el nammufiesto del bomber no es divertido. la parte de lou que podria pasar conn super tecnologia es la mas interneradtee immo, aunque es mas basnteante simplista i.e. no arwckonoledga las ventajas que podrian tener gruposd peuqqeños ... admeas no considera que las fundaciones intelectuales del sovereitetismo/autoristanismo/capitalisp estas siendo desutidas por loa misma sciencia i.r. la destruccion de la teoria de sres independientes dichn an sing con su propio localmente originamnte comportanmiento operando en espacio euclidio etc.
encontre este paprio que creo es relevante a los intereses de
>>1-san
[paprio warning]
Well, let's take a day in January, and let's suppose I wake up about
3:00 a.m. to find that snow is falling. I start a fire in my stove and put a pot
of water on. V\'hen the water comes to a boil I dump a certain quantity of
rolled oats into it and stir them for a few minutes until they are cooked. The
I take the pot off the stove, add a couple of spoonfuls of sugar and some
milk- made from powdered milk. While the oats arc cooling I cat a piece
of cold boiled rabbit meat. Afterward I eat the oats. I sit for a few minutes
before the open door of the stove watching the fire burn down, then I take
my clothes off again, get back into bed, and go to sleep. When I wake up,
the sky is just starting to get light. I get out of bed and dress myself quickly
because it's cold in the cabin. By the time I'm dressed there's a little more
light and I can see that it's no longer snowing and the sky is clear. Because
of the fresh snow, it should be a good day for rabbit hunting. So I take my
old, beat-up, single-shot 22 down from the hooks on the walL I put my little
wooden cartridge-box, containing 16 cartridges, in my pocket, with a couple
of books of matches wrapped in plastic bags and a sheath knife on my belt
in case I have to build a fire in an emergency. Then I put on my snowshoes
and take of[ First there's a hard climb to get up on top of the ridge, and
then a level walk of a mile or so to get to the open forest of lodgepole
pines where I want to hunt. A little way into the pines I find the tracks of
a snowshoe hare. I follow the trail around and around through its tangled
meanderings for about an hour. Then suddenly I see the black eye and the
black-tipped ears of an otherwise white snowshoe hare. It's usually the eye
and the black-tipped ears that you notice first. The bunny is watching me
from behind the tangled branches and green needles of a recently-fallen
pine tree. The rabbit is about 40 feet away, but it's alert and watching me, so
I won't try to get closer. However, I have to maneuver for an angle to shoot
from, so that I can have a clear shot through the tangle of branches-even a
slender [Wig can deflect a 22 bullet enough to cause a miss. To get that clear
shot I have to lie down in the snow in an odd position and use my knee as
a rest for the rifle barreL I line up the sights on the rabbit's head, at a point
just behind the eye . . . hold steady. . . ping! The rabbit is clipped through the
head. Such a shot ordinarily kills the rabbit instantly, but the animal's hind
legs usually kick violently for a few seconds so that it bounces around in the
snow. When the rabbit stops kicking I walk up to it and see that it's quite
dead. I say aloud "lhank you, Grandfather Rabbit"-Grandf
ather Rabbit is
a kind of demigod I've invented who is the tutelary spirit of all the snowshoe
rabbits. I stand for a few minutes looking around at the pure-white snow
and the sunlight filtering through the pine trees. I take in the silence and
the solitude. It's good to be here. Occasionally I've found snowmobile tracks
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along the crest of the main ridge, but in these woods where I am now, once
the big-game hunting season is over, in all my years in this country I've never
seen a human f
ootprint other than my own. I take one of the noosed cords
out of my pocket. For convenience in carrying I put the noose around the
rabbit's neck and wrap the other end of the cord around my mittened hand.
Then I go looking for the trail of another rabbit. When I have three rabbits I
head home. On arriving there I've been out some six or seven hours. My first
task is to peel off the skins of the rabbits and remove their guts. Their livers,
hearts, kidneys, brains and some assorted scraps I put in a tin can. I hang the
carcasses up under shelter, then run down to my root cellar to fetch some
potatoes and a couple of parsnips. When these have been washed and some
other chores performed- splitting some wood maybe, or collecting snow
to melt for drinking water-I put the pot on to boil, and at the appropriate
time add some dried wild greens, the parsnips, the potatoes, and the livers
and other internal organs of the rabbits. By the time it's all cooked, the sky
is getting dark I eat my stew by the light of my kerosene lamp. Or, ifI want
to economize, maybe I open the door of the stove and eat by the light of the
fire. I finish off with half a handful of raisins. I'm tired but at peace. I sit for
a while in front of the open door of the stove gazing at the fire. I may read
a little. More likely I'll just lie on my bed for a time watching the firelight
flicker on the walls. When I get sleepy I take off my clothes, get under the
blankets, and go to sleep.