There is no error so monstrous that it fails to find defenders among the ablest men.

There really is never enough time in the day. As the time stamp on this post will attest, time is something in short supply of late!

Yes, yes... Theme Thursday again, and as I walk into walk I can't help but think the sun glinting off the [no doubt solid gold] cross atop St George's Anglican Church [did you know that churches have websites now?] in Battery Point is a SIGN from upon high.

Just what that SIGN signifies, I'm not sure. I suspect that it involves time, or a donkey, or maybe some kind of immaculate conception. One thing that I do know however, is that I don't know.

Not knowing is a kind of knowing.

Perhaps that's the SIGN.

Or significance.

I'll get my coat...

Comments

Roddy said…

It looks silver from where I'm sitting.
Not knowing can be a sign of not really caring.
Unless you are deeply religious then I don't think it really matters.
Bring on eternity. Heaven or Hell, as purgatory is here and now.

25 March 2010 at 15:43

Megan said…

I know for sure I don't know. At least I know SOMETHING for sure.

25 March 2010 at 15:57

anthonynorth said…

Some signs are very subjective, aren't they?

25 March 2010 at 19:40

Brian Miller said…

saw a church sign yesterday that said "LIVE DONKEY AT EASTER!" and i just laughed...

26 March 2010 at 00:47

Betsy Brock said…

A donkey would be for Palm Sunday, right? haha.

26 March 2010 at 10:50

Nanc Twop said…

sign or no,
its looks like a very
interesting church

;-)

26 March 2010 at 11:27

Kris McCracken said…

Thanks all. Last week was quiet!

1 April 2010 at 11:04

Mad as hell

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 ...

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

Something unpleasant is coming when men are anxious to tell the truth.

This is the moon. Have I mentioned how much I adore the zoom on my camera? It's Theme Thursday you see, and after last week's limp effort, I have been thinking about how I might redeem myself. Then I clicked on the topic and discover that it was BUTTON. We've been hearing a lot about the moon in the past couple of weeks. Apparently some fellas went up there and played golf and what-not forty-odd years ago. The desire to get to the moon, however, was not simply about enhancing opportunities for Meg and Mog titles and skirting local planning by-laws in the construction of new and innovative golf courses. No, all of your Sputniks , "One small steps" and freeze dried ice cream was about one thing , and one thing only : MAD Now, I don't mean mad in terms of "bloke breaks record for number of scorpions he can get up his bum", no I mean MAD as in Mutual assured destruction . When I was a young man you see, there was a lot of talk about the type of m...

This will hurt me...

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