Monthly Archives: February 2016

The Witch – movie review

Anya Taylor-Joy gives a brilliant performance as a strange and  troubled young woman in 1630 New England in The Witch. This frighting movie is filmed in such a way that you feel as if you have been transported to the cruel an unforgiving wilderness that America once was.

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The story is about a family that has been banished from the town of the other settlers, due to the father’s uncompromising religious views. The family is completely alone on its small farm in the middle of a deadly Winter

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Anya Taylor-Joy plays Tomasin, who as the oldest child of the family is given the responsibility of watching over the other children. Tragedy strikes when the baby disappears under mysterious circumstances.  The mother (excellent played by Kate Dickie) cannot accept the story that  a wolf has taken the baby.

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She feel Satan must be at work, and suspicion of witchcraft falls on Tomasin. Her father (perfectly played by Ralph Ineson) is fanatical in his own religious views, yet wants desperately to believe that his daughter is not a witch.

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This movie is a combination horror film and social commentary. It’s cinematography is amazingly well done, and the acting is  brilliant.

We predict that Anya Taylor-Joy will become a major movie star.

We give The Witch our highest rating of 5 Stars *****

 

 

The Winter Wife

Towards end of Life,

Once filled with Strife,

He misses most his Winter Wife.

The Devil raged inside his head

then Winter Wife came to his bed.

She warmed his soul,

chased Devil out.

With Winter lust their love screamed out.

Of Cold and Death they had no fear,

Pure love that could not last the year.

Springtime came and melted snow,

Winter Wife packed bags to go.

Another another man, another life,

Another love for Winter Wife

 

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The Winter Goddess

The Winter Goddess stood in the snow and glanced in Eric’s direction. In his  delirious state, he knew she was the same  vision that Viking warriors must have seen hundreds of years ago just before they died of battle wounds.

Eric peered through the snow, but he just could not see her clearly. She was there, but somehow just out of focus – just out of reach. She looked directly at him and smiled. Her skin was incredibly pale and beautiful and her long golden hair moved slightly in the wind.  The Winter Goddess called out to him in in a soulful  soft voice, but he could not understand her. She was speaking some ancient dialect of long forgotten tribes of the far north.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of Eric’s mind was the vague realization that he was  in the final stages of hypothermia.  He had passed through the phases of shivering and dizziness and had entered the final  levels of confusion and rapid heart beat.

Eric’s heart was racing like a small engine about to explode. His heart was going at such a rate that he had stopped shivering. For the first time in many hours he felt comfortable. Then he actually began to feel warm and even hot.

As he walked towards the Winter Goddess Eric shed the clothing which was making him hot.  Off went the jacket, the sweater and shirt and finally the pants and underclothing. Eric strode confidently through the snow. He was warm and happy as he got closer to the Winter Goddess.

Miles away the searchers were looking in the wrong direction for Eric. The Norwegians were angry that they had to risk their own lives trying to find an American who was arrogant and foolish enough to go off alone in the Norwegian wilderness in Winter.

The American had left no note, no map of where he was going, not even a message with the innkeeper as to what direction he was headed. The searchers shook their heads in disgust at the lack of respect the American had shown for the wilderness.

But Eric knew nothing of the searchers anger or disgust. He had entered another realm; another level of existence.  He had finally reached the Goddess of Winter.  She smiled at him and took Eric into her arms. Her breasts felt warm against his chest.  Eric had expected her skin to be cold, but instead the Goddess of Winter’s skin was soft and warm as she gently caressed him.

Now that he had reached the Goddess, Eric could finally relax. He had been walking for so long and was so tired that it felt  wonderful to stop and relax.

The Winter Goddess whispered in Eric’s ear and gently stroked his hair.  Suddenly he could understand her language.  She was telling Eric that he was home now. That all his struggles were over and all his battles had been won. It was time to come in from the cold and feast at the long table with all the Gods and Goddesses.

Eric felt the peace and relaxation for which he had spent so many years searching. The Winter Goddess continued to hug him and keep him warm in the snow as his racing heart gradually slowed down and finally came to a smooth and wonderful stop.

 

Why the Dutch Tell Germans to “Bring Back Our Bicycles” at Football Matches

Whenever Dutch football (soccer) teams play German teams, the Dutch fans taunt the Germans with big  signs that say “Bring Back Our Bicycles “. The Dutch go to the trouble of writing out these signs in German so that their rivals will get the message.

The Dutch love the joke and think it is a great insult. The only  problem is that except for the very old people in the crowd , the Germans have no idea what the Dutch are talking about. The Germans know it is some sort of insult, but exactly what is it?

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Well it goes back to the end of World War II. The Germans, of course, had invaded The Netherlands at the very beginning of the war, and it  was one of the very last countries liberated by the Allied Forces.

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By that point in the war, the German army was completely defeated and the Germans were retreating full speed as the Allied Forces approached. The Germans were using everything they could to get out of the Netherlands. They took trucks, cars,  motorcycles and tractors. When no motorized vehicles were left, the remaining German soldiers stole every bicycle in The Netherlands and rode them back to Germany.

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These events were 70 years ago, but the Dutch have never forgotten. They never hold up signs asking to bring back the cars or trucks or tractors. It is the bicycles they remember.

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The Netherlands is a nation of bicyclists. Children, businessmen, old people and beautiful young women all ride the big sturdy Dutch bicycles. In the pouring rain they ride them to work, steering with one hand and holding an umbrella in the other.

As time goes by and World War II seems more and more distant, the people of Europe will forget many things.  But the Dutch will never forget or forgive the theft of their bicycles.