One of the greatest pieces of economic wisdom is to know what you do not know.

As you all will know by now, I’ve had both Henry and Ezra undergoing rigorous physical exercises to prepare them for the harsh realities of walking to the south pole… barefoot!

In all seriousness, this winter has seen life resemble more the rugged and brutal training scenes of Rocky IV (the one where Rocky drags trees around in Siberia in order to beat the dastardly communists and bring freedom and democracy to a godless inhuman totalitarian system).

In these photos, you can see the lads doing shuttle runs between the posts, whilst weighed down with packs filled with lead cannonballs. I have them on fifty groups of fifty reps, with a punishment of fifty additional reps if they don’t complete ANY of the first 2,500 laps with a certain time frame.

These boys are now so fit that I’m thinking of sending them to North Korea, to sort ‘em out! As you can see, the lads are enjoying all of that pain.

Comments

Roddy said…

Don't you think you are being a little hard on the boys?

31 July 2010 at 20:44

Roy said…

Heh, heh! You cruel taskmaster, you!

1 August 2010 at 00:44

Magpie said…

They do look like they're having way too much fun. Maybe you're being too easy on them? :)

1 August 2010 at 08:36

Kris McCracken said…

They'll thank me!

4 August 2010 at 17:55

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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