Stoning, or lapidation, is a form of capital punishment whereby a group throws stones at a person until the person dies. No individual among the group can be identified as the one who kills the subject, yet everyone involved plainly bears some degree of moral culpability. This is in contrast to the case of a judicial executioner. Slower than other forms of execution, stoning is a form of execution by torture.
The methods for carrying out stoning may vary across different histories and cultures.
For example, the Islamic Penal Code of Iran details how stoning punishments are to be carried out for adultery, and even hints in some contexts that the punishment may allow for its victims to avoid death:
Article 102 – An adulterous man shall be buried in a ditch up to near his waist and an adulterous woman up to near her chest and then stoned to death.
Article 103 – In case the person sentenced to stoning escapes the ditch in which they are buried, then if the adultery is proven by testimony then they will be returned for the punishment but if it is proven by their own confession then they will not be returned.
Monty Python (sometimes known as The Pythons) was a British surreal comedy group who created Monty Python's Flying Circus, a British television comedy sketch show that first aired on the BBC on 5 October 1969. Forty-five episodes were made over four series. The Python phenomenon developed from the television series into something larger in scope and impact, spawning touring stage shows, films, numerous albums, several books and a stage musical as well as launching the members to individual stardom. The group's influence on comedy has been compared to The Beatles' influence on music.
The television series, broadcast by the BBC from 1969 to 1974, was conceived, written and performed by members Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Terry Gilliam, Eric Idle, Terry Jones, and Michael Palin. Loosely structured as a sketch show, but with an innovative stream-of-consciousness approach (aided by Gilliam's animation), it pushed the boundaries of what was acceptable in style and content. A self-contained comedy team responsible for both writing and performing their work, the Pythons' creative control allowed them to experiment with form and content, discarding rules of television comedy. Their influence on British comedy has been apparent for years, while in North America it has coloured the work of cult performers from the early editions of Saturday Night Live through to more recent absurdist trends in television comedy. "Pythonesque" has entered the English lexicon as a result.
Don't stop looking away,
Cause I know what you're wanting to say.
But there's no place that I'd rather be, when I'm alone and speaking out.
I won't stop looking away,
Cause I know what you're wanting to say.
But there's no place that I'd rather be, when I'm alone in the conversation.
What does it feel like?
What does it feel like?
The weight of the world.
The weight of the world.
Clean on the inside.
Clean on the inside.
What will you do, what will you do to hear right?
What does it feel like?
What does it feel like?
The weight of the world.
The weight of the world.
Clean on the inside.
Clean on the inside now.
I won't stop looking away,
Cause I know what you're wanting to say.
But there's no place that I'd rather be, when I'm ahead in the conversation.
Don't stop looking away,
Oh I know what I wanted to say.
But your hold-up's afraid to be seen, so come take a ride with the two of us.
What does it feel like?
What does it feel like?
The weight of the world.
The weight of the world.
Clean on the inside.
Clean on the inside.
What will you do, what will you do to hear right?
What does it feel like?
What does it feel like?
The weight of the world.
The weight of the world.
Clean on the inside.
Clean on the inside now.
What does it feel like?
What does it feel like?
The weight of the world.
The weight of the world.
Clean on the inside.
Clean on the inside.
What will you do, what will you do to hear right?
What does it feel like?
What does it feel like?
The weight of the world.
The weight of the world.
Clean on the inside.
Du trägst den Schatten auf deinem Rücken und guckst auf deine Welt,
dir fehlt die Kraft um dich zu bücken und belügst dich hier selbst,
in einem Bruchteil der Sekunde verschwindet jegliche Denkbarkeit,
im Feuer der Verfluchten sie suchten noch die Unendlichkeit,
doch nichts
(nichts, nichts, nichts)
nichts was nicht unkenntlich bleibt,
das licht (licht, licht, licht) prügelt auf dein Fenster ein,
die Narben einer Komagesellschaft dem vierten Reich verdankt,
man sieht sie auf den Straßen laufen, schaut euch doch die leichen an,
oder die zynische Mutter die sich nichts leisten kann,
der hölzernde Vater bringt Futter und steckt ihr das Kleid in Brand,
wo fängt es an, wo hört es auf, ich hör auf mein Verstand,
zu oft hab ich Unsinn geleugnet und den guten Wein verbrannt,
ein neuer Weg erbarmt sich und zieht durch die kalten Gossen,
Meere der blauen Lagune sind schon durch den Wald geflossen,
Vielleicht erkennt uns jemand und schenkt uns bald eine Biebel,
Feuer hier, Hölle da, jene Gestalt hält das Siegel!
Nur ein Besuch, von den einsamen Verdammten,
Outback-Stimmung die wir keinem verdanken,
Weiche! (Savas:)verlass das interne Szenario,
die Wolken verschwärzen, und Satan kreist um meinen Radius!
Nur ein Besuch, von den einsamen Verdammten,
Outback-Stimmung die wir keinem verdanken,
Weiche! (Savas:)ich weiß du weißt was ich wusste,
in deiner reißenden Hölle musste ich tun was ich musste!
(klinge)
Sie tragen Kreuze auf dem Rücken in Schimmernden weißlichem Gold,
gebückte Haltung um zu zeigen das ihr euch vergeistlichen wollt,
die meisten sind Hold und denuzieren das Geständnis,
ein ebenbürdiger Blick in das Feuer bringt die Erkenntnis,
und ein schwarzes Gewand schleicht um die Mauerbegrenzung,
der Anfang einer Welt ohne jeglichen Endpunkt,
in den Gesichtern spiegelt sich Panik wieder, parieren ohne entdeckt zu werden, Satan spielt die Abendlieder,
arme Krieger ließen sich die Rüstung zerschmettern,
während sie mit kahlen Gliedern versuchten über die Brüstung zu klettern,
Letzte Rettung, scheinbar unausweichlich, das Dorf der Vernunft, unerreichlich,
die Nacht bricht das Licht, hörst du die Krähen,
sei still, denn er kommt vorbei um dich zu sehn
Nur ein Besuch, von den einsamen Verdammten,
Outback-Stimmung die wir keinem verdanken,
Weiche! (Savas:)verlass das interne Szenario,
die Wolken verschwärzen, und Satan kreist um meinen Radius!
Nur ein Besuch, von den einsamen Verdammten,
Outback-Stimmung die wir keinem verdanken,
Weiche! (Savas:)ich weiß du weißt was ich wusste,
in deiner reißenden Hölle musste ich tun was ich musste!