History does not long entrust the care of freedom to the weak or the timid.

A drum. Just out of Brighton, the Tasmanian Southern Midlands. June 2012.

As you know, the Internet is a wonderful place filled with the rich and varied treasures of the world holds (as well as a lot of very lonely people.) The following are some things that I've had a look at in the last week. I call this: a Compendium of Click-throughs for Monday Morning..

A good overview of just how we might go about creating good schools.
A fascinating look at disputed and false memories. How is it that you can start to believe someone else's memory is your own? And why is it so straightforward to give people memories of events they never actually experienced?
Kate Beeton (of the Hark! A Vagrant webcomic fame) nails the culture of media commentary on female politicians.
Where the Buffalo No Longer Roamed. The tale of how the wild west was won and where it got America.
"Protracted depression is making life ever harder and disillusioning for those, and their children, trapped at the bottom—while making those at the top ever more robust about looking after themselves and their own". Born poor? Bad luck, you have won last prize in the lottery of life.
To understand intelligence, maybe we should look not for what creates it, but for what destroys it. Fresh thinking and a great example of why scientists should blog...
Hating Ms. Maisy: The Joy, Sorrow and Neurotic Rage of Reading to Your Children.

Comments

Roddy said…

Looks like an old water tank.

24 July 2012 at 18:53

Kris McCracken said…

I assume that it is.

25 July 2012 at 16:36

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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