Some fun from Ann at What the Tide Brings In:
A 1st Grade school teacher had twenty-six students in her class.
She presented each child in her classroom the 1st half of a well-
known proverb and asked them to come up with the remainder
of the proverb. It's hard to believe these were actually done by
first graders. Their insight may surprise you. While reading, keep
in mind that these are first-graders, 6-year-olds, because the last
one is a classic!
1. Don't change horses // until they stop running..
2. Strike while the // bug is close.
3. It's always darkest before //Daylight Saving Time.
4. Never underestimate the power of // termites.
5. You can lead a horse to water but // How?
6. Don't bite the hand that //looks dirty.
7. No news is // impossible
8. A miss is as good as a // Mr.
9. You can't teach an old dog new // Math
10. If you lie down with dogs, you'll // stink in the morning.
11. Love all, trust // Me.
12. The pen is mightier than the //pigs.
13. An idle mind is //the best way to relax.
14. Where there's smoke there's // pollution.
15. Happy the bride who // gets all the presents.
16. A penny saved is // not much.
17. Two's company, three's // the Musketeers.
18. Don't put off till tomorrow what // you put on to go to bed.
19. Laugh and the whole world laughs with you, cry and // You have to blow your nose.
20. There are none so blind as // Stevie Wonder.
21. Children should be seen and not //spanked or grounded.
22. If at first you don't succeed // get new batteries.
23. You get out of something only what you // See in the picture on the box
24. When the blind lead the blind // get out of the way.
25. A bird in the hand // is going to poop on you.
And the WINNER and last one!
26. Better late than // Pregnant.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Monday, May 5, 2008
Paul And Mimi
Paul looking handsome and Mimi looking like a deer in the headlights.
Paul, the Byzigenous Buddhapalian, who lives in Albuquerque, is working in New Orleans for a month or two, but poor baby, he is working such long hours, that he won't have much time to whoop it up and party in New Orleans. This weekend seemed to be the only time we could squeeze a meeting into his busy schedule. Since his birthday is on May 8, we made it an early birthday celebration, too.
Last night, Grandpère and I made our way through the highways and the byways of Jefferson Parish to pick up Paul to go to dinner, and we only made one wrong turn, finding his apartment rather uneventfully, since he had given us very good directions. After our last encounter with another vehicle by our vehicle, I said that Grandpère would not be driving my car in New Orleans. However, because of my knee problem, we had no choice but for him to drive, since it's my driving knee that is hurting. (My knee is, by the way, much better, although not back to normal, yet.)
Paul is TALL. I had no idea. His photo on his gravatar is ten years old, but he looks pretty much the same, except that he's a bit thinner in the old picture. We drove on to the restaurant, Andrea's, which serves northern Italian food, which was not far away with the only usual amount of bickering between GP and me. Either I don't give good directions, or GP doesn't follow directions well.
Paul is quite the gentleman, doing all the polite things that GP has long ceased to do, if he ever did them, (I can't remember) like opening car doors and holding the chair in the restaurant. Paul is handsome, charming, and funny. We had a lovely dinner with wine, dessert, and what I thought was good conversation. But once we'd dropped Paul off at his apartment, GP said I had talked too much and monopolized the conversation. At least, he didn't embarrass me by saying that in front of Paul. If I did that, Paul, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.
Paul is so classy. The proprietor and chef came to our table to greet us, and Paul spoke to him in Italian, and then they had a brief conversation in Italian. He's classy all around. How lovely to meet him in real life after our internet acquaintance. GP is still mystified by blogging and a little spooked by my hooking up with folks that I meet on the internet. Once we were in the restaurant, I asked GP, "OK, is this scary? Are you afraid of Paul?" He admitted that he was not, even though Paul is much bigger.
On the way home, GP and I sort of lost it with the bickering about driving and directions. There was poor Paul in the back seat, taking it all in. At one point, I turned to him and asked him, "Can you believe that this marriage has lasted 46 years? Can this marriage be saved?" I made him PROMISE not to reveal how much like the Bickersons we really are. We lost our way and had to do some doubling back to get Paul back to his place, but we finally made it there and dropped him off. He gave us directions for getting out of the huge apartment complex, but we found the gate he directed us to locked, so we circled and circled around trying to find our way out of the place, where all the buildings looked alike, and finally, finally we did. We were on our way back to Thibodaux, with only one wrong turn. Folks, I tell you, we are directionally challenged, pitiful, damned near hopeless. It's a wonder we have made our way through life.
I seem to have succeeded in making it better myself. Yay!
El Cinco De Mayo
Today is my beloved sister Gayle's birthday. She died two years ago on April 27. We celebrated her life in a memorial service on her birthday, May 5, 2006. After the service, we had a quiet gathering of friends and family. Later that evening, we had a not-so-quiet gathering, in other words, a party. Gayle loved parties, so it was fitting.
She also loved that she shared her birthday with the celebration of the Mexican victory over the French in the city of Puebla, which is, of course! an occasion for parties.
¡Viva México! ¡Viva El Cinco de Mayo!
¡Viva Gayle! ¡May we meet in the kingdom!
She also loved that she shared her birthday with the celebration of the Mexican victory over the French in the city of Puebla, which is, of course! an occasion for parties.
¡Viva México! ¡Viva El Cinco de Mayo!
¡Viva Gayle! ¡May we meet in the kingdom!
10,000 Dead, 3000 Missing - Myanmar
From Yahoo:
BANGKOK (Reuters) - Myanmar's military government has a provisional death toll of 10,000 from this weekend's devastating cyclone, with another 3,000 missing, a diplomat said on Monday after a briefing from Foreign Minister Nyan Win.
May those who have died rest in peace and rise in glory.
May God heal grieving hearts and minds and grant strength and courage to the living in the face of unimaginable disaster. Touch the hearts and minds of many of the peoples of the world to offer help and aid to the people of Myanmar.
Lord, have mercy.
Truly, I have no further words in the face of tragedy writ so large.
BANGKOK (Reuters) - Myanmar's military government has a provisional death toll of 10,000 from this weekend's devastating cyclone, with another 3,000 missing, a diplomat said on Monday after a briefing from Foreign Minister Nyan Win.
May those who have died rest in peace and rise in glory.
May God heal grieving hearts and minds and grant strength and courage to the living in the face of unimaginable disaster. Touch the hearts and minds of many of the peoples of the world to offer help and aid to the people of Myanmar.
Lord, have mercy.
Truly, I have no further words in the face of tragedy writ so large.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
A Truly Terrible Joke
From my dear friend Fran:
Two cops see a car weaving erratically on the road ahead, so they pursue and stop the auto. One of the cops walks over to the vehicle and sees a plain plastic sports bottle on the seat next to the driver. The driver just happens to be a priest - collar and all.
The cop says "Father - I need to see your license and registration." So the priest hands it over without comment. The cop then asks if the priest has been drinking, to which the priest replies "No!". Then the cop proceeds to ask the priest about the sports bottle on the passenger seat and the priest says that it is "just water." The cop doesn't believe him, but goes back to the patrol car to run the license and so forth.
When he finds no prior offenses, he and the other cop saunter back to Father's car. The other cop then asks to see the sports bottle, which the priest hands over without hesitation.
It is filled with wine!!
The cop looks at his partner and says "I told you that I was Catholic. This is what happens every time!"
Father says, "He's done it again! Halleluiah".
Thanks to Doorman-Priest, in the comments, for the revised punchline. What do you think?
Fran sez, "That is truly terrible - is it not Mimi????"
Mimi sez, "Fran it is - truly."
Two cops see a car weaving erratically on the road ahead, so they pursue and stop the auto. One of the cops walks over to the vehicle and sees a plain plastic sports bottle on the seat next to the driver. The driver just happens to be a priest - collar and all.
The cop says "Father - I need to see your license and registration." So the priest hands it over without comment. The cop then asks if the priest has been drinking, to which the priest replies "No!". Then the cop proceeds to ask the priest about the sports bottle on the passenger seat and the priest says that it is "just water." The cop doesn't believe him, but goes back to the patrol car to run the license and so forth.
When he finds no prior offenses, he and the other cop saunter back to Father's car. The other cop then asks to see the sports bottle, which the priest hands over without hesitation.
It is filled with wine!!
Father says, "He's done it again! Halleluiah".
Thanks to Doorman-Priest, in the comments, for the revised punchline. What do you think?
Fran sez, "That is truly terrible - is it not Mimi????"
Mimi sez, "Fran it is - truly."
Still Beating The Dead Horse
I know. Y'all are getting tired and bored with my blathering on about the whole Obama-Wright affair, which would not be a story at all, if they were two white men. But what I believe you're seeing is the response to a "scary black man". This may be my last post on the subject, but I make no promises.
From Charlie Reese at Lewrockwell.com, a libertarian website. Rockwell is a supporter of Ron Paul.
He [Wright] does not lower his eyes, bow and scrape, eat crow or humble pie, or apologize. If you insult him, he'll insult you back. I like the guy a whole lot. I disagree with him on some points, but I've come to like and admire him. He makes a better speech than most candidates, and certainly a better and more intelligent one than the so-called pundits.
....
Here was a distinguished man with an exceptionally great career watching his whole life being reduced to a few sound bites created by some political trash. He finally had enough. He was interviewed by Bill Moyers, and he made two great speeches, one at the National Press Club and one at the NAACP national convention. Now let's look at the media trick involved in this.
....
Now, in the first place, this was the old guilt-by-association gimmick – Sen. Obama, you either have to denounce this man or we will assume you agree with and condone all of his views. Bull. The Rev. Wright is not part of the Obama campaign, doesn't write his speeches and doesn't speak for him. Obama should have said: "Look, we have no connection except a personal one. I've told you I don't agree with all of his views, but I cherish his friendship, and if you don't like that, you can go to hell. And if you have any questions about him or his views, ask him, not me." Then he should have stuck to his campaign message and ignored any questions about the Rev. Wright.
Instead, Obama caved in to the media pressure. As a result, I think a lot more of Wright than I do of Obama. No one should ever let somebody else tell him who he is supposed to like and dislike, and whose views he is supposed to denounce. When people write off other human beings because of a difference of opinion, then you know those people are fanatics. Obama claimed to be offended that the Rev. Wright said Obama had to speak as a politician while he had to speak as a pastor. Then Obama did exactly what the Rev. Wright said he would do – he spoke like a politician.
Yes, I know that the Rev. Wright purchased property in an exclusive, predominantly white community (Imagine!) and is building a house that will cost $1.6 million, with help from the congregation of the church from which he's retiring, but what's that got to do with it? He won't be the first religious leader living in luxury, nor will he be the last.
UPDATE: Thanks to Jim at JindalWatch for the link to Reese's column. While you're there, you can read about the near escape of the Louisiana legislators from having to eat cheap meals in his "The Fear of Taco Bell still Looms Large" post.
UPDATE 2: And the beat goes on. Read Frank Rich's column in the New York Times.
From Charlie Reese at Lewrockwell.com, a libertarian website. Rockwell is a supporter of Ron Paul.
He [Wright] does not lower his eyes, bow and scrape, eat crow or humble pie, or apologize. If you insult him, he'll insult you back. I like the guy a whole lot. I disagree with him on some points, but I've come to like and admire him. He makes a better speech than most candidates, and certainly a better and more intelligent one than the so-called pundits.
....
Here was a distinguished man with an exceptionally great career watching his whole life being reduced to a few sound bites created by some political trash. He finally had enough. He was interviewed by Bill Moyers, and he made two great speeches, one at the National Press Club and one at the NAACP national convention. Now let's look at the media trick involved in this.
....
Now, in the first place, this was the old guilt-by-association gimmick – Sen. Obama, you either have to denounce this man or we will assume you agree with and condone all of his views. Bull. The Rev. Wright is not part of the Obama campaign, doesn't write his speeches and doesn't speak for him. Obama should have said: "Look, we have no connection except a personal one. I've told you I don't agree with all of his views, but I cherish his friendship, and if you don't like that, you can go to hell. And if you have any questions about him or his views, ask him, not me." Then he should have stuck to his campaign message and ignored any questions about the Rev. Wright.
Instead, Obama caved in to the media pressure. As a result, I think a lot more of Wright than I do of Obama. No one should ever let somebody else tell him who he is supposed to like and dislike, and whose views he is supposed to denounce. When people write off other human beings because of a difference of opinion, then you know those people are fanatics. Obama claimed to be offended that the Rev. Wright said Obama had to speak as a politician while he had to speak as a pastor. Then Obama did exactly what the Rev. Wright said he would do – he spoke like a politician.
Yes, I know that the Rev. Wright purchased property in an exclusive, predominantly white community (Imagine!) and is building a house that will cost $1.6 million, with help from the congregation of the church from which he's retiring, but what's that got to do with it? He won't be the first religious leader living in luxury, nor will he be the last.
UPDATE: Thanks to Jim at JindalWatch for the link to Reese's column. While you're there, you can read about the near escape of the Louisiana legislators from having to eat cheap meals in his "The Fear of Taco Bell still Looms Large" post.
UPDATE 2: And the beat goes on. Read Frank Rich's column in the New York Times.
Wake Me Up
A man and his wife were having some problems at home and were giving each other the silent treatment. Suddenly, the man realized that the next day, he would need his wife to wake him at 5:00 AM for an early morning business flight. Not wanting to be the first to break the silence (and LOSE), he wrote on a piece of paper, "Please wake me at 5:00 AM." He left it where he knew she would find it.
The next morning, the man woke up, only to discover it was 9:00 AM and he had missed his flight. Furious, he was about to go and see why his wife hadn't wakened him, when he noticed a piece of paper by the bed. The paper said, "It is 5:00 AM. Wake up."
Men are not equipped for these kinds of contests.
Doug strikes again.
The next morning, the man woke up, only to discover it was 9:00 AM and he had missed his flight. Furious, he was about to go and see why his wife hadn't wakened him, when he noticed a piece of paper by the bed. The paper said, "It is 5:00 AM. Wake up."
Men are not equipped for these kinds of contests.
Doug strikes again.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Moyers On Wright - A Voice Of Sanity
From Bill Moyers' Journal:
....Many of you have asked for some rational explanation for Wright's transition from reasonable conversation to shocking anger at the National Press Club. A psychologist might pull back some of the layers and see this complicated man more clearly, but I'm not a psychologist. Many black preachers I've known — scholarly, smart, and gentle in person — uncorked fire and brimstone in the pulpit. Of course I've known many white preachers like that, too.
But where I grew up in the south, before the civil rights movement, the pulpit was a safe place for black men to express anger for which they would have been punished anywhere else; a safe place for the fierce thunder of dignity denied, justice delayed. I think I would have been angry if my ancestors had been transported thousands of miles in the hellish hole of a slave ship, then sold at auction, humiliated, whipped, and lynched. Or if my great-great grandfather had been but three-fifths of a person in a constitution that proclaimed, "We the people." Or if my own parents had been subjected to the racial vitriol of Jim Crow, Strom Thurmond, Bull Connor, and Jesse Helms. Even so, the anger of black preachers I've known and heard about and reported on was, for them, very personal and cathartic.
....
But in this multimedia age the pulpit isn't only available on Sunday mornings. There's round the clock media — the beast whose hunger is never satisfied, especially for the fast food with emotional content. So the preacher starts with rational discussion and after much prodding throws more and more gasoline on the fire that will eventually consume everything it touches. He had help — people who for their own reasons set out to conflate the man in the pulpit who wasn't running for president with the man in the pew who was.
Behold the double standard: John McCain sought out the endorsement of John Hagee, the war-mongering Catholic-bashing Texas preacher who said the people of New Orleans got what they deserved for their sins. But no one suggests McCain shares Hagee's delusions, or thinks AIDS is God's punishment for homosexuality. Pat Robertson called for the assassination of a foreign head of state and asked God to remove Supreme Court justices, yet he remains a force in the Republican religious right. After 9/11 Jerry Falwell said the attack was God's judgment on America for having been driven out of our schools and the public square, but when McCain goes after the endorsement of the preacher he once condemned as an agent of intolerance, the press gives him a pass.
....
Which means it is all about race, isn't it? Wright's offensive opinions and inflammatory appearances are judged differently. He doesn't fire a shot in anger, put a noose around anyone's neck, call for insurrection, or plant a bomb in a church with children in Sunday school. What he does is to speak his mind in a language and style that unsettle some people, and says some things so outlandish and ill-advised that he finally leaves Obama no choice but to end their friendship. We are often exposed to the corroding acid of the politics of personal destruction, but I've never seen anything like this, this wrenching break between pastor and parishioner before our very eyes. Both men no doubt will carry the grief to their graves. All the rest of us should hang our heads in shame for letting it come to this in America, where the gluttony of the non-stop media grinder consumes us all and prevents an honest conversation on race. It is the price we are paying for failing to heed the great historian Jacob Burckhardt, who said "beware the terrible simplifiers".
I grew up in that same south in the same period as Moyers. He writes the truth. I've quoted nearly the entire transcript, but I beg you to read the rest or watch the video here. As I've said before, Bill Moyers is national treasure, and I don't know if we will see his likes again in the media, probably not in my lifetime.
For another voice of sanity in the midst of the madess, I refer you once again to Rmj at Adventus, who can't let this go any more than I can let it go.
....Many of you have asked for some rational explanation for Wright's transition from reasonable conversation to shocking anger at the National Press Club. A psychologist might pull back some of the layers and see this complicated man more clearly, but I'm not a psychologist. Many black preachers I've known — scholarly, smart, and gentle in person — uncorked fire and brimstone in the pulpit. Of course I've known many white preachers like that, too.
But where I grew up in the south, before the civil rights movement, the pulpit was a safe place for black men to express anger for which they would have been punished anywhere else; a safe place for the fierce thunder of dignity denied, justice delayed. I think I would have been angry if my ancestors had been transported thousands of miles in the hellish hole of a slave ship, then sold at auction, humiliated, whipped, and lynched. Or if my great-great grandfather had been but three-fifths of a person in a constitution that proclaimed, "We the people." Or if my own parents had been subjected to the racial vitriol of Jim Crow, Strom Thurmond, Bull Connor, and Jesse Helms. Even so, the anger of black preachers I've known and heard about and reported on was, for them, very personal and cathartic.
....
But in this multimedia age the pulpit isn't only available on Sunday mornings. There's round the clock media — the beast whose hunger is never satisfied, especially for the fast food with emotional content. So the preacher starts with rational discussion and after much prodding throws more and more gasoline on the fire that will eventually consume everything it touches. He had help — people who for their own reasons set out to conflate the man in the pulpit who wasn't running for president with the man in the pew who was.
Behold the double standard: John McCain sought out the endorsement of John Hagee, the war-mongering Catholic-bashing Texas preacher who said the people of New Orleans got what they deserved for their sins. But no one suggests McCain shares Hagee's delusions, or thinks AIDS is God's punishment for homosexuality. Pat Robertson called for the assassination of a foreign head of state and asked God to remove Supreme Court justices, yet he remains a force in the Republican religious right. After 9/11 Jerry Falwell said the attack was God's judgment on America for having been driven out of our schools and the public square, but when McCain goes after the endorsement of the preacher he once condemned as an agent of intolerance, the press gives him a pass.
....
Which means it is all about race, isn't it? Wright's offensive opinions and inflammatory appearances are judged differently. He doesn't fire a shot in anger, put a noose around anyone's neck, call for insurrection, or plant a bomb in a church with children in Sunday school. What he does is to speak his mind in a language and style that unsettle some people, and says some things so outlandish and ill-advised that he finally leaves Obama no choice but to end their friendship. We are often exposed to the corroding acid of the politics of personal destruction, but I've never seen anything like this, this wrenching break between pastor and parishioner before our very eyes. Both men no doubt will carry the grief to their graves. All the rest of us should hang our heads in shame for letting it come to this in America, where the gluttony of the non-stop media grinder consumes us all and prevents an honest conversation on race. It is the price we are paying for failing to heed the great historian Jacob Burckhardt, who said "beware the terrible simplifiers".
I grew up in that same south in the same period as Moyers. He writes the truth. I've quoted nearly the entire transcript, but I beg you to read the rest or watch the video here. As I've said before, Bill Moyers is national treasure, and I don't know if we will see his likes again in the media, probably not in my lifetime.
For another voice of sanity in the midst of the madess, I refer you once again to Rmj at Adventus, who can't let this go any more than I can let it go.
You'll Never Know - Alice Faye
MadPriest has a send-in-your-song contest to see which of the favorite love songs of his readers will win a play from his vast collection of recordings - 50,000 songs, he says. I have more than one favorite love song, but I sent in "You'll Never Know", sung by Alice Faye (not Frank Sinatra or Dick Haynes) as one of my favorites. Now he's in pain and can't post often, and who knows when he will get back to the contest, and, in any case, I may not win a place of honor. Alice sang the song in a movie, "Hello, Frisco, Hello" in 1943. I saw the film at the tender age of nine, but I was already a full-blown romantic. I loved the song at the time, and I have loved it ever since. Alice, with her lovely and sexy alto voice, sings the song beautifully.
Since I was feeling impatient waiting for MadPriest, I searched for and found the movie clip of her singing the song on YouTube. Praise be! I even remembered that in the movie, she sang the song on the phone. John Payne starred opposite her in the film.
Alice married Phil Harris, the band leader in 1941, and their marriage lasted for 54 years, until Phil died. They had two children named appropriately, Alice, Jr and Phyllis. The word was that Phil liked his booze, and he joked about it himself. I don't know how much substance there was to the story, but it didn't affect his marriage nor his longevity. Alice and Phil both loved New Orleans, which, of course, endeared them to me. Can you believe that Phil's original first name was Wonga? Maybe that was the source of his comedic side.
Here's the link to her bio and to Phil's.
"China Prepares for the Olympics :>)"
I love it.
I hope you guys like to share.
I hope we all like to share.
From Doug, who says as far as he knows, these are real.
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