Author: Dearbhla

Bunk Beds and Gates

While over at Anne’s I got involved in a discussion on bunk beds and the harm that may, possibly, befall bunkees, which leads to this story, which you may think is...

FIFA

The new world rankings are up on FIFA’s site. SO the question that must be raised is “You are kidding right?” Any football ranking system that puts the USA at number...

Interviewed

Questions from A High and Hidden Place You were born in the wrong time. If you could live in any time period but our own, where and when would you live?...

Alias

Fence Sitter’s Aliases Your movie star name: Crisps Denis Your fashion designer name is Fence Dublin Your socialite name is Gerbil Dublin Your fly girl / guy name is F Sit...

Cultural Snobs

If you speak English and watch the telly you’ll probably be aware of the phenomenon that is Harry Potter[1], and you may also be aware of the growing backlash. People giving...

The Artist’s Statement

OK, I’ll admit it: I’d really had enough at that point. I was tired of confrontations with small people with authority complexes. I was tired of feeling scared. I knew that I’d done absolutely nothing wrong, and that I’d presented clear evidence that I was not a threat. In fact, all things considered, I still think I’d been more than pleasant about the whole thing up until that point. I saw no good reason why I should have to give this canine patrolman my ID. He seemed intelligent, and I assumed that someone in his position was supposed to be reasonable. I also assumed that someone in his position would know that if I’d really wanted to take secret photos of this public landmark that he would never know about it. Sure, I knew why he was asking for my ID, and why he was really asking for my ID. And he knew why. But I was wondering if he had the balls to actually say it to my face. I was back to wondering when I could start saying “no”?

Rare exports

Had to post a link to this .mov about some Rare Exports. Takes a while to download.