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Saturday, October 29, 2005
if i needed someoneyou're the one that I'd be thinking of
drat and double drat
clinker the rig master
youngsters in circle master haystack
ol' scarecrow hour is at hand
dark doom and rotten apples on the lawn
sniff runny nosed
listen to the elastic band
arrrrr me hearties
Tintin is afraid and his little
Snowie is all matted and piss-soaked.
Great Gigs is disguise
girl on girl
boy on boy
beast on beast
the firey sky
the crackling sulphur
gunshot kilburn car window.
all in aid of
ya get me
dja get me
stab im up
stab im up
dja get me
asians sellin us illegal skin bleacher
dja get me
oh I get you against a brick wall,
deejays shadows, enoughs enuff
I want to lie down with
hearing sirens in my sleep
not a peep or a wink
but the sound of the man
interferes and demands
give up your dreams and
share them with the world.
From your tower high perch,
you are a slave to all you survey.
sketched by dweller at 2:02 pm0 comments
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sugar and spice and
all things nice,
flowers and peacocks too
shells and bells
penguins and butterflies
too sharp to last
the Jamies are deadly
momma knows best
can you give me a bunk up
over that wall?
sketched by dweller at 2:28 pm0 comments
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Starring harry fintknapper
The screw turning modulation controller
With extra fine sheen tights and invisible plastic panties over the prickly blotched meat
Off turt club lahk
Vizualize the freekin’ cold wet night#
But I feel hot and shivery , fuckin voddy and redbull that,
Dressed like a slapper, thed never know oo I was
Me Harry Flintknapper
Screw turning modular arranger extroadinaire.
sketched by dweller at 12:00 am0 comments
Mexican village buries both the crime and the criminal
In the remote Mexican village of Dios Rios, justice is meted
out by the town elders. When one resident killed his cousin,
he was delivered a truly gruesome punishment
Teofilo Gonzalez Cano stabbed his cousin to death with two
quick jabs to the heart. They had been the best of friends,
growing up together in the same mud brick house in this tiny
village in southern Mexico. But one night they drank
themselves nearly blind on homemade grain alcohol. An
argument about nothing got out of hand, and soon Vicente
Gonzalez Santiago lay dead in the dirt
Teofilo ran. They found him at dawn, sitting in a forest
clutching his empty bottle. The local farmer who served as
village constable, another cousin of Teofilo's, bound his
hands behind his back and brought him in. The whole village
was waiting, more than 300 people. They forced Teofilo to he
facedown next to Vicente's corpse. They shouted at him,
called him a murderer. His mother sat in the dirt next to
her son, pleading for mercy.
The nearest police were more than two hours' drive away and
there was no telephone in Dos Rios, hidden in rugged
mountains 180 miles southwest of Mexico City. Justice in
this backwater belongs to a half a dozen town elders, who
stood over the two cousins in their early 30s, one dead and
one accused, and debated the punishment that day in 1999.
Finally they agreed.
"They said the two of them. Should be buried together," said
Catarina Cano Santiago, Teofilo's mother.
According to Cano, other Dos Rios residents and human rights
investigators, the elders enlisted villagers to carry out
the sentence. Some of the men hacked a grave in the rocky
soil of the village cemetery. Someone banged together a
flimsy wooden coffin, and the villagers put Vicente's body
in it. They hoisted the box and began a procession down a
narrow cow path to the graveyard. Others dragged Teofilo
by the arms. Women and children followed, marching under a
hot sun past fields of dead corn.
They placed Vicente's coffin in the hole, then threw Teofilo
in on top, with his arms and legs tied together. He screamed
and begged for his life, calling out to his mother, "Please
don't let them do this to me!" She tried to help him, but
her neighbours and friends held her back. The law had
spoken, and no one would stand in its way..
Twenty men started throwing dirt into the hole with shovels
and sticks. Teofilo, screaming, tried to climb out His
14yearold son, Felipe, ran to him and tried to hug him and
pull him up. Someone tossed a lasso around Teofilo's neck
and jerked him back into the grave, ripping him from his
boy's embrace. They pulled the crying youth away from his
father as the dirt piled higher and higher on top of him,
until he disappeared into the ground.
'When they finished," said his mother, "you could still hear
him screaming under the ground ..."
Fewer than 400 people live in Dos Rios, in a cluster of
softbrick huts baked by a close, heavy sun. There is no
electricity, not a light bulb in town. A priest comes once a
year to say Mass in the crumbling Roman Catholic church. It
has been months since a police patrol passed through
There is no formal accounting of how many people are killed
in Mexico's rough rural justice every year. But human rights
groups estimate that hundreds have been killed and hundreds
more beaten over the years in punishments meted out beyond
official scrutiny. Barrera said at least 10 people a year
are killed in the region around Dos Rios in a form of local
Francisco Estrada Rojas, who teaches at the elementary
school, said the elders ordered Teofilo to he buried alive
to "teach a big lesson".
Estrada said that when the police arrived a day after the
murders, they wanted to dig up the men to see for themselves
what had happened, and to put the two men in separate
graves. But local officials told the police that no one in
town would help them ... There is a widespread belief here
that the officers were paid a bribe forget about the whole
They didn't arrest anybody," Estrada said. 'Because they
would have had to arrest the whole community."
Kevin Sullivan In the Washington Post March 15
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the greatest "legwarmer" movie ever made
sketched by dweller at 5:17 pm1 comments
After all these years.
Last year we heard bad news about
Thought he was gone for good,
now he spends time in the public library.
Not the one I work in.
They're gonna play in Kilburn,
There hasn't been gigs there
since the National got turned into
an evangelist church.
Out of all the wonderful songs
that Mr Treacy has written
the one that catches me in the
back of my throat
transports me to some time
in Glasgow in a sunny wind of
memories is The Dream Inspires,
I just have to think of that song in my head
and I can hear the chorus
and I feel this feeling
that they managed to put into that recording.
Very powerful stuff, unbelievable.
When Dan first sings "dreaming spires"
I feel tears well up and just want to abandon
An all encompassing transcendent emotion.
More than 8 miles high.
"Stand amid the dreaming spires,
see the dream go higher and higher"
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