Fun – to do
Get your favorite celebrities' pictures for these tags:
Suit and tie
Suit, no tie
White shirt
Blue shirt
Red shirt
Pink shirt
Hawaiian shirt
Other colors
Blue jeans
Hands
Lips (mouth)
Barefoot in the sand or sand between my toes
Sunglasses
Heat up
Cool down
Cowboy
Indian
Surprise!
Smile
Frown
Puzzled
Perplexed
Deep in thought
Clueless
Angry
Sad
Happy
Eyes glazed over
Serious
Comical
Lovers
Geek
Fanning the flames of passion
Forgetful
Dubious
Presenting the evidence
Leadership
Threatening
Frightened
Holier than thou
Puppy eyes
In the crosshairs
Saving money
Speedo
Day
Night
Morning
Evening
Home
Office
Cleanshaven
Mustache
Beard
5 o’clock shadow
dressed for success
in his underwear
in his jimmies
showering
sleeping beauty
pouting
pucker up
intelligent
idiotic
literary
collect instructor
high school instructor
revolutionary
playing chess
smoking a cigarette
smoking a cigar
smoking a pipe
dipping snuff
opera gloves
dancing slow
dancing fast
dancing the Irish jig
beaten up
beating up
carving wood
cavalry
flying high
eating: food fight
eating
telephone: then and now
watching TV
weaponry: knife
spear
pistol
revolver
rifle
cannon
dying grace (death scenes, Etc.)
blue collar
white collar
exploded
driving
music: guitar
keyboards
medical: crutches
hospitalized
legal – lawyer
fighter
Friday, April 18, 2008
Quotes (Miscellaneous)
"All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence; then success is sure." - Mark Twain
Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities. Truth isn't. -- Mark Twain
"Love me when I least deserve it, because that's when I really
need it. " - Swedish proverb
"When I kill a man it's cause he needs killing." Sniper 3 quote
In time we hate that which we often fear. -- William Shakespeare
Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self. -- Cyril Connolly (1903 - 1974)
Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone you may still exist, but you have ceased to live. -- Mark Twain
Don't use words too big for the subject. Don't say 'infinitely' when you mean 'very'; otherwise you'll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite. -- C. S. Lewis (1898 - 1963)
Imagination is more important than knowledge... -- Albert Einstein
Get your facts first, and then you can distort them as much as you please. -- Mark Twain
About the most originality that any writer can hope to achieve honestly is to steal with good judgment. -- Josh Billings (1818 - 1885)
Your life story would not make a good book. Don't even try. -- Fran Lebowitz (1950 - )
I don't give a damn for a man that can only spell a word one way. -- Mark Twain
The best way to become acquainted with a subject is to write a book about it. -- Benjamin Disraeli (1804 - 1881)
The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. -- Albert Einstein
Frustration is one of the greatest things in art; satisfaction is nothing. -- Malcom Mclaren
Some circumstantial evidence is very strong, as when you find a trout in the milk. -- Henry David Thoreau (1817 - 1862)
I have been through some terrible things in my life, some of which actually happened. -- Mark Twain
The secret to creativity is knowing how to hide your sources. -- Albert Einstein
Keep writing. Keep doing it and doing it. Even in the moments when it's so hurtful to think about writing. -- Heather Armstrong, Keynote Speech, SXSW 2006
Confidence is the sexiest thing a woman can have. It's much sexier than any body part. -- Aimee Mullins, Oprah Magazine, May 2004
It's just human. We all have the jungle inside of us. We all have wants and needs and desires, strange as they may seem. If you stop to think about it, we're all pretty creative, cooking up all these fantasies. it's like a kind of poetry. -- Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider, Northern Exposure, Mister Sandman, 1994
But seduction isn’t making someone do what they don’t want to do. Seduction is enticing someone into doing what they secretly want to do already. -- Waiter Rant, Waiter Rant weblog, 11-29-05
When an actor comes to me and wants to discuss his character, I say, 'It's in the script.' If he says, 'But what's my motivation?, ' I say, 'Your salary.' -- Alfred Hitchcock (1899 - 1980)
Failure lies not in falling down. Failure lies in not getting up. (traditional Chinese proverb)
Love what you do, and you will not work a day in your life. – unknown
Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities. Truth isn't. -- Mark Twain
"Love me when I least deserve it, because that's when I really
need it. " - Swedish proverb
"When I kill a man it's cause he needs killing." Sniper 3 quote
In time we hate that which we often fear. -- William Shakespeare
Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self. -- Cyril Connolly (1903 - 1974)
Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone you may still exist, but you have ceased to live. -- Mark Twain
Don't use words too big for the subject. Don't say 'infinitely' when you mean 'very'; otherwise you'll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite. -- C. S. Lewis (1898 - 1963)
Imagination is more important than knowledge... -- Albert Einstein
Get your facts first, and then you can distort them as much as you please. -- Mark Twain
About the most originality that any writer can hope to achieve honestly is to steal with good judgment. -- Josh Billings (1818 - 1885)
Your life story would not make a good book. Don't even try. -- Fran Lebowitz (1950 - )
I don't give a damn for a man that can only spell a word one way. -- Mark Twain
The best way to become acquainted with a subject is to write a book about it. -- Benjamin Disraeli (1804 - 1881)
The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. -- Albert Einstein
Frustration is one of the greatest things in art; satisfaction is nothing. -- Malcom Mclaren
Some circumstantial evidence is very strong, as when you find a trout in the milk. -- Henry David Thoreau (1817 - 1862)
I have been through some terrible things in my life, some of which actually happened. -- Mark Twain
The secret to creativity is knowing how to hide your sources. -- Albert Einstein
Keep writing. Keep doing it and doing it. Even in the moments when it's so hurtful to think about writing. -- Heather Armstrong, Keynote Speech, SXSW 2006
Confidence is the sexiest thing a woman can have. It's much sexier than any body part. -- Aimee Mullins, Oprah Magazine, May 2004
It's just human. We all have the jungle inside of us. We all have wants and needs and desires, strange as they may seem. If you stop to think about it, we're all pretty creative, cooking up all these fantasies. it's like a kind of poetry. -- Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider, Northern Exposure, Mister Sandman, 1994
But seduction isn’t making someone do what they don’t want to do. Seduction is enticing someone into doing what they secretly want to do already. -- Waiter Rant, Waiter Rant weblog, 11-29-05
When an actor comes to me and wants to discuss his character, I say, 'It's in the script.' If he says, 'But what's my motivation?, ' I say, 'Your salary.' -- Alfred Hitchcock (1899 - 1980)
Failure lies not in falling down. Failure lies in not getting up. (traditional Chinese proverb)
Love what you do, and you will not work a day in your life. – unknown
The Man That Could Not Be Hanged
February 23, 1885
A remarkable reprieve for a man sent to the gallows
On this day in 1885, a 19-year-old man named John Lee is sent to the gallows in Exeter, England, for the murder of Ellen Keyse, a rich older woman for whom he had worked. Although he insisted he was innocent, Lee had been convicted and sentenced to death by hanging. However, after the noose was put around his neck and the lever that would release the floor beneath his feet was pulled, something malfunctioned and Lee was not dropped. Strangely, the equipment had been tested and found to be in working order. In facts, weights used in a test run plunged to the ground as expected. The hanging was attempted two more times, but when Lee stood on the trap door, and the lever was pulled, nothing happened. He was then sent back to prison.
On November 15, 1884, Keyse, who had been a maid to Queen Victoria, was found dead in a pantry next to Lee's room. Her head was severely battered and her throat cut. There was no direct evidence of Lee's guilt; the case was made solely on circumstantial evidence. The alleged motive was Lee's resentment at Keyse's mean treatment.
The authorities, mystified at the gallows' inexplicable malfunction, decided to ascribe it to an act of God. Lee was removed from death row, his sentence commuted, and he spent the next 22 years in prison. After he was released, he emigrated to America. The cause of Lee's remarkable reprieve was never discovered.
Condemned prisoners no longer have a chance at such reprieves. Even when there are mishaps in carrying out an execution (in one case, an executioner failed to properly find a vein for a lethal injection), authorities follow through until the prisoner has been put to death.
A remarkable reprieve for a man sent to the gallows
On this day in 1885, a 19-year-old man named John Lee is sent to the gallows in Exeter, England, for the murder of Ellen Keyse, a rich older woman for whom he had worked. Although he insisted he was innocent, Lee had been convicted and sentenced to death by hanging. However, after the noose was put around his neck and the lever that would release the floor beneath his feet was pulled, something malfunctioned and Lee was not dropped. Strangely, the equipment had been tested and found to be in working order. In facts, weights used in a test run plunged to the ground as expected. The hanging was attempted two more times, but when Lee stood on the trap door, and the lever was pulled, nothing happened. He was then sent back to prison.
On November 15, 1884, Keyse, who had been a maid to Queen Victoria, was found dead in a pantry next to Lee's room. Her head was severely battered and her throat cut. There was no direct evidence of Lee's guilt; the case was made solely on circumstantial evidence. The alleged motive was Lee's resentment at Keyse's mean treatment.
The authorities, mystified at the gallows' inexplicable malfunction, decided to ascribe it to an act of God. Lee was removed from death row, his sentence commuted, and he spent the next 22 years in prison. After he was released, he emigrated to America. The cause of Lee's remarkable reprieve was never discovered.
Condemned prisoners no longer have a chance at such reprieves. Even when there are mishaps in carrying out an execution (in one case, an executioner failed to properly find a vein for a lethal injection), authorities follow through until the prisoner has been put to death.
Christmas Cookie Recipe -- This is Hilarious (imo)
Christmas Cookie Ingredients:
1 cup of water
1 tsp. baking soda
1 cup of sugar
1 tsp. salt
1 cup of brown sugar
lemon juice
4 large eggs
1 cup nuts
2 cups of dried fruit
1 bottle Jose Cuervo Tequila
Sample the Cuervo to check quality. Take a large bowl, check the Cuervo
again, to be sure it is of the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink.
Turn on the electric mixer...Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.
Add one teaspoon of sugar...Beat again. At this point it's best to make
sure the Cuervo is still OK, try another cup ... just in case.
Turn off the mixerer thingy. Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck
in the cup of dried fruit, Pick the frigging fruit off floor... Mix on
the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers just pry it
loose with a drewscriver. Sample the Cuervo to check for tonsisticity.
Next, sift two cups of salt, or something. Who giveshz a sheet. Check the Jose
Cuervo. Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Add
a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find. Greash the oven.
Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over. Don't forget to
beat off the turner. Finally, throw the bowl through the window, finish
the Cose Juervo and make sure to put the stove in the dishwasher.
CHERRY MISTMAS
1 cup of water
1 tsp. baking soda
1 cup of sugar
1 tsp. salt
1 cup of brown sugar
lemon juice
4 large eggs
1 cup nuts
2 cups of dried fruit
1 bottle Jose Cuervo Tequila
Sample the Cuervo to check quality. Take a large bowl, check the Cuervo
again, to be sure it is of the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink.
Turn on the electric mixer...Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.
Add one teaspoon of sugar...Beat again. At this point it's best to make
sure the Cuervo is still OK, try another cup ... just in case.
Turn off the mixerer thingy. Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck
in the cup of dried fruit, Pick the frigging fruit off floor... Mix on
the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers just pry it
loose with a drewscriver. Sample the Cuervo to check for tonsisticity.
Next, sift two cups of salt, or something. Who giveshz a sheet. Check the Jose
Cuervo. Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Add
a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find. Greash the oven.
Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over. Don't forget to
beat off the turner. Finally, throw the bowl through the window, finish
the Cose Juervo and make sure to put the stove in the dishwasher.
CHERRY MISTMAS
Guidelines for Submitting Fan Fiction
Finish your story! Readers will not remember your post that is "Chapter One" when “Chapter Two” comes out . If you have a story to tell, tell it all--then submit it. The only exception to this is what I call "loose story arcs". You can have a story that is complete and standing on it's own with no dangling story lines that is posted, then come back to those same characters and situations in a second story. Each story is its own, though related. These types of stories are usually marked as Part X of a Series.
Verify your spelling and grammar! A few errors here and there are to be expected, but if your story is riddled with mistakes, it really detracts from the enjoyment of the story. Your English teacher was right--spelling DOES count in the real world.
Verify your spelling and grammar! A few errors here and there are to be expected, but if your story is riddled with mistakes, it really detracts from the enjoyment of the story. Your English teacher was right--spelling DOES count in the real world.
Writer's Definitions
Fan fiction – fiction written by fans about characters created by someone else.
Slash – fiction involving intimate sexual relationships between same sex couples (male)
Fem slash – fiction involving intimate sexual between same sex couples (female)
Het – fiction involving intimate sexual relationships between opposite sex couples
Gen – fiction that focuses more on plot than on relationships between couples
Canon – that which is sanctioned as being part of the storyline by the original creators
AU – fiction that departs from canon at some point
PWP (“Plot? What Plot?” or “Porn without plot”) – fiction that focuses more on sex than plot
Slash – fiction involving intimate sexual relationships between same sex couples (male)
Fem slash – fiction involving intimate sexual between same sex couples (female)
Het – fiction involving intimate sexual relationships between opposite sex couples
Gen – fiction that focuses more on plot than on relationships between couples
Canon – that which is sanctioned as being part of the storyline by the original creators
AU – fiction that departs from canon at some point
PWP (“Plot? What Plot?” or “Porn without plot”) – fiction that focuses more on sex than plot
Birthday Calendar
I think this is already submitted to blog but check it out first
Birthday Calendar
This link is interesting (I thought)
http://www.paulsadowski.com/birthday.asp
You plug in name and date of birth and it tells you exactly how old you are (to
the sec) some interesting statistics about your birth year, your birth stone,
etc. etc. etc.
Birthday Calendar
This link is interesting (I thought)
http://www.paulsadowski.com/birthday.asp
You plug in name and date of birth and it tells you exactly how old you are (to
the sec) some interesting statistics about your birth year, your birth stone,
etc. etc. etc.
WHY ENGLISH TEACHERS DIE YOUNG
This may be a repeat, but it’s still funny.
28 REASONS WHY ENGLISH TEACHERS DIE YOUNG
Or, Actual Analogies and Metaphors Found in High School Essays. (Maybe they're using "analogy" as a metaphor for "simile." Otherwise, you have to suspect the quality of the English teacher who distributed this.)
-----
1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
6. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
7. He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.
9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
11. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.
12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
16. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.
18. Even in his last years, Grand pappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
19. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
20. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
23. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.
25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
26. Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser.
27. She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
28. It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
28 REASONS WHY ENGLISH TEACHERS DIE YOUNG
Or, Actual Analogies and Metaphors Found in High School Essays. (Maybe they're using "analogy" as a metaphor for "simile." Otherwise, you have to suspect the quality of the English teacher who distributed this.)
-----
1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
6. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
7. He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.
9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
11. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.
12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
16. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.
18. Even in his last years, Grand pappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
19. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
20. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
23. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.
25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
26. Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser.
27. She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
28. It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
Please Do Not Commit Suicide!
If you are considering suicide, here are some things to think about.
Reasons young people give for considering suicide:
My parents don’t know I’m alive.
I’m not attractive.
My classmates ignore me.
I have no money, no job, no future.
I want to hurt the one who hurt me.
I’m in trouble and there’s no way out.
I hate myself.
Other people commit suicide.
My troubles will never end.
Nobody cares for me.
My troubles are too big to handle.
And some answers:
My parents don’t know I’m alive.
It probably often feels that way. Parents worry about money, they have many problems, and of course, they can be selfish. They think that “things” are important and forget to show love to their own children. You need to help them know how you are feeling. Talk to them. Pick a time when they can listen.
I’m not attractive.
That could be so, but sometimes we are too hard on ourselves when we look in the mirror. You may think other kids despise you because of your hair or height or skin color, or whatever. It just isn’t so. I know it sounds corny, but beauty is only skin deep. It’s what’s inside that counts. Ugly and handicapped people have succeeded. Go and talk to one of them.
My classmates ignore me.
That’s also likely to be true. Most kids – and adults – think of themselves first. Look around and see all the loners. Strange as it may seem, happiness is in serving others. The more you do for others, the less you mope around for yourself.
I have no money, no job, no future.
Sure, unemployment is high and money is scarce. But you don’t know the future. Poor people make it to the top. Study. Make yourself useful to someone. Work for low wages or no wages. Make a name for yourself that you are friendly and willing to learn.
I want to hurt the one who hurt me.
We all feel that way at times – I will get even! Wouldn’t revenge be great? But to take your life is wrong. Is that really the way you want to come face to face with your Creator? And to repay evil for evil is wrong. God says that vengeance belongs to Him. Anyway, just imagine how much better He could extract revenge than you, if that is in His righteous judgment! Try forgiving. It will amaze you – and the one you forgive.
I’m in trouble and there’s no way out.
You may be in trouble, but there is a way out. Drugs, despair and death are not the answers. Talk to a counselor, a minister or preacher, or some adult you trust.
I hate myself.
You may have been put down so often that you start believing that you are no good. That’s not true. Don’t believe the lies. You have worth. No one can put a price or a value on the human soul. It is something that will live on for eternity. Nothing can destroy the human soul, not even an atomic explosion. So don’t go blaming yourself for things that are not your fault. Do something worthwhile and see how it changes how you feel about yourself.
Other people commit suicide.
Yes, they are, and it really shakes the community. So if you think that committing suicide will draw attention to yourself and teach others a lesson, it will, that’s for sure. But suicide is not the answer. Wait a few days. I truly believe that anyone who is seriously considering suicide as an option is not thinking clearly or wisely. Please talk to someone first.
My troubles will never end.
It seems that way right now, but you can pray and God will hear. Once you are out of this life, you can never return. Remember, the soul is eternal. When you die, you will go somewhere. What awaits you in the next life?
Nobody cares for me.
It’s a rough and evil world. Even if no one else cares for you, God does. He created you, and He has some purpose for you. God created you for fellowship with Him. Ask Him what you should do.
My troubles are too big to handle.
It certainly seems that way sometimes. And the troubles of no two people are exactly alike, so no one can really understand you. But God can! All problems in life are due to sin, and Jesus Christ died on the cross to take away sin. He died so that you can live. Find out about Him. He’s waiting for you.
Is suicide an unpardonable Sin?
No -- not if you are "saved" or a "believer". Here's why.
Whether or not you yourself have ever contemplated suicide, you probably know someone who has considered it. People in such despair may believe they are unloved and life has no purpose; or perhaps they want to escape a painful situation that seems hopeless.
We often don’t realize that individuals around us – even Christians – are struggling with such feelings. Ask God to make your spirit sensitive to needs around you. If a person says, “Sometimes I feel life isn’t worth living,” recognize that this may be a cry for help. You might be the only person he or she feels free to approach. Listen lovingly – genuine love is the greatest cure in the world.
Many wonder if God would forgive suicide. Jesus took on all our sin at the Cross, and His grace covers our worst sins, even in death. But that is a terrible excuse to check out of life – suicide is still rebellion against God’s will. The Lord has created each of us for a great purpose, and we were ransomed at great price!
1 Cor 6:19-20 What? know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own? For ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God's.
God never turns away anyone who cries out to Him.
John 6:37 All that the Father giveth me shall come to me; and him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.
He’ll rescue you if you let Him! When you submit to Him, He’ll take you from that pit of destruction and give you security, regardless of how far down you are or strong the quicksand feels.
He is our refuse and strength, “a very present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1). Not a past help or a future help, but a present help. His awesome power and love can radically transform your life.
If you are "lost" and have not accepted Christ's death on the cross as atonement (or payment) for your sins, then YES -- suicide is the unpardonable sin -- because once you are dead, it is too late for you to accept salvation by faith through grace.
Reasons young people give for considering suicide:
My parents don’t know I’m alive.
I’m not attractive.
My classmates ignore me.
I have no money, no job, no future.
I want to hurt the one who hurt me.
I’m in trouble and there’s no way out.
I hate myself.
Other people commit suicide.
My troubles will never end.
Nobody cares for me.
My troubles are too big to handle.
And some answers:
My parents don’t know I’m alive.
It probably often feels that way. Parents worry about money, they have many problems, and of course, they can be selfish. They think that “things” are important and forget to show love to their own children. You need to help them know how you are feeling. Talk to them. Pick a time when they can listen.
I’m not attractive.
That could be so, but sometimes we are too hard on ourselves when we look in the mirror. You may think other kids despise you because of your hair or height or skin color, or whatever. It just isn’t so. I know it sounds corny, but beauty is only skin deep. It’s what’s inside that counts. Ugly and handicapped people have succeeded. Go and talk to one of them.
My classmates ignore me.
That’s also likely to be true. Most kids – and adults – think of themselves first. Look around and see all the loners. Strange as it may seem, happiness is in serving others. The more you do for others, the less you mope around for yourself.
I have no money, no job, no future.
Sure, unemployment is high and money is scarce. But you don’t know the future. Poor people make it to the top. Study. Make yourself useful to someone. Work for low wages or no wages. Make a name for yourself that you are friendly and willing to learn.
I want to hurt the one who hurt me.
We all feel that way at times – I will get even! Wouldn’t revenge be great? But to take your life is wrong. Is that really the way you want to come face to face with your Creator? And to repay evil for evil is wrong. God says that vengeance belongs to Him. Anyway, just imagine how much better He could extract revenge than you, if that is in His righteous judgment! Try forgiving. It will amaze you – and the one you forgive.
I’m in trouble and there’s no way out.
You may be in trouble, but there is a way out. Drugs, despair and death are not the answers. Talk to a counselor, a minister or preacher, or some adult you trust.
I hate myself.
You may have been put down so often that you start believing that you are no good. That’s not true. Don’t believe the lies. You have worth. No one can put a price or a value on the human soul. It is something that will live on for eternity. Nothing can destroy the human soul, not even an atomic explosion. So don’t go blaming yourself for things that are not your fault. Do something worthwhile and see how it changes how you feel about yourself.
Other people commit suicide.
Yes, they are, and it really shakes the community. So if you think that committing suicide will draw attention to yourself and teach others a lesson, it will, that’s for sure. But suicide is not the answer. Wait a few days. I truly believe that anyone who is seriously considering suicide as an option is not thinking clearly or wisely. Please talk to someone first.
My troubles will never end.
It seems that way right now, but you can pray and God will hear. Once you are out of this life, you can never return. Remember, the soul is eternal. When you die, you will go somewhere. What awaits you in the next life?
Nobody cares for me.
It’s a rough and evil world. Even if no one else cares for you, God does. He created you, and He has some purpose for you. God created you for fellowship with Him. Ask Him what you should do.
My troubles are too big to handle.
It certainly seems that way sometimes. And the troubles of no two people are exactly alike, so no one can really understand you. But God can! All problems in life are due to sin, and Jesus Christ died on the cross to take away sin. He died so that you can live. Find out about Him. He’s waiting for you.
Is suicide an unpardonable Sin?
No -- not if you are "saved" or a "believer". Here's why.
Whether or not you yourself have ever contemplated suicide, you probably know someone who has considered it. People in such despair may believe they are unloved and life has no purpose; or perhaps they want to escape a painful situation that seems hopeless.
We often don’t realize that individuals around us – even Christians – are struggling with such feelings. Ask God to make your spirit sensitive to needs around you. If a person says, “Sometimes I feel life isn’t worth living,” recognize that this may be a cry for help. You might be the only person he or she feels free to approach. Listen lovingly – genuine love is the greatest cure in the world.
Many wonder if God would forgive suicide. Jesus took on all our sin at the Cross, and His grace covers our worst sins, even in death. But that is a terrible excuse to check out of life – suicide is still rebellion against God’s will. The Lord has created each of us for a great purpose, and we were ransomed at great price!
1 Cor 6:19-20 What? know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own? For ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God's.
God never turns away anyone who cries out to Him.
John 6:37 All that the Father giveth me shall come to me; and him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.
He’ll rescue you if you let Him! When you submit to Him, He’ll take you from that pit of destruction and give you security, regardless of how far down you are or strong the quicksand feels.
He is our refuse and strength, “a very present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1). Not a past help or a future help, but a present help. His awesome power and love can radically transform your life.
If you are "lost" and have not accepted Christ's death on the cross as atonement (or payment) for your sins, then YES -- suicide is the unpardonable sin -- because once you are dead, it is too late for you to accept salvation by faith through grace.
How to Blog
How to blog by Tony pierce, 110
write every day.
If you think you’re a good writer, write twice a day.
Don’t be afraid to do anything. In fact if you’re afraid of something, do it. Then do it again. And again.
Cuss like a sailor.
Don’t tell your mom, your work, your friends, the people you want to date, or the people you want to work for about your blog. if they find out and you'd rather they didn’t read it, ask them nicely to grant you your privacy.
Have comments. don’t be upset if no one writes in your comments for a long time. Eventually they'll write in there. if people start acting mean in your comments, ask them to stop, they probably will.
Have an email address clearly displayed on your blog. Sometimes people want to tell you that you rock in private.
Don’t worry very much about the design of your blog. Image is a fake out.
Use Blogger. It’s easy, it's free; and because they are owned by Google, your blog will get spidered better, you will show up in more search results, and more people will end up at your blog. Besides, all the other blogging software & alternatives pretty much suck.
Use spellchecker unless you’re completely totally keeping it real. But even then you might want to use it if you think you wrote something really good.
Say exactly what you want to say no matter what it looks like on the screen. then say something else. Then keep going. And when you’re done, re-read it, and edit it and hit publish and forget about it.
Link like crazy. Link anyone who links you, link your favorites, link your friends. don’t be a prude. Linking is what separates bloggers from apes. And especially link if you're trying to prove a point and someone else said it first. it lends credibility even if you’re full of s--t.
if you haven’t written about sex, religion, and politics in a week you’re probably playing it too safe, which means you probably f--ked up on #5, in which case start a second blog and keep your big mouth shut about it this time.
remember: nobody cares which N*Sync member you are, what State you are, which Party of Five kid you are, or which Weezer song you are. the second you put one of those things on your blog you need to delete your blog and try out for the marching band. similarly, nobody gives a s--t what the weather is like in your town, nobody wants you to change their cursor into a butterfly, nobody wants to vote on whether your blog is hot or not, and nobody gives a rat ass what song you’re listening to. Write something Real for you, about you, every day.
Don’t be afraid if you think something has been said before. it has. and better. big whoop. say it anyway using your own words as honestly as you can. just let it out.
get Site Meter and make it available for everyone to see. if you're embarrassed that not a lot of people are clicking over to your page, don’t be embarrassed by the number, be embarrassed that you actually give a crap about hits to your gay blog. it really is just a blog. And hits really don’t mean anything. you want Site Meter, though, to see who is linking you so you can thank them and so you can link them back. Similarly, use Technorati, but don’t obsess. Write.
People like pictures. Use them. Save them to your own server. Or use Blogger's free service. if you don’t know how to do it, learn. Also get a Buzznet account. Several things will happen once you start blogging, one of them is you will learn new things. That’s a good thing.
Before you hit Save as Draft or Publish Post, select all and copy your masterpiece. You are using a computer and the internet, s--t can happen. No need to lose a good post.
Push the envelope in what you’re writing about and how you’re saying it. be more and more honest. Get to the root of things. Start at the root of things and get deeper. Dig. Think out loud. Keep typing. Keep going. Eventually you'll find a little treasure chest. Every time you blog this can happen if you let it.
Change your style. Mimic people. Write beautiful lies. Dream in public. Kiss and tell. Finger and tell. Cry scream fight sing f--k and don’t be afraid to be funny. The easiest thing to do is whine when you write. Don’t be lazy. audblog at least once a week.
Write open letters. Make lists. Call people out on their bulls--t. Lead by example. Invent and reinvent yourself. Start by writing about what happened to you today. For example today I told a hot girl how wonderfully hot she is.
When in doubt review something. There are not enough reviews on blogs. Review a movie you just saw, a TV show, a cd, a kiss you just got, a restaurant, a hike you just took, anything.
Constantly write about the town that you live in.
out yourself. Tell your secrets. You can always delete them later.
Don’t use your real name. Don’t write about your work unless you don’t care about getting fired.
Don’t be afraid to come across as an a-swipe. own you’re a-s-wipedness.
Nobody likes poems. Don’t put your poems on your blog. Not even if they’re incredible. Especially if they’re incredible. Odds are they’re not incredible. Bad poems are funny sometimes though, so fine, put your dumb poems on there. Whatever.
Tell us about your friends.
Don’t apologize about not blogging. Nobody cares. Just start blogging again.
Read tons of blogs and leave nice comments.
If you're going to rip off/mimic/be inspired by one blogger make it raymi, she’s perfect.
The average blog is at least 6 inches long.
Blogs stay hard for a week.
Blogs won't tell you size doesn't count.
Blogs don't get too excited.
Blogs never suffer from performance anxiety.
Blogs are easy to pick up.
You can fondle a blog in a supermarket.... and you know how firm it is before you take it home.
Blogs can get away any weekend.
With a blog you can get a single room.... and you won't have to check-in as Mrs. Blog.
A blog will always respect you in the morning.
You can go to a movie with a blog.... and see the movie.
You can go to a drive-in with a blog.... and you can stay in the front seat.
With a blog you can always wait until you get home.
A blog won't eat all the popcorn.... or send you out for Milk Duds.
A blog won't drag you to a John Wayne Film Festival.
A blog won't ask: "Am I the first?".
A blog doesn't care if you're a virgin.
Blogs won't tell other blogs you're a virgin.
Blogs won't tell anyone you're not a virgin anymore.
With a blog you don't have to be a virgin more than once.
Blogs can handle rejection.
Blogs won't pout if you have a headache.
Blogs won't care what time of the month it is.
Blogs never want to get it on when your nails are wet.
Blogs won't give it up for Lent.
With a blog you never have to say you're sorry.
Afterwards, a blog won't: ...want to shake hands and be friends.
...say, "I'll call you a cab".
...tell you he's not the marrying kind.
...tell you he is the marrying kind.
...call his ex-wife or therapist.
...take you to confession.
Blogs don't leave you wondering for a month
Blogs won't make you go to the drugstore.
Blogs won't tell you a vasectomy will ruin it for them.
A blog a day keeps the OB-GYN away.
A blog won't work your crossword with ink.
A blog isn't allergic to your cat.
With a blog you don't have to play Florence Nightingale during the Flu season.
Blogs never answer your phone or borrow your car.
A blog won't eat all your food or drink all your liquor.
A blog doesn't turn your bathroom into a library.
A blog won't go through your medicine chest.
A blog doesn't use your toothbrush, roll-on, or hairspray.
Blogs won't leave hair on the sink or a ring in the tub.
Blogs won't write your name and number on the men's room wall.
Blogs don't have sex hang-ups.
Blogs won't make you wear kinky clothes or go to bed with your boots on.
Blogs aren't into rope & leather, talking dirty, or swinging with fruits & nuts.
You can have as many blogs as you can handle.
You can eat blogs when you feel like it.
Blogs never need a round of applause.
Blogs won't ask: "Am I the best? How was it? Did you come? How many times?"
Blogs aren't jealous of your Gynecologist, Ski Instructor, or Hair Dresser.
A blog won't want to join your sports group.
A blog never wants to improve your mind.
Blogs aren't into meaningful conversations.
Blogs won't ask about your Last Lover.... or speculate about your next one.
A blog will never make a scene because there are other blogs in the refrigerator.
A blog won't mind hiding in the refrigerator when your mother is over.
No matter how old you are, you can always get a fresh blog.
Blogs don't leave whisker burns, fall asleep on your chest, or drool on the pillow.
A blog won't give you a hickey.
Blogs can stay up ALL night.... and you won't have to sleep on the wet spot.
Blogs don't leave dirty shorts on the floor.
A blog never forgets to flush the toilet.
A blog doesn't flush the toilet while you are taking a shower.
With a blog, the toilet seat is always the way you left it.
Blogs don't compare you to a center fold.
Blogs don't count to 10.
Blogs don't tell you they liked you better with long hair.
A blog will never leave you ... for another woman.
...for another man.
...for another blog.
A blog will never call and say "I have to work late, Honey", and then come home smelling like another
woman.
A blog never snaps your bra, pinches your butt, or gives you a snuggy.
You always know where a blog has been.
A blog never has to call "the wife".
Blogs never have mid-life crises.
A blog won't leave you for a cheerleader or an ex-nun.
Blogs don't play the guitar and try to find themselves.
You won't find out later that your blog ... is married.
...is on penicillin.
...likes you - but loves your brother.
A blog doesn't have softball practice on the day you move.
Blogs never tell you what they did on R&R.
A blog won't ask for a promotion just when you're up for a promotion.
Blogs don't care if you make more money than they do.
Blogs won't wear a leisure suit to your office Christmas party.
A blog won't leave town on New Year's Eve.
A blog won't take you to disco and dump you for a flashy outfit.
Blogs never want to take you home to mom.
A blog doesn't care if you always spent the holidays with your family.
A blog won't ask to be put through Med School.
A blog won't tell you he's outgrown you intellectually.
Blogs never expect you to have little blogs.
Blogs don't say "Let's keep trying until we have a boy".
It's easy to drop a blog.
A blog will never contest a divorce, demand a property settlement, or seek custody of anything.
A blog NEVER leaves the toilet seat up.
A blog lasts longer than seven seconds.
A blog won't expect you to cook dinner when you're not hungry.
A blog will never expect you to sit in the wet spot IT makes.
A blog doesn't care if you go shopping.
A blog doesn't mind when your mother visits.
A blog does as many chores as a man, with a LOT less complaining.
Having a blog can't make you pregnant.
A blog won't tease you because you once liked Barry Manilow.
If a blog had a sports car, it wouldn't love it more than you.
A blog doesn't want to go out alone with the other blogs.
A blog doesn't sulk.
A blog wouldn't waste its money on Playblog magazine.
A blog won't switch the TV channel.
A blog doesn't have to sleep with the windows open.
A blog doesn't snore.
A blog can't interrupt.
A blog doesn't care that you can't find your car's carburetor.
A blog doesn't think black leather bikinis are neat.
A blog doesn't belch. Or fart.
A blog doesn't mind having pantyhose dry in the bathroom.
A blog doesn't care that you don't balance your checkbook.
A good blog is easy to find.
A blog can't pout.
A blog doesn't have a mother.
A blog doesn't have friends who will drink your blog.
A blog wouldn't yell if you dented the car.
A blog won't get jealous if you enjoy another blog.
A blog won't care if you gain five pounds.
A blog will be there for anytime of the month.
A blog doesn't want children.
A blog doesn't think poetry is queer.
A blog isn't ready until you're ready.
If the blog is finished before you are, you can have another blog.
Hangovers from too much blogging go away.
A blog tastes good.
Having a blog doesn't make you want to take a shower.
A blog will never invite friends home for dinner without calling.
A blog's life does not revolve around the football.
A blog would never make fun of your new outfit.
A blog never needs a shave.
You don't have to let a blog win.
A blog doesn't care what toppings you get on the pizza.
Just because you have dinner with a blog doesn't mean you have to sleep with a blog too.
A blog doesn't have morning breath.
A blog is happy to go where ever you want to go.
A blog will never drink the last blog.
A blog will never take the newspaper apart before you've read it.
When a blog is finished, it doesn't roll over and go to sleep.
A blog wouldn't mind if you wanted it to wear a condom.
A blog is never temperamental.
A blog will never complain about your cooking.
A cold blog is a good blog.
A blog will never worry about losing its hair.
A big, fat blog is nice to have.
A blog won't steal the covers.
You don't have to laugh at a blog's jokes.
A blog won't mind at all if you're not in the mood for blog.
You can enjoy a blog when you are on your period.
write every day.
If you think you’re a good writer, write twice a day.
Don’t be afraid to do anything. In fact if you’re afraid of something, do it. Then do it again. And again.
Cuss like a sailor.
Don’t tell your mom, your work, your friends, the people you want to date, or the people you want to work for about your blog. if they find out and you'd rather they didn’t read it, ask them nicely to grant you your privacy.
Have comments. don’t be upset if no one writes in your comments for a long time. Eventually they'll write in there. if people start acting mean in your comments, ask them to stop, they probably will.
Have an email address clearly displayed on your blog. Sometimes people want to tell you that you rock in private.
Don’t worry very much about the design of your blog. Image is a fake out.
Use Blogger. It’s easy, it's free; and because they are owned by Google, your blog will get spidered better, you will show up in more search results, and more people will end up at your blog. Besides, all the other blogging software & alternatives pretty much suck.
Use spellchecker unless you’re completely totally keeping it real. But even then you might want to use it if you think you wrote something really good.
Say exactly what you want to say no matter what it looks like on the screen. then say something else. Then keep going. And when you’re done, re-read it, and edit it and hit publish and forget about it.
Link like crazy. Link anyone who links you, link your favorites, link your friends. don’t be a prude. Linking is what separates bloggers from apes. And especially link if you're trying to prove a point and someone else said it first. it lends credibility even if you’re full of s--t.
if you haven’t written about sex, religion, and politics in a week you’re probably playing it too safe, which means you probably f--ked up on #5, in which case start a second blog and keep your big mouth shut about it this time.
remember: nobody cares which N*Sync member you are, what State you are, which Party of Five kid you are, or which Weezer song you are. the second you put one of those things on your blog you need to delete your blog and try out for the marching band. similarly, nobody gives a s--t what the weather is like in your town, nobody wants you to change their cursor into a butterfly, nobody wants to vote on whether your blog is hot or not, and nobody gives a rat ass what song you’re listening to. Write something Real for you, about you, every day.
Don’t be afraid if you think something has been said before. it has. and better. big whoop. say it anyway using your own words as honestly as you can. just let it out.
get Site Meter and make it available for everyone to see. if you're embarrassed that not a lot of people are clicking over to your page, don’t be embarrassed by the number, be embarrassed that you actually give a crap about hits to your gay blog. it really is just a blog. And hits really don’t mean anything. you want Site Meter, though, to see who is linking you so you can thank them and so you can link them back. Similarly, use Technorati, but don’t obsess. Write.
People like pictures. Use them. Save them to your own server. Or use Blogger's free service. if you don’t know how to do it, learn. Also get a Buzznet account. Several things will happen once you start blogging, one of them is you will learn new things. That’s a good thing.
Before you hit Save as Draft or Publish Post, select all and copy your masterpiece. You are using a computer and the internet, s--t can happen. No need to lose a good post.
Push the envelope in what you’re writing about and how you’re saying it. be more and more honest. Get to the root of things. Start at the root of things and get deeper. Dig. Think out loud. Keep typing. Keep going. Eventually you'll find a little treasure chest. Every time you blog this can happen if you let it.
Change your style. Mimic people. Write beautiful lies. Dream in public. Kiss and tell. Finger and tell. Cry scream fight sing f--k and don’t be afraid to be funny. The easiest thing to do is whine when you write. Don’t be lazy. audblog at least once a week.
Write open letters. Make lists. Call people out on their bulls--t. Lead by example. Invent and reinvent yourself. Start by writing about what happened to you today. For example today I told a hot girl how wonderfully hot she is.
When in doubt review something. There are not enough reviews on blogs. Review a movie you just saw, a TV show, a cd, a kiss you just got, a restaurant, a hike you just took, anything.
Constantly write about the town that you live in.
out yourself. Tell your secrets. You can always delete them later.
Don’t use your real name. Don’t write about your work unless you don’t care about getting fired.
Don’t be afraid to come across as an a-swipe. own you’re a-s-wipedness.
Nobody likes poems. Don’t put your poems on your blog. Not even if they’re incredible. Especially if they’re incredible. Odds are they’re not incredible. Bad poems are funny sometimes though, so fine, put your dumb poems on there. Whatever.
Tell us about your friends.
Don’t apologize about not blogging. Nobody cares. Just start blogging again.
Read tons of blogs and leave nice comments.
If you're going to rip off/mimic/be inspired by one blogger make it raymi, she’s perfect.
The average blog is at least 6 inches long.
Blogs stay hard for a week.
Blogs won't tell you size doesn't count.
Blogs don't get too excited.
Blogs never suffer from performance anxiety.
Blogs are easy to pick up.
You can fondle a blog in a supermarket.... and you know how firm it is before you take it home.
Blogs can get away any weekend.
With a blog you can get a single room.... and you won't have to check-in as Mrs. Blog.
A blog will always respect you in the morning.
You can go to a movie with a blog.... and see the movie.
You can go to a drive-in with a blog.... and you can stay in the front seat.
With a blog you can always wait until you get home.
A blog won't eat all the popcorn.... or send you out for Milk Duds.
A blog won't drag you to a John Wayne Film Festival.
A blog won't ask: "Am I the first?".
A blog doesn't care if you're a virgin.
Blogs won't tell other blogs you're a virgin.
Blogs won't tell anyone you're not a virgin anymore.
With a blog you don't have to be a virgin more than once.
Blogs can handle rejection.
Blogs won't pout if you have a headache.
Blogs won't care what time of the month it is.
Blogs never want to get it on when your nails are wet.
Blogs won't give it up for Lent.
With a blog you never have to say you're sorry.
Afterwards, a blog won't: ...want to shake hands and be friends.
...say, "I'll call you a cab".
...tell you he's not the marrying kind.
...tell you he is the marrying kind.
...call his ex-wife or therapist.
...take you to confession.
Blogs don't leave you wondering for a month
Blogs won't make you go to the drugstore.
Blogs won't tell you a vasectomy will ruin it for them.
A blog a day keeps the OB-GYN away.
A blog won't work your crossword with ink.
A blog isn't allergic to your cat.
With a blog you don't have to play Florence Nightingale during the Flu season.
Blogs never answer your phone or borrow your car.
A blog won't eat all your food or drink all your liquor.
A blog doesn't turn your bathroom into a library.
A blog won't go through your medicine chest.
A blog doesn't use your toothbrush, roll-on, or hairspray.
Blogs won't leave hair on the sink or a ring in the tub.
Blogs won't write your name and number on the men's room wall.
Blogs don't have sex hang-ups.
Blogs won't make you wear kinky clothes or go to bed with your boots on.
Blogs aren't into rope & leather, talking dirty, or swinging with fruits & nuts.
You can have as many blogs as you can handle.
You can eat blogs when you feel like it.
Blogs never need a round of applause.
Blogs won't ask: "Am I the best? How was it? Did you come? How many times?"
Blogs aren't jealous of your Gynecologist, Ski Instructor, or Hair Dresser.
A blog won't want to join your sports group.
A blog never wants to improve your mind.
Blogs aren't into meaningful conversations.
Blogs won't ask about your Last Lover.... or speculate about your next one.
A blog will never make a scene because there are other blogs in the refrigerator.
A blog won't mind hiding in the refrigerator when your mother is over.
No matter how old you are, you can always get a fresh blog.
Blogs don't leave whisker burns, fall asleep on your chest, or drool on the pillow.
A blog won't give you a hickey.
Blogs can stay up ALL night.... and you won't have to sleep on the wet spot.
Blogs don't leave dirty shorts on the floor.
A blog never forgets to flush the toilet.
A blog doesn't flush the toilet while you are taking a shower.
With a blog, the toilet seat is always the way you left it.
Blogs don't compare you to a center fold.
Blogs don't count to 10.
Blogs don't tell you they liked you better with long hair.
A blog will never leave you ... for another woman.
...for another man.
...for another blog.
A blog will never call and say "I have to work late, Honey", and then come home smelling like another
woman.
A blog never snaps your bra, pinches your butt, or gives you a snuggy.
You always know where a blog has been.
A blog never has to call "the wife".
Blogs never have mid-life crises.
A blog won't leave you for a cheerleader or an ex-nun.
Blogs don't play the guitar and try to find themselves.
You won't find out later that your blog ... is married.
...is on penicillin.
...likes you - but loves your brother.
A blog doesn't have softball practice on the day you move.
Blogs never tell you what they did on R&R.
A blog won't ask for a promotion just when you're up for a promotion.
Blogs don't care if you make more money than they do.
Blogs won't wear a leisure suit to your office Christmas party.
A blog won't leave town on New Year's Eve.
A blog won't take you to disco and dump you for a flashy outfit.
Blogs never want to take you home to mom.
A blog doesn't care if you always spent the holidays with your family.
A blog won't ask to be put through Med School.
A blog won't tell you he's outgrown you intellectually.
Blogs never expect you to have little blogs.
Blogs don't say "Let's keep trying until we have a boy".
It's easy to drop a blog.
A blog will never contest a divorce, demand a property settlement, or seek custody of anything.
A blog NEVER leaves the toilet seat up.
A blog lasts longer than seven seconds.
A blog won't expect you to cook dinner when you're not hungry.
A blog will never expect you to sit in the wet spot IT makes.
A blog doesn't care if you go shopping.
A blog doesn't mind when your mother visits.
A blog does as many chores as a man, with a LOT less complaining.
Having a blog can't make you pregnant.
A blog won't tease you because you once liked Barry Manilow.
If a blog had a sports car, it wouldn't love it more than you.
A blog doesn't want to go out alone with the other blogs.
A blog doesn't sulk.
A blog wouldn't waste its money on Playblog magazine.
A blog won't switch the TV channel.
A blog doesn't have to sleep with the windows open.
A blog doesn't snore.
A blog can't interrupt.
A blog doesn't care that you can't find your car's carburetor.
A blog doesn't think black leather bikinis are neat.
A blog doesn't belch. Or fart.
A blog doesn't mind having pantyhose dry in the bathroom.
A blog doesn't care that you don't balance your checkbook.
A good blog is easy to find.
A blog can't pout.
A blog doesn't have a mother.
A blog doesn't have friends who will drink your blog.
A blog wouldn't yell if you dented the car.
A blog won't get jealous if you enjoy another blog.
A blog won't care if you gain five pounds.
A blog will be there for anytime of the month.
A blog doesn't want children.
A blog doesn't think poetry is queer.
A blog isn't ready until you're ready.
If the blog is finished before you are, you can have another blog.
Hangovers from too much blogging go away.
A blog tastes good.
Having a blog doesn't make you want to take a shower.
A blog will never invite friends home for dinner without calling.
A blog's life does not revolve around the football.
A blog would never make fun of your new outfit.
A blog never needs a shave.
You don't have to let a blog win.
A blog doesn't care what toppings you get on the pizza.
Just because you have dinner with a blog doesn't mean you have to sleep with a blog too.
A blog doesn't have morning breath.
A blog is happy to go where ever you want to go.
A blog will never drink the last blog.
A blog will never take the newspaper apart before you've read it.
When a blog is finished, it doesn't roll over and go to sleep.
A blog wouldn't mind if you wanted it to wear a condom.
A blog is never temperamental.
A blog will never complain about your cooking.
A cold blog is a good blog.
A blog will never worry about losing its hair.
A big, fat blog is nice to have.
A blog won't steal the covers.
You don't have to laugh at a blog's jokes.
A blog won't mind at all if you're not in the mood for blog.
You can enjoy a blog when you are on your period.
Writing Notes
Tell 'em what you're gonna tell 'em,
tell 'em,
tell 'em what you told 'em.
Training and presentations mnemonic for effective presentation or speaking structure, in other words:
introduction,
content points,
summary.
Post an image that you like and write about it. Even if you're not planning to keep a photo blog, a visual entry can be just the thing you need to break the blogging ice. Perhaps, you can post a picture that inspires or delights you; or maybe, something that makes you laugh or cry. Then, write a sentence or two that comes to mind when you look at this image.
tell 'em,
tell 'em what you told 'em.
Training and presentations mnemonic for effective presentation or speaking structure, in other words:
introduction,
content points,
summary.
Post an image that you like and write about it. Even if you're not planning to keep a photo blog, a visual entry can be just the thing you need to break the blogging ice. Perhaps, you can post a picture that inspires or delights you; or maybe, something that makes you laugh or cry. Then, write a sentence or two that comes to mind when you look at this image.
Timeline notes
March 18, 1864 -- Sanitary Commission Fair in Washington -- The U.S. Sanitary Commission Fair in Washington, D.C., closes with President Lincoln commending the organization for its fine work. The Sanitary Commission formed in 1861, the creation of northern civilians concerned for Union troops' medical care. The voluntary association raised more than $22 million in donations and medical supplies, and it represented a major contribution by Yankee women to the war effort. Although administered by men, the vast majority of its volunteers were women. The commission raised supplies and provided lodging and meals to wounded soldiers and troops returning home on furlough. It gathered medicine and bandages for the army and sent inspectors to the camps to oversee the set up of clean water supplies, latrines, and cooking facilities. Volunteers worked on the front lines as doctors and nurses helped evacuate wounded soldiers to the rear. Some generals and army doctors found commission workers to be annoying and troublesome, especially when they criticized army medical practices. One doctor complained about what he saw as "sensation preachers, village doctors, and strong-minded women" interfering with the doctors' work. Some of these women included noted reformer Dorthea Dix and Mary Ann Bickerdyke, a tough no-nonsense church volunteer who became the commission's agent to the Army of the Tennessee before the Battle of Shiloh. She was completely dedicated to caring for common soldiers, and she was not afraid to challenge doctors and officers when she thought their care was being compromised. At Chattanooga, she ordered timbers for breastworks burned to keep wounded soldiers warm--when military police asked her who had authorized the burning, she replied, "Under the authority of God Almighty. Have you got anything better than that?" The commission's work fit 19th century women's socially proscribed roles as caretakers and nurturers of men, but the work also allowed women to carve out their own careers, and it could be seen as a step forward for the women's rights movement. Lincoln said at the closing of the Sanitation Commission Fair, "if all that has been said by orators and poets since the creation of the world in praise of women applied to the women of America, it would not do them justice for their conduct during this war."
March 23, 1839 : OK enters national vernacular -- On this day in 1839, the initials "O.K." are first published in The Boston Morning Post. Meant as an abbreviation for "oll correct," a popular slang misspelling of "all correct" at the time, OK steadily made its way into the everyday speech of Americans.
During the late 1830s, it was a favorite practice among younger, educated circles to misspell words intentionally, then abbreviate them and use them as slang when talking to one another. Just as teenagers today have their own slang based on distortions of common words, such as "kewl" for "cool" or "DZ" for "these," the "in crowd" of the 1830s had a whole host of slang terms they abbreviated. Popular abbreviations included "KY" for "No use" ("know yuse"), "KG" for "No go" ("Know go"), and "OW" for all right ("oll wright").
Of all the abbreviations used during that time, OK was propelled into the limelight when it was printed in the Boston Morning Post as part of a joke. Its popularity exploded when it was picked up by contemporary politicians. When the incumbent president Martin Van Buren was up for reelection, his Democratic supporters organized a band of thugs to influence voters. This group was formally called the "O.K. Club," which referred both to Van Buren's nickname "Old Kinderhook" (based on his hometown of Kinderhook, New York), and to the term recently made popular in the papers. At the same time, the opposing Whig Party made use of "OK" to denigrate Van Buren's political mentor Andrew Jackson. According to the Whigs, Jackson invented the abbreviation "OK" to cover up his own misspelling of "all correct."
The man responsible for unraveling the mystery behind "OK" was an American linguist named Allen Walker Read. An English professor at Columbia University, Read dispelled a host of erroneous theories on the origins of "OK," ranging from the name of a popular Army biscuit (Orrin Kendall) to the name of a Haitian port famed for its rum (Aux Cayes) to the signature of a Choctaw chief named Old Keokuk. Whatever its origins, "OK" has become one of the most ubiquitous terms in the world, and certainly one of America's greatest lingual exports.
in 1850, Henry Wells & William Fargo founded American Express.
March 24, 1890 - Supreme Court makes surprise decision -- The Supreme Court stirred controversy on this day in 1890, handing down what some deemed a "surprise" decision in Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul Railroad v. Minnesota. The case revolved around the question of whether or not a state held the right to impose fees that would cap a company's "reasonable profits." Based on the decision that such a cap violated a "person's" rights under the Fourteenth Amendment, the Court ruled in favor of the midwestern railroad. The conflation of a company with a person, a position spearheaded by Arthur Conkling, was only part of the flap that surrounded the case. People howled that the Court had effectively installed itself as the lone judge of what constituted a "reasonable profit." In essence, the Supreme Court had overstepped its bounds and thus imperiled the "delicate balance" between the judiciary, executive, and legislative branches of the government.
In 1889, German Ferdinand von Zeppelin patented his "Navigable Balloon."
March 16, 1881 -- A virtuous woman turns murderous -- Francisco "Chico" Forster is shot to death on downtown Los Angeles street by his jilted lover, eighteen-year old Lastania Abarta. The forty-year old Forster was the son of wealthy Los Angeles land developer and considered one of the city's most eligible bachelors despite his reputation for womanizing and poorly treating women. Abarta worked in her parent's pool hall, where she sang, played the guitar, and met freqent customer Forster. On March 14, she was invited to perform at a party given by Pio Pico, California's last Mexican governor. The former politician had just lost a sizable tract of land near San Diego to Chico Forster's father. During a song, Abarta changed the lyrics to mock Pico and then ran off with Forster to the Moiso Mansion Hotel. Apparently, the couple made love after Forster promised to marry Abarta. But when Forster disappeared and didn't return with a ring or priest to perform the ceremony, Abarta and her sister Hortensia started to comb the city in search of him. They finally found him at a race track gambling and dragged him to their carriage for a trip to the church. But Forster got out of the cab on the way, the women closely following behind until Abarta suddenly pulled out a gun and shot him through the eye. Outraged by his son's untimely death, Forster's father hired a special prosecutor to make sure that Abarta was properly punished. Abarta's lawyers tried a novel defense, they ran with America's 1880s obsession with "female hysteria." Medical theories of the time held that women could be driven crazy because of their reproductive system. Their first step was to introduce in evidence the blood stained sheets from the hotel where Abarta lost her virginity to Forster. The lawyers then trotted out no less than seven medical experts who expounded their hysteria theories. They testified that Abarta was clearly displaying classic "hysterical symptoms" caused "because her brain was undoubtedly congested with blood," when she killed Forster. However, the most important testimony came from Dr. Joseph Kurtz who received applause from the spectators in the courtroom when he stated that "Any virtuous woman when deprived of her virtue would go mad, undoubtedly." The jury, all men of course, took just twenty minutes to acquit Abarta, who left town and disappeared out of sight.
March 23, 1839 : OK enters national vernacular -- On this day in 1839, the initials "O.K." are first published in The Boston Morning Post. Meant as an abbreviation for "oll correct," a popular slang misspelling of "all correct" at the time, OK steadily made its way into the everyday speech of Americans.
During the late 1830s, it was a favorite practice among younger, educated circles to misspell words intentionally, then abbreviate them and use them as slang when talking to one another. Just as teenagers today have their own slang based on distortions of common words, such as "kewl" for "cool" or "DZ" for "these," the "in crowd" of the 1830s had a whole host of slang terms they abbreviated. Popular abbreviations included "KY" for "No use" ("know yuse"), "KG" for "No go" ("Know go"), and "OW" for all right ("oll wright").
Of all the abbreviations used during that time, OK was propelled into the limelight when it was printed in the Boston Morning Post as part of a joke. Its popularity exploded when it was picked up by contemporary politicians. When the incumbent president Martin Van Buren was up for reelection, his Democratic supporters organized a band of thugs to influence voters. This group was formally called the "O.K. Club," which referred both to Van Buren's nickname "Old Kinderhook" (based on his hometown of Kinderhook, New York), and to the term recently made popular in the papers. At the same time, the opposing Whig Party made use of "OK" to denigrate Van Buren's political mentor Andrew Jackson. According to the Whigs, Jackson invented the abbreviation "OK" to cover up his own misspelling of "all correct."
The man responsible for unraveling the mystery behind "OK" was an American linguist named Allen Walker Read. An English professor at Columbia University, Read dispelled a host of erroneous theories on the origins of "OK," ranging from the name of a popular Army biscuit (Orrin Kendall) to the name of a Haitian port famed for its rum (Aux Cayes) to the signature of a Choctaw chief named Old Keokuk. Whatever its origins, "OK" has become one of the most ubiquitous terms in the world, and certainly one of America's greatest lingual exports.
in 1850, Henry Wells & William Fargo founded American Express.
March 24, 1890 - Supreme Court makes surprise decision -- The Supreme Court stirred controversy on this day in 1890, handing down what some deemed a "surprise" decision in Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul Railroad v. Minnesota. The case revolved around the question of whether or not a state held the right to impose fees that would cap a company's "reasonable profits." Based on the decision that such a cap violated a "person's" rights under the Fourteenth Amendment, the Court ruled in favor of the midwestern railroad. The conflation of a company with a person, a position spearheaded by Arthur Conkling, was only part of the flap that surrounded the case. People howled that the Court had effectively installed itself as the lone judge of what constituted a "reasonable profit." In essence, the Supreme Court had overstepped its bounds and thus imperiled the "delicate balance" between the judiciary, executive, and legislative branches of the government.
In 1889, German Ferdinand von Zeppelin patented his "Navigable Balloon."
March 16, 1881 -- A virtuous woman turns murderous -- Francisco "Chico" Forster is shot to death on downtown Los Angeles street by his jilted lover, eighteen-year old Lastania Abarta. The forty-year old Forster was the son of wealthy Los Angeles land developer and considered one of the city's most eligible bachelors despite his reputation for womanizing and poorly treating women. Abarta worked in her parent's pool hall, where she sang, played the guitar, and met freqent customer Forster. On March 14, she was invited to perform at a party given by Pio Pico, California's last Mexican governor. The former politician had just lost a sizable tract of land near San Diego to Chico Forster's father. During a song, Abarta changed the lyrics to mock Pico and then ran off with Forster to the Moiso Mansion Hotel. Apparently, the couple made love after Forster promised to marry Abarta. But when Forster disappeared and didn't return with a ring or priest to perform the ceremony, Abarta and her sister Hortensia started to comb the city in search of him. They finally found him at a race track gambling and dragged him to their carriage for a trip to the church. But Forster got out of the cab on the way, the women closely following behind until Abarta suddenly pulled out a gun and shot him through the eye. Outraged by his son's untimely death, Forster's father hired a special prosecutor to make sure that Abarta was properly punished. Abarta's lawyers tried a novel defense, they ran with America's 1880s obsession with "female hysteria." Medical theories of the time held that women could be driven crazy because of their reproductive system. Their first step was to introduce in evidence the blood stained sheets from the hotel where Abarta lost her virginity to Forster. The lawyers then trotted out no less than seven medical experts who expounded their hysteria theories. They testified that Abarta was clearly displaying classic "hysterical symptoms" caused "because her brain was undoubtedly congested with blood," when she killed Forster. However, the most important testimony came from Dr. Joseph Kurtz who received applause from the spectators in the courtroom when he stated that "Any virtuous woman when deprived of her virtue would go mad, undoubtedly." The jury, all men of course, took just twenty minutes to acquit Abarta, who left town and disappeared out of sight.
Texas Cattle
March 7, 1885
Kansas quarantines Texas cattle
The Kansas legislature passes a law barring Texas cattle from the state between March 1 and December 1, the latest action reflecting the love-hate relationship between Kansas and the cattle industry.
Texans had adopted the practice of driving cattle northward to railheads in Kansas shortly after the Civil War. From 1867 to 1871, the most popular route was the legendary Chisholm Trail that ran from San Antonio to Abilene, Kansas. Attracted by the profits to be made providing supplies to ranchers and a good time to trail-weary cowboys, other struggling Kansas frontier towns maneuvered to attract the Texas cattle herds. Dodge City, Caldwell, Ellsworth, Hays, and Newton competed with Abilene to be the top "Cow Town" of Kansas.
As Kansas lost some of its Wild West frontier edge, though, the cowboys and their cattle became less attractive. Upstanding town residents anxious to attract investment capital and nurture local businesses became increasingly impatient with rowdy young cowboys and their messy cattle. The new Kansas farmers who were systematically dividing the open range into neat rectangles of crops were even less fond of the cattle herds. Although the cowboys attempted to respect farm boundaries, stray cattle often wreaked havoc with farmers' crops. "There was scarcely a day when we didn't have a row with some settler," reported one cowboy.
Recognizing that the future of the state was in agriculture, the Kansas legislature attempted to restrict the movement of Texas cattle. In 1869, the legislature excluded cattle entirely from the east-central part of the state, where farmers were settling most quickly. Complaints from farmers that the Texas cattle were giving their valuable dairy cows tick fever and hoof-and-mouth disease eventually led to even tighter controls. On this day in 1885, the Kansas legislature enacted a strict quarantine. The quarantine closed all of Kansas to Texan cattle for all but the winter months of December, January, and February-the time of the year when the diseases were not as prevalent.
These laws signaled the end of the Kansas role in the Texas cattle industry. The open range was rapidly closing, hemmed in by miles and miles of barbed wire fence. With the extension of rail lines into Texas itself, the reason for making the long drives north to Kansas began to disappear by the late 1880s anyway. The Kansas quarantine laws became irrelevant as most Texans could more easily ship cattle via railheads in their own states.
Kansas quarantines Texas cattle
The Kansas legislature passes a law barring Texas cattle from the state between March 1 and December 1, the latest action reflecting the love-hate relationship between Kansas and the cattle industry.
Texans had adopted the practice of driving cattle northward to railheads in Kansas shortly after the Civil War. From 1867 to 1871, the most popular route was the legendary Chisholm Trail that ran from San Antonio to Abilene, Kansas. Attracted by the profits to be made providing supplies to ranchers and a good time to trail-weary cowboys, other struggling Kansas frontier towns maneuvered to attract the Texas cattle herds. Dodge City, Caldwell, Ellsworth, Hays, and Newton competed with Abilene to be the top "Cow Town" of Kansas.
As Kansas lost some of its Wild West frontier edge, though, the cowboys and their cattle became less attractive. Upstanding town residents anxious to attract investment capital and nurture local businesses became increasingly impatient with rowdy young cowboys and their messy cattle. The new Kansas farmers who were systematically dividing the open range into neat rectangles of crops were even less fond of the cattle herds. Although the cowboys attempted to respect farm boundaries, stray cattle often wreaked havoc with farmers' crops. "There was scarcely a day when we didn't have a row with some settler," reported one cowboy.
Recognizing that the future of the state was in agriculture, the Kansas legislature attempted to restrict the movement of Texas cattle. In 1869, the legislature excluded cattle entirely from the east-central part of the state, where farmers were settling most quickly. Complaints from farmers that the Texas cattle were giving their valuable dairy cows tick fever and hoof-and-mouth disease eventually led to even tighter controls. On this day in 1885, the Kansas legislature enacted a strict quarantine. The quarantine closed all of Kansas to Texan cattle for all but the winter months of December, January, and February-the time of the year when the diseases were not as prevalent.
These laws signaled the end of the Kansas role in the Texas cattle industry. The open range was rapidly closing, hemmed in by miles and miles of barbed wire fence. With the extension of rail lines into Texas itself, the reason for making the long drives north to Kansas began to disappear by the late 1880s anyway. The Kansas quarantine laws became irrelevant as most Texans could more easily ship cattle via railheads in their own states.
Old West Silver
February 28, 1878
Silver rebounds
Proponents of silver-based currency had a rough go of it during the early 1870s, as legislators rebuffed their push for the free coinage of silver. However, the election of the 45th Congress, which was split down the middle on the expanded currency issue, opened the door for the passage of pro-silver legislation. And, on this day in 1878, the House gave the nod to the Bland-Allison Act, which called for the coinage of silver, albeit it in limited doses. Bland-Allison was another sign of the growing political power of the expanded currency movement, which blended silver forces with the burgeoning greenback movement. Earlier that February, the Greenback and Labor parties joined forces to form the Greenback Labor Party which, for brief period at the end of the 1870s, made a serious run at the national political stage. At the same time, the economy became ripe for the rise of silver: the nation's currency was deflated to Civil War-era levels, while miners across the West were churning up vast quantities of silver. The silver movement flourished for the next decade or so, as many in the greenback crusade, realizing that silver was a better horse to ride to an expanded currency, joined the drive for the unlimited coinage of silver.
Silver rebounds
Proponents of silver-based currency had a rough go of it during the early 1870s, as legislators rebuffed their push for the free coinage of silver. However, the election of the 45th Congress, which was split down the middle on the expanded currency issue, opened the door for the passage of pro-silver legislation. And, on this day in 1878, the House gave the nod to the Bland-Allison Act, which called for the coinage of silver, albeit it in limited doses. Bland-Allison was another sign of the growing political power of the expanded currency movement, which blended silver forces with the burgeoning greenback movement. Earlier that February, the Greenback and Labor parties joined forces to form the Greenback Labor Party which, for brief period at the end of the 1870s, made a serious run at the national political stage. At the same time, the economy became ripe for the rise of silver: the nation's currency was deflated to Civil War-era levels, while miners across the West were churning up vast quantities of silver. The silver movement flourished for the next decade or so, as many in the greenback crusade, realizing that silver was a better horse to ride to an expanded currency, joined the drive for the unlimited coinage of silver.
Story Starters
Subject: Re: just for fun
Things about me that you may or may not know.
Four jobs I have had in my life
Four places I have lived.
Four TV Shows that I watch:
Four places I have been:
People who e-mail me (regularly)
Four of my favorite foods;
Four places I would rather be right now:
Four Things I am looking forward to this year:
Things about me that you may or may not know.
Four jobs I have had in my life
Four places I have lived.
Four TV Shows that I watch:
Four places I have been:
People who e-mail me (regularly)
Four of my favorite foods;
Four places I would rather be right now:
Four Things I am looking forward to this year:
Romance Story Idea
First Born by Lindsay McKenna
about two helo pilots from the 101st Airborne stationed at Ft. Campbell. Great Read!!!
Jason Trayhern wore his father's glorious military legacy like a thorny crown. Though a skilled fighter pilot himself, Jason's rebel tactics didn't sit well with his commanding officers. They expected more from Morgan Trayhern's son, which was why they gave Jason another chance. But that chance felt like a death sentence. For Jason was going into combat with a new partner. And she was all too . . . female.
A handsome, arrogant daredevil was the last thing Annie Dazen needed in her cockpit. But once she saw the wounded heart beneath Jason's tough-guy façade, she longed to heal him. And once she discovered the passion in this brooding soldier's touch, she longed to hold him tight. Now the stakes were higher. Because if she hoped to see a future with her would-be hero, they needed to survive their dangerous mission first!
about two helo pilots from the 101st Airborne stationed at Ft. Campbell. Great Read!!!
Jason Trayhern wore his father's glorious military legacy like a thorny crown. Though a skilled fighter pilot himself, Jason's rebel tactics didn't sit well with his commanding officers. They expected more from Morgan Trayhern's son, which was why they gave Jason another chance. But that chance felt like a death sentence. For Jason was going into combat with a new partner. And she was all too . . . female.
A handsome, arrogant daredevil was the last thing Annie Dazen needed in her cockpit. But once she saw the wounded heart beneath Jason's tough-guy façade, she longed to heal him. And once she discovered the passion in this brooding soldier's touch, she longed to hold him tight. Now the stakes were higher. Because if she hoped to see a future with her would-be hero, they needed to survive their dangerous mission first!
Down by the Ol' Cemetery (note to self -- please learn how to spell cemetery!)
On the outskirts of a small town, there was a big old pecan tree just inside the cemetery fence.
One day, two boys filled up a bucketful of nuts and sat down by the tree, out of sight, and began dividing the nuts. "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me," said one boy, as several dropped and rolled down toward the fence.
Another boy came riding along the road on his bicycle. As he passed, he thought he heard voices from inside the cemetery.
He slowed down to investigate. Sure enough, he heard, "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me." He knew just what it was. He jumped back on his bike and rode off.
Just around the bend he met an old man with a cane, hobbling along. "Come here, quick," said the boy. "You won't believe what I heard! Satan and the Lord are down at the cemetery dividing up the souls."
The man said, "Beat it kid. Can't you see it's hard for me to walk?"
When the boy insisted, though, the man hobbled to the cemetery.
Standing by the fence they heard, "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me..."
The old man whispered, "Boy, you've been tellin' the truth. Let's see if we can see the Lord."
Shaking with fear, they peered through the fence, yet were still unable to see anything. The old man and the boy gripped the wrought iron bars of the fence tighter and tighter as they tried to get a glimpse of the Lord.
Then they heard, "One for you, one for me. That's all. Now, let's go get those nuts by the fence and we'll be done."
They say the old man made it back to town a full 5 minutes ahead of the boy on the bike!
One day, two boys filled up a bucketful of nuts and sat down by the tree, out of sight, and began dividing the nuts. "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me," said one boy, as several dropped and rolled down toward the fence.
Another boy came riding along the road on his bicycle. As he passed, he thought he heard voices from inside the cemetery.
He slowed down to investigate. Sure enough, he heard, "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me." He knew just what it was. He jumped back on his bike and rode off.
Just around the bend he met an old man with a cane, hobbling along. "Come here, quick," said the boy. "You won't believe what I heard! Satan and the Lord are down at the cemetery dividing up the souls."
The man said, "Beat it kid. Can't you see it's hard for me to walk?"
When the boy insisted, though, the man hobbled to the cemetery.
Standing by the fence they heard, "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me..."
The old man whispered, "Boy, you've been tellin' the truth. Let's see if we can see the Lord."
Shaking with fear, they peered through the fence, yet were still unable to see anything. The old man and the boy gripped the wrought iron bars of the fence tighter and tighter as they tried to get a glimpse of the Lord.
Then they heard, "One for you, one for me. That's all. Now, let's go get those nuts by the fence and we'll be done."
They say the old man made it back to town a full 5 minutes ahead of the boy on the bike!
Civilian Snipers
‘Don’t Try to Run’
Inside the Chilling World of Civilian Snipers
By Bob Woodruff
Oct. 12 — Few Americans are aware of a mysterious world that teaches civilians how to master the deadly sniper art — and it's only mouse clicks away.
Through videos and Web sites, civilian snipers have attracted a cult following.
"'One shot, one kill' is the slogan of the sniper," said Tom Diaz of the Violence Policy Center.
A series of sniper shootings — eight of them fatal — in the Washington, D.C, region has area residents living in fear — which is exactly the way the sniper wants it.
"There is a subculture, there is a civilian subculture in this country dedicated to the fulfillment of that proposition," said Diaz.
Sniper Glorification
Through the Violence Policy Center, a national nonprofit organization working to fight gun violence, Diaz has been monitoring the sniper culture for years. He has been collecting evidence of what he calls the glorification of the sniper.
This evidence includes training videos that teach people how to build high-powered rifles and use them with devastating effect.
In addition, Diaz has collected dozens of books with menacing titles and pictures. There are also Web sites, he says, that recount the heroic work of military snipers and also advertise for sniper training.
Historically, members of the military and police forces have taken sniper-training courses, but it wasn't a civilian pastime. In the last 10 years, however, special sniper courses have been open to the public — to anyone who can afford to sign up.
'Killing Human Beings'
Peter Tarley, an expert sniper who has been teaching courses for police departments and the military for years, says he understands what attracts some civilians to the sniper world, although he refuses to teach them.
"It maybe shocking to the average American to know that there are training schools that civilians can go to," Tarley said. "There are Web sites, all of which teach this doctrine: 'one shot, one kill.' … And we're not talking about shooting woodchucks, we're talking about killing human beings."
Web sites with names like "Sniper's Paradise" and "Sniper Country" provide a road map on how to master this deadly art, Tarley said.
Although they are careful to warn readers not to act criminally, many are riddled with disturbing quotes.
"The careful application of terror is another form of communication," says one sniper on a Web site's chat board.
Another sniper wrote: "The only thing I feel when I kill is the recoil from my rifle."
A particularly chilling quote reads: "Don't try to run. You'll only die tired."
Obsessed by the Sport's Demands
Hollywood movies about snipers have gained nearly cult status in the sniper culture.
Enemy at the Gates, a movie about snipers in World War II, and Sniper, starring Tom Berenger, are discussed frequently on sniper Web sites' chat boards.
Tarley says shooters who become obsessed with sniping are attracted to the sport's demands.
"They're trying to be as precise as possible, the breathing control required — the ability to time your shot with your heartbeat," Tarley said.
Gun-control advocates say the sniper culture is growing fast and needs to be controlled, because even with their conspicuous weapons, snipers can get away.
But despite the disturbing messages posted by snipers on their favorite Web sites, Tarley insists the sniper culture is not a dangerous one. He says snipers rarely murder.
Inside the Chilling World of Civilian Snipers
By Bob Woodruff
Oct. 12 — Few Americans are aware of a mysterious world that teaches civilians how to master the deadly sniper art — and it's only mouse clicks away.
Through videos and Web sites, civilian snipers have attracted a cult following.
"'One shot, one kill' is the slogan of the sniper," said Tom Diaz of the Violence Policy Center.
A series of sniper shootings — eight of them fatal — in the Washington, D.C, region has area residents living in fear — which is exactly the way the sniper wants it.
"There is a subculture, there is a civilian subculture in this country dedicated to the fulfillment of that proposition," said Diaz.
Sniper Glorification
Through the Violence Policy Center, a national nonprofit organization working to fight gun violence, Diaz has been monitoring the sniper culture for years. He has been collecting evidence of what he calls the glorification of the sniper.
This evidence includes training videos that teach people how to build high-powered rifles and use them with devastating effect.
In addition, Diaz has collected dozens of books with menacing titles and pictures. There are also Web sites, he says, that recount the heroic work of military snipers and also advertise for sniper training.
Historically, members of the military and police forces have taken sniper-training courses, but it wasn't a civilian pastime. In the last 10 years, however, special sniper courses have been open to the public — to anyone who can afford to sign up.
'Killing Human Beings'
Peter Tarley, an expert sniper who has been teaching courses for police departments and the military for years, says he understands what attracts some civilians to the sniper world, although he refuses to teach them.
"It maybe shocking to the average American to know that there are training schools that civilians can go to," Tarley said. "There are Web sites, all of which teach this doctrine: 'one shot, one kill.' … And we're not talking about shooting woodchucks, we're talking about killing human beings."
Web sites with names like "Sniper's Paradise" and "Sniper Country" provide a road map on how to master this deadly art, Tarley said.
Although they are careful to warn readers not to act criminally, many are riddled with disturbing quotes.
"The careful application of terror is another form of communication," says one sniper on a Web site's chat board.
Another sniper wrote: "The only thing I feel when I kill is the recoil from my rifle."
A particularly chilling quote reads: "Don't try to run. You'll only die tired."
Obsessed by the Sport's Demands
Hollywood movies about snipers have gained nearly cult status in the sniper culture.
Enemy at the Gates, a movie about snipers in World War II, and Sniper, starring Tom Berenger, are discussed frequently on sniper Web sites' chat boards.
Tarley says shooters who become obsessed with sniping are attracted to the sport's demands.
"They're trying to be as precise as possible, the breathing control required — the ability to time your shot with your heartbeat," Tarley said.
Gun-control advocates say the sniper culture is growing fast and needs to be controlled, because even with their conspicuous weapons, snipers can get away.
But despite the disturbing messages posted by snipers on their favorite Web sites, Tarley insists the sniper culture is not a dangerous one. He says snipers rarely murder.
Dating Tips
Extreme dates, like bungee jumping, make you a lot closer to the other person. A lot of feelings start to surface. You need to go with your feelings and explore the relationship. Intense situations
Extreme Dating
Dating in the mode of Extreme Programming. While possibly never tried (or at least repeated), it is useful to see how similar humans are to machines.
This was refactored so that mostly serious suggestions are normal text, mostly funny ones are italics. Just in case any of the geeks couldn't tell. See, self-documenting.
DoTheSimplestThingThatCouldPossiblyWork: Chocolates. If that doesn't work, try roses. Don't make a complicated plan on how to win their heart - just think of something simple and honest.
RefactorMercilessly: If your date is less than impressed with your appearance or your PC vs Mac jokes, you've obviously done something wrong. Work to readjust their expectations of a date to something simpler and more reasonable. If you dare. Change your strategy if it's going badly. Change yourself if you can't see how to proceed.
TestDrivenDesign: Once you have made the adjustment, run all the UnitTests again to make sure where you stand. If something goes wrong in the dating process, do not continue, stop it immediately and work on the issues until they are resolved.
ContinuousIntegration: If something goes right, be sure to cement that behavior by presenting her with a gesture of approval. If something goes right, be sure to include it in your future plans.
SmallReleases: Don't get married on the first date. Work things out slowly. Consider giving out N month anniversary agreements. Remember when you started going out so you can offer some small gesture on 'month anniversaries'.
FortyHourWeek: Too much time spent dating can result in unhealthy practices. Be sure to take a breather every now and then.
OnsiteCustomer: LongDistanceRelationship does not work.
YouArentGonnaNeedIt: Don't worry so much about how you can please your date three months in the future; keeping them happy in the present tense is challenge enough.
PairProgramming: It helps to have more than one person involved. It works better if both partners work together.
ThereMustBeFood: and red wine?
OnceAndOnlyOnce: Don't continually cut-and-paste the same personality type into your dating program. One canonical experience should be enough.
DoTheSimplestThingThatCouldPossiblyWork:
i.e. Go to the least effort possible for your date. Don't bother showering, shaving, or looking respectable; if you think there's a chance you can get away with looking like a slob, go for it. To a more reasonable extent: why go to the trouble of a big fancy five-course meal at a restaurant and a big broadway play, when a rented classic film and a home-cooked meal would do just fine? (Because dates that take place in the home are recipes for disaster, except for established couples, that's why.)
Remember, "simplest" isn't the same as "least amount of effort".
Contributors: TorneWuff
Extreme Dating
Dating in the mode of Extreme Programming. While possibly never tried (or at least repeated), it is useful to see how similar humans are to machines.
This was refactored so that mostly serious suggestions are normal text, mostly funny ones are italics. Just in case any of the geeks couldn't tell. See, self-documenting.
DoTheSimplestThingThatCouldPossiblyWork: Chocolates. If that doesn't work, try roses. Don't make a complicated plan on how to win their heart - just think of something simple and honest.
RefactorMercilessly: If your date is less than impressed with your appearance or your PC vs Mac jokes, you've obviously done something wrong. Work to readjust their expectations of a date to something simpler and more reasonable. If you dare. Change your strategy if it's going badly. Change yourself if you can't see how to proceed.
TestDrivenDesign: Once you have made the adjustment, run all the UnitTests again to make sure where you stand. If something goes wrong in the dating process, do not continue, stop it immediately and work on the issues until they are resolved.
ContinuousIntegration: If something goes right, be sure to cement that behavior by presenting her with a gesture of approval. If something goes right, be sure to include it in your future plans.
SmallReleases: Don't get married on the first date. Work things out slowly. Consider giving out N month anniversary agreements. Remember when you started going out so you can offer some small gesture on 'month anniversaries'.
FortyHourWeek: Too much time spent dating can result in unhealthy practices. Be sure to take a breather every now and then.
OnsiteCustomer: LongDistanceRelationship does not work.
YouArentGonnaNeedIt: Don't worry so much about how you can please your date three months in the future; keeping them happy in the present tense is challenge enough.
PairProgramming: It helps to have more than one person involved. It works better if both partners work together.
ThereMustBeFood: and red wine?
OnceAndOnlyOnce: Don't continually cut-and-paste the same personality type into your dating program. One canonical experience should be enough.
DoTheSimplestThingThatCouldPossiblyWork:
i.e. Go to the least effort possible for your date. Don't bother showering, shaving, or looking respectable; if you think there's a chance you can get away with looking like a slob, go for it. To a more reasonable extent: why go to the trouble of a big fancy five-course meal at a restaurant and a big broadway play, when a rented classic film and a home-cooked meal would do just fine? (Because dates that take place in the home are recipes for disaster, except for established couples, that's why.)
Remember, "simplest" isn't the same as "least amount of effort".
Contributors: TorneWuff
Mile High Club
Chicago Mile High Club
Membership into the elite Mile-High Club has always been difficult to attain. Only those couples who were bold enough to carry on their initiation in the backseats of an under booked airline flight, or wealthy enough to own their own aircraft were usually able to join.
Now you can join the club in romantic comfort, style, and discretion. We are offering you and your loved one the exclusive use of our 20 passenger airliner so that you can become mile-high club members, with all of the safety and privacy that comes with having a large twin-engine turboprop airliner all to yourselves. The cabin is large and roomy, over 20 feet in length, 6 feet wide and 5.5 feet tall. The cockpit is divided from the cabin. We have equipped the cabin with clean, comfortable furnishings. A bottle of chilled champagne along with cheese and crackers are included for the flight.
Once you are aboard, the captain and first officer will communicate with you when it is permitted to move from your seats. This fast climbing aircraft will be one mile high in less than 5 minutes after takeoff. At that time, you will have 30 minutes of privacy. Should an unusual situation occur in the cabin, it is possible to signal the flight crew to deal with it. Otherwise, you and your loved one will remain totally undisturbed except for the soothing hum of the engines and the moonlight through the cabin windows.
Does this sound like the gift of a lifetime to give to your significant other? We think it is and invite you to call us with questions. Do not be bashful, the flight crew is made up of mature, dedicated professionals. The crew will never interfere, participate or comment in anyway on anything that goes on in the cabin, they are there to fly the plane. Furthermore, they are bound under contract to total secrecy and discretion as to the identities of our customers.
A few important notes: These flights are cancelled in the event of marginal weather. We will not fly when there is a chance of turbulence or uncertain conditions. The flight crew reserves the right to make these decisions. With that in mind, it is important that you keep time open for alternate dates. Although we will always try to meet your appointment, we will not compromise safety or comfort.
This service is offered to the public as a sight-seeing flight and will remain within 25 miles of the departure airport. Most flights are done at night. We generally depart from the Hinckley Airfield in Hinckley, IL. It's a rural, private airport with little or no activity after dark. It is unlikely that any one would ever be there to see you arrive or embark on the flight. Service from other airports can be arranged, but all flights must begin and terminate at the same location.
The cost for this "sightseeing" flight is $999.99/hour. Reservations must be made at least one week in advance and a non-refundable deposit of $250.00 is required. If we are unable to fly because of weather conditions or circumstances surrounding our flight operations, the deposit is moved to your alternate date. If you fail to show up or cancel for other reasons, the deposit is forfeited. You will be required to sign a release of liability agreement and must bring a picture ID to prove your identity and that you are at least 18 years of age.
Questions? Drop us an email to discuss how we can help you design the perfect evening for that special someone.
Order your Romantic Mile-High Club gift certificate now!
* Flights are available from May 1 - October 31
* Sky Team Aviation pilots are FlightSafety trained
Membership into the elite Mile-High Club has always been difficult to attain. Only those couples who were bold enough to carry on their initiation in the backseats of an under booked airline flight, or wealthy enough to own their own aircraft were usually able to join.
Now you can join the club in romantic comfort, style, and discretion. We are offering you and your loved one the exclusive use of our 20 passenger airliner so that you can become mile-high club members, with all of the safety and privacy that comes with having a large twin-engine turboprop airliner all to yourselves. The cabin is large and roomy, over 20 feet in length, 6 feet wide and 5.5 feet tall. The cockpit is divided from the cabin. We have equipped the cabin with clean, comfortable furnishings. A bottle of chilled champagne along with cheese and crackers are included for the flight.
Once you are aboard, the captain and first officer will communicate with you when it is permitted to move from your seats. This fast climbing aircraft will be one mile high in less than 5 minutes after takeoff. At that time, you will have 30 minutes of privacy. Should an unusual situation occur in the cabin, it is possible to signal the flight crew to deal with it. Otherwise, you and your loved one will remain totally undisturbed except for the soothing hum of the engines and the moonlight through the cabin windows.
Does this sound like the gift of a lifetime to give to your significant other? We think it is and invite you to call us with questions. Do not be bashful, the flight crew is made up of mature, dedicated professionals. The crew will never interfere, participate or comment in anyway on anything that goes on in the cabin, they are there to fly the plane. Furthermore, they are bound under contract to total secrecy and discretion as to the identities of our customers.
A few important notes: These flights are cancelled in the event of marginal weather. We will not fly when there is a chance of turbulence or uncertain conditions. The flight crew reserves the right to make these decisions. With that in mind, it is important that you keep time open for alternate dates. Although we will always try to meet your appointment, we will not compromise safety or comfort.
This service is offered to the public as a sight-seeing flight and will remain within 25 miles of the departure airport. Most flights are done at night. We generally depart from the Hinckley Airfield in Hinckley, IL. It's a rural, private airport with little or no activity after dark. It is unlikely that any one would ever be there to see you arrive or embark on the flight. Service from other airports can be arranged, but all flights must begin and terminate at the same location.
The cost for this "sightseeing" flight is $999.99/hour. Reservations must be made at least one week in advance and a non-refundable deposit of $250.00 is required. If we are unable to fly because of weather conditions or circumstances surrounding our flight operations, the deposit is moved to your alternate date. If you fail to show up or cancel for other reasons, the deposit is forfeited. You will be required to sign a release of liability agreement and must bring a picture ID to prove your identity and that you are at least 18 years of age.
Questions? Drop us an email to discuss how we can help you design the perfect evening for that special someone.
Order your Romantic Mile-High Club gift certificate now!
* Flights are available from May 1 - October 31
* Sky Team Aviation pilots are FlightSafety trained
The Ultimate Conspiracy Theory
Bilderberg: The ultimate conspiracy theory
By Jonathan Duffy
BBC News Online
The Bilderberg group, an elite coterie of Western thinkers and power-brokers, has been accused of fixing the fate of the world behind closed doors. As the organisation marks its 50th anniversary, rumours are more rife than ever.
Given its reputation as perhaps the most powerful organisation in the world, the Bilderberg group doesn't go a bundle on its switchboard operations.
Telephone inquiries are met with an impersonal female voice - the Dutch equivalent of the BT Callminder woman - reciting back the number and inviting callers to "leave a message after the tone".
Anyone who accidentally dialled the number would probably think they had stumbled on just another residential answer machine.
But behind this ultra-modest façade lies one of the most controversial and hotly-debated alliances of our times.
On Thursday the Bilderberg group marks its 50th anniversary with the start of its yearly meeting.
For four days some of the West's chief political movers, business leaders, bankers, industrialists and strategic thinkers will hunker down in a five-star hotel in northern Italy to talk about global issues.
What sets Bilderberg apart from other high-powered get-togethers, such as the annual World Economic Forum (WEF), is its mystique.
Not a word of what is said at Bilderberg meetings can be breathed outside. No reporters are invited in and while confidential minutes of meetings are taken, names are not noted.
The shadowy aura extends further - the anonymous answerphone message, for example; the fact that conference venues are kept secret. The group, which includes luminaries such as Henry Kissinger and former UK chancellor Kenneth Clarke, does not even have a website.
DISCREET AND ELITE
This year Bilderberg has announced a list of attendees
They include BP chief John Browne, US Senator John Edwards, World Bank president James Wolfensohn and Mrs Bill Gates
In the void created by such aloofness, an extraordinary conspiracy theory has grown up around the group that alleges the fate of the world is largely decided by Bilderberg.
In Yugoslavia, leading Serbs have blamed Bilderberg for triggering the war which led to the downfall of Slobodan Milosevic. The Oklahoma City bomber Timothy McVeigh, the London nail-bomber David Copeland and Osama Bin Laden are all said to have bought into the theory that Bilderberg pulls the strings with which national governments dance.
And while hardline right-wingers and libertarians accuse Bilderberg of being a liberal Zionist plot, leftists such as activist Tony Gosling are equally critical.
A former journalist, Mr Gosling runs a campaign against the group from his home in Bristol, UK.
"My main problem is the secrecy. When so many people with so much power get together in one place I think we are owed an explanation of what is going on.
Mr Gosling seizes on a quote from Will Hutton, the British economist and a former Bilderberg delegate, who likened it to the annual WEF gathering where "the consensus established is the backdrop against which policy is made worldwide".
"One of the first places I heard about the determination of US forces to attack Iraq was from leaks that came out of the 2002 Bilderberg meeting," says Mr Gosling.
But "privacy, rather than secrecy", is key to such a meeting says Financial Times journalist Martin Wolf, who has been invited several times in a non-reporting role.
"The idea that such meetings cannot be held in private is fundamentally totalitarian," he says. "It's not an executive body; no decisions are taken there."
As an up-and-coming statesmen in the 1950s, Denis Healey, who went on to become a Labour chancellor, was one of the four founding members of Bilderberg (which was named after the hotel in Holland where the first meeting was held in 1954).
His response to claims that Bilderberg exerts a shadowy hand on the global tiller is met with characteristic bluntness. "Crap!"
"There's absolutely nothing in it. We never sought to reach a consensus on the big issues at Bilderberg. It's simply a place for discussion," says Lord Healey.
Formed in the spirit of post-war trans-Atlantic co-operation, the idea behind Bilderberg was that future wars could be prevented by bringing power-brokers together in an informal setting away from prying eyes.
"Bilderberg is the most useful international group I ever attended. The confidentiality enabled people to speak honestly without fear of repercussions.
"In my experience the most useful meetings are those when one is free to speak openly and honestly. It's not unusual at all. Cabinet meetings in all countries are held behind closed doors and the minutes are not published."
That activists have seized on Bilderberg is no surprise to Alasdair Spark, an expert in conspiracy theories.
"The idea that a shadowy clique is running the world is nothing new. For hundreds of years people have believed the world is governed by a cabal of Jews.
"Shouldn't we expect that the rich and powerful organise things in their own interests. It's called capitalism."
Story from BBC NEWS: http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/2/hi/uk_news/magazine/3773019.stm
Published: 2004/06/03 11:34:47 GMT © BBC MMIV
By Jonathan Duffy
BBC News Online
The Bilderberg group, an elite coterie of Western thinkers and power-brokers, has been accused of fixing the fate of the world behind closed doors. As the organisation marks its 50th anniversary, rumours are more rife than ever.
Given its reputation as perhaps the most powerful organisation in the world, the Bilderberg group doesn't go a bundle on its switchboard operations.
Telephone inquiries are met with an impersonal female voice - the Dutch equivalent of the BT Callminder woman - reciting back the number and inviting callers to "leave a message after the tone".
Anyone who accidentally dialled the number would probably think they had stumbled on just another residential answer machine.
But behind this ultra-modest façade lies one of the most controversial and hotly-debated alliances of our times.
On Thursday the Bilderberg group marks its 50th anniversary with the start of its yearly meeting.
For four days some of the West's chief political movers, business leaders, bankers, industrialists and strategic thinkers will hunker down in a five-star hotel in northern Italy to talk about global issues.
What sets Bilderberg apart from other high-powered get-togethers, such as the annual World Economic Forum (WEF), is its mystique.
Not a word of what is said at Bilderberg meetings can be breathed outside. No reporters are invited in and while confidential minutes of meetings are taken, names are not noted.
The shadowy aura extends further - the anonymous answerphone message, for example; the fact that conference venues are kept secret. The group, which includes luminaries such as Henry Kissinger and former UK chancellor Kenneth Clarke, does not even have a website.
DISCREET AND ELITE
This year Bilderberg has announced a list of attendees
They include BP chief John Browne, US Senator John Edwards, World Bank president James Wolfensohn and Mrs Bill Gates
In the void created by such aloofness, an extraordinary conspiracy theory has grown up around the group that alleges the fate of the world is largely decided by Bilderberg.
In Yugoslavia, leading Serbs have blamed Bilderberg for triggering the war which led to the downfall of Slobodan Milosevic. The Oklahoma City bomber Timothy McVeigh, the London nail-bomber David Copeland and Osama Bin Laden are all said to have bought into the theory that Bilderberg pulls the strings with which national governments dance.
And while hardline right-wingers and libertarians accuse Bilderberg of being a liberal Zionist plot, leftists such as activist Tony Gosling are equally critical.
A former journalist, Mr Gosling runs a campaign against the group from his home in Bristol, UK.
"My main problem is the secrecy. When so many people with so much power get together in one place I think we are owed an explanation of what is going on.
Mr Gosling seizes on a quote from Will Hutton, the British economist and a former Bilderberg delegate, who likened it to the annual WEF gathering where "the consensus established is the backdrop against which policy is made worldwide".
"One of the first places I heard about the determination of US forces to attack Iraq was from leaks that came out of the 2002 Bilderberg meeting," says Mr Gosling.
But "privacy, rather than secrecy", is key to such a meeting says Financial Times journalist Martin Wolf, who has been invited several times in a non-reporting role.
"The idea that such meetings cannot be held in private is fundamentally totalitarian," he says. "It's not an executive body; no decisions are taken there."
As an up-and-coming statesmen in the 1950s, Denis Healey, who went on to become a Labour chancellor, was one of the four founding members of Bilderberg (which was named after the hotel in Holland where the first meeting was held in 1954).
His response to claims that Bilderberg exerts a shadowy hand on the global tiller is met with characteristic bluntness. "Crap!"
"There's absolutely nothing in it. We never sought to reach a consensus on the big issues at Bilderberg. It's simply a place for discussion," says Lord Healey.
Formed in the spirit of post-war trans-Atlantic co-operation, the idea behind Bilderberg was that future wars could be prevented by bringing power-brokers together in an informal setting away from prying eyes.
"Bilderberg is the most useful international group I ever attended. The confidentiality enabled people to speak honestly without fear of repercussions.
"In my experience the most useful meetings are those when one is free to speak openly and honestly. It's not unusual at all. Cabinet meetings in all countries are held behind closed doors and the minutes are not published."
That activists have seized on Bilderberg is no surprise to Alasdair Spark, an expert in conspiracy theories.
"The idea that a shadowy clique is running the world is nothing new. For hundreds of years people have believed the world is governed by a cabal of Jews.
"Shouldn't we expect that the rich and powerful organise things in their own interests. It's called capitalism."
Story from BBC NEWS: http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/2/hi/uk_news/magazine/3773019.stm
Published: 2004/06/03 11:34:47 GMT © BBC MMIV
Beach Encounter by Mia Watkins
Beach Encounter
Author: Mia Watkins
One crisp, early November morning, I took a brisk walk on a beach near my home. Except for the gentle surf and some screeching seagulls, the beach was silent and deserted. Emotionally, I was reeling under the stress of a recent difficult divorce. How was it possible that a family like ours could totally disintegrate? We already had our two daughters when I was diagnosed with cancer.
Treatments followed with the usual sickness and loss of hair. They were unsuccessful, and eventually I had major surgery. Miraculously, I recovered from this ordeal and was given a clean bill of health.
During the following months I began to lose my balance and tire easily. After many doctors' appointments and tests, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. My HMO offered no treatment or hope. I coped the best I could, had hand controls put in my car, used crutches on bad days and even a wheelchair at times. My husband was unable to cope with all these illnesses. He began to show symptoms of manic-depression and eventually became abusive, even to the point where he once beat me unconscious.
God had been my strength and anchor during these ordeals. I knew He was walking with me, that He would never leave me or forsake me, and knew all about my wounds and hurts. It was His peace that had carried me thus far. Some days, when my legs were strong enough to carry me unaided, I enjoyed my beach walks like on this crisp November morning.
In the distance, I spotted a man sitting quietly on the sand, gazing at the ocean. Yet, as I passed him from behind, I saw his shoulders shaking and realized that he was sobbing, apparently in great agony. Should I stop and talk with him? A perfect stranger? Who knew if he was a fugitive or an ax murderer? I walked on.
However, something about those agonizing sobs pulled me back. I slowly turned and walked toward him. He was still crying and hardly seemed to notice me. I took a closer look and saw a man in his forties, dressed in jeans and T-shirt, short hair and cleanly shaven. Certainly not a dangerous-looking man. Gently, I sat down beside him. For a moment, no one spoke, then I asked softly.
"Are you all right? Can I help you with something?" He kept staring at the ocean.
"I have melanoma," he said. "They are going to amputate my leg."
Taken aback, I was silent for a moment, then began to ask him general questions, hoping to calm him down and get his mind on something else. I learned that his name was John, he was single and alone in the world. I noticed a necklace he was wearing, made out of old string fashioned into a cross. Wanting to keep the conversation going, I asked him:
"Where did you get that, John?"
"I made it in Vietnam," he began. "My buddies and I were in a foxhole. They all got killed, except me. The enemy was still around so I could not move or let them know I was alive. To get my mind off the danger, I took the strings of my buddies' gear and started to knot it into a necklace. I prayed for safety while I was doing this and put a cross at the end. I have never taken it off," he finished.
"When you were praying," I asked softly, "did you believe God heard you?"
"I don't know," he said, "my life was spared, but what for? Now I have a deadly disease. Look at all the thousands of people who were killed during the war. How can a good God allow all this?"
I explained as best as I could what the Bible has to say about good and evil, war and disease.
As I spoke I was strangely aware that somehow these weren't my own words pouring out of my mouth. They came with a compassion and conviction that weren't my own. God was there with us, explaining His love and care to this desperate young man.
"John," I said gently, "you've been through a lot and you are facing a lot more. You need someone to lean on, to support you. You need Jesus as your friend. You can trust Him, and He loves you, John. God is there for you. Jesus, His son, died, so that we may have peace and eternal life. We need this peace to go through life," I stressed.
I told John a little about my own life's struggles and illnesses.
"I could not have made it without God's help and support. Even today, as I was walking on the beach, I felt His presence and his strength. Without Him, I could never have survived. But look, I'm still alive and I still have hope. You can too, John."
Our conversation continued. John had many questions. The gentle surf kept rolling toward us, and I knew God was at work in John's heart. Finally, I asked him if he wanted to pray. Slowly, he nodded his head.
Gently, I led him in a prayer of forgiveness and surrender to the Lord. We both wept, but this time John's tears were not tears of sorrow but tears of relief and peace. Deeply moved, I was amazed at this transformation and in awe that God had used me in this way so unexpectedly.
"John," I finally warned him, "you're going to have a hard time. You're a child of Christ now, and there are going to be some roadblocks ahead of you. It's very important that you find a good church, get a Bible and start reading it."
I suggested a local beach community church.
"People dress informally there, John. You can come just as you are."
I got up to leave and rummaged through my bag for a business card but found none. Finally, I tore a deposit slip from my checkbook, wrote down my phone number and handed it to John.
"Call me," I said. "We'll talk and I can also get you a Bible."
Then I got up to continue my walk. I hadn't gone far, when he got up and ran after me, calling me back.
"You know," he said, when he caught up with me, "you are an angel who dropped in from heaven."
I smiled and said, "No, John, you've watched too much TV I'm not an angel." I turned away again, but he stopped me. Slowly he took his necklace off and handed it to me.
"I want you to have this," he said.
Tears came to my eyes again. Overwhelmed, I knew I couldn't refuse his gift, so I carefully accepted it and pulled it gently over my head.
When I returned home I hung John's necklace over my desk lamp. Every time I saw it there, I prayed that God would keep him safe and in the center of his will.
I did not hear from John again, but the following spring a letter arrived. There was no return address. Inside was a small card. Taped to it was a crumpled piece of paper from my checkbook with my address. On the back of the card was one sentence: John went to be with the Lord.
When I read it, I cried and removed John's necklace from my lamp and put it with other treasures in a safe place. I knew I would see John again in heaven. But the story did not end there. Three years later, last December, I received a mysterious Christmas card. Again, there was no return address. Inside was a handwritten note that said: “I'll be eternally grateful for my son's eternal life.
I'm John's mother, and I now attend his church.”
A note from the author:
P.S. I'm glad to report that today my multiple sclerosis is in complete remission. I have given away my crutches and wheelchair and recently had the hand controls in my car removed. To God be the glory.
“A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;” - Ecclesiastes 3:4
Author: Mia Watkins
One crisp, early November morning, I took a brisk walk on a beach near my home. Except for the gentle surf and some screeching seagulls, the beach was silent and deserted. Emotionally, I was reeling under the stress of a recent difficult divorce. How was it possible that a family like ours could totally disintegrate? We already had our two daughters when I was diagnosed with cancer.
Treatments followed with the usual sickness and loss of hair. They were unsuccessful, and eventually I had major surgery. Miraculously, I recovered from this ordeal and was given a clean bill of health.
During the following months I began to lose my balance and tire easily. After many doctors' appointments and tests, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. My HMO offered no treatment or hope. I coped the best I could, had hand controls put in my car, used crutches on bad days and even a wheelchair at times. My husband was unable to cope with all these illnesses. He began to show symptoms of manic-depression and eventually became abusive, even to the point where he once beat me unconscious.
God had been my strength and anchor during these ordeals. I knew He was walking with me, that He would never leave me or forsake me, and knew all about my wounds and hurts. It was His peace that had carried me thus far. Some days, when my legs were strong enough to carry me unaided, I enjoyed my beach walks like on this crisp November morning.
In the distance, I spotted a man sitting quietly on the sand, gazing at the ocean. Yet, as I passed him from behind, I saw his shoulders shaking and realized that he was sobbing, apparently in great agony. Should I stop and talk with him? A perfect stranger? Who knew if he was a fugitive or an ax murderer? I walked on.
However, something about those agonizing sobs pulled me back. I slowly turned and walked toward him. He was still crying and hardly seemed to notice me. I took a closer look and saw a man in his forties, dressed in jeans and T-shirt, short hair and cleanly shaven. Certainly not a dangerous-looking man. Gently, I sat down beside him. For a moment, no one spoke, then I asked softly.
"Are you all right? Can I help you with something?" He kept staring at the ocean.
"I have melanoma," he said. "They are going to amputate my leg."
Taken aback, I was silent for a moment, then began to ask him general questions, hoping to calm him down and get his mind on something else. I learned that his name was John, he was single and alone in the world. I noticed a necklace he was wearing, made out of old string fashioned into a cross. Wanting to keep the conversation going, I asked him:
"Where did you get that, John?"
"I made it in Vietnam," he began. "My buddies and I were in a foxhole. They all got killed, except me. The enemy was still around so I could not move or let them know I was alive. To get my mind off the danger, I took the strings of my buddies' gear and started to knot it into a necklace. I prayed for safety while I was doing this and put a cross at the end. I have never taken it off," he finished.
"When you were praying," I asked softly, "did you believe God heard you?"
"I don't know," he said, "my life was spared, but what for? Now I have a deadly disease. Look at all the thousands of people who were killed during the war. How can a good God allow all this?"
I explained as best as I could what the Bible has to say about good and evil, war and disease.
As I spoke I was strangely aware that somehow these weren't my own words pouring out of my mouth. They came with a compassion and conviction that weren't my own. God was there with us, explaining His love and care to this desperate young man.
"John," I said gently, "you've been through a lot and you are facing a lot more. You need someone to lean on, to support you. You need Jesus as your friend. You can trust Him, and He loves you, John. God is there for you. Jesus, His son, died, so that we may have peace and eternal life. We need this peace to go through life," I stressed.
I told John a little about my own life's struggles and illnesses.
"I could not have made it without God's help and support. Even today, as I was walking on the beach, I felt His presence and his strength. Without Him, I could never have survived. But look, I'm still alive and I still have hope. You can too, John."
Our conversation continued. John had many questions. The gentle surf kept rolling toward us, and I knew God was at work in John's heart. Finally, I asked him if he wanted to pray. Slowly, he nodded his head.
Gently, I led him in a prayer of forgiveness and surrender to the Lord. We both wept, but this time John's tears were not tears of sorrow but tears of relief and peace. Deeply moved, I was amazed at this transformation and in awe that God had used me in this way so unexpectedly.
"John," I finally warned him, "you're going to have a hard time. You're a child of Christ now, and there are going to be some roadblocks ahead of you. It's very important that you find a good church, get a Bible and start reading it."
I suggested a local beach community church.
"People dress informally there, John. You can come just as you are."
I got up to leave and rummaged through my bag for a business card but found none. Finally, I tore a deposit slip from my checkbook, wrote down my phone number and handed it to John.
"Call me," I said. "We'll talk and I can also get you a Bible."
Then I got up to continue my walk. I hadn't gone far, when he got up and ran after me, calling me back.
"You know," he said, when he caught up with me, "you are an angel who dropped in from heaven."
I smiled and said, "No, John, you've watched too much TV I'm not an angel." I turned away again, but he stopped me. Slowly he took his necklace off and handed it to me.
"I want you to have this," he said.
Tears came to my eyes again. Overwhelmed, I knew I couldn't refuse his gift, so I carefully accepted it and pulled it gently over my head.
When I returned home I hung John's necklace over my desk lamp. Every time I saw it there, I prayed that God would keep him safe and in the center of his will.
I did not hear from John again, but the following spring a letter arrived. There was no return address. Inside was a small card. Taped to it was a crumpled piece of paper from my checkbook with my address. On the back of the card was one sentence: John went to be with the Lord.
When I read it, I cried and removed John's necklace from my lamp and put it with other treasures in a safe place. I knew I would see John again in heaven. But the story did not end there. Three years later, last December, I received a mysterious Christmas card. Again, there was no return address. Inside was a handwritten note that said: “I'll be eternally grateful for my son's eternal life.
I'm John's mother, and I now attend his church.”
A note from the author:
P.S. I'm glad to report that today my multiple sclerosis is in complete remission. I have given away my crutches and wheelchair and recently had the hand controls in my car removed. To God be the glory.
“A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;” - Ecclesiastes 3:4
A Very Short Story by Tamara Halbritter
And Then You Wake Up
by Tamara Halbritter
I had a dream last night. The kind that wakes you up, gives you chills and sends you right to the liquor cabinet. Where you’re sweating and it’s only 50 degrees. Where you inventory body parts. Then you look to see if they’re really yours, and if they could’ve been at that place.
With those people. Those awful people.
They had taken your child away from you, saying she’d be safe. They had forced you through a doorway and . . . now you can’t remember what happened. So you try to go back before the doorway. Before they took Anna.
A sound hammers at your ears, like a ratchet striking metal. Nonstop noise and pitch black, broken only by shards of light slashing your dirty shirt. You look around for a way out.
Watching the mud along the floor, you see a shadow rise up against the wall.
Next, you’re eating dinner in a café with three strangers. They are cold, like the rigid leather chairs. You look at the clock, wanting to pick up Anna. The waiter never returns. You wait and wait. The conversation floats around you, dull sounds waft into your ears.
The three strangers don’t notice that you can t hear them. One is gray and sits up straight. The others are younger and slouch against the booth. Their dank odor assaults you. Hand shaking, you set down your glass. You want to pick up Anna.
A corridor before dinner, walking through a corridor to get to the restaurant. The gray one marched ahead. Photos lined the wall, black and white photos of people that all looked the same. Whispering from the other two echoed and grated against the tiled surfaces. Stiffly, you followed.
You smell bergamot.
And you give Anna a hug. She reaches for your neck to stay and shrieks when they take her. They carry her through the doorway and shove you back the other way. She cries and stretches toward you. You can’t reach her.
She’ll be safe. She’ll be safe. She’ll be safe.
Your heart ricochets off its cavity walls, sending wild blood. You can’t get enough air. You are trapped. Your throat aches from trying to scream through the fabric, the handkerchief. The chair won’t budge. Chilled and sweating and terrified, you wake up.
Still gasping for breath, no marks on your wrists, real tears. You clamber out of bed, walk down the hall to Anna’s room. You peer through the doorway. She’s not there. You run to her crib, tear wildly at the sheets, and slump back. She’s at her father’s tonight.
She’ll be safe, you think.
Shivering, you head to the liquor cabinet and reach for the brandy.
by Tamara Halbritter
I had a dream last night. The kind that wakes you up, gives you chills and sends you right to the liquor cabinet. Where you’re sweating and it’s only 50 degrees. Where you inventory body parts. Then you look to see if they’re really yours, and if they could’ve been at that place.
With those people. Those awful people.
They had taken your child away from you, saying she’d be safe. They had forced you through a doorway and . . . now you can’t remember what happened. So you try to go back before the doorway. Before they took Anna.
A sound hammers at your ears, like a ratchet striking metal. Nonstop noise and pitch black, broken only by shards of light slashing your dirty shirt. You look around for a way out.
Watching the mud along the floor, you see a shadow rise up against the wall.
Next, you’re eating dinner in a café with three strangers. They are cold, like the rigid leather chairs. You look at the clock, wanting to pick up Anna. The waiter never returns. You wait and wait. The conversation floats around you, dull sounds waft into your ears.
The three strangers don’t notice that you can t hear them. One is gray and sits up straight. The others are younger and slouch against the booth. Their dank odor assaults you. Hand shaking, you set down your glass. You want to pick up Anna.
A corridor before dinner, walking through a corridor to get to the restaurant. The gray one marched ahead. Photos lined the wall, black and white photos of people that all looked the same. Whispering from the other two echoed and grated against the tiled surfaces. Stiffly, you followed.
You smell bergamot.
And you give Anna a hug. She reaches for your neck to stay and shrieks when they take her. They carry her through the doorway and shove you back the other way. She cries and stretches toward you. You can’t reach her.
She’ll be safe. She’ll be safe. She’ll be safe.
Your heart ricochets off its cavity walls, sending wild blood. You can’t get enough air. You are trapped. Your throat aches from trying to scream through the fabric, the handkerchief. The chair won’t budge. Chilled and sweating and terrified, you wake up.
Still gasping for breath, no marks on your wrists, real tears. You clamber out of bed, walk down the hall to Anna’s room. You peer through the doorway. She’s not there. You run to her crib, tear wildly at the sheets, and slump back. She’s at her father’s tonight.
She’ll be safe, you think.
Shivering, you head to the liquor cabinet and reach for the brandy.
The Old Farmer's Pond
An old farmer in Kansas had owned a large farm for several years. He had a large pond in the back, fixed up nice; picnic tables, horseshoe courts, and some apple and peach trees. The pond was properly shaped and fixed up for swimming when it was built.
One evening the old farmer decided to go down to the pond, as he hadn't been there for a while, and look it over. He grabbed a five gallon bucket to bring back some fruit As he neared the pond, he heard voices shouting and laughing with glee.
As he came closer he saw it was a bunch of young women skinny-dipping in his pond. He made the women aware of his presence and they all went to the deep end of the pond.
One of the women shouted to him, "We're not coming out until you leave!"
The old man frowned, "I didn't come down here to watch you ladies swim naked or make you get out of the pond naked." Holding the bucket up he said, "I'm here to feed the alligator."
Moral: Old age and cunning will triumph over youth and enthusiasm every time.
One evening the old farmer decided to go down to the pond, as he hadn't been there for a while, and look it over. He grabbed a five gallon bucket to bring back some fruit As he neared the pond, he heard voices shouting and laughing with glee.
As he came closer he saw it was a bunch of young women skinny-dipping in his pond. He made the women aware of his presence and they all went to the deep end of the pond.
One of the women shouted to him, "We're not coming out until you leave!"
The old man frowned, "I didn't come down here to watch you ladies swim naked or make you get out of the pond naked." Holding the bucket up he said, "I'm here to feed the alligator."
Moral: Old age and cunning will triumph over youth and enthusiasm every time.
A Thank You to God
Dear God:
I want to thank you for what you have already done.
I am not going to wait until I see results or receive rewards. I am thanking you right now.
I am not going to wait until I feel better or things look better, I am thanking you right now.
I am not going to wait until people say they are sorry or until they stop talking about me, I am thanking you right now.
I am not going to wait until the pain in my body disappears. I am thanking you right now.
I am not going to wait until my financial situation improves. I am going to thank you right now.
I am not going to wait until the children are asleep and the house is quiet, I am going to thank you right now.
I am not going to wait until I get promoted at work or until I get the job, I am going to thank you right now.
I am not going to wait until I understand every experience in my life that has caused me pain or grief. I am going to thank you right now.
I am not going to wait until the journey gets easier or the challenges are removed, I am thanking you right now.
I am thanking you because I am alive. I am thanking you because I made it through the day's difficulties. I am thanking you because I have walked around the obstacles. I am thanking you because I have the ability and the opportunity to do more and do better. I am thanking you because you have not given up on me.
"And Jabez called on the God of Israel, saying, Oh that thou wouldest bless me indeed, and enlarge my coast, and that thine hand might be with me, and that thou wouldest keep me from evil, that it may not grieve me! And God granted him that which he requested." -1 Chronicles 4:10
I want to thank you for what you have already done.
I am not going to wait until I see results or receive rewards. I am thanking you right now.
I am not going to wait until I feel better or things look better, I am thanking you right now.
I am not going to wait until people say they are sorry or until they stop talking about me, I am thanking you right now.
I am not going to wait until the pain in my body disappears. I am thanking you right now.
I am not going to wait until my financial situation improves. I am going to thank you right now.
I am not going to wait until the children are asleep and the house is quiet, I am going to thank you right now.
I am not going to wait until I get promoted at work or until I get the job, I am going to thank you right now.
I am not going to wait until I understand every experience in my life that has caused me pain or grief. I am going to thank you right now.
I am not going to wait until the journey gets easier or the challenges are removed, I am thanking you right now.
I am thanking you because I am alive. I am thanking you because I made it through the day's difficulties. I am thanking you because I have walked around the obstacles. I am thanking you because I have the ability and the opportunity to do more and do better. I am thanking you because you have not given up on me.
"And Jabez called on the God of Israel, saying, Oh that thou wouldest bless me indeed, and enlarge my coast, and that thine hand might be with me, and that thou wouldest keep me from evil, that it may not grieve me! And God granted him that which he requested." -1 Chronicles 4:10
A love story from Song of Solomon
Vignette
Tenaciously clung to
Follow the flock and you find their shepherd.
Previous love song of God
A love promise
A close and intimate communion complete unity and oneness of love is possible only with the believer through the church, the Bride, and Jesus Christ, the Divine Bridegroom.
A debt of gratitude
He took me by the hand
Courtship
Learn to love him
Open your eyes to behold his beauty
Longing for fuller enjoyment of his love
Fear of total surrender includes fear of pain and hurt emotions
She loves his presence but his visits are infrequent
She will not trust him fully. Her will is unsurrendered.
She longs for his presence. His absence becomes more unbearable.
She fears what he might require of her. Her distrust grieves his tender heart. She is unsatisfied and unhappy.
His love conquers her fear. She yields herself. She will love him, come what may.
When she agrees (submits), he takes her into his chambers alone with him. Sacred intimacies of his wondrous love. First fruits of her consummation are gladness and rejoicing.
She is aware of her imperfections in the light of morning; she is ashamed of her appearance. She wears the wounds of her sin like scars. He knows, yet loves her still. He likens her beauty to that which is beautiful around him.
She desires to labor with him and for him. This stirs his heart-love for her.
He gives her gifts. He delights to add to her adornments. His gifts increase his own pleasure. His presence brings out her beauty and fragrance.
He himself is well-beloved and far better than everything his gifts bring unto her. Their communion is intimate. He may lie all night betwixt her breasts. She finds him wholly desirable.
His great heart is occupied with her. Hawks have quick and penetrating eyes. Doves have tender eyes of innocence.
She affirms that he is the one who is fair and pleasant. She compares his pleasantness to that of her surroundings.
He tells her she is choice among women. He is delightful, refreshing and noble.
She experiences yet another demonstration of his love, this time in public. He is not ashamed to acknowledge her before his friends. He brings her to a banquet. All who are present recognize his great love for her. He spreads his love banner over her.
She is overwhelmed with his love. She finds the blessedness of being possessed. She is comforted by his hand under her head, his arms embrace her.
Heart-rest is her right and enjoyment. It is never by his will that her rest be disturbed.
She loves hearing the voice of her beloved. The sound of his voice brings her great anticipation.
He playfully wants to secretly gaze upon her without her knowing but she sees him behind the wall, at the window, peeking through the lattice. (cf voyeurism and television and movies where we get to look at others without their “knowing”)
In the clefts of the rocks, in the secret places of the stairs . . .
He yearns to see her face, to hear her voice. He grows concerned that she is unhappy with him.
She comforts herself that no matter how she treats him, she will never lose him. She possesses him. He possesses her. She knows where to find him if she needs him.
Until the shadows flee away
She turns him away and tells him to return next morning
Careless of his desire, she will enjoy his love later.
Wounded by her refusal, he departs, too hurt to reproach her.
By the time night came, she realized she was alone. She sought him whom her soul loved but found him
Not. She missed him. His absence becomes insupportable, so she goes in search of him in the dark. She could not find him.
The watchmen of the city (police?) find her desperately searching for her beloved. She inquires if they have seen him. They reply no. She leaves them.
Then she finds him, a very short time after this.
She confesses her love for him openly.
She held him and would not let him go. She clung to him, determined to never let him go again. Frightened of losing him, she retreats with him to the safest place she knows (her mother’s bedroom?).
He lets her lead him to her safe place with no words of reproach. Intimate communion is immediately restored. He tells everyone to be quiet and not disturb her sleep. He will let her awake when she pleases. (What an honor and privilege!)
As he returns with his “entourage,” others see their own handiwork of his vehicles and their ornate artistic richness. They have pride in their own handiwork and not their returning king.
But she is occupied with her returning king. She calls attention to him. She rejoices upon seeing him.
His wedding day, recalled, was the day of the gladness of his heart. She glories in his remembrance of their love.
The first words of his greeting reveal how much he has missed her. He exults her beauty.
Her love is silent during his greeting. Too deep for expression.
He tells her he is leaving again, the next morning. He woos her. He stirs her desire to be with him. He invites her to come with hi, even in dangerous places. He wants her to want to be with him, no matter where he is.
He has ravished his heart, taken it away, with one look of her eyes. Her ready attentiveness inspires more of his praise.
He is entirely ravished with her. She holds his heart.
He praises her love, fair, better than wine. Her lips and tongue drip like honeycomb and cream. Her garments smell like fragrant spices and herbs. She is his personal private garden. She is sealed up to all but him. She is savory and full of life.
She invites and entices him to enter into his private garden, and partake or eat of his pleasant fruits. He answers her call at once. He assures her that he finds all his satisfaction with her.
She is asleep. Night. Alone. Her heart awakes. It is night, and he has come home. He wants in. He knocks at the door, not opening it himself. He implores her, “open to me.” He wants her to freely open to him. He tries to inspire her, to open to him, on the basis of his closeness to her. He urges her to open by reference to his need. He is wet with dew or rain.
She refuses and makes excuses that she’s ready for bed. He tries to open the door himself but finds it locked. She hears this – her heart is moved for him.
She got out of bed but paused to put on fragrance, more occupied with her graces than with his desire. She opened the door but he had already left. She realizes she failed him when he had spoken.
She seeks him in the dark, calls him, but he doesn’t answer.
She is overcome with his love. She forgets her own problems and thinks only of him. She describes his
Appearance – white or sun burnt? Ruddy – fresh, healthy red color, a glorious complexion, curling locks of COLOR hair, sparkling clear eyes evenly positioned, smells fragrant, soft lips, speech is sweet, strong lips, jointed perfectly, beautiful countenance, mouth is sweet and good, altogether lovely and perfect.
She calls him her beloved and her friend.
From her heartfelt description, other women desire to see him. Because she knows where his heart is, she suddenly knows where he is.
She claims herself as his possession. Her claim on him comes last. She still knows herself to be the object of his desire.
She knows he has been waiting for her.
He appears. He immediately speaks loving words to her in the presence of other women.
Even though she is wounded, he describes how beautiful she is to him, overwhelming beauty. Abundant COLOR hair.
Fair as the moon, clear as the sun, fresh as a new day.
She partakes of his work. He is beside her. Before she is aware, her soul carries her away. He is more to her than any other beloved. Shula.
In the presence of the king, she cannot conceive why any attention should be paid her. She asks what they see in her that makes them act so.
The women describe her overwhelming beauty.
The king is held captive in her tresses. Her hair is wrapped around his memory.
Now, after listening to their praise, he cannot remain silent. He openly delights in her. Fair. Pleasant. He finds her delightful and refreshing.
The apples she had eaten at his tree imparted to her a sweet breath. He is the source of her beauty and fruitfulness.
Even when asleep, she is aware of his presence.
She claims herself as his possession. She identifies herself as the object of his desire. She leaves out her claim on him.
She wishes to be alone with him. She calls him away. She wishes to satisfy him with her love. Commune together alone. She wishes to demonstrate her love.
She wishes she could have cared for him as he has cared for her. She would give him the best of herself (enclosed garden). For giving of herself, he would love her.
She sleeps restfully after contemplating such happy thoughts.
She leans upon him. Others notice their oneness. She is leaning upon him. He claims her as his possession from her very birth.
He takes delight in her beauty.
She remembers her inconstancy. She pleads him to bind her to his heart and arm. Seal upon his heart. His love is as strong as death.
Her jealousy, fear of losing his affection, is cruel as the grave.
He reassures her. Many waters cannot quench love. If a man gave all he had to buy love, it would be despised. Love cannot be quenched or bought. Her love to him is secured by his love to her.
She is conscious of her union with him by the fact that she says “we”. In all things she is one with him.
She recognizes him as her instructor and asks his advice.
Her walls enclose him, not ass doors would keep him out.
She is conscious that she has found favor in his eyes.
She does not work for him to earn favor but to demonstrate her love. She knew he loved her.
He asks her to let him hear her voice. He desires her presence.
In response to his voice, she beckons him to come to her. Make haste.
Tenaciously clung to
Follow the flock and you find their shepherd.
Previous love song of God
A love promise
A close and intimate communion complete unity and oneness of love is possible only with the believer through the church, the Bride, and Jesus Christ, the Divine Bridegroom.
A debt of gratitude
He took me by the hand
Courtship
Learn to love him
Open your eyes to behold his beauty
Longing for fuller enjoyment of his love
Fear of total surrender includes fear of pain and hurt emotions
She loves his presence but his visits are infrequent
She will not trust him fully. Her will is unsurrendered.
She longs for his presence. His absence becomes more unbearable.
She fears what he might require of her. Her distrust grieves his tender heart. She is unsatisfied and unhappy.
His love conquers her fear. She yields herself. She will love him, come what may.
When she agrees (submits), he takes her into his chambers alone with him. Sacred intimacies of his wondrous love. First fruits of her consummation are gladness and rejoicing.
She is aware of her imperfections in the light of morning; she is ashamed of her appearance. She wears the wounds of her sin like scars. He knows, yet loves her still. He likens her beauty to that which is beautiful around him.
She desires to labor with him and for him. This stirs his heart-love for her.
He gives her gifts. He delights to add to her adornments. His gifts increase his own pleasure. His presence brings out her beauty and fragrance.
He himself is well-beloved and far better than everything his gifts bring unto her. Their communion is intimate. He may lie all night betwixt her breasts. She finds him wholly desirable.
His great heart is occupied with her. Hawks have quick and penetrating eyes. Doves have tender eyes of innocence.
She affirms that he is the one who is fair and pleasant. She compares his pleasantness to that of her surroundings.
He tells her she is choice among women. He is delightful, refreshing and noble.
She experiences yet another demonstration of his love, this time in public. He is not ashamed to acknowledge her before his friends. He brings her to a banquet. All who are present recognize his great love for her. He spreads his love banner over her.
She is overwhelmed with his love. She finds the blessedness of being possessed. She is comforted by his hand under her head, his arms embrace her.
Heart-rest is her right and enjoyment. It is never by his will that her rest be disturbed.
She loves hearing the voice of her beloved. The sound of his voice brings her great anticipation.
He playfully wants to secretly gaze upon her without her knowing but she sees him behind the wall, at the window, peeking through the lattice. (cf voyeurism and television and movies where we get to look at others without their “knowing”)
In the clefts of the rocks, in the secret places of the stairs . . .
He yearns to see her face, to hear her voice. He grows concerned that she is unhappy with him.
She comforts herself that no matter how she treats him, she will never lose him. She possesses him. He possesses her. She knows where to find him if she needs him.
Until the shadows flee away
She turns him away and tells him to return next morning
Careless of his desire, she will enjoy his love later.
Wounded by her refusal, he departs, too hurt to reproach her.
By the time night came, she realized she was alone. She sought him whom her soul loved but found him
Not. She missed him. His absence becomes insupportable, so she goes in search of him in the dark. She could not find him.
The watchmen of the city (police?) find her desperately searching for her beloved. She inquires if they have seen him. They reply no. She leaves them.
Then she finds him, a very short time after this.
She confesses her love for him openly.
She held him and would not let him go. She clung to him, determined to never let him go again. Frightened of losing him, she retreats with him to the safest place she knows (her mother’s bedroom?).
He lets her lead him to her safe place with no words of reproach. Intimate communion is immediately restored. He tells everyone to be quiet and not disturb her sleep. He will let her awake when she pleases. (What an honor and privilege!)
As he returns with his “entourage,” others see their own handiwork of his vehicles and their ornate artistic richness. They have pride in their own handiwork and not their returning king.
But she is occupied with her returning king. She calls attention to him. She rejoices upon seeing him.
His wedding day, recalled, was the day of the gladness of his heart. She glories in his remembrance of their love.
The first words of his greeting reveal how much he has missed her. He exults her beauty.
Her love is silent during his greeting. Too deep for expression.
He tells her he is leaving again, the next morning. He woos her. He stirs her desire to be with him. He invites her to come with hi, even in dangerous places. He wants her to want to be with him, no matter where he is.
He has ravished his heart, taken it away, with one look of her eyes. Her ready attentiveness inspires more of his praise.
He is entirely ravished with her. She holds his heart.
He praises her love, fair, better than wine. Her lips and tongue drip like honeycomb and cream. Her garments smell like fragrant spices and herbs. She is his personal private garden. She is sealed up to all but him. She is savory and full of life.
She invites and entices him to enter into his private garden, and partake or eat of his pleasant fruits. He answers her call at once. He assures her that he finds all his satisfaction with her.
She is asleep. Night. Alone. Her heart awakes. It is night, and he has come home. He wants in. He knocks at the door, not opening it himself. He implores her, “open to me.” He wants her to freely open to him. He tries to inspire her, to open to him, on the basis of his closeness to her. He urges her to open by reference to his need. He is wet with dew or rain.
She refuses and makes excuses that she’s ready for bed. He tries to open the door himself but finds it locked. She hears this – her heart is moved for him.
She got out of bed but paused to put on fragrance, more occupied with her graces than with his desire. She opened the door but he had already left. She realizes she failed him when he had spoken.
She seeks him in the dark, calls him, but he doesn’t answer.
She is overcome with his love. She forgets her own problems and thinks only of him. She describes his
Appearance – white or sun burnt? Ruddy – fresh, healthy red color, a glorious complexion, curling locks of COLOR hair, sparkling clear eyes evenly positioned, smells fragrant, soft lips, speech is sweet, strong lips, jointed perfectly, beautiful countenance, mouth is sweet and good, altogether lovely and perfect.
She calls him her beloved and her friend.
From her heartfelt description, other women desire to see him. Because she knows where his heart is, she suddenly knows where he is.
She claims herself as his possession. Her claim on him comes last. She still knows herself to be the object of his desire.
She knows he has been waiting for her.
He appears. He immediately speaks loving words to her in the presence of other women.
Even though she is wounded, he describes how beautiful she is to him, overwhelming beauty. Abundant COLOR hair.
Fair as the moon, clear as the sun, fresh as a new day.
She partakes of his work. He is beside her. Before she is aware, her soul carries her away. He is more to her than any other beloved. Shula.
In the presence of the king, she cannot conceive why any attention should be paid her. She asks what they see in her that makes them act so.
The women describe her overwhelming beauty.
The king is held captive in her tresses. Her hair is wrapped around his memory.
Now, after listening to their praise, he cannot remain silent. He openly delights in her. Fair. Pleasant. He finds her delightful and refreshing.
The apples she had eaten at his tree imparted to her a sweet breath. He is the source of her beauty and fruitfulness.
Even when asleep, she is aware of his presence.
She claims herself as his possession. She identifies herself as the object of his desire. She leaves out her claim on him.
She wishes to be alone with him. She calls him away. She wishes to satisfy him with her love. Commune together alone. She wishes to demonstrate her love.
She wishes she could have cared for him as he has cared for her. She would give him the best of herself (enclosed garden). For giving of herself, he would love her.
She sleeps restfully after contemplating such happy thoughts.
She leans upon him. Others notice their oneness. She is leaning upon him. He claims her as his possession from her very birth.
He takes delight in her beauty.
She remembers her inconstancy. She pleads him to bind her to his heart and arm. Seal upon his heart. His love is as strong as death.
Her jealousy, fear of losing his affection, is cruel as the grave.
He reassures her. Many waters cannot quench love. If a man gave all he had to buy love, it would be despised. Love cannot be quenched or bought. Her love to him is secured by his love to her.
She is conscious of her union with him by the fact that she says “we”. In all things she is one with him.
She recognizes him as her instructor and asks his advice.
Her walls enclose him, not ass doors would keep him out.
She is conscious that she has found favor in his eyes.
She does not work for him to earn favor but to demonstrate her love. She knew he loved her.
He asks her to let him hear her voice. He desires her presence.
In response to his voice, she beckons him to come to her. Make haste.
A Buried Treasure
Author: Bob Perks bob@bobperks.com
She is your neighbor. She lives in that house down the street where the grass gets a little tall in the summer. The sidewalks remain covered in snow a little longer than most of the homes in your area. During your early morning drive you'll see her outside in her housecoat and slippers sweeping the porch. Even on a warm summer day she wears a heavy sweater.
Every so often you see her walking down the street with her fold-up push cart heading toward the grocery store. For the most part she is invisible to the world. She has become a part of the scenery. She goes about her daily routines asking for nothing from the world. And the world responds by doing nothing for her.
The truth is she could die tomorrow and you most likely wouldn't even miss her.
"They're selling that old house down the street. You know, where that old lady lived."
"I saw a sign at the grocery store. They're having a tag sale. God, I bet there's some great old stuff in there. Let's make a point to go Saturday. We'll get there early for some real bargains."
By the end of that Saturday, when the last piece of her life has been sold, she will be but a memory for someone. Her worth to whatever family members laid claim to her property, will be in dollars and cents. She was just passing through this life, biding her time.
"How sad," you say to yourself.
How sad indeed. Sad that you never got to know her.
If you had taken the time to say "hello" one day you would have been blessed. Perhaps walking the down the street one early summer's eve you would have seen her sitting on the old oak rocking chair you got at a bargain price the day they auctioned off her life. That chair was hand made by her Father. He came to America with the skill of a craftsman and raised her and her seven siblings with his bare hands. Her Momma sat in that chair and breast fed every one of them. She made their clothes, baked bread everyday and tended to a large garden that they depended on for fresh vegetables.
This mysterious old lady was married once for what would have been a lifetime for most of us. Her husband died years ago, but not before he paid the last payment on the home you rummaged through on Saturday.
Children? They had seven kids and raised them on hand-me-downs and fresh garden vegetables. Two died at an early age, one in a car accident when he was just a teen. The others went on to college and scattered across the U.S. in search of big dollars, big homes and little respect for who gave them life and everything they had today.
Except for a few photographs that they split among themselves as tokens of the "good old days" they each received their portion of the estate and went on with their lives.
Some where in her possessions they found an envelope filled with cash. On it was written the words, "I couldn't spend your money." For they would send her checks to pay someone to cut the grass and shovel the sidewalk.
She did it herself.
She had no living relatives and very few friends to visit her. The ones still around were tucked away in nursing homes she couldn't get to visit.
Yes, how sad it is that you didn't take the time to say hello. You would have met an honest to goodness Angel here on earth.
I am guilty, too. You see, I wouldn't have met her either except one day while driving past her house I blew a tire and pulled by the side of the road. While struggling with the spare, she came out and offered me a fresh glass of homemade iced tea. I sat on her steps as she rocked in that chair and told me a lifetime of stories. She talked so long she apologized for she rarely got visitors. I assured her that she need not apologize at all. I was the one who was sorry that I had never stopped by sooner.
"You are an angel," I told her.
In her sweet, gentle voice she said, " We are each other's angels. We meet when it is time."
She died the other day and I sat on her front porch and watched her life fall apart.
The neighbors got some real bargains that day. But I found a treasure.
"I Believe in you!" Bob Perks bob@bobperks.com
"Better is little with the fear of the LORD than great treasure and trouble therewith." - Proverbs 15:16
She is your neighbor. She lives in that house down the street where the grass gets a little tall in the summer. The sidewalks remain covered in snow a little longer than most of the homes in your area. During your early morning drive you'll see her outside in her housecoat and slippers sweeping the porch. Even on a warm summer day she wears a heavy sweater.
Every so often you see her walking down the street with her fold-up push cart heading toward the grocery store. For the most part she is invisible to the world. She has become a part of the scenery. She goes about her daily routines asking for nothing from the world. And the world responds by doing nothing for her.
The truth is she could die tomorrow and you most likely wouldn't even miss her.
"They're selling that old house down the street. You know, where that old lady lived."
"I saw a sign at the grocery store. They're having a tag sale. God, I bet there's some great old stuff in there. Let's make a point to go Saturday. We'll get there early for some real bargains."
By the end of that Saturday, when the last piece of her life has been sold, she will be but a memory for someone. Her worth to whatever family members laid claim to her property, will be in dollars and cents. She was just passing through this life, biding her time.
"How sad," you say to yourself.
How sad indeed. Sad that you never got to know her.
If you had taken the time to say "hello" one day you would have been blessed. Perhaps walking the down the street one early summer's eve you would have seen her sitting on the old oak rocking chair you got at a bargain price the day they auctioned off her life. That chair was hand made by her Father. He came to America with the skill of a craftsman and raised her and her seven siblings with his bare hands. Her Momma sat in that chair and breast fed every one of them. She made their clothes, baked bread everyday and tended to a large garden that they depended on for fresh vegetables.
This mysterious old lady was married once for what would have been a lifetime for most of us. Her husband died years ago, but not before he paid the last payment on the home you rummaged through on Saturday.
Children? They had seven kids and raised them on hand-me-downs and fresh garden vegetables. Two died at an early age, one in a car accident when he was just a teen. The others went on to college and scattered across the U.S. in search of big dollars, big homes and little respect for who gave them life and everything they had today.
Except for a few photographs that they split among themselves as tokens of the "good old days" they each received their portion of the estate and went on with their lives.
Some where in her possessions they found an envelope filled with cash. On it was written the words, "I couldn't spend your money." For they would send her checks to pay someone to cut the grass and shovel the sidewalk.
She did it herself.
She had no living relatives and very few friends to visit her. The ones still around were tucked away in nursing homes she couldn't get to visit.
Yes, how sad it is that you didn't take the time to say hello. You would have met an honest to goodness Angel here on earth.
I am guilty, too. You see, I wouldn't have met her either except one day while driving past her house I blew a tire and pulled by the side of the road. While struggling with the spare, she came out and offered me a fresh glass of homemade iced tea. I sat on her steps as she rocked in that chair and told me a lifetime of stories. She talked so long she apologized for she rarely got visitors. I assured her that she need not apologize at all. I was the one who was sorry that I had never stopped by sooner.
"You are an angel," I told her.
In her sweet, gentle voice she said, " We are each other's angels. We meet when it is time."
She died the other day and I sat on her front porch and watched her life fall apart.
The neighbors got some real bargains that day. But I found a treasure.
"I Believe in you!" Bob Perks bob@bobperks.com
"Better is little with the fear of the LORD than great treasure and trouble therewith." - Proverbs 15:16
Hands
Author: Unknown
An old man, probably some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the park bench. He didn't move, just sat with his head down staring at his hands. When I sat down beside him he didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if he was ok.
Finally, not really wanting to disturb him but wanting to check on him at the same time, I asked him if he was ok. He raised his head and looked at me and smiled.
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," he said in a clear strong voice.
"I didn't mean to disturb you, sir, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were ok?" I explained to him.
"Have you ever looked at your hands?", he asked. "I mean really looked at your
hands."
I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point he was making.
Then he smiled and related this story:
"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They dried the tears of my children and caressed the love of my life. They held my rifle and wiped my tears when I went off to war.
"They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote the letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse and walked my daughter down the aisle. Yet, they were strong and sure when I dug my buddy out of a foxhole and lifted a plow off of my best friends foot. They have held children, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body.
"They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.
"These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of my life. But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And He won't care about where these hands have been or what they have done. What He will care about is to whom these hands belong and how much He loves these hands. And with these hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ."
No doubt I will never look at my hands the same again. I never saw the old man again after I left the park that day but I will never forget him and the words he spoke.
When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and wife I think of the man in the park. I have a feeling he has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel his hands upon my face. Thank you, Father God, for hands.
"He becometh poor that dealeth with a slack hand: but the hand of the diligent maketh rich." -Proverbs 10:4
An old man, probably some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the park bench. He didn't move, just sat with his head down staring at his hands. When I sat down beside him he didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if he was ok.
Finally, not really wanting to disturb him but wanting to check on him at the same time, I asked him if he was ok. He raised his head and looked at me and smiled.
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," he said in a clear strong voice.
"I didn't mean to disturb you, sir, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were ok?" I explained to him.
"Have you ever looked at your hands?", he asked. "I mean really looked at your
hands."
I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point he was making.
Then he smiled and related this story:
"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They dried the tears of my children and caressed the love of my life. They held my rifle and wiped my tears when I went off to war.
"They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote the letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse and walked my daughter down the aisle. Yet, they were strong and sure when I dug my buddy out of a foxhole and lifted a plow off of my best friends foot. They have held children, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body.
"They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.
"These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of my life. But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And He won't care about where these hands have been or what they have done. What He will care about is to whom these hands belong and how much He loves these hands. And with these hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ."
No doubt I will never look at my hands the same again. I never saw the old man again after I left the park that day but I will never forget him and the words he spoke.
When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and wife I think of the man in the park. I have a feeling he has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel his hands upon my face. Thank you, Father God, for hands.
"He becometh poor that dealeth with a slack hand: but the hand of the diligent maketh rich." -Proverbs 10:4
Interesting Quotes
Michelangelo - "Genius is eternal patience."
"You kids today have it easy. When I was a kid everything was HUGE. My dad was nearly four times bigger than me. You couldn't even see the tops of counters... Then gradually everything became smaller until it was the manageable size it is today." - Bizarro (comic strip)
"You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it come true. You may have to work for it, however." - From Illusions by Richard Bach
"When the chips are down, and you're at the end of your rope, you need someone that you can count on. And that's what you'll find here... someone that will go all the way, no matter what. So don't lose hope. Come on over to our offices and you'll see that there's still heroes in this world. ... Is that it? Am I done?" --Allen Francis Doyle, from Angel—
"Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth." --Sherlock Holmes--
"I'm all in favor of keeping dangerous weapons out of the hands of fools. Let's start with typewriters." --Frank Lloyd Wright--
"Maybe this world is another planet's hell." --Aldous Huxley--
"In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends." --Martin Luther King Jr.--
"Knowledge speaks, but wisdom listens." --Jimi Hendrix--
"You must feel fear in your whole body right now and how powerless you are. Become strong. Crying over reality won't change anything. You understand don't you? Dying is not an easy thing to do." --Cho Hakkai, from Saiyuki--
"There's many a bestseller that could have been prevented by a good teacher." --Flannery O'Connor--
"Being a hero is about the shortest-lived profession on Earth." --Will Rogers--
"There's a time and a place for everything and I believe it's called fanfiction." --Joss Whedon--
"History will be kind to me for I intend to write it." --Winston Churchill--
"When the universe collapses and dies, there will be three survivors: Tyr Anasazi, the cockroaches, and Dylan Hunt trying to save the cockroaches." --Tyr Anasazi, from Andromeda--
"God gave men both a penis and a brain, but unfortunately not enough blood supply to run both at the same time." --Robin Williams--
"Dream as if you'll live forever. Live as if you'll die today." --James Dean--
"In any contest between power and patience, bet on patience." --W.B. Prescott--
"Fate protects fools, little children and ships named Enterprise." --Will Riker, from TNG--
"The writer's mind, when it works, is like Alice's rabbit, leading quickly, almost recklessly, to mysterious, yet attractive, places." --Roger Rosenblatt--
"Nothing is wrong with California that a rise in the ocean level wouldn't cure." --Ross MacDonald--
"You were working for her, Seska was working for them, was anyone on that ship working for me?" --Chakotay, from Voyager--
"The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who cannot read them." --Mark Twain--
"I prefer to follow the uncomplicated advice of Jiminy Cricket who said, 'Let your conscience be your guide.'"
--Willard Scott--
"Lying is a skill like any other, and if you want to maintain a level of excellence, you have to practice constantly." --Elim Garak, from DS9--
"Reality is something you rise above." --Liza Minnelli--
"Computers can sense fear." --Abby Scuito, from Navy NCIS--
"An intellectual is a person who has discovered something more interesting than sex." --Aldous Huxley--
"Life is precious, whether it's one or many." --Albert--
"Those are my principles. If you don't like them I have others." --Groucho Marx--
"Forgive your enemies, but never forget their names." --John F. Kennedy--
"Laws change depending on who's making them, but justice is justice." --Odo, from DS9--
"It's kind of fun to do the impossible." --Walt Disney--
"Creativity is allowing oneself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep." --Scott Adams--
"The difference between fiction and reality? Fiction has to make sense." --Tom Clancy--
"You know, if you think sort of sideways, sometimes you can actually figure out how to make things work."
--Neil Gaiman--
"Nine times out of ten a hero is someone who is tired enough, cold enough, and hungry enough not to give a damn. I don't give a damn!" --Hawkeye Pierce, from M*A*S*H--
"I don't want to achieve immortality through my work; I want to achieve immortality through not dying."
--Woody Allen--
"To know that we know what we know, and to know that we do not know what we do not know, that is true knowledge." --Nicholas Copernicus--
"A man can't be too careful in the choice of his enemies." --Oscar Wilde--
"Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever." --Napoleon Bonaparte--
"Whatever women must do they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult." --Charlotte Whitton--
"Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former." -- Albert Einstein--
"Oh, well, let's see: killed Simon and River, stole a bunch of medicine, and now the captain and Zoe are off springing the others got snatched by the Feds. Oh, and here they are now." --Kaylee Frye, from Firefly--
"If you meet Buddha, kill Buddha. If you meet your ancestor, kill your ancestor. Attached to nothing, bound by nothing. Live life for the sake of life itself." --Genjo Sanzo, from Saiyuki--
"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away." --Henry David Thoreau--
"Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup." --Unknown--
"Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die." --Robert Hepburn--
"There's no rest for the wicked, and the righteous don't need any." --Faye Bradford--
"You kids today have it easy. When I was a kid everything was HUGE. My dad was nearly four times bigger than me. You couldn't even see the tops of counters... Then gradually everything became smaller until it was the manageable size it is today." - Bizarro (comic strip)
"You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it come true. You may have to work for it, however." - From Illusions by Richard Bach
"When the chips are down, and you're at the end of your rope, you need someone that you can count on. And that's what you'll find here... someone that will go all the way, no matter what. So don't lose hope. Come on over to our offices and you'll see that there's still heroes in this world. ... Is that it? Am I done?" --Allen Francis Doyle, from Angel—
"Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth." --Sherlock Holmes--
"I'm all in favor of keeping dangerous weapons out of the hands of fools. Let's start with typewriters." --Frank Lloyd Wright--
"Maybe this world is another planet's hell." --Aldous Huxley--
"In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends." --Martin Luther King Jr.--
"Knowledge speaks, but wisdom listens." --Jimi Hendrix--
"You must feel fear in your whole body right now and how powerless you are. Become strong. Crying over reality won't change anything. You understand don't you? Dying is not an easy thing to do." --Cho Hakkai, from Saiyuki--
"There's many a bestseller that could have been prevented by a good teacher." --Flannery O'Connor--
"Being a hero is about the shortest-lived profession on Earth." --Will Rogers--
"There's a time and a place for everything and I believe it's called fanfiction." --Joss Whedon--
"History will be kind to me for I intend to write it." --Winston Churchill--
"When the universe collapses and dies, there will be three survivors: Tyr Anasazi, the cockroaches, and Dylan Hunt trying to save the cockroaches." --Tyr Anasazi, from Andromeda--
"God gave men both a penis and a brain, but unfortunately not enough blood supply to run both at the same time." --Robin Williams--
"Dream as if you'll live forever. Live as if you'll die today." --James Dean--
"In any contest between power and patience, bet on patience." --W.B. Prescott--
"Fate protects fools, little children and ships named Enterprise." --Will Riker, from TNG--
"The writer's mind, when it works, is like Alice's rabbit, leading quickly, almost recklessly, to mysterious, yet attractive, places." --Roger Rosenblatt--
"Nothing is wrong with California that a rise in the ocean level wouldn't cure." --Ross MacDonald--
"You were working for her, Seska was working for them, was anyone on that ship working for me?" --Chakotay, from Voyager--
"The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who cannot read them." --Mark Twain--
"I prefer to follow the uncomplicated advice of Jiminy Cricket who said, 'Let your conscience be your guide.'"
--Willard Scott--
"Lying is a skill like any other, and if you want to maintain a level of excellence, you have to practice constantly." --Elim Garak, from DS9--
"Reality is something you rise above." --Liza Minnelli--
"Computers can sense fear." --Abby Scuito, from Navy NCIS--
"An intellectual is a person who has discovered something more interesting than sex." --Aldous Huxley--
"Life is precious, whether it's one or many." --Albert--
"Those are my principles. If you don't like them I have others." --Groucho Marx--
"Forgive your enemies, but never forget their names." --John F. Kennedy--
"Laws change depending on who's making them, but justice is justice." --Odo, from DS9--
"It's kind of fun to do the impossible." --Walt Disney--
"Creativity is allowing oneself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep." --Scott Adams--
"The difference between fiction and reality? Fiction has to make sense." --Tom Clancy--
"You know, if you think sort of sideways, sometimes you can actually figure out how to make things work."
--Neil Gaiman--
"Nine times out of ten a hero is someone who is tired enough, cold enough, and hungry enough not to give a damn. I don't give a damn!" --Hawkeye Pierce, from M*A*S*H--
"I don't want to achieve immortality through my work; I want to achieve immortality through not dying."
--Woody Allen--
"To know that we know what we know, and to know that we do not know what we do not know, that is true knowledge." --Nicholas Copernicus--
"A man can't be too careful in the choice of his enemies." --Oscar Wilde--
"Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever." --Napoleon Bonaparte--
"Whatever women must do they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult." --Charlotte Whitton--
"Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former." -- Albert Einstein--
"Oh, well, let's see: killed Simon and River, stole a bunch of medicine, and now the captain and Zoe are off springing the others got snatched by the Feds. Oh, and here they are now." --Kaylee Frye, from Firefly--
"If you meet Buddha, kill Buddha. If you meet your ancestor, kill your ancestor. Attached to nothing, bound by nothing. Live life for the sake of life itself." --Genjo Sanzo, from Saiyuki--
"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away." --Henry David Thoreau--
"Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup." --Unknown--
"Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die." --Robert Hepburn--
"There's no rest for the wicked, and the righteous don't need any." --Faye Bradford--
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