<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9969671</id><updated>2011-04-21T19:30:11.965-07:00</updated><title type='text'>fiacre: the artist</title><subtitle type='html'>where wits burn off their fat</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fiacre401.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9969671/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fiacre401.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>fiacre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06819963255062252365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>5</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9969671.post-110974239903807501</id><published>2005-03-01T21:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-01T21:46:39.040-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Good News</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;    Good news, the war is over. Whatever could we have been thinking? But everything's ok now, nothing to worry about at all. Human beings have finally been declared illegal. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;     Plunder and outrage have been cast into the vault of stenchful memory. Sanity stalks the cosmos with a large and bloodied club leaving in its wake the smoldering giggles of the troubled and digruntled gods. The joy of strife has been replaced. The knees that wobbled have fallen to the ground in exhausted genuflection. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9969671-110974239903807501?l=fiacre401.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fiacre401.blogspot.com/feeds/110974239903807501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9969671&amp;postID=110974239903807501' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9969671/posts/default/110974239903807501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9969671/posts/default/110974239903807501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fiacre401.blogspot.com/2005/03/good-news.html' title='Good News'/><author><name>fiacre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06819963255062252365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9969671.post-110672021227865868</id><published>2005-01-25T21:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-28T13:50:24.283-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Useful tips</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.top_blogs.com/cgi-bin/rankem.cgi?id=fiacre"&gt;http://www.top_blogs.com/cgi-bin/rankem.cgi?id=fiacre&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(see "profile" for more/other delicacies, please, I insist)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wnen you look under the bed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. someone may look right back...you may not recognize them...your heartbeat may accelerate...gather your wits and try to start a conversation... play for time...crawl slowly backwards...make no sudden moves...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. a group of darkly clad people may be watching monitors...&lt;br /&gt;you have stumbled onto a secret base...they will try to eliminate you...move out of the country and get plastic surgery...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. the stale pizza crusts may be toxic...avoid contact of any kind...do not try to negotiate...play for time and continue as in 1. above...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. the shadowy forms may look familiar...crawl in under the bed with them...they are your own fears...they love you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9969671-110672021227865868?l=fiacre401.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fiacre401.blogspot.com/feeds/110672021227865868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9969671&amp;postID=110672021227865868' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9969671/posts/default/110672021227865868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9969671/posts/default/110672021227865868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fiacre401.blogspot.com/2005/01/useful-tips.html' title='Useful tips'/><author><name>fiacre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06819963255062252365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9969671.post-110611241036120479</id><published>2005-01-18T19:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-18T21:26:50.363-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Trees</title><content type='html'>      Trees stand there with their roots planted deep in the earth. They do not waste time thinking about us. That is very tree-like of them. Only trees are privy to the innermost thoughts of trees. Tables, chairs and paper. Logs and fenceposts. We should not ever forget the shade and fruits they give us for our pleasure. We owe a debt of finely crafted furniture to our arboreal friends. We may cut them down, they will never complain. Trees do not complain. They simply stand there, converting CO2 into the oxygen we breathe and love. It is very difficult to breathe a million dollars.&lt;br /&gt;        Trees know nothing of whales. Why should they? Their knowledge of the ocean is very limited. Trees know the nourishing earth, the photochemical tingle of the sun. They know how to prevent landslides and floods. Elefants knock them over and monkeys and squirrels scamper about their limbs. They sometimes stand alone in the middle of a field and invite us to ponder. They stand in billions in the northern lands, the jungles of the amazon cherish their roots and somewhere there is a spreading chestnut tree.&lt;br /&gt;         Man has always taken note of trees, he couldn't help it. They make their presense felt by standing there, unperturbed. They never blink. Man thinks of how he can convert them into spoons and wooden ladders. That is very man-like of him. Man has decided that he owns the trees. He may take them at his will. The trees will never fight back, that is not their nature.&lt;br /&gt;         The tree of knowledge. Mind the fruit.&lt;br /&gt;         The hanging tree. Unlace the boot.&lt;br /&gt;         The olive tree. What age the root?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9969671-110611241036120479?l=fiacre401.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fiacre401.blogspot.com/feeds/110611241036120479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9969671&amp;postID=110611241036120479' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9969671/posts/default/110611241036120479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9969671/posts/default/110611241036120479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fiacre401.blogspot.com/2005/01/trees.html' title='Trees'/><author><name>fiacre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06819963255062252365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9969671.post-110535716498194802</id><published>2005-01-10T02:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-22T00:22:39.583-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WAR</title><content type='html'>An eminently human activity which fills our history books and newscasts. Yes, indeed, unless of course, you happen to be in the middle of it. Then it is an extremely personal affair. It involves the murder of real, individual people who have not volunteered to be statistics. Most of us would not normally deliberately kill another person, we cannot envisage it. Right, so we are basically decent human beings.&lt;br /&gt;Now we have a problem; what if we support a particular war for what we consider special reasons? Well, all we really have to do in order to feel that we break no fundamental bond with humanity is to skip over or even ignore the nasty bits. We can create an infantile, good guy/bad guy matrix. We can abstract out the whole thing, analyse strategies and comparative death figures. Most useful, however, is to think solely about the poor guys on our side. Forget the dead people on the other side, kiddies and grannies as well as fighters. Why bother thinking about things like that if it's only going to make us feel guilty. Because, you see, basically decent human beings do feel guilt. Governments can help enormously in this respect, they have the means. They have already proven that they have the power to convince us of many different things. They can lie to us in such a way that we need feel no shame if we believe them. It also helps if they make the people we kill seem somehow not quite human like us. And then there is the fact that, nice and good as we are, we simply don't have any other choice but to blow those others into small, fleshy pieces. Sorry, but that's just the way it is.&lt;br /&gt;This could easily bring us to another thought: why choose to live another bloody mess?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is always preferable to have war take place as far away from your own living environment as possible. There are many reasons for this. War generally involves explosive devices which may lead to the destruction of your home and the dismembering of your body or the bodies of close relatives and friends. Telephone, water and electrical installations may also be destroyed. If you do choose to wage war, it is recommended that you select a country or region with weak defences and bad press. Civilian casualties should always be officially regretted but need in no way hinder the day to day killing of real or perceived enemies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The basic purpose of war is to get rid of people who in some way bother, irritate or otherwise get in your way. Much has been written on the subject as though it were simply another facet of human endeavour. This is a grave misuse of intellect. As easy as it seems to be for human beings to give vent to their negation of decency in the persuit of some collective desire, it should never be dressed in anything other than the evident stench of the torn and festering human body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those who contrive the wars seldom personally suffer its havoc, they convince others to do it for them. It is most advisable, for health reasons, to not be talked into anything of the sort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9969671-110535716498194802?l=fiacre401.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fiacre401.blogspot.com/feeds/110535716498194802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9969671&amp;postID=110535716498194802' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9969671/posts/default/110535716498194802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9969671/posts/default/110535716498194802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fiacre401.blogspot.com/2005/01/war.html' title='WAR'/><author><name>fiacre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06819963255062252365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9969671.post-110502261105733914</id><published>2005-01-06T06:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-12T02:43:09.370-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Questions</title><content type='html'>1......How often do we stop to wonder why it is that we think precisely what we think instead of&lt;br /&gt;SOMETHING ELSE?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2......Dear Problem Solver,&lt;br /&gt;My kid Luke won't eat his processed cheese. He says it's never had&lt;br /&gt;anything to do with the nourishing fluids secreted by any mammal, never mind a cow. He's&lt;br /&gt;only eleven so I don't want to kill him. He won't shut up about all the awful crap in the&lt;br /&gt;supermarket that we only eat because we've been convinced that it's normal. Everybody&lt;br /&gt;eats it. He makes me feel so dirty. Should I have him looked at?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.......If a person accepts that someone else perform, in his stead, an act which they themselves&lt;br /&gt;would find repulsive, "they" being the people in the supermarket, should we not mark them with a sign and persecute anyone who had anything to do with them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One should never underestimate the importance of questions. "Who put this here?" "What if it misses and hits the hospital?" "Is that really the best way to go about it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question everything. Yes, everything! No, you won't turn into a wobbly, indecisive pain in the ass. That's just what they ("they" being everyone in the supermarket) want you to think. Let me give you an example: "Is it really normal to chain people together and put bags over their heads?" This is a question we all ask ourselves. A good, healthy question. You can come to the conclusion you deem appropriate but the asking of the question itself, exercizes the mind and renders it less susceptible to deliberate hoodwink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;QUE: If there are twenty sacks of wheat on an island and the population of the island is twenty, will the food be shared fairly?&lt;br /&gt;Philosophers have struggled with this dilemma since the first man was subjected by another of his own species.&lt;br /&gt;The conclusion , though readily available, has somehow escaped being brought into the cold light of public scrutiny in anything resembling a brand new, once in a lifetime, special offer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;QUE: Just how far are you willing to go in order to avoid using your mind in a way that you must go to the trouble of actually wondering if you really should think about it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Short questions:&lt;br /&gt;How's your god today?&lt;br /&gt;What did you say his name was again?&lt;br /&gt;Does that ritual do anything?&lt;br /&gt;How many t-shirts did you sell?&lt;br /&gt;Who told you about this god in the first place?&lt;br /&gt;Does it really make sense?&lt;br /&gt;Wouldn't you prefer to just be a good person on your own?&lt;br /&gt;Don't you find god a little like ufo's?&lt;br /&gt;Why did god pick your side to cheer for?&lt;br /&gt;Is god really american?&lt;br /&gt;Have you any real idea why you believe god is out there?&lt;br /&gt;In there?&lt;br /&gt;Who thought it up in the first place?&lt;br /&gt;And how the hell did it end up promoting war/murder?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It does not end here, many questions remain.........................................................................................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9969671-110502261105733914?l=fiacre401.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fiacre401.blogspot.com/feeds/110502261105733914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9969671&amp;postID=110502261105733914' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9969671/posts/default/110502261105733914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9969671/posts/default/110502261105733914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fiacre401.blogspot.com/2005/01/questions.html' title='Questions'/><author><name>fiacre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06819963255062252365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
