"A collection of Gaelic proverbs and familiar phrases : based on Macintosh’s collection"

Look before you leap.

foto – hand saying stop 2009

Alright, here is the second part of the blog about signs. This will finish them up for this time at least until I find more that I can share with everyone. Have fun!

Please comment I would love the feedback

If it is not in use, then why is it there?

if there is a sign, is there not already a problem?

invisible what? People?

hahaha wow

where are we not supposed to swim?

where am I supposed to park my flying car?

what to say about this one...?

100...mph?

to..ease congestion?

keep left...when there is a huge hole there?

have fun with this one

hahaha wow

evil construction workers..

even though this is not a sign, it is still amazing

how do I get in?

better hope it is not to serious

I am glad they made it plain

watch out for those dangerous gravestones

All customer complaints should be taken care of this way

I hope they have a cell phone

Thanks to whoever made this bilboard

poor cockroaches...:(

what is this gate guarding?!

does this guy still have his job?

bummer, I wanted to cross when cars were moving

does the local trafic have flying cars?

only in America

but...I don't speak dog!

but I already gave my arm and leg last time I got gas!

can buggies go 55?

fine failure

2000 euros. C’est le montant du dépot de garantie (caution) que j’ai dû laisser à ma propriétaire parisienne en entrant dans son appartement. 3 ans plus tard, l’état des lieux de sortie est réalisé par un huissier, je mets 160 euros de ma poche -sans y être légalement obligé- et plus de nouvelles. Pas de restitution de ma caution ! J’envoie donc un premier courrier, au ton cordial (mais pas sympatique) à mon ex-propriétaire. Pas de réponse. Le même avec accusé de réception, toujours pas de réponse. Coups de fil, pareil.
Ok, il y avait des petits travaux à faire dans l’appartement : le montant d’une porte abimé, la peinture de la salle de bains très écaillée (forcément, l’isolation de la pièce est catastrophique et en plus de mes douches, il pleut tous les jours…). Mais pas de quoi claquer 2000 euros en rénovation. Faut pas abuser !

Prochaine étape: me rapprocher des conseillers juridiques de mon assurance habitation (MRH), dont le contrat est conclu avec ma banque (si, si, je centralise) avec qui je suis en bons termes (entre deux demandes de crédit…). Le but est de savoir quelles actions je dois mener pour forcer mon ancien propriétaire à me rendre ma caution, déduction faite des travaux réalisés.

Je vous tiendrais au courant… vive l’immobilier et ses petits tracas…

Hasty and adventurous schemes are at first view flattering, in execution difficult, and in the issue disastrous.

"The Cyclopaedia of Practical Quotations, English and Latin: With an Appendix Containing Proverbs …"

foto – izzy foreal with a box of vegies at murwillumbah 2008

Offering
Nightmare & Vision #17

My lover’s hands left my breasts and caressed their way down my chest and belly to start feeling their way through my bush. I leaned back into him and spread my legs. His long, strong fingers played with me, running over my mound, tickling my thighs, sliding up and down just to the sides of my mound. My breathing quickened, and I started whining and moving my hips to position myself under his fingers. He teased me for only a short while, though, and I arched and moaned as his massaged and then parted my labia. I was so hot and wet. When he dipped that first finger into my slit I positively gushed with pleasure. Other fingers lazily circled my clit. I convulsed every time a finger swiped across the little nub. I brought my own hands under his overreaching arms to my breasts, caressing myself, and let my head fall back on his shoulder.

I was in heaven. My widely splayed feet found purchase on the sides of the sofa, so that I could press back against his body or wiggle and thrust my pelvis up into his busy hands. His fingers tickled and spread me, rubbed me outside and dipped inside. He toyed with me, increasing my pleasure slowly, agonizingly, giving me just enough to get that much higher, that much more desperate for more. When I could feel the first tingles of my impending climax in my spine and belly, I jerkily humped up into his fingers, and savagely pulled and tweaked on my own nipples. I turned my head and found his mouth with mine in a burning kiss. The fingers of one hand spread my lower lips open, allowing those of his other hand to slide from the bottom to the top of my vagina to rub my clit in just the right way.

I gasped one last time, taking breath in for what I knew would be an earth-shattering orgasm. And then, just as the automatic clenching, relieving spasms of climax were about to hit me, a cock thrust into me.

The next second passed in slow motion yet took no time at all. My eyes flashed open and I broke my lover’s kiss, snapping my head around to see the grinning face of a stranger. I heard my shuddering sigh turn into a surprised grunt, then a confused wail. Even the smell changed as the colognes of my lover and the new interloper clashed. And the feeling… the fat shaft now planted in me throbbed, and my contracting pussy squeezed back with all it had as my orgasm crashed around me.

I came helplessly around the stranger’s cock. I couldn’t stop it. Spitted by his rod, I stared almost unseeing into his gaze. His eyes smiled unkindly at me. His grin turned lusty and his lids closed part way as my pussy clutched and milked him. I tried to say something, to protest, but the only sounds I could emit were indistinguishable cries of passion and betrayal. All I could to was cum. My lover’s fingers were still busy on my clit, his other hand stealing up to my breasts to take over from my own paralyzed fingers. His mouth nibbled my earlobe, cooing to me as if nothing were amiss. Lost in its climax, my body humped and ground itself against the hairy pelvis of the intruder. The orgasm, so long in coming, took forever, searing and ecstatic despite, maybe even because of the spoiling presence of the stranger and his fat hot cock.

Finally I started to subside. Anger and fear took over as my passion faded, and I brought my hands up to push the barrel chest away from me. My protests and objections finally became coherent as I cried for help and screamed at the stranger to get out of me. Instead of coming to my aid, however, my lover wrapped his arms around mine and drew them back, pinning them to my sides. With new confusion and rising panic, I saw and felt the stranger’s hands reach down to my waist and take hold of my hips. My increasingly desperate questions and demands ended with a shriek when the stranger drew his cock most of the way out of me and then slammed back in, the head of his member thumping up against my cervix. He began fucking me, slow and hard. I tried to say something, anything, but the words were driven from me each time the cock rammed home. I couldn’t catch my breath…

I would like to share one recent incident which i came across, please pass on the message as soon as u read this-

A 26-year old guy decided to have a cup of coffee. He took a cup of water and put it in the microwave to heat it up (something that he had done numerous times before).

I am not sure how long he set the timer for, but he wanted to bring the water to a boil. When the timer shut the oven off, he removed the cup from the oven. As he looked into the cup, he noted that the water was not boiling, but instantly the water in the cup ‘blew-up’ into his face.

The cup remained intact until he threw it out of his hand but all the water had flown out into his face due to the build up of energy. His whole face is blistered and he has 1st and 2nd degree burns to his face, which may leave scarring. He also may have lost partial sight in his left eye.. While at the hospital, the doctor who was attending to him stated that this is fairly common occurrence and water (alone) should never be heated in a microwave oven. If water is heated in this manner, something should be placed in the cup to diffuse the energy such as: a wooden stir stick, tea bag, etc. It is however a much safer choice to boil the water in a teakettle.

Micro waved water and other liquids do not always bubble when they reach the boiling point. They can actually get superheated and not bubble at all. The superheated liquid will bubble up out of the cup when it is moved or when something like a spoon or teabag is put into it. To prevent this from happening and causing injury, do not heat any liquid for more than two minutes per cup. After heating, let the cup stand in the microwave for thirty seconds before moving it or adding anything into it.

Caution! Teens in the vicinity! Parents proceed with caution!!

This is the “cone” in the “construction zone” that every parent must navigate who has teenagers. {sigh}

Caution! Coat hangers at play! This sign is posted near the entrance of a back alley so one might have to assume sometimes the botched abortions escape and have a tendency to run into traffic.

"A classified collection of Tamil proverbs"

The cat has nine lives: three for playing, three for straying, three for staying. English

ty http://www.inspirationfalls.com/playing-quotes/

foto – playground ulmarra 2009

"A classified collection of Tamil proverbs"

THE GATHERING LIGHT

ROBERT ADAMSON

Time whistles around us, an invisible
flood tide that I let go
while I take in what I have done.
It wasn’t a fight, I was drawn to this moment.
The physical world drains away
into a golden calm.

foto – hall stand with jug and bowl from kerrie nov 09

ty Australia – Poetry International Web

Another great caution sign for the collection. Be careful at Costco, or this could happen to you!

Deep waters noiseless are, and this we know. That chiding streams betray small depth below."  Herrick.

"Proverb lore; many sayings, wise or otherwise, on many subjects, gleaned from many sources"

foto – floods in ulmarra may 2009

Every man must skin his own skunk

"Proverb lore; many sayings, wise or otherwise, on many subjects, gleaned from many sources"

foto – loo near the river in bellingen 2008

"Remains concerning Britain"

It is hard to teach an old dog tricks.

foto – charlie in armidale nov 09.

Storage Device-Depolama Cihazı

Be awere of the new little storage device that has started to be used in common areas as internet cafes,airports,hotels etc. 

This device  is launched  between the keyboard cable,and computer keyboard input   which  copies all your keyboard entries.

Becareful in using computers in public areas,and check for this device for your safety.

*******

Yeni çıkan küçük depolama cihazı ,klavye kablonuz ile bilgisayar klavye girişi arasına takılıyor ve bilgisayarınızın klavyesin de yazdığınız tüm tuşları kayıt altına alıyor.

Çoğunlukla internet kafeler de , sergiler de , otel ve havaalanların da kullanılabiliyor.Özellikle bu tür yerlerde internet kullanımın da bankacılık işlemleri ya da diğer önemli sitelere girerken dikkatli olunuz.Zira bu  depolama cihazı yazmış olduğunuz tüm bilgileri kayıt edip,saklayabiliyor.

Kamusal alan da internet kullanmadan önce bu şekilde bir cihazın takılı olup olmadığını kontrol ediniz.

NOTE-NOT:

-Bilgi linkdeki grup tarafından hazırlanmıştır.Information  is afoot by    www.cozumpaylasimgrubu.tr.gg

-My thanks to dear friend who delivered  the info to me via mail .

-Bilgiyi bana mail ile ileten sayın arkadaşıma teşekkürler…

Ana Sayfa-Home

I’m going to do a best of the decade in late December, along with my best and worst of the year. However, as I’ve been useless recently, and Xi and Wolf have got their lists started I thought I’d chip in with my bottom of the decade list.  Which I feel I can do because I don’t think I’ll see anything worse than this lot before the year end.

This isn’t actually as easy as it sounds. Honestly. I had to narrow down a longlist from about 1000 pieces of absolute garbage. To be absolutely fair, I’m going to define the rules first:

1) These are all films without a single redeeming feature

2)These must be films that aren’t just bad but offensively awful and manage to piss me off in some way.

3)No more than one Superhero film can make it- I could quite easily have filled the list with about 10.

4)Only 1 of original and sequels can make it.

5No Platinum Dunes remakes. I could have filled the list with them

Anyhow, criteria defined- here we go. In reverse order:

Dishonourable Mentions:

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of The Crystal Skull, The Terminal, Van Helsing, Cabin Fever, Head Cheerleader Dead Cheerleader, Countless Superhero movies, Watchmen, Transformers, Matrix Sequels, Twilight, Scary Movie 2, Get Over It, The Sweetest Thing, The Last Kiss, Hannibal Rising, The Da Vinci Code, Poseiden, Oceans 12, Rob Schneider’s canon, The Cat in The Hat, Kill Bill 2, The Pirates of The Caribbean Sequels, Shrek 2 and 3, Swordfish,  The Heartbreak Kid, Battlefield Earth, anything with Eddie Murphy/ Martin Lawrence  in a fat suit.

*edit*

Since I wrote this I’ve been reminded of these other stinkers, that are actually worse than DM, but not quite bad enough to make it into the top 10:

Atrocious, but not quite top 10 level

13)9 Songs

Utter shit. Basically, just a slightly more explicit porno than Lust Caution. The reason it loses out to Ang Lee’s magnum snoozefest is that the chick in it shaves her armpits. Mediocre music combined with characters that aren’t so much ciphers as vacuums and the most explicit sex outside of hardcore porn.

To be honest, you’re better off putting on some music you actually like then watching hard core with the sound off.

12) Diary of the Dead

Romero proves Renton right once and for all: “You get old, you cannae hack it any more then you die”. All that’s left is for him to die.

Utterly dreadful, the central character is a complete cunt and he’s not alone. Romero needs to retire. However, like Xi, I’ve got battered wife syndrome with it, and will no doubt watch his next film.

11)Inland Empire

Unwatchable. Like putting your brain in a blender. As much fun as having your nipples electrocuted while some cunt asks for help with The Times crossword. By the end of this pretentious garbage you will be bleeding from the ears and your frontal lobe may have killed itself to relieve the pain.

The 10 Biggest Bags of Shit in the Last 10 Years

1o: Death Proof

Catastrophically dreadful. Completely boring. Totally useless. What the fuck was Tarantino thinking? This was billed as some kind of 70’s Grindhouse experience. It isn’t. What it is is hours and hours of boring self-indulgent women talking Tarantino (proving once again that he can’t write for women) before a ham fisted car chase. However, what makes this film a platinum stinker is that the climax of the film involves Kurt Russel crying.

Go and fuck yourself Quentin, you cunt. This is our Kurt, this is Snake Plissken, Macready, Jack Burton and you’ve made him cry. May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your arsehole.

Absolutely unforgivable.

9: Lust Caution

The film that finally confirmed to me that I just don’t like Ang Lee films. A UK critic coined the term “Boredom Porn” to describe it and he’s completely right. It redefines dull for an hour, then there’s some nasty sex between two unlikable twats for an hour. Then it ends.

Dreadful. If you want to watch two people fucking, watch porn. Strictly for people too embarrassed to purchase dirty films. Or for dwarves to small to reach the shelf with real porn on it.

8: 2 Days in Paris

Before Sunrise was wonderful. Before Sunset was even better. This is, however, atrocious. Someone told Julie Delpy that she had some talent for writing, so she rips off those 2 films wholesale. Except for one thing, one tiny, important detail: the characters in those 2 films weren’t complete and utter cunts. Boring exposition following 2 self-indulgent twats around Paris. Julie Delpy’s character in particular is such an obnoxious bitch that I’m amazed he didn’t dump her yonks before the break up at the end.

Seriously, she shows naked pictures of him to her parents. And expects him not to be upset. And as if that wasn’t insulting enough- it turns out this is a picture she takes of all her boyfriends. Cow.

Oh, and there are far too many gratuitous cock shots of Goldberg.

7: Hostel

A plague on torture porn. This is, in my opinion, the absolute worst of a genre that frequently rips up the bottom of the barrel and then burrows towards the Earth’s core. The whole plot is simple: unlikable assholes get tortured to death in Europe. It fails for several reasons but most importantly, that you just don’t care about the people getting tortured. Diabolically bad, relentlessly dull and proof positive that that terminally useless cunt Eli Roth couldn’t direct piss into a urinal without help.

6: Funny Games

Personally, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t like being told I’m a complete cunt for watching a film by the fucking director of said film. Boring rubbish with delusions of grandeur and a completely pointless remake to boot.

Did I mention that it’s the only film I’ve ever seen to tell me I’m a cunt during the film?

5: Attack of the Clones

There’s been so much written on the Star Wars prequels in general (fuck you Lucas you soulless cunt), and yes, it is true that they do suck and probably did interfere with everyone’s favourite childhood memories. This one however, manages to comfortably be the worst of the 3. There are so many different reasons that this film makes this list, but I’ve included it because it’s the only film that I have ever successfully got my money back from the cinema for. That’s how bad it is- I managed to get Camden Town Odeon to refund me after the film.

And no, the last half an hour of it is not good- unless Yoda bouncing around like a demented ping-pong ball floats your boat.

4: Shrooms

I ACTUALLY OWN THIS PIECE OF SHIT AND CAN’T BRING MYSELF TO THROW IT OUT.

I admit it. I fell for the tag line. I’m a complete and utter cunt.

Dismal, predictable, ridiculous, boring, stupid, annoying, badly written, worse direction and just not scary. For some inexplicable reason they do a “hallucinogen cam” that just induced a migraine in me. If you can’t work out who the killer is within three seconds of turning it on then you should be banned from watching horror films.

Luckily, I saw this after OUTLANDER (motherfuckers), because if I hadn’t then the presence of Jack Huston in Outlander may have stopped me from seeing it. And that would have been tragic.

And now for the top 3 hall of shame:

3: Spider-Man 3

The presence of this film here in absolutely no way validates Superman Returns.

Ouch. This is the 21st Century equivalent of Batman and Robin. To be absolutely honest, it was a toss-up between this and Superman Returns for this spot, but this gets the honour for the following reasons:

1)Dunst sings. Twice

2)Tobey Maguire struts his funky stuff.

3)Tobey Maguire dances.

4)Sandman kills Uncle Ben (nb- I usually don’t give a fuck about abusing funny-book canon, but this was daft)

5)Plotholes you could park the QE2 in.

6)Sympathetic villain that wasn’t sympathetic.

7)Far too much crying.

8)Incomprehensible final fight scene with annoying cut away to reporter telling us what’s going on, as clearly we don’t want to see it in a film called Spider-Man 3. No, we came for the song and dance numbers.

9)For some inexplicable reason Spidey fights a Power Ranger.

10)Butler with the power of Wikipedia who only exists to explain the whole plot to Harry.

I could go on and on with this, but you get the idea. Raimi just clearly didn’t give a toss, and I suspect that it was that massive cunt Arad’s fault for shoe-horning Venom in.

Spider-man 3 is just a shit film, and very, very nearly a franchise killer.

2: Sex and the City

This is actually a contender for number one. Not just a bad film but a truly dreadful effort that reeks of cash in. Who in their right mind wants to follow 4 horrid self-indulgent cows in their various and terminally boring adventures.  Not to mention the fact that the damned thing is over 150 minutes. This film is nothing short of offensive- every male character, bar one that gets appallingly treated by slut in chief, is a complete cunt and don’t get me started on the women.

Bear in mind that nothing of any interest to man or beast happens in that time.

Mrs. Jarv, in a moment of weakness that got her Lovefilm privileges removed for 6 months rented this. Even she admitted it was shit.

1: Alien v Predator: Requiem

Fuck me. Where to begin?

How about this- setting it on Earth in the present day. Or what about the fact that some cunt forgot to turn the lights on when they were shooting? There isn’t a redeeming feature to this fetid pile of garbage.

However, the real reason it’s number 1 in the Hall of Infamy is: The Predalien

Who in their right mind thought this piece of depressing fanboy wankery was a good idea? Who? Tell me, and I’ll feed them their own entrails.

A bad idea, poorly executed and even were the rest of the film as good as Alien (which it isn’t) then this would still be enough to make it the worst film of the last ten years.

However, when you add this little touch to the aforementioned poor effort, then you get what I think is the worst film for the last 20 years.

Alien v Predator: Requiem is a film so bad that it makes Uwe Boll look like Stanley Kubrick.

If anyone wants to give me more suggestions, then I’ll gladly expand this- it’s fun to do and I can summon up some real hatred for a lot of these films.

Cheers

Jarv

]]> http://recessionworld.wordpress.com/2009/11/16/mps-caution-on-eu-banking-reform/ Mon, 16 Nov 2009 13:08:52 +0000 w7075news http://recessionworld.wordpress.com/2009/11/16/mps-caution-on-eu-banking-reform/

Plans for pan-European regulation of the financial system are being rushed through and could end up as a "muddle", MPs warns…. From BBC News. Full story

This site may contain information about: recession depression. For a different topic see easy cake recipes. The blog is also related to: united states recessions.

Bait and Switch
Nightmare & Vision #85

We had waited so long to make love; I was as eager as my groom to consummate our marriage. We were all over each other in the limo to the hotel. My white dress was so voluminous, Robert could barely caress my legs, but I felt all buttery inside, and my lace panties were soaked. Even before the honeymoon suite door closed, I wiggled out of his arms and we were shedding clothes. He finished first and leapt for me. I yelped in surprise and glee falling back on the bed under him.

My gaze travelled down from Robert’s face, and I gasped as my eyes fell upon his privates for the first time. His was the first erect penis I’d ever seen ‘in the flesh’, and part of my gasp was of apprehension at its sheer size. But oh, God, I wanted him. With veil still in place, blouse ripped open, and white stockings still on, I slowly spread my legs and beckoned him to me. He came without hesitation. In one swift motion, Robert moved up and plunged into my virgin sex, tearing through my hymen and burying his penis balls-deep inside me.

I cried out in momentary pain and then drew breath at the sensation of utter fullness. I gasped and gritted my teeth as he pulled nearly completely out and shoved fully back in. Then again, and again. The pain quickly evaporated into bliss as I pleasured the way nature intended for the first time. We kissed deeply as he thrust into me over and over, and I closed my eyes to relish the incredible sensations. I moaned and cried out my love between more guttural sounds. The wedding had been carefully timed. We’d planned on starting a family right away and I had hoped and had prayed to conceive our first child on our wedding bed. We stood the best chance possible tonight.

These thoughts gave me butterflies in my tummy that began to spread all over as I neared orgasm. I was in utter heaven. My body, by instinct, humped up to Robert as he made love to… fucked me. The butterflies enveloped me, and I tingled and arched from head to toe as the storm of climax took over. My inner muscles clamped down and squeezed my groom’s throbbing penis. I cried out, overwhelmed with pleasure. Then I opened my eyes with love and lust and looked up, wanting him to see me in bliss and glory as we made new life.

What I saw turned my next orgasmic scream into a wail of terror.

Red eyes bored into mine from a twisted, sharp face that only vaguely resembled my Robert’s. Two leathery wings sprouted from his back, beating the air savagely as he plowed into my spasming body. I tried to raise my arms to push him away, but his taloned hands pinned my wrists to the bed. I screamed again and again, but horrifyingly, the sounds contained unmistakable pleasure mixed with anguish.

My body was still cumming around the demonic cock! I couldn’t stop myself!

Then, the first hot gush of inhuman semen erupted inside me, and with one final thrust he slammed fully into me, his howl of triumph matching mine of despair. Spurt after spurt of his seed injected deep into my newly opened, fully ripe body, and I knew with terrible certainty I was conceiving (but dear God what?!) at that very moment. And still, my pussy continued to milk and grind into the jetting organ, my body’s pleasure continuing unabated.

My tears of joy-turned-agony stained the wedding bed as the terrible head lowered – as if to kiss me once again. I turned away in fear and shame, still trembling with shocks of pleasure and revulsion. A long, thin tongue flicked across my ear, and a low, hissing voice spoke words I knew were at the same time true and horribly false:

“Your prayers have been answered.”

True glory takes root, and even spreads; all false pretences, like flowers, fall to the ground; nor can any counterfeit last long.
Marcus Tullius Cicero

foto – flower in coldstream street nov 09

One of my guilty pleasures in life is finding ridiculous caution signs. Here are a few from a day trip to L.A. earlier this year.

There is a quote from H. L. Mencken that reads, “Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin to slit throats.” Since first reading it, I’ve been struck by those words and have remembered them. Every normal man must sometimes want to throw caution to the wind and be a pirate, it says, to slit throats with abandon and claim the spoils regardless of consequence. It is tempting. But I also read a deeper meaning in it. A rallying cry, a warning, a call-to-arms. There comes a time, these words say, when every man will have to take action, make a stand, and risk everything to fight for what they value or else lose it to another’s plundering.

I’ve never read that line in its original context. Those sentiments may not be remotely near what the author intended when writing it. But a learned man once told me that what we see on our own is more important than what we are told to see. You can be taught to see more, to see better, he said, but never fully trust what you are told. So Mr. Mencken will have to pardon my conclusions; they are mine alone.

Hoist the black flag, he said. Slit throats. To war, then, and to the victor goes the spoils. It strikes me that much of American society is already busy at pirating, or was until the Big Bust of 2008. Wanting a large payoff from a smaller, somewhat riskier investment seemed to be the prevailing modus operandi. Flip houses. Flip cars. Flip companies. Trust Bernie with your money. Cheat (but slyly) on your taxes. In fact, cheat at anything if you think you won’t get caught. Score as much credit as possible. Buy things you can’t afford with someone else’s money. Lie and steal from your government, your employer, your family, your fellow man. Anything for the almighty dollar.

If you were in construction, you threw together as many buildings as possible and waited for fat profits to roll in, and who cares about the structural integrity of those houses and business spaces. So what if the floor joists won’t last five years, and the basement leaks if so much as a dog takes a whizz two doors down, and the wallboard emits poisonous gas? Sorry, buddy, you were dumb enough to sail into my harbor and your throat just got slit. Thanks for the booty. Besides, that’s what homeowner’s insurance is for.

If you were in insurance you issued thousands of policies that were useless and refused to pay claims, slitting more throats and raking in treasure chests of booty. Your house burnt? Oh, so sorry, we won’t pay for anything damaged by smoke or water or heat or any wall left standing. Tell you what, we’ll give you this month’s mortgage payment plus an extra $50. We’re feeling very generous today. A hurricane you say? Your house flooded? Oh how awful. But no, sorry, we don’t pay off on damages from storm surge. Nope, it’s not a flood, it’s a wave, and we don’t cover that. Sorry. Don’t forget, your next payment is due in two weeks. Bye bye now.

And of course there were still the usual rackets of car sales, internet companies, Wall Street, and, well, anything run by the government. Anything to make another dollar, and the less honest the better. Hey, that’s the new American Dream: getting something for nothing. From the world’s largest corporation to grade schoolers, everyone’s playing pirate.

But someone somewhere is losing. Someone is watching their house or car or savings or future circle the drain when that newest chest is drug on board the winning ship and its golden contents are revealed. With a pirate on every side wondering how they can get their hands on it next.

So what does this have to do with Mencken’s quote? I think the deeper meaning behind it says you have to be your own pirate, be prepared to fight for anything you want, and if you really want it you can’t let others stand in your way. If keeping your job means someone else goes unemployed, so be it. If keeping your house means another family goes homeless, that’s something you’ll just have to face. It is, in a way, Darwin’s evolution in action. No one ever wrote a treatise on the survival of the nicest.

The sad fact of life on this planet is that not everyone will have what they want, and many will not have what they need. And to have anything at all, you will have to fight for it. We do not live in a global utopian society, and if you do not take it you will likely die waiting for it to be given to you.

That goes for liberty as much as for anything else. If you do not fight for your freedoms, you can hardly expect anyone to grace you with them out of the goodness of their heart. Governments, for instance, were not constructed out of goodness but out of fear and desire … even our own illustrious “city on a hill.” It’s nice to stand safely on the sidelines and speak of pacifism and conscientious objections, but in reality they don’t work. At some point, the theory breaks down. Even one man sitting alone in the middle of a garden will have to fight if he wants to eat, fight weeds and animals and drought and frost. Idealism has yet to feed a hungry belly.

I think Mencken’s words reveal that life is simply one fight after another, and if you want to do more than simply survive, you’ll have to do so at someone else’s expense. Is your life more important than someone else’s? Is someone else’s life more important than yours? How can anyone possibly know? So hoist your flag, brandish your sword and pistol, and let the blood run.

"Miscellaneous essays and addresses. Also biographical note and bibliography"

A wise old owl sat on an oak; The more he saw the less he spoke; The less he spoke the more he heard; Why aren’t we like that wise old bird?

Edward Hersey Richards

foto – ulmarra oct 2009 bird lovers – the Poms.