(22) Jaguar, sweet Jaguar ...why you?

Last night I was awoken from a pleasant slumber to sirens and the stench of burning leather upholstery by my downstairs maid Miranda who was screaming and slapping my face. Her dialect is beyond me at the best of times but immediately I knew something was wrong as my birthday is not for another month. Miranda clawed open my dark blue velvet drapes and pointed to the street. Oh the horror! An angry mob of women were torching my prize 1960 Jaguar! It seemed the furore over recent posts had yet to abate.

When I emptied a clip from my bedside MP-40 in their general direction they dispersed. I can only hope for good. Violence will resolve nothing nor will it deter POWcityblog!

It would seem that like many a guy before me I had simply no idea as to the scale of forces a simple remark can unleash when women, even inanimate urban images of them, are the topic at hand.

...and now, now my heart is broken. Jaguar, sweet Jaguar ...why you?

editor’s note: a recent article from Reuters focusing on Japan and one from a BBC journalist in Ivory Coast help indicate the kinds of enormous intelligence acquisition/processing tasks the POWcityblog faces. Also, in an effort to reduce levels of provocation the next posting will be entirely text free