" April The First 2025. " Fun Write.

 

JERSEY AYE MALUV!

      JERSEY AYE MALUV!

Jersey early morn crow a cock.

Conger and marigold soup lots.
Jersey aye maluv!

Market day formed in year dot.
Daily fresh hot scones we scoff.
Jersey aye Maluv!

Griddle cakes tasty very hot.
From neolithic times are got.
Jersey aye maluv!

Jersey cream teas are top.
Drunk from that big tea-pot.
Jersey aye maluv!

Bowls of Jersey bean-crock.
People for apple cider flock.
Jersey aye maluv!

Cabbage bread also not forgot.
Visitors Jersey wonders shop.
Jersey aye maluv!

A good wyf who keeps stocks.
Each day on this island rock.
Jersey aye maluv!

Anthony Fry

Those Beautiful First Group Bird Sightings.

 A cover of coots, water-nymphs tormenting a stilled silence.

A murder of crows, loudly whispering all that local gossip. 

A peep of chickens, awaiting a magnificent new morning.

A dole of doves, hiding amongst honey pots lost up high. 

A trip of dotterel wearily gazes on wet withering leaves.

A charm of finches, in a cold darkening night sky shiver.

A gaggle of geese emboldened watchdogs their territory patrol.

A kettle of hawks, roaming since ancient times armorial.

A siege of herons, Long-necked elegant solitary birds stand.

A brood of hens, scratching grey mounds of cold ashes.

A cast of falcons, like weird ghosts haunting this world.

A party of jays,  hoarding and stealing trinkets of gold.

An exaltation of larks, flitting in a thousand and one nights.

A deceit of lapwings, in oak trees hold twilight meetings.

A tidings of magpies, With sheen and green gloss tail. 

A sord of mallards, green head and yellow bill ducks.

A watch of nightingales, sweetly Singing day and Night.

A parliament of owls, dusty from flour in an old mill house.

An ostentation of peacocks, an extravagant courting couple.

A covey of partridges, fearless in gorse bushes hidden.

A company of parrots, glistening like shiny fool's gold.

A congregation of plovers, a voice ever so silver-tongued.

A colony of penguins, curiously strange slipping and sliding.

A nye of pheasants, flourishing invisibly in pine woods 

A bevy of quail, fairy rings hiding them from us.

An unkindness of ravens, haunting those black cold nights.

A building of rooks, swallowing baby frogs like no tomorrow.

A wisp of snipe, Bleating together in wetland waters.

A muster of storks, graceful lanky marsh waders.

A murmuration of starlings, huddle together from a rain storm.

A host of sparrows, beautiful contemptuous uninterrupted flow.

A flight of swallows, those cozy mud hut houses build.

A spring of teal, silver grey flan, and yellow-tailed. 

A pitying of turtledoves, a dainty evocative sounding purr.

A descent of woodpeckers, wallowing in wind-blown flowers.

A fall of woodcocks, roaming through those straw fields.

A Famous Swashbuckler Springs to mind.

Us embarking on majestic voyages to paradise.
Endless ocean journeys of emotional fatigues.
Wandering Young fit virulent handsome men.
Restless swashbucklers, a dashing personality.
Reflections of times wonderful to reminisce.
An individualistic crew whose only thoughts.
Were of that fortune, fantasy, and adventure.
The melancholy camaraderie and excitement.
Replenish life's beauty on our Atlantic cruise.
Those memories of conquests in every region.
Phantoms in every young maidens thoughts.
Devine juicy heavenly yearning female bodies.
Roving those great romantic times I do miss.
Hot uninhibited emotions we can not decline.
Casting sensual pleasures drinking and dance.
A crack of lightning strikes, whistling winds.
As legends of antagonistic seas remembered.
So quickly turn into irascible engulfing enemy.
Once in the warm harbours, the roaring seas.
Those raging storms, us the crew can forget.
Monotonous motions, storms what the heck.
The perilous thoughts become washed away.
A distant view an Island, a landfall reflection.
Maybe Paradise, pearls or vastness of Isolation.
Merciless moon and tide return another day.
To all seafaring souls who have been and gone.
Remembered like that lighthouse for ever on.
Those Tahiti times, paradise eternal perhaps.
" A famous Swashbuckler springs to mind."

Divine wild Jersey haretail.

Beating loudly your strong heart, we hear that proudness. 

 

Proudest thing I heard a Jersey woman say was, " I loved him."

 

Describing mysterious long Journeys, of ancient island warriors.

 

Men proud swagger about in posh clothes, rapiers at their sides.

 Windsurfers glide on winds, over golden sand dunes in St Ouen.

 Eager islanders, waiting retreating tides, vraic within their reach.

 

Gathering vraic seaweed, for this years jersey royal potato crop.

 

Making Jersey Black Butter, winning that worthiest of contests.

 

An occasion for a get-together of a family, with cider and apples.

 

Those perfect Jersey wonders, gorgeous forever for all to taste.

 

Jersey wonders cooked fresh as tide went out, no jam or sugar.

 

Those truly desired pleasures are attained making Jersey Cider.

 

Blowing on a sea breeze, treasure a view of divine wild haretail.

 

Eels hide in St Ouen pond, sweetest and biggest ones in Europe.

 

Battle of flowers festival, music, flower floats, and entertainers.

"Our Elite Inner Self."

Splendors of those early morning inner personal self recollections.
Oh! that innocent beautiful bright worldly crazy little love adventure.
With a blink of an eye, we have an understanding change of thoughts.
Energetic pleasure of our infancy and youth , fun delights of a fugitive.
We must reconnect inner self, with our shadowy awakening inner me.
Infinite inner self possibilities delight our radiance, become so bright.
Toiling to find that inner self we ignore our common sense extension.
And gorgeous dreams within our sleep, forgetting authentic pleasures.
Responsibly we perceive visionary gleams of a childhood recollection.
Sometimes listen to your inner voice, and retreat from danger within.
Thankful for elite inner self gifts of appreciation of love and kindness.    

"Stem Cell Research." By: Anthony Fry 2006. (A Fun Write.) But Becoming So True Today 11/10/18.

Anthony Fry 2006. 
Stem Cell Research. 
A cladistic analysis is not good enough for this sensitive topic you must get a suitable regulatory framework positive. 
That determines the evolutionary relationship between organisms based on derived similarities. 
There are concepts in many of the fables of folklore. 
Everything we value, we value for evolutionary reasons. 
A fantasy generation process of ifs and butts. 
Agents with beliefs and desires. 
Survival of the fittest an historical theory having been endorsed by natural selection. 
You must follow the code of practice. 
Embryonic stem cell research could mark the beginning of revolutionary new borders in this century. 
A Trojan horse filled with prokaryotic parasites to fight against the body's eukaryotic cells. 
Is it an illusion in a mystery inside an enigma. 
Because only members of the species can interbreed successfully. 
An endocrine system with two thousand to ten thousand receptacles in each cell. 
Ondatra Zibethicus(Muskrat). 
Flammulina Velutipes(Mushroom). 
Calendula Officinalis(Marigold). 
Our nearest evolutionary kin. 
Aside from other members our own genus and species. 
Homo sapiens are the hominoid family which includes apes after that in decreasing order of relationship we belong to the order of primates the class of mammals the super class of tetrapods the subphylum of vertebrates the phylum of chordates creatures with a nerve down the back and finally the animal kingdom as a whole.
The key unit of evolution however is the species that's the level at which changes get made. 
Defined as the genealogical connection among all earthly organisms. Plus We have the internal parasites which adapt into a complex mammalian carnivore a parasite living within on the free savannas, just the same as it did in our long living relatives the chimpanzee. Ethically different realms of human life. 
As seen through the eyes of the eugenicists trying to improve the human race by curing diseases is OK. 
But some innovations that would enable scientists to create gorilla type beings in a zoo. 
That you can hold an intelligent conversation with. 
Mind boggling but it is not impossible if you are given the go ahead with neuroscience. 
Embryonic stem cell research. 
Will there be another world war for the multi-billion pound industry.
When someone starts cloning embryonic stem cells by the lights of a perverted science. 
God has written all the books. Will he tolerate their existence. 
Stem cells are immortal in that they are able to replicate an unlimited number of times. 
Playing god What would these people make of an artificial human.
Is this going to turn into a very remarkable story about natural selection about metaphysics of ensoulment or maybe of moral contradiction. 
Will there be a moral value in talking to something that looks and talks like your mother or father. 
Progenitor cell life is an illegitimate transmitted clandestine disease you must draw a line. 
You must try to develop this bio-tech development issue in an historical way. 
Give Darwin some worthy credit or you will have to rewrite the bible in the future when it goes as far as cloning humans. 
Do not forget the body's immune system plus the nervous system. There will be prerequisite( Sine Qua Non )allotments everywhere with super-fit(Genomic)gardeners with nothing to do all day but sow their seeds. 
Let me tell You a 4.55 billion year old secret. 
"Cleanliness is indeed next to godliness." 
Raising an organism's fitness so that natural selection can spread that gene. 

ZIG - ZAG

Medieval - History.
Witches - Warlocks.
Merchant - Peasant.
Daughters - Wives.
Cobblers - Boots. 
Pleasure - leisure. 
North - South. 
Castles - Lords. 
Church - Bibles. 
Monks - Friars. 
Poetry - Books.
Elizabeth - Fry. 
Wars - Peace. 
Food - Table. 
Rock - Roll. 
Law - Order.
Rich - Poor. 
Baby - Adult. 
Young - Old.
Flesh - Spirit. 
Beach - Sun.
Fish - Chips. 
Odds - Even.

"A Royal Jersey Cream Tea."

The beauty of Raleighs dreams, held in Forts & Castles.
We imagine Elizabeth Castle, during the English Civil War.
A fiery eyed horse, thunder-beating hoofs fly a causeway.
Historic revelations, of gallantry, pirates, & highwaymen.
A Piper in the Castle, Royal music carried over St aubin bay.

King Charles II's wife, Queen Braganza had a tea mania.
That locked caddie, a Portuguese Queens aromatic magic.
Vigorous vapours, tea enthusiasm, that lingers longer.
Royal traditions, carried from her homeland in Portugal.
Lords and Lady's, had rich assumptions of spiced china teas.

Charles laid the foundations, for prize foreign tea drinking.
Gentlemen joking, in the presence of refind elegant lady's.
Exquisite niceties of etiquette, for an afternoon hour of tea.
Tea gossip not allowed was secrets, health, and sad news.
The pinkie used for balance, of the tea cup in the right hand.

Fruit jam and Jersey fresh cream, set fresh hot scones in style.
Royal Jersey cream tea not complete, without luxurious cream
The thrill of creative effort, " A Royal Jersey Cream Tea" is born.
Scones & wonders from St Quen, vraic buns from Gorey village.
A Royal Jersey Cream Tea, addiction born for Centuries to come.

"Paean Dais."

Poetry is Verse-Shared is Love. Word is Feeling-Life is Commitment. Survival is Existence-Winning is Habit. Believing is Strong-Seen is Beauty. Ambition is Realised-Doubting is Weak. Genius is Simple-Obstacle is Goal. Happiness is Liking-Boredom is Waiting. Aspiration is Desire-Important is Technique. Advice is Taken-Climax is Journey. Searching is Enthusiasm-Victory is Exhilaration. Excellence is Quality-Artistic is Feeling. Pulse is Rhythm-Greatness is Responsibility. Moment is Beautiful-Conversation is Talk. Critique is Comment-Ignorance is Bliss.

FREE "Chocolate Liqueur Patches."

My April The First Fun write For 2017.

Subject: 

"Chocolate Liqueur Patches."
Are available as of today 01/04/2017@ Your local chemist Free if over 18 Years of age. 
These cell patches may eventually become routine and regular patches for Alcoholics.
Now "Chocolate Liqueur Patches."  are cultivated in a laboratory, researchers need to control and direct their 
growth into the desired tissue cell & have now created the "Chocolate Liqueur Patches."  for safe transfer.
Scientists have overcome this problem by inducing partial stem cell differentiation prior 
to transplanting alcoholic ones into people. 
And have limited the capacity of the cells differentiating into undesired tissue types once implanted.
Researchers have now created  "Chocolate Liqueur Patches." that can produce alcohol. 
"Chocolate Liqueur Patches." signal & operate & trigger Drunk cell differentiation in people.
Plus it's important, however, that the safety of these therapies is evaluated and that caution is 
displayed when a therapy becomes accepted for use. 
This will allow everyone to reap the full benefits of "Chocolate Liqueur Patches." therapies.
Alcohol is known to cause many health problems, but new research shows it can affect stem cells too. 
In particular, a recent study suggests alcohol harms stem cells in the developing brains of teenagers.
This study has looked at binge-drinking, where a great deal of alcohol is consumed over a short period 
of time, generally with the intention to become drunk. 
It is a problem particularly prevalent among teenagers in Britain and a number of other countries such as 
the United States. 
Alcohol kills off crucial stem cells in the brain but "Chocolate Liqueur Patches." do not.
Many government-mandated initiatives have worked to combat binge-drinking in youth,
but it remains a major public challenge.
There are already many known health consequences as well as an increased risk of alcoholism 
when a person is an adult. 
Reducing everyone's binge drinking around the world with "Chocolate Liqueur Patches."
With a growing body of evidence to suggest that alcohol harms stem cells in addition to all the other
known damage, it’s more important than ever to find ways to reduce the incidence of binge drinking.
So Scientists to overcome this problem have developed the simple "Chocolate Liqueur Patches."
"That Makes You feel Drunk & Happy for a short period of time approximately 3 to 4  hours only."
Without damaging your brain cells like Alcohol does.
Regards:
Anthony Fry Jersey.

Conservation Of The Species. By: Anthony Fry Jersey.

Seasons approaching bud and blossoms dales colour.
Giddy goats on the grassy mountain pastures grazing.

We the hunter esteemed, barbaric pleasures seeking.
A kill that satisfies the gloat for blood, a wanton death.

They know not true undertaking for rights or wrongs.
Like a prime fool they travel ever aimlessly slaying life.

Total life in the streams and common brooks disrupted.
Unaccountable travelers all who shatter the brightness.

Decimating god's creations and beauty baffled, ouch!.
No stone left unturned in their sad unending quest.

Different mothers children. A life taken savagely away.
That evil eye seeking out and searching hide and seek.

Another species dying approaching recognized extinction.
Mansion walls adorned with a forest king deers antlers.

A walking stick from a roaming African bulls ivory tusks.
Varied warm slinky fox furs draping over for sale rails.

Alas faded Bengal tiger skins licking the hearths flames.
Take no prisoners echoes the radiant Spanish bullfighter.

Gods meek and mild creatures. Conservation must Prevail.

CICADA. By: Anthony Fry Jersey.

Beautiful songs sung by strangers, piercing echoes through long hot summer days.
Silent sunset, streaks of silky yellow light, a golden glow, passionate cool twists.
Sunlight yellow lichen-ed walls, intimacy secretly spiced with timeless possibilities.
White clouds building bridges, wonderful roads sailing from earth into blue sky.

Enjoying this cause in a quiescent period, their molt regeneration again begins.
A strategy called semelparity, lustily and greedily ready for their next resurrection. 
An echelon of thorny hedge rows, visions of warmth sitting in green juniper-trees.
Hurry we have no time for ease, a magic dream is wrought for instant release.

Returning as cultural prehistoric symbols, immortals enjoying their journey over again.
Behold merry voices, understanding their mood, after maturation for seventeen years. 
Never can enough female cicadas, satisfy this crazy behaviorism of hot intent males.
Individual loquacious voices echo, reasons right for deducing erotic sexual functions.

Esteemed in a maroon cloak, appearing on a shrub then shedding my garment. 
Timeless Greek history BC, folklore introducing bronzed semi-skin female beauty.
Imagination running wild a humble lady bug, in her ornate colored fancy rigmarole.
Chinese Myths spoken and written, stories about exotic treasures of reincarnation.

A females shiny brown shell, using her powers for future generations to survive. 
Manic mates pole dancing their way, into his red lust filled eyes of wanton greed.
Hordes of hungry genus magi-cicada, rapture their unison to sounds of gentleness.
Observers look in awe, as you give your life for your own light of a new morning.

During it's time above ground, busy male cicada resonates music from his abdomen.
Attracted by sounds and singing a spider, in his web so snugly, watching, waiting. 
The cicadas provocative appetite, an esteemed final showdown of sexual identity. 
With elfin wings, glamour of a lotus, humming back and fore making her offspring.

Aliens surviving on pure water, muses producing non stop for two weeks without food.
Female cicada flit like a dragonfly, patiently between scalloped branches inseminating.
A cicada nymph trembling, gently falls to warm dry earth from whence it first alighted. 
I bade thee feast at your delight till bursting, I will replenish myself a thousand fold.

Amongst ivory white weathered dry bones, snug and cosy from whence I have come.
Dancing and chattering garrulously cicada, invisibly engraved in dry earth tunnels.
Energy possessed from root sucking, an unending timeless aphrodisiac effect.
Life imbibing sap freely flowing, once more regenerating young limbs alive again.

Tyburn London's Fatal Tree, Twelve Solemn St Sepulcher's Bell Towles. By: Anthony Fry Jersey.

I confess corruption, placed in ranks of reprobates.
The death tree I see, my soul a tremble, I struggle.
A lone figure standing out, in the cold and dark of night.
I have been only corruption, and leader to confusion.
I have wasted my name, in goods unlawfully gotten.
Standing as an example, ending my days in repentance.
Repentance of my former sins, I would call upon God.
Forgiveness may descend, penitence of heart I desire.
I could be pardoned of heinous sin, which I committed.
Life which I gracelessly abused, my death a scandal.
Undeservedly having defied death, long before this time.
Then his eye welled forth a tear, holding not one regret.
Thousands died in a murky past, contriving Audrey's sparrow.
Seduced by raffish, but expensive delights of the Metropolis.
A penn'orth of curds and whey, my favorite comestibles.
Vibrant with activity, it was filthy, full of pestilential, jolly noisy.
Busy with conventicles, or clandestine meetings in Fetter Lane.
A Newgate hostelry, named, " The man loaded with mischief."
Knaves, fools, luckless dupes, a woman, a magpie, a monkey.
From Newgate prison to Tyburn, to mother Procter's pew.
Via the neckinger stream, underground at the elephant and castle.
The Church of the holy St Sepulchre, to Newgate Prison.
St Sepulchre's sexton, traversed a secret underground passage.
Twas heard twelve solemn bell towles, with double strokes.
To Jesus Christ our Lord, I commend receive your soul.
All of you, that in these Newgate condemned cells do stay.
Prepare you now, for tomorrow you shall pass on your way.
Listen all and pray, your last breathing hour is drawing near.
That you once more, before Almighty God must appear.
Examine yourselves careful, no time left for you to repent.
The windows dancing, with a devils warm fire, eternal flames.
St Sepulchre's bell towles, have mercy on your damned souls.
Your lone sole, shall not see another sunset past twelve strikes.
To God I commend thy soul, whither fly thou thy soul to hell.
Most died as obscurely, and hopelessly as they had lived.
I am accused and condemned to die, Lord have mercy on me.
The accommodating devils neck-cloth, a knotted rope for hanging.
They were turned off the ladder, and there hanged till dead.
Finally I hang here, on ye old London fatal Tyburn Tree.
And thus of you all, I take my leave of this world. Amen.

Yes An Haunted Castle In Jersey. By : Anthony fry Jersey.

Yes An Haunted Castle In Jersey.

Saint Helier walks to and throe, chanting his psalms.
Born in the year 510AD, a bizarre 6th century man.
Song and prayer, a church meeting upon the mount.
Helier's Island congregation, were at Mont de la ville.
Jersey Inhabited, by only a few nomads and a Monk.

The Saxons brutally attacked them, at about midday.
The Pirates on their fatal day, had been hiding at sea.
Fog arrived early morning, anchored off of Corbiere.
They came ashore, unseen stealthily in st aubin bay.
Crossing sand banks, hiding out amongst oak trees.

Chopping off their heads, playing football with them.
They kicked St Helier's head, north of mount Bingham.
Where the seas high tide, washed it up on the shore.
The shore it lay, his tomb-stone now, the church alter.
An ideal man rejoiced for his good, a slaughtered saint.

Yes Elizabeth Castle Jersey, it is now being haunted.
A man of Christian faith, he endured long loneliness.
Time slip into the past, Peering out of his grotto door.
His ghost is all alone in his grotto, awaiting us visitors.
A real sense of being, paradise with islets and coves.

Anthony Fry Jersey. (jambojersey)

Death Is A Relization Of Life's Emptiness.By Anthony Fry Jersey.

Death Is A Relization Of Life's Emptiness
We grieve for that sad loss when loved ones pass on.
Our ever-painful but warm romantic remembrances.
They have gone out of our vision, change is eternal.
Giving warm colour to lives lost, or taken untimely.
You must let their love remain, forever in your heart.

Death Is A Relization Of Life's Emptiness
Consciousness does not exist when our bodies die.
A big secret no one knows is what time will we die.
Life lived like a roulette wheel, in and out of fortune.
But honestly, this is not our soul's journey to the afterlife.
Our souls will be uplifted, dreaming that it is though.

Death Is A Relization Of Life's Emptiness
Remembering God, we think we will all reap peace.
We stop evolving when dead, embrace life with love.
It is not a movement to some other place, but a myth.
Your ticket to the future born, we left to our dreams.
These are, however, ultimately full of sad illusions.

Death Is A Relization Of Life's Emptiness
Physiology is a protein tapestry, everybody cherishes.
Never be greedy, enjoy this short life to breed and die.
Just like salmon coming home from long sea voyages.
Transitional processes in death, do not happen.
All afraid of death, we try to think of reincarnation.

Death Is A Relization Of Life's Emptiness
Death is a journey looking for the fountain of youth.
Liberation thoughts living, contented in our hearts.
Life will try to travel on, nature's sure secret mystery.
Before we die, we reproduce for Natural Selection.
Life is survival of the fittest, creating stronger genes.

Death Is A Relization Of Life's Emptiness
A traveler embarking upon immense journeys.
Life's intelligent dance is all being's magical time here.
Our body makes itself, complicated secrets held within.
Your first highest duty is to prepare your own lifestyle.
Earth is the true home of our soul, we can't ignore this.

"Historic Rides Hallowed Fairground Scenes." By Anthony fry Jersey.

Fairground showman are joining another extinct species the dodo
built around the lives of real people, very dedicated to entertainment
nomads travelling the length and breadth of English countrysides
encompassing hidden mysteries, inventing unknown fascinations.

A kinetic pleasure a thousand years old, with beauty and simplicity
a tradesman's craft, spent creating such expressions, lost forever?
wonderful family pleasure we crave more, death defying magic feats
their solutions practical, an old enchanting and very unique culture.

The music sounding out above the screams of hidden mysteries
Freudian apocalyptic painted faces on creatures dominating rides
big wheel up! up! and away looking down, sweet candy floss stalls
the coconut shy the nut precariously placed to excite the thrower.

A carousel going round to the organ music, horses galloping merrily
roller coasters a reason for greater thrills, scream machines to enjoy
wow! the electricity created with bumper cars, each bullying happily
river caves unending, paddle flowing tubs, tranquil majestic scenery.

Children start with a toy to satisfy their initiation into the fairground fun
kids behold eyes darting here and there a wonderland, which ride next
come on boys and girls everyone wins a gold fish, no one loses here
live wall of death outstanding, gas filled coloured balloons, cuddly toy's.

Ghost train next with sticky strands, touching your face in the dark
skeletons appear out of the darkness, bony fingers stretching out
sounds that go screaming through you, creating a cold atmosphere
apparition twisting turning darkened tunnels, creating an Aladdin cave.

A big treat next on the menu, hot dog roll and onions, not to be missed
jellied eels, whelks, hamburgers, fish and chips, assorted game stalls
waltzer, octopus, paratrooper, switchback, rotor, cyclone, Astra glides
glorious fun of the fair, knocks and bruises worth the time and efforts.

"A Scientist." By : Anthony Fry Jersey.

"A Scientist."

Curiosity, Patience, Care, Thoughtfulness, Sense, Feeling, Open-Mindedness, Time.
 It is a pity that most people think a scientist is a specialized person in a special situation, like a lawyer, or a diplomat.
To practice law, you must be admitted to the bar. To practice diplomacy, you must be admitted to the department of state.
To practice science, you need only curiosity, patience, thoughtfulness, and time.
The scientist's effort to understand the workings of the world has two sides, on the one hand, he performs experiments on bits of the world,to find out how those bits behave.
He makes the assumption that another bit of the, similar to the one he examines, ought to behave in the same way. For this reason he demands that a valid experiment shall be " repeatable " anyone else, told how to perform the same experiment, must be able to repeat it in any other part of the world and get the same result.
This demand distinguishes his experiments from those of people who claim to tip tables without touching them, to see the future before it occurs, or to transfer thoughts into other persons minds without using the usual means of communication.
So far, those people have not described their experiments in such a way that others can repeat them.
On the other hand, the scientist's activities also include a great deal of thinking, and of visualizing things in his mind's eye. While he is engaging in this side of his work, he is not looking at the real world as directly as he does his experiments.
He is trying to bring the experiments done either by himself or by others, into some kind of orderly relationship, to derive from them a way of thinking that includes them all.
Out of these efforts come "pictures of fact" and "laws of nature" way's of organizing physical experiences in the mind so that they can all be thought about together, as if they were related experiences.
It is only when he has succeeded in finding such organizing principles that the scientist feels satisfied, happy, and ready to move on to another problem.
Here again the scientist makes his demand that an experiment be repeatable. He requires that his visualization and thoughts should satisfy others as well as himself.
Of a visualization, others must say, "yes, that seems reasonable." Of a thought, they must say, "yes,that is logical."
This requirement distinguishes his thinking from that of "crackpots" who, as Albert Einstein once wrote, " place the existing science in denial." Indeed the inclusive visualization, the reasonable simplification, the logical deduction, are the ingredients of both truth and beauty in the scientist's inner world.
You may even hear him say of some physical theory, "The theory is so beautiful that it must be true" For both his experimenting and his thinking, the scientist's way of training himself are very similar. In order to acquire a clean, quick, reliable laboratory technique, he practices performing experiments which others have done before him.
When he can reproduce the results obtained by more experienced workers, he is ready to perform experiments not previously attempted.
Similarly he practices thinking. In order to develop sharp, dependable intellectual tools, he works problems whose answers have been obtained by others.
When he can duplicate some of the thinking done by his predecessors, he is ready to think for himself. 

"Fly Fishing: By: Anthony Fry Jersey. (A Fun Write.)

Fly Fishing

by : Anthony Fry Jersey.
Enjoy.
Fly Fishing. ( Humor ) In the dead of summer a fly was resting on a leaf beside a lake
.Q: I wonder what go's through a mosquito's brain when he hits a window -screen at 80 mph
 A: his butt!
The hot, dry fly said to no one in particular,"Gosh...if I go down three inches with the swiftness of a lioness I will feel the mist from the water and I will be refreshed
."There was a fish in the water as the day was breaking thinking,What is fishing? Fishing is the process by which a large animal uses a small animal to catch and eat a third, middle-sized animal, the fish. The technique, though very ancient in the history of man, is far from instinctual.Hence these notes for absolute beginners.
 How to fish:
 Animal No. 1, Man, finds a piece of bent steel, sharpened and barbed, and sticks this into the living body of the small animal,
Animal No. 2, the Worm. The worm, though vertebral challenged, does not seem to have any organized support group or vocal constituency. Sticking bent steel into its body can therefore be done more or less with impunity. This causes No. 2 considerable pain, and it immediately goes into the death agony, writhing and screaming. Or it would be screaming, if it had better means of producing sound. It is also vocally challenged. The screaming of a worm is virtual screaming. You would need very acute ears. It is in the interest of No. 1 (you) that the mortal agony of No. 2 continue long enough to look appetizing. In any case, even if 2 should have passed on, you now dangle it, or its earthly envelope, in the water before Animal No. 3, the Fish, hoping that the latter is feeling hungry and that you have selected the sort of worm it fancies. Usually 3 will swallow 2. When this happens, No. 1 gives a sharp jerk on the barbed steel, the point of which sticks into some part of 3's body ... the throat or the lips or the cheeks or something. If it does, 1 pulls 3 out of its natural environment, the water, onto the land.
The shock of getting a steel hook snagged in the esophagus is, of course, bad enough, but to be yanked from home into a new and inappropriate environment will probably kill the fish at once.
Death is in any event imminent. If death should, however, be inconveniently slow in coming, 1 can of course hold 3 by the tail and beat the life out of it against the deck.
A small boy (No. 1 in our system) will generally find this spectacle edifying, though it can interfere with a normal appetite for seafood.
Now you have two small dead animals on your hands.
You discard whatever you can find of the worm, leaving one small dead animal to be dealt with.
If you do not eat No. 3 on the spot and prefer to keep it until you have a better appetite, you must contrive to keep it as cold as possible. This is necessary because of a whole bunch of really small animals that have been out of the picture up to this point. It is easy to ignore them most of the time since they can be seen only with a microscope.
These are bacteria (collectively, Animal No. 4.) The moment No. 3 gives up the ghost,
No. 4 falls to with tiny knives and forks and begins to consume it, causing in the process one of the poorer-quality smells known here below. But 4 works slowly at low temperatures, so you should have time to get 3 back to some stove or other source of high heat,suddenly raise the temperature, and then eat the works -- the fish, the bacteria, and whatever is left of the worm.
Delicious! But do remember to bury what you don't eat.
"Gosh...if that fly goes down three inches, I can eat him.
"There was a bear on the shore hiding amongst the hedgerows thinking,About this bear and this rabbit who were talking. Q: The bear asked the rabbit, "Do you have trouble with poop sticking to your fur?"
A:The rabbit said, "No." So the bear picked up the rabbit and used it to wipe his butt!
"Gosh...if that fly goes down three inches that fish will jump for the fly...and I will grab him!"
"It also happened that a hunter was sat amongst the espaliers of blackberries farther up the bank of the lake preparing to eat a cheese sandwich"....
"Gosh," he thought, One day I came home kinda late. His wife was a little peeved and asked him to explain. He said, "well you see Honey I went fishing and thought I would just do a little bank fishing, got my gear out of the car and walked away to the water. I threw my line in and oh boy I pulled in a big catfish. I then found out I forgot to bring my fish basket. So I just threw the catfish in back of me under a tree.
I baited up again and in a little while I caught one of those ole dogfishes. I didn't want to put it back in the water so I threw it under the tree too.
I baited up again and sat there waiting for my next catch.
All of a sudden I heard such a noise and when I looked that dogfish and that catfish were in a fight and that dogfish chased the catfish up that tree and I had to sit there all day before I caught a swordfish to saw that tree down to get my catfish.
" Gosh, if that fly goes down three inches ...And that fish leaps for it... that bear will expose himself and grab for the fish.
I'll shoot the bear and have a proper lunch.
"Now, you probably think this is enough activity on one bank of a lake, but I can tell you there's more....
A wee mouse strolling through the trodden down nettles by the hunter's foot was thinking,
Q: I heard a mouse squeak.A: Well, what do you want me to do? Oil it???
" Gosh if that fly goes down three inches...and that fish jumps for that fly...And that bear grabs for that fish...the dumb hunter will shoot the bear and drop his cheese sandwich."
A cat lurking with the doves singing in anthem in the bushes took in this scene and thought,
( as was fashionable to do on the banks of this particular lake around lunch time )
A tom cat friend was heard running up and down the alley for hours.
A neighbor called his owner and asked what was happening.
The owner said, “Well, I had him neutered today, and he’s going around canceling all his engagements.”
"Gosh...if that fly goes down three inches...and that fish jumps for that fly ...And that bear grabs for that fish and that hunter shoots that bear...and that mouse makes off with the cheese sandwich ...
Then I can have mouse for lunch.
"The poor fly is finally so hot and so dry that he heads down for the cooling mist of the water.The fish swallows the fly... The bear grabs the fish... The hunter shoots the bear..The mouse grabs the cheese sandwich...
The cat jumps for the mouse..The mouse ducks...The cat falls into the water and drowns.
The moral of the story is:
"Whenever a fly goes down three inches,some pussy is in serious danger." 

Saint Helier Jersey: By Anthony Fry Jersey.

Saint Helier Jersey.

Enjoy 
by: Anthony Fry.

Helier lived in Jersey, Christianity to preach.
A transition from "natural life" to spiritual fold.
A cave to dwell, for worship, a mount to meet.
First missionary, an honest upright man of old
His gown flows, he stalks a L'islet,with bare feet.
Bearded, blonde curly hair to shoulders mold.
Lonely days, hunger pangs from not much to eat.

Saxons arrive, intent on another ponderous raid.
A warrior mead drinker, ponytails tucked under.
Dance on sea horses, a jolly roger flag of plaid.
Approaching Jersey, to reek pillage and plunder.
Buccaneer pirates, fly their scull and cross bones.
A murderous wind, with hailstone and thunder. 
Cannon tied to deck planks, axes sharply honed. 

A truly courageous person, fearful for others loss.
At times of danger, Helier found fit to ignore a fight.
Filled up with strength, he made signs of a Cross.
He unchained an almighty storm, with silver-light.
His Gospel destroyed, and scuttled all pirate ships.
Everything pounded, unquenchable waves might.
No crews merrily dance, to hornpipes, nor traipse.

Another of Beowulf's Saxons, felled Helier at his feet.
Helier's blood, became a winged le cheval of freedom.
Martyred Helier, undisturbed, departed on a breeze.
To Petite Port, a Saint waiting always with open arms.
A Resurrection-ed angel, Saint Helier his psalms intend.
Where it is formed into a gorgeous "valley de larmes".
The mother God waiting, "Holy Spirits born in Eden".