Thus, i offer success in the grab of supposed ground of a spun old 1970's zulu movie vc and name of peacock to.....a pair of red heads and family whom have led this attack for years....indeed, a school age thinky but also our family, a bit? alike a boxer post career spinning himself as a darts person to avoid those drunks who must try it on etc....we hide a ww1 western front moon if you wish to know....so? "first rank....fly!" "second rank...fly!" etc etc etc....

Then, something overheard that seems even more alien to the early sunburning away the fog from over my shoulder, and I realise that I am heldbetween the early glare and the figure beyond so I hopefully maintain tosurvive unseen by whatever is beyond the crest. I lift my head a little, andagain, I am certain that I have heard an inexplicable insanity. “First rank . .. fly!” Then the snookered slap of the winged rat itself? Now, to my ongoinginsult of all expectations of normality, the barrage is a continuous assault,repeated over and over. Further, held pinned within my disbelieving eyes, I nowattempt to protect myself by an innate twist of shoulder and bent arm cover-upof my brow. I begin to attempt some explanation of encounter, which now isevolving and glimpsed intermittently through this constant barrage, and my needto turn away. As more information is encountered, I adjust in my mind a littlemore, yet the inexplicable continues to perplex me as the encounter is backedas a barked set of orders, as if there

At that first blow, for it came more like a continuous Mariah, I washeld, perplexed, in an inexplicable recognition at only a shocked moment’sflash that identified with only a glimpse of that of the massed grey gardenpigeon. Now pinned within the saddle of two points of apex approaching theincline, I then dropped to the green, where my position seemed something of aflight flue that channelled both these improbable winged beasts, as well as anun-Holy siren, in harmonic pitch that was set with some bedevilled beat ofimpossibly metered drum of flight escape. Then, something overheard that seems even more alien to the early sunburning away the fog from over my shoulder, and I realise that I am heldbetween the early glare and the figure beyond so I hopefully maintain tosurvive unseen by whatever is beyond the crest. I lift my head a little, andagain, I am certain that I have heard an inexplicable insanity. “First rank . .. fly!” Then the snookered slap of the winged rat itself? Now, to my ongoinginsult of all expe

yes reverse these paragraphs-Something has struck my cheekbone, no, my entire face, no, my body hasbeen felled in an inexplicable submission–all concepts of coursing compromised,balls struck at point-blank range as an impossible comparison encounter. No?This was more a rain of blows, nay, that unseen wave upon surfacing in a swell,the shock of this first is continuous, and not solid as first presumed so as toguard, or repel, overwhelming and exhausting as much in recall and physicallyat point of encounter. I am pressed to a couched floor, perplexed, and withoutadequate experience to adjust to such an encounter, persist and strain to lifta pinned arm to check a cheek for evidence of a non-existent glancing blow. Therealization that I am held in a levelling, continuous pin and am submitted towhat feels like a glass paper attack, which has not yet been recognised. I amunable to offer anything of real resistance, not knowing  how to protect myself, or even how to offermy own panicking mind any explanation of what

Sandler hit simileereplaced by - In search of my ball on the adjacent fairway, I approach what I suspectto be another green entirely. I am not exactly aware of what lies ahead in thisthick pocket of mist, but there is a steep six-foot incline between us that Iexpect drops into something hidden behind, almost immediately, when traversed.In any case, I judge it will be an easier chip from here over the tree break todogleg approach my desired green, if I can only find that ball. I drag my buggyup that steep face, just adjacent to a soaked fairway bunker . . . “SIREN SHOCKWAVE REPULSE UNHOLY WAVE SUBMIT IMPOSSIBLY UNSEEN INABILITY OF RESIST DROP WAVEMOTHER OF GOD” . . . I AM HIT . . . drop to the ground, falling back down theincline. Something has struck my cheekbone, no, my entire face, no, my body hasbeen felled in an inexplicable submission–all concepts of coursing compromised,balls struck at point-blank range as an impossible comparison encounter. No?This was more a rain of blows, nay, that unseen wave upon s

A little tempter for the Sadler schoolers from the Second Edition of Stinky Chookster? Episode Two, mid-course-his guy appears-“Isuggest the cause of the problem is yourself, however, how often have you hadissues in your past where you feel the need to slap the back of yourhead?”“Itis bald? They are mosquitoes?”“Yes?What about involuntary slap events? Ross River Fever?”“What?No?”“Malaria?”“HUH?”“EbolaVirus?”“What?Ebola virus comes from fruit bats, doesn’t it? Where the hell? They are totallyunrelated?”“No,they’re not? Very serious you know and we could help you get off all thatscratching.You should have that checked by a doctor!”“Oneis carried by bloody mozzies, the other old bats! Where are they the same? Whatabout Old Cows Disease, you missed that one?”“Youcan see who has no medical training here? I believe that your bats areconnected to the Hendra Virus? That sir is also on the list, youknow? You appear to be a little confused, sir?”“No, its okay, only
a slap?”

If Gladesville be another smart-ass Psych snipe re myself as mad....be aware....I have a related but not direct issue to take us all to the MAINSTREAM COURTS SYSTEMS not exclusive Tribunal land....that issue a simple phone call to a Solicitor torepresent tp a Cop Front desk presentation of Specialist Solicitors Letter....ALL connecting back to a certain Appendix at it's circa 1980's or so BEGINNINGS.....MAY I SUGGEST YOU CONSULT YOUR PERSONAL SOLICITOR NOT EXCLUSIVELY YOUR BOSSES....IF YOU ARE BLINKERED ENOUGH TO SIGN....AT THIS STAGE....NOTE EVERYBODY.....my Edition Two in particular HECKLES THE CRAP OUT OF MENTAL HEALTH AND that High Profession amongst other Holy Grails....you see, "they" also do not comprehend that their inability to understand nor find any humour in themselves nor profession in general.....is also a core component of THIS HECKLE....spikes the ball right here...X

A Psycho-Social Virus written as a Receipted upload as final section of re-written Stinking Chook Second Edition? Some sort of sinister nasty? No, a marketing concept. Conceive of this....the trophy mention in my previous blog item, those background notes of 8 years of assorted dept professionals and that quite known post Dr Cynthea Cooper 2008 USA Psych systems Whistleblower inclusive of explanations of community setups, targeting, and contrived note taking re distruct and read in page long tracts over Aussie National Radio TripleJ in the period after publication.........OK, THE PSYCHO-SOCIAL VIRUS becomes....Lecturer in some Aussie University rings his mate in London, New York, wherever, those local students find the soon to be published Edition Two and tell their friends to buy and that creates a local Sales Epidemic? No? Wait until you read this Second Edition....Sandler may "require" BOTH senarios and may have a case for queue jumping?