Category: Chips on Shoulders
And another thing
Mayor Boris has proved his proletarian potential by giving his goodwife a ride behind him on his bike.
But the only acceptable second seat on a bike is the croggy – or for the posh lot, the cross bar. The lady is then safely embraced and close enough for canoodling. Ladies’ bikes are useless for the purpose of course, which explains why modern females ride fellas’ bikes.
My pic shows Boris offering a couple of ladies a ride.
Yes, I know what I said……
But some news can’t be allowed to pass without comment.
At last a gubmint has found the stones to do what has been crying out for attention for decades.
Supernaturalists use their ‘faith’ to ‘justify’ everything from female genital mutilation to polygamy and the cruel slaughter of animals for food. Frankly I don’t care about their weird practices in general but I care very much when there are innocent victims, either human or animal who/which are given no choice in the matter.
Hurray for commonsense and b*gger the protestors! Yes, you too, rabbi!
The Wattage Two Day Cure for all Ailments
It’s true, doesn’t matter if it is lumbago, rheumatism, arthritis, sciatica or a bout of the gout this is guaranteed to cure the lot in two days.
Firewood, cut it, split it, stack it on the woodpile.
There are three trees worth here, a Hickory, an Oak and a Maple, all hardwoods, probably totaling about three cords when cut and stacked, seasoned it should weigh about six tons, wet as it is it probably weighs twice that. The big stuff with the dark heartwood is the hickory. Bitternut is the variety that grows around here and it is very heavy wood, and one of the best in terms of heat content for firewood.
Continue reading “The Wattage Two Day Cure for all Ailments”
Living With Huns VII: Equal in Germany.
When I was young and lived in Germany my life was generally okay. I was popular and had friends. Everyone in the neighbourhood knew me, everyone who worked at school knew me. Some thought I was strange, but most liked me. My mother didn’t have much money. Despite being nominally married, my parents had had a schism several years before resulting in my mum returning to Germany. She was attending university with the aim of becoming a haematologist. My grandmamma agreed to mind me when she was away or too busy with her studies. My grandfather enjoyed slapping me around after a bad day, but that was typical of what was to come.
Nous suivons Charlie
We recently had the Siege of Martin Place, eventually resolved by the swift execution of the Muslim nutter after he murdered two innocent hostages. We don’t muck about in Australia, given half a chance.
I didn’t post about this atrocity, mainly because I didn’t want to (tolerantly) endure any comments from misguided Charioteers who still believe that all the thousands of gruesome deaths around the world at the hands of Muslims have nothing to do with the cult of Islam, and that “most Muslims are nice people . . .” .
Like hell they are!
Now we’ve had the Charlie Hebdo killings in Paris, and again I wasn’t going to post until I heard one of our left-wing, bleeding heart, ABC TV presenters say, ” . . . but we must ask ourselves why we should want to publish cartoons that offend our nice Muslim friends . . . “. One of the others actually agreed with her – although I was encouraged that the third responded with “because we’ve been offending people with funny cartoons for centuries. It’s part of our culture.” or words to that effect.
After hearing that, I thought it might be a good idea for the Chariot to show a little positive support for Charlie, for Le Canard Enchaîné, for Private Eye, and for the multitude of other satirical publications which refuse to bow to the demands of religious gangsters of any persuasion.
Islam, its brainwashed adherents and its deluded apologists must be eradicated for the sake of a sane world where free-speech and inter-personal kindness and tolerance go hand-in-hand.
Innit?
Sir Criced
When I told my good friend, the pastoral poet Mr B Keeper, that the theme for this month’s poetry competition was animals he said that he will immediately compose one for this special occasion. This is what Poet Laureates do, he claimed. With his kind permission I bring to you his offering. Naturally, this work is ineligible for the competition. After all, Mr B Keeper is a professional poet. Continue reading “Sir Criced”
The first idea is sometimes the best.
Returning from our boat trip in late last Summer, I only half seriously suggested we should take the boat to the Bahamas for the winter.
Well one thing led to another and the idea was shelved for 2013. The winter here has been brutal, record cold and record snow, another 8 inches overnight.
To this worker in the wilderness that trip does not seem quite so crazy today.
Choose Life
My good pals, Google, are now in the business of curing diseases. Project Calico’s goal is to expand human life expectancy. This slowing of the anti-aging process is an ambitious undertaking but there‘s easier ways of fighting death.
Me, I’m going to follow Hob Gadling’s philosophy on life. “The only reason people die is because everyone does it. You all just go along with it. It’s rubbish, death. It’s stupid. I don’t want nothing to do with it.” Hob said that in 1389 and I was only talking to him the other day where he said. “Death is a mug’s game”. So that’s all there is to it, as another immortal is known to say.
Even Boney had ’em
Moles, I mean.
Boadicea's Chariot 
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