Russia and Georgia and Lola

I've been doing a lot studying up on this conflict between Russia and Georgia.

If I understand things correctly and according to some very reliable bullshit, Russia invaded Georgia because Georgian troops were in South Ossetia kissing babies, helping little old ladies across the street, and handing out sandwiches to the homeless . . . and NOT massacring people.

With that in mind, and in light of these completely one sided atrocities committed by Russian troops, I think the best strategy the US should take is to NOT go to the same meetings Russia will be attending. After all, Russia's standing in the world has been substantially besmirched because they invaded another country, and who wants to sit at the same table with a nation whose standing in the world has been substantially besmirched because they invaded another country? I mean other than the nations that have to sit down at meetings with us . . . at the same table. I wonder if the other nations are in lock-step with Bush because they want to be . . . or have to be? Or perhaps they might be thinking that this is just one more gigantic example of Bush’s gross incompetence.


On the surface, things aren't always what they appear to be.

I leave you with this:

Brittany and Chris

Im not much at a Brittany fan, in fact, I'm not a fan at all, however, I hold no illusions as to what all the coverage on her was about. It was the god-damned corporate media in search of the bottom line. I like Chris Crocker tho, cuz he irritates people . . . especially those with a conservative bent. The following is a video of Brittany defending Chris . . . who, after all, was only defending Brittany . . . on a Tues . . . I think.

I personally believe / The Best is Yet to Come

I have nothing to say, and a lot of time to say it. Remember when Miss Teen South Carolina was asked a question about 1/5 of all Americans not being able to find the US of America on a map, and what her solution to that problem would be?

Well, a few minutes ago I ran into this.





I leave you with this

Rickey Lee Jones / One of my Favorites

So unexpected . . . so beautiful.

I ran across this the other day:

Keep looking through the same window pane

The first time I heard this song was when I saw the movie, Collateral. I didn't have to listen to it again to realize how much I liked it

I leave you with this song from the movie:




I like some of Tom Cruise's movies, and Collateral is one of them. Amazing!

I’ll have a Schlitz and some Dentyne / Her hair is Harlow gold

I leave you with this:

Fredo can't find any work? / Ah, my mind's such a sweet thing.

It saddens me to learn that Fredo can't find a job. I wonder if it has anything to do with the following.



The man just doesn't interview well. And far be it for me to judge anyone's eating habits, but it sure seems like cannibalism should be an automatic disqualification for just about any job out there. However, I don't see cannibalism as something that should get in the way of the tolerance!

Damn my open-minded ways!





I leave you with this:

Glory!!! / but I've been to Oklahoma

IT'S A MIRACLE!!!!!



I leave you with something a bit more secular:

For what it's worth / Peter Fetchner / What's the point?

Peter Fechter (January 14, 1944 – August 17, 1962) was a bricklayer from East Berlin, who at the age of eighteen became one of the first victims of the Berlin Wall's border guards. About one year after the construction of the wall, Fechter attempted to flee from the GDR (German Democratic Republic)together with hisfriend Helmut Kulbeik. The plan was to hide in a carpenter's workshop near the wall in Zimmerstrasse and, after observing the border guards from there, to jump out of a window into the so-called death-strip (a strip running between the main wall and a parallel fence which they had recently started to construct), run across it, and climb over the two metre (6.5 ft) wall topped with barbed wire into the Kreuzberg district of West Berlin near Checkpoint Charlie. While both reached the wall, guards fired at them. Although Kulbeik succeeded in crossing the wall, Fechter, still on the wall, was shot in the pelvis in plain view of hundreds of witnesses. He fell back into the death-strip on the Eastern side, where he remained in view of Western onlookers, including journalists. Despite his screams, he received no medical assistance either from the East or the West side. He bled to death after about an hour. My source is Wikipedia.

For what it's worth, the song I posted was written in 1967 as a protest song against the Viet Nam war, and while Peter died 5 years earlier in East Germany, it was all part of the same fucked up landscape. I'm afraid we haven't made much progress since then. The name of the song is actually "For What It's Worth" by Buffalo Springfield
I saved this last 8/27/07 on my pc. I'm not really sure why, but something led me to this last August. Anyway, it's late at night now, and since I tend to be a bit less "bubbly" late at night/early in the am, here it is. Somehow knowing stuff like this helps me keep my bubble a bit more centered. I don't dwell on it, it's just stuff I know. It's a bit strange, but that's how I operate. You should see some of the other stuff I have saved on my hard drive. Perhaps at a later date you will. It's nothing absolutely disgusting and totally sick, it's just stuff most people wouldn't bother to find out [let alone keep]. Peter Fetchner laid there moaning and simply bled to death because of view points at odds with each other. So fucking pointless.
The current administration in Washington seems to have a "Just to be safe, let's torture everyone." attitude, so ugly behavior isn't exclusive to everyone but Americans. Just because our policies are probably less ugly than the policies of many many other governments, that doesn't make it right. So fucking dangerous.
But tomorrow is a new day and while praising God for all His beautiful pageantry is one option to make us feel better, I opt to just get a good night sleep instead. It's far easier [no slaughtering animals or entire civilizations] and dogma-free.

"Isn't it good, Norwegian wood?"/ Interview DOs and DON'Ts

I was going to do a piece on effective interviews, but then I asked myself, "What the fuck do I care about interviews?" Well, I don't. The following is shamelessly hilarious. One or both of these clips are fake. If they are both fake, at least one of these is pure genius. The lady blowing her nose is a nice touch.







I leave you with this:

You re-arrange me till I'm sane. / "Well, I can only speculate as to reasons why . . . "

This is one of my favorite scenes from one of my very favorite movies. When I first saw this I could almost hear the wheels in my head turning. I've never experienced a movie so intense, so funny, so depressing, so everything, including the music . . . especially the music. I realized that we're all sane or we're all bat-shit crazy . . . some more than others. I wish this clip was a bit longer, but it's long enough. Actually, there are so many great scenes from this movie, that they are all my favorite.









I leave you with this:

Then peace will guide the planets. And love will steer the stars / Damn . . . I'm what?

I ran across this years ago and loved it. Your Horoscope . . . a second opinion

Your Horoscope
Aquarius–> Jan. 20-Feb 18 You have an inventive mind and are inclined to be progressive. You lie a great deal. You make the same mistakes repeatedly because you are stupid. Everyone thinks you’re a fucking jerk.
Pisces–>Feb.19-Mar. 20 You are a pioneer type and think most people are dick-heads. You are quick to reprimand, impatient and scornful of advice. You do nothing but piss-off everyone you come in contact with. You are a prick.
Aries–>Mar. 21-Apr.19 You have a wild imagination and often think you are being followed by the FBI and CIA. You have minor influence on you friends and people resent you for flaunting your power. You lack self confidence and are a general dip-shit.
Taurus–>Apr. 20-May 20 You are practical and persistent. You have a dogged determination and work like hell. Most people think you’re stubborn and bull-headed. You are nothing but a goddamned communist.
Gemini–>May 21-June 20 You are a quick and intelligent thinker. People like you because you are bisexual. You are inclined to expect too much for too little. This means you are a cheap bastard. Gemini’s are notorious for thriving on incest.
Cancer–>June 22-July 22 You are sympathetic and understanding to other people’s problems, which makes you a sucker. You are always putting things off. That is why you will always be on welfare and won’t be worth a shit. Everyone in prison is a Cancer
Leo–>July 23-Aug.22 You consider yourself a born leader. Others think you are an idiot. Most Leo’s are bullies. You are vain and cannot tolerate criticism. Your arrogance is disgusting. Leo people are thieving mother-fuckers and enjoy masturbation more than sex.
Virgo–>Aug, 23-Sept. 22 You are the logical type and hate disorder. Your shit-picking attitude is sickening to your friends and co-workers. You are cold, unemotional, and often fall asleep while fucking. Virgo’s make good bus drivers and pimps.
Libra–>Sept.23-Oct. 21 You are the artistic type and have difficult time dealing with reality. If you are male, you are queer. Chances for employment and monetary gain are nil. Most Libra women are whores. All Libra’s die of venereal disease.
Scorpio–>Oct.24-Nov.21 The worst of the lot. You are a shrewd in business and cannot be trusted. You shall achieve the pinnacle of success because of your lack of ethics. You are a perfect son-of-a-bitch. Most Scorpios are murdered.
Sagittarius–>Nov.22-Dec.21 You are optimistic and enthusiastic. You have a reckless tendency to rely on luck since you have no talent.. The majority of Sagitarians are drunks. You are a worthless piece of shit.
Capricorn–>Dec.22-Jan.19 You are conservative and afraid of risk. You are basically a chicken-shit. There has never been a Capricorn of any importance.. You should kill yourself








I leave you with this:

I'm in the high-fidelity first class traveling set/BULLSHIT

I read a story about the pentagon awarding a 22-year-old a $300 million contract to provide ammunition to Afghanistan. The ammo he procurred was from old Soviet stockpiles located throughout the old eastern bloc . . . in other words . . . it was mostly unusable. I assume that, at best, this gentlemen is no more than only slightly more qualified than I am, so it gives me great hope knowing that even the little guy, given the right motivation, can feed at the same trough as the big boys [Blackwater, Halliburton, et al]. Truly . . . the world is my oyster.

I leave you with this:

Four Norwegian guys

I think this is a stunning rendition of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah". LOL>> Not only that, but after watching this video for the 100th/200th time, I finally noticed that there's a guy sitting there for no apparent reason.

Beware of soft shoe shufflers / Dancing down the sidewalks / Beware of Maya

I've always liked this song by [former Beatle] George Harrison. And even though I'm an athiest, and I feel the need to discuss what "It's all part of God's beautiful pageantry" can possibly mean to a rational person, I won't. I think George was heavily influenced by Hinduism and "Maya" is some type of diety. I read somewhere about Maya and an elephant being somehow connected. This song is also done by Leon Russell on his "Shelter People" album. I like his version as well. George died and you'll read alot of things on this video that praise his life. I liked George Harrison, but I never had deep thoughts about him. So what you read isn't necessarily a reflection on my opinions. I liked the guy and I like song. Both versions are posted here.


Ain't nothing like the Hindu touch on Easter Sunday, eh?






Lyrics:
Watch out now, take care
Beware of falling swingers
Dropping all around you
The pain that often mingles
In your fingertips
Beware of darkness

Watch out now, take care
Beware of the thoughts that linger
Winding up inside your head
The hopelessness around you
In the dead of night

Beware of sadness
It can hit you
It can hurt you
Make you sore and what is more
That is not what you are here for

Watch out now, take care
Beware of soft shoe shufflers
Dancing down the sidewalks
As each unconscious sufferer
Wanders aimlessly
Beware of Maya

Watch out now, take care
Beware of greedy leaders
They take you where you should not go
While Weeping Atlas Cedars
They just want to grow, grow and grow
Beware of darkness (beware of darkness)






WARNING

To salad dressing lovers of all stripes. Although it looks identical, it tastes different, it tastes less tangy. It has less zip to it.

Beware of Mayo.

Toking with Lawrence Welk / Velvet Underground

Velvet Underground




One Toke



Rumor had it that Myron was coughing because his accordian was actually a bong, and he had hit it too hard.

Are you optimistic? / But you knifed me in your dirty filthy basement

I have a class reunion coming up this summer. "School's Out" by Alice Cooper pretty much summed up my loving affection for my old high school days. But, instead of having that for a class song [it was never even considered] we chose a rather heavy song by Chicago called "Dialogue", which was mostly shredded by our concert choir. Why do the directors of school choirs, glee clubs or whatever, think they have to take a reasonably decent class song, torture it and VOILA . . . turn it into a GOD DAMN POLKA.

Several years ago I listened to a *Class Song* version of "Imagine". It was so hideous and depressing that I had all I could do to just to "imagine" NOT opening up a vein.

If you’re going to fiddle around with something, Fiddle around with anything by Shakespeare. I STILL have NO idea what that fucker was talking about. Although I do love the word “ZOUNDS.”



Pieces of of the song "Dialogue"

Are you optimistic . . .

Don't you ever see the starvation in the city where you live
All the needless hunger all the needless pain?

Thank you for the talk, you know you really eased my mind
I was troubled by the shapes of things to come

Part II

We can make it happen
We can change the world now
We can save the children
We can make it better
We can make it happen
We can save the children
We can make it happen

It's an alright song, a bit weighty, but alright. Hell . . . I remember some dim-bulb in my class wanted "Indiana Wants Me" for our class song. I can remember being a bit bewildered by that choice because . . . WE LIVED IN IOWA ! I guess I should be thankful that he didn't want the song, "Hooray for Hazel" to sum up our high school years?



Pieces of "School’s Out"

Well, we got no choice
All the girls and boys
Makin' all that noise
'Cause they found new toys

School's out for summer
School's out forever
School's been blown to pieces

Well, we got no class
And we got no principles
And we got no innocence
We can't even think of a word that rhymes

School's out for summer
School's out forever
School's out with fever
School's out completely

You have to remember . . . back then we only THOUGHT about school violence, never did it occur to anyone [well, at least not me] to actually blow up something that large. Although a friend and I did stuff firecrackers in the mouths of carp and blew them to smithereens, but only because we had just recently sold our souls to Satan, who in turn commanded us to blow shit up. In our case we blew up carp.
Plus, on page 16, section 7-9, article three in the Male Adolescent Handbook [MAH] gave us, adolescent males, explicit instructions about blowing ship up [BSU]. I had no idea that selling my soul to Satan and some, possibly most, of the ideas in the MAH would coalesce so nicely. Hmmmmm

To escape being called a "Flaming Nancy", it is the duty/sacred right of all teen-age males to mindlessly blow shit up [BSU]. [BingSU] will be defined as, anything [when looking back 25 years from the date of the you BSU that pertains to the actual annihilation of the object and/or thing being blown up. Attention is paid to the actual explosion, not the object being blown up. If you focus on the "thing" you blew up and it seems silly, and/or stoopid, and/or immature, and/or disgusting, you’re thinking WAY too much. Blowing up shit, not the shit you blew up is what's important. This is a very crucial distinction, because incorrect thinking about this can lead to self esteem issues later in life, assuming, of course, you were not already drowning in low self esteem when you blew that shit up . . . 25 years ago.

Looking back, it seems kind of ironic that we performed this adolescent confirmation/Satanic ritual at the site of, what used to be called, The Girl Scout Cabin [TGSC]. I assumed that the cabin had burned down years earlier, because all that remained was a rather phallic looking chimney.

I must also [enthusiastically?] confess to breaking out a window in back of the school, twice. I never got caught because I never told anyone I was going to do it, and after I did it I never told anyone that it was me that did it. Even back then I understood what it took to get away with doing shit like that. I finally fessed up some 20 years later. I'm not sure why . . . because it certainly wasn't a burning issue in anyone's mind. I guess I confessed because it gave me a sense of glorious accomplishment during an rather inglorious time in my life.

Our class motto was some gooey nonsense about not wanting to lead or follow, but only wanting to be a friend of the person we didn't want to lead or follow. Now THAT bilge-water was way over the top. There were no Goo-Free Zones [GFZ] set up, so we [the few] suffered in silence. I remember thinking at the time that it made far more sense if that fellow student, instead of walking ahead of me, instead of walking behind me, instead of walking beside me, or instead of juggling bowling pins on a uni-bicycle or whatever the hell it was he's was doing next to me, that it might be best if he parked his Bozo ass somewhere far far away from me, because if he was anything like me, he had nothing substantive to offer except more meaningless Bozo bullshit.



OK . . . now . . . since "We can make it happen" was a tad weighty, and "School's been blown to pieces" conjurred up images of BURNING/searing FLESH. Of course in today's world, if you wanted that for a class song, a SWAT team, like magic, would instantly drop out of the sky, appear on your front porch and frag your sorry ass. Or, if you were lucky and lived in a small town, they might only just try out their cool new Homeland Security Bullhorn *CNHSB* What would have been a good class song? Well . . . since there is no such thing as a good class song that would passs scrutiny, or a song free of the choir directors sticky tentacles, I decided on this toe-tapper.

I've printed the lyrics for those who wish to sing along. Just follow the bouncing ball [real or imagined].

And a one and a two . . .





Well, we all need someone we can lean on
And if you want it, you can lean on me
Yeah, we all need someone we can lean on
And if you want it, you can lean on me
She said, "My breasts, they will always be open
Baby, you can rest your weary head right on me
And there will always be a space in my parking lot
When you need a little coke and sympathy"
Yeah, we all need someone we can dream on
And if you want it, baby, well you can dream on me
Yeah, we all need someone we can cream on
And if you want to, well you can cream on me
I was dreaming of a steel guitar engagement
When you drunk my health in scented jasmine tea
But you knifed me in my dirty filthy basement
With that jaded, faded, junky nurse
Oh what pleasant company
We all need someone we can feed on
And if you want it, well you can feed on me
Take my arm, take my leg, oh baby don't you take my head
Yeah, we all need someone we can bleed on
Yeah, and if you want it, baby, well you can bleed on me
Yeah, we all need someone we can bleed on
Yeah, yeah, and if you want it, baby, why don'cha bleed on me
All over
Ahh, get it on rider, get it on rider , get it on rider
You can bleed all over me
Get it on rider , get it on rider, get it on rider
You can cum all over me.

If I had to do it over again, I wouldn't. But if I absolutely had to, I still wouldn't.

One last comment:

Just between you and me, Alice Cooper got one thing wrong. He said "and we got no innocence." Well . . . actually, I had quite a bit . . . and I miss it.

"Looks like it's me and you again tonite" / a doozy, a lulu, a humdinger

Over the weeks many of my fans, one at a time, have said "Musk, it would be quite the spiritual experience for me if you told me a parable." After looking up suitable synonyms for "parable" at thesaurus.com and arriving at words meaning the same thing or at least somewhat close to the same thing, that I'm mostly in tune with [see list], I'll gladly do one of the following synonyms for my legions of fans at a later date, AFTER I find a staff [12 would be great, but not required], another staff [big wooden stick], a ratty old bathrobe, after I quit clipping my toenails, and washing my hair, and brushing my teeth. Like John the Baptist and/or a smelly old ape, I will inspire the uninspired.*




Synonyms:

- allegory, apologue,
- bestiary, bunk*,
- crock,
- fabrication, fairy story, fairy tale, falsehood,
- fantasy, fib, fiction, figment,
- fish story,
- hogwash,
- invention,
- legend, lie,
- myth,
- old chestnut, old saw,
- parable,
- romance,
- tale, tall
- story,
- untruth,
- white lie, whopper,
- yarn
Antonyms: fact, history

http://thesaurus.reference.com/browse/parable
Roget's New Millennium™ Thesaurus -

I leave you with this immoral song about self gratification:





* For reasons not apparent to me, God prefers enlightening odious little hoseheads with bad breath, bad teeth, bad hair, and long toenails

impedimenta / And when he passes, each boy she passes goes ahhh

Because of the stress of past few days I've come to realize that things are mostly just things that retard progress. The memory isn't the "thing", the memory is the feelings, the thoughts, the circumstances, the events surrounding the thing. If the thing is gone, the memories remain the same. As far as "thoughts" impeding happinesss . . . well . . . have fun.

"[Also, in my spare time,] I like to repeat silly cliches and imagine myself as sophisticated."


I leave you with this:

"I don't hear a word they're saying"/ I spent a lovely day talking to tech support

I spent a huge chunk of today talking to tech support. I wish they'd spend a bit more time addressing the problem and a lot less time kissing my ass. Im convinced there's a hell, and it's nickname is "redundancy".



I leave you with this:


"Generally you don't see that kind of behavior in a major appliance."

_____Ghostbusters



and this:

"Little red wagon, little red bike . . . "

For some reason I had it my head to do one post a day. There's way too many great lines and great songs for "one a day," so I'm switching gears a bit.


If they take away the right to say “fuck,” they take away the right to say “fuck you.”

__Lenny Bruce




I leave you with this

Tell her to make me a cambric shirt . . .

Happy St Patrick's Day


I leave you with this:

In winter 1963, it felt like the world would freeze . . .

The War Prayer
by Mark Twain

It was a time of great and exalting excitement. The country was up in arms, the war was on, in every breast burned the holy fire of patriotism; the drums were beating, the bands playing, the toy pistols popping, the bunched firecrackers hissing and spluttering; on every hand and far down the receding and fading spread of roofs and balconies a fluttering wilderness of flags flashed in the sun; daily the young volunteers marched down the wide avenue gay and fine in their new uniforms, the proud fathers and mothers and sisters and sweethearts cheering them with voices choked with happy emotion as they swung by; nightly the packed mass meetings listened, panting, to patriot oratory which stirred the deepest deeps of their hearts, and which they interrupted at briefest intervals with cyclones of applause, the tears running down their cheeks the while; in the churches the pastors preached devotion to flag and country, and invoked the God of Battles beseeching His aid in our good cause in outpourings of fervid eloquence which moved every listener. It was indeed a glad and gracious time, and the half dozen rash spirits that ventured to disapprove of the war and cast a doubt upon its righteousness straightway got such a stern and angry warning that for their personal safety's sake they quickly shrank out of sight and offended no more in that way.
Sunday morning came -- next day the battalions would leave for the front; the church was filled; the volunteers were there, their young faces alight with martial dreams -- visions of the stern advance, the gathering momentum, the rushing charge, the flashing sabers, the flight of the foe, the tumult, the enveloping smoke, the fierce pursuit, the surrender! Then home from the war, bronzed heroes, welcomed, adored, submerged in golden seas of glory! With the volunteers sat their dear ones, proud, happy, and envied by the neighbors and friends who had no sons and brothers to send forth to the field of honor, there to win for the flag, or, failing, die the noblest of noble deaths. The service proceeded; a war chapter from the Old Testament was read; the first prayer was said; it was followed by an organ burst that shook the building, and with one impulse the house rose, with glowing eyes and beating hearts, and poured out that tremendous invocation
God the all-terrible! Thou who ordainest! Thunder thy clarion and lightning thy sword!
Then came the "long" prayer. None could remember the like of it for passionate pleading and moving and beautiful language. The burden of its supplication was, that an ever-merciful and benignant Father of us all would watch over our noble young soldiers, and aid, comfort, and encourage them in their patriotic work; bless them, shield them in the day of battle and the hour of peril, bear them in His mighty hand, make them strong and confident, invincible in the bloody onset; help them to crush the foe, grant to them and to their flag and country imperishable honor and glory --
An aged stranger entered and moved with slow and noiseless step up the main aisle, his eyes fixed upon the minister, his long body clothed in a robe that reached to his feet, his head bare, his white hair descending in a frothy cataract to his shoulders, his seamy face unnaturally pale, pale even to ghastliness. With all eyes following him and wondering, he made his silent way; without pausing, he ascended to the preacher's side and stood there waiting. With shut lids the preacher, unconscious of his presence, continued with his moving prayer, and at last finished it with the words, uttered in fervent appeal, "Bless our arms, grant us the victory, O Lord our God, Father and Protector of our land and flag!"
The stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside -- which the startled minister did -- and took his place. During some moments he surveyed the spellbound audience with solemn eyes, in which burned an uncanny light; then in a deep voice he said: "I come from the Throne -- bearing a message from Almighty God!" The words smote the house with a shock; if the stranger perceived it he gave no attention. "He has heard the prayer of His servant your shepherd, and will grant it if such shall be your desire after I, His messenger, shall have explained to you its import -- that is to say, its full import. For it is like unto many of the prayers of men, in that it asks for more than he who utters it is aware of -- except he pause and think.
"God's servant and yours has prayed his prayer. Has he paused and taken thought? Is it one prayer? No, it is two -- one uttered, the other not. Both have reached the ear of Him Who heareth all supplications, the spoken and the unspoken. Ponder this -- keep it in mind. If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon a neighbor at the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain upon your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse upon some neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.
"You have heard your servant's prayer -- the uttered part of it. I am commissioned of God to put into words the other part of it -- that part which the pastor -- and also you in your hearts -- fervently prayed silently. And ignorantly and unthinkingly? God grant that it was so! You heard these words: 'Grant us the victory, O Lord our God!' That is sufficient. the whole of the uttered prayer is compact into those pregnant words. Elaborations were not necessary. When you have prayed for victory you have prayed for many unmentioned results which follow victory -- must follow it, cannot help but follow it. Upon the listening spirit of God fell also the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it into words. Listen!
"O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle -- be Thou near them! With them -- in spirit -- we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it -- for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.
(After a pause.) "Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak! The messenger of the Most High waits!"
It was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there was no sense in what he said.


I leave you with this:

the man with the foolish grin

If the world were more appropriate . . . well . . . then I could just smile and nod.


I leave you with this:

Be-Bop-A-Lua, Baby What I Say

Virgin birth . . . an entire religion built on an oxymoron.







I leave you with this

His hair was perfect

Question: What makes an apple just like an orange?






Answer: They're both red except the orange



I leave you with this:

I'm changing everything, ah, everything around me

Sometimes it seems that things around me are trying to change me. Sometimes my only recourse is to simply NOT MAKE THINGS WORSE, even though every instinct in me wants to. It's like "making things worse" is part of my cell structure. I felt strong tremors earlier......and I wonder if they'll get bigger or leave.



Although things seem a bit brighter than earlier.

I leave you with how i felt earlier:




Powerless, but not showerless.

---------------------------------------------------------

03/14/08 False alarm. Glad I decided to not make things worse

Cheese Whiz. It took me by surprise

Some cultures are defined by their relationship to cheese.




I leave you with this:






Just clever enough to be indifferent.

Automating death / IBM Sing-a-long / Profits

Millions of punch cards were printed exclusively for the Nazis. The machines were leased by IBM, so they were serviced once a month, on site. They used IBM punch cards to manage the flow of millions of people thru the camps . . . an extraordinary traffic management system.









I leave you with one of many songs that loyal IBM employees, back in the day, used to sing






Have a nice day!

smoking spices?

I decided to quit smoking. I quit for 10 yrs, but things started to get a bit stressful. So it was either start smoking, or become a serial killer. With the exception of one person, everybody has thanked me for smoking. Last night I told a guy [the exception] that either I had to smoke again or become a serial killer. He told me that some people need “killing” and that I made the wrong choice. I congratulated him on being the lone voice in favor of serial killing, and that I was gonna quit smoking for that very reason. Wish me luck!!!

And now, a message from a boy about spices.





Like this young lad, I too enjoy doing the things no one thinks, or wants to do.

Did I ever tell you about the time I bought some candy to throw at the floats in our yearly 4th of July parade? It was a complete failure. Maybe I'll speak of it sometime.

"Sugar plum fairy came and hit the streets"

OK . . . I failed, even tho I mosty left that post alone. Editing increases creativity. Plus . . . it kills time . . . and in a somewhat constructive way. Yup!

I leave you with this:


"History is just one fucking thing after another."


and this:

ya know........I think I,ll do whatever I want on this blog

I always think there has to be a point when I say something. points are nice, but they tend to get a bit ............ too much [?] Another thing, I tend to edit things i write to death. i.m addicted to editing. I'm going to leave that >.< behind the >i< in "i.m" just to see if if this planet spins out of our orbit and into the` sun ... or worse. I think the of odds are in earth's favorand it won't happen. a couple of days ago i I finally too the time to figure out how to post u-tube in this blog, so i imagime i'll take this new found skill and totally abuse my many readers [LOL} and post the shit out of utube. I do have excellant tastes in music tho, so maybe it'll be a plus.

and`Now a special report from Tikrit .... Iraq

Musk














this post wasonly edited once, and that was for correct spelling or words that never got into the sentence. Therearestill way too many mistakes, but I'm gonna see if i can leave it at that.

Into the Wild

I just got done watching Into the Wild. I've read the book, watched

the movie and now I have two statements and one recommendation.

1. The movie is BRILLIANT!
2. and Emile Hirsch's performance is STUNNING!
3. Watch it!

It took me four days to hitchhike from saginaw

you hide things in vocabulary.

I leave you with this:

Run a bit faster, here comes the catcher

I'm not sure it matters much, anyhow.


Fallin' and spinnin'
Losin' and winnin'
Keepin' my head

Watchin' for signals
Wear some uigil
Was I misled
I remember you said that you
Don't want to forget me
It doesn't matter
Which of our fantasies fled

Every tomorrow
Lookin' to borrow
A piece of today

Run a bit faster
Here comes the catcher
Makin' his play
You had better not stay
You will soon be surrounded
It doesn't matter
Which of our fantasies fled

Lonely and winsome
Calling for someone
Living right now

Something is shallow
Ugly and hollow
Doesn't even allow
You to want to know how you might
Live for the living and
Give for the giving. Living
Moment by moment
One day at a time
It doesn't matter
It's nothin' but dreamin' any how

ya know . . .

in reviewing the templates to use for this blog, i inadvertantly picked this one. i just know it was god intervening and making the decision for me

It comforts me to know that god would take time out from fucking up the world to help little old me.