poofer feesh and bad fishy men.

Pleese get youR reeding  glasses out!The typis is stil being lazy  so i mus type this importen story myelsf. 

Sum fishy man has been bad again. BAD! he caiught a poofer feesh and threw it riTE   into the middel of the park on the grass wheRe anyone.   could step on it or eat it. the Typis says the fishyman hoo did it mus haf been dropped on his hed when he was a baby   becaus surely no one coud be so stoopid all by himslef .

Cushion took a pikture of the poofer feesh befor he threw it away. look how big it was! 

my friend Paddy would haf been really crook if he'd eaten it,   lucky there weren;t any kiddies aroun too.

And thaty's not all! we herd that/  sum brave hUMan went to ask a fishy man if he cood  pleese trow his old bait and  hooks and lines  in the bins and not in the park because they were making us dogs sick   and guess wat happened? she got aboosed! and had to call the police! it is ahporling appoling shamefool  wat is happening in our littel  neighburhood these days,

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What is a puffer fish? >>> CLICK HERE.

Excerpt:
"Almost all pufferfish contain tetrodotoxin, a substance that makes them foul tasting and often lethal to fish. To humans, tetrodotoxin is deadly, up to 1,200 times more poisonous than cyanide. There is enough toxin in one pufferfish to kill 30 adult humans, and there is no known antidote."

Want to know what happens when a dog eats a puffer fish? >>> CLICK HERE.

Medium stone CONTINUED, Saturday 19th January.

Thanks for having a guess yesterday! I love that all of you were funny and upbeat. This makes me particularly sorry to finish writing this Stone! which happened on Thursday late afternoon, on my way to capoeira class. 

If you'd like to start at the beginning, CLICK HERE. 

WARNING!  Some !*!!f*^!!! ahead.

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"I'm on the bus," he said. "I'm on. the. bus. Why won't ya believe me?" His voice was heavy and thick. "Bus draiva!" he called out, "Tell er I'm on the bus!" I guess the driver ignored him, because he then said, "Woman! Boi! Tell er I'm on the bus! She won't believe me. Tell er!" The woman and boy must have ignored him too, because the next thing I heard was, "Tell er or I'll bite yer leg." By this time, there was some nervous fidgeting going round the bus and the bodies in front parted, just enough for me to see a man in dark clothes sitting on the floor next to the driver. I couldn't see his face. I heard a boy's voice say,"He's on the bus." Then the man, "Did ya hear that?" Then he fell silent and I think everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. After many, many seconds, "You keep the bag. Why don't ya just keep the fuckin bag." Minutes more followed of bag. Expletive. Bag. Expletive. I began to get an image in my head. Nasty break up, got thrown out, got drunk. Then, "Keep the bag mum. Keep it ya stewpid bitch." I dare say, we were all listening in by then and wishing the bus would move, just an inch, just to the corner with Sussex, just to the next stop. Eventually of course, it did. And although my stop was still up the road and round the corner, I jumped off, together with a good half of the passengers, away from the sad mad man.




Heard anything bizarre lately yourself? [Apart from the Armstrong interview.]  

To find out more about Small Stones and the 30 day mindful writing challenge, CLICK HERE.

Update.

Georgia got home about an hour and a half ago. She spent the afternoon at the vet's, sleeping off the anaesthesia. 

The x-ray showed only 1 hook. It was thankfully small.

The hook was stuck in the lining of her oesophagus, apparently quite close to her heart. If it had ruptured the oesophagus, or been a bigger hook, this story would have a different ending. The hook might have snagged her heart. Air bubbles could have formed in her chest cavity. Scar tissue would also have made it hard for her to ever eat normally again, and she would have had to be on a soft or liquid diet, antibiotics and cortisone for life. 

As it is, Dr C tried several times to remove the hook but was unable to. He was about to refer her to a specialist when Dr J asked to give it a go and managed to remove it successfully. We're so grateful to have good vets.

The endoscopic equipment they used to remove the hook.

At the moment, we can't stop talking about how irresponsible the people are, who fish in our neighbourhood. Many come from other suburbs. Yes Rose, they leave bunches of hooks, snarled lines, and tasty dried bait behind on the ground. These aren't random things they forgot or lost. They just can't be bothered. What Cushion pulled out of Georgia's mouth was a section of line with hooks tied every 15cm or so apart. A line for catching bait, he says.

A local man named Steve actually goes around collecting all this rubbish. He says he hasn't had to buy any fishing hooks in a while. That's how many he finds. Cushion was helping him this morning when Georgia snarfled hers. 

"I'm okay guys, really. Thank you for asking after me." 

What would have happened if our wonderful vets hadn't been able to remove the hook? 
Georgia would have had to undergo open chest surgery, a complicated procedure, we're told, requiring a specialist. It would have cost 7 to 9 thousand dollars. Yup. Today's procedure set us back a mere 1,123 dollars. Are we all counting ourselves lucky yet? 

I think missy is going to be doing leash walks for a while.

"I don't suppose this is a good time to ask for another slice of  bread with rhubarb jam?"

A not so small stone, Tuesday 8th January.

I woke up early to give the garden a good soaking. We're expecting a 43degree day. The cicadas were already screeching. The water from the hose hit the big leaves with a loud indescribable sound. It hit small feathery leaves with a whisper, filtering by them to soak into the ground. It gurgled as it filled the water pot with its 30 dollar moss-covered terracotta turtle in the centre. Best buy ever. Then Georgia came home from her walk.

She'd swallowed some hooks at Ballast Point park. She looked normal. Larry's mum, who was at the park, told Cushion to stuff her with white bread. Larry had swallowed a hook before. As I watered the plants, I watched Cushion feed her. He'd bought a big loaf. She swallowed each slice of the white Homebrand bread without blinking or pause. More than half the loaf was gone before he stopped, wondering if that was enough. We went into the kitchen. Cushion called Dr Dog. I called Tara and Sammy's mum. Sammy had swallowed a hook before too. She said it was best to get an x-ray done. Sammy had ended up having surgery. I offered Georgia another slice of bread. She took it with a lot less gusto. How about a lick of peanut butter on it, girl? Yum. Another 3 slices went down her throat. A bit of raspberry rhubarb jam now? She finished the rest of the loaf, crust, ends and all. She looked a bit sick, as you might expect. Dr Dog said, "Bring her in for an x-ray." And that's where she is now, as I type this. On her way to Dr Dog. Cushion has taken her. 



To find out more about Small Stones and the 30 day mindful writing challenge, CLICK HERE. 





Correction, Wednesday 9th.

I received an email from Larry's mum last night but wasn't able to post it here because our internet connection was down. It wasn't Larry who'd swallowed the hook, it was a previous dog she'd had named Rufus. My apologies! I'm pretty sure this misinformation was Cushion's fault.

Anyway, since I changed the comments setting to registered users only, a few of our friends haven't been able to post their messages directly. So here is her email:

Do hope Georgia is ok. Was alarmed to read about the whole loaf of bread! It was our old dog, Rufus, who swallowed, and passed, the fish hook, not Larry. We were in the country and the vet I called recommended grass and white bread. Rufus was smaller than Larry, but the hook came out all wrapped up in grass and didn't bother him much. We were lucky. Larry's fish hook was stuck on the inside of his mouth and I was able to get it out. Damn fishermen!

Thinking of you,
Paula and Larry xx

Thank you Laura Paula! ;)

Charity.

This is the intersection at the Queen Victoria Building, probably the biggest and busiest in the Sydney CBD. Tourists love to take pictures of the throng crossing. The little green man doesn't stay green too long and if you're old, infirm or have stinky knees like me, it's a bit of a mad rush to get across.

I wait patiently here 3 times a week, on my way to capoeira class.

The week before last, as I stood at the kerb, an unsmiling young man started weaving in and out among the bodies. He was shaking a little white bucket, muttering as he passed by, "Some money, sir? Madam?" He was moving too fast for me to make out the name of the charity he was collecting for, or the name on the tag around his neck.

I saw him do this for 3 evenings. I didn't once see anyone drop money in his bucket. I didn't either. 

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At Christmas time, requests to be charitable can be overwhelming. I find myself looking into the distance when I see volunteers approaching with their big smiles and cheery g'days. I shake my head. I indicate with my arms that I'm in a hurry and can't stop. I say, "No thank you." with a smile, and breeze on by. Sad to admit, I don't even want to know what charity they're collecting for.

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A few days ago, I finally saw someone put money in the man's bucket. A young girl. She put in a few coins. I could hear them dropping in. She was on my right a few bodies away and as I looked over, I could see she was rummaging around in her bag, looking for more loose change. I heard her say, "I'm sorry, that's all the coins I have." 

Surprising me, the man replied, "That's okay. You've given enough."

Then he must have given her something in return. I didn't see what it was because just then, the little green man popped up.

As I walked away, I heard the young girl say, "Thank you sir." Then again, shouting out a little as she must also have started crossing the road herself, "Thank you sir!" 

There was just something about that exchange that made me feel ashamed, and I can't stop thinking about it.

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All these pictures were taken yesterday and today in the vicinity of the same intersection.

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Okay, that's enough. [A diary of my attempt to outwit spam that is not ham.]

Has anyone else been getting excessive spam over the last week?

They used to go directly to the spam box but are now popping up in the comments. Out of desperation, I turned on word verification with the last post. Please tell me there's another way around it because I hate those squiggly words and numbers almost as much as spam.

How are those of you without even comment moderation keeping spam out?

Any advice would be much appreciated.


5 Hours Later. Step 1.

Thank you Jan, Kirsten, Jean, Ra, Anny and Friko for your advice.

Have removed word verification YAY! It worked though. No spam the whole night. (Of course, hardly any comments as well BWAH haha!)

Since the latest explosion of spam has all been Anonymous, I am now trialling using only Registered Users as suggested by Kirsten. Hope it works!

If anyone reading this has problems commenting, please let me know. Perhaps by email? If it sucks mightily, I shall try something else.


24 Hours Later. Amazing.

Not a single spam since I changed the setting. Not even in the spam box. It definitely works. Downside? Comments have also drastically dropped. I have no idea if it's because other people are also finding commenting too much of an effort now, or if it's seasonal. According to the stats, the number of hits has actually gone up! One of life's mysteries.

I also wonder how or if this affects Bert and Olivia and Petey, whose lovely comments always seem to end up in the spam box. Maybe they'll be kind enough to drop me a comment (or send me an email if that doesn't work) so I can find out. 

Googled Akismet (thanks Bunny and Kristine) which has some interesting reading about what spam really is. Unfortunately, Akismet doesn't seem to work with Blogger. Not for the first time, I wish I'd started blogging with Wordpress. I might try a new setting with the next post. Am in a mood to experiment. Wheeeee!


Another 15 hours has gone by.

It's been so quiet. I just published a new post and reinstated the original comments setting. BOOM! In 15 minutes, the spam came back. So no go yet. *sigh sigh sigh* I have to be patient.

Haven't found anything that allows me to close comments on older posts either, as a couple of you suggested. Could that be a wordpress feature?

Sunday.

Pic from HERE.

Didn't sleep much last night. There were parties popping all over the neighbourhood. At least that's what it sounded like. Fireworks going off. Loud music. Happy screaming. Presumably, they were halloween parties though it's still 3 sleeps to the real day.

Some people on a nearby street were having such a good time, they wanted everyone else to know. Close to midnight, some man shouted at them, bravely telling them what we all thought but were too afraid to say, behind our closed windows tossing sleepless in bed. They all shouted back, ridiculing him. The herd, drunk on cheap alcopops, or maybe expensive champers, who knows. I thought someone would call the police but no one did, so the noise went on and on and on. More drunks wandered down our little street around 3 or so, talking slurring loudly as drunks do, no doubt trying to find their way to the bus stop. I hope no one pooped on the sidewalk along the way. It's been known to happen. 

We don't do much halloween here though the marketing boys are trying their best to work kiddies and their mamas and papas into a frenzy, and it seems to be getting bigger every year. The scariest part of the whole season for me is how a cheap vege like pumpkin can suddenly cost 25 dollars. And how the lolly shelves at our local Woollies can start to look a lot like what I imagine a food store in Syria would look like these days. 

Pic from HERE.

On October 31st, you'll find us sitting very quietly in our dark house with the telly turned down, hoping that our front door will look too ominous for any sensible child to ring the doorbell. That's right. We've given up trying to give kids a head start on Type 2 diabetes. They only have themselves to blame too. Some years they would turn up all cute and scary, ready to extort candy from strangers. Other years, they would skip by us entirely. Fickle children! I might have an awfully sweet tooth for cream cakes, but I have none whatsoever for jelly beans, rocky road, gummy bears and snakes and having to consume a whole untouched bowl of them in the weeks after halloween is my personal idea of hell. 

One year a very long time ago, Cushion felt so bad when some kiddies turned up and he had nothing ready, he gave them a can of beer. [Thankfully, 1 for the lot and not 1 each.] Obviously, his brain was on vacation that night. As mine will be for the rest of the day.

A scuffle and I am wrongly accused.

Remember how I've been telling you about the nice humans in my neighbourhood? Well, I wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression that everyone here is nice because that would be a lie.

This morning, I was waiting outside Woollie's for My Cushion to buy some milk and juice.

When he came out, a human started scolding him and told him I bit her mini-human! and was a vicious dog! and should be muzzled! 

My Cushion tried to tell her that I was A Good Girl and would NEVER do something like that but she only scolded him some more. The human's Other Half (who had their own BigDog with him) told her to stop because nothing had happened and I didn't bite her mini-human but she just told him to keep quiet. Then some other human who was there said he knew me and I was The Friendliest Dog In Balmain, but she wouldn't believe him either. Then she pushed My Cushion in the chest! and some other humans had to come between them to stop the squabble.

My Cushion was very upset, and so was The Typist when he came home and told her what happened. My humans wish they knew what really happened to get the mini-human's mama so upset but since she was incoherent, I guess they'll never know.

This has made my humans even more determined to take me somewhere nice to live. I don't know where this will be. Maybe the moon.

Sadly yours, The Accused Georgia Little Pea.

Back up the rabbit hole and the lighter side.

I now realise I could never be a serious blogger and am much more comfortable writing about stuff that emit from my dog's butt. 

Pic from HERE.

It's been such a long week! I managed to write about some of the things that bother me when it comes to animals and their welfare, but nowhere near all. I don't want to continue in this vein though. [Yes. Phew.]


I could list them here but! You know, just to stir the pot a little?


So here are a few more grumbles -


+ Animals used in lab tests. How can it be okay to do tests on live animals, for whatever reason, when so many of us aren't even willing to give up our organs when we're dead?  


+ Animals in "entertainment". I'm not even talking about evil blood sports like bull, dog and cock fights here. How about more insidious ones, like greyhound races and circuses? I see on telly that an animal circus has come to Sydney town, complete with performing lions and elephants. Are we kidding?! 


+ SeaWorld. Does anyone really believe that leviathans could be happy in a big giant however gigantic a concrete pool?


Hmmm.

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I don't want this to become another thought-provoking long drawn out post that descends into arguments healthy discussions at the dinner table. No. I wouldn't want that to happen, especially at the Websters. BWAH haha! So I'm going to stop here.


That means it's time for me to thank all the intrepid souls who kept me company this week. I really appreciate that you took the time to read and to share your thoughts and experiences on this difficult subject. 


These cartoons are especially for you! I hope they give you a giggle as much as the earlier posts gave you headaches :)


The  Lighter  Side  of The  Food  Chain!

Pic from HERE.

Pic from HERE.

Above 2 pics from HERE.

Following the many food scares we had including Swine and Avian Flu and Mad Cow...

Pic from HERE.

And lastly, the vegetarian diet that might work for me.

Pic from HERE.

OH! And a little movie for the kiddies -  "Mama, what is the food chain?"

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Feeling better? 


I hope you're having a wonderful weekend. Over here in sunny suburbia, SOMEONE forgot to set the alarm for the Olympics opening ceremony this morning. Bah! 




Oops! P.S.
The next time I get a knee op and feel introspective, please be so kind as to remind me that I should just make myself a giant caipirinha and go directly to bed. 

Tchau! :) X

Bugger! P.P.S.  If you'd like to share your pet animal [welfare] peeves, please feel free to do so. I'd be keen to know I'm not the only joyless person around.

Full and difficult disclosure.

This post is inspired by Peggy 
who introduced me to Temple Grandin 

and the [somewhat oxymoronic] phrase 

"humane slaughter" 

and  by something Pamela brought up in her comment on the whales and sharks post -

"...And I also recognize that it's human (and very Western) to be horrified that Asians slaughter sharks for their fins while ignoring the chickens, turkeys, and cattle we raise and kill in huge feedlots ..."

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I've eaten some things in my life that I'm not proud of. Foie gras, shark fin soup, caviar, turtle eggs and drunken prawns are the ones I most regret.


I've also had the opportunity to try meats that are perhaps not so commonly found on the home dinner plate [at least here in suburban Sydney] including wild boar, buffalo, goat, kangaroo, frog, crocodile, snake, reindeer and bat. I've had bunny stifado in Greece, balut in the Philippines, piranha soup in the Amazon and escargo in San Fran. Of all of these, the snails were the hardest for me to swallow.


I personally wouldn't be able to eat horse, dog, cat, whale, insects, turtles or witchetty grubs [to name a few] but those are just my sensibilities. I don't ever want to be judgemental about people who do eat them and cultural preferences in diet. One man's  hákarl is another man's meat pie.


What I am concerned about is how we manage, kill, cook or eat animals and in some cases, these can be pretty horrific.


I believe cruelty in preparing animals for our table has been going on a long time, knows no geographical boundaries, and will likely continue till the end of days.


Here's an excerpt from an interview with Heston Blumenthal, talking about some [alleged] historical recipes.

"In another example, the French would pluck a live chicken, brush the skin with saffron, wheat germ and drippings, then put the head under the belly, and rock the chicken to sleep. The live chicken was then placed on a platter with two cooked chickens, carried to the table and the cooked chickens carved as the live one ran wildly around – theater on the table.

The most disturbing recipe I've ever seen is for "how to roast a goose alive" from The Cook's Oracle from the late 1800s. It's written almost in biblical style, and it's really disturbing. The idea is that you've cooked the goose’s skin but the vital organs are still working, and you carve the goose while it can still scream." 

Here's the full recipe and it's not for the faint-hearted.


“How To Roast A Goose Alive.”
Take a goose, or a duck, or some such lively creature (but a goose is best of all for such purpose), pull off all her feathers, only the head and neck must be spared, then make a fire round about her, not too close to her, that the smoke do not choke her, and that the fire may not burn her too soon; nor too far off, that she may not escape fire: within the circle of the fire let there be set small cups and pots full of water wherein salt and honey are mingled, and let there be set also chargers full of sodden apples, cut into small pieces in the dish. The goose must be all larded and basted over with butter, to make her the more fit to be eaten, and may roast the better: put then fire about her, but do not make too much haste, when you see her beginning to roast; for by walking about, and flying here and there, being cooped in by the fire that stops her way out, the unwearied goose is kept in;^[1] she will fall to drink the water to quench her thirst, and cool her heart, and all her body, and the apple-sauce will make her dung, and cleanse and empty her. And when she roasteth, and consumes inwardly, always wet her head and heart with a wet sponge; and when you see her giddy with running, and begin to stumble, her heart wants moisture, and she is roasted enough. Take her up, set her before your guests, and she will cry as you cut off any part from her, and will be almost eaten up before she be dead. It is mighty pleasant to behold!!!

The eating of animals that aren't dead is something that happens every day in the wild and in our backyard. It's the food chain at work. Unlike The Other Half, I don't bleat and switch channels when I see lions on Discovery, tearing into a wildebeest whose legs are still twitching. 


The eating of live animals was a staple "attraction" on Fear Factor, [and if I remember correctly] early seasons of Survivor and some episodes of that show with the man who teaches us how to survive alone in the wild while being trailed by a production crew. 


My 2 cents on this is that eating live animals for entertainment is not cool, even if they're at the bottom of the food chain, are slimy and disgusting, and have [apparently] been scientifically proven to feel no pain.

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I had an exhausting day yesterday, googling ways in which we humans eat and prepare food for our table. Some of these methods were entirely new to me. I was going to include links, pictures and videos here, but I don't think I want to any more. 


Maybe I am a bleeding heart after all.

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Years ago, when The Other Half was regularly diving, I saw a video on a dive club night about some villagers in Flores, Indonesia who still use traditional methods of harvesting whales for food. They are exempted from the international ban on whaling.


I found a video of a hunt on youtube to share here. It's in Indonesian so you might not understand it, but the footage is worth seeing. CLICK HERE if you want to read about it first [might be helpful to get some background]. Disturbingly, it seems to have become an item on the tourist itinerary.


Watch with an open mind. Don't watch if you're squeamish.





No questions today, but I'd love to know what you're thinking.

Whales, sharks and more bloody questions.

I went whale watching on a friend's boat recently. It was a beautiful morning. The humpbacks were feeling friendly and it took less than an hour to sight a pod. One of them breached quite close to our boat.


Sighting of a blow. Can you see Sydney in the background?

I only managed to catch the whale on its way back down. 

And as it waved goodbye.

I wish I could say I took this picture of a humpback. Alas, it's from HERE.


We're very serious about whale conservation in Australia and rightly so.


But did you know that many sharks are also protected in Australia and around the world? 


How on earth did a top predator of the ocean become an endangered species requiring protection? If you have some time, a strong stomach, and are interested in finding out,  CLICK HERE for the Pew Report.

This scary pic from HERE. Quite a few species are listed as threatened including everyone's favourite set of jaws.

There was sadly another fatal shark attack in WA, just 11 days ago [which is probably why I've been thinking about today's topic]. In these situations, a hunt is usually called to find the rogue animal. In this case, almost immediately, the protected species status of the great white came into question. There was some concern that tourists might be too afraid to go to the beach. 


Informal polls and comments on news reports, facebook and blogs however, seem to indicate that most people would like to see the great white's protected status maintained.

Check out this timeline of shark attacks in Australian waters over the last decade.


While the number of attacks appear to have increased of late, the average fatality in Australia over the last 50 years, has been less than 1 human per year. 


I think I may have more chance of being killed stepping out onto a pedestrian crossing on Darling Street.


By comparison, guess how many sharks get killed in a year? According to the Pew Report above, about 73 million. I don't even know how you can count a number like that.

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I get disturbed when I read this sort of stuff. There's a lot of noise in my head and I find it difficult to organize it into coherent sentences. It took me the better part of an hour to word the 3 questions below and I expect my thoughts on the subject will be contentious and unpopular. But here goes anyway.

Should maintaining our comfort, safety and way of life always take precedent over that of animals, even endangered ones? [I don't think so.]


Do you think we discriminate when it comes to [protecting] animals and are partial to saving cute ones? [I do.]


Do you think it does any good to hunt down and kill an animal that has killed a human? [I don't, unless it can be proven that the animal's action was pre-meditated.]

What are YOUR thoughts? And do you have other questions yourself?

^

^

"Yeah I do! Anyone want to know if I'm still farting?"

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2 helpful reads before you next get in the water. 


+ 10 myths about sharks by Valerie Taylor.
2. TRUE: Sharks are attracted to swimming dogs

Sharks’ curiosity attracts them to any unusual creature in their environment. A small animal like a dog is more likely to be considered prey than a big animal. 

+ 13 tips for avoiding a shark attack.
11. Avoid swimming or surfing at dawn, dusk or night. These are typically the feeding times for a lot of sharks.


And look what I found when I googled "are cute animals better protected than ugly dangerous ones"


+ THIS ARTICLE.


Excerpt:

He set out to describe what attributes make animals attractive to humans. The successful candidate will exhibit:

• Usefulness (providing humans with food, clothing or medicine);
• Human-like traits, such as having a high forehead and expressive eyes and being a mammal, or at least a vertebrate;
• Be large and fierce. For some reason we like dangerous animals, and are fascinated with their weapons, from teeth to horns. (Watch any kid in the dinosaur gallery.) Small thinks this may explain the fact that tigers are the kings of global conservation efforts;
• It must live above ground, preferably in a family setting showing off the mother with adorable cubs or kittens (one Toronto conservationist calls such animals “the cuddlies”);
• It should not smell bad;
• It helps to be warm-blooded;
• Bright colours also help while being covered with scales, or a slimy skin, is bad;
• Attractive animals eat “clean” food. We don’t like scavengers and carrion-pickers;
• Traits that are unhealthy in humans should be avoided. We have little urge to conserve animals with warts, bow legs, wrinkles (except for elephants), irregular teeth or a habit of drooling.

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For what it's worth, my instructions to the Other Half, if I should get attacked or killed by a wild animal, is to let it be. He's left the same instructions with me. [We like being prepared for 1-in-a-squillion chance events.]


The person that runs me over at a pedestrian crossing however, won't get away with it that easily.


By the way, I. am. not. anthropomorphic. or. a. bleeding. heart. [Though I do like sniffing trees.] And it's okay if you're now thinking I'm simplistic, unrealistic and delusional. I already know that. 


Have a good day! :) X