Cool Ways To Lace Double Converse

What I will miss all of Facebook

I took a break from Facebook , for reasons which I wrote some time ago and because I want to disconnect from the rhythms imposed by this social network (which in fact lately I seemed to socialize very little), to spend more time and attention to things that take time. Since moody and erratic, certainly in a few days I have changed my mind.
course, so I lose some contacts, I hope to recover in other ways. I certainly do not fail to know that two of my friends are fans of Pope John Paul II and twenty-two of Nutella. Also, do not learn more than Pingu Like many people who like Paolo Bitta, while fans are often passionate about Raimondo Vianello Superenalotto.
Over time I enjoyed collecting some screenshots of their work on Facebook, pilfered here and there. Thanks to this valuable material can begin to draw up a short list of the things I miss on Facebook.

pluralism

Lorenzo and Daniel commented on the same news

opportunities for dialogue

Mr

page. Scilipoti after the vote of confidence of 14 December 2010

cultural debate

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Itchy Breasts And Perimenopause

Vaffangiallo! Online

Monday, December 14, 2015

I'm still alive.

It's stupid to write it every time, but - as you'll see - so you do not need to ascertain that the available evidence, as for me to remember to have done another day. One at a time.


Well, we talk about yellow.

I read too often the word "zombie", which ran to me on several occasions. Well, think of yellow as such an error is glaring. I'm not dead, they move like walking corpses - unless you make very cool - and have unpredictable reactions. They are people? They have a soul? Not us, we can not afford to think about these things. Moreover, the soul is a religious concept that makes sense only for those who believe. I do not, but what I noticed is this: stereotyped behaviors, and memories of the past. Girls collect dolls from the rubble of toy stores. Couples wandering hand in hand. Mothers with infants fed regurgitating blood in their throats. I'm not saying they are still in itself, is not possible. What I think is showing traces of the past, but that the decline began with violent behavior, leading to a feral state irreversible. I'd love to hear of doctors, their brain activity in the Yellow observations. My suspicion is that it limits the amygdala, or slightly more. However I can not say anything for sure or give something for granted, everything went to hell before I knew more, thanks also deliberate disinformation by the government to limit the panic.

In any case, these are arguments that have no immediate utility.
So step to what you can serve. The Yellow

run, make ambushes and ignore the pain. Yes, the cold keeps them at bay by making them look like zombies, but this is the first mistake. In the summer, is another story. Often move in herds, while unconsciously ties had in life. When two groups meet tend to ignore them, unless there is a predator - namely us - to contend. Do not deceive yourselves, draw a bunch to another hoping to get rid of it is stupid as to invite them to dinner, not as bad as each other but on your carcass, fighting while tearing pieces of your body. Always point the prey, and when the battle ended and the food back to ignoring as before. Or worse. Sometimes, the groups come together in a stronger. They do it because they have a strategy? No, it's just instinct. If a group submits another, form a new troop. Otherwise, they are separated. When you shoot, do it to kill, hurt ignores the pain, but screams like a pig slaughtered with rage, attracting others. They are more like animals than rabid zombies, which have nothing, apart from the question epidemic. If you can, move mountains, we were cut off we are and we spent a summer of hell. The Po valley is foggy and cold in winter but hot and muggy summer. In this heat, the parties inverted. Yellow nell'afa escape from the plain flap that is the proportion of forces in the winter, it makes YOU feel a zombie. Wherever you are, get ready for the summer, it's never too soon.

animals.
Be careful, the interspecies infection is common. Infected dogs, stray and dangerous now. I'm not sure of the rats, sometimes it seems they are but we have never ascertained. Maybe I'm immune, maybe not. One thing is certain, they may become healthy carriers. I saw with my own eyes. Cats. I cats, says Piscu , are immune. I do not know, I've never seen an infected, but that does not mean anything. On second thought, has for some time that I can not see. Maybe they are smarter and have gone elsewhere. The crows, however, are a danger. Escape in the summer sun is already a pain, but it covered from top to bottom to protect against them is even worse, heat stroke can often fuck in the middle of the flight. And then the scene, well ... this Hitchcock's Birds? There. Fortunately, migrating to the warm winter - today, even more so - so watch the summer sky. The cold has the same effect on infected animals. Not being able to see the skin yellow, you have other ways to understand it. First of all, aggression. The fur, or feathers then seem dull and neglected, sometimes stained with blood. The crows are held rather than clean, the dirty remiganti not allow him to take off in flight. In any case, the plumage is black and off "sick", while the eyes are like those of the Yellow.

I always hated the summer heat el'afa, stuff that, although there are born in the middle, I never learned to tolerate, but now ... I hate fucking summer with all my might. Well, I hope there was at least somewhat 'useful, the rest of my refuge in the shelter until things take a turn. The trap is ready and should take at any moment, the army is still searching the country and should find the infected stock and then leave, at least I hope so. One on which I continue to question me is the Holy Man and his cult nonsense, as we did not notice them during the summer? Where is he hiding? I have read similar things in the space of , so I guess that could come from outside and not be patients of the nursing home. Well, when and if the militias will rise up to come back, I will have to investigate.

stay alive.

What Does Le Creuset Look Like

Saturday, December 12, 2015

I'm still alive.

When last month I discovered a connection active, a quick search of my contacts has borne fruit. The Blog of Alex McNab is still standing, and through him - as if to respond to the call of the species - many voices were raised. I am not alone at all. Survivors. In war, hiding or fleeing, however, in life. The choir, perhaps for the sake of the news or simply a desire to feel alive, I add my voice. I owe you information that proved vital, as the dates for the conservation of canned food to avoid, more names and movements of criminals who, in many ways, are worse than Yellow. Thanks. I hope - indeed, I know - you can return the favor sooner or later. One step from a very bad end, information are essential to avoid those inches that separate us from the pit.

The irony, now that I think is that this post - what I consider a little reminder that 'the survivors of Radio London - Alex wrote it for her birthday, an occasion that celebrates life at the bottom. Among other things, giving us all much more than you can pack with a nice bow.
This was my first response signal to the network:

(Anonymous) wrote:
Nov. 26th, 2010 05:00 pm (UTC)
The cold and humidity of the plains Po slow down the advance, but the shelters attract small groups of yellow for warmth, ending the encounter with the survivors holed up in buildings. It is the game of cat and mouse, we lose every day. Yesterday, desperate prayer were surprised and asked for salvation. Who? God, if it exists, does not protect the stupid. They knew the danger but they went to die. In church, in the heat, all those people. Maybe not praying for salvation but to die quickly. Get it over with. I do not know, time passes. If it snows, when they are numb, I will try to reach the pharmacy. A handful of pills and goodbye.

Happy Birthday,
giudappeso.

Today, things - so to speak - are better.
I no longer think in the end as before. I observe, indeed, for there is much to observe. To wander the streets not only yellow, but in order paramilitary groups. Or should I say hunters on Sunday, thieves who steal unnecessarily obtuse that I have already done to rob me. If you saw the magazine, I would die. After the massacre in church, I was the only one to guard the supplies. Before the others were going to die we have collected everything: food, clothing, weapons, anything useful. A long Summer Yellow past broken the back to supply what was to be our great defense, under the attacks of infected crows and the usual Yellow. I barricaded here for some time, I will not say where. In the late summer we were very few, then when the last went to die in church or in a desperate attempt to save those who had done it, I was alone. The "trouble" is that I do not mind at all. Day after day I talk to myself and I cherish my solitude with that - who knows - it may germinate in a comfortable madness. I came to hope that would alleviate all the rest, too many things I'm trying all together. Above all, the things I've seen.

Those people out there.
While I go mad waiting for good, those are a bit forward.

are two groups. At first I thought they were together, spying and eavesdropping, but I learned a few things. On second thought, I have to laugh. I've always been cautious, I would say wimp, but now ... I do not know, maybe the feeling of having nothing to lose, it made me more courageous. Sometimes, I confess, I'm a fucking unconscious. And who knows, maybe a part of me is still looking for a way out of death.
I said, the two groups.

The first are the robbers on Sunday I mentioned before, and their leader. Belphegor, he says. The truth is that the legend has spread, so more beggars among the robbers use that name because in a world where superstition and fear becomes real information out of the network (but it was not before?) no longer exists, the name of the Big Bad Wolf scares the sheep more than a stranger. So be careful, very few are those who say they are. If you get the news that the Marquis or Belphegor (on which I have to better document, having read only two lines) are dead, do not believe. This is probably one of these beggars. Who knows, maybe punished by those who were "emulating". In any case, the group that I have seen is a bunch of ten people. They're sticking their dirty hands everywhere, looking for what they can not find.
Well, before it reaches the warehouse, I decided to give him a good joke. 'm Setting up a fake, with all the canned suspicion. Take advantage of moments when patrolling the campaign, firing the Yellow and the few remaining farmers to rob them. I hope you are, go away and do a very bad end. It seems to be in Mad Max, only instead of the desert is the Po valley. While unloading infected food in the warehouse fake laugh to myself, laughing like a fool or a madman.

Here, the second group.
Matti, mad to the core. Like me, I hope, I'll never be.
Their leader - I call it Santone - Yellow delusions of supremacy, inviting her to be deliberately infected. The world, he says, he no longer belongs to man. The only choice, he insists, is embracing the trend. On him, on all of them, signs of infection are evident, especially aggression. Yellow hunt for food, or worse. I spilled the stomach in the snow, the risk of being discovered, when three of them take turns raping a Yellow numb from the cold. I believe to be the institution for the mentally ill here in town. Perhaps abandoned or forgotten in a hurry. So, without medication, the delusions have taken a hand to everyone, creating their own mythology around the obsessive infected, which would be the humanity of tomorrow. Always wear something yellow. A hat, a scarf, an armband. The other group, the looters, they seem fun to watch - as a freak-show - But if the lunatics get too close, shoot well with them. Well, I hope they kill each other.

thrillers. The first Yellow opposed little resistance, but now the temperature has risen and I step out of the shelter unless it is indispensable. I have to finish the trap, put enough because the take stuff and go away satisfied. I keep an eye on their research teams and I know I still have a day or two of time before we arrive. In any case, tomorrow is the last day of loading and unloading. I do not want to risk more, the yellow are shaking from the torpor.

To be honest, is when I saw what I saw that I will not quit.
My plan - to now - is to remain hidden, to rely on my resources until I'll have. Then, well, I live hand to mouth. All for now.

PS There are two thoughts that never leaves me, one about my glasses. You know that episode of Twilight Zone (or was it The Outer Limits?) Where, at the end of the world, is an old one and they say 'Well, finally I can read everything "and then break his glasses? Well, if I run out of my fucking, SODDING, plurifottuto. And I do not mean it can not read, but rather because I can not see without a cock. Especially from a distance. The other thought is for Caorso, the nuclear in Piacenza. I have no idea what it was. He had been reactivated to supply Italy in case of block energy from abroad, remember? Well, around here he's talked a lot, since it is a stone's throw away. To this day I do not know if it is turned off, in operation, or staffed at the mercy of yellow and militias. Needless to say, this sword of Damocles over the situation worse.

stay alive.

One law
Judah.