The Sun[newspaper] has decided to desecrate* the holy day of Sun[day] shopping by covering it in shit. The Sun[god] was very unhappy with this and made it's displeasure known at the sacrilege;
A magnetic filament snaking over the sun's northeastern limb rose up and erupted during the early hours of Feb. 24th...The eruption split the sun's atmosphere creating a "canyon of fire"
The glowing walls of the canyon are formed in a process closely related to that ofarcade loops, which appear after many solar flares. Stretching more than 400,000 km from end to end, the structure traces the original channel where the filament was suspended by magnetic forces above the stellar surface.
As erupting magnetic filaments often do, this one launched a coronal mass ejection (CME) into space. The Solar and Heliospheric Observary recorded the expanding cloud: movie. UPDATE: At first this CME did not appear heading for Earth. However, a new analysis by forecasters at the Goddard Space Weather Lab shows that the cloud will indeed hit Earth's magnetic field on Feb. 26th at 13:30 UT (+/- 7 hr): animated forecast track. Geomagnetic storms are possible when the CME arrives.
Previous Edition of Rupert Murdoch
* Before the ugly truth has come out and as the wall of secrecy and deletion crumbles around his decrepit empire, the Antipodean Beast appeared to have the Midas Touch. This should not be confused with the Dubya Touch, which could either be one of the great money laundering scams of all time or a level of incompetence beyond even that of governments entrenched in their own political graves Now the psychedelically spiked miasma has drifted from the nostrils and the slow repulsive recognition comes to fruition as we realise we have been smelling not roses, or even the pungency of manure that roses are grown in , but the stench of long rotten corpses.
Like many kings, the Beast has his Heralds such as Andrew Bolt, who was described by a Judge no less as "at worst dishonest and misleading and at best, grossly careless. It reflects upon him as a journalist."
However sometimes a certain bluntness of speech is required, by repeating what these soulless bastards have inflicted upon the children of our planet - as aptly told by the media jury of their piers;
The way of the craven, the psychopath - who has no sense of guilt or shame, who is willing to fabricate at every level and then lie to cover up no matter the consequence to other human beings or their own flesh and blood - has been described through the ages as evil. Some have made overt references to lizard like qualities
- "the News of the World...hacked the mobile phone of the missing schoolgirl Milly Dowler"
- "How come we still haven't done the email deletion policy discussed and approved six months ago?"
- "a collective shudder ran through the office (but) MacKenzie's dominance was so total there was nobody left in the organisation who could rein him in except Murdoch. (Everyone in the office) seemed paralysed...It obviously wasn't a silly mistake; nor was it a simple oversight. Nobody really had any comment on it—they just took one look and went away shaking their heads in wonder at the enormity of it. It was a 'classic smear'"
- "Police officers were paid more than £100,000 by News International journalists who hid their true identities in company records"
- "End of 'Don't ask Don't Tell"
- "Top Cops in dawn Swoop on Myself"
- Saudi Arabia are 'moderate' says the man who said cops doing their job is a 'witch hunt' when they turn on a bunch of lying bastards with the kind of moral compass that would make Queen Bligh` and her regime seem a paragon of virtue.
- "Sun journalists arrested: Let's pretend it's a witch-hunt!...the bloody nerve! We're all in favour of this being done to people we don't like and easy targets like poor people,ethnics and the Birmingham Six, but really, we should be treated differently because we work in the media, oh and we're white."
Is it really any wonder why the Sun[god] sent us such a message when the lizard embodiment of pure evil walks amounts us?
1 comment:
You are a bad, evil bastard Craig, an evil genius within whose blog might be discovered a universal panacea, an imaginary antivenin for all the known mental ailments troubling humanity. I fear however, for the mental well-being of academics exposed to your ruminations and plots, who would surely join literature's equivalent to The Surgeon Of Crowthorne to complete their work in a barred residence for the dangerously bewildered.
I noticed the bit on rotting corpses and having deduced that the juices of one was seeping into the concrete floor of the adjoining flat one summer day in a tropical town, one can justifiably use the foetid word. I made do, in describing the corrupt end of Brisbane's George Street, as the sewage end, but I hasten to add that discretion disallowed proper nouns like Schwarten, Bligh and Lucas to be so included.
In time I hope to get around to a lot of things, and completing the half-baked post I alluded to is top priority. I recognise this lame missive as an inadequate reply to your tweets, being more "off the cuff" to the point of ad lib than yours, but I hope to atone.
The object of that post was to correct your mind image of a hard-drive buried in the freezer with the gen to bring down an empire. For me at least, that m.o. is as dead as the micro-dot attached to postage stamps. I would fuck-up if I tried being technical. No! I belong to the abacus era, a hand-written diary for my notes which must be added-to daily to maintain a rhythm.
My partner kept a hand-written record of her dealings with a piece of shit named Rogers and his drug-using daughter who fraudulently assumed credit for the training of the winner of an inaugural 2 YO race that has gone on to be a big event in Australia's racing calendar.
My friend, who Oscar Wilde had in mind when he asserted no good deed should go unpunished coaxed me into obtaining a loan at the huge compound rates of the eighties for a half interest in their recently retired, 77% place rate stallion, for stud work. The cash was for dealers who were leaning on her.
Rogers, a retired air-line pilot, quickly reneged and secreted the horse with another "partner" leading to my friend's notes being pivotal in getting the cash back and the hollow victory of the stallion's return.
Since then, I've kept a similar hand-written daily record of the most mundane of happenings, and as such can't be easily altered as can p.c. entries.
I suspect this stuff doesn't get to your post or problems with html. Will stick it on my post and you can take it if you want it. I've lots to do and should dismantle modem, twitter a distraction. Adobe reader crashing and not even
watching wanker stuff.
Till later, Les Johns.
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