Hell&related Stuff

I'm really fascinated by this whole cyber self thing and am going to run with this.

I've a photo blog site:
www.flickr.com/photos/dennypoos and am going to set up a myspace and youtube site.

There must be folk out there who have done this already, and I'd like some feedback if at all poss.

Some complimentary site addresses would be welcome.

Cheers my lovers.

Dennypoos xxxx

....for most of my photos now as there's just not enough room for the damned torrent that is my creative outpouring.

You can find me,(or not if you can't be arsed) at;

www.flickr.com/photos/dennypoos/

........radio four telling me that there was a potential environmental problem in Alaska.

It would appear that shedloads of oil has been found in an area of Alaska that is designated as one of the last wilderness areas in North America.

Persons of a green persuasion will be sandal skidding on their stripped pine floors, spilling their Meusli and Yoghurt in the rush to phone the media in a fusilade of outraged appoplectic outpourings.

Teeth will be gnashed.

Hair will be pulled by the handful.

All to no avail because the one thing I can be certain of is that the good old U.S. of A. will have that oil out of the ground come what may.

"Aint no A,rab gonna hold the U.S. of A. hostage no sir"

In truth we are told that the tax revenue is just about the only way many services can be provided for the inhabitants and that the reality is that only one group of indians will be affected by possible interference to the migration of Carribou herds.

Oilmen 1. Environment 0.

It's a no-brainer

... that global warming, if there is such a thing, has meant that the seasons, spring in particular, start earlier. In Blighty it seems eight days earlier.

No probs, excepting that many species reproductive habits are aligned to the availability of food for the offspring and as such can be royally fucked if the two don't coincide.

Thankfully this will be of minor concern only to blogging buddies who upon leaving their Garret or Pied de Terre to fill up on munchies (twixt shag) find that the local supermarket has yet to fall prey to climatic variations.

Climatic variations should cause us all concern if only insomuch as the impending Bank holliday weekend may fall foul of this phenomena.

No! twisted readers, falling foul as in not pissing down the whole time. What do you mean, it is I who am twisted, not a bit of it.
I want precipitation of fucking biblical proportions. I am, yes adorable Dennypoos, the one who wants it to rain on your parade, if parade be your bag, man.
The reason for this is Bank Holidays. Can't stand 'em. Can't see the point of 'em.

Bank Holidays are, to me, being unemployed/able just another day.
Moreover another day telling me that the folk with jobs are having a little thank you for not being a burden on society and such.

Bah Humbug! or as I like to put it....

SOAPY TIT WANK!

....Pluto.

Not the animated dog but the Planet.

Now it seems, a planet no longer.

Thought I'd be smart and see if this was reflected in wikipedia's entry and boy oh boy they talk of little else.

Just tried a different way of uploading which hasn't really worked for me. Back to the old ways.

Ah thats fixed it.

Something seems amiss with the new header, I've gone all pixilated.

Just how long is this ceasefire going to last when all the info I've read seems to indicate that this agreement may be likened unto a Rab C Nesbit vest.

Perhaps we should cut to the chase and just let the Americans and Syrians get on with it.
The thought of sending our boys to be bomb fodder for the Israeli aif force doesn't please me one little bit.

DMZ my arse.

Thats much more me than the other load of old bollocks.

.... as mentioned in the title.

.

Nothing on the tele so I've been tarting around with old pictures, as you see.

Well, thats all done and dusted then and no doubt we are allpleased with our one gold medal? But wait, thats just not so. I distinctly rember ssing that a Mr Weir won a gold in the wheelchair 1500 mtrs way before the relay.

Talking of which and talking of storms in teacups, the furore over the inclusion of Dwayne Chambers by Darren Campbell is one spit of the dummy too far. Campbell had never tested positive for any kind of drug ever. He came clean and admitted drug enhancement, for which I for one think he should be applauded. He served a two year ban from the sport and is now back in athletics. One wonders how many other athletes would do likewise?

The other thing that has bridled me is that we Brits are so good at losing. I know, I know, we've had lots of practice but the constant steam of athletes being interviewed beaming happy, happy smiley faces and then telling us they were well pleased with their performance (which was not a personal best nor a seasons best, nor abest of any kind) beggared belief.
When I was in sport and had lost I would not be a happy bunny, indeed I would be looking for a cat to kick, or a referee or whatever. We lose too easily.
I do wonder if Lottery funding isn't making our lot soft. I also wonder if Norwich Union , who are funding the sport to the tune of £50 million, know what they have bought.

Todays musical offering is a liittle ditty from KEB MO.

So listen up y'all.

Until Monday, Ch'row.

Am I wrong or is this a little excessive for breakfast?

It all started with the best of intentions. Cereal and some fruit gathered from the Loony woman next door's garden.

Well bugger me, ran out of milk. A little thinking on my feet reminded me that I still had some homemade scones in the Fridge, and so Jammy scones, freshly picked fruit, a dollop of Fromage Frais (no man boobs for me) and we were away. MMM delish,,, though lacking something. A large portion (easy) of local ice cream and the jobs a good'un.

Seems reasonable to me.

Am I the only one getting a little jaded with Nick Hornby?

I ask this as I have just finished reading, A long Way Down.
This latest book is in a way a four way journal belonging to four characters who meet on top of a Tower Block with the aim of jumping, life having dealt them a bum hand.

The alternating, four way narrative does at least have the benefit of a time line but this writerly artifice continues to gnaw at my sensibilities throughout.

Despite all the music references and nods to modern ,like y'know like speech, it fails to convince me. I am not however one of the endless number of critics who think that here we have the new or indeed the new 'old' Amis.

Previous offerings have been better than this and no doubt later ones will be too.

I move on to my next book after posting this being as I am in the Library.

...like to know that Warren Zevon, apart from appearing in my last posting was also to be found on the soundtrack to The Colour of Money . You could have blown me down with a feather when I heard Werewolves of London playing over the speakers in the Pool Hall when Newman came to get dick brained Cruise out of the place.

Gosh! The things you didn't know.

.... not really likely bed fellows but Warren Zevon gets them all together in this little ditty.

It's something for the weekend.

... know was that a transplanted heart will start beating on its own, after being suffused with blood.

Now I always thought that it needed the old jump leads to give it a kick start, but no.

Apparently the Heart has a rudimentary 'Brain' insomuch as it has neurones, (brain cells) and that this go's some way to explaining curious phenomena exhibited by transplant patients. If you saw the prog last night this will all make sense.

Funny the things you took for granted that turn out to be not so.

..well not actually in the physical sense, more the golly gosh; the post continues apace.

Now that I can record the tele to my hard drive, there has amassed a number of 'worthwhile' films which I needed to view. One of these was 'Chariots of Fire'. So I watched it and it was Ok if a little preachy in the subtext.

What fascinated me was that the executive producer, (the guy who looks after the money) was ......Dodi Fayed. Knock me down with a feather guvnor and other expressions.*

* For those who have recently arrived from another planet Dodi was the person fucking and feeding Princess Diana, she being the new Mother Teresa, albeit with bulemea and a tendency to shag her way around the Med until she got her just deserts being driven by a pissed up smackhead into a stanchion in 'Gay Paris'

I'm assuming that beloved son Dodi was looking after Daddies money and that Al Fayed was using this jingoistic film to further his "I'm the only true Brit in the country, give me a British passport you bastards" campaign.

Funny the things you didn't know, innit?

I'm going to post some pictures on Flickr today.

Are they any good? Flickr I meant not the pictures and if not, which is the best site to show stuff on?

Flummoxed in Freemantle.

Photograph.

Photograph.