the corruption of untruths

 

Sitting in the semi dark, listening to the gusting wind, looking at mistakes, mine and those of others. Mistakes like renting instead of buying, thus making funds available to sample life in different hemispheres, on a number of trans world adventures, with maybe more to come.

A no brainer, evidently.

Wondering about greed, and where it takes us. A former footballer turned pundit signing a BBC contract worth almost 2 million a year, while the government abolishes free TV licences for those whom need it most. Can that even be true? Living away from greedy for 14 years I must rely on the media which in itself is polluted with the corruption of untruths.

Depending of course on your political leanings, and the truth you believe.

Speaking of which, how do you rate Boris and his Broadcasting Corporation? A powerpoint equation now swamped with COVID 19 problemitas and not just the illness, but economy and now of education. I suspect he is sinking in his personal mire, although like all good Tories his money and his moneyed pals will pull him out of the mess he´s made.

Although I doubt if he cares, despite his platitudes, just another greedy person.

Maybe the gusting wind will blow away my doubts, and even my no brainer opinions.

Maybe not.

SNOB

 

I have been saddened by an opinion.

Evidently I´m a snob, or rather the way I write, attempting to use my mother tongue eloquently, using multi syllables to describe what I see, feel, and where I am.

This annoys.

And worse is to come as I now stumble around a second language, oh no!!!

Reminds me of my brush with comprehensive education, where during the first years of secondary school, academic and non academic children were all in one classroom where alumnos, destined for no more than milk runs or manual labour Oooops there it is again.often held back the young minds whom were going to do more with their future existence.

Afraid to put your hand up to answer a question in class, I can still hear the hissing, whispered, threatening voices. -I´m gonna get you efter the bell, you´d better run- etc etc, elaborated of course with a variety of expletives.

So imagine my sadness when I discovered this kind of situation survives in adulthood, and worse, amongst intelligent and accomplished individuals.

The dullards don´t count.

Crimes by keyboard

 

My fingers drift across the keyboard, digits seeking solace, fingers nervous amongst the forest of opportunity. An alphabet aching to be set free from, the mundane.

But critics are waiting, You didnae write that, did yae? Did yae? Naw ye didnae! Importing the venacular.

Whits the venacular?

The defence rests.

Observations on a Caleta landscape

 Ting a ling (from the archives)

toot toot

The Caleta version of the Wally Trolley makes its town centre stop....

ting a ling

toot toot

I’m people watching plumb in the middle of the bauble proffering tourist trap, which is gaudy in extremis. Only last night’s detritus and today’s broken neon’s give the merest hint of a decaying future, but they don`t really count.

Do they?

the people have spoken. the people want.

Don’t they?

This temporary community of holiday humanity cross the square and each other’s paths with equal anonymity.

Some buzz in and out of retail heaven, bees collecting honey for the hive, sweetly packaged by tempting designer labels, such lies handed down as alms from the controlling class. Others merely window graze visually digesting and mentally storing for a last day shopping glut which will impress the back home Jones`s.

A push chair pushing couple push past, heralded by bickering discontent. One family addition in situ and another on the way. The sum total of trapped hangs on the faces of a union only just begun. This package holiday break serving merely to compound a painful yet common brand of unhappiness.

I want to play guess the nationality, but find no challenge…..English and yet more English with not even a Scottish brogue to waft along the airwaves and give a little equilibrium. Guessing the area is similarly facile. Manchester, Manchester….and Manchester. It’s a no Teutonic Saturday.

My forearms are now medium rare to medium as the afternoon sun sucks away any remaining oxygen and begins to baste unprotected flesh. Of course I should know better, so why is that first kiss of sunstroke so tempting?

Ting a ling

Toot toot

All aboard.

FUERTENEWS.COM

lights

 

The chaos arriving at you door tells us September is here.

 

Stating the obvious, I am aware, however just how aware are we with what is happening to our planet? The Boris Broadcastig Corporation tells us truth we can believe. Obviously.

Continuing conflicts in various corners of the globe, politicians fanning the flames, but why?

Initially I thought that the digital age where everyone and anyone can be a reporter would help clarity and avoid manipulation of the truth, I am no longer so sure.

Why is it that an incident on the street, any incident on any street, has passers by reaching for their mobile video phones? To TWEET? Rather than help...

What is wrong with you?

Where have the thinkers gone?

It appears that to be intelligent can attract jealousy, thus is it better we all remain dullards? Is this is herd immunity? (sic)

So many questions, no answers.

Wake me when its over..No, wait, don´t bother, I´m better of dreaming.