Art parody
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Poor Kong. One look at that blond and he was dead meat...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=eOgwuZE_jp0
Serenity Style - Spark Plug Airplane
by Hanstrid Inshan
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Lost%20Dreams%20Island/32/...
Other Stuff
[:] Monkey Mohawk Hat - Grey
Radio-TV_relay By SebastianGeneticGFX
A&F Red Turning Beacon
GizzA - Cozy Layered Coat
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A bit of a twist to "The Princess Bride" ;-)
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Bento Mesh Head: Catwa Margeaux
Bento Mesh Body: Maitreya Lara
Face/Body Applier: Alexa
Hair: Somi by [monso]
Princess Buttercup gown (wearing "Blush") comes in six beautiful colors by Silvan Moon Designs (!!SMD!!) and is now available at the Enchantment @ maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Nymphai/220/68/2762
Bethan Hair Wreath by Hatpins
Enigma Eyes Applier: .euphoric
Piggyback Rideable ROUS*: Jinx & Mr N now available at the Enchantment @ maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Nymphai/220/68/2762
Piggyback ROUS*: JINX now available at the Enchantment @ maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Nymphai/220/68/2762
*ROUS: Rodents Of Unusual Size from "The Princess Bride"
Festive Cheese Snack: Schadenfreude
Gouda cheese slice: Amarea Arabello
Sweet Garden Grass06 - mix(warm colors): HPMD* (Happy Mood)
The Harmony Tree: Titans
Backdrop Medieval Kitchen: Pink Crystal
Old Magic Fountain w. Plants: ~ xantes ~
Flagstone Paths - Tiling Center: Stormwood
SIM: IPPOS @ maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Ippos/8/67/21
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Thanks (once again!) to Kitty von Cat for the use of her build for this!
Just having some fun. This was part of my Depeche Mode video spoof with the dogs. I did a remake of the classic video and myself and my dog Sabrina have a small cameo appearance. It's also on my photo stream "Dog lovers only"
1 : a female fox
2 : a shrewish, ill-tempered woman
When Arabella called her a treacherous vixen and a heartless, profligate hussy, she spoke out freely, and said that she wasn't going to be abused. —Anthony Trollope
3 informal : a sexually attractive woman
In this spy spoof, our hero, aided by a sexy vixen, … saves the world from a power-mad despot … —Steven Rebello
— vixenish play \-s(ə-)nish\ adjective
Wearing * Vanilla Bae * // Vixen latex outfit for Maitreya ( Stripme Enabled )@ Fetish Fair 2018
♥ - Fetish Fair 2018
♥ - Vanilla Bae MP
More pictures here:
♥ - Blog
Find me online here:
♥ - Twitter
Alfred E. Neuman immediately came to mind when I spotted this Northern Shoveler enjoying the morning light.
The Northern Shoveler:
The aptly named Northern Shoveler has a shovel-shaped bill that quickly sets it apart from other dabbling ducks. It is a medium-sized duck that tends to sit with its rear a bit higher out of the water almost like its bill is pulling its front half down.
Perhaps the most outwardly distinctive of the dabbling ducks thanks to its large spoon-shaped bill, the Northern Shoveler busily forages head down in shallow wetlands. Its uniquely shaped bill has comb-like projections along its edges, which filter out tiny crustaceans and seeds from the water.
If the bill doesn’t catch your eye, the male's blocky color palette sure will, with its bright white chest, rusty sides, and green head. The female is no less interesting with a giant orange bill and mottled brown plumage.
Northern Shovelers are monogamous and remain together longer than pairs of most other dabbling ducks. They form bonds on the wintering grounds and stay together until just before fall migration.
When flushed off the nest, a female Northern Shoveler often defecates on its eggs, apparently to deter predators.
The oldest recorded Northern Shoveler was a male, and at least 16 years, 7 months old when he was found in Nevada.
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Alfred E. Neuman:
In a 1975 interview with the New York Times, MAD Magazine founder Harvey Kurtzman recalled an illustration of a grinning boy he’d spotted on a postcard in the early fifties: a “bumpkin portrait,” “part leering wiseacre, part happy-go-lucky kid.” It was captioned “What, Me Worry?”
That bumpkin became Alfred E. Neuman, MAD’s mascot, who turns sixty six this year—kind of. The impish, immutable redhead made his official debut in December 1956, when he appeared on the cover of MAD no. 30 as a write-in candidate for president. He’s appeared on almost every MAD cover since: possessing, spoofing, and spooking cultural icons with nothing more than a drowsy rictus.
(a9ll, 200-600, 1/800 @ f/7.1, ISO 320)
If you've ever riden a young horse that's just under saddle then you may relate to this one.
Sometimes just about anything can cause these youngsters to lose it, and eat your lunch.
And just when you think it won't happen to you, It will. lol
Spoof ad - www.youtube.com/watch?v=NJOqsYi-a3s
Available at FaMESHed maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/FaMESHed/151/124/3493
www.youtube.com/watch?v=OuGivWRbtFU
Get your own suicide booth here at TMD maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/TMD/125/169/22
Watch the spoof ad for it here www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRGnvvldpU8
Get your own scooter and helmet here maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Uber/180/90/27
Thanks to Everyone who took the trouble to view, comment or fave.
Stonehenge is a prehistoric monument in Wiltshire, one of the most famous sites in the World
Recently on the telly, Laurence Llewelyn - Bowen has been striding purposefully around Stonehenge with paint colour charts pretending that he was intending to paint the stones for a spoof advert.
He reminded me of this shot I took (painted using lights), one night shortly after President Obama visited Stonehenge last time that Air Force One touched down in England - (The President said he'd always wanted to tick Stonehenge off his bucket list).
This shot demonstrates the concept of passive light painting - takes a bit of planning, but then you just have to point your camera in the right place & then the lighting's sorted for you.....
Bob's your uncle, Fanny's your Aunt.
Ambient lighting provided by the Full Moon (out of shot) & stars,
Very very faint Intermittent light painting on the front faces of the stones by distant car headlights (from the incessant stream of cars travelling Southwest on the A303)
Blue LED lighting inside Stonehenge by the security guards who were looking for me ;)
I'm much too fast - no worries!
Good game though :)
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Penny has a big surprise coming to her when she answers her door this time... Dr. Death stands there ready with "heart" balloons and lots of "not the usual" stuff just for her... maybe she ought to stay in tonight and keep that door triple locked... Whaddya think?
P.S. This Halloween spoof is inspired by The Big Bang Theory sitcom, in case you haven't seen it:
www.cbs.com/shows/big_bang_theory/
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PENNY! BACKDROP: cm*.MESH
Skye is wearing the Death Costume by Me & You
Dual Pose 2: Dragon Brothers
Beating Heart Balloons: BOUDOIR
Skeletons Glass Coffin: BOUDOIR
Bloody Male Body under the rug: BOUDOIR
Skelly Dinner Guest: *Shai*
Le Poppycock *Necromantic* To Die For (Skeleton in the coffin) (normally a prop to be used with another female avi) currently @ The Pose Fair
Le Poppycock *Necromantic* To Die For (Skeleton smoking against the wall next to the elevator) (normally a prop to be used with another female avi) currently @ The Pose Fair
Signature Top Hat on Skeleton by Couture Chapeau
Created for Artistic Manipulation Group’s Chef’s Mixmaster Challenge. Apologies to Caravaggio and that poor boy!
Our CHEF for MIXMASTER CHALLENGE #38 is Jaci XIV. Our mission is to create a manipulated and/or digital art image that uses Jaci's ingredients.
CHEF Jaci XIV wants us to enter the world of Baroque master Caravaggio ... sort of ;-).
➤ The basis of your image must be a painting by Caravaggio** (Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio).
➤ Your manipulated image must contain a modern object that did not exist in Caravaggio’s time.
➤ There must be wine in your image whether in a transparent glass or bottle or spilled.
➤ Part or all of the background should show the night sky.
➤ No abstraction or abstract elements. (In other words, your final image – no matter how surreal in content – should have a realistic presentation.)
The image was taken at an altitude of 40 miles from an experimental PX-100. Calibration was achieved using distilled water. On the bottom right of the image, one can clearly see Duck island...
p.s. It's just a rusty panel....
YouTube spoof ad - www.youtube.com/watch?v=MHqzHMoY-mw&t=9s
For more info about the FaMESHed Go HUD - fameshedgo.com/
DRD Main Store - //maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Death%20Row/130/138/21
Spoof Ad - www.youtube.com/watch?v=We6v2vI5Gso
SLURL to Uber - maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Uber/130/128/1200
It had been a long day, snowboarding and partying on the mountain. Both Maddy and Tupper, along with Tup's doggo Snooky had had a wonderful day.
But the girls had gotten bored and horny up there all alone. They'd shared a joint and drank the last of the beer when suddenly they came upon a super fun idea! A snowman!
So with a little intuition and the help of a bucket, some branches, and a particularly sizable carrot Frosty just sort of came alive!
Yippers, it was the day before Christmas Eve and it'd been amazing so far, but with a little lube, it was about to get even.. amazinger! *hiccup"
Posing with me is the incredible Madison Delgado (Maddy). Love you girl. Thanks so much for helping me with this. We had a lot of fun. What about Frosty? Hmm...I'll never tell. hehe.
long stories shortened... (discarded and abandoned and intertwined short stories) well..actually they are chunks and fragmets and notes of stories that never made it
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a young PhD math candidate writing his dissertation on an obscure arab mathematician from the middle ages who specialized in cycles and periods in infinite series and develops a process to determine prime number density in a large number space. (which is all and good) except this makes it an excellent tool to decrypting military grade encryption, which is based on the computational difficulty of factoring large numbers into their prime components
the arab mathematician was ultimately censured by the religious mullahs for developing tools to rationalize the infinite, which is of course the nature of Allah and for man to attempt to place Allah into a human scale is blasphemy
so the arab mathematician disappears and the young phd candidate finds that his dissertation has been suspended pending review but cant get any information on who is reviewing it
finally another young mathematician approaches him and starts a long discussion on math and the nature of numbers and the mathematicians love of the underlying structure of reality that math represents. the phd candidate is leary of this mathematician cause he wont answer what he does or where he went to school or how he knows so many cutting edge fields in math
eventually, the young mathematician offers the phd candidate a position with the NSA, National Security Agency, (where all the big crypto and high math goes on) but explains that if he accepts that he will essentially disappear from his current world. his work will be classified, he will not be able to publish in academic journals or speak in public, or talk about his work to his friends on the outside, but the compensation is that he
would be able to work unfettered with the greatest math minds in the country, totally funded, free to explore any field or fancy he thought. after a few moments of thought, the phd accepts.
then the story will go back to the arab mathematician who is also approached my a young beared mullah, who offers him a position within his group of thinkers who do ponder and explore the nature of nature reality and Allah through mathematics, but that by joining them he would need to disappear from the world, after a few minutes of thought, he too accepts...
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Daniel sipped his 6th coffee (colloidal suspension for caffeine transport) while his batch jobs on ramanet, the Indian supergrid, finished their checksum verification. His chin, a bit stubbly, itched. His eyes, a bit red, were sore. The goa trance shoutcast feed had mushed into a fast cadence drone. The flat screen monitor warped and bulged with the oscillating fan blowing on Daniel's face
'O' glamorous larval life of a PhD student...' he jotted and doodle-circled on his notepad.
Daniel cracked his neck and jutted his jaw, stretching out the accumulation of kinks, as RamaNet finished the final integrity check on his dataset. this two hour round of processing on the Indian supergrid would cost about $130 out of his precious grant fund, but you couldnt beat the bargain. 120 minutes times 150,000 PCs in the RamaNet processing collective = 1,080,000,000 seconds or 18,000,000 minutes or 300,000 hours or 12500 days or 34.25 years of processing time for the price of a video game. Calculation was commoditized now. You uploaded your pre-fromatted dataset to RamaNet. the data was packeted and sent to out to 150,000 Indians who lent a few percents of never-to-be missed CPU cycles off their systems for background processing. when their alotted package was completed it was sent back to RamaNet for re-assembly into something coherent for the buyer. in return the Indians got a rebate on their net access charges or access to premier bollywood galleries or credit towards their own processing charges. a good deal all the way around. Daniel's dataset, an anthology of complex proofs from a long-dead arab mathematician, was queued with amateur weather forecast modeling, home-brewed digital CGI for indie movies, chaos theory-based currency trading algorithms, etc. the really high end, confidential jobs, like protein folding analysis or big pharm drug trials were more likely handled by the huge western collectives of several million collaborative systems, usually high-performance machines in dedicated corporate server farms. the cost there was out of Daniel's range, but you got a faster return and better promises of encryption for your buck.
Daniel scratched his scalp and flexed his fingers. 'two months from today i will be a doctor of mathematics...and no job. damnit. i need to find something fast.' Daniel calculated in his mind how quickly the student loans repayments would kick in and completely wipe him out. RamaNet would have done it in nanoseconds, ha! he laughed to himself. Daniel had avoided the rounds of job interviews and recommendations that passed his way. he was too absorbed in his research to look ahead, and perhaps a bit intimidated by the idea of the job hunt flea market. flexing his CV, getting a monkey suit, trying to explain his research to recruiters, who were often the same finger-counting business majors in college that made his skin crawl. Daniel always felt a bit embarrassed when he announced he was math PhD candidate. folks would immediately glaze over,
tsk tsk out a 'that's interesting', and swiftly change the subject. something will come up, he mantra'd to himself over and over, something will come up. stick with ali, there is something real in there, just a bit deeper. the real problem was his thesis advisor. dr. fuentes was not returning his calls, his secretary was not taking appointments from Daniel. he had submitted his finished draft of his thesis two weeks ago, but hadnt heard back since, except for a cryptic email saying that the review committee was having some issues with his paper and that Daniel would be hearing from him shortly. Daniel was rerunning his calculations on RamaNet to assuage the gnawing doubt that he completely botched some component of his argument and that the review committee was debating some manner of telling him to redo the entire effort. no PhD and no job. that would ice the cake. Daniel started calculating his body mass and general aerodynamic resistance relative to the height of the school cathedral to figure out if he had time to reach a terminal velocity before impact...only a failed math PhD would attempt to determine at what speed his body would smack concrete, he morbidly thought to himself.
ali ja'far muhammed ibn abdullah al-farisi slipped meditatively on his cup of water, thinking about his proof. he dipped a finger in the cup and held up a droplet of water under his fingertip, watching the sunlight prisimatically splay out on the mouth of the cup. 'praise be Allah and his wonderous bounty' he mumured to himself.
the elders had been in conference all day over his proof. though the heavy doors to their chamber were closed, he would occasionally hear muffled but distinctly angry shouts. ali sat on a divan in the anteroom, served numerous cups of tea by an obviously nervous secretary. ali knew there was deep resistance to his research, but for the life of him he couldnt figure out why. he was a simple mathematician. he came up with some unique observations. he wanted to share them with his peers...
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Overview: biotech researcher discovers a new life-extension technology and is murdered. He is cryogenically frozen for 150 years. When he is
revived he must stop a dark corporate conspiracy – and find his murderer.
Summer 2015 - Hot genius free-lance biotech researcher unravels the key component of a radical life-extension gene therapy that will ensure 300 years of robust life to its recipients. The researcher is murdered shortly after he hides the critical component. His distraught friend has him cryogenically frozen. 150 years later, the researcher is revived by the same major bio-med corporation for which he had originally been working.
Quickly he realizes that their motives are less than altruistic: his modification of the gene therapy is needed to resolve an unforeseen debilitation now creeping up in the recipients of the life-extension process. The recipients, now nearing 125 years off added life, are decompensating into psychotics. The researcher at first tries to remember and reconstruct what he did with the hidden critical component, but stops in disgust when he learns that in the past 150 years the life-extension therapy has been reserved solely for the ultra-affluent and has created an extreme and cruel global gerontocratic elite. He voices his disgust to his corporate minders, who cease being beneficent and show their true colors as trying to gain control of this critical technology in order to control the elites.
In the process of dealing with the corporation, he learns about his murder and begins investigating.As he comes closer to the identity of his murderer, he uncovers a wider conspiracy and is the target of more murder attempts.
He was killed by a friend in 2015. The friend was the CEO of a small bio-gen firm that the researcher was doing the LET work for. The CEO, a biz-head with a genetics academic background, took the researcher’s work and exploited it as his own, in the process growing his small firm into a bio-med powerhouse and him into one of the world’s wealthiest individuals.
The CEO also was the first recipient of the LET and is now 190 years old, but doesn’t look a day over 45. Smart, urbane, ruthless, the CEO used his wealth and position to start the cabal of Ultras. It is a faction of the top 50 smartest and wealthiest people in the world who have ‘ascended from the world’ (faked their demise) and control the global economy with their vast coordinated wealth. Perhaps they will call themselves ‘The Ascended’. We need to decide how the cabal lives. Are they sequestered on a luxurious island compound, or do they live in the open, surgically re-sculpted after each faked death, or do they live in the open.
Also we need to figure out what the world will look and feel like in 150 years.
As the ultras decompensate into psychosis, the CEO orders the researcher to be revived in order to find a cure. The CEO had the researcher’s lab notes decrypted and figured that the he was close if not successful in finding the missing component to stabilize the LET.
Tiberius Syndrome: the decline into cruel psychosis experienced by the ultras, named after the roman emperor Tiberius’ degenerate behavior after he sequestered himself on Capri.
The ironic twist might be that there is no cure, no stabilization. The psychosis is not the result of the LET alone, but also due in part to the unfettered ego/wills of the ultras. Absolute power corrupts…
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a brazilian hacking syndicate was subcontracted by a st petersberg crew to run interference on a hit on SWIFT, the global currency clearinghouse notification network. The UniFavela clan was going to run a multi-flank raid. They specialized in fast propagating virii and had created a custom mail-in virus that exploited a few microsoft vulnerabilities that they had discovered and kept mum. Their target was a Latin American PR spokesman listed on the corporate web site for press queries. The PR flak would be just the sleepy guard on the wall for their virus to slip past. 30 minutes after opening an inocuous spoofed email from a French e-trade publication requesting clarification on the SWIFT-Indentrus partnership. the virus would port scan and map its entire site LAN, salmoning its way up the router paths till it found the deep waters of the main corporate campus network in Brussels. Shortly, the internal LAN at Brussels would be suffering switch and router buffer overflows and traffic would gasp, ack, and sputter. UniFavela would then towel whip out a vanilla DDOS on the main company web site, any INTERNIC-registered addresses, and any other system in the IP block reserved for SWIFT that had previously port scanned as interesting, or ,even, as nothing. Mongols charging the village gates and tossing flaming torches on thatched roofs. IT Operations would be running to and fro, trying to figure out the internal bandwidth crunch and if there was a bleedout causing the external net problems.
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The Post-Human Story of Minos:
the CEO of a powerful commercial combine is bore an illegitimate son by his indiscreet wife in retaliation for his own dalliances. the son has a hideous deformity but is fantastically brilliant - brilliant enough for the father overcome his own repulsion of the child - as a bastard and a freak. the father sequesters the child in an elaborate virtual domain. the child, a hacker savant, is used to breach competitor nets. but as his power in the digital realm expands, the child transforms into the tyrant-monster. using the nets, he lashes out at people who have caused him pain, then evolves into enjoying the taste of terror and fear. He becomes the Minotaur.
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'there was a mad scramble amongst all the big spook governments, dark side corporations, and the privacy maccabees once it was determined that quantum computation had left the tidal pool of academia, grown legs and air-breathing lungs, and was headed for the nat sec intel highlands. all previous encryption models were rendered obsolete, and worse, exposed. QC became an undefiable xray spotlight, laying bare any encrypted secret with a ease of opening a mathematical candy wrapper. And for a while it swung the advantage back to the state in the digital Boer War against the freecon partisans.'
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The Oort, to the Intras, looked as one people. Extra-stellar hillbillies, ekeing out a subsistance existence on extracted organics from the frozen crud comets and other planetesimals of the Oort Cloud that slung around the solar system in a 1K AU circuit. To the Oort there was no Oort. Each station, each kampong was distinct and seperate. Seperate dialects, traditions, norms, goals. Some were scientific collectives, some were tired mining operations, some were intense sectarian cults - they shared little between themselves beyond necessary trade links for scarce commodities.
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A young prince is disgraced in an internal court scandal and sent into a quasi-exile on a worthless mission. On his travels he builds the wisdom and learns the skills necessary to be a just and effective leader.
His exile was a gambit by his patriarch to remove Genji from the arena of pointless court intrigues and develop him as a real leader. The patriarch dispatched a team of loyal praetorians to discreetly follow and protect Genji on his odyssey.
Genji was sent as an emissary to the Oort system. He must pass through the Martian-Saturnine corridor, populated with industrial trading guilds and their private militias.
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Genealogy becomes paramount in a closed culture; hierarchy by heredity. Reference the roman patrician class’ death-grip obsession with lineage, or the medieval Japanese imperial court’s strict intra-elite caste system.
But in an era of extreme genetic engineering, how can bloodlines retain their importance? Perhaps this is the wrong question. Perhaps in an era of extreme genetic engineering, authentic bloodlines can only retain their importance. The longevity of an unchanged gene line demonstrates success in evolutionary competition. Over time however, the fitness of a rigidly enforced and ‘sequestered’ gene line will degrade. Consider the hemophilia of the European royal strata.
I would not want the imperial court of the inner system to be pure blue bloods, eschewing genetic manipulation. Rather I would have them take the opposite tack – and embrace genetic engineering in the pursuit of perfecting particular socially valued or distinctive attributes; a roman nose, elongated refined fingers, even the possession of certain ‘noble’ afflictions (for ex., the aforementioned hemophilia as a sign of noble lineage).
The elites should pursue genealogy with the same passion and gusto as horse breeders; studs and mares and percentages of bloodlines, enforced and suppressed gene expressions, surrogates, and gene modes des saisons.
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a bum finds a the wallet and keys of a man who jumped from a bridge
he goes to his townhouse to find something to eat or steal
is impressed and overwhelmed with the man's townhouse
showers, eats, gets cleaned up, finds some clothes
is ready to leave when he helps a woman wrestling with groceries at her door
she thanks him, but looks stunned.
‘are you the man in #560? umm..i have lived here for 3 years and have never actually seen you. you seem to leave so early in the morning and get
home so late and keep to yourself.’
they spend 30 minutes talking, having a generally warm friendly encounter.
‘well, I am so glad to have finally met you. Hope to see you soon.’ As she closes her door, the bum turns to leave but pauses and thinks for a moment, then goes back into the man's townhouse
he pours through the man's papers and keepsakes and learns that the man has no family that he speaks with, no friends, lives off a well-endowed trust fund
and
the bum moves in and takes over the mans identity
he brings warmth and sincerity to the man's identity
what makes a hermit tick? what lengths do they go to to remove themselves from society? does it become a game to avoid contact, trying to become a shadow, a phantom? does society dissolve away as a mental force in their thoughts, atrophy away or does it become an amputated impression?
what divsion line stands between a hermit and convict in solitary? the hermit, by and large, chooses their isolation, the convict has it enforced upon them. at what point does the human need for society or socialization collapse? is there anything left that we can inspect and evaluate? a hermit, however, is able to maintain walls against the Great Other, which would imply that they are seeking refuge from the world. a schizo or an autistic will be physically surrounded by others but unable or incapable of making contact.
when does the will to contact die? what is left over? do humans require contact to retain our humanity? can you love and sacrifice in a vacuum?
what defines humanity? oooh, a big question...
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genetic engineering will continue to deconstruct the human species
there will be catastrophic disasters: gene sequence specific viruses engineered to attack 'types' of people. Der Genkampf
petroleum will be replaced- hydrogen-powered locomotion and green power (in the wealthy states). the poor states will continue to be held hostage to oil politics
(cultures and civilizations do not move forward uneringly. they spasticly jerk forward and fro, in clumps andgrains, never ever as a lemming death drive.)
developed economies will be netized. a new state structure will be needed to manage and dsitribute resources. the corporate structure, the commercial backbone of the capitalist democracy, will replace the republic. it is flexible to markets and political forces, insistent on accountability, it provides a sufficient compromise between individual representation and republican government. they will begin their political evolution as projects in community development. assurances of an educated workforce by charter education. assurances of uninterrupted utilities by running their own power/water etc. net-based marketplaces create corporate agoras. employees are in fact de facto citizens of the corporation. citizenship, or regular employment, will be a reward for merit, stock shares will count towards suffrage.
great corporate collectives will arise. housing, education, security...all the needs of the middle class will be absorbed in the corporate state. the tradtional state will cede roles and responsibilities to the corporate state as their resources dwindle. a few isolated violent reactions (military or legal)by the republics against the corporate states, but they will fail over time. against, or more so, in conjunction with the homogenized corporatsists wil be the diasporae, non-corporates will glom to other modes of networked alignment, ethnic allegiance will become stronger over time - as the chinese, indian, and jewish disporaestrengthen as a formula for a successful competition against/with the corporates.
the american state, succored by its overwhelming techo-military supremancy, loses its mission, its vision - substitutes will to dominate for will to excel - and falls into the deep narcotic, insulated slumber of the unassailable. GE, nano, and the banknote net weaken the mythic cohesion of the american spirit. we are no longer united by common experience (mass-mediated or otherwise) the promise of science to make us stronger, smarter, near immortal is held like a manifest destiny or a divine IOU for services rendered to humanity.
Had to make sure I got one of me and my parents....because without them there would be no 365 of me. :)
*On a side note, I'm much taller than my parents than it appears in this picture. They're pretty short. I'm squatting down for the picture because I wasn't sure if my head was going to be out of the frame. :D
*On a side side note, I finally got to use my Gorilla Pod. I set it up on the kitchen counter and set the camera on timer.
just more goofing with the lights.
plus I watched LOST last night.
Various screen shots from the show.
On a day of high winds and not much sun, a break in the clouds around 15.40 coincided with 45407 and support coach returning to Carnforth. Following in section behind was 4S57 with its colourful consist.
I merged the two images to simulate a steam hauled split load ‘liner’ working … something different or as Susan just said "Thomas has been sent out to bring the naughty wagons back"
Created for Mixmaster Challenge 11 - Fictitious Halloween magazine cover:
www.flickr.com/groups/artisticmanipulation/discuss/721576...
and
Vivid Art group 'Vivid Tricks'
www.flickr.com/groups/2817915@N22/discuss/72157673378570541/
Land shot at 1.16pm in the daytime 12 months ago (Canon 5D mkii, Rokinon 10-24)... lol
Moon shot on little Olympus E-PL3 last month.
Been home crook a few days this week... SORRY !!!!
Ever since growing up, we have all heard and retold the stories the centered around the fabled and infamous woman known as the Route 22 Lady. As the story goes, no one knew who she really was though rumours abounded by the plenty. A homeless bag lady looking for a place to go to a deranged killer looking for fresh meat to put in her stew, no one really knew. And as the stories were retold around Halloween and camp outs and backyard gatherings, it came to no one's mind that we really never ever saw her, it was always the friend of a cousin of the boyfriend of the room mates sister she dating who was involved always with the sighting. Yes, we never stopped telling the story as we put ourselves into it, describing the horrors and misdeeds carried on by her.
Well one day as I was riding the bus on Rt 22, I spied what i think is the Rt. 22 lady. I took a quick picture thru the dirty window of the boss while see looked at the sign with a look that sent shivers down my spine. I got off at the next stop and backtracked to see if it was her. I kept my distance as she walked down the street which was part of Rt. 22 and watched as she begged for sticky sweet candy from strangers and made noises that sounded like excitement when see saw something old and rusted. But what frightened me the most was when she would see an abandon chair in a field or by the street. The drool would start to form in the corners of her mouth as she would talk to herself in a giddy schoolgirl like fashion, posing the chair to take pictures of it. I watched her that day for a couple of hours doing that before i knew I had had enough. I left that day and still have trouble sleeping as I see her in my dreams rearranging chairs and taking pics. Yes, I that was the Route 22 Lady!
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In the year 2018.
My new product idea. I can't imagine that every school shouldn't want one in every hallway. NRA endorsement pending.
Tonight I'm posting the finished manipulated caricature of Brazilian Novelist Paulo Coelho. The original image was taken by Photographer Marcos Borges (www.facebook.com/pages/Marcos-Borges-Photography/23048460...) from Odense, Denmark. Marcos has plans to take the image to Mr. Coelho and get it autographed...actually 2 copies, one for each of us. I like guy's features. He was a lot of fun. One of the few that went real fast. The original source image is on the blog post.
www.rwpike.blogspot.com/2012/03/brazilian-novelist-paulo-...
He’s got his beady eye on her, but maybe she’s not a Hobgoblin drinker…
Spoof advert presumably painted for Halloween, artist not known. Brick Lane, East London.
There's a long story with this rubber pig.
I've had it for about 30 years.
It was a dentist prize, from my childhood dentist, Marvin Berman of Skokie, Illinois.
So we named it "Dr. Berman's Pig". That's the only name it's ever had.
For all the years I've had this thing, I've tortured my brother with its presence: taunting him with it, sending him post cards from it, bringing it with me to Chicago when I visit. Holding it close to his face then snatching it away, just out of reach.
It is guaranteed to drive him NUTS!
"Gimme that PIG!" he'll yell.
It's a game we play.
When I stood to give a toast at my brother's wedding, the pig joined me at the podium.
After explaining the history of the pig to everyone I said, "And of course Dr. Berman's Pig wouldn't have missed the chance to be here to wish you congratulations on your wedding, Jim." The pig got a huge laugh from the crowd.
I'll be headed to Chicago this month for a short visit, and felt the need to announce Dr. Berman's Pig would be joining me, as part of his "2010 World Tour".
This is a potential spoof advert based on Richard Branson's desire to be the first to fly fare passengers to the moon, though I dont think he is planning on using one of these (Boeing 747-400).
This is the original version:
This was a shoot for a spoof product called "My Little Body Armor," conceived by the college-student daughter of a good friend of mine. The student, Jessica Soss, made the vests herself and we used one of my daughters and two grandchildren for models.
There are many phrases of the form 'an X short of a Y'. These all mean the same thing, that is, the person being spoken of is stupid or crazy.
'A sandwich short of a picnic' is fairly recent. The first citation of it that has been documented is from the BBC's Lenny Henry Christmas Special, December 1987. In that, Henry performed I'm Mad, a spoof song and dance routine written by Kim Fuller and others. This aped Michael Jackson's 1983 hit Bad. Henry, in a straitjacket, sings 'I'm mad, I'm mad', while the backing vocalists sing:
He's mad, mad, one brick short of a load
He's mad, mad, one sandwich short of a picnic
This sandwich picture is inspired by Piet Mondriaan a Dutch painter and theoretician who is known for being one of the pioneers of 20th-century abstract art, as he changed his artistic direction from figurative painting to an increasingly abstract style, until he reached a point where his artistic vocabulary was reduced to simple geometric elements.
We're here visiting Sandwiched
Doris Day Images and Rare Prints by Leo Fuchs (c) 1978 available at the Helios Gallery (www.theheliosgallery.com)
especially when the giver of tea happens to be mad.
soooo thank you for everyone thats been keeping updated! to all who asked about how the new camera is- i am positively STOKED. it feel completely surreal still, like it isnt mine. but i'm slowly growing into it. i am in love.
and yes, we made that dress in about 2 minuets out of a blanket pillowcase and belt.
18/365
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