This month I’m reading Tony Geraghty’s original non-fiction novel, “WHO DARES WINS The Story of the SAS 1950-1980″ published by Fontana/Collins in 1981 (first published in Britain by Arms and Armour Press in 1980).
Authentic Authorial Hands ~Tony Geraghty [from a 2008 photo]
This book was a special find in the BBC Children in Need charity book sale at our local Post Office some time ago now. (Sadly the charitable sales were ended with the store’s change of hands. However…) I’ve fallen long behind with reading the books I intended reading and not in desperate need of extra reading material.
By the way, as a contrasting companion read I’m also making my way through Ann Waldman’s recent book, “Trickster Feminism”, received as a Christmas gift, but that’s not at all ‘dusty’ so…
I’m only about a sixth of the way through Geraghty’s book so far, but if you’ve read any of my earlier attempts at keeping up with this reading challenge you’ll already know I am not a well-practised book reviewer(!) – I often don’t fair well with linear reading either. I have an inkling I’ll be itching to review this book better than my effort here and now.
“Who Dares Wins” is an intriguing read so far and I’m determined to see it through to the end. The end is intriguingly abrupt – yes I skipped to and skimmed the last few pages and there’s some potential relevance in current world affairs, the final pages only briefly enlightening…
Tony Geraghty’s 1981 non-fiction novel WHO DARES WINS
Reading about British involvements in military histories, other nation’s SAS regiments, and the strategic food denials inflicted by some commanders and combatants seems resonant with contemporary news stories of recent years. ‘Enjoying it’ isn’t quite the turn of phrase I’d choose, but I’m struggling for a better alternative descriptor.
I delved a little into some online research earlier today, hoping to discover a little about the author. A puzzling mish-mash of amalgamated info returned in my search results, so I’ll have to seek more credible sources than the (potentially) criminal-cultured corruptive copywriting currently pervading the web(!)
The original ISBN for Geraghty’s “Who Dares Wins” is 0006362354. There are newer versions on the market, apparently an updated version appearing to be of dubious origin, in a different authorial voice -although purporting the same author name and that potentially being creative Trademark theft in English Law – and, from that newer version’s text, confessing a ‘recycling’ of Geraghty’s original content (described in third person as “Geraghty’s garnish”), as per my screenshot from the preview option on this otherly newer books sales page, shown below:
Online sales pages for the authentic version of Tony Geraghty’s book, WHO DARES WINS are swamped by otherly versions such as the one shown as a potentially evidential example above. Apologies if my speculation and conjecture are in error of fact, although I have many a reason to doubt it.
Disclaimer: I have no known association with the author(s) or publishers featured in this post. Photos are my own; screenshot images were saved by myself during my personal computing (research and reference purposes) and constitute Fair Use within the circumstances of making my post here at my blog (and this being personal and non-commercial) and this right being established in English Law. N.B: Any issues of query or complaint should be addressed directly with myself at my contact form should the public comments field not be preferred – however please allow up to 90 days for action ie. reply, should circumstances beyond my human control arise.
The Recycled Book Reading Challenge page suggests challenging a blogging neighbour to participate, maybe that’s You? (If so, don’t forget to check the host’s page link near the top of this post!)
Although it’s quite cold at the moment and heading to zero by early morning, most days so far this winter have been quite mild (warm in other words). The forecast suggests it’ll warm up again over the next few days and I’m wondering, will we have anything more consistently resembling winter this season? We’ve had plenty of grim grey days but the weather’s been mainly uneventful, although most of the deciduous trees have shed their leaves now – and my neighbour’s fence newly installed in the summer between our back gardens managed to blow down a few weeks ago in the one gusty day I recall so far, here in the shelter of the Midlands.
With no snow and barely a frost it hasn’t felt much like Christmas, to be honest. These daisies in my front yard seem to be enjoying a new lease of life in the New Year’s Day sunshine. Tomorrow being Twelfth Night and on a Saturday calls for something special to mark the occasion… Happy New Year!
I keep getting so distracted and bogged down and cloth-eared with a head-cold persisting on and off for two or three weeks now – so yet again I’m late and behind with the Recycled Book Reading Challenge post I always mean to make at the start of each new month. Photos planned for that lingering for a while so i will get around to it. Sometime soon.
I kept up fine for the first five or six weeks of my return to the ModPo MOOC (fourth year attempt, failing to complete every time during the Autumn’s annual 10-week mad-dash to cover the syllabus’ requirement). Then, six weeks into it, the poem for the third essay assignment really left me gob-smacked. A poem comprising two poetic voices (one main part being the text stolen from a British adolescent in the early 1960s, the other a British-migrant voice ‘completing’ the poem). Those facts of the matter not arising in the taught materials and feeling unable to write my essay due to the distress and disturbance of noticing the attributed pen-name of that poem (now titled ‘The honey bear’) and how that has been usurped to create some kind of construct as if the pen-name belongs to a ‘New York School’ contemporary poet. Looking at some of the other works now attributed to that pen-name it is clear there are multiple voices in the mixture combining a miscellaneous collection of work, some of which might be originally created by the persona now fronting the probably falsified CONSTRUCT. Crazy! (It’s not beyond reason someone might actually have that same name given to them as their birth name but they’d know ‘The honey bear’ is not their poem!)
If I ever doubted the foundational literature learnings of my childhood and teenage years, into further education and onward, here was living proof of the reasoning behind so many English Literature teachers in Britain absolutely refusing to teach American authors works. or glossing over it so quickly where it became mandatory to include American Literature examples within the English Literature class.
Of course it, the usurping ‘construct’ issue, is not at all the fault of the ModPo course providers.- it’s just ‘one of those things’.
Everyone having their (germ warfare) NHS flu jabs and spreading the attenuated virus to propogate this persistent ‘common cold’ effect gave me a new excuse to boot for my falling even further behind. Never mind. SloPo season starts from this new end-point and now there is all year to immerse in the wonders and dilemmas of Modern American Poetry and all the amazing and awesome international English learning I can wrestle with and explore through poetry. (Awe apparently meaning dreadful in formal American language meaning, or so I’m led to believe.)
Among other things distracting since that stumbling block essay/poem issue have been: witnessing a local fire-crew in chemical protection suits attending a terrorist fire in our neighbourhood; witnessing the bizarre presentations of local news presented out of time and disguised ‘factual’ details; many British people getting prosecuted for things they haven’t done that appear to be engineered by bogus operatives from wherever and an influx of visiting gofer-doofers assisting some kind of insurgency drive, again from wherever. Very recently, on Armistice Day, a single adult (presumed to be African-American) with three teenagers got out of a foreign four-by-four looking suspicious. They walked straight into a near-ish house, refused to leave when the householder yelled in shock “get out of my house!” at the intrusion and then by the sounds of it the householder(s) were attacked while the family’s young children were screaming in fear from upstairs. Hopefully it was the police who attended the scene because there have also been dummy ambulances, fake local authority vehicles and weird stuff like that around sometimes too. Freaky!
This last half-week has brought the opening of a new creative writing MOOC from UIowa’s international distance learning programme, ‘Stories of Place and the Natural World’. So far it seems as much about human nature as it is about Nature. This one has a non-fiction bias, though it’s difficult to see any difference much these days. The initial (certificated) phase ends on December 31st but the programme remains open until March for self-paced learning before moving to the mooc-pack site. Hopefully I remember the detail correctly. Earlier writing and poetry mooc-packs can be found there from 2014 to the most recent ‘Moving the Margins’, (fiction and non-fiction) for independent self-led learning. Something to keep busy with through cold, dark winter days and/or nights.
Obtaining any real news is nigh on impossible. It’s so frustrating that even the BBC is no longer a reliable news outlet. News articles aren’t even written in real English anymore. We’re presented words like ‘penciled’ to confuse us, meaning ‘pencilled’ but sounding ‘pen-sigh-ld’ when reading aloud. There’s so much bullshit propoganda around too. Pushes for a no-deal Brexit from foreign western journalists (and maybe some of our own if maybe ‘on the take’) leave Britain at risk. EU food regulations are already being flouted and dangerous foodstuffs have entered the retail market, including fake products in some bio-terrorist crime racket. Things like aspirin in kids popular snacks; biscuit/cake/confectionery/snack items containing amphetamine, LSD, Daturic acid, sleep medications, stevia – all examples of things turning up in food items in the UK that could have awful negative health impacts. It’s as if there’s an elsewhere determined to impose their economic migrant job creation scheme by ‘evidencing’ how the British public either need false imprisonment or an army of mental health workers and cognitive behaviour therapists(!).
Up in arms? Not likely. Cottage gardening is more the British way, even if only a windowsill available – and it’s beyond time to breathe life into the home-grower. Grab a spade and dig in. (We don’t dig with a shovel, we dig with a spade, although a trowel or re-purposing any old spoon’ll do for a planter or pot.) Why is ‘spade’ a racist word? It’s certainly not in British English. Language oppressions and bogus standardisation are making me more sick than I can tolerate. So fluff that for a game of soldiers and folk IT!
My twitter keeps getting interrupted, interfering with my endurement/enjoyment and all sorts of tech intrusions glitching things out here and there. Bullybuoy guys and gals mostly, actually, it seems are back at the ole bulldog bash game.
However Russia seems to be the main propoganda target again lately in latest fear-mongering war-mongering efforts. It’s been going on a while and gathering pace. Do people really believe all the fekkin’ shite put out there for consumers’ perusal? An interesting video clip turned up on my twitter feed from an account I had expected to be our British “Radio Times” (a weekly TV and radio schedule magazine) but turns out to be some other ‘global news’ account. The video showed young Russian-speaking soldiers firing short-range missiles from armoured vehicles in the desert and the accompanying text suggests it’s a military excercise “at Russia’s largest foreign base in Tajikistan”. It somehow begs fact-checking…
If it’s a foreign base is it another rogue area take-over alike the criminal military takeover at Kesteven in middle-England by our so-called allies ‘post-war’ and remaining? Hopefully not. Who knows! It’s hardly top secret that that (Kesteven) shit’s there!
The CIA website usually offers public access online to recent enough information that seems reliable and trustworthy enough and of course it runs high in the search results while I barely have time for visiting all the world’s online sites to balance the impacts of cookies on search algorithms (if that’s how it even works!). So a quick look into it and I discover that not only is Russian the official formal language of the Tajikistan peoples, but they also have a national military service conscription for all young men aged fifteen plus. Hence I deduce it is probably the Tajikistan army in the clip and not the responsibility or instigation of the Russian government. A major economic activity in Tajikistan is mining for metals and minerals and perhaps the training excercise somehow contributes to that. Double-whammy. Mind, I’m a dozey female without a clue so I’m maybe in error.
Talk about distracted. Forgetting to post my lingering draft I’m now into Tuesday, 2 minutes past midnight. Procrastinating my mooc-time with this ramble I wandered away trying to find online ANYWHERE still containing previously found Eastern Orthodox / Eastern European information on Saints Days, as there’s an important one this month I hoped to remember and participate quietly at home and maybe learn some more about it. Maybe I missed it. Under such dire circumstances maybe any ole day will do. Maybe I have an offline copy saved goodness knows where. Return of the dark ages has been creeping upon us via online corruptions and manipulations, wiping out much of our cultural identities that does not fit the template of tyrants responsible for such hideous incursions. So much reminds of the religious oppressions of the 9th and 10th centuries. Perhaps that’s the olde that I feel!
Hope everyone had a safe and peaceful Remembrance Sunday and Armistice Day commemoration. Traditionally in England/UK after the solemnity of the morning and afternoon ceremonial / service we might continue to mark the occasion into the evening(s) as a giving thanks for peacekeeping and relief missions in celebrations of life. With all our old soldiers in mind and recent/currently active servicemen in our thoughts. Hopeful for global safety. Grateful to be well enough today for outing (oops, yesterday now). Essentially, as generations of British families for whom fathers, uncles, grandfathers etc were all drafted into National Service, we should support and give thanks for the efforts of our troops every day of every week, every month, every year.
The oppressions against “British colonialism” and “white Europeans” from some small quarters of those belonging to the world’s largest established aggressors/serious organised criminals (the nasties) are bizarre and unsettling. But it’s important to remember that’s from a minority. And be on guard only enough to notice the very unusual. Tourism is the biggest threat against our nation while visitors appear wealthy and “proper” enough. Shame the British government has been bankrupting the country these last few years and sees the tourism industry as ” desirables”. It’s wreaking havoc, all over. As it has, elsewhere.
It’s never really bothered me too much how the music genre ‘New Wave’ such as Blondie et al is coined (as if) punk rock in the States but is nothing like British Punk Rock music. Borderline perhaps, and of course, we punks love some if not all of it, and often have quite eclectic musical taste (very wide). But the new wave of criminally-minded capitalist’s deceptive devisive faux ‘archival’ footage across all types of popular music is (a) quite concerning and (b) nothing we Brits have had to battle against and/but resist in earlier decades/centuries.
I wouldn’t have expected while listening to my FM radio to be hearing British Broadcasting of pretentious propoganda. Shocked and disgusted by contemporary American digitally overlaid voice-over obliterating the authentic American radio file(s) of Armistice Day 1918 speeches, backgrounded by the authentic musical backing of crackly vinyl record I had to switch over. Very few channels left here in Midlands that haven’t been overtaken by American ideals. Very sad. Insurgencies are quite terrifying and impacts are so reminding of all those nasty war stories. As if the war never really ended at all. How stupid is this for so-called intelligent beings…
Anyway, back to the point of this point. Having abandoned the radio and falling back on CDs to play (plenty contemporary English music, a bit old skool now but timeless quality, followed by some Blues Brothers, B52s and Beach Boys et al) I was interested to read an article about ?What?and the mysterians leading me to a song called ’96 Tears’ attributed to them and coined (as if) the first ever punk rock song. Hilarity abounds.
The YouTube video for ’96 Tears’clearly features doppelgangers/look-alikes. This is only conjecture but they appear to be miming to a very poor rendition of a typically sixties pop-Mod style. The video content is staged and manipulated to appear as if authentic and the tune’s lyrical content leaves much to be desired. The lyrics appear to be written post-1996. Internet history is missing most facts and poorly documented not something, so fact-checking is contentious and not something. I’m minded to spend much further time with while so low-energy.
Curious to find an authentic musical reference file for ‘…the mysterians’ I was glad to find their song ‘Up Side’. Thank goodness for something REAL.
So much fake shite around online. Much by way of corrupted manipulations. Shame. Looking at the photo for ‘Up Side’ confirms the first file’s personae are actors and not the original band shown in the ‘Up Side’ track photo. Why would anyone bother faking them?!
Finally the up-shot is the experience inspired an off the cuff (ad hoc) reflective poem retaliating against the hodge-podge dodgey lodge type issues that make the world so bogus these days. To what end? Dirty nasty money? Shove it!
Goodwill and Peace, Health and Happiness to all, Hopefully. Here’s my poem inspired by ’96 Tears’:
?What? (hilarious) Not
By hook or by crook?
tri_o’d an’ tri_age?
Faux ho-beaux diddly dumb down
staged archival rock
And swayed by the checkpoint
so not monochrome
by the digital filter
there falsehood be shown
Harlequin collar
almost pudding bowl hair
puppets string dance steps
and music score bare
O’ who might believe
they c’u’d call it punk rock
try and steal our youth movement
EN titles and stock
See those signs in the background
and fore ground re-boot
call ?WHAT? as you will
AmEn t’wit-t’woo-hoot.
PS: I am aware that American English is an opposite foreign language variant ‘english’ and my natural original English writing is open to potential misinterpretations and mistranslations (as are all foreign languages). Also, text to speech automation may be problematic. Please do not hesitate to contact me or leave a comment here (or use my contact form) if you have any questions, concerns or additional needs. Thank you for reading.
[I hope it was only nature at work 27/9/2018, 6:39am UK time and that disasters and devastations have been as small and minimal as humanly possible. There’s not really much in the way of timely reliable news. Hopefully war crimes aren’t afoot again! Surely it’s not humans DOing IT! Bots and Artificial Intelligence? Otherwise it’s just f’**ing unbelievable! All OK enough here in UK as far as known, Thinking of all in Southern Hemisphere, Indonesia especially now news reached us, also China, Poland, etc – all those experiencing quakes and turbulent seas.
A little late again but time to join in with Mliae’s Recycled Book Reading Challenge post. Their post for August isn’t up yet having recently been travelling and I don’t know if the challenge is continuing but I’m joining in anyway. Here’s a link to the latest post, an extreme lifestyle experiment, over there in the meantime. I’ll update link if an RBRC post appears another day.
I listed this post in today’s MonthlyLookAhead post at my other blog and decided to strike while the iron’s hot instead of putting it off till tomorrow or whenever.
I’ve been missing in action a couple of months again, apologies as always.
Still not concentrating well enough for fiction reading attempts. One of these days I’ll be able to read and review a book properly!
In the meantime, ignoring the book I last read about a local architect, can’t even remember his name right now… this month I’m dipping into this:
‘The Little Book of Calm’ by Paul Wilson offers many fairly generic statements, gems of wisdom, perhaps enabling small but worthy enough health improvements.
This overpriced £1.99 retail price book was gifted to me by a dear friend about 20 years ago now, around my becoming a mother again, along with another similar but different one. (A different friend to the last book also being a gift). This might have been a pre-read so secondhand gift as it was accompanied by a gorgeous basketful of flowers to decorate my hospital room that my friend had arranged herself. This book always conjures that image of those flowers and the well-wishing visit so is a heart-warming reminder. I might part with it one day, when I’ve noted any useful tips in it enough.
But honestly, suggestions such as walk to the speed of a waltz, unless I have no choice to walk at ultra-slow pace, simply make attempts to walk more painful and exhausting. I imagine upbeat fast-paced tunes while I walk, I imagine the earth sliding beneath my feet as if I only have to put one foot in front of the other over and again and as if walking is then almost effortless. The book tells me to live and walk in 3/4 time as if waltzing!
Why do I have to be so atypical and awkward?
There are some hints and tips I find myself in total agreement with though, such as:
“WORRY WHEN THE TIME COMES
Most worries are future-based. They revolve around things that, in most cases, will never happen.
Concentrate on the present and the future will take care of itself.”
Paul Wilson, The Little Book of Calm’
So, I agree with such advice, but usually have an afterthought adding to it too:
It’s always a good idea to be prepared though. For instance, I’d been kicking myself for wasting my money on a mobile wifi hotspot while I never go anywhere to use it; anytime my router was on the blink I just appreciated the rest and tried to be patient – and didn’t wish to waste my little data allowance until I really need it.
Now my router’s on the blink permanently I’m glad I worried about potential internet loss enough to have emergency provision ready to hand. And I do have enough books stacking up waiting to be finished for recycled book reading to try not missing the internet until I get my services returned to me.
PS: If I appear MIA in future, I might or might not be only micro-blogging at my swishing4th.com site (wordpress enabled of course)…
What recycled reading are you picking up this month?
I’m sticking with non-fiction again this month and re-reading Suzi Gablik’s ‘Has Modernism Failed’ (ISBN: 0-500-27385-5). This was gifted to me by my best friend about twenty years ago after she had to read it for her media studies course, I think she’d found it in a second-hand bookshop as it’s spine was damaged. The book cover design doesn’t include a shadow over the author’s name. It’s my shadow!
Suzi Gablik’s author page at amazon.co.uk [non-affiliate link, no association] I’d definitely enjoy reading more of this author/artist’s books, I’m intrigued to read more of her writing – and I really should read the preceeding book, ‘Progress in Art’.
In the first chapter of ‘Has Modernism Failed’ Gablik raises the dangerous overinstitutalisation of art (this was first published in 1984, but still seems entirely contemporary and incredibly relevant):
‘With art and artists breeding like bacteria under favorable conditions … America fabricates as many graduate artists every five years as there were people in fifteenth century Florence… This rise in quantity has in no way led to a rise in quality, though few have had the courage to say so. The overwhelming spectacle of current art… has ushered in an impenetrable pluralism of competing approaches.’
It doesn’t tell the reader how many in number the population of Florence in the fifteenth century actually was, but delivers a picture enough of the saturation of individuals qualifying as artists and perhaps entering the professional field.
Gablik also describes ‘the legacy of Modernism’ as leaving the artist standing alone and having lost their shadow. References to the non-specific artist in this book appears to always be described as ‘He’. I wonder if that’s been changed in recent editions for purposes of ‘equality’. We’re led generally in society to believe art is a male dominated field of activity, and most of the individual artists referenced tend to be men.
Will I read the whole book this month? Or will I lack concentration and fail linear reading? I might stand a chance of cover-to-cover reading if I didn’t try reading anything else or doing anything much. Guess I’ll find out. I haven’t completed reading any of the fiction books raised in my RBRC posts to date other than the children’s books! But I’ll be making notes while I study Gablik’s book (for no reason than interest).
I made good use of the Chinese painting book last month although I skimmed through and skipped much of it, but had no time to enjoy Eastern Wisdom, not that I haven’t enjoyed it previously. Too much A to Z Challenge reading last month frazzled my capacity somewhat. I s’pose I knew it probably would.
It’s reassuring to retain my shadow. If being an artist means losing your shadow, I think I’d sooner hang on to my shadow, thanks.
I’m combining this post as my catch-up with Mliae’s Recycled Book Reading Challenge and as I’ve featured contemporary art issues, catching up with challenges and my own (Colette’s) shadow it can double up as my letter C post for #May-be-A-B. (So my next challenge will be posting a letter D post using a letter B writing prompt!)
While caught up in tangling and untangling my story idea for Sarah’s prompts, I decided that both casting characters and creating a fully-developed world is going to take a heck of a long time for a novice fiction writer who barely gets round to writing any fiction hardly ever. That best describes me. So bite-size backstory flash-fiction offerings seem a bright idea to be bringing forth nothing as big as a book, but there are billions of those so why bother writing a book. But maybe I’ll build on this writing in the future, y’never know.
Anyway, back to the letter A and writing to Sarah C’s prompt (no spoiler, wanna know the prompt, gotta go visit, apols, but otherwise revealing it spoils my tale too…)
Part A (untitled)
Arianne had been keeping a dream diary since before she even knew what that meant. Her mother said she was doing it even before she knew how to write English. Every morning the very first thing she did before getting out of bed was to reach for her paper and pen from the bedside table and note down everything she remembered.
“So what’s this then? Shorthand?” Marcus snatched the paper away just as Arianne made a grab for it and his face twisted with confused expressions as he turned the paper every possible way trying to find a means to make sense of the markings.
“Marcus give it back now or you’re never staying over again!”
“Oh I don’t mind not staying over,” Marcus scoffed. “Shag and run’s more fun anyway – and less washing-up and…” He was silenced by a thwack in the face with a pillow. Arianne grabbed the page from his hand and screwed it into a ball.
“So what was it?” Marcus persisted as she walked away from him toward her bathroom cubicle. She threw the paper ball across the room to land in the waste basket in the corner near her desk.
“Litter. See!”
Arianne hoped he’d leave it alone and maybe she could retrieve it later. She’d have to be more careful. She couldn’t possibly tell Marcus about Alradlayik teachings. He’d never believe her, no-one had before. No way she was she going back on meds for the disbelief of others. While she was small Arianne’s talk of the Alradlayiks, even before she knew the word aliens, was humoured as the imaginative play of a child while practising Alradlayik alphabet and drawing pictures from their stories.
At the age of seven everything altered. Her parents sought no help, as although Arianne had some strange ways of saying things and seemed different to other children, she was otherwise healthy and intelligent and not appearing emotionally disturbed but other adults considered her ‘afflicted’. All kinds of awful names were attributed to her condition of being … asleep in her earth-life, while as if awake in another life – only dreaming her parents would say. Doctors disagreed.
Entering the Academy, attending as a boarder at such a young age was not in her best interests at all, but assertions from the authorities that she would be forcibly removed from her parent’s care if they resisted meant she herself agreed, to spare her parents the guilt of allowing such a thing.
All Marcus knew of all this was that she won an early scholarship for high attainment and while it wasn’t exactly true, it wasn’t entirely a lie either. Anyway, as long as she wasn’t leaving her writing where he might see, maybe he’d forget about seeing that letter he’d picked up earlier. She’d attended to her hygiene, donned her uniform and arranged her hair and all within the five minutes allotted time. She took a deep breath and re-entered her room…
[500 words. 2nd draft, original writing, copyright 05/05/2018]
This is a fascinating article exploring the history of acrostic texts. I was particularly interested in the lower segment’s discussions of a poem entitled The Babylonian Theodicy and the eighth book of the Sybilline oracles.(wikipedia link from article)
I found myself wondering if the Greek coding referred to is similarly misrepresented historically as some of purported Latin meanings of 9th and 10th century English/British stone carvings that cleverly use symbols in ways to carry the original message whilst appearing to mean something else (during the murderous oppressions of natural pre-Christian faith in England/Britain). I don’t much about any of it but it would be wonderful to have time and energy enough to fully explore such things of history and mythic discourse that make up contemporary ideas of fact.
Reblogged portion below:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Contributing Writer Sarah Scullin Acrostics—the name given to secret words spelled out in the first lines or paragraphs of a text—are experiencing a bit of a renaissance thanks to two high-profile letters that used this hidden coding to protest the Trump administration. In Late August, Former Science Envoy Daniel Kammen tweeted out a resignation […]
ColetteB.... 