Homeless Man Uses Lizard's Crypsis Strategies

A homeless man has adapted lizards use of crypsis, that of the ability to camouflage themselves into a given environment. In this photograph we see what appears at first presumption to be a discarded newspaper. Look closer and you will see the outline of a homeless man brilliantly appropriating the technology of the lizards. David Icke has no yet commented on this sensational story.

Some Strange Things I Saw Today

When an Owl becomes a Rat

Walk to the Shop

Teen Gran

The Friendly Society

Ever Sleep In A Wine Cask?

The airplane was musty, and everyone around me was either senile or butt ugly. There was a women of middle age, opposite me who gave me eyes, and I gave her eyes back, I was too bored to refuse her flirtations. And besides she wasn't too bad looking for someone as old as oak. I would be so lucky to look like anything resembling her human face by the time my drug use catches up and decides to live in my skin. We got into conversation and she told me that her  boyfriend had ditched her and upgraded to first class, I chuckled and said 'Oh but we are on first class, so looks like he lost out' she patted by knee with a beaming smile, that made lots of wrinkles crawl out from under her nose and above her mouth. Which kind of turned me on. 

I arrived at my hotel which was wonderful, like something out of Asterix and Obelix, the rooms were made from four wine casks that had previously held 14, 500 liters of Beaujolais wine. Birthplace of the casks-a French chateau. I got a two-person room as my girlfriend was arriving tomorrow, but I had the room to myself tonight. Oh I forgot to mention where am I? I am in Stavoren, a quaint port town painted by the stories of the the mystical Lady of Syavoren .

That is the Lady of Stavoren from behind. I do not know anything about her because I am not a travel book kind of guy, but I wanted to take her back to the hotel room and get stoned with her, but I knew the authorities here were not to be messed with. So I was a good boy and went to a strip club instead where I met Mindy, an American who somehow ended up her in the land of clogs and windmills. She looked like Julia Roberts but not as ugly and without the onionskin.  She told me some story about owing someone money and hiding out for a bit. I just kept nodding, and then signaled to her that we should leave. So we left and went back to the Wine Cask. How I love saying that. But not before we got a few bottles of wine. Every time I was in the Wine Cask room I wanted to fill it with wine; imagine floating in wine, the sensations, the inebriation, the beautiful mermaids. My girlfriend arrived a little early and caught me with the Mindy, but we have an open relationship, so she joined in the morning sessions of casual sex and drugs. It got a bit boring after a while so I popped out for a milkshake in MacDonalds, tasted lovely, strawberry flavour I think. Overall it was a very nice trip.

Rhino Horns Worth More Than Gold!

If we travel to South Africa we will find more than 90 percent of the world's rhino population.

The northern white rhino is an endangered mega-vertebrate on earth more so than any other mega-vertebrate. They almost went extinct in the 19th century, with at one point only 20 remaining. Some Rhino facts from the basket of http://www.outtoafrica.nl/

Swahili Name:	Faru
Scientific Name:	Black (Diceros bicornis), white (Ceratotherium simum)
Size:	About 60 inches at the shoulder
Weight:	1 to 11/2 tons (black rhino), over 2 tons (white rhino)
Lifespan:	35 to 40 years
Habitat:	Grassland and open savannas
Diet:	Vegetarian
Gestation:	16 months
Predators:	Humans

In China rhino's horn are believed to be essential for Chinese herbal medicines, of course in the West many test have shown it has no medical benefit whateverso. Ounce for ounce, rhino horns are worth more than gold, which has lead to the worst poaching of African rhinos in decades. Here is a photo of Horn Febrifugal tablets:

Sex Boxes To Be Introduced In Switzerland

Switzerland seems to be very open when it comes to sex, judging by this billboard at a train station. To keep prostitution from the streets, the Zurich municipal authorities have devised a plan to limit prostitutes to three zones, where booths will be set up for the prostitutes and their customers to erm *cough* do business. The city council are expecting these to be implemented and come into law on Jan. 1, 2012.

The council also mentioned that they were looking into ways to advise and inform the compliant prostitutes by direct communication, with new regulations to create a form of licenses required to 'prostitute' peacefully, if that is even a transitive verb!

The construction of 10 booths are planned in Altstetten as a kind of trial run, more will be built if it is successful. The newly established Altstetten prostitution zone will be monitored and maintained by social services, plans which are already on their way for the design and creation of the sex boxes are signaled to be ready for the spring of 2012.

'Sexy' Ad Banned In India

India's Information and Broadcasting Ministry made a statement saying the ad violated India's advertising code. The Secretary General of the Advertising Standards Council of India, a voluntary industry self-regulation group, said in part defense of sexy ads “Any visual that is not likely to cause grave or widespread offense is not a cause of concern. Most of these deodorant ads are played after 11pm on TV, outside family viewing timing"

World Malaria Day 2011

Approximately half of the world's population is at risk of malaria. The theme of the fourth World Malaria Day - Achieving Progress and Impact - heralds the international community's renewed efforts to make progress towards zero malaria deaths by 2015.

Here is a short cartoon about treating malaria which is also inadvertently funny:

Here are 10 tips to prevent malaria courtesy of http://doctor.ndtv.com:

1. Avoid mosquito bites by wearing protective clothing over the arms and legs, using mosquito nets and screens, and insect repellents (cream, lotion, spray or vaporizer).
2. Anti-malarial drugs can be prescribed for visitors to areas where malaria is prevalent. Treatment should begin two weeks before entering the area, and continued for 4 weeks after leaving the area.
3. Sleep in rooms that are properly screened with gauze over the windows and doors. There should be no holes in the gauze and no unscreened entry points to the room. Air-conditioned rooms are good, too.
4. Wear light colours while going out afternoon as light colours are less attractive to mosquitoes.
5. Use bednets when sleeping in areas infested with mosquitoes.
6. Use insecticides and flying insect sprays to reduce the number of mosquitoes in areas where you will be spending a significant amount of time.
7. When possible, avoid camping or spending prolonged amounts of time in areas where standing water is present.
8. Keep pots and pans emptied of water. Open vessels for drinking water should be covered. Mosquitoes use areas of standing water to lay their eggs.
9. If you know you will be traveling in areas where malaria is prevalent, ask your doctor for anti-malarial drugs.
10. Pregnant women should avoid travelling to malarious regions as it increases the risk of abortion, premature birth, still-birth and maternal death.

THE 12: AKA THE GREATEST BUS IN THE WORLD

There’s nothing quite like London transport to rectify whatever qualms one may have toward personal space or hygiene. One such significant mode of travel, which has carried me loyally throughout the scum riddled squalor of London, has also brought me some bizarre and wonderful experiences. These experiences are what I like to call the “misadventures of the 12”.

The 12 has featured in many lives and impacted so much so on one London visitor’s life, that they rated it no. 8 in their personal list of 16 Awesome Hidden Gems of London. Indeed the 12 is a diamond in the rough (I mean that quite literally, it frequently likes to deposit its passengers, terminating on High Street Peckham, abandoning them without a leg to stand on because the drunken pervert next them licked his lips and touched their knee, thus revolting them to the extent of the amputation of said knee in favour of remaining STI free).

Upon the 12 I have also enjoyed the epic monologues of the fanatically religious. Some of them murmur with an eerie persistence, other wail and shout because they can see that you are peacefully enjoying your quiet trip home. This peacefulness is often misconstrued as bordem and GOD FORBID should one be board on the 12. It’s not like you are entitled to any privacy or any rights at all for that matter when you’re on the 12 bus. The only right that you can justly exercise is the right to the freedom of speech, at whatever volume you deem it necessary.  You also have the right to stare at someone long enough to make them feel severely uncomfortable, you also have the right to exercise your freedom of speech not only when you are densely inebriated but also when you are clinically insane. (Many of London’s mentally ill enjoy a good old chatter with themselves on our beloved no. 12).

Once I made a friend on the 12. He hopped on shortly after me on Regents Street and declared to the bus’s population that he didn’t give a shit whether we believed in God because it meant that there was more room in Heaven for him (religious nutjob). Although I thoroughly appreciated his commentary seeping through my headphones which were at full volume, I decided to gracefully decline his rantings and hop off at the next stop to catch the following bus (The no.12 is superbly efficient.)  I’m on the next bus and a few stops later who pops on but my old friend from the previous 12! LUCKY ME! So up I leap to get off and he quite generously threatened the bus driver with his own life to allow me off (severe case of lunacy). I thought that was very kind.

The 12 also has the most unique blend of fragrances with a mix of warm body odour, strange unidentifiable ethnic cuisine, alcohol stench, weed stench and interestingly toxic hair/ weave treatment. It’s really very special. Also, if you like to get all up and personal, why not take a trip on the 12, especially when it’s really hot and at peak traffic time. I mean, I managed to have a teenage girl’s vagina rest on my shoulder and a well hung rack of tits graze my cheek several times this evening! A woman bent down to pick up her shopping bags and gave a gentleman a blowjob without either of them noticing. I think it’s fair to say that we all had a spiffing good time on this truly English adventure.

Nightclub Deaths: Fireworks, Massacre, Red Bull And Drugs

Like Brett and Jemaine from Flight of the Conchords in this clip, a nightclub can be a merry time.When you are sipping your vodka and coke or getting jiggy with it on the dancefloor you would not think of graveyards, yet every year hundreds of people in nightclubs all over the world die. If you are unlucky it can be a real war zone and not just from binging and puking your guts or assholes starting fights.

A few causes of Nightclub tragedies:

This is Chloe Leach, a third-year social work student, she drank four cans of Red Bull and wine before hitting a club. Later on that night she collapsed on the dance-floor. RIP Chloe.

A celebrity death here is a detailed account of River Phoenix's death at a night club:

A few minutes before 1 AM (Halloween morning), River had been in the bathroom of The Viper Room, a club owned by Johnny Depp at 8852 Sunset Boulevard, doing drugs with some drug dealer friends and someone offered him a snort of high-grade Persian Brown. He was told it would make him feel fabulous. As soon as he snorted it he started trembling and shaking in front of the sink, screamed at his friend and then vomited. Someone tried to help by splashing cold water on his face and then gave him a Valium. (Nothing helps someone O.D.ing than to give them more drugs.) He staggered back into the bar and over to actress Samantha Mathis and his sister Rain. He complained he could not breathe and briefly passed out. When he came to, he asked Mathis to take him outside. Mathis first called River's friend and assistant Abby, then Mathis and River's brother Joaquin took him outside. River then collapsed on the sidewalk. After that he started going into seizures and had three before a photographer, Ron Davis, went to call 911 at the nearby payphone, and so did Joaquin. "He looked like a fish out of water," said Ron Davis, who was standing outside the club. He was "thrashing spasmodically, his head flopping from side to side, arms flailing wildly." Rain had since come out and thrown herself on River to attempt to stop the seizures. It seems after 8 minutes of seizures they stopped and River was still, at which point Joaquin said he was not breathing. At 1:14 a.m. he was in cardiac arrest when paramedics arrived and Paramedic Ray Ribar of the LA County Fire Department began to administer CPR. They rushed him to Cedars Sinai Medical Center where they arrived at 1:34 am. When they got there, his skin was dark blue, but his body was still warm. The ER physicians did everything to revive him, even inserting a pacemaker. He was pronounced dead at 1:51 am.

This is real footage of someone inside a nightclub in Perm, Russia where it went up in flames after an indoors fireworks display, resulting in the death of 106 people. The fireworks display caused the ceiling to ignite. "It all happened because of pyrotechnics," one club-goer, Andrei, told the Ekho Moskvy radio station. "There was a fireworks display of "rain" in the form of sparks that leapt one and a half metres into the air. A spark obviously hit the ceiling, which is completely made of woven brushwood. It ignited. The electricity went off instantly, the place began to fill up with smoke, the lights went out, and people started to rush for the exit."

Here is a horrific image from outside a Bangkok nightclub. Once again fire was the killer.

10 people were killed in a nightclub in Mexico’s Pacific coast resort of Acapulco. Acapulco a getaway for Hollywood celebrities is becoming less and less popular with massacres such as this.

None of these people will ever get to dance again. Amen.

Alpaca Farming In County Clare

A new trend is taking place amongst the hip farmers of the fertile coastal soils of Clare. Home to the Cliffs of Moher and now welcoming the creature that is a kind of South American sheep, the alpaca also is a part of the biological family of Camelidae which includes camel and llamas .

The needs of the wool industry can be unrelenting, at the moment a sweater made from alpaca wool goes for over 200e, which is a sexy tog value. Alpacas themselves cost between 3,000 and 4,000 euro.

Driving across the cliffs that stretch like giant elephant chunks of landmass. The surreal and enchanting sight of the alpaca may soon be joined by the crocodile. Crocodile farms have started in England, so expect them to be the next trending exotic animal here.

Evil GoDaddy CEO Bob Parsons Kills Elephant On Camera

*NOTE: Link is now dead. The reason for it being taken down only further serves to highlight the killing*

Bob Parsons CEO of the Internet-hosting firm GoDaddy posted a video of himself in Zimbabwe killing an elephant, here is the sickening original video. With exposing what he does on his holidays, he certainly showed all the wrong colours. He epitomizes what is wrong with the morales of the corporate world. His pathetic argument that elephants destroy crops is implausible, we can deal with these situations by using chili- or tobacco-based deterrents to keep elephants out of farmers' fields for example, killing the elephant is retarded, maybe he should retitle the company GoGlobalExtinction.

We here at MRHP believe that the close elephant relatives of the elephant that died should all be given rifles and allowed to shoot Bob Parsons. May the spirits of Hannibal's legion haunt the shit out of the rich mutterfucker.

Tourism in North Korea

Every fancy taking a trip over to Pyongyang to visit Kim Jong Il, the 'Dear Leader', 'Our Father' and 'Generalissimo' as he likes the locals to call him. Every year about 1500 westerners and several thousand Asians are granted access to the upper most country of the Korean Peninsula. You get off the plane and are driven by Limo to the countries only five star hotel. A banquet in your honour is held and it is hosted by the 'Dear Leader' himself. 

The finest selection of cuisine is presented fresh from the local famine fields, delivered by starving but enthusiastic natives. Fine wines and champagnes are produced and the party begins. Once you have had 'all you can eat', apparently that phrase actually comes from North Korea, the entertainment begins. A spectacular marching display begins and you get to witness one of the most well choreographed armies in the world, which in terms of manpower is the largest infantry in the world. Very impressive to say the least.

They march and parade and shuffle, swing there guns and chant out the most wonderful of communist propaganda. Then as darkness begins to fall things get a little bit more intimate, the 'Generalissimo' invites you back to his room for a few quiet drinks and encourages you to get more comfortable. 

One thing leads to another and you get a  real insight to a truly unique North Korean experience. The next day you are woken before dawn and escorted to a helicopter, a morning after treat from the 'Dear Leader'. You are flown for several hundred miles and watch the sunrise over the spectacular heaven lake, before being dropped off in the neighbouring China. 

Actually that was all a lie, when you arrive in North Korea you get off a plane and having paid thousands for the luxury are, shadowed by two government agents, photography is restricted and your contact with the locals is kept to an absolute minimum. Sounds like fun. 

Burned Bath

It was three in the morning, the second day I move Galway, far far from my small but good-looking cottage in the foothills where I own one mean agroecosystem where I left behind the sweetest donkey a man could ever own, the darling ears would lap on me, curl my lips with lemons juice then flounce off into a nearby slope, oh and my wife and seven children too lived with me and remain there to look after my celestial home and belongings.

Of which I will reveal to you them in order of the most important first then descend to ones less so proud: My map of Eurasia, dated 1607 (my lifelong dream was to become a shepherd there, but sadly when I arrived for the first time, three nights ago, the date has expired on Eurasia and I can no longer live my dream but live something else, not a dream, but not bad) , my copies of Time Magazine (from which I learn all my English from), complete collection from 1972-1978, missing some issues from 1976, machete seven inches and three centimetres long, butterfly net, tweed jacket slight blemish on left underarm, my cans of ajiaco.(which is the nicest stew in the world made from potatoes, chicken, corn, avocado and herbs.) ,and finally the least favourite of my items I belong, the mirror which my wife’s parents gave us, to remind us of who we are,I hate what I see in it, the map is my mirror, that is why I want now to travel the world, and not look at myself and get depressed by how many lines are on my faces, chewing away at my man.

In Galway everyone I lived with in the Duplex was awake, as does a living vampires as Remy would call us proudly while eating grapes from her long sepulchre fingers. I wonder she could kill a man with them, not a Colombian man though, we are made from the toughest rocks and shells, and our guardians are the hardest mountain goats.

How do I say this next bit in English? I will try my best: Life guard jackets lifestyle croaked on nocturnal demigod remove from its shell. The film The Neverending Story had just stopped, which I thought was deceptive although I was looking forward to seeing some of the creatures in this film here tomorrow, we don’t have creatures like Falcor in Columbia.

So I headed to bed where my eyelids were nearly at a mutiny for they wanted to close. ( I like the way I am allowed to write the word mutiny if you write the word mutiny in my country, men take you away to a urinal)

The sounds of sparks lead me to believe that someone else was having a shower and they me too. Then the sound furious like Mount Vesuvius made us all pay attention. Curtain, towels and hand fleshed spatula of water were dispatched for action, and soon it was quelled beneath a silence, which beat up or broke good the hysteria of girl tears, maniac efforts to beat the fire with my big naturally arms and prayers to obscure gods of which I did not know of, sank down past gridded teeth, to the place of solitude and ruin, the bath plastic melted and vitiated, smelled of Halloween, a black hole oozed, then ashes covered us all in dysentery , like a spray of black crows fried onto cardboard plates and chucked down our throats. This was the first time I felt at home, under the ceiling of ash with people who had went through shit, tough shit.  

Flying The Nest For Christmas p.2

As my extended Christmas flight comes to an end, the time to compress my experiences into vague wandering metaphors has finally arrived. New Years came and went with a bang in Leicester Square and the journey to the display thought me many things. I found out that if you need to really urinate that a thorn bush with a junkie staring at your lad is probably the most discreet public urination place you will find. I also discovered that if drunk enough a bottle of Moët will help in masking the reality of a friend bleeding all over the banisters on the tube and in pacifying the danger of falling backward down the exiting escalator.  

After a Kettle crisp soaked hangover I started work on an essay. I took the occasional break that generally resulted in watching a pitbull doing a steaming shit, while its owner scanned the area to see if it was safe to abandon the excrement. My disinterested stares generally resulted in the collection of this waste.

One of the evenings we decided to go see a movie. Little did we know when purchasing the extremely expensive tickets that the screen would only be the size of a very large home cinema. As we drank from our vodka laced drink cup, we soon warmed to this homely environment and eventually our shock dissipated. That was until our neighbours joined us. The first wave found a small child and his mother sitting directly alongside me. They were close enough to smell the vodka fumes wafting from my cup and their reaction made me feel that they were not impressed. I decided to continue drinking, hoping that the secret alcoholic card would maybe lead to their mutual discretion. Then came the predicted only tall man in the cinema, who plonked himself in front of me, unfortunately this was only the beginning of seat-based awkwardness. Finally arrived two extremely obese woman, which resulted in everyone in the aisle not only having to stand up, but also to leave the row completely so the women could just about squeeze their bodies through the rows of empty seats until finally they reached the end corner. From here they proceeded to spend the rest of the movie passing huge sacks of corned goods back and forth. After viewing all of this I decided to act out the following image:

Flying The Nest For Christmas p.1

After spending a week lying on a plastic board in an overcrowded airport and the days after basking in swollen sinuses and flying around the back alleys of Peckham, I have finally found a perch that is not filled with the distractions of Muslim prayers whispering in my ears and half-cocked ghetto heads considering a quick mugging between prayers. This being the first time that I have officially flown the nest for the Christmas season, I thought I would write of my experiences so far.

After my flight I quickly ended up engaging with a man from Portugal. He told me that he had 2 hours to make a connecting flight @ Gatwick airport. I recommended to him to get the bus, as I had heard rumours that there was some kind of tube strike. Instead of listening he just continued following me all the way to the tube station. On the way I engaged in some small talk, which resulted in him asking me who was meeting me and where? I told him that I was hoping to meet my GF @ Victoria Station. He then proceeded to ask me if she owned a car and if so could she drive him to Gatwick airport? My rejection of this offer combined with the fact that the tube strike had halted any transport going towards his destination resulted in him staring at me aggressively and then running away. As he disappeared into the underground halls I shouted @ the top of my lungs "nice meeting you". Only stranger's stares met my exclamation.

Whilst writing that last statement I noticed that a squirrel was staring @ me through the window. I took a picture of him while he ate the crumbs that I fucked out onto the terrace. After a brief photo session he dived off the roof into the forest of fros and disappeared into the sprawling terrain.

Yesterday was the first time that I have ever been involved in the preparation of a Christmas dinner and surprisingly I have not spent the morning screaming in the hope that the wrap around my esophagus allows me to expel the tiniest drop of vomit.

Unlike the netting on our Christmas Ham it continues to remain bound and is allowing me to enjoy the meat sweats and lethargy that comes with eating a fine festive meal. The Turkey we cooked tasted very succulent, but I did find it odd that first I had to pull its neck off, that still had a small hint of a face and secondly the giblets were still inside the Turkey, but they were all contained inside a sealed bag. This I found very odd. 

Today I am spending a lot of time hanging out with the remains of our Turkey & Ham. Between shaving them for lunchtime sandwiches and dinner curries I made sure to spend some much deserved time time with both of them. Attached are photos of myself and the Turkey chilling on the couch watching a Twilight marathon. The second photo is of myself and the Ham just chilling on the stairs listening to some early 90s Jungle Music. 

My posts for this journey may be quite sporadic as I am currently hijacking a neighbour's wifi and they have a habit of switching off their box when they leave the house (IMMANUEL KANTS). Until my next post have yourself a hoot and don't believe anything regarding the MRHP Midget party and how this connects with my extended journey out of the Country. 

Merry Christmas and an Atheist New Year, 

Owl.

Brokeback Ajummas

‘Ajumma’ in Korean actually refers to any married women, but amongst foreigners it has become a term specifically referring to older Korean women (usually older than about 55).

Settled in a cosy land of 'paddies' (not in Ireland), I have become comfortable with the sight of these so-called 'beings'. These things, these shrivelled, crispy bacon pieces of flesh. Hunted by the sun and chased by the Ajoshis, these creatures amble about street corners or stumble down roadways carrying what looks to be a load of neatly flattened cardboard boxes. The critters sometimes gather in forces on pavements trying to muster up the energy to sell crops, here and there, to the odd Upright. These Stoopers are easily spotted a far by an Upright, due to their favouritism in very clashy wear with orange and pink, mustard and lime green, garish florals and stripes, luminous geometric patterns and polka-dots etc.

Usually donning their masks of darkness, the Stoopers often cower when light is strong and they tend to wear cotton or silk upon their claws of labour. However, they sometimes are saved when they have, in possession, a crawler's carriage as they often shrink behind them with their load of recycle-ware, nutritous delights, cans of aqua or as a matter of fact, nothing at all.

If these daunting creatures are not squating on raised platforms or sidewalks, they are hazardly tackling crowds and exhibiting a style of 'herding' behaviour where groups and public spaces are squashed of positive space.

Nonetheless, my love for these Stoopers has only thickened as I find them mysterious yet intimidating. Brief moments of a glance into their eye brings a tickle of wee to my Joy.

From afar they may seem like just another nutty Stooper but their kindness and generosity continues to warm my heart!