I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

Yeah, I live in a really exciting part of the globe, me.

The big news story in the local paper?

A fight in a hay field.

No, really. Some redneck dude got permission from one of two landowners, to hay their field. While he was out haying, the other owner--who was an absentee owner, living in another county, who'd been away for several months, happened by, and took exception to a strange person haying her field.

Rather than do the logical thing, and call the other owner and/or the police, or at the very least, civilly ask the farmer some questions, seems the woman and her boyfriend went out to the field, and began cutting the ties that held together his freshly cut bales.

When the farmer objected, the woman got all butch and threatened the man physically. He--apparently the farmer had martial arts training--he threw her down and dialed 911. She got up, and went at him with the knife she used to cut apart the bales, and he threw her down again, telling her to stay there till' the police got there.

The police have arrested the woman and she faces multiple charges, the boyfriend was arrested for harassment.

Just some more pictures from my short outing on Sunday. I forgot to mention that on our ride, there was an immature bald eagle perched on a fencepost--but it was too far away, and in shadow, and my horse was negotiating around some trees, so there wasn't an opportunity to snap a picture, sorry to say.

Like the moose, bald eagles are starting to make a comeback in northern New York state. Someone even claims to have spotted a wolf, but that's being taken with a grain of salt, and most people think it was a dog or a coyote, that the person spotted.

Not bad photos for a $5 disposible 35 mm camera, I guess, but I miss my old Kodak EZ-load, that really took some great pics.

FRENCH MOUNTAIN, Lake George, New York, as seen through the paddock rails of Wild West Ranch theme park.

"Chubby" the quarter horse.

Bob the trail guide, turning "Chubby" out into the paddocks.

A few more shots of the wild west show's dog and pony act, from much further away--the cowgirl in the chaps--whom I was told, did the trick riding and trick roping (in the USA, it's called a "rope," or a "lariat," not a lasso, btw)--anyway, she was going elsewhere, and I wanted to catch her in the shot before she left, so that's why the long shots:

Hmmm--read an article in the LA (Los Angles) Times, which speculates--and I want to emphasize the "speculate" part--that David Tennant, Russell T. Davies, Julie Gardener and Eros Lynn, are all appearing at San Diego's Comic Con convention in 27 day's time, to make a big announcement...the newspaper hints that the announcement will be that Tennant will star in a Dr Who feature film for the cinema.

I want to believe that, but I prefer to adopt a wait and see approach...yes, it would be BRILLIANT, though, wouldn't it?

I am already missing the Davies-Gardiner-Tennant team... (apologies for my crap spelling--hey, I'm a Yank, crap spelling is in our genes)...and Phil Collinson, he was fab, as well.

Nothing against the incoming team/actors at BBC Wales at the moment, mind you. I'm sure they'll prove to be every bit as brilliant, though likely in entirely new ways.

I remember reading where the mighty DT will also be heading up to LA after the convention, to do a schmooze with the press or something like that. Now, it may be a bid to keep Americans interested in Dr Who post-Tennant/Davies, or, it might be a big reveal, we'll see.

You know, sometimes I think the guessing is more fun than the actual knowing.

I know some American newspapers are whining about people linking to their articles, but it's already online, for pity's sake, I'm just telling you where to find it. Don't see how that's copyright infringment, but...it's not like they can do anything, I have no money, and even if I'm jailed, at least I will have room and board and no more worries about being homeless.

Anyway, here's the link to the online article:

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/herocomplex/2009/07/doctor-who-in-the-house-david-tennant-at-comiccon.html

They're also asking people to post questions for Davies-Gardiner--Tennant-Lynn. I'm ashamed to admit this, but even tho' I've been a dedicated Whovian for the past 26 years, and majored in communications/jounalism for a bit--and was even a features reporter for the college paper, I can't think of a truly clever question to ask. So...I'll stay mum.

But, if you can think of something scathingly brilliant to ask the quartet of Who, click on the link and have at it.

Something just went "BANG!!" down the street. Startled the hell out of me and poor Boots just bolted in from out on the balcony.

If it was only a truck backfire, it was a helluva one!

Traffic just stopped dead in its tracks, so something just happened. Maybe someone hit something. No sirens yet, though, so maybe it's something minor--but jeez, that sounded just like a firework or small bomb, going off.

To someone who likes to write, I suppose that words become more precious than all the gems hawked by Tiffany's for the last 100 years. Cervantes wrote, "The pen is the tongue of the mind." It's also the open door to our hearts and souls. Even fiction, in some way, reflects the true soul of the writer, lurking about between the pages of a novel or script.

Writing is as much an art form, as a painting or a symphony or a theatrical performance. The picture pleases the eye, the music charms the ear and words inspire the mind.

Whenever I pick up a pen, it is as if my very soul were being laid out on a cold hard slab, under the harsh light and knife-sharp eyes of the entire world. I often feel complelled to make every paragraph count for something. Each word, like a carefully-laid brush stroke, painting the portrait of my thoughts and immagination.

Every new sentence or phrase, is like a layering of melodies, a symphony made solely of letters; letters forming words, words forming sentences and paragraphs...all with a purpose. And, that purpose is self-expression. My soul reaching out, like a drowning victim in a desperate last gasp, to make a connection with other human beings.

Forget text or chat writing. That's about as empty a form of communication, as grunting and scratching.

Forgive the rude description, but when a human being deliberately chooses to write in this new form of pig-latin known as 'text-speak,' outside the context of actual texting, then that is no more different, than choosing to write with your own poo.

Words are precious. People have been imprisoned for writing--even killed, whether for a manefesto, an book, or for some hastily scrawled graffitti on a wall...yet still, they continue to write. A poet in China was imprisoned following the Tinneman Square protests, the prison authorites took away his paper, so he wrote on the walls. They took away his pen, and he continued to "write" his poems on the walls...within the confines of his own immagination.

Why should we take writing less seriously? If we do not write, how will the world change? Actions come from thoughts and words, if we gag ourselves with silence, or text-speak, or limiting ourselves to 140 keystrokes...what becomes of our future as a human race?

There is NO shortcut to learning or wisdom. Impatience is the enemy to thought, it gags us as effectively as if we were in solitary confinement in a dark hole of a prison...yet, impatience is the new way of humanity, these days, and that could prove every bit as destructive to the human race, as all the world's nuclear bombs put together.