Friday, December 05, 2008

A Pook is Here

Death needs time for what it kills to grow in.*



With thanks to the Doubtful Egg who posted this on Master Flann's birthday which is probably why I'd have felt reminded of Sweeney when the Pook appeared sitting in the tree.


Note:
Similarities to persons living or dead is purely incidental.
Those feeling offended are meant. :)

CPJ's 2008 prison census

Reflecting the rising influence of online reporting and commentary, more Internet journalists are jailed worldwide today than journalists working in any other medium. In its annual census of imprisoned journalists, released today*, the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) found that 45 percent of all media workers jailed worldwide are bloggers, Web-based reporters, or online editors. Online journalists represent the largest professional category for the first time in CPJ's prison census. Full article here.


* tomorrow this 'today' will have become the day before yesterday. :)

Spy in the sky

The German military commissioned its first spy-in-the-sky satellite system on Thursday, Dec. 4 enabling it to peek through clouds or the darkness of night at any spot on the planet.
Continue here.


Wow, somehow I feel safer now.
The peace of the night.

Monsanto-soybeans for Monsanto-pigs

It was a small step for the EU, but a great one for the bosses of Monsanto on their 'mission' to win the global food monopoly.

Good night, and good luck!


Tuesday, December 02, 2008

Top of the pops

It's never too late to talk about potatoes, isn't it? :) Thus, as anounced only eleven days ago, here some pics and but a few words.

As already mentioned, this year I felt I ought to be a bit worried. :)

Seriously, digging was a pleasure, not only for our cat which was ...

... meticuously supervising ...

and with Argus-eyes kept guard.

The potatoes, too, had their fun.

Drinking

Talking


Sunbathing


Dozing


On an even more serious note: Although we had planted only ten short rows (5
rows with 'early', 5 with 'late' potatoes', at the end we had carried around four hundredweights into the cellar. Marvellous potatoes many of which would not been sold in supermarkets, as their shape's considered political incorrect - and thus they are (somehow) illegal, the more as they don't contain of the average pesticides-level.
Anyway, I can assure you: despite all these flaws they do taste delicious. :)

Monday, December 01, 2008

XIX by Daffyd ap Gwilym

Miserable poet, fear filling him, harrassed and stumbling. Dark is the night on the cold bog. Dark - O God a torch! Dark over all, how shall I come out alive? Dark - great madness grips me! Dark now is the treacherous bog, dark the growth of the moon. Miserable man, that the sun, the good sun, is hidden. Dark it is for me, a poet, shut out with all my fame in dark and bitter winds outside. And if I were found here in the one land that hates me, bared to the guile and treachery of strangers, how should I and the gray horse escape?

Worse though, if I were caught, drowned in the bog-hole as I went with my horse in the mud at the bottom of the bog, after all the reverence I have had. Who can escape the bog-hole filled with the fishes of Gwynn of the Mist, a pit between crag and moor, place of ghosts and of their children, a lake of vinegar and bloody waves where swine wash?

I ruined my good Carnarvon stockings
on this wrong road, I do not know why, except ill-luck, my horse and I fell in the bog-hole. The cold first overcame the lout, then was he heated as he dug and scrambled out. So now I am come to land, and can freely give the bog my blessing.