The world itself is the will to power - and nothing else! And you yourself are the will to power

The world itself is the will to power - and nothing else! And you yourself are the will to power - and nothing else!

A two for one deal today. I couldn't resist posting this one. I have mused quite a bit on young Henry's dictatorial tendencies, and this image today gave rise to thought that perhaps Ezra will join the totalitarian tot in his approach. Look at that stern gaze, that stiff arm salute. He could be anything. Even the scantest knowledge of recent history will tell you that it is a worrying sign.

People ask me what it is like to have a couple of little potential Übermenschen here, and I reply that it is best to always be on my guard. As one of the ruling elite in the household, I am always on the lookout for potential coups, and the evidence thus far indicates that it seems to be in both of these fellow's blood. Power-sharing agreements might buy me some time, but how long?

Comments

Anonymous said…

OMG that baby seems to know very well what he wants :-)

21 August 2008 at 00:29

ut si said…

v funny post!

21 August 2008 at 12:03

Jim Klenke said…

You are doomed.

21 August 2008 at 12:27

USelaine said…

I'm won over by the seed-stitch trim on his sweater. He had me at heil-o.

22 August 2008 at 18:51

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

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

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

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