Stories and News No. 612
After the decision by the Aerospace Defense Command North America, in short Norad, of showing the video of the usual monitoring of the location of Santa's sleigh, this time accompanied by warplanes, the following message of protest came to me, written by a very angry old woman:
Now it’s over. This is too much. The measure is full.
I could use other ways to explain it, but the meaning would ever be the same.
I have had much patience, I challenge anyone to deny it.
But what do these people think? That we are all blind? Incurably stupid, I add?
Ah, of course. I cannot certainly speak for everyone.
But for my part, I am not willing to suffer in silence and I am here to stop this.
What should I do?
Continuing to accept this?
I haven’t seen anybody pointing out this unspeakable imbalance.
But really, not with the usual harmless themed evenings to show off your radical chic uniform, or worse, the heartfelt ‘I like’ on those virtual papier-mâché called Facebook pages.
Here we must take the field.
Here you should get hands dirty, scratched knees and muddy shoes.
Then returning home in the evening filthy, tired and sweaty.
But with the consciousness seriously in the place it deserves.
That is, in the face in the mirror.
And starting over from there.
Because let's face it: it is easy to earn the scene, to be cool in the situation, when you're a calming fat, hair and beard apparently white with methods anything but natural, rosy cheeks by the drunken partying with those Gremlins as helpers.
Ask the reindeer, ask them if I invented all.
Let them tell what kind of chemical stuff they put in the mash to trick the speed.
Control their doping or, better, interview one of them, maybe with the nose covered.
Everybody knows that Santa Claus’ hand arrives everywhere and there is no witness protection that works.
Of course, I assume that some of you will be wondering why I take it so much to heart.
Put yourself in my shoes.
He travels with his beautiful red overcoat and sit warm on a sled that every year becomes more equipped, as are the reindeer to work for him, and you give him also the escort fighters?
And what about me? Not even a small helicopter?
Think I have got a double ass flying on a broom…
The Befana
Also on Stories and News:
After the decision by the Aerospace Defense Command North America, in short Norad, of showing the video of the usual monitoring of the location of Santa's sleigh, this time accompanied by warplanes, the following message of protest came to me, written by a very angry old woman:
Now it’s over. This is too much. The measure is full.
I could use other ways to explain it, but the meaning would ever be the same.
I have had much patience, I challenge anyone to deny it.
But what do these people think? That we are all blind? Incurably stupid, I add?
Ah, of course. I cannot certainly speak for everyone.
But for my part, I am not willing to suffer in silence and I am here to stop this.
What should I do?
Continuing to accept this?
I haven’t seen anybody pointing out this unspeakable imbalance.
But really, not with the usual harmless themed evenings to show off your radical chic uniform, or worse, the heartfelt ‘I like’ on those virtual papier-mâché called Facebook pages.
Here we must take the field.
Here you should get hands dirty, scratched knees and muddy shoes.
Then returning home in the evening filthy, tired and sweaty.
But with the consciousness seriously in the place it deserves.
That is, in the face in the mirror.
And starting over from there.
Because let's face it: it is easy to earn the scene, to be cool in the situation, when you're a calming fat, hair and beard apparently white with methods anything but natural, rosy cheeks by the drunken partying with those Gremlins as helpers.
Ask the reindeer, ask them if I invented all.
Let them tell what kind of chemical stuff they put in the mash to trick the speed.
Control their doping or, better, interview one of them, maybe with the nose covered.
Everybody knows that Santa Claus’ hand arrives everywhere and there is no witness protection that works.
Of course, I assume that some of you will be wondering why I take it so much to heart.
Put yourself in my shoes.
He travels with his beautiful red overcoat and sit warm on a sled that every year becomes more equipped, as are the reindeer to work for him, and you give him also the escort fighters?
And what about me? Not even a small helicopter?
Think I have got a double ass flying on a broom…
The Befana
Also on Stories and News: