Nipples In The Desert

In the old days, before nipples were prolific on the video screen, they still liked busty girls, but they would just put them in tight sweaters, and let their eyes do the seducing.


TMC threw some old Van Heflin flick on the screen tonight.  Described as being in Afrique d'Nord, after a moment or two I wondered if it would take me back to Tunisia.  And then there I was transported.   Of course it was some world 23 years before I was there, but there were vague recollections, and lost conjectures...


Van apparently was having some tax problems that made it beneficial for him to make movies outside the USA; or so says WInona Ryder.


The movie is some sad precursor to Indiana Jones, as archeologists and treasure hunters search for a lost golden mask.  And yet, there it is:  toonsie.   And I'm sure I've visited the ruins, and well, the rolling hills look familiar.


Van Heflin could be Indiana Jones if he were Harrison Ford, but alas he's rather inept.   And there's some real strangeness as there's a love interest that's actually engaged to someone else, someone else who's rather a wet rag, or ... hard to say, but at least sans passion.  


In any event, at one moment in the filming in the ruins that I'm sure I visited, but forget, the tight sweater is quite tight, and the young lady's nipples are clearly impressed thereon...  In the old days, that's how they did things.

Whether the Weather Matters

Is it a question we should ask?  I visited the shore, without a sun.  The moonbeams did not come.   A fish flopped dying in the surf, not quite aware of where it flopped, I'm sure.

There is a penchant, to search for penchants, that finds itself, self-fulfilling.

And filling one's self is not to be done lightly; rather it is rather, everything delighting.

I'm sure that the weather will change;  or at least will show another face.   Perhaps one familiar, perhaps one we've faced, sometime in the past, that we've long ago lost.

It is a question, that  is worthless to answer, for the answer is known, for the cotton will not grow, or the lives will be tossed in the tossing flood, or the ooze will frost on the tops of the mud, or the soldiers with boots on will die in their blood...

Regardless, the weather matters, weather or not ...