm.
“See that lad over there? Well before you leave it would be worth this…”
I laid the notes on the table
“For you to have a couple of dances with. Him.”
She looked at the pile of cash, speaking.
“Why would you want to pay me this for taking him dancing?”
Her eyes went from the cash on the table to face me with a questioning look, I answered:
“It’s just that his sister, the redhead next to him, had a rather personal question to ask me. And is unable to do so with her brother hovering around.”
I could tell she knew I was lying, her eyes looked over the girl head to toe, then dropped to the designer clutch purse at her elbow.
“Nice purse that.”
She figured that it was her purse I was after. Worth about £400 at a pawn. but she didn’t seem to really care, as neither did I.
Scooping up the notes she put them in her purse, a knock-off designer number.
Smashing out her cigarette, she rose and bid me an uncaring farewell.
I watched as she went up to the table, placed a hand on the lad's shoulder, and said something I was too far away to catch. But he got right up as the lady nodded to his sister, I saw her eyes traveling up and down again, closely drooling over her sumptuous attire.
She then led the lad off.
As I again found myself becoming mesmerized by the shimmering necklace that lay around his sister’s throat, as she was watching her brother being led off.
I shake my head clear, looking away to rationally think.
As I did, my elbow hit something, looking down, I found myself staring at the 1/4 full cocktail glass.
Speaking of plans on the fly.
I picked up the glass and quickly circling, came up from behind to reach my red-headed mark, sitting there with all innocence.
As I passed I said:
“Watch it..”
Then let the drink slip from my hand and land in the silken lap of her gorgeous dark chocolate gown.
She jumped up immediately, and I was ready with my handkerchief.
As I apologized profusely. I Placed one hand on her shoulder and with the other reached down and began sopping up the wet area of her luxurious gown(making sure my fingers reached titillatingly well down along inside her pantyliner to maximize the distraction.
All the while the darling girl was confused, becoming aroused, and apologetic all at the same time.
“It’s ok miss, my fault I’m sure, must have startled you, didn’t I!”
As she spoke, she looked down watching my hand wiping her, long red hair falling into her face, my hand left her quivering shoulder, and locating the clasp of her necklace, flicked it open. Then I pulled it off from around her neck and dropped it neatly into my open purse on the floor.
She pulled her hair up to see, and I grasped her wrist with my now free hand, easily unsnapping her diamond bracelet, where it soon joined its purloined mate inside my purse.
“Do you have a handkerchief luv?”
She nodded her head no. Chandelier Earrings swing out, wickedly flashing their many tiers of pricy diamonds.
“Let’s get you to the washroom and clean you up a bit.”
As she lifted the hem of her wet gown I took her by the scintillating silk gowns covered waist and led her off.
As she was preoccupied with holding and studying her soiled gown, my fingers holding her waist worked over and unhooking her exceptionally valuable diamond brooch, easily lifting it off. Then I curled my fist around it into a ball.
I open the door to the washroom, then as she went in, deposited her brooch in my purse.
I handed her a towel, which she took and began wiping off her slippery wet gown
As she was bending over to clean down her front, her hair kept again falling down over her face.
Here luv, I said taking her soft hair and pulling it back. I laid my fingers cupping her ears. As she was busy wiping off wet spots, I was busy wiping off her ears with a stroking motion. Pulling out her handsomely jeweled earrings in the process.
I stood back, dropping the sparklers inside my purse as I watched her bending over to clean up, her slinky thin gown tightly outlining her figure
As she finished and stood up, I apologized:
“I am so sorry.”
Smiling weakly, she hugged me, saying with her head pressed to my shoulder:
“That’s s ok accidents happen.”
She twittered it pleasantly enough, and I hugged her back.
Pulling away I looked her over.
“Look you missed a spot.”
I lifted her hand and laid it upon the wet area just below her breasts, my fingers tickling. Giggling, she put one hand on my waist for support, and as the other began to wipe her wet spot, I myself wiped off the ring from her slick glove-clad finger.
She was now pretty much cleaned up, and thoroughly cleaned out.
If only she had been wearing that diamond tiara!
I walked back through the exit door as she stayed behind to take care of her business. The excitement, mixed with anguish, made her have to use a stall.
I head off down the hall intending on turning towards the exit once I reach it.
From what had become a habit, I looked towards the red-headed damsel in distress’s table. Brother is not back yet… but…
The wealthy mother, whose glittery diamonds would put a Tiffany’s display case to shame, is back at the table. Gullibly alone. Tiara is glittery like a bloody bright beacon. She is holding an unlit cigarette, a lighter on the table by her purse. She is watching her son on the dance floor.
I said thoughtfully to myself knowing the song was almost through and the lady would be dropping him like a hot potato when it was done:
“In for a penny…”
Licking my lips with expectations, I pull out my round lighter as I walk up to the twin’s richly attired mother…
“May I? “
I lean over as she turned to me, and placed the cigarette in between her red lipstick-covered mouth. Up close, her earrings and tiara flashed into such provoking life it made me blink.
As I clumsily knock her overly expensive purse to the floor with my elbow, I tell her:
“Can never get these bloody things to work.”
Fini
I’m not really wicked, just written that way
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Postscript:
The dance venue in Scotland had a washroom with a linen-covered table stacked with towels.
It was underneath where cleanup found my rhinestone bracelet.
Yes, I had used the wash.
But what if it had gone like this:
An observers viewpoint:
The mum is wearing real diamonds in her earrings. Therefore reasonable to assume her daughter’s bracelet must be real diamonds also, and a young lady is usually the easier pick.
Bracelet is acquired, discovered not to be real, not wishing to be caught with a nicked bracelet of just rhinestone, the evidence is tossed.
I mean really, it could have happened that way?
“Le chat mangerait du poisson, mais ne se mouillerait pas les pieds”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
the cat would eat fish, but would not wet her feet
Le chat mangerait du poisson, mais ne se mouillerait pas les pieds
"VIDEO KILLED THE RADO STAR?"
Well, just about, I'm a tad knackered at the moment!
G’day, I’ve been a wee bit quiet for the past few weeks as I reviewed movies at this year’s 2007 Melbourne (Australia) International Film Festival. I broadcast the reviews over about two and a half hours all up on my show, Zero-G: Science Fiction, Fantasy & Historical Radio, on 3RRR FM. (rrr.org.au)
The above picture is the sign on the Erwin Rado Theatre at 211 Johnson Street, Fitzroy, where the MIFF has its headquarters. The building's nothing much to look at from outside, really! But the sign...well, THAT has character!
Below the MIFF offices, the theatre, named after the director of the Film Festival from 1957 - 1983, has a charming old 69 seat cinema that can screen 16mm and 35mm film as well as DVD, LaserDisc, VHS, Data and MiniDV.
The MIFF’s access to the theatre expired at the end of 2007 and, ideally, it really should have its own dedicated screening facility, as other major city’s film festivals have. Still, the office itself has now moved to a more central location in Melbourne, which is handy!
To find out more about the MIFF go here:
www.melbournefilmfestival.com.au/
Anyway, I thought I’d post some of reviews here, inspired by films that I particularly enjoyed at this year’s event.
The full transcripts can be found at:
-AACHI & SSIPAK-
SOUTH KOREA
This continuously violent South Korean animated adult feature presents a future where human excrement is an energy source. Citizens have a monitoring chip attached to their arses and particularly productive individuals are rewarded with addictive drug laced munchies called Juicy Bars.
I shit you not.
The story begins with a roadwarrior highway battle as the swarming blue mutant Diaper Gang (!) attempts to truckjack a cargo of Juicy Bars, only to encounter a devastatingly lethal cyborg enforcer who makes Judge Dredd look like a human rights campaigner.
Headshot bodies fall at a rate that would impress Aeon Flux and Samurai Jack combined as the repressive government, assorted roving bands of bandits and con men, including the title characters Aachi and Ssipak (pronounced ‘she-pock’) along with a feisty would-be actress, all compete for the Juicy Bars.
Given the outrageous level of mayhem and the giggling concept that lies at the, er, bottom of the plot, it’s hardly worth noting that the animators cheerfully raid pop culture for many sequences, including the films Aliens and Indiana Jones & The Temple Of Doom. The latter is extensively overmined for one tunnel chase set up.
The animation is quite stylistically vigorous while the off the wall social commentary reminds me a little of the kind of thing that animator Ralph Bakshi attempted in his Fritz The Cat days, well before the likes of South Park and its shock-anime kin. There’s also something to be said for the biting political satire that runs through the narrative, which results in the government and gang leader being merely two opposite sides of the same ruthless coin.
People with kids could have pointless fun banning them from seeing this film, but apparently MTV’s thinking of doing a telly series based on it anyway, so, futile or what?
Subtle it isn’t, but it is a species of wicked fun that will gather bums on seats!
Director Joe Bum-jin
2006/90mins
-A FEW DAYS IN SEPTEMBER-
ITALY/FRANCE/PORTUGAL
The first film directed by screenwriter Santiago Amigorena, A Few Days In September
(Quelques Jours en Septembre), is a laid back but quite charming French spy thriller that makes espionage a family affair...and a realistically bickering family at that.
Elliot, mostly alluded to or played as an off screen voiceover by Nick Nolte until near the film’s conclusion, is an ex-CIA agent with knowledge about the upcoming 911 attacks. He hopes to trade the information for a stake that will enable him to reunite and live with his biological daughter and step-son, legacies of two seperate cover identity marriages in France and the U.S.
Much sought after by various factions, Elliot entrusts his grown up children, Orlando (Sara Forestier) and David (British actor Tom Riley) to the capable care of Irène, a cool, experienced French secret agent who used to be Elliot’s colleague. The potentially overwhelming meta-story takes a back seat to the character relationships, which makes a nice change to the usual breathless adventures that would normally puff up this kind of story into a by-the-numbers action thriller.
Juliette Binoche brings marvelous, stylish depth to her role as world wise spy Irène, providing a wryly sophisticated setting for her charges’ inevitable romance. (What IS it with the French anyway? After Irène’s arm is injured she turns up wearing a chic scarf as a sling, but of course!) Always gorgeous, the actress pitches the character as being adept enough at her deadly trade so that she can afford to enjoy herself while she works. Forestier is all sharp edged, angry eyed angst as she works through father/daughter issues while Riley nervously cooks (his character worked in a restaurant) for the two formidable women who have abruptly complicated his life with their Amazonian expertise with firearms. I also very much enjoyed the arch Franco/American banter between Orlando and David.
Seeking Elliot through the medium of his children is William Pound, a whacko ‘wet work’ assassin who has a penchant for poetry, drives a florist’s delivery van and has a mobile phone plagued by the world’s most annoying ringtone. Pound’s character is tightly wound by John Turturro, who played one of the convicts in O Brother, Where Art Thou? and also an equally obsessive relative of the title character in the television series Monk.
A Few Days In September benefits from first rate cinematography, including some playful soft focus shots that whimsically render Venice and Paris, cheekily explained by Irène’s habit of removing her glasses to ‘see things differently’. There’s also a cracking good shot through the dark framed doorway of a Venetian Chapel which reminded me of a signature frame from a John Ford Western, only instead of Mesas and sagebrush we get the Venice Lagoon and a passing ocean liner.
Although this film lingers perhaps a little too lovingly on the wrangling entanglements of its main characters I still found it pleasant and rewardable viewing. Amigorena certainly knows how to inject off-beat life into his characters.
Director/Screenwriter Santiago Amigorena
2006/115 mins
-BUG-
USA
When down on her luck small town waitress Agnes White (played by Ashley Judd) invites eccentric drifter Peter Evans into her seedy motel room she receives much more than she bug-aned for!
Director William Friedkin (The Exorcist, & The French Connection) gets almost unbearably psychological in this cross genre movie that wisely adds no excess fat to the one set, pressure cooker Tracy Lett’s play that it’s adapted from. As the two main characters’ relationship slowly emerges from a far too tightly spun chrysalis the film builds to one of the most intensely wound paranoic conclusions seen on screen.
Michael Shannon is gauntly convincing as Evans, a role that he pioneered in the original stage play and intially at least, reminds me a little of a young Steve McQueen or perhaps, Joachim Phoenix. Harry Connick Junior has a supporting part in the film as Agne’s ex-convict, ex-husband.
Bug’s maddeningly paced escalating tension is supported by an appropriately chittering score, composed by Brian Tyler, who also gave us soundtracks for the films Constantine, Bubba Ho-Tep, the Children of Dune miniseries, as well as episodes of Star Trek: Enterprise and the upcoming Aliens Versus Predator 2: Survival Of The Fittest. Speaking of Star Trek, Ashley Judd also played Ensign Robin Lefler in Star Trek: Next Generation.
Bug is a film that creeps up on you and by its final scuttling rush will definitely get under your skin...one way or another.
Director- William Friedkin
Screenwriter-Tracy Letts
2006/101mins
-EL TOPO-
(MEXICO)
El Topo (“The Mole”) was director Alejandro Jodorowsky's third film. The infamous Mexican allergorically surreal Eastern/Western is presented at the festival in a very fine new restoration (a bit of a shock for those used to seeing it in its customary raddled grindhouse/cult prints!) along with its natural companion piece, The Holy Mountain.
This comprehensively startling but compelling film begins, not unlike the Lone Wolf And Cub Samurai series, with the black clad, flute playing gunslinger El Topo (played by the director himself) riding across the wastelands in company with a taciturn child companion. After a blood drenched encounter with drunkenly bestial bandits El Topo replaces the boy with a seductively manipulative woman who urges him to become the greatest shootist in the world by seeking out and defeating four master gunfighters.
As with the wuxia martial arts films that this story frequently references the quest for the masters proves dangerous, difficult, baffling and wonderous.
The gunslinger’s odyssey to achieve enlightment and mastery is populated with exotic encounters and inventive, symbolically charged imagery. Deflating balloons signal the start of duels, capering outlaws with shoe fetishes rape feminised sand paintings and carve bananas with sabres, civilised townsfolk prove more depraved and debauched than the wasteland bandits, herds of rabbits mysteriously die at El Topo’s feet, incestuously deformed trogalytes living in oil drums tunnel to escape their underground prison, and live bullets are caught and deflected by butterfly nets.
This visual melange is supported by Jodorowskys and Nacho Méndezs evocative music which, by turns soothing or jarring, echoes across the many desert based sequences and permeates the locations, which frequently read more like artistic installations than sets grounded in any kind of mundane reality. In fact, there is a timeless anachronistic feel to the desert that makes you question whether this is nominally a period Western or indeed set in some kind of post-apocalyptic Stephen King future.
El Topo is rendered even stranger by its renowned mid-film gear change, one of several enigmatic transformations that can be interpreted as Buddhist inspired reincarnations of the title character.
Just imagine what might have been if Jodorowsky had pulled off his mid-70s adaptation of Frank Herbert's Dune, with its intended cast of Salvidor Dali as the Emperor, Mick Jagger playing Feyd Rautha and Orson Welles as Baron Harkonnen? As it is the Acid Western tradition at least got another outing in Jim Jarmusch's more recent film, Dead Man, which, for all its many remarkable charms, by comparison to El Topo is cast into monochrome shade.
A bizarre chimera even by Zero-G's notoriously unhinged standards El Topo is a cult classic given gloriously grotesque new life by its own recent transfiguring restoration.
Director/Screenwriter Alejandro Jodorowsky
1971/125mins
-FIDO-
Canada/USA
Fido fiendishly expands upon the gag featured in Shaun of the Dead (amongst other films) that zombies could be domesticated to perform simple tasks. Zombies helping in the kitchen? Uh-oh, better make sure they keep those rotting fingers are kept hygenically away from food preparation surfaces with a pair of crisp, clean white cotton gloves....
In an alternate 1950s the all encompassing ZomCom, which apparently helped win the Zombie War, protects and serves the walled small towns of America. Now, we all know that the only reason to provide zombies with clever electronic control collars is so that the gadgets can malfunction; cue zombie outbreak! It’s the slyly subversive juxtaposition of wholesome mom and apple-pie Leave It To Beaver sitcom with Zombie killing procedural that lends this consistently bemusing film a wicked Addams Family style where Pop naturally reads Death Magazine and scenes shot in cars are filmed using good old fashioned rear screen projection.
Not that we’re talking Black and White telly, nosirree Bob! Fido is filmed in full, glorious technicolour, complete with ginormous finned automobiles, two toned shoes and compliant Stepford housewives who wait at the front door for their patriarchal hubbies to take the martini from their submissive, manicured hands. Happily, Carrie Anne-Moss in one of the main roles, as Helen Robinson, is more of a buddingly feisty Desperate Housewife after the armed and dangerous example of Bree Hodge. (From The Matrix to a zombie packed Pleasantville is indeed an ironic career path!) It’s not long before Helen kicks over the domestic traces following the example of her young son, Timmy (knowingly played by the intriguingly named K’Sun Ray) and his new pet zombie, the Fido of the title, embodied by Billy Connolly. Connolly plays the long suffering Fido with toothy glee, moaning and groaning and lurching in the throes of what could easily double as a hangover of fatally heroic proportions.
Keep an eye out (easy to do in a zombie film) for Dylan Baker, as the nervously cheerful Bill Robinson. Baker has had the sleeper part of Doctor Curt Connors in the Spider-Man films and, as comic book fans anticipate, should eventually get to mutate into the super-villain, The Lizard.
Fido is my genre pic of the Festival, in the tradition of another year’s shambling B-schlock spoof, The Lost Skeleton Of Cadavra. I ask you, how can I not enjoy sinking my teeth into a film where a pet zombie is addressed with a line like: “What’s that Fido? Timmy’s in trouble?”
It’s enough to make Lassie dig her way out of her grave!
Director- Andrew Currie
Screenwriters- Robert Chomiak, Andrew Currie, Dennis Heaton
2006/91mins
-HANSEL & GRETEL-
GERMANY
If you go down to the woods today.....you’d better take your copy of the Brothers Grimm Cookbook For Baking Independent Elderly Female Cannibal Sorceresses.
German director Anne Wild and screenwriter Peter Schwindt settle for a straightforward retelling of the classic rural ‘stranger danger’ story wherein the devious Gretel proves the most resourceful of two deliberately lost children who end up on the menu of the obligatory member of the local Guild of Almagamated Wicked Witches & Confectioners.
Deliberately lost? How do you think the kids got to be wandering around in Blair Witchburg in the first place? Sometimes tactfully omitted from modern retellings of this familiar story is the neglected element of child abandonment, a practice forced upon starving families in situations of plague, famine, wars and other social upheavals. In this case, it’s the pragmatic step-mother who pushes her more sentimental but nontheless compliant woodcutter husband into cutting loose the kids.
In early versions of the story it’s usually just the natural mother who suggests jettisoning the offspring...a much more useful cautionary tale for parents to use as and Awful Threat when disciplining naughty anklebiters.
Leaving aside observations about how Hansel and Gretel underlines the historical distrust of skilled single women of independent means this is actually a moderately creepily staged film. The woods are suitably threatening, and the witch herself, though certainly not up to Buffy The Vampire Slayer standards is a reasonably nasty albeit dimwitted piece of work...
I never can figure out quite why witchy poo needed to go Hannibal Lector on kiddies when she was capable of whipping up enough food to fatten a small army, not to mention all that square footage of gingerbread real estate. Let’s just assume it’s an alternative lifestyle choice, along the lines of supergenius Wile. E. Coyote yearning after Roadrunner drumsticks in spite of the fact that he had enough credit to order truckloads of expensive gadgets from the ACME Corporation.
(On the subject of ghoulish folks developing a fondness for ‘long pig’ just what DID those darling children do with the oven fired witch after they fried her arse?)
We all know how this ends, after making off with the witch’s portable property the kids, in a remarkable act of forgiveness, share their taxfree windfall with their deadbeat dad...though their step mother has obligingly dropped dead in the meanwhile.
Hmm, did anyone actually see step-mama and Ms Witch in the same room at the same time?
Don’t expect a Post-Modern fractured fairytale from Hansel and Gretel and you won’t be led astray by what’s essentially a traditionally told, moderately unsettling film.
Director- Anne Wild
Screenwriter- Peter Schwindt
2006/76mins
-THE HOLY MOUNTAIN-
MEXICO
If you thought Alejandro Jodorowsky’s third film, El Topo, was weird...well, no caca Sherlock!
Wait until you get a load of this....
His next surreally allegorical outing, 1973’s The Holy Mountain, scales even more whackily experimental heights. Like El Topo, The Holy Mountain has also been recently, lovingly restored, all the better to trip out on the eye bulging psychedelic imagery!
Again, as with El Topo, the nominal protagonist is on a messianic quest to achieve enlightment. Even more ironically symbolic in this case since the central thief character bears a strong and exploitable resemblance to the traditional representation of Jesus Christ.
Horácio Salinas plays the hapless thief, leaving Jodorowsky himself the catalytic role of a tower dwelling alchemist who charges him to accompany seven influential but materialistic powerbrokers to Lotus Island where they will achieve eternal life once they have climbed the eponymous Holy Mountain.
Initially the dialogue is thin on the ground but soon ramps up to cheerfully inexplicable levels where a line like “hypersexed brown native vampires” can pass without comment or indeed comprehension. Politics, art, sexuality, and filmmaking, amongst many other subjects, all cop a satirical hiding in this extraordinary film which relies heavily upon fantasy imagery drawn from tarot cards, astrology and religion.
Just listing a few of the oddball ideas gives you an idea of the unique scope of Jorodowsky’s fevered imagination.
Two women are ‘cleansed’ of clothing, make-up, jewellery, false nails, and hair by a black robed priest who himself has ebony varnished fingernails. A screaming man lies covered in tarantulas...no big acting stretch there! The Invasion of Mexico is renacted by lizards dressed in Mezoamerican costumes battling frogs wearing Conquistador armour and missionary robes. (I have my doubts about this sequence, it sure looks like the poor frogs are really being blown up by explosives?) A mulitple amputee writes cryptic messages in the dirt with a severed animal leg. Parading prostitutes turn out to be just as holy as priests. Roman soldiers cast the thief in plaster and create a line of life-sized crucifiction merchandise. Art factory paint coated nude backsides stamp out images on a production line while live body painted nudes are built into installations so they can be fondled by gallery patrons. Gas masked soldiers attend dances and machine guns and hand grenades are painted in rainbow colours. Spartan like warriors pursue a cunning plan to emasculate 1000 heroes to create a shrine of 1000 testicles....and nevermind what they did with the other 1000! Eviscerated victims spill chicken guts....and I mean they literally pull chickens from their wounds’ while Liederhosen wearing Teutonics trip on drugs and strongmen are able to turn intangible and teleport through entire mountains.
Distantly reminiscent of Fellini’s Satyricon, and to some extent Roma, The Holy Mountain also boasts the most startling Orgasmatron machine since the erotic cult film Barbarella, in the form of a Giant mechanical vagina that’s manipulated like a theramin.... well, if a theramin was played by a giant dildo!
Is it any surprise, really, in the wake of the cult success of El Topo, that The Holy Mountain’s producer Allen Klein also managed The Beatles and that those fans of all things psychedelic, John Lennon and Yoko Ono helped fund the movie?
Landmark or landfill experimental film? The Holy Mountain remains an obvious precursor to movies like Eraserhead, The Cremaster Cycle, and The Qatsi Trilogy.
Climb it at your own peril. (You know you want to!)
Director/Screenwriter Alejandro Jodorowsky
1973/114mins
-lLS-
France
Clementine (Olivia Bonamy) and Lucas (Michael Cohen) live happily in pastoral rural isolation in a rundown chalet in the Romanian woods, until one night they are attacked by....THEM! No, not by lurching giant ants from a 1950s horror film but by...well, that would be telling. Some horror films take their time building suspense but Moreau and Palud’s shiversome first feature nails you straight to the wall and keeps you hanging there for the economical just-over-an-hour’s running time. And I do mean ‘running’.
The adept direction and unrelating pace set within the atmospheric confines of the old chalet (a dream of a location to create nightmares in) is ramped up by genuinely unnerving sound effects design, an evocatively tense soundtrack, solid if necessarilly Spartan performances by the two leads, and the teasing revelation of the nature of the besiegers.
There’s nothing particularly new about the ingredients stirred into this terrifying mix. In fact, you could, after the credits have rolled and the lights come up again, sit back and tick off the horror cliches one by one, starting with the usually tiresome pronouncement, “Based On A True Story”. Commentators seem uncertain about the veracity of that, but in this case it adds to the overall feel of unease that permeates the ending of this film. I found myself thinking, “Y’know, I can see how that could actually happen....brrrr!”
Ils...it took me a while to realise that the title is merely the French word for “Them”... is one of the most disturbing horror films I’ve seen in some time, and all without buckets of blood or lashings of sickly inventive torture porn. With its efficient minimalist approach it’s very close in tone to the best of the New Wave of Japanese horror that burst upon the West several years ago now.
Directors/ Screenwriters- David Moreau and Xavier Palud
2006/70 mins
-ISLAND OF LOST SOULS-
DENMARK
A big budget supernatural fantasy for young adults that's part Spielberg, part Lucas, with an added dash of Harry Potter, but which ultimately wears its ample CGI well to create an enjoyable and in a few places reasonably scary film.
When two children move to a quiet country town the last thing they expect to find is a haunted island plagued by a supernatural confluence of kidnapped souls. When a young girl taps into the mystic mayhem it results in her brother being possessed by the spirit of a centuries dead member of an ancient order of sorcerous crimefighters.
The film's young actors are capable and ‘self possessed’ in the face of some quite formidable magical opposition, including a new and nasty take on that familiar player from Central Horror Casting, the living Scarecrow, along with a necromancer who could be brother to both Nosferatu and the Star Wars Emperor, right down to the cadaverous features and handy ability to cast Sith lightning from his fingies! I especialy liked the offbeat character of the trainspotting psychic investigator who inevitably comes to the kid’s aid in their hour of dire peril.
A fun little romp that’s no longer than it should be at an economical 100 minutes.
Director- Nikolaj Arcel
Screenwriter- Ramsus Heisterberg
2007/100mins
Sessions
Sun, 12th of August, 1:00 PM
ACMI
-KHADAK-
Belgium/Germany/The Netherlands
Bagi, played by Batzul Khayankhyarvaa, is a young nomad, who, along with his family are wrenched from their nomadic existence by the Mongolian government who want to consolidate people in towns, villages and cities as the fledgling democracy gears up to enter the 21st century’s global economy. After rescuing Zolzaya (Tsetsegee Byamba), a beautiful female coal thief, Bagi boldly goes where nomad has gone before on a shamanistic quest that culminates in fantastical revelations about Mongolia’s future relation with the environment.
Khadak is underpinned by a hypnotically compelling narrative fascination with magic realism that often contrasts the shabby reality of the concrete high rises with the colourfully organic traditional nomadic traditional yurt dwellings.
The film overflows with powerful imagery, including a simple but effective camera roll that causes an iconistic prayer-scarf draped tree to turn upside down as the land itself is inverted by mineral exploitation and pollution. A deserted town, in reality an abandoned former Soviet barracks, stands in for one potential future. Tractors, used to haul the disassembled yurts, are started and allowed to run aimlessly free across the steppes as the government agents burn the nomads’ links to their former lifestyle behind them.
Khadak doesn’t always offer too nostalgic a view of the nomadic struggle; many of the former rural folk cheerfully adapt to their new circumstances and some seem to pragmatically thrive, especially Bagi’s mother, who ends up running heavy machinery at the coal mine where immense draglines swing with saurian grace across the screen.
The film’s reverberating score resonates across the wind blown, echoing steppes, giving way to some moments of pure musical bliss, especially when some of the newly urbanised young people get together for astonishing ‘jam’ sessions.
Both lyrical and hard edged Khadak is a film, like Martin Scorsese’s Kundan, whose exotic sights and sounds will be welcome guests in my yurt for as long as they choose to stay.
Directors/Screenwriters- Peter Brosens, Jessica Hope Woodworth
2006/105mins
-LAST WINTER, THE-
USA/Iceland
It’s damn cold in Northern Alaska but not cold enough, as tough but soft centered Ron Perlman’s advance oil drilling preparation crew discover when they set out to re-open an isolated test drilling site that may be viable in the face of looming energy shortages. The arctic circle tundra is thawing rapidly, unleashing the kind of environmental horror movie that used to be in vogue back in the 1970s and which is all too timely now as global warming makes its presence felt in the real world.
Perlman, as usual, is excellent, giving the kind of inflected performance that graced Hellboy, Cronos, City Of Lost Children and his impressive work in the television fantasy series Beauty & The Beast. The ensemble players are also deftly sketched in, often in a low key fashion that adds realism.
Director Larry Fessenden successfully follows up and even references in one brief bit of dialogue, Wendigo, one of his earlier, not entirely disimilar horror outings. As with some other genre films in this year’s festival the horror elements are timeless; from the simmering sexual and tensions and hostility between the boffins and the bluecollars to the classic scenario of the besieged ice station. The latter is a character in itself, in the ‘Thingy’ tradition of both Howard Hawks and John Carpenter’s seperate adaptations of John W. Campbell’s seminal very Cold War science fiction novella, Who Goes There? Best possible use is made of this stunning location, as the screen often becomes an overwhelmingly vast white or dark canvas to trap and diminish the hapless blue collar workers.
Crystal clear sound design helps ‘sell’ the visuals and the impressive CGI special effects are first rate, without ever detracting from the practical drama of the sheer dangers of living and working in such an extreme environment.
The Last Winter is a cunningly ambiguous chiller that cleverly maintains a plausible alternative explanation for the film’s lethal events up to and possibly including the final admirably restrained frame which begs teasingly to be opened out into a wider shot but leaves the audience wanting more, leaving room for a possible but unecessary sequel.
Oil be back!
Director- Larry Fessenden
Screenwriters- Larry Fessenden, Robert Leaver
2006/107mins
-MEN AT WORK-
IRAN
A carload of Iranian buddies on their way down the mountains from a skiing holiday stop for a toilet break at a precipitous roadside layover and discover a monolithic rock
that just HAS to be tumbled down the slopes.
If you’re a bloke, you automatically know how it is.
If you’re a woman, equally, you KNOW how we are!
An amusing exploration of male bonding and stubborness this happily crazy film is guaranteed to contain no sociopolitical allegory whatsoever (really!) and the Iranian writer/director has asked that the U.S please refrain from invading his leg of the Axis of Evil until he has finished his next project.
Director/Screenwriter- Mani Haghighi
2006/75mins
-SEVERANCE-
UK
When completely politically incorrect arms merchant Palisade Defence rewards its crack Euro Sales division with a team-building weeked in the woods of Eastern Europe the mismatched but archtypal bickering office workers soon find that they’re not quite the ‘gun’ group that they thought they were.
Yes, the comparison of choice is The Office meets Deliverance and that’s fair enough because what makes this movie so gormlessly funny is the inept Brits Abroad schtick combined with an equally knowing, wickedly timed take on the horror slasher genre that puts most inept Hollywood fun with fear spoofs to more shame than ever. The only time this film ever really fumbles is when it takes the horror too seriously, which is not all that frequently, though more noticably and perhaps inevitably, in the apocalyptic last reel.
Oddly, Severence’s particularly grungy baddies who get to fold, spindle and mutilate our heroic twonks remind me very much of the “Stalkers” from the recent popular video game, which itself references the Tarkovsky film and the less well known science fiction novel that classic is itself based on, Boris and Arkady Strugatsky’s Roadside Picnic.
The heavyweight British ensemble cast is a real corker here, and one of the most enjoyable in the festival films I’ve seen this year, including at least one former Bond villain (Toby Stephens who was Gustav Graves in Die Another Day) and the always wetly amusing Tim McInnerny who plays to his well known Blackadder type (He was both Lord Percy and Captain Darling) as the incompetent boss of the Palisade’s party.
I won’t be the last reviewer to note that Eastern Europe has become destination of choice for horror filmmakers of late. Attracted by threatening woodlands, abandoned buildings and low cost production facilities the exotic locales also perhaps wallow in a degree of smug and possibly premature Western superiority in the wake of the economic collapse of former Eastern Bloc foes. For the moment, these once hard to access countries are providing filmmakers with a place to set their stories ‘beyond the glow of the streetlights’. Again, as with other festival genre films, Severence does benefit from a marvelously decrepit Old Dark house of a location.
Severence is laced with joyfully understated sight gags, dialogue to listen for, and a good deal of well meaning irony regarding corporate responsibility. The icing on the cake is a musical score that fiddles with both ominous gypsy curses, pop tunes and even riffs off We’ll Meet Again as featured in Stanley Kubrick’s Dr Strangelove, to which black comedy there’s more than one reference.
Severance gives awful new meaning to the term, “You’e fired!”
Director- Christopher Smith
Screenwriters- James Moran, Christopher Smith
2006/90mins
-STILL LIFE-
HONG KONG/CHINA
An intimate but involving look at the disapora of displaced persons produced by China's Three Gorges Dam mega-engineering project as seen through the eyes of two people.
In the first part of the film coal miner Han Sanming (played by Sanming Han) returns after 16 years absence to his former home town of Fengjie, only to find its 2000 years of history submerged beneath the waters of the dam. Taking a temporary job in demolition, he searches for news of his ex wife, whom he hasn’t seen for 16 years.
Still Life never wanders far from the dominating horizontal visuals of the mighty Yangtze River and the monolithic concrete and steel dam. The apocalyptic rubble of the yet-to-be flooded part of the town forms another powerful metaphor, a full stop to the flow of linear time represented by the River, which itself has been given pause by the immense project.
It’s a hard life for Han, though undoubtedly far less dangerous than the notoriously hazardous Chinese coal mining industry, and it provides some extraordinary imagery.
Men in supposedly protective suits with sanitising back pack sprayers wander through gutted homes. Friends are made amongst workmates to the jaunty ringtones of their mobile phones as they exchange numbers...a socialising ritual that later prompts one of the film’s most poignant moments when a mobile ‘s unanswered ringing signals a tragic accident. Condemned buildings collapse with tired grace in the distant background as they receive explosive coup de grâces.
The second half of the film segues into another quest for closure, as Nurse Shen Hong (Tao Zhao) journeys to the town looking for her own estranged husband.
Again, the dam is another defining presence in the story, providing a backdrop for the final resolution of Shen Hong’s search.
One baffling scene (and I’d welcome any light that anyone can shed on this!) sees Shen staring at a large monument in the distance. It appears to be a Chinese alphabetical character, rendered in concrete. As she turns away, rocket motors ignite at its base and the whole giant structure lifts off into the skies. I assume this is some kind of reference to the recent successes of the Chinese manned space programme but am not sure as to why it’s relevant to the story? Unless it’s just a bit of triumphalism? Or indeed, because Shen does ignore the startling sight, perhaps it’s meant to be ironic? Enquiring minds need to know!
Actually, the overall philosophical conclusion drawn at the end of Still Life does read a little bit like some kind of inspirational tract to me....but that may just reflect my own bias, or again it could be ironic, and I won’t spoil the ending by going further into detail. (Well, cross cultural puzzles have always attracted me to World Cinema!)
Still Life is a beautifully visualised, thoughtful film with a measured pace that aptly reflects the larger elements that form the canvas that its smaller, but no less important, human dramas are played out against.
Director/Screenwriter- Jia Zhang-ke
2006/108mins
-THE WAR TAPES-
USA
Rather than be 'embedded' in a U.S military unit in Iraq filmmaker Deborah Scranton chose to give cameras to three National Guardsmen to record their own experiences deployed with Charlie Company, 3rd of the 172nd New Hampshire Mountain Infantry. Scranton provided additional remote directorial aid via text messaging and email to the three soldiers, Sgts. Stephen Pink and Zack Bazzi, and Specialist Michael Moriarty, whose stories were chosen from an overall pool of 1000 hours of footage.
The soldiers’ personal and professional accounts are sobering and revelatory and never less than enlightening.
Though it does this remarkably cohesive documentary something of a disservice to cherry pick material out of its sturdily engineered overall context it’s necessary to give some idea of the range of material included in the film.
We see several ambush eye views of the destructive force of roadside Improvised Explosive Devices which, though initiated and responded to with varying degrees of control by both combatant forces, usually result in chaos and confusion, death and destruction, for bystanders. One soldier matter-of-factly tours a vast graveyard of combat lossed vehicles, shattered and gutted by I.E.Ds, casting in an increasingly ironic light President Bush’s triumphantly naive 2003 announcement that “Major combat operations in Iraq have ended...”
The complexity of night operations are mirrored in the silvered eyed stare of soldiers seen through the eerie but tactically invaluable lenses of night vision equipment , rendering one formation of troops strikingly like a formation of stolid Terracotta Warriors. The detached professionalism of the soldiers understandably falters when a night time convoy kills a woman who was then struck repeatedly by each truck in turn.
The irony of soldiers and hired civilians (drivers and security guards) risking and losing their lives to protect re-supply cargos of, for example, cheese for hamburgers, is not lost on the troopers who wonder loudly if the complex and highly profitable logistical tail is wagging the policy dog? In fact, they’re refreshingly unguarded in their speculations about what they see, from their perspective as boots on the ground, as the reasons behind the ongoing war. Their observations are pithy, and to the point...or, rather, multiple points, as the individual opinions cover the entire spectrum of current controversy, from oil driven conspiracy to patriotic war on terror.
Soldiers will always enthusiastically relish the opportunity to grouse about their lot, reserving special venom for the shortcomings of their equipment, training, rations and orders. One complaint amongst many was that these soldiers received little or no cultural instruction to help prepare them for operating in the Iraq theatre, which ommission makes it hard to both know the enemy or understand your friends. Even a simple misunderstanding over a commonly used hand gesture for ‘Stop’ can, in the local environment, be fatally mistaken for ‘Hello!”
The fact that the Iraq conflict is, in reality, fought amongst peoples homes rather than some spiffily titled combat theatre, warzone or neutrally termed area of operations is thoughtfully underlined by frequent segues to the soldiers’ American homes, either when the troops have returned or during their absence. Surface impressions notwithstanding there doesn’t seem to be a great deal of difference between U.S and Iraqi civilians; folks, it seems, are alike all over. Stateside sequences touch upon the complicated effects that the deployment had on civilian family members, the problems of post traumatic stress disorder suffered by the veterans, and the more obvious physical injuries. For example, one of the soldiers has carpal tunnel syndrome in his hands, the result of vibration transmitted through the grips of his vehicle mounted machine gun on patrol. He also has to cope with back pain from wearing body armour in a confined space.
Crammed with ‘real time’ feedback from ongoing conflict The War Tapes makes a provocative companion piece with the 2005 documentary Gunner Palace. For balance I would also add to the recommended viewing list: Control Room (2004), Baghdad ER (2006), and My Country, My Country (2006)
Director- Deborah Scranton
2006/97mins
-WELCOME TO NOLLYWOOD-
USA/NIGERIA
Never heard of the Nigerian film industry? This inspiringly cheeky doco will rectify that and should be seen by all budding filmmakers seeking new ways to practice their art.
Something like 2400 movies per year are produced in Nigeria, making it the third most prolific film industry in the world. Film? Well, that’s a nostalgically generic term to describe the Nigerians’ enthusiastic bypassing of conventional film stock and its complex and expensive infrastructure in favour of digital video distributed directly and cheaply at local marketplaces on DVD or VCD.
The 300 or so Nigerian directors have an already rich tradition of oral storytelling to draw upon, and have embraced multiple genres usually lensing them through an action adventure filter, which has fostered a support industry of movie fight Action Camps where actors can learn the stunt fight business. Although one director claims “We don’t do science fiction” Nollywood nevertheless loves fantasy, especially religious based melodramas with plenty of demons and angels, sorcererors and witches.
Period films set in Nigeria often have a luridly portrayed but understandably anti-slavery element, which alongside with the witchcraft angle concerns some commentators who argue that focusing on these aspects promotes stereotypes.
A visit to the set of a film grounded in the recent Liberian war shows the Nigerian director, who at least partly funded the movie himself, putting his actors through boot camps to learn how to fill out their soldierly roles, including veteran advisors from both sides of the original conflict. The actors go through production hell but ironically are brought low by a botched contract with the caterers...
Nollywood; not entirely different from Hollywood!
Director- Jamie Meltzer
2007/58mins
-U-
FRANCE
A lyrical French animated feature with fluidly drawn artwork and an equally languid, but elegant plot as a Princess Mona is faced with choosing between new love and a beloved friend, who happens to be a unicorn. The charming, anthropomorphic animal cast could have been drawn by Dr Seuss, and the story is a souffle of flirtatious love with a playful musical topping.
Directors- Grégoire Solotareff, Serge Elissalde
Screenwriter- Grégoire Solotareff
2006/71mins
The Silken whisper of Flickering Desires
A Chronicle
Adapted from the Final Entry Entitled:
Their Regal Gambit
Subtitled:
While Sherlock Holmes vacationed
The first score had been made, now for the Coup de Grace! So far their little operation had gone as smooth as silk, or in this case, satin. Now just to make sure the husband of the silken gowned brunette displaying the jewels in question was still safely out of the picture! Then Mollie would let her husband know that with the coast clear, freeing him to stage his approach of the lady in the long swishing satin gown he had been keeping an eye on all evening. The one who was wearing the exquisite necklace of fiery flickering diamonds, just daring someone to expertly slip it away the throat of its unsuspecting owner.
And therein lay the rub, She happily thought….
As Mollie made her way down the quiet corridor to the gentlemen’s smoking lounge, she lovingly played through her mind the series of unfortunate ( or fortunate?) events that had led her and her husband to this place. It had all began with an innocent one named Tabitha…….
Mollies’ Flash back
They had first come across Tabitha at a resort casino deep in the Catskills. Mollie and her husband had been there about three days, scoping out the grounds, and its wealthy clientele. At the casino they both spotted Tabitha at the same time. She was seated at a baccarat table, really standing out in an elegant dress of gold and black striped silk and velvet Her well-toned body displayed numerous pieces of expensive jewelry. A fat little purse dangled, unheeded by her side. Tabitha had held Mollie’s attention mainly due to the strong resemblance she had to herself. Tabitha’s jewelry, a flashy diamond journey style necklace, matching earrings, wide diamond tennis bracelet, and multiple gem encrusted rings, had held Mollies pickpocket husbands’.
Mollie went on to the bar and watched as her husband waited for the seat next to Tabitha to become vacant. Then he sat, asking for chips, while unobtrusively eyeing Tabitha’s bracelet. He began striking up a conversation with Tabitha, finding her to be an easy mark. He soon learned from the chatty girl that she was a divorced, upper executive for a well-known digital arts company servicing the movie industry. It was during this conversation that Tabitha babbled about the upscale, invitation only(you know), black tie formal ball she would be attending in England the next month. Now, as her husband was keeping Tabitha occupied Mollie had walked by the pair, ‘tripping’ into her husband, who palmed off to her , the diamond bracelet which had been ever so subtly slipped from around the unwary Tabatha’s’ wrist. Walking away with the bracelet secured in her purse, Mollie made her way to their small bungalow. Her husband did not break in his conversation with Tabitha; a mark would seldom suspect a friendly person of stealing from her.
Later that evening, Mollie wore the pricy bracelet while mutually admiring it over a bottle of merlot with her husband. They discussed the high-class affair Tabitha had been bragging about. Wistfully, Mollie admitted it was a shame they had not received an invite. Her husband smiled, and pulled a thickly embossed and crested envelope from his pocket. Easily adopting a British accent, he said “The silly little twit was carrying this in her purse!” The envelope revealed a pair of invitations to the Princess’s Jubilee Royal Ball. As the pair continued to empty the bottle of fine merlot, what had started as speculation, turned towards reality, and soon plans had been laid.
As they lay in bed later that night, Mollie turned to her husband, just think about the jewels that will be worn at the English Ball, she shivered with the delightful thoughts. Do you remember the last time we were in England? Mollie looked at her husband slyly, you remember, the Wriggling Whelp Whispering Wisk! She stated teasingly. Mollie knew the quickest way to get her husband’s goat was coming up with silly phrases to describe his more outlandish endeavors. Such phrases like The Tingling Touch Ice Melt, The Slippery Slick Taffeta Pull, The Glossy Gowned Dangling Peel, or her personal favorite, The Ticklish Wedge Clam Dip, never failed to get a response. In this case the response was a brief pillow fight leading into a romantic interlude, ending up with them in bed as they reminisced about the last time they had “visited” England a few years back…..
It had proven a fairly profitable venture with the jewelry alone netting almost 100,000 pounds. It all had culminated quite nicely at one of the posh events they had crashed that final weekend. Their final score had come about from a rambunctious doe eyed Fourteen year old in a shiny dress who had been oblivious to the valuably delicious gold pendent studded with small rubies and emeralds that sparkled ever so invitingly as it swung from her throat. A pair of matching dangling earrings dripped from her ears as she has run around unminded by her elders. Mollie had indignantly stated to her husband that the antique trinkets were simply just too expensive for a child so squirminly young to be trusted with. Her husband then went about the task to prove his wife correct in her statement.
After talking a bit about the English Girls parents reaction to the unsolved disappearance of their daughters ultra-pricey pendent , Mollie came back to the present and asked if the lady in the maroon silk that her husband pointed out the previous evening would be wearing the same jewels to the dance tomorrow night? Or better her husband replied sleepily, good Mollie pronounced, I did like her emeralds.
In Merry Ole England
They had arrived in England several weeks before the Royal Ball and began the preparations.
In an irony of fate, the profit they had realized from poor Tabitha’s bracelet had paid for a large chunk of their little excursion. Keeping his accent, and adding a trim beard, Mollies husband looked radically different from the man Tabitha had encountered. During the weeks following their arrival, the pair had practiced like they always did before undertaking a new venture. But this time it was with a more daring edge, they quite simply could not afford being caught red handed in a foreign country. Mollie assumed her practice the role. That of the richly dressed, well jeweled quarry. Her husband would stalk and attempt to relieve her of a piece of her jewelry as she went about her business, shopping! The idea being that, If he was able to do so without being caught by an obviously aware Mollie, than he should have no problem at the Royal Ball. As it usually happened when they practiced in this manner, her husband did incredibly well. Mollie had had several pieces of jewelry vanish from her person during the week, without her noticing how or when.
The final night of practice Mollie decided to dress to kill. Looking quite devastating in a glossy gold halter and a long brown velvet skirt with gold stiletto heels clicking as she moved. A diamond heart pendant hung down from her neck, swaying provocatively out from between her breasts. A bracelet, similar to Tabitha’s purloined diamonds, was wrapped around her wrist.
She left their penthouse and made her way to the street outside. Some type of festival was going on as she waded through the crowded streets to the nightclub. Her rings sparkled as they kept rhythm with her swaying diamond waterfall earrings. Just daring her husband to make a move for any of them.
Mollie drank and danced the night away with no hide or hair of her husband until she returned late that evening to their apartment. She found him in the hot tub, smirking. She undressed and joined him. Okay, how did u do it she demanded? I felt nothing, no one bumped or brushed against me all evening that I was not aware of. He opened his fist, allowing her heart diamond pendant to dangle freely in front of her. A magician never reveals his tricks my little cat, he purred, as the pendant swayed in a sparkling arch.
Cat was short for “Cat Lady”, a moniker he had placed upon her when she had broken into a sleeping woman’s room and removed the jewels from her gold case, and even managed to slip off a ring she was wearing. The fact that she was passed out in a drunken stupor, still dressed in her long party gown, didn’t count , or so her husband teased.
You should have been a surgeon! , my dear, Mollie exclaimed with pride. Then she leaned towards him, her green eyes gleaming in earnest, time for a real practice run Mon Cherie, she said in dead seriousness. Then Her eyes opened wide, I got it she exclaimed, I’ll call it The Slinking Sneaky Shearing Snag she pronounced joyfully, getting a face full of water in reply to her effort. Okay Cat, let’s get down to business he retorted, I know just the affair. Mollie listened intensively as her Husband described their next plans, derived while eavesdropping on a couple of ladies shopping in a jewelers.
The next weekend (two weeks to the evening before the Royal Ball) Mollie found herself at a quaint upscale wedding reception held in the large gardens of a country church. She was attired in the same bewitching ensemble that she had been wearing on the final night of practice. Her only jewels were a recently acquired pair of sparkly cascading earrings set with emeralds and diamonds. The affair of the plump piqued peacock plucking she had mused while getting dressed. The only other exception was that the long fiery red hair she had inherited from her Irish namesake grandmother had been cut and dyed blond. Blue contacts had also been added to the disguise to hide her vivid green eyes.
They soon targeted an older jewel laden snob at the reception. An older lady , well jeweled, of the arrogant know it all, obey me totally type whom everyone tries to avoid. While Mollie engaged the mark in a mostly one sided conversation(the older ladies) the lady had become so deeply engrossed about talking about herself and her ties with royalty, that she never detected being relieved of a heirloom antique gold chain and jeweled pendent by Mollies husband who had approached her unnoticed from behind.
It was all Mollie could do no to bring attention to it by looking at the wickedly expensive piece as it was slipped up and away from the Dowager’s ruffled heavy satin blouse.
This time it was mollies turn to keep chatting as her husband headed to the door. He had almost made it when two youths ran into him as they scurried away from a rather sullen looking tween girl they had been teasing, and now were in possession of her purse. Mollie stole a look as she saw her husband topple onto the chasing girl. He managed to extracted himself from the girls long slinky gown that she had probably been forced into by an overly conceited mother. He apologized, and left the girl to go after her antagonizes. Later, when Mollie had caught up to him she teased him about his clumsiness. He just smiled, and pulled out from his vest pocket the most exquisitely matched pearls that the youth had been openly displaying from around her throat and wrist at the reception!
They were, most definitely, ready. The fated evening could not come soon enough. But it finally did.
They had had no problem with using the fancy invitations to gain entrance. Security was heavy, as expected, but with a very lax atmosphere. Mollie was wearing the salmon coloured gown she had had especially made for such occasions, her new blond hair style and the blue contacts. In a coup foray of sorts, Mollie wore the pearls that had been taken by her husband during his run in with the sullen girl at the wedding reception. Her husband was wearing his usual tux with a hand tied bowtie. His ruffled sleeves easily moved up and down along his wrists.
Mollie and her husband split up, each spending the first few hours mingling solo, and taking it all in as they thoroughly enjoyed the Ball and all its many stimulating attractions. It had gone smooth as silk. Spending the first few hours prowling while the guests liquored up Mollie scoping out exactly the right candidates. Dangling jewels with easy clasps were everywhere!, it was surprising how the best of jewel makers skimped on the clasps required to keep the expensive pieces in place. Clothing also made a difference. Silks and satins were quiet and slipped easily. Taffeta could be whispery, more of a challenge. Velvet could easily snag as a piece was being lifted. But these were the costliest of materials, and the wearers would logically be wearing the costlier of jewelry.
Mollie and her husband regrouped several hours later, unobtrusively under the pretense of dancing. Gently discussing their plans. They settled on three likely prospects amongst the almost three hundred present. The first was an older spinster type wearing a luxurious dress of embroidered navy silk and displaying jewelry studded with diamonds and sapphires. The second was a middle aged snotty blonde wearing a shamelessly low cut green silk taffeta gown (which Mollie secretly liked)wearing a thick gold bracelet studded with vulgarly large rubies surrounded by a sea of small sparkly diamonds. She was alone, and a heavy drinker. The third was a longshot. A lanky , flighty brunette wearing immensely valuable jewels of blindingly sparkling Diamonds. Her necklace alone was in the upper hundred thousand range, with a clasp that was one of the easiest to coax open. The only problem was that she came with an obviously newlywed husband who doted on her every move. Both were heavy drinkers, and if he would only leave his wife’s side for, say about fifteen minutes, the necklace would be theirs!
They had decided that any one of the three would produce results worth a king’s ransom, appropriately enough, all things considered. The plan was for her husband to take his time selecting the easiest jewel to acquire from amongst the ones the three marks were displaying , make his move, and pass it off to Mollie who would leave forthwith, while her husband stayed a little while longer to make sure everything remained calm before making his exit stage right via the hallway.
As Mollie went to her station, she saw the Blue silken lady, along with her sapphires and diamonds, leaving with a rather unsavory looking male, eyeing her with a look Mollie knew all too well. Mollie decided to follow them, thinking to herself that some women are just prone to being victimized. Good luck with that one Mollie thought unkindly, as she stole one last look at the ladies glistening sapphires, hope he leaves her with something she sarcastically wished wickedly to the couple’s backside as they went out the exit at the end of the hall. One down and out she thought. Then she spied the husband of the newlywed pair heading down the hall towards her with an older, grey bearded man. Getting close she heard them talking about the Gentlemen’s smoking lounge. Mollie decided to give her husband a signal, but when she found him he was already in the arms of the blond. Molly immediately noticed the absence of the jeweled bracelet from his partners’ wrist. She went back to her table. Immediately she was set upon by some drunken snob asking her to dance. She allowed herself to be taken up into his arms. Spending a few unenchanting minutes with Mr. two left feet, before her husband tapped him on the shoulder cutting in. They danced, Mollie placing a hand into his pocket and feeling something cold and metal wrapped her hand around it. Looking him in the eyes she told him about the now unguarded bride, as she palmed the willowy blonde’s bracelet. They decided to go for it, and as the music ended, Mollie made her way to the hall, where she secreted the blondes bracelet safely away
One down, one more to go! An exquisite necklace of flickering diamonds waiting to be nimbly slipped away from the throat of its unsuspecting wearer. Now just to make sure the husband of the silken gowned brunette displaying the jewels in question was still safely out of the picture! Then to let her husband know that with the coast clear, he was free to stage his approach of the lady in the long swishing satin gown he had been keeping a drooling eye on all evening. The one wearing the exquisite necklace of flickering diamonds waiting to be so expertly slipped away from the throat of its unsuspecting wearer.
She was able to see the groom in windowed room, the husband and his friend were smoking a pair of long cigars and drinking brandy in large glass snifters. Mollie passed unnoticed as she mad e her way to the ladies powder room. He was still there, only halfway through a long stogie as she passed again on her way back. Neither time was she observed. Mollie mad her way back to the Ballroom. She sat down at one side of the room, once again allowing the sights of so many bejeweled women to soak in. Her husband was dancing with a lady in a flowing red ball gown, jewels sparkling in abundance, not aware of the danger so close at hand, nor that even with her husband and his particular skill set so close to them, that at that moment nothing could be safer from his fingertips. Finally she caught her husband’s eye. Mollie innocently rubbed a finger along the side of her nose, a subtle signal that it was safe for him to precede.
Mollie was now uncharacteristically having butterflies in her stomach; it was a huge gamble, trying to get away with a pair of thefts in this inhospitable atmosphere. She kept second guessing herself, Bird in hand she kept thinking. But the lure was too great, and it was with a heavy sigh of relief when Mollie saw her husband finally kiss the hand of the young bride after their dance. Mollie could see that she was no longer sporting the thin silver necklace and its row of at least two caret diamonds that had been encircling her throat with their rippling flashy brilliance all evening. Molly stayed put, not daring to leave until her husband had brushed by her in passing and made his way out the hallway to the exit. She waited for a long fifteen minutes, then curling her hand around the necklace that had been dropped into her lap as he had passed; she gained the safety of the hallway. Just in time. For coming down the hallway was none other than the lady in the long luxurious gown and now bare throats groom and his distinguished looking friend. She passed by them, feeling the men eyeing her with roving wolfish gazes. Then she passed them, and proceeded unhindered to once again enter the ladies’ powder room where the necklace soon joined with the Blondes bracelet in its hiding spot.. Than calmly Mollie left, walking past two security Bobbies, virtually unnoticed. The Groom had been absolutely ignorant to the fact that his young Bride’s ridiculously valuable necklace had walked right past him out the door.
Mollie did not let herself really breathe until she had gained the safety of the street. She allowed herself to imagine the commotion as the news of the missing jewels were circulated around the cavernous Ballroom. There would be a flurry of activity, flashes and sparkles as the women checked themselves reassuringly that they were still in possession of their trinkets. Mollie would have loved to have stayed and watched, but obviously could not do so. She rejoined her husband at their meeting place and they drove off. They made their way to Ireland where they spent a cautious week touring before leaving for the states.
Once the profit was realized from their haul that eventful evening, including obnoxious Dowagers the jeweled antique pendent, and was added in to the modest amount they had already accumulated from previous adventures, Mollie and her husband were able to retire to Ireland and live quite an unpretentious life together in a small stone manor in the woods.
Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives