Are the things in the
Queer Coalitions causing you heartburn and/or headaches? Well --
that's because they are causing your thinking to go in wrong
directions due to your exposure to their ugly campaign of contrived
and disguised lies.
The things are
deliberately trying to kill all of the natural stimuli that you would
ordinarily receive in a Natural Environment; and are trying to
replace all good environmental stimuli (which you would otherwise
experience) with their own contrived Ugly Queershit.
THAT -- causes your brain
to warp and distort out of its own Natural Thought Processes and into
a twisted and mutilated horror that only Queershit Spreaders and
Queershit Eaters can appreciate. You are being turned into trash for
the edification of Trash Masters. And, so that you will be deranged
and feeble and hapless and therefore never able to revolt against
their regime of Queer Bullies and Propagandists and Politicians and
Berserkers. With their Queer Medias of endless lies, they try to turn
your thoughts into monstrosities that become your own worst enemies;
therefore neutering you with internal pain and doubts and fears. All
of which only exist because you allowed their Ugly Stimuli into your
life -- such as the TV Turds, the Gutter Monkeys of the FM bands, the
twisted trash of the queer newsrags, and the spider-like mongrels of
the queer magrags.
Which is one of the big
reasons why I am including the 'Here' series of photo-journalism in
this website. Here, you can at least see how things are supposed to
be. If only I could show you how your brain should look, I would
gladly do so.
[[Human websites are not
the novelties or curiosities or biased or prejudiced places on the
Internet that the enemies of Humanity want you (or anyone) to believe
they are. Human websites are like Life Buoys in a fetid sea of putrid
Queer websites and Greedy Websites and Neurotic websites and Fetish
websites and Opportunistic websites and Political websites and
Oddball websites and Monkey websites and Big Business websites.]]
In this installment of the
'Here' series you can also see how our Natural Environment is never
supposed to be -- that is, infested with awful ButtUgly Windmills
from the ButtUgly Windmill Imperials in Des Aliens (formerly Des
Moines) -- where all things unnatural are the Preferred Choice, and
all of the Natural Universe is a mere 'inconvenience' that exists to
be wrecked and ruined and tamed to their preferences.
[[Their BUWI Propaganda
websites actually claim that Natural Life as existed before their
ButtUgly Windmills is now dead and gone; and everyone must accept the
domination of the BUWIs. They call it 'The New Dawn of BUWI
Domination'. At the same time (literally) they show pictures of the
Local Star rising behind a group of ButtUgly Windmills that tower
over the viewer. It is the first thing that everyone should see and
revere when they wake up in the morning. When you see such insanity
at the BUWI websites you realize that the BUWIs are not just insane
with greed, they are also sinister Pieces Of Shit, racketeers, thugs,
liars, scum bags, trash -- in short the lowest forms of organized
criminals.]]
----------
The photography for this
installment took place on June 22, 23 and 25 and July 11 and 13, a
period of time when the crops across Iowa are 40-50% fully grown,
depending upon the variety. During that time I took more than 1200
photographs, of which you will see 227. As always, I am including
pictures that may have no other value than to provide Good and
perhaps Pleasant Stimuli for you as Desktop Backgrounds.
*************************
*************************
This installment started
on June 22nd, a Wednesday, outside of Eagle Grove where I live. I was
just starting to drive about searching for pictures when I looked
back at the town and saw those clouds overhead.
These are taken from the
east side of town, looking west.
I then turned around and
photographed the scene looking east from the same position.
I was driving easterly
anyway, so I took some shots out the window looking north.
This put me due south of
Clarion, where I was headed for by now for fuel and drinks.
After stopping at Clarion
I went south and east, still in Wright County, because it looked like
better picture taking over there. I found a nice spot and took
pictures to the east, south, and west from the same place.
Further east and still in
Wright County, looking south.
Same area looking
northeast.
Another intersection
picture. I have turned northwards now, heading for Belmond. Looking
west here.
Before reaching Belmond I
turned westerly again towards the Iowa River. You will notice
throughout this installment that the sky tones of blue change often;
that is due to the direction of the photograph at the time and the
angle of descending Star Lux.
Iowa River.
Now, I doubled back on the
dirt roads heading for the hardtop to Belmond, which is on the other
side of that rise.
Going north towards
Belmond again.
Then on a county hardtop
going west again.
The Iowa River again. I am
now determined to go over to the marshlands just west of the river
and look for animals to photograph. I would photograph hard working
DNR employees out here, seeing for themselves what Nature is doing
and what Nature needs from Man to stay healthy -- if there were any
-- which there never are. Besides, what Nature needs from Man -- is
less Man anyway.
Bingo. Mr. Sunbathing
Frog.
Going into the marshlands.
In Iowa every depression in the landscape that can catch and cache
water does so, and thereby becomes a center for life activities.
I worked my way northwards
and around the large pond that is now so famous, going to the swamps
on the other side of the hill. Looking west here. I have been at this
tree in so many different weathers that I cannot remember them all.
It is kind of a 'way point'. If you can make it to this tree in heavy
snow then you have a chance of spending a day out. Otherwise, you
have to turn back before you get to the tree. There are no particular
(specified) 'snow belts' out here like there are in New York State,
where the southern coast of Lake Ontario is an unbelievably immense
'snow belt' (every year) capable of dumping twenty feet of snow;
which I have seen and actually driven through when I lived there.
At the swamp, one of many
in Wright County, I found a veritable beehive of activity at all
levels -- crayfish in the roads, hawks in the skies, many birds, and
deer too fast to catch on camera. I stopped the car and got out.
I had never noticed this
bird type before in this region. Here, there were about four of them
standing out amongst the crowds.
A crayfish. There were
several of them right in front of the Cashmere trying to cross the
road. Since there are swamps on each side, they travel from one swamp
to the other. Further down the road, for hundreds of yards, there
were crayfish crossing the road like it was a shopping plaza.
They are called
Yellow-headed Blackbirds, and they have staked out a section of tall
grasses and reeds which I parked next to. In the fashion of most
birds here in Iowa the curiosity of a Chevy Impala caused them to fly
about making territorial displays.
These are all males, with
black bodies and yellow heads. The females are of a light brown color
and hide in the grasses.
A nearby red-tail that
wants no part of photographs.
After a lot of cavorting
around, the Top Bird stopped at one place and began to stare at my
camera lens. I patched together four photos of him, staring at me,
into a collage.
Then, I was trivialized.
Then, I was ignored.
So, I decide to photograph
the nearest road sign. The greens are so strong out here that I have
to reduce them during editing. The trick is to look at the grass.
Most greens out here are actually a combination of green and yellow,
except for the corn which is fertilized. The grasses are not
fertilized, and if you zoom in on the grass and reduce the saturation
until the grass looks right, then the rest of the picture will look
as it really did.
Beyond which is a good
view of what I was saying about every depression being a catch basin
for water runoff. I was going to proceed down this road, but the day
before there was a heavy rain storm and the ground was still so wet
that the Cashmere was sinking into the road like a plow. I stopped at
the top of the rise, which can be seen in the previous picture, and
got out and took this photograph. Then I carefully backed out of
there.
On firmer ground this time
(the firmness is entirely dependent upon the rock content) I
proceeded north in a general pursuit of further animals to
photograph. This, and the next two shots were taken to show how Rural
Iowa should look without the God-Awful ButtUgly Windmills from the
Imperial Anuses at Des Aliens.
Moving towards another
wetlands area.
At this point, I am near
the border area between Wright and Hancock Counties. I stopped here
and took this picture facing east, to show the nearby corn fields
right across the road from the marshlands.
I turned westwards and saw
a group of dragonflies nearby. One of which stopped for photographs.
Overhead was a Red-tailed
Hawk, one of many that were watching me this day.
Another shot to show what
Rural Iowa is supposed to look like without ButtUgly Des Aliens
monstrosities.
Kanawha.
Many hundreds of these
grain haulers are active these days across Iowa.
A nearby pond, which shows
again the malfunctions and the incompetence of the so-called DNR here
in Iowa. Instead of getting rid of those invasive cattails on the
right, which would cost money, they spend their meager funds on their
own perks and self-interests. Those invasive plants have been getting
worse each year, for years. It is ignored by the DNR patsies wherever
it happens. The DNR asswipes just let it happen, and excuse their
incompetence and cowardice as -- "the nature of the Nature is
changing, that is all it is".
Bullshit. They are so
gutless, and reduced to subservience beneath the city assholes at Des
Aliens, that they now exist as a standard of 'What Never To Be' if
you are an environmentalist. It takes money to correct the
mis-actions of people who bring invasive species of plants into
unspoiled waters, by not cleaning their boats properly. But the DNR
is church mouse poor, except for fake faces and their own perks.
Besides, how do you ask
someone in a Dildo Factory for more money? How do you talk about
Nature in a Dildo Factory like the one called the
'Statehouse/Pantyhose Emporium' at Des Aliens? Across the street from
the Cathouse of the forever decadent and decayed Monkey Judges.
No -- the puppets at the
DNR have to squirm and crawl before their Political Masters for table
scraps. Especially so whenever those scum in the Statehouse/Pantyhose
Emporium (in Des Aliens) have been paid huge sums of money to vote
for land-killing projects. Such as the latest debacle called a gas
pipeline, that unnatural Bastards and Bitches want to build across
Rural Iowa -- and -- the Political Masters at Des Aliens have ordered
the DNR stooges to approve -- or -- get their already meager rations
cut even further.
I NEVER
see the DNR mannequins out here. Not ever.
Yes. Politics is Death.
Look at what the Politics
Game is doing now, if you can bear to look at such shit. Look at the
so-called contest (election) to be the next Resident at the White
Outhouse. That game is now a choice between a Demented Queer-Licking
Cunt with Berserkers for Chaperones and a Planet-Killing White Ape
with banks for wallets.
That is Death, either way
you look at it.
And -- if -- you are a
stooge or slave or a fool -- you are trained to think that such crap
is all that you can ever have -- and you must follow orders and Vote.
Which does not matter to
us here. None of those Idiots can ever look at this website.
My time for pictures was
coming to an end for this day. I wandered back across the border to
Wright County.
Next day, Thursday June
23rd. Skies were mostly clear except for up north. Photography is
always better where there is some cloud cover to provide shading and
contrasts, therefore I headed for the clouds. Here I am going north
on Route 17 which is part of the western border of Wright County.
Looking west as I drive
north.
Looking east. That is
Corwith.
Looking west.
On top of the Crystal Rim
looking west. That is Wesley. Notice how the new silos are so close
to the town. That is the way to do it, instead of littering the
countrysides with new dipshit facilities for Show and Tell purposes.
This and the next eight
shots are in the area between Wesley and Britt. Looking north.
Looking north.
Looking east.
Looking south.
Looking east.
Looking west.
Going north.
Going north.
Going north.
Another red-tail.
I hope these make good
Desktop Backgrounds for someone.
I changed this one to show
the red-tail as best as possible.
Typical Red-tailed Hawk
country; many mouses.
I was going to edit these
four into one combined collage, but then I decided to give each one
its own frame. The first one is a Desktop Background that I use, on
center mode.
Last good look at Rural
Iowa before I pass into a BUWI HELL ZONE.
BUWI Hell. Immediately you
can see how the natural setting is disturbed and broken down, and
cluttered with horrid machines from the ButtUgly Windmill Imperials
at Des Aliens Fascist Headquarters. (formerly Des Moines) This is in
the Far North of Iowa, north of my own North Central Region. Looking
north.
Instead of scenic vistas,
all that you see here is disturbing clutter and missing horizons.
This is in Hancock County, where the supervisors are obviously
clueless (or corrupt) and the farmers are weak-minded and greedy
suicides. Looking north.
This and the next six
pictures are all looking north.
That grove of trees and
those farms are essentially dead now. No longer beautiful or
pastoral, they are dumpsters (called Testing Farms by the BUWIs) for
whatever and every insane machine and earth-killing technology that
the Business Assholes want to experiment with -- where there are no
populations of complainers to protest about their new contrivances
and money-making ironmongeries.
Do you see this happening
at a fascist neighborhood in Des Aliens? Or at any other DemoCrap
compost heap? Of course not. Greedy farmers are the trick. The one
thing that the scum of Des Aliens know about the rural areas is that
there are Greedy and Insane Farmers out there. The
voting records tell them that!!!!
And -- the radio
(bleep)suckers that litter the AM airwaves with all kinds of stupid
farm programs, and (as all medias do) try to organize the stupid
farmers into radio coalitions and enslaved radio cultures addicted to
their radio programs (thus assuring for themselves permanent slave
audiences) -- are also at the ROOT
of the problem. Those douche bags report to the Politicians and the
Business Assholes and the BUWIs -- about any weakness of the farmers
that they know of or discover -- about any addiction of the farmers
-- about any perversion of the farmers; in other words about any
media successes against the farmers. Setting up the stupid farmers
for a big fall -- is Big Business. Stupid farmers mean Big Money for
Assholes.
Poor Stupid Farmers. Now
they will all be bludgeoned and Queershitted again, by the Deviate
Medias, because the Big Business Assholes will be afraid that some
stupid farmers read this message.
You will notice in these
pictures that the fascists are still putting up more ButtUgly
Windmills. You can see the crane equipment below one of them.
This is the kind of
picture that the BUWIs use in their propaganda advertisements, to
mask over the horror of what their Sphincters-In-The-Sky are really
doing to the landscape. Of course, they are all anuse-eyed and in
love with their own assholes -- so you can imagine what they like for
landscapes. Should I illustrate that? Should I show dozens of
drooling assholes lined up in a row? A BUWIs delight!
Well -- every Big Business
Asshole's delight too.
This area used to be among
the most pristine and beautiful in all of Iowa. I was here before the
God-Damned Sphincters-In-The-Sky were here.
This was once one of the
most beautiful sights in all of Iowa!!!! Now, it looks like an alley
cat's playbox. A litter box. And trust me, it will eventually be
littered with the trash and dumpings and leavings of the Big Business
Assholes; which will get permission to trash the place from the
BUWIs. The imbeciles that give away their farms to the BUWIs have now
lost them forever. From now on, it is all BUWI property!!!!
Now I am driving along the
same road retracing my path and looking south. As you can see I am in
the middle of a BUWI HELL ZONE with ButtUgly Windmills north and
south of me. This section of Hancock County has been murdered. This
is like being in a mechanized cemetery. It really feels creepy there.
Patton once said that
Fortified Defenses are just monuments to the stupidity of Man. He was
fond of destroying Fortified Defenses. In ButtUgly Windmills, we see
monuments to the Greed of Man. Grave Markers really. Marking the
graves of entire farms and countrysides.
Noisy and obnoxious grave
markers. Listen to how loud one of those things is >>>>>>>>>
Typical Noisy ButtUgly
Windmill--06-23-2016--NW of Crystal Lake--IA
I took this from the
driver's window of the Cashmere with the motor off. In the recording
you can hear a hissing sound. It did not come from me or the car. It
had to have come from outside the car. Listen to the sounds of the
windmill. All of that noise is from one windmill. Now imagine how
hundreds and thousands of those monstrosities sound to the natural
inhabitants of Rural Iowa. Do you see any Hawks or birds around?
Something else, do you
think that the Big Business Assholes (with pathetic little rotten
dicks, and syphilitic asses) that are doing this to our country --
would not rape and ruin and spoil and torture any other planet that
they could get their bloated fingers on?
Those farms look like they
are being attacked in a War Of The Worlds scenario.
War of the Worlds--Famous
Fantastic Mysteries--07-1951--Wikipedia
This looks like the BUWI
replacement of the Three Crosses on the hill at Golgotha, where Jesus
Christ was crucified. Exactly like the Three Crosses, those ButtUgly
Windmills stand for -- DOMINANCE OVER AN
OPPRESSED PEOPLE. Whether the
conquerors are the Roman Imperials of the past or the ButtUgly
Windmill Imperials of today.
How would you like to
build a house up there, with all of the Friendly Windmills? Don't you
believe the BUWI-Shit? That demands your agreement, that all ButtUgly
Windmills are your friends. Quiet neighbors.
More and more and more
BUWI ruination of the scenery and landscapes, that the ButtUgly
Windmill Imperials tell the city shitheads is not happening. How many
BUWI lies have you heard so far?
This gives it all away!
This one photograph is evidence of the Deviate Connection to all
BUWIs, and to any effort (anywhere) to kill the Natural Universe.
Look at a closeup of the machine. What does the label say?
'Progressive' is a Queer Propaganda term. Only Deviates and DemoCraps
and dirty-assed Monkeys use Queershit Propaganda Words like
'Progressive' and 'Equality' and 'Sexual Orientation' and
'Liberals'. Definite proof there. Yes, I mean it. Ad agencies are
full of Queers.
Can you imagine the amount
of noise four of those things make 24/7/52? This is one reason why I
have banned Des Aliens. I will never go into a neighborhood of Des
Aliens again, unless there are 50 of these things installed in the
back yards of the houses in that neighborhood. Period.
BUWI Property -- stay out.
This is as bad as the
Skeleton Coast of West Africa. However, as bad as this looks it is
not as bad as what is next.
These are pictures of what
was once the town of Crystal Lake. It is now reduced and degraded and
defamed to the status of a 'BUWI Every Town' -- which means it is
just one of the first phase of all towns that MUST BE DOMINATED by
ButtUgly Windmills.
Ugly-fied by ButtUgly
Windmills.
Look -- the ridiculous
fish is still there. Who cares? The lake is empty and it is already
late June. The nearby camping area used to be full of tourists and
campers. Now only two exist there, and both are White Pasties with
BUWI stock. The town is deserted, and I have been here in past Junes
when the place was hopping with activity.
Why the lack of tourists? Why the emptiness? Look at the
pictures.
What do you see ruining
the beauty of the town? What do you see dominating the landscape? WHO
THE FUCK WOULD WANT TO VACATION IN A BUWI CEMETERY????
And then, from the same
spot, I turned away from the devastation and took a picture of how
all of it should still look. Rustic, pastoral, with horizons
uncluttered and life un-drained by ButtUgly Windmill Suckers.
Six more scenes of
atrocities. Notice that the BUWIs are still killing the area by
making more ButtUgly Windmills.
********************
Fagsny is now happening. The annual gathering of Deviate
Fascists that flaunt their dominance and richness in the faces of all
of the common people of Iowa -- in the guise of a bicycle ride across
Iowa (which by itself is an act of dominance) -- is happening again.
And, guess where. In an election year. Where would the
Fagsny Deviates be riding their dildos on wheels during an election
year?
Answer: Where there are the least of their own ButtUgly
Windmills to be seen and shown in the publicity photographs that the
Queer Medias take of their Parade Of Depravity. On a southern route
in the southernmost sections of Iowa, where there are few ButtUgly
Windmills to cause embarrassing photographs -- that will show the Des
Aliens Imperial Fascists in a bad (true) light!!!!
Election year tactics!!!!
Is that why the southern route has been exempted from
Death by Ugliness????
Is it a coincidence that on the same day that the Fagsny
(formerly Ragbrai) Ride of Perverts started to befoul Iowa, the
Queers at the Des Aliens Rearsniffers newsrag claimed (in print) that
one year after the Deviates took over the so-called Boy Scouts (and
turned it into their favorite Sex Toy Pouts) the so-called Toy Scouts
are doing good with enrollments.
What Boy Scouts? That place died years ago. Oh gee --
they must be lying about the corpse of the Boy Scouts -- now the Sex
Toys of the SQLD/DemoCraps.
Naw! You don't think a queer fuck newsrag of the
DemoCrap Queer Fucks would lie about what the Queer Fucks do -- do
you?
Fagsny -- is the world's worst display of assumed anal
superiority over Nature and God to ever be performed on bicycles!!!!!
Now watch the Deviates position some fags on bicycles
near Atlantic or Adair (which are swamped with ButtUgly Windmills)
and take pictures; and then claim that they are on the Fagsny course
for this year.
Which brings up an important point.
****IMPORTANT POINT****
Liberals no longer exist. It is all Queershit Coalitions
now. Henceforth, I will refer to all non-humans as Queers in general,
and to the scum who think that they are the new Master Race as the
'Deviates'. Heil Deviates!!!!
[[Don't look now -- butt the only thing that Queers are
equal to is their own Queershit. The same fact applies to all evils,
of course.]]
Handlemanpost.wordpress.com
Iowa.gov
********************
Here is a typical result
of the combination of Total Evil and Political Fakery. This area used
to be frequented by fishermen with boats, and I was here to see it.
This, and the next three pictures show what looks like a swamp which
is completely covered over by weeds and reeds. However, it used to
have three ponds in it. That is, until it was invaded by cattails at
a time when there was no Human Agency to protect it and remove the
invasive species.
The key term there is
Invasive Species. You know what an Invasive Species is. You see the
things every day. We call them Politicians and Cowards and Political
Entities, such as the DNR which is about as far away from a Human
Agency dedicated to Nature as any can possibly be. Which explains, of
course, why they only hire neuters.
Private BUWI property. As
always, there is some dumb and duped farmer somewhere that is so
unbelievably stupid that it thinks this is still its land. Nevermore.
I once heard of a crow
that used to say that.
A man named Edgar Allen
Poe once wrote a poem about a Man and his grief over a lost lover --
the fair maiden named Lenore. The parallel is quite appropriate here.
Many a farmer should be grieving over his lost land which will be his
-- Nevermore.
Once upon a midnight
dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never- nevermore'."
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by Horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting-
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never- nevermore'."
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by Horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting-
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!
The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe.
George_Hazelton's The
Raven (Edgar Allan Poe) 1908
In the same area was a
park that used to be quite popular. On a June day such as this, it
was occupied by campers and tourists to such an extent that I used to
marvel at where they all came from. Just driving around the small
lake here was once a traffic problem with so many kids running about
and so many campsites occupied. Indeed, it was so crowded that I
never stayed there, preferring my privacy.
Today, it is a ghost town.
There was only one person there looking sadly at the lake.
On three sides, the park
is surrounded and befouled by ButtUgly Windmills from the fascists at
Des Aliens. The southern approach is still open. Because of that one
fact, there are still Geese here. They fly in and out of the park via
the southern (natural) route.
Empty. The beach here used
to be a tourist attraction with people all over the grounds.
The one person here did
not even bring a tent with him. What for? Why stay?
Empty in June.
I turned around and began
to leave. This place is now a BUWI write off -- a 'BUWI Everywhere'.
Here is the reason why.
Not even the most ridiculous of tourists would want to camp out next
to those God-Awful things. They surround the park on three sides. It
would be like taking a vacation in the parking lot of BUWI
Headquarters in Des Aliens.
I laughed out loud when I
saw this. What a complete fakery this now is.
Only a Robot would want to
spend time in a defiled and defamed place such as this. This is one
of the most ludicrous travesties that I have yet to see in Iowa. Only
a typical Politician Asshole could think that there are
justifications for this crime.
This was once a handsome
scene. It was pleasant and attractive and harmonious.
On the way home, I took
two more photographs in areas that were not diseased by ButtUgly
Windmills; to show how Iowa is supposed to look. Well -- that is to
say -- how the Real Iowa is supposed to look. The dirty and demented
and vile and greedy vermin in Des Aliens think they own this land,
and they can dump on it all they want to. Those creatures think this
land should look like their greed wants it to look. Which will change
day by day as new opportunities for their Greed Fulfillment arrive
from the Big Business Assholes around the world.
********************
This issue of the
defrocking and dis-enfranchisement of the Rural Lands from their
owners and their natural worth is just one of the problems that Big
Business Assholes are causing to our planet.
I saw a Big Business
Asshole recently. It was a typical maleoid white pasty greedy pig,
with short hair over a puffy piggy face, and a dominant/impatient
attitude, and a Cadillac SUV; and it was driving on Route 30 between
Missouri Valley and Denison like it owned the road; and truly it
thought it did. To such things as that, the entire world is just
something to control and squeeze. Squeeze for money. Squeeze for
profits. Squeeze for comforts. And, comforts only come from screwing
over everyone else -- except the other Big Business Assholes that
have the same attitude. Then, it is a matter of gaming and
competition and thievery and what crimes they can get away with. The
rest of us -- we are just the fodder under their tires.
Another very urgent
problem that Big Business Assholes are causing is the deforestation
of the planet. Here are some websites about deforestation >>>>
Causes of Deforestation
Companies responsible for
Deforestation
Deforestation Tables --
Important
The planet is truly being
burned down. The fires shown on these maps are forest fires
deliberately set to clear lands for crops and cattle, and large
village fires using wood from forests that have been torn down.
07-2006
07-2007
07-2008
07-2009
07-2010
07-2011
07-2012
07-2013
07-2014
07-2015
07-2016
The above ten maps were
created by Jacques Descloitres, and come from
this website >>>>
********************
June 25th, early in the
morning. This is in Wright County again, along the eastern border.
The previous photographs were taken by my Nikon with resolution
6016x4000. The photographs on this day were taken with my Sony (which
I use for art purposes) with resolution 3872x2592.
Looking away from the
sunrise.
Above is one of the many
early morning jets that fly over Iowa.
From ContrailScience.
Notice where Iowa is
located.
Since I was north of Dows,
I decided to travel south and get a look at the area.
At Dows I took a simple
study of the silos there. A light and contrasts study.
Because of the weather
above, I decided to head for that famous pond again, hoping to get
there before the thunderstorm that was coming in from the south.
On the way I stopped at
some fields.
The Iowa River again,
still driving north.
With the storm approaching
I arrived at the famous pond and tried to find some insects of any
description to photograph. With the rain starting I could only find a
Robin and some industrious ants.
Two shots of God's Bow,
the Real Colors of Nature and Humanity.
Now the storm closed in
overhead and the pictures became harder to take. I kept
re-positioning the Cashmere so I could shoot from inside and keep the
lens dry.
I should repeat that in
most cases I had to turn the green down in these photographs during
editing. The cameras (Sony or Nikon) become overwhelmed by the
'Greenness' of this countryside. They just cannot achieve a proper
saturation rate.
July 11th, west of Wright
County; right along the border between Humboldt and Kossuth County.
This was not a day in which I expected to take a lot of pictures.
Looking towards Luverne.
A vulture takes an
interest in me for a while. I get out and speak loudly to it, giving
it directions to Des Aliens.
The vulture listens to me
while circling, and then flies towards Des Aliens.
I proceed to Luverne.
East of Luverne I start to
wander north and east randomly.
I ended up back in Wright
County again. I wasn't really into going very far this day. However,
the opportunity arose to take some videos of the county, and I ended
up spending long hours trying to get some.
July 12th and 13th,
nighttime in the Eagle Grove area. My intention is to find some place
where I can get a good view of the Milky Way Galaxy (ours). I am
using the Nikon camera again with the 18-140mm lens.
This, and the next four
shots are aimed at Eagle Grove with the Moon overhead. I try to take
the pictures at different time delays to show the effects. You will
have to turn all of the lights out in your room to see these
properly. I did not alter the lighting of the photos to make them
look better in full light.
This one was taken at 2.5
seconds time delay, using a tripod.
3 seconds time delay.
4 seconds.
4 seconds.
4 seconds.
5 seconds. Now looking at
Goldfield.
8 seconds.
Milky Way Galaxy.
Milky Way Galaxy. There is
a story to this. I found a place where there was not too much ambient
light and the Milky Way was very visible. I got out my tripod and set
up the camera; then I started to take a lot of time delayed (30
second) photographs. I was completely alone out there for hours, of
course. No automobiles of any kind. There were some dark farms in the
distances, but there was no one else out there at all. Just me and
the camera and the Milky Way -- and -- a herd of cows that I had
inadvertently woken up when I stopped. For hours they berated me with
loud voices that would wake the dead. They were truly and genuinely
pissed off, and voiced their anger at me. Meanwhile, while I was
trying to ignore them, and then I was shouting back at them (while
the exposures were being taken) -- there was a Raccoon near to me,
down in a stream, cracking shells with a rock like some old shoe
smith working late at night in his shop on the King's Shoes. I
watched him for a long time, while the exposures were being taken. He
just sat there with his ass on a sand bank and banged on shells (that
he had placed on a large boulder in the sand) with a rock; opening
them and eating the contents. Then he did something that is not
supposed to be possible according to the Science Priests. He picked
up one rock with one hand and placed it onto a shell that was
difficult to open, and then grabbed up another (larger) rock with the
other hand and slammed it down on the first rock. Just like a hammer
and a chisel it worked and the shell cracked. He was eating the
contents when a Hawk arrived and began to screech at everyone. The
cows had simmered down a bit (to loud grunts) and now they began
their bellowing again in earnest. This went on for the hours that I
was there. I should have used the opportunity to exercise my best
Bull Moose calls. But those cows don't even know what a Moose is. You
know about Bull Mooses and cows -- right? Did I tell you that one?
True story.
You will notice in these
photos, all taken at 30 seconds, that in such a short time the stars
actually move in the sky; leaving short streaks instead of dots of
light.
The stars are NOT moving
in the sky. The planet is moving. The Earth is rotating constantly,
such that as you stand anywhere on the Earth you are carried towards
what we call the 'East'. Hence, any celestial object that you see in
the night skies is being taken out of your view towards the 'West'.
This is the simple explanation of why the Sun and Moon rise in the
'East' and set in the 'West'. Neither is moving at such a rate. The
perception of movement is caused by the rotation of the planet
towards the 'East'. Literally, the Earth will rotate you into a
position where you can see the Sun and Moon rise in the 'East, and
carry you 'eastwards' until the Sun and Moon are carried out of your
view to the 'West'.
Milky Way Galaxy. The line
in the southeast quarter is from the flashing lights of an aircraft.
Out here in a storm this
is one sign you do not want to see. Roads that are not plowed in the
winter are usually less rocked and solid than the others.
I took a fast look at the
dashboard of the Cashmere. It was 02:55 hours on the morning of the
13th.
A typical intersection in
the night. Too crowded for me.
*************************
*************************
Markel Peters
_1908.jpg){kind=link}