Monday, March 14, 2011

Of Cowboy Poets and Faith Healing


Me and Zeb rode God's land
down canyon, mesa, brush,
to mend the lame with healing hand,
to sing of cowboy lust.

Now, one dark night Zeb couldn't see,
stepped off a railroad bridge
but grasped the edge and dangled free,
one tough son of a bitch.

Zeb hung there by his fingertips
'til dirt he saw at morning light
was but an inch below his feet,
which pissed him off so much he hung there for rest of the day, just out of spite.

Friday, March 4, 2011

It's only the climate, ducky.

People are being asked to look out for aeroplane trails, or contrails, which may be contributing to climate change and which can only be recorded by the human eye.

Researchers are also urging schoolchildren to blow bubbles to measure wind speed.
--- London Telegraph

"Well, I'm off, dear."
"Where to, love?"
"Doing some climate work."
"Such as?"
"Blowing vapor trails and looking at bubbles."
"Smoking at the pub with a Guinness again, are we?"
"Oh, damn. Sorry. Got that backwards."
"Likely story. Then where's your camera?"
"For recording the vapor trails."
"Won't work. The Met says vapor trails can only be recorded by the human eye."
"Do I look stupid?"
"No, love, just British."