Evil Gnome Stalks Town For Next Victim!

I am sure by now that you have all come across the tale of the evil gnome that is terrorising the Argentinian province of Salta. If not, The Sun (UK) has more, although I am not sure if the video of the creepy little person gives me the willies as much as the appalling grammar in their coverage!

If The Sun doesn't rock your boat, KUTV in Utah has even more.

Now Jennifer has assured me that she saw no evil gnomes during her year in Tucuman, and certainly not on her trip to Salta. She did see a few llamas (or maybe alpacas, she can't tell them apart), but alas, no terror gnomes.

But back to the story, at the end of the video clip on the Sun Website, one of the boys unleashes a rather girlish scream. Another teenager, or perhaps the same one, was apparently so scared he had to go to the hospital. No wonder they lost the Falklands War so quickly, no backbone! IT'S A MIDGET IN A DUNCE'S CAP!!!!

Oh, and now he has his own website: Terrorgnome.com. Although the answer may be more sinister, if you ask me.

My verdict?

¡Viva el mal poco hombre!

Comments

Jes said…

good gawd, thats creepy! i dont care if it IS a giant gnome, a human midget or Brian Peppers... Any of them would frikken freak me out if I saw them shuffle out of the bushes like that! And that scream at the end... its so afraid it made me feel sick.

25 March 2008 at 00:08

Kris McCracken said…

I think that he just needs a hug.

25 March 2008 at 05:51

Ineke said…

lol, no wonder they lost the falkland war.

14 July 2008 at 04:16

Petrea Burchard said…

Poor little guy, he really just needs a better hat. It's the hat that's scary.

18 July 2008 at 15:01

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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