The Butcher's Shop.

you sit on a wooden table watching me sharpen my knives closely. fresh cut meat lying all around you, it's stench wafting up your nose pricking each hair follicle on the way up. You can't look me in the eye. You know I am dangerous. You want to be my friend. You know if you can't befriend me, you stand in my way, and I will bury you as my enemy.
-----------------------------------------------------
I apologize about that last banter at the end of the last post, I am just sick of people asking me what's in my mutton. Even worse is when people ask me why it tastes the way it does. It's mutton ! What I do with it is my business, you like it you chew it, if you don't, spit it out and I shall spew you out of my mouth you lukewarm ignoramus.

Anyway. Sorry about that rant. Help yourself to an extra serving of mutton :-

The Art Of war. I never understood the rules of engagement in any form of conflict. So I take what I can from film, literature, real life experience, and make it my own.

Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent's fate.

Sun-tzu, The Art of War. Emptiness and Fullness

One of my all time favorite power figures has been fictional ( based on a real feller, but that doesnt matter ) and his name is William cutting, a.k.a Bill the Butcher from Scorcese's Gangs of New York ( not one of his best films, but worth a watch just for Daniel Day Lewis's spectacular performance as Bill ). Everytime I think of war, I am reminded of the Butcher's ways. Here's his words. He was full of 'em ! WHOOPSIE DAISIE !

........You know how I stayed alive this long? All these years? Fear. The spectacle of fearsome acts. Somebody steals from me, I cut off his hands. He offends me, I cut out his tongue. He rises against me, I cut off his head, stick it on a pike, raise it high up so all on the streets can see. That's what preserves the order of things. Fear.



Such is the human race. Often it does seem a pity that Noah and his party did not miss the boat.

- Mark Twain



Now that you've had a taste of my mutton, How do you like it?