You are absolutely right. So in order to correct my knighting. I would change my first name to Pentine and my last name to Fang. Then my name would be Sir Pentine Fang.

Yeah, totally. Fuck these American nature documentaries trying to appeal to the Honey Boo Boo retard audience. "Ohhh, ma gawd! Ah had no idear spahderrs sound layk thayt!"
They couldn't even get the fangs right on the CG model. A Red Back's fangs are oriented towards each other like pincers.

Also, *downunder tag required

Snowmen...with fangs...
And I thought the prequel minisode looked goofy.

>> ^critical_d:

I would not be "tickling" anything with fangs like that thing has!!!


That is why it is so short. They cut off the part where the biting, screaming and crying began. and if anyone ever called her Rikki-Tikki-Tavi again someone was going to lose something else.

I would not be "tickling" anything with fangs like that thing has!!!

cobra's show signs of intelligence far greater than any other snake species, so if they've been raised like that I'm sure they're used to it by now. I really doubt throwing them like that will hurt them considering they can climb trees and fall out of them unhurt from other videos I've seen. I also doubt they are de-fanged, I'm pretty sure I saw some venom coming from one of them.

This is an older clip ... Craig's snake cup still has both of it's fangs =o)

Also, don't forget that conservatives grow hair in the weirdest places and they eat children too. Oh, and fangs, yep, they have em. Not that I'm a conservative myself, but people should know.

SREDNI VASHTAR

Conradin was ten years old, and the doctor had pronounced his professional opinion that the boy would not live another five years. The doctor was silky and effete, and counted for little, but his opinion was endorsed by Mrs. De Ropp, who counted for nearly everything. Mrs. De Ropp was Conradin's cousin and guardian, and in his eyes she represented those three-fifths of the world that are necessary and disagreeable and real; the other two-fifths, in perpetual antagonism to the foregoing, were summed up in himself and his imagination. One of these days Conradin supposed he would succumb to the mastering pressure of wearisome necessary things---such as illnesses and coddling restrictions and drawn-out dulness. Without his imagination, which was rampant under the spur of loneliness, he would have succumbed long ago.

Mrs. De Ropp would never, in her honestest moments, have confessed to herself that she disliked Conradin, though she might have been dimly aware that thwarting him ``for his good'' was a duty which she did not find particularly irksome. Conradin hated her with a desperate sincerity which he was perfectly able to mask. Such few pleasures as he could contrive for himself gained an added relish from the likelihood that they would be displeasing to his guardian, and from the realm of his imagination she was locked out---an unclean thing, which should find no entrance.

In the dull, cheerless garden, overlooked by so many windows that were ready to open with a message not to do this or that, or a reminder that medicines were due, he found little attraction. The few fruit-trees that it contained were set jealously apart from his plucking, as though they were rare specimens of their kind blooming in an arid waste; it would probably have been difficult to find a market-gardener who would have offered ten shillings for their entire yearly produce. In a forgotten corner, however, almost hidden behind a dismal shrubbery, was a disused tool-shed of respectable proportions, and within its walls Conradin found a haven, something that took on the varying aspects of a playroom and a cathedral. He had peopled it with a legion of familiar phantoms, evoked partly from fragments of history and partly from his own brain, but it also boasted two inmates of flesh and blood. In one corner lived a ragged-plumaged Houdan hen, on which the boy lavished an affection that had scarcely another outlet. Further back in the gloom stood a large hutch, divided into two compartments, one of which was fronted with close iron bars. This was the abode of a large polecat-ferret, which a friendly butcher-boy had once smuggled, cage and all, into its present quarters, in exchange for a long-secreted hoard of small silver. Conradin was dreadfully afraid of the lithe, sharp-fanged beast, but it was his most treasured possession. Its very presence in the tool-shed was a secret and fearful joy, to be kept scrupulously from the knowledge of the Woman, as he privately dubbed his cousin. And one day, out of Heaven knows what material, he spun the beast a wonderful name, and from that moment it grew into a god and a religion. The Woman indulged in religion once a week at a church near by, and took Conradin with her, but to him the church service was an alien rite in the House of Rimmon. Every Thursday, in the dim and musty silence of the tool-shed, he worshipped with mystic and elaborate ceremonial before the wooden hutch where dwelt Sredni Vashtar, the great ferret. Red flowers in their season and scarlet berries in the winter-time were offered at his shrine, for he was a god who laid some special stress on the fierce impatient side of things, as opposed to the Woman's religion, which, as far as Conradin could observe, went to great lengths in the contrary direction. And on great festivals powdered nutmeg was strewn in front of his hutch, an important feature of the offering being that the nutmeg had to be stolen. These festivals were of irregular occurrence, and were chiefly appointed to celebrate some passing event. On one occasion, when Mrs. De Ropp suffered from acute toothache for three days, Conradin kept up the festival during the entire three days, and almost succeeded in persuading himself that Sredni Vashtar was personally responsible for the toothache. If the malady had lasted for another day the supply of nutmeg would have given out.

The Houdan hen was never drawn into the cult of Sredni Vashtar. Conradin had long ago settled that she was an Anabaptist. He did not pretend to have the remotest knowledge as to what an Anabaptist was, but he privately hoped that it was dashing and not very respectable. Mrs. De Ropp was the ground plan on which he based and detested all respectability.

After a while Conradin's absorption in the tool-shed began to attract the notice of his guardian. ``It is not good for him to be pottering down there in all weathers,'' she promptly decided, and at breakfast one morning she announced that the Houdan hen had been sold and taken away overnight. With her short-sighted eyes she peered at Conradin, waiting for an outbreak of rage and sorrow, which she was ready to rebuke with a flow of excellent precepts and reasoning. But Conradin said nothing: there was nothing to be said. Something perhaps in his white set face gave her a momentary qualm, for at tea that afternoon there was toast on the table, a delicacy which she usually banned on the ground that it was bad for him; also because the making of it ``gave trouble,'' a deadly offence in the middle-class feminine eye.

``I thought you liked toast,'' she exclaimed, with an injured air, observing that he did not touch it.

``Sometimes,'' said Conradin.

In the shed that evening there was an innovation in the worship of the hutch-god. Conradin had been wont to chant his praises, tonight be asked a boon.

``Do one thing for me, Sredni Vashtar.''

The thing was not specified. As Sredni Vashtar was a god he must be supposed to know. And choking back a sob as he looked at that other empty comer, Conradin went back to the world he so hated.

And every night, in the welcome darkness of his bedroom, and every evening in the dusk of the tool-shed, Conradin's bitter litany went up: ``Do one thing for me, Sredni Vashtar.''

Mrs. De Ropp noticed that the visits to the shed did not cease, and one day she made a further journey of inspection.

``What are you keeping in that locked hutch?'' she asked. ``I believe it's guinea-pigs. I'll have them all cleared away.''

Conradin shut his lips tight, but the Woman ransacked his bedroom till she found the carefully hidden key, and forthwith marched down to the shed to complete her discovery. It was a cold afternoon, and Conradin had been bidden to keep to the house. From the furthest window of the dining-room the door of the shed could just be seen beyond the corner of the shrubbery, and there Conradin stationed himself. He saw the Woman enter, and then be imagined her opening the door of the sacred hutch and peering down with her short-sighted eyes into the thick straw bed where his god lay hidden. Perhaps she would prod at the straw in her clumsy impatience. And Conradin fervently breathed his prayer for the last time. But he knew as he prayed that he did not believe. He knew that the Woman would come out presently with that pursed smile he loathed so well on her face, and that in an hour or two the gardener would carry away his wonderful god, a god no longer, but a simple brown ferret in a hutch. And he knew that the Woman would triumph always as she triumphed now, and that he would grow ever more sickly under her pestering and domineering and superior wisdom, till one day nothing would matter much more with him, and the doctor would be proved right. And in the sting and misery of his defeat, he began to chant loudly and defiantly the hymn of his threatened idol:

Sredni Vashtar went forth,
His thoughts were red thoughts and his teeth were white.
His enemies called for peace, but he brought them death.
Sredni Vashtar the Beautiful.

And then of a sudden he stopped his chanting and drew closer to the window-pane. The door of the shed still stood ajar as it had been left, and the minutes were slipping by. They were long minutes, but they slipped by nevertheless. He watched the starlings running and flying in little parties across the lawn; he counted them over and over again, with one eye always on that swinging door. A sour-faced maid came in to lay the table for tea, and still Conradin stood and waited and watched. Hope had crept by inches into his heart, and now a look of triumph began to blaze in his eyes that had only known the wistful patience of defeat. Under his breath, with a furtive exultation, he began once again the pæan of victory and devastation. And presently his eyes were rewarded: out through that doorway came a long, low, yellow-and-brown beast, with eyes a-blink at the waning daylight, and dark wet stains around the fur of jaws and throat. Conradin dropped on his knees. The great polecat-ferret made its way down to a small brook at the foot of the garden, drank for a moment, then crossed a little plank bridge and was lost to sight in the bushes. Such was the passing of Sredni Vashtar.

``Tea is ready,'' said the sour-faced maid; ``where is the mistress?'' ``She went down to the shed some time ago,'' said Conradin. And while the maid went to summon her mistress to tea, Conradin fished a toasting-fork out of the sideboard drawer and proceeded to toast himself a piece of bread. And during the toasting of it and the buttering of it with much butter and the slow enjoyment of eating it, Conradin listened to the noises and silences which fell in quick spasms beyond the dining-room door. The loud foolish screaming of the maid, the answering chorus of wondering ejaculations from the kitchen region, the scuttering footsteps and hurried embassies for outside help, and then, after a lull, the scared sobbings and the shuffling tread of those who bore a heavy burden into the house.

``Whoever will break it to the poor child? I couldn't for the life of me!'' exclaimed a shrill voice. And while they debated the matter among themselves, Conradin made himself another piece of toast.

I'm pretty wigged out by spiders, but I like snakes. So for me, I tried to mentally convert this video into a snake expert "handling" a cobra or something. The way I see it, sure, you can have an expertise level and skill level that would allow you to handle either sort of animal relatively safely. But even in that case, there aren't a whole lot of particularly practical reasons to put that into practice.

My hometown in Kansas has lots of bullsnakes. In my experience, large older bullsnakes are often pretty docile but the young juvenile ones are usually very defensive and will rear up, strike, and mimic rattlesnake sounds and actions. However, they are non-venomous and don't have "fangs", although they do have short teeth that can provide small, shallow puncture wounds if they get a good nip on you.

I like catching bullsnakes when I see them and handling them a bit before releasing them back into the wild. The docile ones are particularly fun, but even the juveniles that show some aggression can be fun to handle with some caution. I have never been bit myself, but I have seen people that have been. No lasting harm comes from that, and in most instances it wouldn't even draw blood -- the surprise of it is probably worse than the damage.

In spite of that, I have no interest whatsoever in handling something like a rattlesnake or other venomous snake. Looking at them, sure. But I don't see much practicality in handling them. In all likelihood, I could safely handle rattlers in the same way that I handle bullsnakes and avoid being bit. But the cost of failure would be higher (lots of pain and small possibility of death).

So at least for me personally, I don't think I'd be interested in handling black widows even if I was a spider person instead of a snake person. I'm not against the author of this video handling them, but I would stop short of the "you should try this at home" tag!

@heropsycho I largely agree with that, but I also think there's a bit too much of a tendency for the left to undercut their own messaging.

For example, the Ryan plan involved changing Medicare from a single-payer insurance program, into a set of vouchers that seniors could use to buy private insurance.

Democrats said this would "end Medicare." They're right.

However, for some reason, Democrats listened to the people who said that it doesn't end Medicare, it reforms it.

So Dem's changed their messaging and said this would "end Medicare as we know it", but still people nitpicked, and they added more and more caveats, until they finally just dropped it entirely.

Good job. Rather than cutting through the bullshit and saying the real truth (Republicans want to end Medicare, and Paul Ryan's plan will do it) in a succinct and powerful way, you have this overly hedged weasely sounding soundbite that has been effectively de-fanged by the left trying to make their attack ads stand up to some sort of academic standard of intellectual honesty.

Most people don't think that hard about this stuff. There's a time and a place for a more nuanced takedown of the Ryan plan, but for a 30-second attack add, it should be "Republicans want to End Medicare". You don't want nuance, you want blunt, emotional messages that cut to the real truth of the matter.

So yeah, Romney says he doesn't want to "dismantle" Medicare, he says he wants to give people the ability to opt-out...which experts say would undermine the single-payer part, and eventually lead to its collapse. And very recently, he's started talking up the Ryan Plan, which would end Medicare.

So does that make it "utter BS"? No, I say the utter BS when Romney tells people he wants to preserve the idea that our government must take care of the health care costs of seniors.

I have a similar take on people on the left criticizing Obama. It's good to keep it real about what he's doing, and not try to pretend he's something he's not. But it doesn't help if liberals go out and buy into the right-wing frame that Obama is the source of everything that's wrong in America right now, especially when that isn't even remotely true.

Obama can't win unless liberals support him. If they don't, then whatever clown the Republicans nominate will be President, and they'll wind up with both chambers of Congress too. I guess that'll teach him to be a moderate!

>> ^dannym3141:

>> ^Confucius:
Lol...kinda was but still cool.
Im no poison/snake/giant gecko expert here but ifn that is a long-oh-so-long POISONOUS viper arent both geckos dead? Unless geckos have some kind of immunity, or its some variety on non-poisonous.....In which case shouldnt this be under some sort of romantic gesture channel?
>> ^sillma:
that was really, really, REALLY slow-paced. I slept for an hour after starting the clip and still woke up in time for the first gecko attack.


I agree, but i was confused by the snake because it looked like it was trying to constrict. In which case, it wouldn't be poisonous? I'm no expert, someone help, i want to know if this was epic success or not!


The fact that the snake is holding the gecko in it's coils does not mean it's a constrictor. Most snakes, both venomous and nonvenomous, that consume large prey do this. It keeps the prey from escaping and is necessary so that the snake can position the prey in order to ingest it. Ingesting a prey item bigger than your head is a tricky process, especially if you don't have any hands, and once the process has begun, the snake would become extremely vulnerable.

Many lizards show some resistance to snake venoms. Several skink species, for instance, are highly resistant to elapid (cobras, kraits, adders) venom. Some geckos too show a degree of resistance.

I could be wrong about the following, but the snake in the video does not look like a pit viper to me. The neck is thin, the head shape isn't quite right, and it doesn't appear to strike like a viper. I think it is more likely to be a colubrid, perhaps a golden tree snake (Chrysopelea ornata). If so, that would mean that the snake is rear fanged, the snake would really have to bite down to inject it's relatively weak venom, and the attacking gecko is far less likely to be envenomed during a strike.

It is also probably relevant to point out that the gecko is most likely not trying to 'save his friend', but is instead reacting aggressively to the presence of a predator because of the direct benefits the gecko will receive from his actions (the harassed snake, an ambush predator who has lost the element of surprise, will leave and forage elsewhere).

I actually think this was a pointless interview. We gained no great insights, we heard no new information, etc... All of what was said has been said for weeks AND has been said better, i.e. reasons to be there and reasons not to be there.

Plus, I don't consider the CIA to be anything more than a tool anymore and hopefully it stays that way; as in the past you could make a case that the CIA was GETTING us involved in wars and shaping internal politics. I'm sure they still do this, but enough whistle-blowers came forward to create an environment were the CIA must tread carefully. Especially, after their complete and utter fuck-up of the century for the last Iraq war.

I appreciate this man's council, but in the end he has as much experience in leading a country as I do (armchair generals). He's very well informed in some international dealings, but his answer of "do nothing" is an old answer and it needs to be done away with to some degree. As it's an answer that does nothing; in fact it shows you the shear amount of apathy that our country feels is O.K. to use (like Cambodia, Ivory Coast, Rwanda, etc.). The problem as I see it is that the U.N. passed a unanimous security council resolution on Libya, a U.N. member. Libya said it would comply and then went on to do exactly what @bcglorf has said.

The solution I see is that NATO shouldn't be the watch dog here. The problem is that the U.N. is a useless body without fangs. It NEEDS fangs. The fact that EVERY security council member is not involved in this situation/resolution to me means that their "security club membership" should be nullified. I'm tired of people abusing the U.N. . It's perhaps our best way to solve many of these problems. But, when the military action is ALWAYS carried by NATO at the end of the day, I begin to believe that members that don't participate in resolutions THEY PASSED need to be kicked out of their position (I'm looking at you China).

Until the U.N. gains some fangs and the ability to enact resolutions that are passed UNANIMOUSLY (5 abstains for the countries too scared to take a stance), we will continue to carry the weight via the U.S. Armed Forces or NATO; otherwise, we let innocent people die. We could do nothing, but if we did do nothing the media needs to put the blame squarely at the feet of U.N. Security members that abstain; make them swim in the blood they've spilled by their political maneuvering called "abstain"... We don't do this, but I think it's time we did. If China wants to be a big boy, they need to learn about responsibilities related to their direct inaction. Likewise, Russia needs to learn that the Cold War is dead; holding their feet to the fire internationally might do that.

Eventually, this comes down to the media getting the story right and being willful enough to put countries to the question: Why?

Don't bring up the "reverse angle" of death and destruction. I know it will happen, but this is the cost of choosing and FIGHTING for any side. Death is everywhere; it doesn't make it right, but it makes it true...

Here is the vote for, Resolution 1973:

U.S.-Y*
Lebanon-Y
France-Y*
U.K.-Y*
Bosnia and Herzegovina-Y
Columbia-Y
Gabon-Y
Nigeria-Y
Portugal-Y
South Africa-Y

Abstained (the eternal worthless permanent security council members: China-they never do ANYTHING, and The Russian Federation-who seem to vote just to be contrary); I'll put a mark next to permanent members that abstained^:

^The Russian Federation-NA*
^China (as usual)-NA*
Brazil-NA
Germany-NA
India-NA

I find it hard to keep Russia and China on the security council (they'd whine like babies if removed) as they almost always abstain AND they don't help; in fact they do nothing. The other members are not permanent and may be cycled out in the upcoming year; making me not very concerned with their attitude.

*Permanent Security Council Members

So take it or leave it; but, I think our worldwide diplomacy from every country still revolves around the Cold War and WWII. It's terribly sad to me that we are still stuck on such ridiculous fears and ghostly machinations...

Has the world become a deus ex machina to politicians? Do they believe complex problems can be solved with the smallest of effort? This is what it seems to be coming to and it's scary to see people like Donal Trump in the runnings for president. Sarah Palin is a walking and breathing Captain Catherine Janeway in the sense that she believes she has answers and solutions that are easy to implement and as ridiculous as every piece of deus ex machina "Voyager" ever used. AND she is not alone...

I see this in our country and in others. Simplistic leanings that help no one except to further their own agenda. It's as though politicians and leaders use Rube Goldberg machines, yet these do have a purpose: they grab your attention, they pacify, they cause you to become their disease--ready to even spill the blood of what they hate. It's true in every country on the planet. So when Russia and China take the easy way out, that is what I think of them. It is also why they should NEVER be given leadership, as they seemingly don't know what it truly is or they abuse it.

/My long two cents with a little drama to get a dialogue started...

I'm sure they removed the fangs when they were young, that's what the snake charmers do, it looks impressive to tourists unless you know this secret.

Which is my favorite description for animations I enjoy. >> ^ForgedReality:
Weird. Yet interesting...