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Actually, I heard this voice.

J Meanwhile, just to your north:

1944 Indian brochure (WWII still in progress):

Y'all need to hire a few Cajins , they will cook em , right tasty for Y'all CB

Naked, against my will and crying.

Pierre and Christos were discussing their heritage Christos said, “Greeks invented sex.” ‘’Pierre replied, “Yes but the French, we got women involved.”

Don't be ridiculous, that's why the red light is always on top and the green light on the bottom.

MESSAGES Marnie held the pearl-grey pigeon in one cupped hand, stroked it gently with the other: she waited until the message was slipped into the rolled-up tube on its leg, then looked around with a smile. "Gentlemen," she called, "are we ready?" Men in formal attire nodded, murmured their assent; men in less formal attire checked bulky watches, stood ready to note the exact moment when the race began. "Gentlemen of the Clock," Marnie called, "are you coordinated?" Three men looked up from their bank of precision, mechanical timepieces; two more stood ready, fingers gripping the black, gutta-percha buttons on their telegraph keys. "The race will begin," Marnie called, lowering her double handful of homing pigeon, "in three, two, one, LOOSE!" Marnie tossed her bird gently in the air: hands turned levers, spring-loaded boxes snapped open, a cloud of pigeons soared into the air, circled, then streamed away, a living, whistling cloud, each with an identifier on its leg: Marnie's was the only one to carry an actual message cylinder. Marnie laughed like a delighted little girl, bouncing on her toes and pattering lace-gloved hands together: her gown was a rich, shimmering blue, she wore a top hat with a back veil and the glowing, healthy expression of a mother-to-be, who was delighted with her place in the world around her. This was one of the worlds where technology developed slowly: isolated, progress had to start from scratch, with the crudest of foundries, with words scribed like ancient Babylonian cuneiform, on thin-rolled clay tablets: men with knowledge of such things, managed to make paper -- crude at first, then better, and Marnie's gifts of reams of paper, of actual notebooks, of pencils and bottles with "India Ink" boldly painted on their sides, was welcomed with greater pleasure than if she'd handed out polished gemstones and shining bars of precious metals. Ambassador Marnie Keller expressed her delight at the telegraphers' skill: she took her turn at the key, and though much slower than their practiced speed, her "fist" was quite clear, her accuracy was absolute; her quick ear allowed her to decode the fastest among them -- and the telegraphers, having nothing more to do after announcing the start of the race to their respective lines of stretched copper, shining across the town and the miles beyond, clustered around her and quietly voiced their approval of this famous Ambassador who cared to sit down with them, and share their profession. The Ambassador stood at the podium, one foot up on a low block -- it helped her maternal back to stand with one foot up, as if she were using the foot rail at a bar -- she looked at dignitaries, officials, at the cluster of telegraphers (she gave them a wink, and every last one of them grinned like a delighted schoolboy) -- "Gentlemen, the best speech I ever heard was also the briefest. This won't be the best you've heard, but it'll be in the top ten!" Her quick smile, the light nature of her words, brought quiet laughter and immediate approval from the audience. "Communication is essential. Redundancy makes the essential, work. Today we saw both the telegraph, and the pigeon, working and working very well." She smiled, looked around, sweeping pale eyes over the entire assemblage. "Why is that important? "I've stood in the ruin of what used to be a community. Fire, tornado, storm, flood, earthquake, disasters will tax our best plans and find every weak place in those plans, of our best preparations. "If a community was devastated from a failed dam, telegraph lines might be broken, but carrier pigeons can still get through. A heliograph" -- she turned, asked an adjutant, "Did I bring mine? -- oh, thank you!" -- a mirrored device on a collarbone-high tripod was brought quickly up, stood beside her. "You're familiar with the brass key. You're probably familiar with this also." She turned it, shot a beam of sunlight at a far wall. "It operates just like a telegraph key. This was used by the military for centuries" -- she gripped the handle, tilted it: it gave a quiet click as she tilted it, as the sun's beam raised and fell -- "over a distance, the flashes are seen for miles. Yes, it is dependent on sunlight, but it's something you can set up. You can even try this" -- she turned, murmured "May I borrow your hat?" -- then she turned, dropped the hat over the mirror, slid the hat back and forth to flash the message against the opposite wall. "A mirror and a hat. That's all you need." Marnie handed the hat back, turned to the audience again. "Infantry school teaches us 'Shoot, scoot and communicate.' Gentlemen, today we used two methods of communication. If you take nothing else home with you, take this: Have a good commo, have a backup for the good commo, and if possible, have a backup for that one too!" She looked at her adjutant, turned back to the audience. "One minute forty seconds and that concludes my remarks!" An hour later, Marnie smiled as a grey pigeon was pointed out to her. "She wasn't the fastest," the handler said quietly, "but of all my girls, she is the one most dependable!" Marnie smiled, looked at the quiet-voiced young man with the flat cap and faded bib overalls. "I'll take dependable any day of the week!"

𝟮𝟭 𝗙𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗔𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗮. 1. The Australian Alps get more snow than the Swiss Alps. 2. 90% of Australians live on the coast. 3. Tasmania has the cleanest air in the world. 4. The Great Barrier Reef is the largest ecosystem in the world. It is made up of nearly 3,000 individual reefs and can be seen from space. 5. Australia has over 60 separate wine regions. 6. Fraser Island in QLD is the largest sand island in the world. 7. The Indian Pacific train has the longest straight section of train track in the world. 8. The Great Ocean Road is the world's largest war memorial. 9. 80% of Australian animals are unique to Australia. 10. Australia has the world's longest golf course measuring more than 1,350 kms long. 11. Australia is home to 21 of the world's 25 most venomous snakes. 12. It would take around 29 years to visit one new Aussie beach every day – there are 10,685 of them! 13. Australia is the 6th largest country in the world. 14. 91% of the country is covered by native vegetation. 15. 33% of Australians were born in another country. 16. Australia is the only continent in the world without an active volcano. 17. Australia is home to the longest fence in the world, the Dingo Fence. Originally built to keep dingos away from fertile land, the fence is now 5,614 km long. 18. The Australian dollar is considered to be the most advanced currency in the world – its waterproof, made of polymer and notoriously hard to counterfeit. 19. Australia is the only continent covered by a single country. 20. The world's oldest fossil was discovered in Australia – 3.4 billion years old. 21. Australia is home to more than 1,500 species of spiders.

I just realized that's a turban. Every other time I've seen that picture I thought it was a bra.

1925 Indian Scout 600cc 2 cyl sv - V-twin motorcycle After WW I the Indian factory decided it was time to market a somewhat lighter model than the 1000cc Powerplus. The new model was labelled “Scout” and it created a sensation when brought out in 1920. The strong points of the new design were easy handling, lightness, ample power for the 1920s roads and unbeatable reliability. The new middleweight was also appealing to the prospective motorcyclists who were put off by the usual heavyweight big twins. The Scout features a semi-unit construction power plant with a 3 –speed transmission bolted on to it. Primary drive is by a set of helical gears that are enclosed in a cast aluminium cover and run in an oil bath. The clutch is foot-controlled. There a quite a few new features for the 1925 season: removable cylinder heads, larger valves, improved clutch with greater plate area and a different type of saddle suspension to insure greater riding comfort and lower riding position. For better engine breathing wider valve cam profiles are utilised. The 1925 brochure contains a power chart that shows a 20% power increase for the 1925 Scout as compared to the 1924 model: max power is now 13 HP3500 rpm.

Admit it when you read this it was in this voice.

You got the wrong attitude. I don't see how more tax money would do anything about the oil, but --- By paying more taxes, we allow the government to prevent another ice age, prevent acid rain, and save both the ozone layer and the ice caps. Thank you government, for saving us by spending our money.

NEVER ask a Cajin , "what be in the pot ?" just eat , ya might NOT want to know CB

10% rabbits, 10% feral house cats.

The other 20% are mostly rabbits.

FAST, TOO FAST! Sheriff Linn Keller brought in four white, waxed-paper sacks: one he set on his dispatcher's desk blotter, set a second beside that one, handed the other two to the off-going midnight deputy and swung pale eyes to the coffee pot. The deputy grinned and set the two sacks by the coffee pot. The Sheriff picked up one of the sacks he'd just set down, carried it back to his office: he went in, set the sack on his own green desk blotter, then came back out and headed for the coffee pot, smiling. Sharon swung around in her swivel chair, gave the Sheriff a speculative look, stood. Linn turned toward her: he took her off hand, held it out, ran his other arm around her waist, waltzed for a few moments -- Sharon was an excellent dancer, as was the Sheriff -- and two grinning deputies genuinely regretted a Strauss waltz was not playing in the background. The Sheriff bowed, his dispatcher curtsied, then both straightened and laughed. "I dance better in heels," Sharon sighed, "but these are comfortable!" "Mama liked 'em," Linn grinned. "Coffee?" "Yes thank you, two fingers of Irish." Linn laughed -- it was an old joke between the two of them -- after a particularly bad day, years ago, Linn went into his office, brought out a bottle of good high grade Irish whiskey and poured them both two fingers' worth. Truth be told, they both needed it; neither spoke of the day afterward, save in the formal debrief and in the hearings that followed, for the day involved events which were made all the more shocking by the extreme rarity with which such events occurred. "If you were younger," Sharon said speculatively, "I would make some comment about your wife putting a smile on your face this morning." She waggled her eyebrows lecherously, tapping the ash from a non-existent cigar and leering as she did. Linn laughed. "Oh, the ladies made me happy, all right," he agreed, pouring coffee for both, "but it was my little girl that put the smile on my face!" Sharon put splayed fingertips to her bodice and threw her head back with a shocked look of absolutely exaggerated, theatrical dismay: "Sheriff!" Linn handed her a steaming mug of Fire the Boiler, added a drizzle of milk as she held it. "Victoria," he sighed, "was Irish dancing on the front porch -- hardshoe, like tap, only better -- and singing 'Katyusha' in Russian!" He shook his head, laughed again, sighed. "I didn't realize her dance shoes have a little heel on 'em." His eyes softened and he looked a little sad as he added, "Sharon, she's growin' up fast! How'd this happen so quick?" Dr. John Greenlees lifted his chin as his pale eyed wife tugged gently at his necktie, as she patted his chest, as she looked approvingly up at her husband. "My father prefers the Windsor knot," she smiled, "and you tie a Windsor beautifully!" "It's better than that narrow cockeyed old man's knot," John sighed, remembering his own father's struggles with the decorative neck-stranglers. "Stand back. Let me look at you." Dr. John Greenlees stepped back, stepped again, turned, arms out a little. "Well?" Marnie tilted her head a little, smiled, laid a hand on her maternal belly. "Doctor," she said, "it's no wonder I am in a family way." Dr. John Greenlees swept up to his wife, took her carefully in his arms, kissed her delicately, gently. "Mrs. Doctor," he whispered, "may I have this dance?" A lean physician in a tailored, old-fashioned black suit, and a pale eyed woman in a tailored McKenna gown, waltzed together in the privacy of their quarters, while a pale eyed little boy watched, and remembered. "I don't think I've ever heard her sing." The Sheriff was parked on a folding tin chair, pulled up close to the dispatcher's desk. "She won't sing in public," the Sheriff sighed. "Even in church, she hides her voice. I wish she'd let it out more often, Sharon. She sings like Angela." Sharon lowered her mug a quarter of an inch, looked across steaming ceramic at the Sheriff. "If she sings better than Angela," she said quietly, "she's pretty damned good!" Michael smiled a little as he drew. He lifted his pencil, leaned back, smiled. His twin sister was on the page, dancing: she was in mid-step and in mid-turn, her skirt was flared, her hair was loose and floating as she spun: one leg down, turning on the ball of her right foot, her left leg drawn up and her foot pointed, both arms up, wrists bent girlishly back, and a look of absolute, utter delight on her face. Michael drew her as he'd seen her, earlier that day. She'd sneaked into her Mama's bedroom and put on her Mama's heels -- which, to her delight, fit her now. Victoria celebrated by skipping out of her Mama's bedroom and into the broad open area between the bedrooms. She pulled the rug quickly aside, raised her arms like a ballerina, and began to dance. Michael looked at the eggshell textured, acid free paper, and smiled. He was not often satisfied with his own work. This one ... this, satisfied him. Sheriff Linn Keller frowned a little at his glowing screen. He had a love-hate with budget work: on the one hand, there were absolutes -- this is what he had available, this is what things cost, facts, figures, clear boundaries, the lack of ambiguity of a ledger sheet. On the other hand, he detested having to project costs, estimate expenses. He not infrequently muttered as he worked -- "I throw it out on the air," he explained, "so I can see how it sounds!" -- and as he consulted references, as he called up additional pages on his screen, he complained again at the cost of supplies, at the increase in pricing on everything, and the lack of any increase in available funding. He was at the task until noon, when he leaned back, rubbed his closed eyes, then opened the white-paper sack he'd set on his desk that morning. He'd gotten a sandwich at Daisy's kitchen, over in the Silver Jewel, and after a hard morning of budget work, he was about starved out. That night, after supper, Linn asked Michael to join him. The two retired to Linn's study, and spoke quietly: Shelly smiled as they did. Not long after, Linn asked Victoria to join him. When Victoria emerged, she looked a little uncertain, but not at all unhappy. That night, as husband and wife lay together, staring at the nighttime ceiling, Linn murmured, "I had a talk with the twins." Shelly's hand tightened in his to let him know, without words, that she was listening. "I told Michael I'm pretty damned proud of him, and I went down a list of things I'd noticed -- particular things -- then I told him other things I'd seen, things like how neatly it's trimmed around every foundation, how the gravel is bladed back into the driveway right along regular and how I didn't do it and he's the only one that could have, and how I appreciated how responsible he'd chosen to be." Shelly squeezed his hand again. Linn was silent for several moments. "It's harder talking to Victoria." Shelly waited. "She's developing, Shelly." You're just noticing? Shelly smiled, but said nothing. "She used to be a little girl," Linn whispered, swallowed. "I know I saw this with Marnie and Angela both, but I... I dunno." He was quiet for longer this time. "Maybe I thought the youngest would ... stay a little girl longer." Shelly felt her husband take a long breath, blow it out through pursed lips. "Now I know why he said it," he whispered. "Who said it?" Shelly asked. "What did he say?" Linn rolled over, gathered his wife in his arms, held her tight, tight, the way a man will when he doesn't want some memorable moment to escape. "Fast," Linn whispered into her hair, his breath warm in her pink-scrubbed ear: "too fast!"

Aw crap! I just snorked coffee on that!