So there I was, arm hooked up to the machine, watching my plasma swirl away into a bag while the morning news dribbled across the screen like a bad fever dream. And what were they showing? A "riot" in Melbourne, allegedly. The sort of riot where the real thugs wear body armour, carry pepper spray and look like they just walked off the set of RoboCop. The people they were beating? A ragtag crew of teenagers and old hippies—probably fresh out of a drum circle, still smelling of patchouli. But sure, let's call it a riot. Now, here's where it really gets good. I mentioned this spectacle to a few people later, thinking maybe they'd share my outrage or, at the very least, give a damn. But no. What did I get instead? A smirk, a chuckle, and—oh, the pièce de résistance—"You should really just let it go." Let it go? Yeah, let me uncork a nice, overpriced cup of coffee, sit back with my legs crossed, and soak in the latest reality TV trash. Why bother caring when ...
Comments
But I wonder what is the age cut-off, when children become manipulative and abandon the course of natural justice.
*Ducks*
I am doing something different on my Gordon, Ohio blog. I set out to photograph and describe every house in the village where I was born.
Gordon, Ohio
And this is a gorgeous picture.
Z, I hope not.
Greg, it did take a whole lot of shots!
April, it does draw the eye.
Dina, it helps to be full of yourself.