Captive Audience
She played the guitar all lunchtime. She played jazz. It might have been several songs or it might have been one really long one with a few pauses for missing notes. It didn't look as if her efforts were appreciated too much by the passersby who gave her a wide berth; the important thing was that she was happy. Or sad. Or indifferent. No, the important thing was that she was in whatever mood best suited her jazz music song. Or songs. I don't get jazz. For #WindowWednesday and for #WeLoveMusicWednesday curated by +Folletto Folletto +Andy Q. +LaDonna Pride +Harmony Goodson Google+: View post on...
Escape
There's a dreadful amount of trafficking in animals in Chichester; it's something that the police seem powerless to prevent or, just perhaps, they've given up caring. But some of us still care. We work in secret for fear of reprisals and we vary our methods to stay one step ahead of the traffickers. You spot a gerbil smuggler and you might bump against him clumsily, exhaling alcohol fumes facewards for good measure; he's irritated and pushes you away and you gladly go because that gerbil's in your pocket now and you've just handed off a replacement in the form of something that some dog owner previously wrapped up and disposed of in a nice, red bin. Or you see some thugs brazenly pushing a narwhal into the back of a van and you decide to give them the horn they seem so desperate for with a seductive belly dance while your colleague frees the captive creature unseen. Or, like today, you distract a courier with a Bluetooth message from across the street offering free leopards with every coffee at Starbucks giving just enough time by a convenient ledge for the abducted horselet to climb out and make his escape. Run little horselet! Run for your life! But it never ends and tomorrow you'll probably do it all again. Google+: View post on...
Honey, Superbugs, and Bullshit
Just the other day I saw someone post a link to a site called RiseEarth and to an article in particular titled Mysterious Honey Discovered That Kills All Bacteria Scientists Throw At It. Being someone with something of a scientific mind this attracted my attention immediately; a natural ingredient, I thought, that can kill all known bacteria. Could it be? Or even bee? Yes, I think puns in my head. But, even as I thought those three words “could it be?” a simultaneous thought – since I’m also someone with a skeptical mind – also raised a hand, waved a little for attention, and spoke up: not bloody likely. So, to the article about bacteria-killing honey then! Australian researchers have been astonished to discover a cure-all right under their noses — a honey sold in health food shops as a natural medicine. Oh dear. Health food shops. Immediate red flag. Maybe it’s okay, maybe it’s still genuine. Far from being an obscure health food with dubious healing qualities, new research has shown the honey kills every type of bacteria scientists have thrown at it, including the antibiotic-resistant ‘superbugs’ plaguing hospitals and killing patients around the world. That’s better. That’s certainly alleviating some concerns. Because my initial thought was that this actually was an obscure health food with dubious healing qualities. But apparently it isn’t. Good, good. Assuming I take it at its word, which I don’t, but let’s carry on. Professor [Dee] Carter’s two sons, Marty, 8 and Nicky, 6, think it’s funny the way their mother puts honey on their sores. But she swears by it, telling stories of how quickly it cures any infection. […] The curative properties of various types of honey have been known to indigenous cultures for thousands of years, and dressing wounds with honey was common before the advent of antibiotics. Uh oh. On the one hand that’s a real professor (see (not much bee research going on there, though)). On the other hand backing up the scientific claim with one sentence about kids relating to their mother’s way of treating wounds and another talking about remedies from antiquity… ooh, that’s another, massive red flag. At this point I was distracted by some of the other articles on the RiseEarth website. These articles include: Area 51 Builds Massive Alien Pyramid Illuminati Occult Symbolism in London’s Olympic Closing Ceremony How Hemp Oil Cures Cancer And Why No One Knows If you were a manufacturer of red flags then right now you’d be doing a roaring trade as I’d be buying up all your stock. I don’t think I need to fully explain why it’s...
Dance Triple
A weekend without a trio of music videos would be, well, pretty typical for most weekends. But occasionally I remember. And today I also remembered first starting to appreciate dance music. Appreciate may be too big a word. Tolerate is better. I’d always been one of those “agh, that’s not real music” sorts of people but things started to change when I got my first NoiseTracker program for the Amiga and realised that I too could produce music that was repetitive and not very good. That’s the sort of thing that makes you start to defend the tripe that appeared on TV in and charts. And copy it when possible. Copy, and improve. Only replace “improve” with that word that means the opposite of “improve”. I’m waffling when I could be putting up three music videos from that golden age of dance music: the early 1990s. Nightcrawlers – Push The Feeling On I had a bit of a thing for the redhead. I’m sure I wasn’t alone. Livin’ Joy – Dreamer Bomb The Bass – Bug Powder...
Entropy
You are witness to the moments before a terrible mistake. It's not his hat, although that is a terrible mistake too. Nor is it the contents of his roll, although cheese is the Devil's food and will be banned in the new world order. No, it is that one should never sit half in the sun and half out of the sun while eating. Do you know the Klingon proverb "Energy spontaneously disperses from being localised to becoming spread out if it is not hindered from doing so, p'tak!" (their proverbs need a little work)? Energy – more localised in the gentleman's upper half on account of that supplied by the sun's radiation and the roll's cheesy matter – was spreading out into the gentleman's lower half with every bite, every chew, and every swallow. The lower half, of course, could only absorb so much spreading energy, conducting a little away through the skin of the legs and feet but not enough to counter the flow. We are humans. We are aware of where in our lower extremities there are natural outlets. I would say that he farted but it would not do the moment justice. I was, instead, reminded of viewing film of V2 rockets taking off during the second world war. Of his body there was no sign but half of his roll remained on the pavement for just as long as it takes startled seagulls to recover their composure. A terrible mistake. #StreetPics curated by +Arnold Goodway +Pablo Luis Gonzalez +Monika Pia +urszula masilela +Dragos Ioneanu #StreetPhotography curated by +Tatiana Parmeeva #StreetSaturday Google+: View post on...
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