More soda straw analogies

As I understand it, the vast progressive wing entertainment professional victim conspiracy media continue to report that Great Britain will be completely dead by Christmas, having taken the deadly BREXIT poison.

I suppose it's a kindness that they don't realize they're terminal.



There's something you just don't see around here. The big black cylindrical thingies are basically hay bales, covered in heavy black plastic. In Herefordshire (and most of the rest of England for that matter), where grass is very thick and has a very high water content, you can't simply bale and stack as we do here with our more sparse and less wet grass. If you did, your hay would rot. So what they do is ensile each bale by covering it in plastic. Ensiling is a process of preserving grass or other green forage through a process of fermentation. Silage is made around here, but usually with immature corn, called greenchop. And it's fermented in pits, rather than in individual bales.

In the next video you can see the neatly stacked silage bales at the farmer's home place. But listen very closely and hear the sound of church bells wafting over the English evening countryside. That's the very same sound you would have heard on a July evening one or two or perhaps even three centuries ago. In the hysteriattack media, Great Britain is portrayed as dark and grim and fading away rapidly, much as in the "bring out your dead" scene in The Holy Grail. But perhaps the knowitall entertainers don't quite have the focus dialed in on their soda straw.



Now, just for fun, what about this?



I'm sitting here trying to imagine what it would be like to have Stirling Lines just "over the hill." Is that cool or what? Yesterday near Hereford The Regiment celebrated 75 years. Think back to July, 1941. Great Britain had largely weathered the storm of Hitler's initial onslaught, and it was becoming clear that there would be no invasion from the Continent, at least not for a while. Britain had bled and bled and bled, while at the same time bleeding the Nazis. The idiot Hitler had turned east, which gave England some miraculous breathing room. Now it was time to go on the attack, and David Stirling had some ideas.

Do you imagine that the British people can be snuffed out just by pissing off a bunch of communist/progressive bureaucrats in Belgium? In Belgium? Belgium is where the Brits go to kick the shit out of jackasses who firetruck with them!

And at the same time, all across the length and breadth of the land, farmers continue to grow crops and livestock, continue to feed their nation and a good portion of the EU, and are presently getting paid more for their efforts than usual because of the present volatility of the Pound.

I know it's not fair, and it's mean and racist and unsensitive and homicidal of me to mention this, but the mommies and daddies of the present crop of crap media morons confidently predicted, back in the early 1990's, that Great Britain would soon be dead from mad cow disease.

Just imagine what the hyperinflated talking boobs of the self-proclaimed propaganda ministry would see if they shoved their soda straws up their collective asses and took a peek. Their collective fecalithic brains I'd wager.

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Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

I was out hiking and paused to snap a picture of the last calf of the season. Her mom was a little owly, but not too bad.

Late last fall, after the November snow had melted and on a lovely, balmy, early December day before the snows returned and winter clenched her cold iron grip, I was hiking across the south unit prairie. I came across a round piece of galvanized steel, a bit more than two feet in diameter.

It's not unusual to find such things. We live in a dynamic world, a world where there is weather and wind.

The piece of metal was a manway cover from the top of a grain bin. The nearest grain bin was more than three miles away as the crow flies. And that's almost certainly how it ended up where I found it. No, not Crow Air, but almost certainly lofted the distance by nature and her moving air.

I found the thing next to a harvester ant nest. The ants were deep in their burrows for the season, done foraging for the year and presently just kicking back and waiting for spring to arrive. They were probably drinking a lot of ant beer and watching ant football.

I wondered what would happen if...

So I flipped the metal disc over and stepped it down atop the ant hill.

As I'd suspected, the ants made do with the hand that the world had dealt them and incorporated the big piece of metal into the structure of their humble abode. They may be the only harvester ant colony in the world to live in an enclosed nest. Perhaps they call it the Antstrodome.



Not far away was a swallowtail butterfly

And a Tenpetal Blazingstar

And a Lark Bunting. Either a female or a non-breeding male

She or he was a little cross with me. And she or he was one or the other, and not a gilbert. Because nature doesn't give a flying firetruck what the professional liars think about the universe.

Which is nice.