Crossroads

Recently, and not for the first time, some clever clogs tried to tell me how I should or shouldn’t speak, and how I should not use “bad” language and so on. I retorted that a): there is no such thing as bad language. There’s bad grammar and bad syntax and bloody awful spelling, not to mention sadly misguided folks that say “nukular” instead of nuclear. End of. And b): that I’ll be buggered if I let anyone tell me how to speak. Ever. Why, they’ll be telling me how to think, next; and then how to behave, and then that I have to fall flat on my face and worship them because their fucking cannibal sky gods have put then at the top of the feeding manger etc. That’ll be the day, I say to them
In addition to its Rage of the Gorgon spirit, today’s pic is the first in a random mini-series marking the 100th anniversary of the Russian Revolution.
Let’s make one thing clear: I have no romantic beliefs in this specific Revolution in and of itself, as it all ended in floods of Stalinist tears and further rivers of Blood of the Proletariat. But it happened and, for a while, it worked. What once was could be again. And it could be better. Or better done. Or better managed. Or better something or other. Any road, it's worth keeping in mind.
Up the Potemkin!