A man who carries a cat by the tail learns something he can learn in no other way.

Don’t give up little man. Battle on! Royal Botanical Gardens, Hobart. March 2012.

What more could one ask for this lovely Theme Thursday than a little bit oh HOPE?

“What are we if we are without HOPE?”, one might ask.

The answer is of course Tasmanian, but at the moment, it’s neither here nor there!

No, HOPE springs eternal, noted short literary bloke Alexander Pope used to say. He has a point, but that doesn’t mean that the confidence in an assured outcome will ever be repaid. Unfortunately, the cynical among us sometimes can’t help but feel that HOPE is the eternal purchasing of a TattsLotto ticket to a draw that will never happen.

Of course if HOPE translates itself into something more than the passive expectation of a result, it might have some use. HOPE transformed into action might instill a determination that otherwise could dissipate. This is the HOPE I like. This is the HOPE that seems very un-Tasmanian.

Can you tell that I’m having a good past couple of weeks?

Bring on the Easter Rabbit!

Comments

Roddy said…

What can we do with a drunken Ezra? Early in the morning.

5 April 2012 at 20:15

Brian Miller said…

i rather like the thought of hope as an action....and great pic of the kid man...

6 April 2012 at 03:29

Mrsupole said…

I just wonder sometimes if we did not have any hope then would we ever invent anything or make changes in our lives. So maybe you are correct in saying that hope can be active. At least I hope you are right.

Have a Happy Easter and TT.

God bless.

8 April 2012 at 22:30

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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