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Showing posts with the label chess

A guilty conscience needs to confess. A work of art is a confession.

Early morning chess. Franklin Square, Hobart. June 2012. The Internet is a wonderful place filled with the rich and varied treasures of the world holds (blah blah blah). 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 lovely article on the value of procrastination, or what the game of tennis can teach us about decision making. ”There is both an art and a science to managing delay." . It's something we've become less skilled at in our high tech age... Here you are: http://www.slate.com/articles/life/design/2012/06/button_history_a_visual_tour_of_button_design_through_the_ages_.single.html">A history of the button. Sitting is killing you! Do you ever wonder about the names we give colours? If so, you might like this one: The crayola-fication of the world: How we gave colors names, and it messed with our brains .

Let's make things nice and sparkling clear. This sarcasm - if I may call it such, is very unbecoming of you oh my brothers.

Quick tip for new players: NEVER turn your back on Henry during a game of chess. Your horsey will be outta there before you even know it! The key thing to remember with you Hank is, no matter how well you know the rules of the game, he always has a little lagniappe for you...

Mad, adj. Affected with a high degree of intellectual independence.

Tora! Tora! Tora! Beware Henry, your prawns are under attack! Ezra favours the aggressive style favoured by the Latvian greats of the early twentieth century, most notably Kārlis Bētiņš. High risk and high reward is the toddler's favourite.

'You may call it "nonsense" if you like,' she said, 'but I've heard nonsense, compared with which that would be as sensible as a dictionary!'

Henry's prawns are intact, but his horsey's are vulnerable to a flanking manoeuvre. He better be careful though, because the increasingly mobile Ezra - he can run now - has his eyes set on the castles...

(My) Photo of the day, Or Rook and pawn versus rook endgame

Stunned by the audaciousness of my rook-work, Henry is for once lost for words. It is a hard lesson for a nineteen-month old, but the lad needs to know that if the rook gobbles up all of his prawns, the horsey can do nothing at all the help the king. Unfortunately the little bloke is the chess version of John McEnroe. A very unsavoury business, the police were called but the capsicum spray was not needed.