'We probably could have saved ourselves, but we were too damned lazy to try very hard ... and too damned cheap.'
Kurt Vonnegut, 'Fates worse than death'.
'If you will not fight for the right when you can easily win without bloodshed; if you will not fight when your victory will be sure ad not too costly; you may come to moment when you will have to fight with all the odds against you and only a small chance of survival. There may even be a worse case: you may have to fight when there is no hope of victory, because it is better to perish than to live as slaves.' Thomas Jefferson
'The price of freedom is eternal vigilance.' Thomas Jefferson. And who is the object of that vigilance? Who do you reckon?
"They who would give up essential liberty for a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety." Benjamin Franklin. Of course, much less deserving are they who would sacrifice the essential liberty of others to obtain safety for themselves. Kinda brings us back to the 'eternal vigilance' thing, don't it?
"It turns out that playing 'Robot Unicorn Attack' in your study break is NOT A GOOD IDEA." Ursula Dowman
This is my wargames blog. It does not contain political rants, despite the almost overwhelming temptation...
UPDATE: Just don't get me started on the issue of copyright, trademarks and 'intellectual property'... Oh... wait...
archdukepiccolo.blogspot.com The accompanying picture shows some urban art (as I call it) I saw recently on the wall of an abandoned factory in Christchurch. As a means of communicating personal identification (inter alia) I find this sort of thing more engaging and potentially meaningful than most modern art forms. One might despise the front fence tagger as a poor anonymous loser with few prospects of making a more significant mark upon the world, yet it is from such that these cheerfully insouciant designs are derived.
Finally, one of my wargame 'poems', written to describe a certain character in a friend's 'Vales of Lyndhurst' wargame narrative.
'The Evil Duke of Blanketty-Blank'
The bad old Duke of Blanketty-Blank is an evil little man;
He has no redeeming features, none at all.
His face is ugly as sin, you need a box to put it in,
And in his boots he stands just sixty inches tall.
He’s the Master of telling lies – he pulls the wings off flies –
His evildoing knows no curb nor bridle
The devil finds work for idle hands, as ev’ryone understands,
But from the Devil’s work the Duke is never idle.
He connives with the smugglers, schemes with the wreckers,
He rides with the Excise Men as well.
Bringing contraband ashore, he takes the wreckers’ score,
Then with troopers he rides them all down into Hell.
There is no evil he will shrink at; no crime that he will blink at;
His Grace has neither conscience nor scruple:
As his accomplices swing, and dance the Hangman’s Fling,
He boasts that Beelzebub’s his willing and able pupil!
But his evillest crime of all, as seen by great and small,
Was to plot the murder of our true born King.
May his crimes lie unforgiven, his bloated corpse rot unshriven,
For the Duke has never compassed one good thing.
The lowly worm find haven; a repast for the raven;
May His Grace perform Good Works in his decease.
But his soul be sport of Devils, ‘midst diabolic revels.
May the Duke never ever Rest in Peace.
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