Something Beautiful … January 30

 

A great story about friendship and why it sucks to be ‘It’

 

http://news.ninemsn.com.au/world/2013/01/30/12/09/friends-play-elaborate-game-of-tag-for-23-years

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The game of ‘tip’ isn’t a pastime usually associated with grown men, but a group of friends in the US have taken the childhood game to another level.

The hunting ground has moved well beyond the confines of the school yard and is now anywhere and everywhere.

For one month a year no player is safe and nothing is off limits as the player who has just spent the past 11 months as ‘it’ goes on the attack to get rid of the label.

The men, who slowly started to spread out across the country from their Spokane, Washington home, drew up a set of rules – known as the ‘Tag Participation Agreement’ – to ensure the game continued.

The game would only be active during the month of February and the player tagged last at the end of the month would hold the unenviable title of ‘it’ for the following year.

“You’re like a deer or elk in hunting season,” teacher Joe Tombari told the Wall Street Journal.

The continuation of the game was a relief for Mr Tombari who had been the last tagged when they finished school in 1982.

“The whole thing was quite devastating,” he said. “I was ‘It’ for life.”

The men take the game very seriously and employ tactics to ward off attacks from the current ‘It’ player. Staff at a player’s workplace are instructed not to allow other players into their offices.

One player even travels to Hawaii to avoid being tagged.

Ridding yourself of the ‘It’ tag often involves travelling cross-country and implementing elaborate plans to beat the defences put in place by other players.

In one year, priest Sean Raftis travelled to California and hid in a car boot to tag Mr Tombari. His wife got such a shock from Father Raftis she fell and tore the ligaments in her knee.

Another, Mike Konesky, broke into the home of marketing executive Brian Dennehy after midnight.

Mr Konesky snuck into the bedroom and tagged him, despite screams from his now-wife to run.

Mr Konesky is the current ‘It’ and is planning his attack for February.

Father Raftis, who has avoided being tagged for a number of years, knows he’s sure to be a target this year.

“Once I step foot outside the rectory, all bets are off,” he said.

 

(Reposted entirely from the ninemsn website. This is not my story or writing )

 

 

Something Beautiful … January 27

 

Australian Open Men’s Final 2013…

 

mensfinal

 

winner

 

Hours and hours of reality TV while it rained….

Don’t judge me!

 

Real Housewives of Atlanta

atlanta

 

Real Housewives of New Jersey

newjersey

 

Geordie Shore

Geordie_Shore

 

 

Something Beautiful … January 26

 

Great Southern Land – Icehouse

Standing at the limit of an endless ocean
stranded like a runaway, lost at sea
city on a rainy day down in the harbour
watching as the grey clouds shadow the bay
looking everywhere ’cause I had to find you
this is not the way that i remember it here
anyone will tell you its a prisoner island
hidden in the summer for a million years

Great Southern Land, burned you black

So you look into the land and it will tell you a story
story ’bout a journey ended long ago
listen to the motion of the wind in the mountains
maybe you can hear them talking like I do
“. . they’re gonna betray you, they’re gonna forget you
are you gonna let them take you over that way . .”

Great Southern Land, Great Southern Land
you walk alone, like a primitive man
and they make it work, with sticks and bones
see their hungry eyes, its a hungry home

I hear the sound of the stranger’s voices
I see their hungry eyes, their hungry eyes
Great Southern Land, Great Southern Land
they burned you black, black against the ground

Standing at the limit of an endless ocean
stranded like a runaway, lost at sea
city on a rainy day down in the harbour
watching as the grey clouds shadow the bay
looking everywhere ’cause I had to find you
this is not the way that i remember it here
anyone will tell you its a prisoner island
hidden in the summer for a million years

Great Southern Land, in the sleeping sun
you walk alone with the ghost of time
they burned you black, black against the ground
and they make it work with rocks and sand

I hear the sound of the stranger’s voices
I see their hungry eyes, their hungry eyes
Great Southern Land, Great Southern Land
you walk alone, like a primitive man
you walk alone with the ghost of time
and they burned you black
yeah, they burned you black
Great Southern Land

 

Something Beautiful … January 24

My Country

The love of field and coppice
Of green and shaded lanes,
Of ordered woods and gardens
Is running in your veins.
Strong love of grey-blue distance,
Brown streams and soft, dim skies
I know, but cannot share it,
My love is otherwise.

I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of rugged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror
The wide brown land for me!

The stark white ring-barked forests,
All tragic to the moon,
The sapphire-misted mountains,
The hot gold hush of noon,
Green tangle of the brushes
Where lithe lianas coil,
And orchids deck the tree-tops,
And ferns the warm dark soil.

Core of my heart, my country!
Her pitiless blue sky,
When, sick at heart, around us
We see the cattle die
But then the grey clouds gather,
And we can bless again
The drumming of an army,
The steady soaking rain.

Core of my heart, my country!
Land of the rainbow gold,
For flood and fire and famine
She pays us back threefold.
Over the thirsty paddocks,
Watch, after many days,
The filmy veil of greenness
That thickens as we gaze …

An opal-hearted country,
A wilful, lavish land
All you who have not loved her,
You will not understand
though Earth holds many splendours,
Wherever I may die,
I know to what brown country
My homing thoughts will fly.

Dorothea Mackeller