16 Photographs

I have picked out 16 photographs which still make me ponder now on the cruelty, beauty and horror of us and our Planet.

Mushroom Cloud    1945

This photo is the first test by the Americans in Socorro, New Mexico, the birth of the most devastating weapon us humans have ever produced  and which would 3 weeks later be dropped on a Japan City, Hiroshima and killed 140,000 people and another 3 days later on another one in Nagasaki killing another 80,000.
Today there are nine nations with nuclear weapons and today's versions are all over 3,000 times more powerful than the ones dropped on Japan.
In a nuclear war, nobody wins, everybody loses and the last thing we would see is this Mushroom Cloud which sums up the ultimate madness and folly that we have reached, to almost quote Sun Tzu, a madman will burn the World to the ground to rule over the ashes and after a nuclear war, ashes is all that would remain.

Special Guest Blogger: Miguel de Cervantes

I was just a regular guy in Madrid trying not to get stabbed so that naturally ended with me stabbing someone but it started in 1569. I was young, I had two working hands and I possessed that dangerous cocktail of pride and boredom that usually leads to a courtroom appearance. I got into a bit of a disagreement with a gentleman named Antonio de Sigura. In my defense, the guy was asking for it. In the law’s defense, puncturing a man with a sword is generally frowned upon.
A warrant was issued for my arrest, and the punishment was having my right hand cut off and being exiled for ten years. Now, as someone who planned to write for a living, the cutting off the hand part felt like a bit of a professional setback. So, I did what any rational, brave Spaniard would do and ran for the border like a man whose pants were on fire.
I ended up in Italy and for anyone fleeing the law, Italy is great. The pasta is excellent, and everyone is too busy arguing about art to notice a fugitive writer in the corner.
By 1571, I decided that since I couldn't be a civilian without being arrested, I’d become a hero and joined the navy. Specifically, I fought in the Battle of Lepanto against the Ottoman Empire.
I was sick with a fever on the day of the battle, shaking like a leaf in a Mediterranean gale. My captain told me to stay in bed. I told him I’d rather die fighting than stay tucked in like a lapdog. It sounded very poetic at the time but then I got shot. Twice in the chest, once in the left hand.
The result? I spent six months in a hospital in Sicily and walked away with a useless left hand that functioned only as a paperweight.
After five years of playing soldier, I was finally heading home to Spain in 1575 with letters of recommendation from Don John of Austria himself. I was basically carrying the ultimate Get Out of Jail Free card.
As my ship, El Sol, neared the Spanish coast, we were jumped by Barbary pirates. My luck, as usual, was functioning at a sub-zero level because I was carrying those fancy letters of recommendation, the pirates thought I was a high-ranking aristocrat. They thought, Jackpot! This guy’s ransom will buy us a new fleet and several islands.
They took me to Algiers. My ransom was set at 500 gold escudos. My family, God bless them, didn't have 500 gold escudos. They didn't have five gold escudos but they did have some goats and a lot of prayer. So, I spent the next five years as a slave.
Now, some people would accept their fate but not me, and over the next five years, I orchestrated no fewer than five escape attempts, one of which included trying to walk to a nearby Spanish Town Oran but getting lost and after three days walking back to prison.
Finally, in 1580, the Trinitarian friars managed to scrape together enough money to buy me back. I returned to Spain at the age of 33, broke, disabled, and with five years of kidnapping trauma under my belt. Naturally, I decided the best thing to do was get a job in government administration as a tax man but it turned out I was much better at getting shot than I am at accounting.
I was eventually thrown into prison (again) for irregularities in my accounts but it was there that i hit upon the idea of writing a novel about a nobleman who reads too many books and decides he’s a knight-errant. People think Don Quixote is a satire of chivalry but mostly, it’s a reflection of my life.
I published Part One in 1605. I was 58 years old. In the 1600s, being 58 was the equivalent of being 112 today but the book became a sensation. It was translated into multiple languages and I became famous across Europe.
And do you know how much money I made? Almost none. I sold the rights for a flat fee because I needed to buy bread. While everyone was laughing at my knight and his squire, I was still struggling to pay my rent. Then, some douchebag named Avellaneda wrote a fake sequel to my book while I was still working on Part Two.
I had to write Part Two just to spite him. It’s arguably better than the first one, mostly because I spent half the book making fun of the guy who tried to rip me off.
I died in 1616, on the same date as that Shakespeare fellow in England (though we used different calendars, so don't get pedantic with me). I left this world with no money, one working hand, and a story about a crazy guy on a skinny horse but as Don Quixote himself said: 'Fortune may have yet a better success in reserve for you, and they who lose today may win tomorrow' but I maybe should have added Or the day after. Or several decades after they're dead. Either way, keep tilting at those windmills. 

No More Dumpster Donny

The Trump administration has called using cruel nicknames for Donald Trump as inappropriate and i agree, it is childish and really not becoming for adults to take a trait of a person and use it as a nickname to belittle them.
So sure Trump has that weird Orange coloured skin but do we really need to call him a Mango Muppet, Melon Maniac, Agent Orange or the Tangerine Toddler? Even worse when the name calling also includes his fascist tendencies in such names as the Mango Musolini,Napoleon Bonaspur, The Tangerine Tyrant, Combover Calligula, Apricot Adolf, Trumpoleon or the Grapefruit Gaddafi.  
I despair when i see nicknames about his morbid obesity, true the guy is very very overweight but do we really need to go to Hippopotus, Fattyshack, Cankles McTacotits or Humpty Trumpty?
Not being able to open his mouth without a lie coming out could be an illness so  Lie-a-tollah, The Lyin' King and Uncle Scam could be making fun of his disability as is SpongeBlob Shartpants, Shitler, Diaper Don and Baron von Shitzinpantz, the guy has no control over his bowels, give him a break!!
His history of being unfaithful to his wives as well as a sex offender and almost certainly a pedophile also come in for some stick in names such as Dopey Mcgropey, Fondling Father, Cheetolini, Pumpkin McPornhumper and the Tangerine Tot Toucher but i say enough, let's be grown up about this and stop the name calling and give the Commander in Thief a break .  

16 Photographs

I have picked out 16 photographs which still make me ponder now on the cruelty, beauty and horror of us and our Planet. 

 Lepa Radic        1943

The 1st and 2nd World Wars showed just how inhumane we can be to each other on a massive scale and there are plenty of photographs which show it in stark horror but this one, the first in a series which ends with the limp, lifeless body of 17 year old Lepa Svetozara Radic hanging from her makeshift gallows, always struck me as particularly chilling.
Don't know if it her passive face while she awaited her fate as the guard affixes the noose or the story behind it where after weeks of torture in an attempt to extract information, she was offered her life in return for the names of her Yugoslavian resistance movement comrades but she refused and repeated that she was not a traitor and apparently her last words were: 'I will be killed, but there are those who will avenge me'.

A Guide To The Top 5 Alien Types

There may be two types of people in this World, those that believe in Aliens and those who don't but for those who have seen them there are five basic types,  The Greys, The Nordics, Tall Whites, Reptilians and Insectoids.  
Astrophysicist, Dr. Eric Davis, has collated what people claim say they saw and The Greys is the most common, short humanoids with grey skin and large black eyes and apparently are not shy about inserting probes in places where probes should not be inserted unless by a medical professional.
The second most common are the Nordics who are described as tall and almost human in appearance with blue-eyes and blonde hair and can communicate with us  telepathically unlike the third most 'seen' alien who are the Tall Whites who stand over six feet tall with pale white skin, bald heads, and light blue or green eyes.
Less common are the Reptilians who are said to be humanoid creatures that stand upright, but have reptile-like skin asnd the fifth most sighted alien which is the Insectoids who look a bit like praying mantises, if praying mantises could stand and were about six to nine feet tall and wear robes and jewels as well.
There you go then but it is all obviously very useless if you are being pursued by a Grey skinned alien waving a probe around it's head or a walking praying mantis in a robe but no need to make them even more angry by getting their classification wrong, that's just poor manners.

16 Photographs

Us humans are capable of creating things of immense beauty as well of being capable of depraved cruelty to each other and create inventions which can immeasurably improve all our lives as well as invent horrific weapons to wipe out millions of souls in the blink of an eye.  
Photographs possess a silent power that offers a poignant portal into moments forever suspended that do not merely document the past but provoke profound contemplation by confronting us with the fragility of human existence, the weight of historical choices, and the capturing both immense tragedy and quiet hope.
I have picked out 16 photographs which still make me ponder now on the cruelty, beauty and horror of us and our Planet.

Xmas Day 1914

I have often wondered what would happen if two armies facing each other said no, we are not going to fight each other and just laid down their guns and got together for a game of football instead.
This picture from 1914 shows exactly when that did happen and the German and British armies got together in No Mans Land on Christmas Day, sang some carols, shared beer and cigarettes and had a game of football.   
Reports and photographs of these unofficial ceasefires reached the papers back home and the military authorities declared that  informal truces with the enemy were to cease and any officer or non-commissioned officer found to have initiated one would be tried by Court Martial with harsh punishment for any man caught refusing to fight.
The small truces of 1914 never happened again but amidst the bloody and horrific slaughter, a rare glimpse of human kindness.

Special Guest Blogger: Hulk Hogan

Alright, brother, let me tell ya something! You know, when you’ve been slamming giants, inspiring millions of Hulkamaniacs, and generally just being the greatest American hero to ever tie a bandana, a life lived at 110 decibels. And let me tell you, when you’ve lived the life of Hulk Hogan, there’s a lot
to unpack. It’s like a gym bag full of sweaty bandanas, old championship belts and a few questionable supplements from the 80s,  you know, just vitamins.
First things first, the fans, the Hulkamaniacs! Bless their patriotic little hearts. Without you, I’d just be Terry Bollea, a guy with a magnificent mustache and an even more magnificent tan, probably selling insurance in Tampa. But with you I became a living, breathing, bicep flexing embodiment of the American dream! I taught kids to say their prayers, take their vitamins, and believe in themselves. And by vitamins, again, I mean… well, it was the 80s, dude. Things were different.
And speaking of prayers, my spiritual journey, brother, has been just as wild as my wrestling career. From the moment I stepped into that ring, I knew there was a higher power guiding my leg drops. God, you see, he’s always been in my corner, even when I was powerbombing people through tables,
which, let’s be honest, probably wasn’t exactly what the good Lord had in mind. But hey, it was for entertainment! And I always thanked Him for the victory, even if I had to cheat a little to get it. Sometimes, God works in mysterious ways, brother.
But life ain't all sunshine and bandanas, dude. There have been a few speed bumps, moments when the spotlight shines a little too bright, and maybe catches you in a moment you’d rather forget. Like when you’re caught on camera in a sex tape with my best friend's wife saying things you absolutely, positively should not be saying about my daughter sleeping with a black man and liberally using the 'N' word to embellish my point of view. . Woof, brother. That was a rough patch. Not my finest hour, not my finest minute, honestly.
It made me realize that even a superhero like me, a man who could bodyslam the world, could still stumble. And when you stumble in front of a billion people, man, it creates a crater. But you know what? Even craters can fill with water and become beautiful lakes… eventually. It was a learning experience, a humbling moment that made me reflect on a lot of things. And it taught me that even the biggest, strongest, most tanned dude in the world has to be accountable, brother. And hey, I owned it, I apologized, and I came back stronger, with a renewed sense of purpose. That’s what Hulkamania is all about, right? Falling down, and then getting back up, picking up a microphone, and telling everyone you're still the greatest of all time!
And speaking of political aspirations, remember when I threw my bandana in the ring, not for a championship belt, but for the Vice Presidency? Oh, yeah! I told my good buddy Donald Trump, 'I'm your guy'  He’s a smart dude, that Trump, he chose Mike Pence but he probably just didn’t want me
overshadowing him with my sheer charisma and larger-than-life presence. Can’t blame him, brother.
I was the dude who brought wrestling into the mainstream, a man who wore a feather boa and sunglasses indoors like it was totally normal but it's all about fighting for what you believe in, even if what you believe in is occasionally controversial and racist.
It’s about that fire in your belly, that desire to win, that feeling that you can accomplish anything if you just train hard, say your prayers, and, well, maybe take a few more of those special vitamins than the average person.

New Stuff And Old Stuff

The wonderful Brain Cox was on TV and stated that nothing is new and even the atoms making up our bodies have been other things before over the course of life on Earth so our arm may contain part of a plant that the first fish trod on as it left the Ocean and our left ear could contain some of the water which our tree dwelling ancestor peed out over a squirrel which is now in our little toe.  
All very mind bending i know to consider that we could be breathing in oxygen and drinking water that dinosaurs and ancient plants used millions of years ago but such is the circle of life that we eat plants and animals and their atoms become our bones, blood, and skin and when these atoms which make us will go back into the soil and air when we die to become new plants, animals or even part of a motorway pillar at some point in the far future.
He also said that at some point around 900,000 years ago 98.7% of the human population got wiped out due to extreme climate changes, severe droughts and dropping temperatures in Africa which caused extensive loss of vegetation and a sharp decline in the grazing animals that early humans relied on for survival, leaving just around 1,280 breeding individuals to keep us going and it took millennia before we got going again so while some species bounce back, others don’t, but we’re probably the first ones endangered because we did and then stupidly stuffed up the air, water and ground we need to live.  
All this got me thinking, if nothing is actually new and things are made from previous things why do we have a problem with waste because everything that goes to make more stuff is made from the other stuff we dug out from the ground such as coal which is a fossil fuel which means setting fire to dinosaurs.
With recycling we convert the raw materials of old into new stuff but there is still a good proportion of new things that we have to dispose of but if nothing is extra to what we started with, so why is the new stuff not being used to fill the holes we made digging out the stuff to make it.
We must have massive holes all over the place we can fill and the new stuff isn't going to weigh more or occupy more space than what we started with because it is the same stuff but then maybe my Cerebral Cortex is part made from atoms which were once a Conker Tree because i'm obviously missing something here.

Healey U Turn

When John Healey resigned as defence secretary in a blaze of righteous fury, he grandly declared that a cast-iron commitment to spend 3% of GDP on defence was the absolute minimum required to keep Britain safe in a perilous world.
Less than three months on, and now Chancellor under Andy Burnham where he is in control of the nation’s purse strings, he doesn't seem quite so keen on throwing billions more at the Department to spend on warfare and his first budget in October, he is to defer the target of spending 3% of GDP on defence to a later date 'due to fiscal constraints'.
Strange how being responsible for finding and distributing the money to all of the Government departments means that he won't be upping the military spending he was so desperate for a few weeks ago which led him to resign in disgust when it wasn't forthcoming from the former Chancellor, Rachel Reeves.
Maybe, with a budget already of £65.4 billion to spend, he didn't really need the money after all because once he was in the position to give it and deemed absolutely necessary, he hasn't.

Leaving On A Jet Plane

It seems that Donald Trump will not be confirmed as a pedophile until he is out of office by which time America will realise that many places and things in America will have the name of a notorious child sex offender on their buildings and rapidly change them such as the Palm Beach International Airport which has been renamed the President Donald J. Trump International Airport and given the three letter International airport code DJT.
You can now fly from Holguin in Cuba to Florida and your ticket will say HOG DJT or go from Florida to Gaya International Airport and your ticket will say DJT GAY.
Many long haul flights have stop overs so for example if you go from Palm Beach and stop off Sioux City and land at Kokkolain in Finland your ticket would state DJT SUX KOK.
For our holidays this year we are going on a whistle stop tour of the globe so we are starting off in Antsiranana, Madagascar and then it's on to Fresno California and over the Pacific to Fukishama in Japan and then down to Pendopo Airport in Talang Gudang Indonesia and then finally over to West Palm Beach Florida which is a lot on one ticket, DIE FAT FUK PDO DJT.
Going to be a long trip but should be good.