Trapped: The Mike Turner Story (143KB)
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Trapped! The Mike Turner Story
I had this story buried within my site and I wanted to bring it to light. It's my favorite story taken from Backpacker Magazine. I hope you like it as much as I did. Click on the .pdf icon below to view the story...
Monday, December 28, 2009
R.I.P. "Common Sense"
Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend by the name of Common Sense who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such value lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm and that life isn't always fair.
Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not kids, are in charge). His health began to rapidly deteriorate when well intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.
It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer aspirin to a student; but, could not inform the parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.
Finally, Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband; churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense finally gave up the ghost after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot, she spilled a bit in her lap, and was awarded a huge settlement.
Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust, his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason. He is survived by two stepbrothers; My Rights and Ima Whiner. Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. If you still know him pass this on, if not join the majority and do nothing! Unknown Author
Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not kids, are in charge). His health began to rapidly deteriorate when well intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.
It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer aspirin to a student; but, could not inform the parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.
Finally, Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband; churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense finally gave up the ghost after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot, she spilled a bit in her lap, and was awarded a huge settlement.
Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust, his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason. He is survived by two stepbrothers; My Rights and Ima Whiner. Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. If you still know him pass this on, if not join the majority and do nothing! Unknown Author
What is a "Billion"?
Can you define billion any better? The next time you hear a politician use the word billion casually, think about whether you want that politician spending your tax money. A billion is a difficult number to comprehend, but one advertising agency did a good job of putting that figure into perspective in one of its releases: A billion seconds ago, it was 1959. A billion minutes ago, Jesus was alive. A billion hours ago, our ancestors were living in the Stone Age. A billion dollars ago was only 8 hours and 20 minutes, at the rate Washington spends it. Unknown Author
Generational Differences
Nobody over thirty should be alive today. Here's why:
To begin with, eighty percent of us had a parent who smoked cigarettes, and nobody actually dropped dead. The government spent billions on health care for smokers; but nobody seems to know anyone who was cared for by the State in that capacity, nor has anyone I have talked to ever tripped over any of the four hundred fifty thousand dead bodies which annually succumb to the evils of tobacco, and none of my friends seemed too terribly affected by secondhand smoke.
But let's look at our childhood days, which were even more Fraught with potential disaster! According to today's intellectual atmosphere, those of us who were kids in the 40's, 50's, 60's, or even maybe the early 70's shouldn't have survived. Our baby cribs were covered with bright colored lead-based paint. Asbestos was everywhere, even on the sidings of many homes. It was required by law to prevent fires in buildings. We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets, and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets. (Not to mention the risks we took hitchhiking.)
As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags. Riding in the back of a pickup truck on a warm day was always a special treat. We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle. Horrors! We ate cupcakes, bread and butter, and drank soda pop with sugar in it, but we were never overweight because we were always outside playing. We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle, and no one actually died from this. (or even got sick, that I can recall). We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then rode down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.
We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the street lights came on. No one was able to reach us all day. NO CELL PHONES, or even pagers! Unthinkable! We did not have Playstations, Nintendo 64, X-Boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on cable, video tape movies, surround sound, personal phones, computers, or Internet chat rooms!
But, we had friends! We went outside and found them. We played ball, and sometimes, the ball would really hurt. We fell out of trees, got cut and broke bones and teeth, and there were no lawsuits from these disasters. No one was to blame but us; they were accidents. Remember accidents? We had fights and punched each other and got black and blue and learned to get over it. We made up games with sticks and tennis balls and ate worms, and although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes nor did the worms live inside us forever. We rode bikes or walked to a friend's home and knocked on the door, or rang the bell or just walked in and talked to them.
Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Some students weren't as smart as others, so they failed a grade and were held back to repeat the same grade. Horrors! Tests were not adjusted for any reason. Our actions were our own. Consequences were expected. The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke a law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law. Imagine that! If the teacher whipped your butt, you didn't go running to tell your parents; because you would get it again from them! Shades of child abuse!" Unknown Author
To begin with, eighty percent of us had a parent who smoked cigarettes, and nobody actually dropped dead. The government spent billions on health care for smokers; but nobody seems to know anyone who was cared for by the State in that capacity, nor has anyone I have talked to ever tripped over any of the four hundred fifty thousand dead bodies which annually succumb to the evils of tobacco, and none of my friends seemed too terribly affected by secondhand smoke.
But let's look at our childhood days, which were even more Fraught with potential disaster! According to today's intellectual atmosphere, those of us who were kids in the 40's, 50's, 60's, or even maybe the early 70's shouldn't have survived. Our baby cribs were covered with bright colored lead-based paint. Asbestos was everywhere, even on the sidings of many homes. It was required by law to prevent fires in buildings. We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets, and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets. (Not to mention the risks we took hitchhiking.)
As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags. Riding in the back of a pickup truck on a warm day was always a special treat. We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle. Horrors! We ate cupcakes, bread and butter, and drank soda pop with sugar in it, but we were never overweight because we were always outside playing. We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle, and no one actually died from this. (or even got sick, that I can recall). We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then rode down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.
We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the street lights came on. No one was able to reach us all day. NO CELL PHONES, or even pagers! Unthinkable! We did not have Playstations, Nintendo 64, X-Boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on cable, video tape movies, surround sound, personal phones, computers, or Internet chat rooms!
But, we had friends! We went outside and found them. We played ball, and sometimes, the ball would really hurt. We fell out of trees, got cut and broke bones and teeth, and there were no lawsuits from these disasters. No one was to blame but us; they were accidents. Remember accidents? We had fights and punched each other and got black and blue and learned to get over it. We made up games with sticks and tennis balls and ate worms, and although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes nor did the worms live inside us forever. We rode bikes or walked to a friend's home and knocked on the door, or rang the bell or just walked in and talked to them.
Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Some students weren't as smart as others, so they failed a grade and were held back to repeat the same grade. Horrors! Tests were not adjusted for any reason. Our actions were our own. Consequences were expected. The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke a law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law. Imagine that! If the teacher whipped your butt, you didn't go running to tell your parents; because you would get it again from them! Shades of child abuse!" Unknown Author
Everyone's Important
What sets the world in motion is the interplay of differences, their attractions and repulsions. Life is plurality, death is uniformity, by suppressing differences and peculiarities, by eliminating different civilizations and cultures, progress weakens life and favors death, impoverishes and mutilates us. Every view of the world that becomes extinct, every culture that disappears, diminishes a possibility of life. Octavia Paz
Modern Society
Subject: Two Choices
What would you do? You make the choice; don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway. My question to all of you is: would you have made the same choice?
At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question: "When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?"
The audience was stilled by the query.
The father continued. "I believe, that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes, in the way other people treat that child. " Then he told the following story: "Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, "Do you think they'll let me play?" Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.
Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked if Shay could play, not expecting much. The boy looked around for guidance and said, "We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning. "
Shay struggled over to the team's bench put on a team shirt with a broad smile and his Father had a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay s team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.
At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible 'cause Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball. However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing the other team putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.
The game would now be over, but the pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game. Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the head of the first baseman out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, "Shay, run to first! Run to first!" Never in his life had Shay ever ran that far but made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled. Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second!" Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to second base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball, the smallest guy on their team, who had a chance to be the hero for his team for the first time. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions and he too intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home. All were screaming, "Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay."
Shay reached third base, the opposing shortstop ran to help him and turned him in the direction of third base, and shouted, "Run to third! Shay, run to third!" As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams and those watching were on their feet were screaming, "Shay, run home!" Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the "grand slam" and won the game for his team.
"That day," said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "The boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world."
Shay didn't make it to another summer and died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making his Father so happy and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!
May your day, be a Shay Day, sunny today tomorrow & always!
What would you do? You make the choice; don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway. My question to all of you is: would you have made the same choice?
At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question: "When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?"
The audience was stilled by the query.
The father continued. "I believe, that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes, in the way other people treat that child. " Then he told the following story: "Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, "Do you think they'll let me play?" Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.
Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked if Shay could play, not expecting much. The boy looked around for guidance and said, "We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning. "
Shay struggled over to the team's bench put on a team shirt with a broad smile and his Father had a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay s team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.
At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible 'cause Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball. However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing the other team putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.
The game would now be over, but the pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game. Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the head of the first baseman out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, "Shay, run to first! Run to first!" Never in his life had Shay ever ran that far but made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled. Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second!" Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to second base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball, the smallest guy on their team, who had a chance to be the hero for his team for the first time. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions and he too intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home. All were screaming, "Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay."
Shay reached third base, the opposing shortstop ran to help him and turned him in the direction of third base, and shouted, "Run to third! Shay, run to third!" As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams and those watching were on their feet were screaming, "Shay, run home!" Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the "grand slam" and won the game for his team.
"That day," said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "The boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world."
Shay didn't make it to another summer and died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making his Father so happy and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!
May your day, be a Shay Day, sunny today tomorrow & always!
Luke AFB Complaint and Reply
Lieutenant Colonel Scott Pleus at Luke AFB deserves a big pat on the back. Apparently, an individual who lives somewhere near Luke AFB wrote the local paper complaining about a group of F-16s that disturbed his/her day at the mall. When that individual read the response from a Luke AFB officer, it must have stung quite a bit. I've gathered the original complaint, the LtCol's response, and the complainant's apology. I think it's very important to not forget about our men and women in harm's way.
The complaint: Question of the day for Luke Air Force Base: Whom do we thank for the morning air show? Last Wednesday, at precisely 9:11 a.m., a tight formation of four F-16 jets made a low pass over Arrowhead Mall, continuing west over Bell Road at approximately 500 feet. Imagine our good fortune! Do the Tom Cruise-wannabes feel we need this wake-up call, or were they trying to impress the cashiers at Mervyns' early-bird special? Any response would be appreciated.
The response: Regarding "A wake-up call from Luke's jets" (Letters, Thursday): on June 15, at precisely 9:12 a.m., a perfectly timed four-ship flyby of F-16s from the 63rd Fighter Squadron at Luke Air Force Base flew over the grave of Capt. Jeremy Fresques. Capt. Fresques was an Air Force officer who was previously stationed at Luke Air Force Base and was killed in Iraq on May 30, Memorial Day. At 9 a.m. on June 15, his family and friends gathered at Sunland Memorial Park in Sun City to mourn the loss of a husband, son and friend.
Based on the letter writer's recount of the flyby, and because of the jet noise, I'm sure you didn't hear the 21-gun salute, the playing of taps, or my words to the widow and parents of Capt. Fresques as I gave them their son's flag on behalf of the President of the United States and all those veterans and servicemen and women who understand the sacrifices they have endured. A four-ship flyby is a display of respect the Air Force pays to those who give their lives in defense of freedom. We are professional aviators and take our jobs seriously, and on June 15 what the letter writer witnessed was four officers lining up to pay their ultimate respects. The letter writer asks, "Whom do we thank for the morning air show?" The 56th Fighter Wing will call for you, and forward your thanks to the widow and parents of Capt. Fresques, and thank them for you, for it was in their honor that my pilots flew the most honorable formation of their lives. Signed Lt. Col. Scott Pleus; 63rd Fighter Squadron; Luke Air Force Base, AZ
Mr. MacRae's Apology to Lieutenant Colonel Scott Pleus (9 July): Regarding "Flyby honoring fallen comrade," I read with increasing embarrassment and humility the response to my unfortunate letter to The Republic concerning an Air Force flyby ("A wake-up call from Luke's jets," Letters, June 23). I had no idea of the significance of the flyby, and would never have insulted such a fine and respectful display had I known. I have received many calls from the fine airmen who are serving or have served at Luke, and I have attempted to explain my side and apologized for any discomfort my letter has caused. This was simply an uninformed citizen complaining about noise. I have been made aware in both written and verbal communications of the four-ship flyby, and my heart goes out to each and every lost serviceman and woman in this war in which we are engaged. I have been called un-American by an unknown caller and I feel that I must address that. I served in the U.S. Navy and am a Vietnam veteran. I love my country and respect the jobs that the service organizations are doing. Please accept my heartfelt apologies.
The complaint: Question of the day for Luke Air Force Base: Whom do we thank for the morning air show? Last Wednesday, at precisely 9:11 a.m., a tight formation of four F-16 jets made a low pass over Arrowhead Mall, continuing west over Bell Road at approximately 500 feet. Imagine our good fortune! Do the Tom Cruise-wannabes feel we need this wake-up call, or were they trying to impress the cashiers at Mervyns' early-bird special? Any response would be appreciated.
The response: Regarding "A wake-up call from Luke's jets" (Letters, Thursday): on June 15, at precisely 9:12 a.m., a perfectly timed four-ship flyby of F-16s from the 63rd Fighter Squadron at Luke Air Force Base flew over the grave of Capt. Jeremy Fresques. Capt. Fresques was an Air Force officer who was previously stationed at Luke Air Force Base and was killed in Iraq on May 30, Memorial Day. At 9 a.m. on June 15, his family and friends gathered at Sunland Memorial Park in Sun City to mourn the loss of a husband, son and friend.
Based on the letter writer's recount of the flyby, and because of the jet noise, I'm sure you didn't hear the 21-gun salute, the playing of taps, or my words to the widow and parents of Capt. Fresques as I gave them their son's flag on behalf of the President of the United States and all those veterans and servicemen and women who understand the sacrifices they have endured. A four-ship flyby is a display of respect the Air Force pays to those who give their lives in defense of freedom. We are professional aviators and take our jobs seriously, and on June 15 what the letter writer witnessed was four officers lining up to pay their ultimate respects. The letter writer asks, "Whom do we thank for the morning air show?" The 56th Fighter Wing will call for you, and forward your thanks to the widow and parents of Capt. Fresques, and thank them for you, for it was in their honor that my pilots flew the most honorable formation of their lives. Signed Lt. Col. Scott Pleus; 63rd Fighter Squadron; Luke Air Force Base, AZ
Mr. MacRae's Apology to Lieutenant Colonel Scott Pleus (9 July): Regarding "Flyby honoring fallen comrade," I read with increasing embarrassment and humility the response to my unfortunate letter to The Republic concerning an Air Force flyby ("A wake-up call from Luke's jets," Letters, June 23). I had no idea of the significance of the flyby, and would never have insulted such a fine and respectful display had I known. I have received many calls from the fine airmen who are serving or have served at Luke, and I have attempted to explain my side and apologized for any discomfort my letter has caused. This was simply an uninformed citizen complaining about noise. I have been made aware in both written and verbal communications of the four-ship flyby, and my heart goes out to each and every lost serviceman and woman in this war in which we are engaged. I have been called un-American by an unknown caller and I feel that I must address that. I served in the U.S. Navy and am a Vietnam veteran. I love my country and respect the jobs that the service organizations are doing. Please accept my heartfelt apologies.
John McCain's Remarks about the Pledge of Allegience
In light of the recent appeals court ruling in California, with respect to the Pledge of Allegiance, the following recollection from Senator John McCain is very appropriate:
As you may know, I spent five and one half years as a prisoner of war during the Vietnam War. In the early years of our imprisonment, the NVA kept us in solitary confinement or two or three to a cell. In 1971 the NVA moved us from these conditions of isolation into large rooms with as many as 30 to 40 men to a room. This was, as you can imagine, a wonderful change and was a direct result of the efforts of millions of Americans on behalf of a few hundred POWs 10,000 miles from home. One of the men who moved into my room was a young man named Mike Christian.
Mike came from a small town near Selma, Alabama He didn't wear a pair of shoes until he was 13 years old. At 17, he enlisted in the US Navy. He later earned a commission by going to Officer Training School Then he became a Naval Flight Officer and was shot down and captured in 1967. Mike had a keen and deep appreciation of the opportunities this country and our military provide for people who want to work and want to succeed.
As part of the change in treatment, the Vietnamese allowed some prisoners to receive packages from home. In some of these packages were handkerchiefs, scarves and other items of clothing. Mike got himself a bamboo needle. Over a period of a couple of months, he created an American flag and sewed on the inside of his shirt. Every afternoon, before we had a bowl of soup, we would hang Mike's shirt on the wall of the cell and say the Pledge of Allegiance.
I know the Pledge of Allegiance may not seem the most important part of our day now, but I can assure you that in that stark cell it was indeed the most important and meaningful event. One day the Vietnamese searched our cell, as they did periodically, and discovered Mike's shirt with the flag sewn inside, and removed it. That evening they returned, opened the door of the cell, and for the benefit of all of us, beat Mike Christian severely for the next couple of hours Then, they opened the door of the cell and threw him in; we cleaned him up as well as we could. The cell in which we lived had a concrete slab in the middle on which we slept Four naked light bulbs hung in each corner of the room.
As I said, we tried to clean up Mike as well as we could. After the excitement died down, I looked in the corner of the room, and sitting there beneath that dim light bulb with a piece of red cloth, another shirt and his bamboo needle, was my friend, Mike Christian. He was sitting there with his eyes almost shut from the beating he had received, making another American flag. He was not making the flag because it made Mike Christian feel better. He was making that flag because he knew how important it was to us to be able to Pledge our allegiance to our flag and country.
So the next time you say the Pledge of Allegiance, you must never forget the sacrifice and courage that thousands of Americans have made to build our nation and promote freedom around the world.
You must remember our duty, our honor, and our country.
"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all." Senator John McCain
As you may know, I spent five and one half years as a prisoner of war during the Vietnam War. In the early years of our imprisonment, the NVA kept us in solitary confinement or two or three to a cell. In 1971 the NVA moved us from these conditions of isolation into large rooms with as many as 30 to 40 men to a room. This was, as you can imagine, a wonderful change and was a direct result of the efforts of millions of Americans on behalf of a few hundred POWs 10,000 miles from home. One of the men who moved into my room was a young man named Mike Christian.
Mike came from a small town near Selma, Alabama He didn't wear a pair of shoes until he was 13 years old. At 17, he enlisted in the US Navy. He later earned a commission by going to Officer Training School Then he became a Naval Flight Officer and was shot down and captured in 1967. Mike had a keen and deep appreciation of the opportunities this country and our military provide for people who want to work and want to succeed.
As part of the change in treatment, the Vietnamese allowed some prisoners to receive packages from home. In some of these packages were handkerchiefs, scarves and other items of clothing. Mike got himself a bamboo needle. Over a period of a couple of months, he created an American flag and sewed on the inside of his shirt. Every afternoon, before we had a bowl of soup, we would hang Mike's shirt on the wall of the cell and say the Pledge of Allegiance.
I know the Pledge of Allegiance may not seem the most important part of our day now, but I can assure you that in that stark cell it was indeed the most important and meaningful event. One day the Vietnamese searched our cell, as they did periodically, and discovered Mike's shirt with the flag sewn inside, and removed it. That evening they returned, opened the door of the cell, and for the benefit of all of us, beat Mike Christian severely for the next couple of hours Then, they opened the door of the cell and threw him in; we cleaned him up as well as we could. The cell in which we lived had a concrete slab in the middle on which we slept Four naked light bulbs hung in each corner of the room.
As I said, we tried to clean up Mike as well as we could. After the excitement died down, I looked in the corner of the room, and sitting there beneath that dim light bulb with a piece of red cloth, another shirt and his bamboo needle, was my friend, Mike Christian. He was sitting there with his eyes almost shut from the beating he had received, making another American flag. He was not making the flag because it made Mike Christian feel better. He was making that flag because he knew how important it was to us to be able to Pledge our allegiance to our flag and country.
So the next time you say the Pledge of Allegiance, you must never forget the sacrifice and courage that thousands of Americans have made to build our nation and promote freedom around the world.
You must remember our duty, our honor, and our country.
"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all." Senator John McCain
What is "Love"?
A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds: "What does love mean?" The answer they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined. See what you think:
When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love. Rebecca (age 8)
When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth. Billy (age 4)
Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other. Karl (age 5)
Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you without making them give you any of theirs. Chrissy (age 6)
Love is what makes you smile when you're tired. Terri (age 4)
Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK. Danny (age 7)
Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss! Emily (age 8)
Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen. Bobby (age 7)
If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate. Nikka (age 6)
Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday. Noelle (age 7)
Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well. Tommy (age 6)
During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore. All the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. Cindy (age 8)
My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night. Clare (age 6)
Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken. Elaine (age 5)
Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford. Chris (age 7)
Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day. Mary Ann (age 4)
I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones. Lauren (age 4)
When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you. Karen (age 6)
Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross. Mark (age 6)
You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget. Jessica (age 8)
And the final one -- author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge a contest to find the most caring child. The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said: Nothing, I just helped him cry.
When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love. Rebecca (age 8)
When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth. Billy (age 4)
Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other. Karl (age 5)
Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you without making them give you any of theirs. Chrissy (age 6)
Love is what makes you smile when you're tired. Terri (age 4)
Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK. Danny (age 7)
Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss! Emily (age 8)
Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen. Bobby (age 7)
If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate. Nikka (age 6)
Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday. Noelle (age 7)
Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well. Tommy (age 6)
During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore. All the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. Cindy (age 8)
My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night. Clare (age 6)
Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken. Elaine (age 5)
Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford. Chris (age 7)
Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day. Mary Ann (age 4)
I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones. Lauren (age 4)
When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you. Karen (age 6)
Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross. Mark (age 6)
You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget. Jessica (age 8)
And the final one -- author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge a contest to find the most caring child. The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said: Nothing, I just helped him cry.
The Bible's Love
Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. Love does not demand its own way. Love is not irritable, and it keeps no record of when it has been wronged. It is never glad about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. I Corinthians 13:4-7, Christian
Last Time I See You Fall Asleep
If I knew it would be the last time that I'd see you fall asleep, I would tuck you in more tightly and pray the Lord, your soul to keep. If I knew it would be the last time that I see you walk out the door, I would give you a hug and kiss and call you back for one more. If I knew it would be the last time I'd hear your voice lifted up in praise, I would video tape each action and word, so I could play them back day after day. If I knew it would be the last time, I could spare an extra minute to stop and say I love you, instead of assuming you would KNOW I do. If I knew it would be the last time I would be there to share your day, well I'm sure you'll have so many more, so I can let just this one slip away. For surely there's always tomorrow to make up for an oversight, and we always get a second chance to make everything just right. There will always be another day to say I love you, and certainly there's another chance to say our Anything I can do? But just in case I might be wrong, and today is all I get, I'd like to say how much I love you and I hope we never forget. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone, young or old alike, and today may be the last chance you get to hold your loved one tight. So if you're waiting for tomorrow, why not do it today? For if tomorrow never comes, you'll surely regret the day, that you didn't take that extra time for a smile, a hug, or a kiss and you were too busy to grant someone, what turned out to be their one last wish. So hold your loved ones close today, and whisper in their ear, tell them how much you love them and that you'll always hold them dear take time to say I'm sorry, please forgive me, thank you, or it's okay. And if tomorrow never comes, you'll have no regrets about today. Unknown author
Love Me or Leave Me
Love me or leave me, tell me no lies. Ask me no questions, send me no spies. You know Love's a thief, steal your heart in the night. Slip through your fingers, best hold on tight. Motorhead (a rock/metal band)
Google Search Results: "Weapons of Mass Destruction"
A couple years ago, if you typed "weapons of mass destruction" into Google's search engine and clicked on the I feel lucky button, this fake 404 page would appear. I thought it was a real 404 page until I read it...very clever I think and I'm glad I saved it.
Weapons of Mass Destruction (44KB)
Chemistry Exam Bonus Question
The following is an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry mid-term exam. The answer by one student was so profound that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well. Here is the "Bonus Question" on the exam:
Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?
Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.
One student, however, wrote the following:
First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving.
As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially.
Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.
This gives two possibilities:
1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.
2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.
So which is it?
If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa (a girlfriend of mine during my Freshman year) that, "it will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you", and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number 2 must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct...leaving only Heaven; thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting "Oh my God."
THIS STUDENT RECEIVED THE ONLY "A."
Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?
Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.
One student, however, wrote the following:
First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving.
As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially.
Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.
This gives two possibilities:
1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.
2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.
So which is it?
If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa (a girlfriend of mine during my Freshman year) that, "it will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you", and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number 2 must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct...leaving only Heaven; thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting "Oh my God."
THIS STUDENT RECEIVED THE ONLY "A."
Andy Roomerisms
I love Andy Rooney's writing and his segments on TV, here's some Andy Rooneyisms:
Rooney on Monica: can you believe it? Monica turned 28 this week. It seems like only yesterday that she was crawling round the White House on her hands and knees.
Rooney on vegetarians: vegetarian - that"s an old Indian word meaning "lousy hunter."
Rooney on prisoners: did you know that it costs $40,000 a year to house each prisoner? Jeez, for forty thousand bucks a piece I"ll take a few prisoners into my house. I live in Los Angeles. I already have bars on the windows. I don"t think we should give free room and board to criminals. I think they should have to run twelve hours a day on a treadmill and generate electricity. And, if they don"t want to run, they can rest in the chair that"s hooked up to the generator.
Rooney on fabric softeners: my wife uses fabric softener. I never knew what that stuff was for. Then I noticed women coming up to me, sniffing, then saying under their breath, "Married!" and walking away. Fabric softeners are how our wives mark their territory. We can take off the ring. But, it"s hard to get that April Fresh scent out of your clothes.
Rooney on morning differences: men and women are different in the morning. We men wake up aroused in the morning. We can"t help it. We just wake up and we want you. And the women are thinking, "How can he want me the way I look in the morning?" It"s because we can"t see you. We have no blood anywhere near our optic nerve.
Rooney on "cripes:" my wife"s from the Midwest. Very nice people there. Very wholesome. They use words like ""Cripes," ""For Cripes sake." Who would that be; Jesus Cripes? The son of "Gosh" of the church of "Holy Moly"?" I"m not making fun of it. You think I wanna burn in "Heck?"
Rooney on Grandma: my grandmother has a bumper sticker on her car that says, "Sexy Senior Citizen." You don"t want to think of your grand-mother that way, do you? Out entering wet shawl contests. Makes you wonder where she got that dollar she gave you for your birthday.
RIP - November 4, 2011
Rooney on Monica: can you believe it? Monica turned 28 this week. It seems like only yesterday that she was crawling round the White House on her hands and knees.
Rooney on vegetarians: vegetarian - that"s an old Indian word meaning "lousy hunter."
Rooney on prisoners: did you know that it costs $40,000 a year to house each prisoner? Jeez, for forty thousand bucks a piece I"ll take a few prisoners into my house. I live in Los Angeles. I already have bars on the windows. I don"t think we should give free room and board to criminals. I think they should have to run twelve hours a day on a treadmill and generate electricity. And, if they don"t want to run, they can rest in the chair that"s hooked up to the generator.
Rooney on fabric softeners: my wife uses fabric softener. I never knew what that stuff was for. Then I noticed women coming up to me, sniffing, then saying under their breath, "Married!" and walking away. Fabric softeners are how our wives mark their territory. We can take off the ring. But, it"s hard to get that April Fresh scent out of your clothes.
Rooney on morning differences: men and women are different in the morning. We men wake up aroused in the morning. We can"t help it. We just wake up and we want you. And the women are thinking, "How can he want me the way I look in the morning?" It"s because we can"t see you. We have no blood anywhere near our optic nerve.
Rooney on "cripes:" my wife"s from the Midwest. Very nice people there. Very wholesome. They use words like ""Cripes," ""For Cripes sake." Who would that be; Jesus Cripes? The son of "Gosh" of the church of "Holy Moly"?" I"m not making fun of it. You think I wanna burn in "Heck?"
Rooney on Grandma: my grandmother has a bumper sticker on her car that says, "Sexy Senior Citizen." You don"t want to think of your grand-mother that way, do you? Out entering wet shawl contests. Makes you wonder where she got that dollar she gave you for your birthday.
RIP - November 4, 2011
Should Children Witness Childbirth?
Due to a power outage, only one paramedic responded to the call. The house was very, very dark, so the paramedic asked Kathleen, a 3-year-old girl, to hold the light high over her mommy so he could see while he helped deliver the baby. Very diligently Kathleen did as she was asked. Her mother Heidi pushed and pushed, and after a little while Connor was born.
The paramedic lifted him by his little feet and spanked him on his bottom. Connor began to cry. The paramedic then thanked Kathleen for her help and asked the wide-eyed 3-year-old what she thought about what she had just witnessed. Kathleen quickly responded, "He shouldn't have crawled in there in the first place. Smack his ass again.
The paramedic lifted him by his little feet and spanked him on his bottom. Connor began to cry. The paramedic then thanked Kathleen for her help and asked the wide-eyed 3-year-old what she thought about what she had just witnessed. Kathleen quickly responded, "He shouldn't have crawled in there in the first place. Smack his ass again.
Rainbow Bridge
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together. Unknown Author
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together. Unknown Author
Dogs in Heaven
My best friend closed his eyes last night, as his head was in my hand. The Doctors said he was in pain, and it was hard for him to stand.
The thoughts that scurried through my head, as I cradled him in my arms. Were of his younger, puppy years, and Oh...his many charms.
Today, there was no gentle nudge with an intense "I love you gaze", only a heart that"s filled with tears remembering our joy filled days.
But an Angel just appeared to me, aAnd he said, "You should cry no more, GOD also loves our canine friends, He"s installed a doggy-door! Jan Cooper (1995)
The thoughts that scurried through my head, as I cradled him in my arms. Were of his younger, puppy years, and Oh...his many charms.
Today, there was no gentle nudge with an intense "I love you gaze", only a heart that"s filled with tears remembering our joy filled days.
But an Angel just appeared to me, aAnd he said, "You should cry no more, GOD also loves our canine friends, He"s installed a doggy-door! Jan Cooper (1995)
Shoes in Church
I showered and shaved and adjusted my tie I got there and sat in a pew just in time. Bowing my head in prayer as I closed my eyes. I saw the shoe of the man next to me touching mine. With plenty of room on either side I thought why must our soles touch?" It bothered me, his shoe touching mine but it didn't bother him much.
A prayer began: "Our Father" I thought, this man with the shoes has no pride. They're dusty, worn, and scratched even worse there are holes on the side. Thank You for blessings, the prayer went on and the shoe man said a quiet Amen I tried to focus on the prayer but my thoughts were on his shoes again. Aren't we supposed to look our best when walking through that door?
Well, this certainly isn't it, I thought glancing toward the floor. Then the prayer was ended and the songs of praise began the shoe man was certainly loud sounding proud as he sang. His voice lifted the rafters his hands were raised high the Lord could surely hear the shoe man's voice from the sky. It was time for the offering and what I threw in was steep I watched as the shoe man reached into his pockets so deep.
I saw what was pulled out, what the shoe man put in then I heard a soft "clink" as when silver hits tin. The sermon really bored me to tears, and that's no lie it was the same for the shoe man for tears fell from his eyes. At the end of the service as is the custom here we must greet new visitors and show them all good cheer. But I felt moved somehow and wanted to meet the shoe man so after the closing prayer I reached over and shook his hand.
He was old and his skin was dark and his hair was truly a mess but I thanked him for coming, for being our guest. He said, "My names' Charlie I'm glad to meet you my friend." There were tears in his eyes but he had a large, wide grin. "Let me explain," he said wiping tears from his eyes "I’ve been coming here for months and you're the first to say hi."
"I know that my appearance is not like all the rest but I really do try to always look my best. I always clean and polish my shoes before my very long walk but by the time I get here they're dirty and dusty, like chalk. My heart filled with pain and I swallowed to hide my tears as he continued to apologize for daring to sit so near. He said, "When I get here I know I must look a sight but I thought if I could touch you then maybe our souls might unite."
I was silent for a moment knowing that whatever was said would pale in comparison, I spoke from my heart not my head. "Oh, you've touched me," I said "and taught me in part, that the best of any man is what is found in his heart." The rest, I thought, this shoe man will never know like just how thankful I really am that his dirty old shoe touched my soul. Be blessed.
A prayer began: "Our Father" I thought, this man with the shoes has no pride. They're dusty, worn, and scratched even worse there are holes on the side. Thank You for blessings, the prayer went on and the shoe man said a quiet Amen I tried to focus on the prayer but my thoughts were on his shoes again. Aren't we supposed to look our best when walking through that door?
Well, this certainly isn't it, I thought glancing toward the floor. Then the prayer was ended and the songs of praise began the shoe man was certainly loud sounding proud as he sang. His voice lifted the rafters his hands were raised high the Lord could surely hear the shoe man's voice from the sky. It was time for the offering and what I threw in was steep I watched as the shoe man reached into his pockets so deep.
I saw what was pulled out, what the shoe man put in then I heard a soft "clink" as when silver hits tin. The sermon really bored me to tears, and that's no lie it was the same for the shoe man for tears fell from his eyes. At the end of the service as is the custom here we must greet new visitors and show them all good cheer. But I felt moved somehow and wanted to meet the shoe man so after the closing prayer I reached over and shook his hand.
He was old and his skin was dark and his hair was truly a mess but I thanked him for coming, for being our guest. He said, "My names' Charlie I'm glad to meet you my friend." There were tears in his eyes but he had a large, wide grin. "Let me explain," he said wiping tears from his eyes "I’ve been coming here for months and you're the first to say hi."
"I know that my appearance is not like all the rest but I really do try to always look my best. I always clean and polish my shoes before my very long walk but by the time I get here they're dirty and dusty, like chalk. My heart filled with pain and I swallowed to hide my tears as he continued to apologize for daring to sit so near. He said, "When I get here I know I must look a sight but I thought if I could touch you then maybe our souls might unite."
I was silent for a moment knowing that whatever was said would pale in comparison, I spoke from my heart not my head. "Oh, you've touched me," I said "and taught me in part, that the best of any man is what is found in his heart." The rest, I thought, this shoe man will never know like just how thankful I really am that his dirty old shoe touched my soul. Be blessed.
Quick Story About Communism
A coworker sent this to me and I think it’s pretty clever:
Could not be any simpler than that.
An economics professor at a local college made a statement that he had never failed a single student before, but had once failed an entire class.That class had insisted that Obama's socialism worked and that no one would be poor and no one would be rich, a great equalizer.The professor then said, "OK, we will have an experiment in this class on Obama's plan".All grades would be averaged and everyone would receive the same grade so no one would fail and no one would receive an A.After the first test, the grades were averaged and everyone got a B. The students who studied hard were upset and the students who studied little were happy. As the second test rolled around, the students who studied little had studied even less and the ones who studied hard decided they wanted a free ride too so they studied little. The second test average was a D! No one was happy.When the 3rd test rolled around, the average was an F.The scores never increased as bickering, blame and name-calling all resulted in hard feelings and no one would study for the benefit of anyone else. All failed, to their great surprise, and the professor told them that socialism would also ultimately fail because when the reward is great, the effort to succeed is great but when government takes all the reward away, no one will try or want to succeed.
Could not be any simpler than that.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
The Tragedy of the Commons
This is a reprint of Gerrit Hardin's Tragedy of the Commons which is a classic environmental report on how we all share certain environmental conditions. Click on the .pdf icon below to view the story...
Tragedy of the Commons (86KB)
Monday, July 6, 2009
Still Catching Gophers
The other day I noticed a gopher hole near our backyard patio so I stuck a hose in the hole and went inside. You can Tira was very interested and was watching. About five minutes later I looked outside and Tira was gone so I went outside to see what she was up to. She was acting funny and I later saw she had a gopher in her mouth.
Tira and I are now tied with the number of gophers we’ve each caught... I need to read some books on gopher catching so I can regain the title!
Tira and I are now tied with the number of gophers we’ve each caught... I need to read some books on gopher catching so I can regain the title!
Monday, February 2, 2009
Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs
On Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs
By LTC (RET) Dave Grossman, author of "On Killing."
Honor never grows old, and honor rejoices the heart of age. It does so because honor is, finally, about defending those noble and worthy things that deserve defending, even if it comes at a high cost. In our time, that may mean social disapproval, public scorn, hardship, persecution, or as always,even death itself. The question remains: What is worth defending? What is worth dying for? What is worth living for? - William J. Bennett - in a lecture to the United States Naval Academy November 24, 1997
One Vietnam veteran, an old retired colonel, once said this to me:
Most of the people in our society are sheep. They are kind, gentle, productive creatures who can only hurt one another by accident." This is true. Remember, the murder rate is six per 100,000 per year, and the aggravated assault rate is four per 1,000 per year. What this means is that the vast majority of Americans are not inclined to hurt one another. Some estimates say that two million Americans are victims of violent crimes every year, a tragic, staggering number, perhaps an all-time record rate of violent crime. But there are almost 300 million Americans, which means that the odds of being a victim of violent crime is considerably less than one in a hundred on any given year. Furthermore, since many violent crimes are committed by repeat offenders, the actual number of violent citizens is considerably less than two million.
Thus there is a paradox, and we must grasp both ends of the situation: We may well be in the most violent times in history, but violence is still remarkably rare. This is because most citizens are kind, decent people who are not capable of hurting each other, except by accident or under extreme provocation. They are sheep.
I mean nothing negative by calling them sheep. To me it is like the pretty, blue robin's egg. Inside it is soft and gooey but someday it will grow into something wonderful. But the egg cannot survive without its hard blue shell. Police officers, soldiers, and other warriors are like that shell, and someday the civilization they protect will grow into something wonderful.? For now, though, they need warriors to protect them from the predators.
"Then there are the wolves," the old war veteran said, "and the wolves feed on the sheep without mercy." Do you believe there are wolves out there who will feed on the flock without mercy? You better believe it. There are evil men in this world and they are capable of evil deeds. The moment you forget that or pretend it is not so, you become a sheep. There is no safety in denial.
"Then there are sheepdogs," he went on, "and I'm a sheepdog. I live to protect the flock and confront the wolf."
If you have no capacity for violence then you are a healthy productive citizen, a sheep. If you have a capacity for violence and no empathy for your fellow citizens, then you have defined an aggressive sociopath, a wolf. But what if you have a capacity for violence, and a deep love for your fellow citizens? What do you have then? A sheepdog, a warrior, someone who is walking the hero's path. Someone who can walk into the heart of darkness, into the universal human phobia, and walk out unscathed.
Let me expand on this old soldier's excellent model of the sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs. We know that the sheep live in denial, that is what makes them sheep. They do not want to believe that there is evil in the world. They can accept the fact that fires can happen, which is why they want fire extinguishers, fire sprinklers, fire alarms and fire exits throughout their kids' schools.
But many of them are outraged at the idea of putting an armed police officer in their kid's school. Our children are thousands of times more likely to be killed or seriously injured by school violence than fire, but the sheep's only response to the possibility of violence is denial. The idea of someone coming to kill or harm their child is just too hard, and so they chose the path of denial.
The sheep generally do not like the sheepdog. He looks a lot like the wolf. He has fangs and the capacity for violence. The difference, though, is that the sheepdog must not, can not and will not ever harm the sheep. Any sheep dog who intentionally harms the lowliest little lamb will be punished and removed. The world cannot work any other way, at least not in a representative democracy or a republic such as ours.
Still, the sheepdog disturbs the sheep. He is a constant reminder that there are wolves in the land. They would prefer that he didn't tell them where to go, or give them traffic tickets, or stand at the ready in our airports in camouflage fatigues holding an M-16. The sheep would much rather have the sheepdog cash in his fangs, spray paint himself white, and go, "Baa."
Until the wolf shows up. Then the entire flock tries desperately to hide behind one lonely sheepdog.
The students, the victims, at Columbine High School were big, tough high school students, and under ordinary circumstances they would not have had the time of day for a police officer. They were not bad kids; they just had nothing to say to a cop. When the school was under attack, however, and SWAT teams were clearing the rooms and hallways, the officers had to physically peel those clinging, sobbing kids off of them. This is how the little lambs feel about their sheepdog when the wolf is at the door.
Look at what happened after September 11, 2001 when the wolf pounded hard on the door. Remember how America, more than ever before, felt differently about their law enforcement officers and military personnel? Remember how many times you heard the word hero?
Understand that there is nothing morally superior about being a sheepdog; it is just what you choose to be. Also understand that a sheepdog is a funny critter: He is always sniffing around out on the perimeter, checking the breeze, barking at things that go bump in the night, and yearning for a righteous battle. That is, the young sheepdogs yearn for a righteous battle. The old sheepdogs are a little older and wiser, but they move to the sound of the guns when needed right along with the young ones.
Here is how the sheep and the sheepdog think differently. The sheep pretend the wolf will never come, but the sheepdog lives for that day. After the attacks on September 11, 2001, most of the sheep, that is, most citizens in America said, "Thank God I wasn't on one of those planes." The sheepdogs, the warriors, said, "Dear God, I wish I could have been on one of those planes. Maybe I could have made a difference." When you are truly transformed into a warrior and have truly invested yourself into warriorhood, you want to be there. You want to be able to make a difference.
There is nothing morally superior about the sheepdog, the warrior, but he does have one real advantage. Only one. And that is that he is able to survive and thrive in an environment that destroys 98 percent of the population. There was research conducted a few years ago with individuals convicted of violent crimes. These cons were in prison for serious, predatory crimes of violence: assaults, murders and killing law enforcement officers. The vast majority said that they specifically targeted victims by body language: slumped walk, passive behavior and lack of awareness. They chose their victims like big cats do in Africa, when they select one out of the herd that is least able to protect itself.
Some people may be destined to be sheep and others might be genetically primed to be wolves or sheepdogs. But I believe that most people can choose which one they want to be, and I'm proud to say that more and more Americans are choosing to become sheepdogs.
Seven months after the attack on September 11, 2001, Todd Beamer was honored in his hometown of Cranbury, New Jersey. Todd, as you recall, was the man on Flight 93 over Pennsylvania who called on his cell phone to alert an operator from United Airlines about the hijacking. When he learned of the other three passenger planes that had been used as weapons, Todd dropped his phone and uttered the words, "Let's roll," which authorities believe was a signal to the other passengers to confront the terrorist hijackers. In one hour, a transformation occurred among the passengers - athletes, business people and parents. -- from sheep to sheepdogs and together they fought the wolves, ultimately saving an unknown number of lives on the ground.
There is no safety for honest men except by believing all possible evil of evil men. - Edmund Burke
Here is the point I like to emphasize, especially to the thousands of police officers and soldiers I speak to each year. In nature the sheep, real sheep, are born as sheep. Sheepdogs are born that way, and so are wolves. They didn't have a choice. But you are not a critter. As a human being, you can be whatever you want to be. It is a conscious, moral decision.
If you want to be a sheep, then you can be a sheep and that is okay, but you must understand the price you pay. When the wolf comes, you and your loved ones are going to die if there is not a sheepdog there to protect you. If you want to be a wolf, you can be one, but the sheepdogs are going to hunt you down and you will never have rest, safety, trust or love. But if you want to be a sheepdog and walk the warrior's path, then you must make a conscious and moral decision every day to dedicate, equip and prepare yourself to thrive in that toxic, corrosive moment when the wolf comes knocking at the door.
For example, many officers carry their weapons in church.? They are well concealed in ankle holsters, shoulder holsters or inside-the-belt holsters tucked into the small of their backs.? Anytime you go to some form of religious service, there is a very good chance that a police officer in your congregation is carrying. You will never know if there is such an individual in your place of worship, until the wolf appears to massacre you and your loved ones.
I was training a group of police officers in Texas, and during the break, one officer asked his friend if he carried his weapon in church. The other cop replied, "I will never be caught without my gun in church." I asked why he felt so strongly about this, and he told me about a cop he knew who was at a church massacre in Ft. Worth, Texas in 1999. In that incident, a mentally deranged individual came into the church and opened fire, gunning down fourteen people. He said that officer believed he could have saved every life that day if he had been carrying his gun. His own son was shot, and all he could do was throw himself on the boy's body and wait to die. That cop looked me in the eye and said, "Do you have any idea how hard it would be to live with yourself after that?"
Some individuals would be horrified if they knew this police officer was carrying a weapon in church. They might call him paranoid and would probably scorn him. Yet these same individuals would be enraged and would call for "heads to roll" if they found out that the airbags in their cars were defective, or that the fire extinguisher and fire sprinklers in their kids' school did not work. They can accept the fact that fires and traffic accidents can happen and that there must be safeguards against them.
Their only response to the wolf, though, is denial, and all too often their response to the sheepdog is scorn and disdain. But the sheepdog quietly asks himself, "Do you have and idea how hard it would be to live with yourself if your loved ones attacked and killed, and you had to stand there helplessly because you were unprepared for that day?"
It is denial that turns people into sheep. Sheep are psychologically destroyed by combat because their only defense is denial, which is counterproductive and destructive, resulting in fear, helplessness and horror when the wolf shows up.
Denial kills you twice. It kills you once, at your moment of truth when you are not physically prepared: you didn't bring your gun, you didn't train. Your only defense was wishful thinking. Hope is not a strategy. Denial kills you a second time because even if you do physically survive, you are psychologically shattered by your fear helplessness and horror at your moment of truth.
Gavin de Becker puts it like this in Fear Less, his superb post-9/11 book, which should be required reading for anyone trying to come to terms with our current world situation: "...denial can be seductive, but it has an insidious side effect. For all the peace of mind deniers think they get by saying it isn't so, the fall they take when faced with new violence is all the more unsettling."
Denial is a save-now-pay-later scheme, a contract written entirely in small print, for in the long run, the denying person knows the truth on some level.
And so the warrior must strive to confront denial in all aspects of his life, and prepare himself for the day when evil comes. If you are warrior who is legally authorized to carry a weapon and you step outside without that weapon, then you become a sheep, pretending that the bad man will not come today. No one can be "on" 24/7, for a lifetime. Everyone needs down time. But if you are authorized to carry a weapon, and you walk outside without it, just take a deep breath, and say this to yourself...
"Baa."
This business of being a sheep or a sheep dog is not a yes-no dichotomy. It is not an all-or-nothing, either-or choice. It is a matter of degrees, a continuum. On one end is an abject, head-in-the-sand-sheep and on the other end is the ultimate warrior. Few people exist completely on one end or the other. Most of us live somewhere in between. Since 9-11 almost everyone in America took a step up that continuum, away from denial. The sheep took a few steps toward accepting and appreciating their warriors, and the warriors started taking their job more seriously. The degree to which you move up that continuum, away from sheephood and denial, is the degree to which you and your loved ones will survive, physically and psychologically at your moment of truth.
By LTC (RET) Dave Grossman, author of "On Killing."
Honor never grows old, and honor rejoices the heart of age. It does so because honor is, finally, about defending those noble and worthy things that deserve defending, even if it comes at a high cost. In our time, that may mean social disapproval, public scorn, hardship, persecution, or as always,even death itself. The question remains: What is worth defending? What is worth dying for? What is worth living for? - William J. Bennett - in a lecture to the United States Naval Academy November 24, 1997
One Vietnam veteran, an old retired colonel, once said this to me:
Most of the people in our society are sheep. They are kind, gentle, productive creatures who can only hurt one another by accident." This is true. Remember, the murder rate is six per 100,000 per year, and the aggravated assault rate is four per 1,000 per year. What this means is that the vast majority of Americans are not inclined to hurt one another. Some estimates say that two million Americans are victims of violent crimes every year, a tragic, staggering number, perhaps an all-time record rate of violent crime. But there are almost 300 million Americans, which means that the odds of being a victim of violent crime is considerably less than one in a hundred on any given year. Furthermore, since many violent crimes are committed by repeat offenders, the actual number of violent citizens is considerably less than two million.
Thus there is a paradox, and we must grasp both ends of the situation: We may well be in the most violent times in history, but violence is still remarkably rare. This is because most citizens are kind, decent people who are not capable of hurting each other, except by accident or under extreme provocation. They are sheep.
I mean nothing negative by calling them sheep. To me it is like the pretty, blue robin's egg. Inside it is soft and gooey but someday it will grow into something wonderful. But the egg cannot survive without its hard blue shell. Police officers, soldiers, and other warriors are like that shell, and someday the civilization they protect will grow into something wonderful.? For now, though, they need warriors to protect them from the predators.
"Then there are the wolves," the old war veteran said, "and the wolves feed on the sheep without mercy." Do you believe there are wolves out there who will feed on the flock without mercy? You better believe it. There are evil men in this world and they are capable of evil deeds. The moment you forget that or pretend it is not so, you become a sheep. There is no safety in denial.
"Then there are sheepdogs," he went on, "and I'm a sheepdog. I live to protect the flock and confront the wolf."
If you have no capacity for violence then you are a healthy productive citizen, a sheep. If you have a capacity for violence and no empathy for your fellow citizens, then you have defined an aggressive sociopath, a wolf. But what if you have a capacity for violence, and a deep love for your fellow citizens? What do you have then? A sheepdog, a warrior, someone who is walking the hero's path. Someone who can walk into the heart of darkness, into the universal human phobia, and walk out unscathed.
Let me expand on this old soldier's excellent model of the sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs. We know that the sheep live in denial, that is what makes them sheep. They do not want to believe that there is evil in the world. They can accept the fact that fires can happen, which is why they want fire extinguishers, fire sprinklers, fire alarms and fire exits throughout their kids' schools.
But many of them are outraged at the idea of putting an armed police officer in their kid's school. Our children are thousands of times more likely to be killed or seriously injured by school violence than fire, but the sheep's only response to the possibility of violence is denial. The idea of someone coming to kill or harm their child is just too hard, and so they chose the path of denial.
The sheep generally do not like the sheepdog. He looks a lot like the wolf. He has fangs and the capacity for violence. The difference, though, is that the sheepdog must not, can not and will not ever harm the sheep. Any sheep dog who intentionally harms the lowliest little lamb will be punished and removed. The world cannot work any other way, at least not in a representative democracy or a republic such as ours.
Still, the sheepdog disturbs the sheep. He is a constant reminder that there are wolves in the land. They would prefer that he didn't tell them where to go, or give them traffic tickets, or stand at the ready in our airports in camouflage fatigues holding an M-16. The sheep would much rather have the sheepdog cash in his fangs, spray paint himself white, and go, "Baa."
Until the wolf shows up. Then the entire flock tries desperately to hide behind one lonely sheepdog.
The students, the victims, at Columbine High School were big, tough high school students, and under ordinary circumstances they would not have had the time of day for a police officer. They were not bad kids; they just had nothing to say to a cop. When the school was under attack, however, and SWAT teams were clearing the rooms and hallways, the officers had to physically peel those clinging, sobbing kids off of them. This is how the little lambs feel about their sheepdog when the wolf is at the door.
Look at what happened after September 11, 2001 when the wolf pounded hard on the door. Remember how America, more than ever before, felt differently about their law enforcement officers and military personnel? Remember how many times you heard the word hero?
Understand that there is nothing morally superior about being a sheepdog; it is just what you choose to be. Also understand that a sheepdog is a funny critter: He is always sniffing around out on the perimeter, checking the breeze, barking at things that go bump in the night, and yearning for a righteous battle. That is, the young sheepdogs yearn for a righteous battle. The old sheepdogs are a little older and wiser, but they move to the sound of the guns when needed right along with the young ones.
Here is how the sheep and the sheepdog think differently. The sheep pretend the wolf will never come, but the sheepdog lives for that day. After the attacks on September 11, 2001, most of the sheep, that is, most citizens in America said, "Thank God I wasn't on one of those planes." The sheepdogs, the warriors, said, "Dear God, I wish I could have been on one of those planes. Maybe I could have made a difference." When you are truly transformed into a warrior and have truly invested yourself into warriorhood, you want to be there. You want to be able to make a difference.
There is nothing morally superior about the sheepdog, the warrior, but he does have one real advantage. Only one. And that is that he is able to survive and thrive in an environment that destroys 98 percent of the population. There was research conducted a few years ago with individuals convicted of violent crimes. These cons were in prison for serious, predatory crimes of violence: assaults, murders and killing law enforcement officers. The vast majority said that they specifically targeted victims by body language: slumped walk, passive behavior and lack of awareness. They chose their victims like big cats do in Africa, when they select one out of the herd that is least able to protect itself.
Some people may be destined to be sheep and others might be genetically primed to be wolves or sheepdogs. But I believe that most people can choose which one they want to be, and I'm proud to say that more and more Americans are choosing to become sheepdogs.
Seven months after the attack on September 11, 2001, Todd Beamer was honored in his hometown of Cranbury, New Jersey. Todd, as you recall, was the man on Flight 93 over Pennsylvania who called on his cell phone to alert an operator from United Airlines about the hijacking. When he learned of the other three passenger planes that had been used as weapons, Todd dropped his phone and uttered the words, "Let's roll," which authorities believe was a signal to the other passengers to confront the terrorist hijackers. In one hour, a transformation occurred among the passengers - athletes, business people and parents. -- from sheep to sheepdogs and together they fought the wolves, ultimately saving an unknown number of lives on the ground.
There is no safety for honest men except by believing all possible evil of evil men. - Edmund Burke
Here is the point I like to emphasize, especially to the thousands of police officers and soldiers I speak to each year. In nature the sheep, real sheep, are born as sheep. Sheepdogs are born that way, and so are wolves. They didn't have a choice. But you are not a critter. As a human being, you can be whatever you want to be. It is a conscious, moral decision.
If you want to be a sheep, then you can be a sheep and that is okay, but you must understand the price you pay. When the wolf comes, you and your loved ones are going to die if there is not a sheepdog there to protect you. If you want to be a wolf, you can be one, but the sheepdogs are going to hunt you down and you will never have rest, safety, trust or love. But if you want to be a sheepdog and walk the warrior's path, then you must make a conscious and moral decision every day to dedicate, equip and prepare yourself to thrive in that toxic, corrosive moment when the wolf comes knocking at the door.
For example, many officers carry their weapons in church.? They are well concealed in ankle holsters, shoulder holsters or inside-the-belt holsters tucked into the small of their backs.? Anytime you go to some form of religious service, there is a very good chance that a police officer in your congregation is carrying. You will never know if there is such an individual in your place of worship, until the wolf appears to massacre you and your loved ones.
I was training a group of police officers in Texas, and during the break, one officer asked his friend if he carried his weapon in church. The other cop replied, "I will never be caught without my gun in church." I asked why he felt so strongly about this, and he told me about a cop he knew who was at a church massacre in Ft. Worth, Texas in 1999. In that incident, a mentally deranged individual came into the church and opened fire, gunning down fourteen people. He said that officer believed he could have saved every life that day if he had been carrying his gun. His own son was shot, and all he could do was throw himself on the boy's body and wait to die. That cop looked me in the eye and said, "Do you have any idea how hard it would be to live with yourself after that?"
Some individuals would be horrified if they knew this police officer was carrying a weapon in church. They might call him paranoid and would probably scorn him. Yet these same individuals would be enraged and would call for "heads to roll" if they found out that the airbags in their cars were defective, or that the fire extinguisher and fire sprinklers in their kids' school did not work. They can accept the fact that fires and traffic accidents can happen and that there must be safeguards against them.
Their only response to the wolf, though, is denial, and all too often their response to the sheepdog is scorn and disdain. But the sheepdog quietly asks himself, "Do you have and idea how hard it would be to live with yourself if your loved ones attacked and killed, and you had to stand there helplessly because you were unprepared for that day?"
It is denial that turns people into sheep. Sheep are psychologically destroyed by combat because their only defense is denial, which is counterproductive and destructive, resulting in fear, helplessness and horror when the wolf shows up.
Denial kills you twice. It kills you once, at your moment of truth when you are not physically prepared: you didn't bring your gun, you didn't train. Your only defense was wishful thinking. Hope is not a strategy. Denial kills you a second time because even if you do physically survive, you are psychologically shattered by your fear helplessness and horror at your moment of truth.
Gavin de Becker puts it like this in Fear Less, his superb post-9/11 book, which should be required reading for anyone trying to come to terms with our current world situation: "...denial can be seductive, but it has an insidious side effect. For all the peace of mind deniers think they get by saying it isn't so, the fall they take when faced with new violence is all the more unsettling."
Denial is a save-now-pay-later scheme, a contract written entirely in small print, for in the long run, the denying person knows the truth on some level.
And so the warrior must strive to confront denial in all aspects of his life, and prepare himself for the day when evil comes. If you are warrior who is legally authorized to carry a weapon and you step outside without that weapon, then you become a sheep, pretending that the bad man will not come today. No one can be "on" 24/7, for a lifetime. Everyone needs down time. But if you are authorized to carry a weapon, and you walk outside without it, just take a deep breath, and say this to yourself...
"Baa."
This business of being a sheep or a sheep dog is not a yes-no dichotomy. It is not an all-or-nothing, either-or choice. It is a matter of degrees, a continuum. On one end is an abject, head-in-the-sand-sheep and on the other end is the ultimate warrior. Few people exist completely on one end or the other. Most of us live somewhere in between. Since 9-11 almost everyone in America took a step up that continuum, away from denial. The sheep took a few steps toward accepting and appreciating their warriors, and the warriors started taking their job more seriously. The degree to which you move up that continuum, away from sheephood and denial, is the degree to which you and your loved ones will survive, physically and psychologically at your moment of truth.
Why We Should All Care
Politics is boring but we're at a turning point in America. A point where we need to stand for what we think is right. Here's a good analogy to illustrate what I mean:
When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.
When they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.
When they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.
When they came for the Jews,
I remained silent;
I wasn't a Jew.
When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out.
When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.
When they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.
When they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.
When they came for the Jews,
I remained silent;
I wasn't a Jew.
When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out.
Margaret Thatcher Quotes
Watch your thoughts for they become words. Watch your words for they become actions. Watch your actions for they become... habits. Watch your habits, for they become your character. And watch your character, for it becomes your destiny! What we think we become. Margaret Thatcher
If you want to change this party, lead it. If you want to change the country, lead it. Airey Neave
We will stand on principle... or we will not stand at all. Margaret Thatcher
If you want to change this party, lead it. If you want to change the country, lead it. Airey Neave
We will stand on principle... or we will not stand at all. Margaret Thatcher
Krushchev's Advice
You know, when they forced Khrushchev out, he sat down and wrote two letters to his successor. He said - "When you get yourself into a situation you can't get out of, open the first letter, and you'll be safe. When you get yourself into another situation you can't get out of, open the second letter". Well, soon enough, this guy found himself into a tight place, so he opened the first letter. Which said - "Blame everything on me". So he blames the old man, it worked like a charm. He got himself into a second situation he couldn't get out of, he opened the second letter. It said - "Sit down, and write two letters". Unknown Author
Consumerism aka "Affluenza"
Here's some quotes I like from my Environmental Science studies. I think it's interesting they span a wide variety of religions and cultures yet all essentially say the same thing:
The constructive use of riches is better than their possession. Fortune cookie from Chinese restaurant
I close my eyes, only for a moment, and the moment's gone. All my dreams, pass before my eyes, a curiosity. Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind. Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea All we do, crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see. Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind. [Now] Don't hang on, nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky. It slips away, and all your money won't another minute buy. Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind. Dust in the wind, everything is dust in the wind. Kansas (folk music band)
The rich have excess supplies of the things they don't need, while millions live on the edge of hunger. If everyone would only own what they actually need, no one would have to live in poverty and everyone would be happy. Mahatma Gandhi
Miserable as we seem in thy eyes, we consider ourselves. . . much happier than thou, in this that we are very content with the little that we have. Micmac, American Indian Chief
Whoever in this world overcomes his selfish cravings, his sorrows fall away from him, like drops of water from a lotus flower. Dhammapada, Buddhist
It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. Mathew 19:23-24, Christian
Excess and deficiency are equally at fault. Confucius, Confucian
Nothing in excess. Inscription at the Oracle of Delphi
That person who lives completely free from desires, without longing. . . attains peace. Bhagavad-Gita, Hindu
Poverty is my pride. Muhammad, Islamic
Give me neither poverty nor riches. Proverbs 30:8, Jewish
He who knows he has enough is rich. Tao Te Ching, Taoist
A man is rich in proportion to the things he can let alone. Henry David Thoreau
Only after the last tree has been cut down, only after the last river has been poisoned, only after the last fish has been caught, only then will you find money cannot be eaten. Cree Prophecy
Treat the earth well; it was not given to you by your parents, it was loaned to you by your children. We do not inherit the Earth from our Ancestors; we borrow it from our Children. Ancient Indian Proverb
The constructive use of riches is better than their possession. Fortune cookie from Chinese restaurant
I close my eyes, only for a moment, and the moment's gone. All my dreams, pass before my eyes, a curiosity. Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind. Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea All we do, crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see. Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind. [Now] Don't hang on, nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky. It slips away, and all your money won't another minute buy. Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind. Dust in the wind, everything is dust in the wind. Kansas (folk music band)
The rich have excess supplies of the things they don't need, while millions live on the edge of hunger. If everyone would only own what they actually need, no one would have to live in poverty and everyone would be happy. Mahatma Gandhi
Miserable as we seem in thy eyes, we consider ourselves. . . much happier than thou, in this that we are very content with the little that we have. Micmac, American Indian Chief
Whoever in this world overcomes his selfish cravings, his sorrows fall away from him, like drops of water from a lotus flower. Dhammapada, Buddhist
It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. Mathew 19:23-24, Christian
Excess and deficiency are equally at fault. Confucius, Confucian
Nothing in excess. Inscription at the Oracle of Delphi
That person who lives completely free from desires, without longing. . . attains peace. Bhagavad-Gita, Hindu
Poverty is my pride. Muhammad, Islamic
Give me neither poverty nor riches. Proverbs 30:8, Jewish
He who knows he has enough is rich. Tao Te Ching, Taoist
A man is rich in proportion to the things he can let alone. Henry David Thoreau
Only after the last tree has been cut down, only after the last river has been poisoned, only after the last fish has been caught, only then will you find money cannot be eaten. Cree Prophecy
Treat the earth well; it was not given to you by your parents, it was loaned to you by your children. We do not inherit the Earth from our Ancestors; we borrow it from our Children. Ancient Indian Proverb
Why Dogs Don't Live as Long as Humans
Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owner, his wife, and their little boy were all very attached to Belker and they were hoping for a miracle. I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family there were no miracles left for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.
As we made arrangements, the owners told me they thought it would be\ good for the four-year-old boy to observe the procedure. They felt he could learn something from the experience.
The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's family surrounded him. The little boy seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on.
Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away. The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker's death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives. The little boy, who had been listening quietly, piped up, "I know why."
Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation. He said, "Everybody is born so that they can learn how to live a good life - like loving everybody and being nice, right?" The four-year-old continued, "Well, animals already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long." Unknown Author
As we made arrangements, the owners told me they thought it would be\ good for the four-year-old boy to observe the procedure. They felt he could learn something from the experience.
The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's family surrounded him. The little boy seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on.
Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away. The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker's death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives. The little boy, who had been listening quietly, piped up, "I know why."
Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation. He said, "Everybody is born so that they can learn how to live a good life - like loving everybody and being nice, right?" The four-year-old continued, "Well, animals already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long." Unknown Author
Lend me a Pup
I will lend to you for awhile a puppy, God said, for you to love him while he lives and to mourn for him when he is gone. Maybe for twelve or fourteen years, or maybe for two or three. But will you, till I call him back take care of him for me ?
He'll bring his charms to gladden you and (should his stay be brief) you'll always have his memories as solace for your grief. I cannot promise that he will stay, since all from earth return, But there are lessons taught below I want this pup to learn.
I've looked the whole world over in search of teachers true and from the folk that crowd life's land I have chosen you. Now will you give him all your love , nor think the labour vain, nor hate me when I come to take my pup back again.
I fancied that I heard them say "Dear Lord Thy WIll Be Done," for all the joys this pup will bring, the risk of grief you'll run. Will you shelter him with tenderness, will you love him while you may and for the happiness you'll know forever grateful stay.
But should I call him back much sooner than you've planned. Please brave the bitter grief that comes and try to understand. if, by your love, you've managed my wishes to achieve, in memory of him that you've loved, cherish every moment with your faithful bundle, and know he loved you too. Unknown Author
He'll bring his charms to gladden you and (should his stay be brief) you'll always have his memories as solace for your grief. I cannot promise that he will stay, since all from earth return, But there are lessons taught below I want this pup to learn.
I've looked the whole world over in search of teachers true and from the folk that crowd life's land I have chosen you. Now will you give him all your love , nor think the labour vain, nor hate me when I come to take my pup back again.
I fancied that I heard them say "Dear Lord Thy WIll Be Done," for all the joys this pup will bring, the risk of grief you'll run. Will you shelter him with tenderness, will you love him while you may and for the happiness you'll know forever grateful stay.
But should I call him back much sooner than you've planned. Please brave the bitter grief that comes and try to understand. if, by your love, you've managed my wishes to achieve, in memory of him that you've loved, cherish every moment with your faithful bundle, and know he loved you too. Unknown Author
What you Should do in a Terrorist Attack
Here are some actual warning signs the US Government has along with some funny interpretations:
What to do in a Terrorist Attack (95KB)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)