Yeah. Love the plumes.
Okay. I like my back yard. You don’t? Bet you do.
And btw fuck Putin. Crazy queer czar. But I have a view of my yard Charlie Rose doesn’t.
Dreaming
A Deerhound Diary
Being the observations of a retired Scottish blogger by a lord of Scots
You have a lovely yard.
And WTF is the NYT doing publishing a former KGB officer?
(We can’t have lovely yards in Texas, because it hasn’t rained here in four years…)
Definitely a place made for dreaming.
Bad news is your backyard needs wire and Claymores. Good news is you have a warrior hound, loyal and deadly. Recommendation: augment HQ security with something more than than a WWI side arm. Sadly, all I can say. Too old to pretend.
Aye, fuck putin. I am completely baffled by the O-haters, the Assad lovers, all the 2-D fuckwits, picking up and running with this guy’s b.s.
Did they all forget this guy is the overlord of a place that was for the past 100 years the quintessence of a statist’s wet dream?
RF, what is it to be drawn inexorably toward something? As opposed to being compelled to achieve. What is it to arrive somewhere and see predestination in it? In the arrival one sees both incontrovertible and inescapable facts. Facts emerge. Details are known.
But without the trouble of thinking there is no stitch in time. What is a stitch? A stitch is known. What is time? Nothing that can be shown apart from stitching.
Let’s stitch a wound; a stitch in time saves nine.
War. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L90smU0SOcQ