The Attention Deficit Disorder Thread

I bet I can guess which 2 were not

 

franks and beans!!

 

Those goofy bastards are just about the best thing I've got going in this... crazy world.

 

Seven chipmunks twirling on a branch, eating lots of sunflowers on my uncles ranch. You know that old childrens tale from the sea!

 

New sig, what do we think?


I'm not pleased.

 

I don't like that tree, hmm

 

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh 45 k!!!

 

too sunny, needs to be dark and dreary

 

That's what I was thinking to, but I do't want to make it too dreary......maybe if I focus in on the farm building it'll take some of the light out of the picture.

 

that would be a cool winter pic...no leaves on the tree and a little snow on the ground

 

How do you picture winter in a summer morning scene?

 

just weird I guess

 

:cat1:

 

:cat1: :cat1:

 

:cat1:

 

:drillsergeant:

 

:spy:

 

From camp to camp through the foul womb of night
The cooks of either army with great clatter,
Do their culinary labours pursue.
Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames
Each camp sees the other's umber'd face;
In high and boastful ways the confident and over-lusty French
Do the low-rated English mock and chide
As with cold croissant, a pale and trifling bread
Unworthy of the name, and rancid cheese,
They do prepare for war. Ill fodder this, for strife:
No flesh to gird the sinews, no fire to temper wavering spirit
Nor good roughage to bind the bowels.

Away across the marsh there doth arise from English tents
The ravening scents of sizzling bacon
And greater yet, the sounds of crackling pork doth fill the stilly air.
Full glorious, like some ascendant sun, eggs spit in fiery fat:
Sausages, their skins roasted as an Ethiop's, do crowd these griddles,
And luscious mushrooms, sweetest gifts of woodland night,
Vie for place with good yeoman's bread,
Deep fried in seething maelstrom of bubbling lard.

The morning cocks do crow, the clocks do toll,
And the dread hour of reckoning is nigh.
Warmed through, secure in soul, and with full fiery gullet
The English, by their watchful fires sit patiently
And inly ruminate the morning's work.
Away across the dank and freezing sod do stand ashiver
The cold and empty bellies of a lesser breed.
Unfortified for trial by nature's cold or England's steel
What chance have these, low-fat, full-skimmed, decaffeinated,
Sallow, nigh-vegan hordes to triumph over British beef ? ​