About Me

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No Fixed Abode, Home Counties, United Kingdom
I’m a 60-year-old Aspergic gardening CAD-Monkey. Sardonic, cynical and with the political leanings of a social reformer, I’m also a toy and model figure collector, particularly interested in the history of plastics and plastic toys. Other interests are history, current affairs, modern art, and architecture, gardening and natural history. I love plain chocolate, fireworks and trees, but I don’t hug them, I do hug kittens. I hate ignorance, when it can be avoided, so I hate the 'educational' establishment and pity the millions they’ve failed with teaching-to-test and rote 'learning' and I hate the short-sighted stupidity of the entire ruling/industrial elite, with their planet destroying fascism and added “buy-one-get-one-free”. Likewise, I also have no time for fools and little time for the false crap we're all supposed to pretend we haven't noticed, or the games we're supposed to play. I will 'bite the hand that feeds', to remind it why it feeds.

Tuesday, August 6, 2019

S is for Sterwinwatch - Nutters!

Terry Pratchett - well known for his sanity, stated that five exclamation marks were the 'sure' sign of an insane mind; can you ever believe that!!!!! Another 'diatrible' from 'saddiest' man I'm afraid . . . so, Erwin Sell (for it is he) has decided he is some kind of metal-healthcare worker and kindly diagnosed the situation to his 'best' content, and err . . . all x else! . . . Sigh!

Erwin F Sell; Erwin Sell Make It Up; Erwinwatch; Pennsylvania; PSTSM; Sell Toys; Selltoy; shitestuff; Small Scale World; smallscaleworld.blogspot.com; Stadinger; Stads Stuff; Stadsshite; Stadsstuf; Stadswatch; Sterwin; Sterwin Watch;
It's illiterate drivel, that's your starter-for-ten, but we'll try to make sense of it for posterity's sake! I am poor, that's a definite, even more so as I'm paying back loans for air-fares at the moment, but poverty is also a state of mind, and I am therefore rich in so many other ways.

I'm not sad; this is parroting TJF's 'sad man' meme (or 'saddiest man' as he put it a while ago!), and apart from being a quite clumsy expression, belies the fact that those of you who know me, know I'm actually quite a happy-go-lucky sort, especially for someone so cynical!

[Several people were saved, by the doors opening, at the recent PW-show, from one of my Brwreakshit rants, which was definitely gathering to a crescendo, but they'll attest it was good natured! The whole thing's beyond parody now, a bit like the battle with TJF!]

Nor am I sick, neither am I lonely,  those who know me (and Erwin doesn't know me from a hole in a fence) know I'm gregarious and conversationalist without being too pushy.

Stain in the hobby? Hardly! I've had to defend myself from a lot of rude crap, insult and plagiarism. mostly coming from the petty-jealous, envious little, 'small' men centered on Paul Stadinger and the Penn State Toy Soldier Mafia, but including the half-dozen-odd Vichy and the three or four Awful F**king Deutsche, but also gathering-in the odd freelancer like Michel Roffler; the limp-dicked Hussar, or Giselle over at Mokarex . . . and the Eko one.

Which neatly deals with his pure insults!

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Erwin then shows his own level of total ignorance and lack of formal education, by clearly mistaking literary concepts such as narrative thought, self-depreciation, comedic prose, social/cultural reference (some of which wouldn't necessarily be known or recognised by foreigners anyway), humorous aside, thinking 'out loud' and stream of consciousness (in none of which am I [that] fluent) as signs I may be mad. It's not that I'm mad, just that he's too stupid to comprehend anything presented in the written-form which is more convoluted than his master's short, junior-school, baby sentences . . .

. . . I found these figure stop they are Marx stop they are also come in grey stop! . . .

. . . or his (Sell's) own illiterate babble.

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Which leaves his conclusion:

Well . . . humm . . . "self therapeutic" huh? . . . in public?

People; who live in glasshouses . . . really shouldn't throw stones!

If you go here you will find a fantasy 'novel' (444pages . . . bwaahahahahahahahahah-ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!) written by the son of successful store owners (merchants), who has - himself - 'lost' several retail (merchant) businesses, one way, or another.

The plot as described in the introductory/sales blurb - which is full of typo's, poor syntax and grammatical errors (at least 35 digressions from English as a ruled language); hinting at the state of the contents of the 'work', tells us - the potential purchasers - that the story is all about . . . err . . . a failed merchant trying to be a successful merchant like his successful merchant parents!

Who's indulging in a bit of self-therapy in public? I don't think it's me Mr Sell; look to your master!

And even if I was indulging in such self-referential, fantastical crap in the search for 'inner-peace' and 'healing', I don't think I'd need to command an army, conquer a country, save a King, marry a Princess or ride a dragon - in my head - to heal my damaged-self or salve my 'wounded soul'!

Hahahahah! I assume (I love a bit of assumption!) that in the above-referenced Kindle-krud, the 'hero' is some tall, slim, attractive type, and not too much of a burden, for a dragon?

Cruel; but they wanted a war so they can have one; they're both the nuts, not me! Fancy - the little pot accusing the soap of being as black as the arse of the old kettle!

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