A man on my street decided to remove a wasp nest himself, at night, and four neighbors came outside to watch.
Nobody was invited. They arrived because the ladder came out. The ladder is the signal.
I asked what the plan was.
He said, "Spray it and run."
I asked what the second part of the plan was.
He said, "Running."
I want to record the assembled force. One man on a ladder holding a can. One man at the base of the ladder holding nothing and contributing nothing. Two men in the driveway at a distance of perhaps fifteen meters, both holding beverages, neither of them prepared to move. One woman on a porch who told me she had asked him to hire somebody eleven days ago.
I offered to assist. I said that no man should stand alone beneath an enemy position at night, that I had no fear of the creatures, and that I would hold the base of the ladder so that he might commit fully to the assault.
He said, "Yeah, you're gonna wanna be over there."
He pointed at the driveway. At the men with the beverages.
I went over there.
He sprayed. The nest responded. He came down the ladder in a manner that cannot accurately be described as climbing, and the ladder went one way and he went the other, and both of them arrived on the grass.
Then he ran. He ran past all four of us. He did not warn us, and I understand now that warning us was never part of it, because the plan was running, and the plan was for him.
The two men with beverages ran. The woman on the porch went inside and closed the door with a firmness I noted at the time.
I did not run.
I want to be clear that this was not courage. I did not run because I had not yet understood the situation. I understood it approximately two seconds later, and by then the matter had been decided on my behalf.
I was stung twice. He was stung eleven times.
We drank a beer in his garage afterward with the door down, which is apparently what one does, and he told me his father had once used gasoline for this and his uncle had used a firework, and that both men were fine.
The nest is still there.
He says he got it.
He did not get it.
Watching the us/turkya game on @FOXSports Up to first waterbreak, this is the worst game calling I have ever heard. Almost nothing on play by play. Just North Korean style gushing about the "meaning" of the game. Call the game!
Keith the Apocalypse Bringer is a three-year-old Anglo-Nubian goat in a field in Devon.
Keith should not be underestimated.
Keith has been systematically dismantling the ecosystem since approximately 7am, when he ate a bramble. This is significant because bramble is an invasive scrub species that outcompetes wildflowers, reduces biodiversity, and creates dense monoculture thicket that nothing else can use.
Keith ate it. Keith does this every day. Keith does not charge for this service.
8:15am - Keith ate a thistle. Thistles are also considered invasive scrub in managed pasture. Goldfinches eat thistle seeds, but Keith's grazing will ensure the pasture remains open enough for the ground-nesting birds that can't use dense scrub. Keith has not attended a conservation workshop. Keith arrived at this conclusion by being a goat.
9:00am - Keith dismantled a section of hedge. This was less helpful. Keith does not have a perfect record.
10:30am - Keith escaped the field. He was in the road for eleven minutes. He ate a neighbour's rose. This is not being counted in Keith's environmental impact assessment.
11:00am - Keith was returned to the field. Keith regarded the farmer with the specific expression of an animal that does not recognise the concept of property.
12:00pm - Keith ate more bramble. His digestive system: four stomachs, a rumen full of specialised microorganisms, the ability to extract nutrition from lignified plant matter that would defeat any other animal on this field, is converting scrub vegetation into milk with a fat content of approximately 4.5%. The milk will become cheese. The cheese will be sold at the farm shop. The farm shop is four miles away. The cheese food miles are: four.
3:00pm - Keith produced manure. The manure will grow the grass. The grass will grow the bramble. The bramble will be eaten by Keith.
This system has no inputs.
It has been running since goats were domesticated approximately ten thousand years ago.
Keith is not aware he is saving the planet.
Keith is thinking about whether the fence on the north side has a weak point.
It does. Keith found it at 4:45pm.
Keith got out again.
@SamaHoole A brilliant rethinking of peasants and their gruel. Two minutes’ reading have revised my mental narrative of this period and others. Including our own. Well done, Sir,
300 French army officer cadets (EMAC) singing the 🇫🇷 anthem 'la Marseillaise' in the Douaumont Ossuary, eastern France.
This modern French ossuary contains the jumbled bones of 130,000 WW1 soldiers.
#WW1#France#Verdun
I'm the only independent journalist to cover the Iran nuclear deal on the ground in Vienna and IAEA/UN.
This is the full story about Iran's nuclear program and who sabotaged diplomacy.
No more lies by Trump, Netanyahu and Piers Morgan.