pexels-cottonbro-studio-5371577The Grand Canyon is but a mere trickle through lowly pebbles in comparison to how much I hate being told what to do. The poem below perhaps captures the greatest representation currently encountered, but the irritation can equally extend to being told how I felt about something; especially when the feeling in question is one I don’t particularly care for.

A recent example occurred after happening to see some musicians at a local pub; one in particular I’d thought quite outstanding and the next day commented on their social media post about the gig to say so. Their reply: ‘Glad you had a nice time.’ Continue reading


Welcome to a world of cruel dystopian colour; a place where the wills of people are crushed to smithereens while they writhe, screaming and yelling, for more-more-more, please; a realm of defecating into giant reverberating chambers that regurgitate it all as an intellectual sustenance gleefully chowed down on with great gusto and—mmm . . . yummy—appetite.

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Snowflake’s Delight

It’s Christmas. TV and media are shoving images of lovely things to eat in our faces hand over fist.

As a vegetarian, all this revelling over dead carcasses doesn’t make for fun viewing 😦

Before becoming one, there was a time I didn’t get it for a second; even being known to scoff at, instead of consider the view.

These days I frequently see/hear ‘snowflake‘  used in relation to fellow flesh-dodgers. Continue reading