Sunday, June 28, 2009

Screw Iran, THIS is conflict.

In recent weeks most of the news media has been primarily concerned with the controversial re-election of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and the subsequent street protests, violence and deaths. Due to restricted foreign media within Iran, sites such as YouTube and Twitter are proving to be alternative, unbiased news sources.
However, without taking from the problems in Iran, there is an issue much closer to home that I feel needs as much, if not more press coverage.



'Shit-your-pants terrifying' - One local politician's take on the situation.



Yes that is right folks. The seemingly ongoing row over turf cutting rights has indeed heated up again. Who this row is between is unknown to me. I did try and research the story, but unfortunately the article was too boring to comprehend, I will wait for the inevitable big budget Hollywood adaptation, hopefully directed by Micheal Bay or Oliver Stone.

Friday, June 12, 2009

Not the Bee all and end all...

Moments ago, ladies and gentleman, I went through somewhat of an ordeal. I was going about my business in the bathroom, as one does, when a bee flew in the window. Now, not wanting to get stung while, well you know, so I didn't make any sudden movements. When I was ready (hands washed), I prepared to do battle. I took a towel an twisted it into the form known as a 'rat tail' and faced my striped foe.
Not wanting to spend much time with it, I waited until the bee came to a stop on the window. I twirled the towel some more and flick my wrist, hoping to deal a killer blow. A killer blow was indeed struck, but alas, it was a death knell to mum's vase that sat on the window sill. As the vase crashed of the cistern and to the floor, the potted plant in was home to flew through the air, landing at my feet.
I looked at the destruction I had caused, then stared intently at the bee as it mocked me. Not wanting to have broken the vase in vain, I twirled the towel again and flicked me wrist. Bulls eye. This first strike did not kill my adversary, only riling it more. I continued my attack, assuming a fencing style of striking and bouncing backwards on the balls of my feet.

After what I had thought was the final strike I left to get my phone to document the chaos. When I returned I poked the dead bee with the corner of the towel. Before I made contact though, my fallen foe lifted a leg/arm as if to say 'No more sir. Let me go honourably, alone with just my thoughts to sooth me'.
It was at this moment I felt a pang of remorse and empathy. What had I done? Had this bee just gone on a early afternoon flight, perhaps to look for work or a new home for his family who had grown weary of hive life and wanted a more relaxed pace of life? As these thoughts buzzed around my head, I slowly cleaned up and left my respected foe to feel the sweet embrace of death as he thought of his loved ones.


Bumble B. Buzzington
2009-2009
May he rest in peace.