Saturday, February 04, 2012
Friday, February 03, 2012
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Quote | Goodmorning & Goodnight - Page 10
Quote | Goodmorning & Goodnight - Page 10: “Everyone has a secret they haven’t shared. Everyone has a past no one’s heard about. Everyone has talents that people don’t notice. Everyone has weaknesses hidden inside. Everyone has a story left untold, so never start judging someone thinking you know them back to front. Because the truth is, you probably don’t.”
Quote | Goodmorning & Goodnight - Page 9
Quote | Goodmorning & Goodnight - Page 9: “It is curious that physical courage should be so common in the world and moral courage so rare.” ~Mark Twain
Quote | Goodmorning & Goodnight - Page 8
Quote | Goodmorning & Goodnight - Page 8: “It Takes as Much Energy to Wish as it Does to Plan.” ~Eleanor Roosevelt
Quote | Goodmorning & Goodnight - Page 7
Quote | Goodmorning & Goodnight - Page 7: “When we hold each other, in the darkness, it doesn’t make the darkness go away. The bad things are still out there. The nightmares still walking. When we hold each other we feel not safe, but better. “It’s all right” we whisper, “I’m here, I love you.” and we lie: “I’ll never leave you.” For just a moment or two the darkness doesn’t seem so bad.” ~Neil Gaiman
Quote | Goodmorning & Goodnight - Page 6
Quote | Goodmorning & Goodnight - Page 6: “Imagine there is a bank account that credits your account each morning with $86,400. It carries over no balance from day to day. Every evening the bank deletes whatever part of the balance you failed to use during the day. What would you do? Draw out every cent, of course? Each of us has such a bank. Its name is time. Every morning, it credits you with 86,400 seconds. Every night it writes off as lost, whatever of this you have failed to invest to a good purpose. It carries over no balance. It allows no over draft. Each day it opens a new account for you. Each night it burns the remains of the day. If you fail to use the day’s deposits, the loss is yours. There is no drawing against “tomorrow”. You must live in the present on today’s deposits. Invest it so as to get from it the utmost in health, happiness and success. The clock is running. Make the most of today.”
Quote | Goodmorning & Goodnight - Page 5
Quote | Goodmorning & Goodnight - Page 5: “May I see the things in front of me as they are, not as I think them to be.
May I walk the steps ahead of me one at a time, not wondering if there’s a map.
May I say the things that fix things, not break them further apart.
May I do what I need to do, not be distracted by what I can’t.
May I dream of what I hope for, not of what I fear.
May I love you like I love you, not as any other, me.”
May I walk the steps ahead of me one at a time, not wondering if there’s a map.
May I say the things that fix things, not break them further apart.
May I do what I need to do, not be distracted by what I can’t.
May I dream of what I hope for, not of what I fear.
May I love you like I love you, not as any other, me.”
Quote | Goodmorning & Goodnight - Page 4
Quote | Goodmorning & Goodnight - Page 4: “I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.”
~Variation On The Word Sleep by Margret Atwood
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.”
~Variation On The Word Sleep by Margret Atwood
Quote | Goodmorning & Goodnight - Page 4
Quote | Goodmorning & Goodnight - Page 4: “But I love your feet
only because they walked
upon the earth and upon
the wind and upon the waters,
until they found me.”
~Pablo Neruda
only because they walked
upon the earth and upon
the wind and upon the waters,
until they found me.”
~Pablo Neruda
Quote | Goodmorning & Goodnight - Page 3
Quote | Goodmorning & Goodnight - Page 3: “I’m not the silly romantic you think. I don’t want the heavens or the shooting stars. I don’t want gemstones or gold. I have those things already. I want…a steady hand. A kind soul. I want to fall asleep, and wake, knowing my heart is safe. I want to love, and be loved.”
shana abe
shana abe
Saturday, January 07, 2012
FORGOTTEN PROPHETS
FORGOTTEN PROPHETS My Dick
It occurs to me that I have not been speaking enough in recent days about my dick. My dick is powerful. It loves oatmeal and has a cholesterol level of 7. My dick is ambidextrous. It can do backflips and can deadlift 115 pounds. It can tell the difference between every type of American southwest elm trees with 100% accuracy. It was once runner up on a Jeopardy! celebrity edition, and shook Alex Trebek's hand. It tastes like a gingerbread man, with a hint of cinnamon. My dick can drive a motorcycle. It once dug a hole through 3 feet of river ice so it could go fishing. It is vegetarian. My dick can type 87 words per minute. It is an expert in Bulgarian pop culture. In a fight with a hammerhead shark, my dick won. People claim that they have seen it breathe fire. It would be on Mount Rushmore, but there wasn't enough room. Everyone respects and is in awe of my dick, especially women and gays. It is the best dick that has ever lived.
It occurs to me that I have not been speaking enough in recent days about my dick. My dick is powerful. It loves oatmeal and has a cholesterol level of 7. My dick is ambidextrous. It can do backflips and can deadlift 115 pounds. It can tell the difference between every type of American southwest elm trees with 100% accuracy. It was once runner up on a Jeopardy! celebrity edition, and shook Alex Trebek's hand. It tastes like a gingerbread man, with a hint of cinnamon. My dick can drive a motorcycle. It once dug a hole through 3 feet of river ice so it could go fishing. It is vegetarian. My dick can type 87 words per minute. It is an expert in Bulgarian pop culture. In a fight with a hammerhead shark, my dick won. People claim that they have seen it breathe fire. It would be on Mount Rushmore, but there wasn't enough room. Everyone respects and is in awe of my dick, especially women and gays. It is the best dick that has ever lived.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Sunday, December 04, 2011
Saturday, December 03, 2011
Mme Scherzo
Mme Scherzo:
Watch your tongue---------Keep silence
For when the reason’s dull, the mind depressed,
He best doth speak who keeps his silence best.
Pedro Calder�n de la Barca, Life is a Dream (via vandegraaff)
Watch your tongue---------Keep silence
For when the reason’s dull, the mind depressed,
He best doth speak who keeps his silence best.
Pedro Calder�n de la Barca, Life is a Dream (via vandegraaff)
Mme Scherzo
Mme Scherzo
Description of ISLAM
“How dreadful are the curses which Mohammedanism lays on its votaries! Besides the fanatical frenzy, which is as dangerous in a man as hydrophobia in a dog, there is this fearful fatalistic apathy. The effects are apparent in many countries, improvident habits, slovenly systems of agriculture, sluggish methods of commerce, and insecurity of property exist wherever the followers of the Prophet rule or live.
A degraded sensualism deprives this life of its grace and refinement, the next of its dignity and sanctity. The fact that in Mohammedan law every woman must belong to some man as his absolute property, either as a child, a wife, or a concubine, must delay the final extinction of slavery until the faith of Islam has ceased to be a great power among men.
Individual Muslims may show splendid qualities, but the influence of the religion paralyses the social development of those who follow it.
No stronger retrograde force exists in the world. Far from being moribund, Mohammedanism is a militant and proselytizing faith. It has already spread throughout Central Africa, raising fearless warriors at every step; and were it not that Christianity is sheltered in the strong arms of science, the science against which it had vainly struggled, the civilization of modern Europe might fall, as fell the civilization of ancient Rome.”
Sir Winston Churchill, The River War, 1899 - first edition, Vol. II, pages 248-50
Description of ISLAM
“How dreadful are the curses which Mohammedanism lays on its votaries! Besides the fanatical frenzy, which is as dangerous in a man as hydrophobia in a dog, there is this fearful fatalistic apathy. The effects are apparent in many countries, improvident habits, slovenly systems of agriculture, sluggish methods of commerce, and insecurity of property exist wherever the followers of the Prophet rule or live.
A degraded sensualism deprives this life of its grace and refinement, the next of its dignity and sanctity. The fact that in Mohammedan law every woman must belong to some man as his absolute property, either as a child, a wife, or a concubine, must delay the final extinction of slavery until the faith of Islam has ceased to be a great power among men.
Individual Muslims may show splendid qualities, but the influence of the religion paralyses the social development of those who follow it.
No stronger retrograde force exists in the world. Far from being moribund, Mohammedanism is a militant and proselytizing faith. It has already spread throughout Central Africa, raising fearless warriors at every step; and were it not that Christianity is sheltered in the strong arms of science, the science against which it had vainly struggled, the civilization of modern Europe might fall, as fell the civilization of ancient Rome.”
Sir Winston Churchill, The River War, 1899 - first edition, Vol. II, pages 248-50
Thursday, December 01, 2011
On Healing Wings
On Healing Wings: Does God want us to suffer? What if the answer to that question is ‘yes’?
You see, I don’t think that God particularly wants us to be happy. I think He wants us to love and be loved. He wants us to grow up. You see, we are like children who think that our toys bring us all the happiness there is, and that our nursery is the whole wide world. But something has to drive us out into the world of others, and that thing is suffering. Put simply, pain is God’s megaphone to rouse a deaf world. We are like blocks of stone from which the Sculptor carves a form.
The blows of His chisel which hurt us so much are what make us perfect.
—C.S. Lewis, Shadowlands
You see, I don’t think that God particularly wants us to be happy. I think He wants us to love and be loved. He wants us to grow up. You see, we are like children who think that our toys bring us all the happiness there is, and that our nursery is the whole wide world. But something has to drive us out into the world of others, and that thing is suffering. Put simply, pain is God’s megaphone to rouse a deaf world. We are like blocks of stone from which the Sculptor carves a form.
The blows of His chisel which hurt us so much are what make us perfect.
—C.S. Lewis, Shadowlands
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Mme Scherzo - There are three classes of people: those who see,...
Mme Scherzo - There are three classes of people: those who see,...:
There are three classes of people: those who see, those who see when they are shown, those who do not see.
Leonardo da Vinci
There are three classes of people: those who see, those who see when they are shown, those who do not see.
Leonardo da Vinci
Mme Scherzo
Mme Scherzo:
Behold your paradise of free sex and love without the constraints of marital bondage!
Fatherless children who have no bonds, no loyalties, no inheritance. They are largely uneducated, violent and poor.
Their own futures are limited by the lack of leadership that they can emulate from a father showing them how to work, provide, build and love.
It is a tragedy. And it is our future destruction.
Our children, born of mothers who are unmarried, unloved, uneducated and poor, will become the class of thugs who eagerly do a tyrant’s bidding.
~Mme Scherzo http://madamescherzo.tumblr.com
Behold your paradise of free sex and love without the constraints of marital bondage!
Fatherless children who have no bonds, no loyalties, no inheritance. They are largely uneducated, violent and poor.
Their own futures are limited by the lack of leadership that they can emulate from a father showing them how to work, provide, build and love.
It is a tragedy. And it is our future destruction.
Our children, born of mothers who are unmarried, unloved, uneducated and poor, will become the class of thugs who eagerly do a tyrant’s bidding.
~Mme Scherzo http://madamescherzo.tumblr.com
Christopher Hitchens: Unspoken Truths | Culture | Vanity Fair
Christopher Hitchens: Unspoken Truths | Culture | Vanity Fair:
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
—T. S. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.”
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
—T. S. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.”
Saturday, November 26, 2011
On Healing Wings
On Healing Wings: prayer
We do not presume to come to this your table, merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in your manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under your table, but you are the same Lord whose property is always to have mercy.
—Thomas Cramner, Book of Common Prayer
We do not presume to come to this your table, merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in your manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under your table, but you are the same Lord whose property is always to have mercy.
—Thomas Cramner, Book of Common Prayer
Friday, November 25, 2011
Mme Scherzo
Mme Scherzo:
But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7)
But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7)
Thursday, November 24, 2011
On Healing Wings
On Healing Wings
A real Christian is an odd number anyway.
He feels supreme love for one whom he has never seen;
talks familiarly every day to someone he cannot see;
expects to go to heaven on the virtue of another;
empties himself in order to be full;
admits he is wrong so he can be declared right;
goes down in order to get up;
is strongest when he is weakest;
richest when he is poorest;
and happiest when he feels the worst.
He dies so he can live;
forsakes in order to have;
gives away so he can keep;
sees the invisible,
hears the inaudible,
and knows that which passes knowledge.
The man who has met God is not looking for anything; he has found it. He is not searching for light, for upon him the light has already shined. His certainty may seem bigoted, but his assurance is that of one who knows by experience his religion is not hearsay. He is not a copy, not a facsimile. He is an original from the hand of the Holy Spirit.
—A.W. Tozer (1897-1963)
A real Christian is an odd number anyway.
He feels supreme love for one whom he has never seen;
talks familiarly every day to someone he cannot see;
expects to go to heaven on the virtue of another;
empties himself in order to be full;
admits he is wrong so he can be declared right;
goes down in order to get up;
is strongest when he is weakest;
richest when he is poorest;
and happiest when he feels the worst.
He dies so he can live;
forsakes in order to have;
gives away so he can keep;
sees the invisible,
hears the inaudible,
and knows that which passes knowledge.
The man who has met God is not looking for anything; he has found it. He is not searching for light, for upon him the light has already shined. His certainty may seem bigoted, but his assurance is that of one who knows by experience his religion is not hearsay. He is not a copy, not a facsimile. He is an original from the hand of the Holy Spirit.
—A.W. Tozer (1897-1963)
On Healing Wings
On Healing Wings: May I be poor, afflicted, despised and have thy blessing, rather than be successful in enterprise, or have more than my heart can wish, or be admired by my fellow-men, if thereby these things make me forget thee.
May I regard the world as dreams, lies, vanities, vexation of spirit, and desires to depart from it. And may I seek my happiness in thy favour, image, presence, service.
—The Valley of Vision
(Source: cierabgardner)
Via Prone to Wander
May I regard the world as dreams, lies, vanities, vexation of spirit, and desires to depart from it. And may I seek my happiness in thy favour, image, presence, service.
—The Valley of Vision
(Source: cierabgardner)
Via Prone to Wander
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Mme Scherzo
Mme Scherzo: We are born knowing nothing and with much striving we learn but a little; yet all the while we are bound by laws that hearken to no plea of ignorance, and measure out their rewards and punishments with calm indifference. In such a state, humility is the virtue of men, and their only defense; to walk humbly with God, never doubting, whatever befall, that His will is good, and that His law is right.
Mme Scherzo
Mme Scherzo: We are born knowing nothing and with much striving we learn but a little; yet all the while we are bound by laws that hearken to no plea of ignorance, and measure out their rewards and punishments with calm indifference. In such a state, humility is the virtue of men, and their only defense; to walk humbly with God, never doubting, whatever befall, that His will is good, and that His law is right.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
words are my euphoria
words are my euphoria:
"If ever there is tomorrow when we’re not together.. there is something you must always remember, you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we’re apart.. I’ll always be with you."
— Winnie the Pooh
(Source: silenceismyeuphoria)
"If ever there is tomorrow when we’re not together.. there is something you must always remember, you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we’re apart.. I’ll always be with you."
— Winnie the Pooh
(Source: silenceismyeuphoria)
Saturday, November 19, 2011
AMERICAN DIGEST: Comment on Notes on Love and Death
AMERICAN DIGEST: Comment on Notes on Love and Death:
In every government, though terrors reign,
Though tyrant kings, or tyrant laws restrain,
How small, of all that human hearts endure,
That part which laws or kings can cause or cure!
In every government, though terrors reign,
Though tyrant kings, or tyrant laws restrain,
How small, of all that human hearts endure,
That part which laws or kings can cause or cure!
Notes on Love and Death @ AMERICAN DIGEST
Notes on Love and Death @ AMERICAN DIGEST
"The Politics of life are easy. It's the Poetics that are tough."
I'm still working out what I meant when I wrote that. It'll take me life plus 99 years.
The Poetics of life are much more persistent in their knocking at the door of your inner self than the Politics. Politics have their seasons, but the Poetics are our constant companions, waking and sleeping, thinking and dreaming. In a very real sense, since they run deeper than the Politics, the Poetics are the Politics' power source. But what are the Poetics about? Simply put, they are "like all Greek songs, about love and death."
I've done a dance or two with death over the years. I've found that he's not very graceful and he always wants to lead.
Once, during a long-lost summer, I was the night driver for a hearse at a mortuary. In the wee small hours of the morning, I'd drive the on-duty mortician to pick up a man or a woman's or a child's body from wherever it had become just a body. In the hot California delta night I'd drive the mortician, both of us in Blues Brothers suits, to a hospital basement, a home bedroom, a city morgue, or, one time, to a shabby skid row hotel where the leaking wicker basket holding the suicide had to be held vertically in the creaking ancient elevator for all eight slow floors.
I've been alone in the waiting room with my mother when the surgeon, still drying his hands on a towel, walked through the door and said, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Van der Leun, but we just couldn't stop the bleeding."
I've stood in a room high above Central Park West where the only sound was a death rattle in an old man's throat, and told the doctor on the telephone that there was really no reason to send the emergency resuscitation crew for the twelfth time in half as many months. I sat quietly holding the old man's hand for around thirty minutes until his breathing stopped. Then I left that room, told my in-laws he was dead, and watched them mask their expressions of relief.
I've found my name carved into the stone monument at Battery Park that lists those that died at sea during the Second World War. I've found the names of two men I went to high school with carved on the Vietnam wall in Washington.
If I'd managed to keep one address book for my contemporaries since graduating from high school, it would, as they say, be beginning to fill up with dead people and that rate would increase.
I've stood on the Promenade on the Heights and seen two towers fall and reduce thousands of people to ash and dust in what seemed like less time than it has taken you to read to this period.
I have sometimes, I confess, "been half in love with easeful death," but no one living escapes that siren call. The trick there is to lash yourself to the mast of the day, pray, and somehow, through the grace of God, just sail on by.
By now, like many others of my age, I've seen death personally and professionally, retail and wholesale. There really is, when you move with it, nothing to love about the dance of death. The only response is, as Prufrock knew, to see "the eternal Footman hold my coat and snicker, and in short, I was afraid."
So I know something -- not a lot, but something -- about that old Greek theme of death and it scares me about as much as it should scare, I imagine, any man. And, having now briefly been dead, the fear is perhaps less shrill but more persistent; a tempo of a fading drum heard far off, cast back over the horizon but still approaching.
What I know increasingly little about, and what really frightens me, is the other theme of the Greek songs, love. These days it seems that it will take more than a lifetime to figure love out.
Love frightens me because, unlike death, love cannot be understood. Love can only be given, gotten, taken or dropped. Like death, it would seem that, once discovered, there's no end to it -- or, to take Hemingway's point of view, no good end to it since one way or another death will trump love -- in this world at least.
Love is where the Poetics of life collide with the Politics. It's a collision where the possibility having to call in the MedEvac helicopter and the coroner is always present; where wreckage is assured and survival never promised. Falling in love is, as a comedian noted, like buying a puppy. You are purchasing a tragedy.
No, that's not quite right. Say rather you are purchasing a hybrid; a tragicomedy or a comic tragedy, since love always has, for those of us removed from its immediate drama, elements of the ridiculous, slices of the sublime, and not a few moments of boffo laughter at the shambling human animal.
Still, it would be nice if I could understand the nature of love and my absurd role in the love dramas of my life. If the joke, in the end, is on me it would be nice to be able to say that I "get it."
Nice but not, I think, necessary. Even if I never get it, I do know one thing for certain about love, "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."
"The Politics of life are easy. It's the Poetics that are tough."
I'm still working out what I meant when I wrote that. It'll take me life plus 99 years.
The Poetics of life are much more persistent in their knocking at the door of your inner self than the Politics. Politics have their seasons, but the Poetics are our constant companions, waking and sleeping, thinking and dreaming. In a very real sense, since they run deeper than the Politics, the Poetics are the Politics' power source. But what are the Poetics about? Simply put, they are "like all Greek songs, about love and death."
I've done a dance or two with death over the years. I've found that he's not very graceful and he always wants to lead.
Once, during a long-lost summer, I was the night driver for a hearse at a mortuary. In the wee small hours of the morning, I'd drive the on-duty mortician to pick up a man or a woman's or a child's body from wherever it had become just a body. In the hot California delta night I'd drive the mortician, both of us in Blues Brothers suits, to a hospital basement, a home bedroom, a city morgue, or, one time, to a shabby skid row hotel where the leaking wicker basket holding the suicide had to be held vertically in the creaking ancient elevator for all eight slow floors.
I've been alone in the waiting room with my mother when the surgeon, still drying his hands on a towel, walked through the door and said, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Van der Leun, but we just couldn't stop the bleeding."
I've stood in a room high above Central Park West where the only sound was a death rattle in an old man's throat, and told the doctor on the telephone that there was really no reason to send the emergency resuscitation crew for the twelfth time in half as many months. I sat quietly holding the old man's hand for around thirty minutes until his breathing stopped. Then I left that room, told my in-laws he was dead, and watched them mask their expressions of relief.
I've found my name carved into the stone monument at Battery Park that lists those that died at sea during the Second World War. I've found the names of two men I went to high school with carved on the Vietnam wall in Washington.
If I'd managed to keep one address book for my contemporaries since graduating from high school, it would, as they say, be beginning to fill up with dead people and that rate would increase.
I've stood on the Promenade on the Heights and seen two towers fall and reduce thousands of people to ash and dust in what seemed like less time than it has taken you to read to this period.
I have sometimes, I confess, "been half in love with easeful death," but no one living escapes that siren call. The trick there is to lash yourself to the mast of the day, pray, and somehow, through the grace of God, just sail on by.
By now, like many others of my age, I've seen death personally and professionally, retail and wholesale. There really is, when you move with it, nothing to love about the dance of death. The only response is, as Prufrock knew, to see "the eternal Footman hold my coat and snicker, and in short, I was afraid."
So I know something -- not a lot, but something -- about that old Greek theme of death and it scares me about as much as it should scare, I imagine, any man. And, having now briefly been dead, the fear is perhaps less shrill but more persistent; a tempo of a fading drum heard far off, cast back over the horizon but still approaching.
What I know increasingly little about, and what really frightens me, is the other theme of the Greek songs, love. These days it seems that it will take more than a lifetime to figure love out.
Love frightens me because, unlike death, love cannot be understood. Love can only be given, gotten, taken or dropped. Like death, it would seem that, once discovered, there's no end to it -- or, to take Hemingway's point of view, no good end to it since one way or another death will trump love -- in this world at least.
Love is where the Poetics of life collide with the Politics. It's a collision where the possibility having to call in the MedEvac helicopter and the coroner is always present; where wreckage is assured and survival never promised. Falling in love is, as a comedian noted, like buying a puppy. You are purchasing a tragedy.
No, that's not quite right. Say rather you are purchasing a hybrid; a tragicomedy or a comic tragedy, since love always has, for those of us removed from its immediate drama, elements of the ridiculous, slices of the sublime, and not a few moments of boffo laughter at the shambling human animal.
Still, it would be nice if I could understand the nature of love and my absurd role in the love dramas of my life. If the joke, in the end, is on me it would be nice to be able to say that I "get it."
Nice but not, I think, necessary. Even if I never get it, I do know one thing for certain about love, "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Monday, November 14, 2011
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Mme Scherzo - ON SANDUSKY AND THIS NATION OF COWARDS
Mme Scherzo - ON SANDUSKY AND THIS NATION OF COWARDS
ON SANDUSKY AND THIS NATION OF COWARDS
POSTED BY ANN BARNHARDT -
NOVEMBER 8, AD 2011 8:09 PM MST
I read the grand jury report on Penn State football coach Jerry Sandusky and couldn’t believe what I was reading. I’m not going to link to it because it is awful. If you want to read it you can find it yourself. It wasn’t the fact that Sandusky was a pedophile that was so shocking. We all know about the horror of pedophilia and that it exists in the world. No, what really shook me were the actions of the people around Sandusky - and two of those people in particular.
One was a 28 year old (at the time) graduate assistant in the Penn State football program. He testified before the grand jury, and the grand jury found him to be “extremely credible”. This grad assistant testified that he literally walked in on Sandusky anally raping a ten year old boy in the Penn State football locker room showers. Right in the middle of the act itself. He even testified that both Sandusky and the child turned and looked at him - in the middle of the rape act.
What did this grad assistant do? He ran away. He ran away from a child in the midst of being raped. The next day he went to Joe Paterno’s house and told Joe Paterno what he saw. In this we have the proof that Joe Paterno KNEW what Sandusky was, and he basically let it slide. For this, Joe Paterno deserves not only to lose his job, but he also deserves to spend some time in prison. Aw, but he’s a kind old man. That may be. But that “kind old man” let a man whom he KNEW to be a child rapist to have the run of his football facility.
What should Joe Paterno have done, you may ask. Well, let’s look to history. Have you ever noticed, or thought it strange, that there is no significant mention of child rapists in the courts or prisons in Western Civilization up until about 100 years ago? Why do you think this is? Is it because sex crimes against children are a recent invention? No. The difference is that up until recently, society was healthy enough that it was able to police itself when necessary. When men were caught, and I mean CAUGHT IN THE ACT, like Sandusky, of raping a child, justice was carried out almost instantaneously. There was no need to involve the courts and humiliate and further traumatize the poor child. The crime was eyewitnessed, and the penalty was an absolute given. And so, the men of the community would discreetly either shoot or hang the pedophile. And it was over. The child could move on, and the men in the community moved on secure in the knowledge that the pedophile would never harm another child, with most of the community remaining unscandalized having known nothing about it, and the pedophile, knowing that he was about to die, was also afforded the mercy of the knowledge and understanding of the urgent need for his repentance and to earnestly beg God’s forgiveness before he died. This was, by far, the best possible outcome for all concerned.
But what do we do today? Apparently, most people do nothing. They are too narcissistic, too greedy, and too cowardly to act, even if it means to save a child who is being raped. Joe Paterno was more concerned with his reputation and Penn State’s reputation, and so he watered down Sandusky’s crime to mere “horseplay” and let it slide. Joe Paterno spent YEARS sitting in meetings, palling around, back-slapping, glad-handing and socializing with a man he KNEW to be a child rapist. The mind reels. And I’ll say it again: Paterno should spend some time in prison, as should anyone who aids and abets a pedophile.
Now back to the grad assistant. He wasn’t alone. There was another instance in exactly the same showers when a janitor walked in on Sandusky orally raping another young boy of about 11 years of age. This janitor was so shaken by the grotesquery of what he had seen, even remarking to his co-workers that it was far worse than the intense combat carnage he saw in Vietnam, that his co-workers thought the man was going to have a heart attack. But again, what did the janitor do upon catching Sandusky? He RAN AWAY. He didn’t try to stop any of it. He just ran.
And this is a microcosm of the problem with our culture and why it is collapsing. There is evil in the world, and up until recently, we Christians had the strength and moral authority to not just confront evil, but to literally run at it in a full battle charge when we came across it. That is what we are supposed to do. Those men should have each rushed Sandusky and then either beat him into unconsciousness or broken his arms and legs, thus immobilizing him. They should have then covered and secured the child, and then called 911. But these men were so cowed by their own self-absorption, with both admitting to have feared for their respective positions at the time, that they literally ran away from a child in the midst of being brutally raped.
This is a sick and yet pristine allegory for what is happening to this culture on a macro scale today. We SEE what those “in power”, like Sandusky, are doing. We keep catching them in flagrante dilecto and are so overcome with fear, so far removed from Christ and His strength, that we do NOTHING. We slink away into the shadows of self-preservation. And more children are slaughtered. And more Mexican civilians are killed. And more money is stolen. And more mosques are built.
And so, to finish out the allegory, I am the person who came around that corner and saw the child being raped, and instead of running away and keeping my job, I bayonet-charged the rapist like a mercenary honey badger. There is no guarantee that I will be successful. My enemies are now simultaneously the Obama regime and the entire muslim death cult.
BUT, can you IMAGINE how those two boys felt when they saw a man there who could save them, and then seeing that man run away? The wound from that might have been worse than the wound from Sandusky himself. Those boys knew Sandusky was a pervert. What must have been hell for them was trying to figure out why the men who COULD have saved them, didn’t. Being abandoned is far, far worse than being violently attacked. You can get your head around being violently attacked - the violent attacker wants something from you. Abandonment simply says, “You’re not worth it.” Even if those men had just stood there and screamed at Sandusky, at least those boys would have known that someone gave a crap about them.
I guess you could say that what I’m doing between my private war against islam and my tax strike is trying to leave a record that someone actually gave a crap.
Sorry to have conceitedly worked myself into the allegory, but the “put yourself in those shoes” lesson about cowardice jumped out at me as being very instructive. Pray for Sandusky’s victims, which as of this writing are now numbered at over twenty boys. There will likely be more, as Sandusky was a stone-cold predator who had plenty of people “throwing blocks” for him.
I’ve no words.
ON SANDUSKY AND THIS NATION OF COWARDS
POSTED BY ANN BARNHARDT -
NOVEMBER 8, AD 2011 8:09 PM MST
I read the grand jury report on Penn State football coach Jerry Sandusky and couldn’t believe what I was reading. I’m not going to link to it because it is awful. If you want to read it you can find it yourself. It wasn’t the fact that Sandusky was a pedophile that was so shocking. We all know about the horror of pedophilia and that it exists in the world. No, what really shook me were the actions of the people around Sandusky - and two of those people in particular.
One was a 28 year old (at the time) graduate assistant in the Penn State football program. He testified before the grand jury, and the grand jury found him to be “extremely credible”. This grad assistant testified that he literally walked in on Sandusky anally raping a ten year old boy in the Penn State football locker room showers. Right in the middle of the act itself. He even testified that both Sandusky and the child turned and looked at him - in the middle of the rape act.
What did this grad assistant do? He ran away. He ran away from a child in the midst of being raped. The next day he went to Joe Paterno’s house and told Joe Paterno what he saw. In this we have the proof that Joe Paterno KNEW what Sandusky was, and he basically let it slide. For this, Joe Paterno deserves not only to lose his job, but he also deserves to spend some time in prison. Aw, but he’s a kind old man. That may be. But that “kind old man” let a man whom he KNEW to be a child rapist to have the run of his football facility.
What should Joe Paterno have done, you may ask. Well, let’s look to history. Have you ever noticed, or thought it strange, that there is no significant mention of child rapists in the courts or prisons in Western Civilization up until about 100 years ago? Why do you think this is? Is it because sex crimes against children are a recent invention? No. The difference is that up until recently, society was healthy enough that it was able to police itself when necessary. When men were caught, and I mean CAUGHT IN THE ACT, like Sandusky, of raping a child, justice was carried out almost instantaneously. There was no need to involve the courts and humiliate and further traumatize the poor child. The crime was eyewitnessed, and the penalty was an absolute given. And so, the men of the community would discreetly either shoot or hang the pedophile. And it was over. The child could move on, and the men in the community moved on secure in the knowledge that the pedophile would never harm another child, with most of the community remaining unscandalized having known nothing about it, and the pedophile, knowing that he was about to die, was also afforded the mercy of the knowledge and understanding of the urgent need for his repentance and to earnestly beg God’s forgiveness before he died. This was, by far, the best possible outcome for all concerned.
But what do we do today? Apparently, most people do nothing. They are too narcissistic, too greedy, and too cowardly to act, even if it means to save a child who is being raped. Joe Paterno was more concerned with his reputation and Penn State’s reputation, and so he watered down Sandusky’s crime to mere “horseplay” and let it slide. Joe Paterno spent YEARS sitting in meetings, palling around, back-slapping, glad-handing and socializing with a man he KNEW to be a child rapist. The mind reels. And I’ll say it again: Paterno should spend some time in prison, as should anyone who aids and abets a pedophile.
Now back to the grad assistant. He wasn’t alone. There was another instance in exactly the same showers when a janitor walked in on Sandusky orally raping another young boy of about 11 years of age. This janitor was so shaken by the grotesquery of what he had seen, even remarking to his co-workers that it was far worse than the intense combat carnage he saw in Vietnam, that his co-workers thought the man was going to have a heart attack. But again, what did the janitor do upon catching Sandusky? He RAN AWAY. He didn’t try to stop any of it. He just ran.
And this is a microcosm of the problem with our culture and why it is collapsing. There is evil in the world, and up until recently, we Christians had the strength and moral authority to not just confront evil, but to literally run at it in a full battle charge when we came across it. That is what we are supposed to do. Those men should have each rushed Sandusky and then either beat him into unconsciousness or broken his arms and legs, thus immobilizing him. They should have then covered and secured the child, and then called 911. But these men were so cowed by their own self-absorption, with both admitting to have feared for their respective positions at the time, that they literally ran away from a child in the midst of being brutally raped.
This is a sick and yet pristine allegory for what is happening to this culture on a macro scale today. We SEE what those “in power”, like Sandusky, are doing. We keep catching them in flagrante dilecto and are so overcome with fear, so far removed from Christ and His strength, that we do NOTHING. We slink away into the shadows of self-preservation. And more children are slaughtered. And more Mexican civilians are killed. And more money is stolen. And more mosques are built.
And so, to finish out the allegory, I am the person who came around that corner and saw the child being raped, and instead of running away and keeping my job, I bayonet-charged the rapist like a mercenary honey badger. There is no guarantee that I will be successful. My enemies are now simultaneously the Obama regime and the entire muslim death cult.
BUT, can you IMAGINE how those two boys felt when they saw a man there who could save them, and then seeing that man run away? The wound from that might have been worse than the wound from Sandusky himself. Those boys knew Sandusky was a pervert. What must have been hell for them was trying to figure out why the men who COULD have saved them, didn’t. Being abandoned is far, far worse than being violently attacked. You can get your head around being violently attacked - the violent attacker wants something from you. Abandonment simply says, “You’re not worth it.” Even if those men had just stood there and screamed at Sandusky, at least those boys would have known that someone gave a crap about them.
I guess you could say that what I’m doing between my private war against islam and my tax strike is trying to leave a record that someone actually gave a crap.
Sorry to have conceitedly worked myself into the allegory, but the “put yourself in those shoes” lesson about cowardice jumped out at me as being very instructive. Pray for Sandusky’s victims, which as of this writing are now numbered at over twenty boys. There will likely be more, as Sandusky was a stone-cold predator who had plenty of people “throwing blocks” for him.
I’ve no words.
Reflejos
Reflejos: We are born knowing nothing and with much striving we learn but a little; yet all the while we are bound by laws that hearken to no plea of ignorance, and measure out their rewards and punishments with calm indifference. In such a state, humility is the virtue of men, and their only defense; to walk humbly with God, never doubting, whatever befall, that His will is good, and that His law is right.
Paul Elmer More, Pages from an Oxford Diary
Paul Elmer More, Pages from an Oxford Diary
Mme Scherzo
Mme Scherzo: There was a dawn I remember when
my soul heard something from your soul.
I drank water from your spring
and felt the current take me.
Rumi (via thelittlephilosopher)
poem
my soul heard something from your soul.
I drank water from your spring
and felt the current take me.
Rumi (via thelittlephilosopher)
poem
AMERICAN DIGEST: Comment on On Sunday Morning One Month After Death
AMERICAN DIGEST: Comment on On Sunday Morning One Month After Death: We are born knowing nothing and with much striving we learn
but a little; yet all the while we are bound by laws that
hearken to no plea of ignorance, and measure out their rewards
and punishments with calm indifference. In such a state,
humility is the virtue of men, and their only defense; to walk
humbly with God, never doubting, whatever befall, that His will
is good, and that His law is right.
Paul More, Pages from an Oxford Diary
but a little; yet all the while we are bound by laws that
hearken to no plea of ignorance, and measure out their rewards
and punishments with calm indifference. In such a state,
humility is the virtue of men, and their only defense; to walk
humbly with God, never doubting, whatever befall, that His will
is good, and that His law is right.
Paul More, Pages from an Oxford Diary
Saturday, November 12, 2011
MEMORIAL QUOTES ON GRIEF
MEMORIAL QUOTES ON GRIEF: MEMORIAL QUOTES
A Thought-provoking Collection of Quotes on Grief
A Thought-provoking Collection of Quotes on Grief
MEMORIAL QUOTES ON GRIEF
MEMORIAL QUOTES ON GRIEF: "If you're going through hell, keep going." ~Winston Churchill
"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal". ~From a headstone in Ireland
"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal". ~From a headstone in Ireland
MEMORIAL QUOTES ON GRIEF
MEMORIAL QUOTES ON GRIEF: "The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of confusion or despair, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing... not healing... not curing... that is a friend indeed." --Henri Nouwen
Friday, November 11, 2011
Sunday, November 06, 2011
Friday, November 04, 2011
sean connery on slapping women - YouTube
sean connery on slapping women - YouTube
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzXkbJwrN38&feature=player_embedded
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzXkbJwrN38&feature=player_embedded
AMERICAN DIGEST Essays, News, Notes, and Quotes
AMERICAN DIGEST Essays, News, Notes, and Quotes: "I believe that Barack Obama owns the Occupy Wall Street movement," Rudy Giuliani
"It would not have happened, it would not have happened but for his class warfare.
And remember, as it gets worse and worse because it's going to get worse and worse, where it came from. Barack Obama. He praised it. He supported it. He agrees with it. He sympathizes with it. And as it gets worse and worse, I believe this will be the millstone around Barack Obama's neck that will take his presidency down." -- RealClearPolitics
"It would not have happened, it would not have happened but for his class warfare.
And remember, as it gets worse and worse because it's going to get worse and worse, where it came from. Barack Obama. He praised it. He supported it. He agrees with it. He sympathizes with it. And as it gets worse and worse, I believe this will be the millstone around Barack Obama's neck that will take his presidency down." -- RealClearPolitics
Gmail - Inbox - jdr1228@gmail.com
Gmail - Inbox - jdr1228@gmail.com
“Writing down your thoughts is both necessary and harmful. It leads to eccentricity, narcissism, preserves what should be let go. On the other hand, these notes intensify the inner life, which, left unexpressed, slips through your fingers. If only I could find a better kind of journal, humbler, one that would preserve the same thoughts, the same flesh of life, which is worth saving.” ~Anna Kamienska
Good!!!
“Writing down your thoughts is both necessary and harmful. It leads to eccentricity, narcissism, preserves what should be let go. On the other hand, these notes intensify the inner life, which, left unexpressed, slips through your fingers. If only I could find a better kind of journal, humbler, one that would preserve the same thoughts, the same flesh of life, which is worth saving.” ~Anna Kamienska
Good!!!
Tuesday, November 01, 2011
Ineptocracy (in-ep-toc’-ra-cy) @ AMERICAN DIGEST
Ineptocracy (in-ep-toc’-ra-cy) @ AMERICAN DIGEST
Ineptocracy (in-ep-toc’-ra-cy) - a system of government where the least capable to lead are elected by the least capable of producing, and where the members of society least likely to sustain themselves or succeed are rewarded with goods and services paid for by the confiscated wealth of a diminishing number of producers.
Ineptocracy (in-ep-toc’-ra-cy) - a system of government where the least capable to lead are elected by the least capable of producing, and where the members of society least likely to sustain themselves or succeed are rewarded with goods and services paid for by the confiscated wealth of a diminishing number of producers.
"Hearts are amazing personalities:" Of Nurses, Hearts, and Healing @ AMERICAN DIGEST
"Hearts are amazing personalities:" Of Nurses, Hearts, and Healing @ AMERICAN DIGEST: "Hearts are amazing personalities:" Of Nurses, Hearts, and Healing
Marvelous
Marvelous
AMERICAN DIGEST: Comment on "Hearts are amazing personalities:" Of Nurses, Hearts, and Healing
AMERICAN DIGEST: Comment on "Hearts are amazing personalities:" Of Nurses, Hearts, and Healing: "Hearts are amazing personalities:" Of Nurses, Hearts, and Healing
Don Henley
"My Thanksgiving"
A lot of things have happened
Since the last time we spoke
Some of them are funny
Some of 'em ain't no joke
And I trust you will forgive me
If I lay it on the line
I always thought you were a friend of mine
etc excellent
Don Henley
"My Thanksgiving"
A lot of things have happened
Since the last time we spoke
Some of them are funny
Some of 'em ain't no joke
And I trust you will forgive me
If I lay it on the line
I always thought you were a friend of mine
etc excellent
Tuesday, October 04, 2011
"Crystal Moment" by Robert Peter Tristram Coffin
"Crystal Moment" by Robert Peter Tristram Coffin: Crystal Moment
by Robert Peter Tristram Coffin
Once or twice this side of death
Things can make one hold his breath.
From my boyhood I remember
A crystal moment of September.
A wooded island rang with sounds
Of church bells in the throats of hounds.
A buck leaped out and took the tide
With jewels flowing past each side.
With his head high like a tree
He swam within a yard of me.
I saw the golden drop of light
In his eyes turned dark with fright.
I saw the forest's holiness
On him like a fierce caress.
Fear made him lovely past belief,
My heart was trembling like a leaf.
He leans towards the land and life
With need above him like a knife.
In his wake the hot hounds churned
They stretched their muzzles out and yearned.
They bayed no more, but swam and throbbed
Hunger drove them till they sobbed.
Pursued, pursuers reached the shore
And vanished. I saw nothing more.
So they passed, a pageant such
As only gods could witness much,
Life and death upon one tether
And running beautiful together.
by Robert Peter Tristram Coffin
Once or twice this side of death
Things can make one hold his breath.
From my boyhood I remember
A crystal moment of September.
A wooded island rang with sounds
Of church bells in the throats of hounds.
A buck leaped out and took the tide
With jewels flowing past each side.
With his head high like a tree
He swam within a yard of me.
I saw the golden drop of light
In his eyes turned dark with fright.
I saw the forest's holiness
On him like a fierce caress.
Fear made him lovely past belief,
My heart was trembling like a leaf.
He leans towards the land and life
With need above him like a knife.
In his wake the hot hounds churned
They stretched their muzzles out and yearned.
They bayed no more, but swam and throbbed
Hunger drove them till they sobbed.
Pursued, pursuers reached the shore
And vanished. I saw nothing more.
So they passed, a pageant such
As only gods could witness much,
Life and death upon one tether
And running beautiful together.
Friday, September 30, 2011
AMERICAN DIGEST: InVerse Archives
AMERICAN DIGEST: InVerse Archives: Unknown Unknowns: The Found Poetry of Donald Rumsfeld
Unknown Unknowns: The Found Poetry of Donald Rumsfeld
Knowing
As we know,
There are known knowns.
There are things
We know we know.
We also know
There are known unknowns.
That is to say, we know
There are some things
We do not know.
But there are also
Unknown unknowns,
The ones we don’t know
We don’t know.
-- Donald Rumsfeld, 2003
Unknown Unknowns: The Found Poetry of Donald Rumsfeld
Knowing
As we know,
There are known knowns.
There are things
We know we know.
We also know
There are known unknowns.
That is to say, we know
There are some things
We do not know.
But there are also
Unknown unknowns,
The ones we don’t know
We don’t know.
-- Donald Rumsfeld, 2003
Closing Time @ AMERICAN DIGEST
Closing Time @ AMERICAN DIGEST: Closing Time
Closing Time
She was cruising down the Big Sur coast,
Looking for a little romance.
I was walking the edge of Highway One,
Hoping for a second chance.
She pulled that Ford to the side of the road.
I opened the door, got in.
Said, "My name's Adam, baby. What's yours?"
She said, "They call me Original Sin."
She didn't look like your high-school sweetheart.
She was no obvious beauty queen.
But she had something every man knows,
That fire that's felt not seen.
We coasted down that seaside highway
Until the evening fog rolled in,
Then checked ourselves into the Pines Motel,
Where I first knew Original Sin.
When I awoke the next morning
The room held nothing but me and a note.
"Nice knowing you, Adam, but I gotta roll.
See you around sometime," she wrote.
I wandered on down the side of the road,
Feeling just strange and tired.
Stuck out a thumb and a rig pulled over,
Said, "You want a job moving, you're hired."
We drifted along the curves below Sur
For most of that foggy morning,
Crawled over a hill and into a bunch
Of cops and cars with no warning.
Below the cliffs, out on the rocks
Was the smoldering wreck of a Ford.
Gulls swarmed over it, calling and calling,
Looking for a little reward.
"Another damn fool," said the trucker.
"Took the curve just a little too quick.
I seen it before and I'll see it again.
It's a killer of a road when its slick."
He edged round the cops and the gawkers,
Hit the gas, downshifted the gears.
"Pull over," I said, " and let me get out.
Far as I go is right here."
I walked back to Big Sur and got me a job.
Worked hard, got some money laid in,
And opened this bar by the side of the road,
And I named it Original Sin.
And sometimes halfway to morning,
When the last of the drunks have rolled home,
I find myself down by the Pines Motel,
And know that I'm never alone,
Know now that I'm never alone.
And that's my sad old story, pal.
Just one of a million I hear.
But this one's mine to know and to tell.
Tell me yours and I'll buy you a beer.
Tell me yours and its worth
One cold beer.
-- on the Coast, April 2005
Closing Time
She was cruising down the Big Sur coast,
Looking for a little romance.
I was walking the edge of Highway One,
Hoping for a second chance.
She pulled that Ford to the side of the road.
I opened the door, got in.
Said, "My name's Adam, baby. What's yours?"
She said, "They call me Original Sin."
She didn't look like your high-school sweetheart.
She was no obvious beauty queen.
But she had something every man knows,
That fire that's felt not seen.
We coasted down that seaside highway
Until the evening fog rolled in,
Then checked ourselves into the Pines Motel,
Where I first knew Original Sin.
When I awoke the next morning
The room held nothing but me and a note.
"Nice knowing you, Adam, but I gotta roll.
See you around sometime," she wrote.
I wandered on down the side of the road,
Feeling just strange and tired.
Stuck out a thumb and a rig pulled over,
Said, "You want a job moving, you're hired."
We drifted along the curves below Sur
For most of that foggy morning,
Crawled over a hill and into a bunch
Of cops and cars with no warning.
Below the cliffs, out on the rocks
Was the smoldering wreck of a Ford.
Gulls swarmed over it, calling and calling,
Looking for a little reward.
"Another damn fool," said the trucker.
"Took the curve just a little too quick.
I seen it before and I'll see it again.
It's a killer of a road when its slick."
He edged round the cops and the gawkers,
Hit the gas, downshifted the gears.
"Pull over," I said, " and let me get out.
Far as I go is right here."
I walked back to Big Sur and got me a job.
Worked hard, got some money laid in,
And opened this bar by the side of the road,
And I named it Original Sin.
And sometimes halfway to morning,
When the last of the drunks have rolled home,
I find myself down by the Pines Motel,
And know that I'm never alone,
Know now that I'm never alone.
And that's my sad old story, pal.
Just one of a million I hear.
But this one's mine to know and to tell.
Tell me yours and I'll buy you a beer.
Tell me yours and its worth
One cold beer.
-- on the Coast, April 2005
Poetry Lovers' Page - Rudyard Kipling: "The City of Brass"
Poetry Lovers' Page - Rudyard Kipling: "The City of Brass": "The City of Brass"
Rudyard Kipling
"The City of Brass"
1909
“Here was a people whom after their works
thou shalt see wept over for their lost dominion:
and in this palace is the last information
respecting lords collected in the dust.” –
The Arabian Nights.
In a land that the sand overlays – the ways to her gates are untrod –
A multitude ended their days whose gates were made splendid by God,
Till they grew drunk and were smitten with madness and went to their fall,
And of these is a story written: but Allah Alone knoweth all!
When the wine stirred in their heart their bosoms dilated.
They rose to suppose themselves kings over all things created –
To decree a new earth at a birth without labour or sorrow –
To declare: “We prepare it to-day and inherit to-morrow.”
They chose themselves prophets and priests of minute understanding,
Men swift to see done, and outrun, their extremest commanding –
Of the tribe which describe with a jibe the perversions of Justice –
Panders avowed to the crowd whatsoever its lust is.
Swiftly these pulled down the walls that their fathers had made them –
The impregnable ramparts of old, they razed and relaid them
As playgrounds of pleasure and leisure, with limitless entries,
And havens of rest for the wastrels where once walked the sentries;
And because there was need of more pay for the shouters and marchers,
They disbanded in face of their foemen their yeomen and archers.
They replied to their well-wishers’ fears – to their enemies laughter,
Saying: “Peace! We have fashioned a God Which shall save us hereafter.
We ascribe all dominion to man in his factions conferring,
And have given to numbers the Name of the Wisdom unerring.”
They said: “Who has hate in his soul? Who has envied his neighbour?
Let him arise and control both that man and his labour.”
They said: “Who is eaten by sloth? Whose unthrift has destroyed him?
He shall levy a tribute from all because none have employed him.”
They said: “Who hath toiled, who hath striven, and gathered possession?
Let him be spoiled. He hath given full proof of transgression.”
They said: “Who is irked by the Law? Though we may not remove it.
If he lend us his aid in this raid, we will set him above it!
So the robber did judgment again upon such as displeased him,
The slayer, too, boasted his slain, and the judges released him.
As for their kinsmen far off, on the skirts of the nation,
They harried all earth to make sure none escaped reprobation.
They awakened unrest for a jest in their newly-won borders,
And jeered at the blood of their brethren betrayed by their orders.
They instructed the ruled to rebel, their rulers to aid them;
And, since such as obeyed them not fell, their Viceroys obeyed them.
When the riotous set them at naught they said: “Praise the upheaval!
For the show and the world and the thought of Dominion is evil!”
They unwound and flung from them with rage, as a rag that defied them,
The imperial gains of the age which their forefathers piled them.
They ran panting in haste to lay waste and embitter for ever
The wellsprings of Wisdom and Strengths which are Faith and Endeavour.
They nosed out and digged up and dragged forth and exposed to derision
All doctrine of purpose and worth and restraint and prevision:
And it ceased, and God granted them all things for which they had striven,
And the heart of a beast in the place of a man’s heart was given. . . .
. . . . . . . .
When they were fullest of wine and most flagrant in error,
Out of the sea rose a sign – out of Heaven a terror.
Then they saw, then they heard, then they knew – for none troubled to hide it,
A host had prepared their destruction, but still they denied it.
They denied what they dared not abide if it came to the trail;
But the Sward that was forged while they lied did not heed their denial.
It drove home, and no time was allowed to the crowd that was driven.
The preposterous-minded were cowed – they thought time would be given.
There was no need of a steed nor a lance to pursue them;
It was decreed their own deed, and not a chance, should undo them.
The tares they had laughingly sown were ripe to the reaping.
The trust they had leagued to disown was removed from their keeping.
The eaters of other men’s bread, the exempted from hardship,
The excusers of impotence fled, abdicating their wardship,
For the hate they had taught through the State brought the State no defender,
And it passed from the roll of the Nations in headlong surrender!
Rudyard Kipling
"The City of Brass"
1909
“Here was a people whom after their works
thou shalt see wept over for their lost dominion:
and in this palace is the last information
respecting lords collected in the dust.” –
The Arabian Nights.
In a land that the sand overlays – the ways to her gates are untrod –
A multitude ended their days whose gates were made splendid by God,
Till they grew drunk and were smitten with madness and went to their fall,
And of these is a story written: but Allah Alone knoweth all!
When the wine stirred in their heart their bosoms dilated.
They rose to suppose themselves kings over all things created –
To decree a new earth at a birth without labour or sorrow –
To declare: “We prepare it to-day and inherit to-morrow.”
They chose themselves prophets and priests of minute understanding,
Men swift to see done, and outrun, their extremest commanding –
Of the tribe which describe with a jibe the perversions of Justice –
Panders avowed to the crowd whatsoever its lust is.
Swiftly these pulled down the walls that their fathers had made them –
The impregnable ramparts of old, they razed and relaid them
As playgrounds of pleasure and leisure, with limitless entries,
And havens of rest for the wastrels where once walked the sentries;
And because there was need of more pay for the shouters and marchers,
They disbanded in face of their foemen their yeomen and archers.
They replied to their well-wishers’ fears – to their enemies laughter,
Saying: “Peace! We have fashioned a God Which shall save us hereafter.
We ascribe all dominion to man in his factions conferring,
And have given to numbers the Name of the Wisdom unerring.”
They said: “Who has hate in his soul? Who has envied his neighbour?
Let him arise and control both that man and his labour.”
They said: “Who is eaten by sloth? Whose unthrift has destroyed him?
He shall levy a tribute from all because none have employed him.”
They said: “Who hath toiled, who hath striven, and gathered possession?
Let him be spoiled. He hath given full proof of transgression.”
They said: “Who is irked by the Law? Though we may not remove it.
If he lend us his aid in this raid, we will set him above it!
So the robber did judgment again upon such as displeased him,
The slayer, too, boasted his slain, and the judges released him.
As for their kinsmen far off, on the skirts of the nation,
They harried all earth to make sure none escaped reprobation.
They awakened unrest for a jest in their newly-won borders,
And jeered at the blood of their brethren betrayed by their orders.
They instructed the ruled to rebel, their rulers to aid them;
And, since such as obeyed them not fell, their Viceroys obeyed them.
When the riotous set them at naught they said: “Praise the upheaval!
For the show and the world and the thought of Dominion is evil!”
They unwound and flung from them with rage, as a rag that defied them,
The imperial gains of the age which their forefathers piled them.
They ran panting in haste to lay waste and embitter for ever
The wellsprings of Wisdom and Strengths which are Faith and Endeavour.
They nosed out and digged up and dragged forth and exposed to derision
All doctrine of purpose and worth and restraint and prevision:
And it ceased, and God granted them all things for which they had striven,
And the heart of a beast in the place of a man’s heart was given. . . .
. . . . . . . .
When they were fullest of wine and most flagrant in error,
Out of the sea rose a sign – out of Heaven a terror.
Then they saw, then they heard, then they knew – for none troubled to hide it,
A host had prepared their destruction, but still they denied it.
They denied what they dared not abide if it came to the trail;
But the Sward that was forged while they lied did not heed their denial.
It drove home, and no time was allowed to the crowd that was driven.
The preposterous-minded were cowed – they thought time would be given.
There was no need of a steed nor a lance to pursue them;
It was decreed their own deed, and not a chance, should undo them.
The tares they had laughingly sown were ripe to the reaping.
The trust they had leagued to disown was removed from their keeping.
The eaters of other men’s bread, the exempted from hardship,
The excusers of impotence fled, abdicating their wardship,
For the hate they had taught through the State brought the State no defender,
And it passed from the roll of the Nations in headlong surrender!
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Nanex - HFT Breaks Speed-of-Light Barrier, Sets Trading Speed World Record
Nanex - HFT Breaks Speed-of-Light Barrier, Sets Trading Speed World Record ALARM
On September 15, 2011, beginning at 12:48:54.600, there was a time warp in the trading of Yahoo! (YHOO) stock. HFT has reached speeds faster than the speed-of-light, allowing time travel into the future. Up to 190 milliseconds into the future, or 0.19 fantaseconds is the record so far. It all happened in just over one second of trading, the evidence buried under an avalanche of about 19,000 quotations and 3,000 individual trade executions. The facts of the matter are indisputable. Based on official exchange timestamps, there is unmistakable proof that YHOO trades were executed on quotes that didn't exist until 190 milliseconds later!
Let's make sure everyone understands what's being talked about here - there were trades executed on quotes that hadn't yet occurred.
Or at least this is what the timestamps represented.
There is absolutely no excuse for this. It is an absolutely trivial matter to have synchronized time nowdays. Not by 190 milliseconds, but by a fraction of a millisecond. In fact, with no effort whatsoever, the colocated server that runs this blog keeps time to within about one millisecond, and I could be more accurate if I cared to spend some money. That is, I literally am accurate within one millisecond spending zero, using only multiple Internet resources available to everyone (ntpd, to be precise.) When I ran MCSNet I had a radio clock that sync'd off WWVB and provided time to our network - I picked it up surplus for under $100 and it provided a "chime" timesource accurate to within about a half a millisecond. Modern GPS receivers can provide similar time service with nothing more than a cable (I have one here at my home in just this application) and likewise are not expensive.
So, what's going on here? Well, there are a couple of possibilities. Some of them are truly sinister. For example, the entire quote system may no longer give quotes to all the people at the same time, and thus the premise that you're trading against a fair market is a total farce. Your quotes go in front of or behind others, and others trade in front of or behind you. What's worse that activity could be happening selectively when it's bad for you and good for someone else, and there's no way for you to know!
There are, of course "innocent" explanations that do not involve intentional manipulation, but there's no way to prove them. When you no longer can reasonably depend on synchronization at the most-base level - that is, that a timestamp is a timestamp is a timestamp and all are accurate - then you're not trading or investing any more, you are probably playing at a poker table with a marked deck and confederates sharing their cards with the other players on a selective basis to rip you off.
The SEC won't stop this crap as is quite clear from the facts over more than a year's time so what options do you have left?
On September 15, 2011, beginning at 12:48:54.600, there was a time warp in the trading of Yahoo! (YHOO) stock. HFT has reached speeds faster than the speed-of-light, allowing time travel into the future. Up to 190 milliseconds into the future, or 0.19 fantaseconds is the record so far. It all happened in just over one second of trading, the evidence buried under an avalanche of about 19,000 quotations and 3,000 individual trade executions. The facts of the matter are indisputable. Based on official exchange timestamps, there is unmistakable proof that YHOO trades were executed on quotes that didn't exist until 190 milliseconds later!
Let's make sure everyone understands what's being talked about here - there were trades executed on quotes that hadn't yet occurred.
Or at least this is what the timestamps represented.
There is absolutely no excuse for this. It is an absolutely trivial matter to have synchronized time nowdays. Not by 190 milliseconds, but by a fraction of a millisecond. In fact, with no effort whatsoever, the colocated server that runs this blog keeps time to within about one millisecond, and I could be more accurate if I cared to spend some money. That is, I literally am accurate within one millisecond spending zero, using only multiple Internet resources available to everyone (ntpd, to be precise.) When I ran MCSNet I had a radio clock that sync'd off WWVB and provided time to our network - I picked it up surplus for under $100 and it provided a "chime" timesource accurate to within about a half a millisecond. Modern GPS receivers can provide similar time service with nothing more than a cable (I have one here at my home in just this application) and likewise are not expensive.
So, what's going on here? Well, there are a couple of possibilities. Some of them are truly sinister. For example, the entire quote system may no longer give quotes to all the people at the same time, and thus the premise that you're trading against a fair market is a total farce. Your quotes go in front of or behind others, and others trade in front of or behind you. What's worse that activity could be happening selectively when it's bad for you and good for someone else, and there's no way for you to know!
There are, of course "innocent" explanations that do not involve intentional manipulation, but there's no way to prove them. When you no longer can reasonably depend on synchronization at the most-base level - that is, that a timestamp is a timestamp is a timestamp and all are accurate - then you're not trading or investing any more, you are probably playing at a poker table with a marked deck and confederates sharing their cards with the other players on a selective basis to rip you off.
The SEC won't stop this crap as is quite clear from the facts over more than a year's time so what options do you have left?
Friday, September 16, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Yahoo!
Yahoo!
Census Info
http://factfinder.census.gov/servlet/SAFFFacts?_event=Search&geo_id=86000US93309&_geoContext=01000US|86000US93309&_street=&_county=&_cityTown=&_state=&_zip=78382&_lang=en&_sse=on&ActiveGeoDiv=geoSelect&_useEV=&pctxt=fph&pgsl=860&_submenuId=factsheet_1&ds_name=DEC_2000_SAFF&_ci_nbr=null&qr_name=null®=null%3Anull&_keyword=&_industry=
or CLICK
Census Info
http://factfinder.census.gov/servlet/SAFFFacts?_event=Search&geo_id=86000US93309&_geoContext=01000US|86000US93309&_street=&_county=&_cityTown=&_state=&_zip=78382&_lang=en&_sse=on&ActiveGeoDiv=geoSelect&_useEV=&pctxt=fph&pgsl=860&_submenuId=factsheet_1&ds_name=DEC_2000_SAFF&_ci_nbr=null&qr_name=null®=null%3Anull&_keyword=&_industry=
or CLICK
Saturday, September 10, 2011
FORGOTTEN PROPHETS
FORGOTTEN PROPHETS
Pulp
I'm pretty pleased with myself. More so than usual, that is. I've long been thinking about smoothieing salads, but haven't gotten around to it until now. Juicing is not actually all that incredibly great an idea -- mostly what you're getting is the carbs and some colored water -- good nutrients in that, but it's only part of what should be available. All that pulp is fiber, and all that color in the pulp is nutrition, usually being tossed out. Waste is a sin.
So I hunted up my old Champion Juicer that I bought in 1979 (before I was born, since I'm only 29), and put it to use. (It's still going strong, like me!)
Mine’s yellow too!
The juice comes dripping out the square bottom there, into a bowl or something, and the pulp comes out the barrel into another bowl as a rather obscene-looking tubular extrusion. Not a great design, I affirm, what with all these bowls, but there you go. I took bags of frozen chopped spinach and Brussels sprouts and mustard greens and turnip leaves, and romaine lettuce and endives and parsley and arugula, celery and yellow carrots and half a red onion, and so on -- all the salad stuff that it's a chore to eat -- and jammed it through and then mixed it all together again, juice and pulp, in the blender. Got about 6 cups full of slow thick green goo. Put them in the freezer, ready to go.
Had some last night -- drop the frozen block into the blender, add lots of water, get something more than two glasses out if it. Add a bit of Braggs for seasoning. Sip, don't swill. Icy cold. Really, it's pretty good. Quite good. All things told, it's easy. Get five days or a week's worth done at a time, the equivalent of an unreasonably big and onerous salad, but nothing except fantastic nutrition. It is, frankly, a genius idea. Makes literally every nutrient available, no need for cooking since the fiber is completely broken up, sipped so there's no overwhelming of the enteric enzymes, really easy. How else could anybody be expected to eat chard, whatever that is, or bok choy, whatever that is. Yuck.
For my recent 29th birthday someone gave me a gift certificate for a massage ... a therapeutic massage. I have to admit I'm feeling some trepidation about it. Scoured the website searching for the difference between deep tissue, Thai and shiatsu, and not finding it. That troubles me. I'll have to talk to someone and I'd rather read than talk. Well, they're masseuses, not web designers slash professional communicators. My tissue has the consistency of a leather bag filled with fist-sized rocks. It seems there's something more to health than just a superb diet and an amazing capacity for stellar athletic performance. It fills me with inexplicable melancholy, the idea that we need other people, sometimes, to maybe touch us.
Pulp
I'm pretty pleased with myself. More so than usual, that is. I've long been thinking about smoothieing salads, but haven't gotten around to it until now. Juicing is not actually all that incredibly great an idea -- mostly what you're getting is the carbs and some colored water -- good nutrients in that, but it's only part of what should be available. All that pulp is fiber, and all that color in the pulp is nutrition, usually being tossed out. Waste is a sin.
So I hunted up my old Champion Juicer that I bought in 1979 (before I was born, since I'm only 29), and put it to use. (It's still going strong, like me!)
Mine’s yellow too!
The juice comes dripping out the square bottom there, into a bowl or something, and the pulp comes out the barrel into another bowl as a rather obscene-looking tubular extrusion. Not a great design, I affirm, what with all these bowls, but there you go. I took bags of frozen chopped spinach and Brussels sprouts and mustard greens and turnip leaves, and romaine lettuce and endives and parsley and arugula, celery and yellow carrots and half a red onion, and so on -- all the salad stuff that it's a chore to eat -- and jammed it through and then mixed it all together again, juice and pulp, in the blender. Got about 6 cups full of slow thick green goo. Put them in the freezer, ready to go.
Had some last night -- drop the frozen block into the blender, add lots of water, get something more than two glasses out if it. Add a bit of Braggs for seasoning. Sip, don't swill. Icy cold. Really, it's pretty good. Quite good. All things told, it's easy. Get five days or a week's worth done at a time, the equivalent of an unreasonably big and onerous salad, but nothing except fantastic nutrition. It is, frankly, a genius idea. Makes literally every nutrient available, no need for cooking since the fiber is completely broken up, sipped so there's no overwhelming of the enteric enzymes, really easy. How else could anybody be expected to eat chard, whatever that is, or bok choy, whatever that is. Yuck.
For my recent 29th birthday someone gave me a gift certificate for a massage ... a therapeutic massage. I have to admit I'm feeling some trepidation about it. Scoured the website searching for the difference between deep tissue, Thai and shiatsu, and not finding it. That troubles me. I'll have to talk to someone and I'd rather read than talk. Well, they're masseuses, not web designers slash professional communicators. My tissue has the consistency of a leather bag filled with fist-sized rocks. It seems there's something more to health than just a superb diet and an amazing capacity for stellar athletic performance. It fills me with inexplicable melancholy, the idea that we need other people, sometimes, to maybe touch us.
Friday, September 09, 2011
Sgt. Schultz Says… by Eric Peters
Sgt. Schultz Says… by Eric PetersSay nothing… nothing!
To cops, ever.
Anything you say can and will be held against you. Remember that?
You ought to.
Even if you haven’t been formally arrested (merely “detained,” as in the case of a traffic stop) it does you no good and very possibly much harm to give any information to the cop beyond the simple minimums of name and perhaps address, as required by law. Nothing more, because anything more will simply give the cop information – information he can and will use against you, both at curbside and later on, in court.
This is his job. Do not forget it.
He is not there to “help” you. He is not a good Samaritan. You are not having a chat with a friend. You have been detained because the cop believes you have violated some statute or other – and he is investigating you. He is trained to elicit confessions of guilt, which can and will be used against you. Depend upon it.
For instance:
You’ve been stopped because you were driving faster than the posted speed limit. You roll down your window and the cop asks the first leading question, “Do you know how fast you were going?” His purpose is to get you to commit to a number – probably a number that is higher than the lawful maximum, even if lower than you were actually traveling. He knows you were doing 72 but if you say 65 (and the speed limit is 55) he has not only obtained an admission of guilt, he can appear to be a “nice guy” by “giving you a break” – that is, citing you for 65 rather than 72. Either way, he – the system – wins.
You lose.
So, say nothing… nothing!
Well, nothing potentially incriminating, anyhow.
“I’m sure you have an opinion, officer” is an excellent response – though one sure to wipe any patina of “nice guy” clean off the cop.
Similarly, other interrogatories.
“Where are you headed tonight?”
Shrug.
“You’re not being very cooperative.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, officer.”
“How much have you had to drink tonight?”
Silence.
Followed, when pressed, by something along the lines of:
“I’m sorry, officer, but I won’t be answering any questions this evening.”
Because no good can come of it.
There are, in fact, only three things you should ever say to a cop. The first is:
“Am I being detained?”
And next:
“Am I free to go.”
Repeat.
Either the cop will formally arrest you or he will give up and permit you to leave. Worst case, you are arrested, but if the cop has done so out of anger at your refusal to “cooperate” rather than on the basis of actual evidence, you will be vindicated in the end, probably. The important thing is you have not been the star witness in your own prosecution; you have provided no testimony or other evidence that can and will be used against you later on, in court. Though we do live in a flowering police state, vestiges of due process still exist and one of these is that, in general, they (the cops, the prosecutors) have to produce some evidence of your guilt. It frustrates them when you do not help them to do so. Which brings me to the final thing – the last thing you should say to a cop:
“I do not consent to any searches.”
Never mind that you know there are no drugs, illegal weapons or any other contraband item in your car. Such contraband has been known to magically appear underneath seats. If you grant entry, you’ve given opportunity. By refusing, you force them to abide by at least some procedure – and you have formally refused consent, which could be a lifesaver later on, if they ignore you and go ahead and ransack your vehicle (or person) regardless.
It is important to be polite, calm and collected.
But it is far more important to not be servile – and to assert your rights, whatever’s left of them, anyho
To cops, ever.
Anything you say can and will be held against you. Remember that?
You ought to.
Even if you haven’t been formally arrested (merely “detained,” as in the case of a traffic stop) it does you no good and very possibly much harm to give any information to the cop beyond the simple minimums of name and perhaps address, as required by law. Nothing more, because anything more will simply give the cop information – information he can and will use against you, both at curbside and later on, in court.
This is his job. Do not forget it.
He is not there to “help” you. He is not a good Samaritan. You are not having a chat with a friend. You have been detained because the cop believes you have violated some statute or other – and he is investigating you. He is trained to elicit confessions of guilt, which can and will be used against you. Depend upon it.
For instance:
You’ve been stopped because you were driving faster than the posted speed limit. You roll down your window and the cop asks the first leading question, “Do you know how fast you were going?” His purpose is to get you to commit to a number – probably a number that is higher than the lawful maximum, even if lower than you were actually traveling. He knows you were doing 72 but if you say 65 (and the speed limit is 55) he has not only obtained an admission of guilt, he can appear to be a “nice guy” by “giving you a break” – that is, citing you for 65 rather than 72. Either way, he – the system – wins.
You lose.
So, say nothing… nothing!
Well, nothing potentially incriminating, anyhow.
“I’m sure you have an opinion, officer” is an excellent response – though one sure to wipe any patina of “nice guy” clean off the cop.
Similarly, other interrogatories.
“Where are you headed tonight?”
Shrug.
“You’re not being very cooperative.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, officer.”
“How much have you had to drink tonight?”
Silence.
Followed, when pressed, by something along the lines of:
“I’m sorry, officer, but I won’t be answering any questions this evening.”
Because no good can come of it.
There are, in fact, only three things you should ever say to a cop. The first is:
“Am I being detained?”
And next:
“Am I free to go.”
Repeat.
Either the cop will formally arrest you or he will give up and permit you to leave. Worst case, you are arrested, but if the cop has done so out of anger at your refusal to “cooperate” rather than on the basis of actual evidence, you will be vindicated in the end, probably. The important thing is you have not been the star witness in your own prosecution; you have provided no testimony or other evidence that can and will be used against you later on, in court. Though we do live in a flowering police state, vestiges of due process still exist and one of these is that, in general, they (the cops, the prosecutors) have to produce some evidence of your guilt. It frustrates them when you do not help them to do so. Which brings me to the final thing – the last thing you should say to a cop:
“I do not consent to any searches.”
Never mind that you know there are no drugs, illegal weapons or any other contraband item in your car. Such contraband has been known to magically appear underneath seats. If you grant entry, you’ve given opportunity. By refusing, you force them to abide by at least some procedure – and you have formally refused consent, which could be a lifesaver later on, if they ignore you and go ahead and ransack your vehicle (or person) regardless.
It is important to be polite, calm and collected.
But it is far more important to not be servile – and to assert your rights, whatever’s left of them, anyho
Sgt. Schultz Says… by Eric Peters
Sgt. Schultz Says… by Eric PetersSay nothing… nothing!
To cops, ever.
Anything you say can and will be held against you. Remember that?
You ought to.
Even if you haven’t been formally arrested (merely “detained,” as in the case of a traffic stop) it does you no good and very possibly much harm to give any information to the cop beyond the simple minimums of name and perhaps address, as required by law. Nothing more, because anything more will simply give the cop information – information he can and will use against you, both at curbside and later on, in court.
This is his job. Do not forget it.
He is not there to “help” you. He is not a good Samaritan. You are not having a chat with a friend. You have been detained because the cop believes you have violated some statute or other – and he is investigating you. He is trained to elicit confessions of guilt, which can and will be used against you. Depend upon it.
For instance:
You’ve been stopped because you were driving faster than the posted speed limit. You roll down your window and the cop asks the first leading question, “Do you know how fast you were going?” His purpose is to get you to commit to a number – probably a number that is higher than the lawful maximum, even if lower than you were actually traveling. He knows you were doing 72 but if you say 65 (and the speed limit is 55) he has not only obtained an admission of guilt, he can appear to be a “nice guy” by “giving you a break” – that is, citing you for 65 rather than 72. Either way, he – the system – wins.
You lose.
So, say nothing… nothing!
Well, nothing potentially incriminating, anyhow.
“I’m sure you have an opinion, officer” is an excellent response – though one sure to wipe any patina of “nice guy” clean off the cop.
Similarly, other interrogatories.
“Where are you headed tonight?”
Shrug.
“You’re not being very cooperative.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, officer.”
“How much have you had to drink tonight?”
Silence.
Followed, when pressed, by something along the lines of:
“I’m sorry, officer, but I won’t be answering any questions this evening.”
Because no good can come of it.
There are, in fact, only three things you should ever say to a cop. The first is:
“Am I being detained?”
And next:
“Am I free to go.”
Repeat.
Either the cop will formally arrest you or he will give up and permit you to leave. Worst case, you are arrested, but if the cop has done so out of anger at your refusal to “cooperate” rather than on the basis of actual evidence, you will be vindicated in the end, probably. The important thing is you have not been the star witness in your own prosecution; you have provided no testimony or other evidence that can and will be used against you later on, in court. Though we do live in a flowering police state, vestiges of due process still exist and one of these is that, in general, they (the cops, the prosecutors) have to produce some evidence of your guilt. It frustrates them when you do not help them to do so. Which brings me to the final thing – the last thing you should say to a cop:
“I do not consent to any searches.”
Never mind that you know there are no drugs, illegal weapons or any other contraband item in your car. Such contraband has been known to magically appear underneath seats. If you grant entry, you’ve given opportunity. By refusing, you force them to abide by at least some procedure – and you have formally refused consent, which could be a lifesaver later on, if they ignore you and go ahead and ransack your vehicle (or person) regardless.
It is important to be polite, calm and collected.
But it is far more important to not be servile – and to assert your rights, whatever’s left of them, anyho
To cops, ever.
Anything you say can and will be held against you. Remember that?
You ought to.
Even if you haven’t been formally arrested (merely “detained,” as in the case of a traffic stop) it does you no good and very possibly much harm to give any information to the cop beyond the simple minimums of name and perhaps address, as required by law. Nothing more, because anything more will simply give the cop information – information he can and will use against you, both at curbside and later on, in court.
This is his job. Do not forget it.
He is not there to “help” you. He is not a good Samaritan. You are not having a chat with a friend. You have been detained because the cop believes you have violated some statute or other – and he is investigating you. He is trained to elicit confessions of guilt, which can and will be used against you. Depend upon it.
For instance:
You’ve been stopped because you were driving faster than the posted speed limit. You roll down your window and the cop asks the first leading question, “Do you know how fast you were going?” His purpose is to get you to commit to a number – probably a number that is higher than the lawful maximum, even if lower than you were actually traveling. He knows you were doing 72 but if you say 65 (and the speed limit is 55) he has not only obtained an admission of guilt, he can appear to be a “nice guy” by “giving you a break” – that is, citing you for 65 rather than 72. Either way, he – the system – wins.
You lose.
So, say nothing… nothing!
Well, nothing potentially incriminating, anyhow.
“I’m sure you have an opinion, officer” is an excellent response – though one sure to wipe any patina of “nice guy” clean off the cop.
Similarly, other interrogatories.
“Where are you headed tonight?”
Shrug.
“You’re not being very cooperative.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, officer.”
“How much have you had to drink tonight?”
Silence.
Followed, when pressed, by something along the lines of:
“I’m sorry, officer, but I won’t be answering any questions this evening.”
Because no good can come of it.
There are, in fact, only three things you should ever say to a cop. The first is:
“Am I being detained?”
And next:
“Am I free to go.”
Repeat.
Either the cop will formally arrest you or he will give up and permit you to leave. Worst case, you are arrested, but if the cop has done so out of anger at your refusal to “cooperate” rather than on the basis of actual evidence, you will be vindicated in the end, probably. The important thing is you have not been the star witness in your own prosecution; you have provided no testimony or other evidence that can and will be used against you later on, in court. Though we do live in a flowering police state, vestiges of due process still exist and one of these is that, in general, they (the cops, the prosecutors) have to produce some evidence of your guilt. It frustrates them when you do not help them to do so. Which brings me to the final thing – the last thing you should say to a cop:
“I do not consent to any searches.”
Never mind that you know there are no drugs, illegal weapons or any other contraband item in your car. Such contraband has been known to magically appear underneath seats. If you grant entry, you’ve given opportunity. By refusing, you force them to abide by at least some procedure – and you have formally refused consent, which could be a lifesaver later on, if they ignore you and go ahead and ransack your vehicle (or person) regardless.
It is important to be polite, calm and collected.
But it is far more important to not be servile – and to assert your rights, whatever’s left of them, anyho
Sgt. Schultz Says… by Eric Peters
Sgt. Schultz Says… by Eric PetersSay nothing… nothing!
To cops, ever.
Anything you say can and will be held against you. Remember that?
You ought to.
Even if you haven’t been formally arrested (merely “detained,” as in the case of a traffic stop) it does you no good and very possibly much harm to give any information to the cop beyond the simple minimums of name and perhaps address, as required by law. Nothing more, because anything more will simply give the cop information – information he can and will use against you, both at curbside and later on, in court.
This is his job. Do not forget it.
He is not there to “help” you. He is not a good Samaritan. You are not having a chat with a friend. You have been detained because the cop believes you have violated some statute or other – and he is investigating you. He is trained to elicit confessions of guilt, which can and will be used against you. Depend upon it.
For instance:
You’ve been stopped because you were driving faster than the posted speed limit. You roll down your window and the cop asks the first leading question, “Do you know how fast you were going?” His purpose is to get you to commit to a number – probably a number that is higher than the lawful maximum, even if lower than you were actually traveling. He knows you were doing 72 but if you say 65 (and the speed limit is 55) he has not only obtained an admission of guilt, he can appear to be a “nice guy” by “giving you a break” – that is, citing you for 65 rather than 72. Either way, he – the system – wins.
You lose.
So, say nothing… nothing!
Well, nothing potentially incriminating, anyhow.
“I’m sure you have an opinion, officer” is an excellent response – though one sure to wipe any patina of “nice guy” clean off the cop.
Similarly, other interrogatories.
“Where are you headed tonight?”
Shrug.
“You’re not being very cooperative.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, officer.”
“How much have you had to drink tonight?”
Silence.
Followed, when pressed, by something along the lines of:
“I’m sorry, officer, but I won’t be answering any questions this evening.”
Because no good can come of it.
There are, in fact, only three things you should ever say to a cop. The first is:
“Am I being detained?”
And next:
“Am I free to go.”
Repeat.
Either the cop will formally arrest you or he will give up and permit you to leave. Worst case, you are arrested, but if the cop has done so out of anger at your refusal to “cooperate” rather than on the basis of actual evidence, you will be vindicated in the end, probably. The important thing is you have not been the star witness in your own prosecution; you have provided no testimony or other evidence that can and will be used against you later on, in court. Though we do live in a flowering police state, vestiges of due process still exist and one of these is that, in general, they (the cops, the prosecutors) have to produce some evidence of your guilt. It frustrates them when you do not help them to do so. Which brings me to the final thing – the last thing you should say to a cop:
“I do not consent to any searches.”
Never mind that you know there are no drugs, illegal weapons or any other contraband item in your car. Such contraband has been known to magically appear underneath seats. If you grant entry, you’ve given opportunity. By refusing, you force them to abide by at least some procedure – and you have formally refused consent, which could be a lifesaver later on, if they ignore you and go ahead and ransack your vehicle (or person) regardless.
It is important to be polite, calm and collected.
But it is far more important to not be servile – and to assert your rights, whatever’s left of them, anyho
To cops, ever.
Anything you say can and will be held against you. Remember that?
You ought to.
Even if you haven’t been formally arrested (merely “detained,” as in the case of a traffic stop) it does you no good and very possibly much harm to give any information to the cop beyond the simple minimums of name and perhaps address, as required by law. Nothing more, because anything more will simply give the cop information – information he can and will use against you, both at curbside and later on, in court.
This is his job. Do not forget it.
He is not there to “help” you. He is not a good Samaritan. You are not having a chat with a friend. You have been detained because the cop believes you have violated some statute or other – and he is investigating you. He is trained to elicit confessions of guilt, which can and will be used against you. Depend upon it.
For instance:
You’ve been stopped because you were driving faster than the posted speed limit. You roll down your window and the cop asks the first leading question, “Do you know how fast you were going?” His purpose is to get you to commit to a number – probably a number that is higher than the lawful maximum, even if lower than you were actually traveling. He knows you were doing 72 but if you say 65 (and the speed limit is 55) he has not only obtained an admission of guilt, he can appear to be a “nice guy” by “giving you a break” – that is, citing you for 65 rather than 72. Either way, he – the system – wins.
You lose.
So, say nothing… nothing!
Well, nothing potentially incriminating, anyhow.
“I’m sure you have an opinion, officer” is an excellent response – though one sure to wipe any patina of “nice guy” clean off the cop.
Similarly, other interrogatories.
“Where are you headed tonight?”
Shrug.
“You’re not being very cooperative.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, officer.”
“How much have you had to drink tonight?”
Silence.
Followed, when pressed, by something along the lines of:
“I’m sorry, officer, but I won’t be answering any questions this evening.”
Because no good can come of it.
There are, in fact, only three things you should ever say to a cop. The first is:
“Am I being detained?”
And next:
“Am I free to go.”
Repeat.
Either the cop will formally arrest you or he will give up and permit you to leave. Worst case, you are arrested, but if the cop has done so out of anger at your refusal to “cooperate” rather than on the basis of actual evidence, you will be vindicated in the end, probably. The important thing is you have not been the star witness in your own prosecution; you have provided no testimony or other evidence that can and will be used against you later on, in court. Though we do live in a flowering police state, vestiges of due process still exist and one of these is that, in general, they (the cops, the prosecutors) have to produce some evidence of your guilt. It frustrates them when you do not help them to do so. Which brings me to the final thing – the last thing you should say to a cop:
“I do not consent to any searches.”
Never mind that you know there are no drugs, illegal weapons or any other contraband item in your car. Such contraband has been known to magically appear underneath seats. If you grant entry, you’ve given opportunity. By refusing, you force them to abide by at least some procedure – and you have formally refused consent, which could be a lifesaver later on, if they ignore you and go ahead and ransack your vehicle (or person) regardless.
It is important to be polite, calm and collected.
But it is far more important to not be servile – and to assert your rights, whatever’s left of them, anyho
Health Care Workers Now Choose Alternative Medicine
Health Care Workers Now Choose Alternative Medicine
I was diagnosed with Progressive Multiple Sclerosis in 2006 and have not taken any prescription drugs whatsoever. I have been treating the MS with diet, nutrition, natural supplements & remedies, and the mind, body and spirit approach with meditation, yoga, exercise and breathing. I had to change my entire lifestyle. I am completely gluten free, sugar free and dairy free, only consume organic produce and only wear natural fibres. I rarely eat out and prepare everything I consume, myself.
I used to have hypoglycemia. It is gone. I have not had an MS relapse or attack in almost 4 years and my last MRI showed no new lesions as compared to my first MRI in 2006. Despite being diagnosed with Progressive MS, it has not progressed. The medical profession will never accept or acknowledge this. It is the natural treatments and the hollistic approach that has helped stop my MS in its tracks!
The pharmaceutical companies have the doctors in their pockets, prescribing their 'poisons'(while they themselves seek natural remedies and treatments). We then have to live with and treat the side effects of these drugs, by more medication. Neither the medical professionals nor the pharmaceutical companies have the welfare of a sick population in mind. They actually thrive on the population getting and being sick. The sicker the population gets, the more money they make. Thank you Dr Mercola for educating the readers and keeping us well informed with all the great articles.
See my story at www.mymstreatment.blogspot.com
=======
Congrats Al!! I am treating myself in a similar manner but not as strict as I would like. I am addicted to my creame and coffee. Both organic, and everything I eat is. I take a multitude of vitamins,minerals and herbs. I have had the CCSVI treatment which greatly improved everything. I have been on Low Dose Naltrexone and Alpha Lipoic Acid oral plus IV. In fact today I will start an Iv on myself and do ALA. Its amazing how that makes you feel. That is also one of the cancer cures I mention. People think pancreatic cancer is a death sentence lead by AMA. BM Berkson has proven this cures cancer!! Exercise, stress reduction and life style change are needed. I am actually so impressed with holistic medicine I am searching for a Nature path school hoping to specialize in Chinese Herbal Medicine. They have been around with alot more research than the weastern medicine which has been hijacked by Rockefellers. Another cure for cancer is THC. Good luck!!!
Mark as Spam |
1 Points
ILoveGoldDogs
ILoveGoldDogs
Joined On 10/2007
Add as Friend | Send Message
Getting Started
Posted On Sep 09, 2011
Good for you!!
Did any of your doctors check you for heavy metals? I was quite ill with MS-like symptoms for 15 years. The onset of my symptoms began after having dental work with amalgam fillings (mercury). My health took an even larger dive after I was required to get HepB vaccines. My central nervous system when totally wacko. I was having problems with optic neuritis, unstable vision, I would get the sensation of an electric shock in my body when I would put my chin to my chest, I would get icy cold spots on my skin, my hair was falling out in large clumps, I stopped having periods, I had poor balance,intense brain fog and my skin had taken on a greyish green cast. I had thousands upon thousands of dollars of medical tests over the years with nothing conclusive found.
I chose to work along with Public Health nurses for a clinical experience to complete my BSN degree. By the grace of God, the discussion of HepB vaccines came up. I was sharing my nightmare experience of the HepB vaccine when one the nurses clued me into the fact that the symptoms I was having was not the HepB vaccine itself, but rather the preservative which was thimerosol which contains mercury. Suddenly,it all made sense!!
One of the dental assistants at my dentist's office was well-informed on this issue because one of their patients worked for a naturopathic doctor who treated this type of thing. Long story short--I underwent a few months of detox and removal of amalgam. All my symptoms went away and I had my life back.
During some of my own research subsequent to that, I learned scientists inject lab rats with mercury when they want to induce auto-immune diseases for research. Consequently, when I take medical histories on patients I explore the possibility of mercury toxicity when applicable to their symptoms.
During all the conventional medical testing I went through with medical specialist doctors, not one of them ever did a heavy metal screen, but they made lots of money off me.
----------
We are now facing the threat to medicine that comes with our ingestion of genetically engineered high fructose corn syrup and genetically engineered foods. The companies that produce them have categorically denied that ingestion of genes in food that have had pesticides inserted into them would change our human genetics but anyone without a scientific education and with a little bit of common sense knows that this is not true. Since we cannot draw reliably on the many years of medical experience that told us about the body before all this genetic engieering happened we must look to find answers for the ways to mitigate effects of this abomination ourselves. Alternative medicine is doing a much better job of it than mainstream medicine at this time.
------------
I was diagnosed with Progressive Multiple Sclerosis in 2006 and have not taken any prescription drugs whatsoever. I have been treating the MS with diet, nutrition, natural supplements & remedies, and the mind, body and spirit approach with meditation, yoga, exercise and breathing. I had to change my entire lifestyle. I am completely gluten free, sugar free and dairy free, only consume organic produce and only wear natural fibres. I rarely eat out and prepare everything I consume, myself.
I used to have hypoglycemia. It is gone. I have not had an MS relapse or attack in almost 4 years and my last MRI showed no new lesions as compared to my first MRI in 2006. Despite being diagnosed with Progressive MS, it has not progressed. The medical profession will never accept or acknowledge this. It is the natural treatments and the hollistic approach that has helped stop my MS in its tracks!
The pharmaceutical companies have the doctors in their pockets, prescribing their 'poisons'(while they themselves seek natural remedies and treatments). We then have to live with and treat the side effects of these drugs, by more medication. Neither the medical professionals nor the pharmaceutical companies have the welfare of a sick population in mind. They actually thrive on the population getting and being sick. The sicker the population gets, the more money they make. Thank you Dr Mercola for educating the readers and keeping us well informed with all the great articles.
See my story at www.mymstreatment.blogspot.com
=======
Congrats Al!! I am treating myself in a similar manner but not as strict as I would like. I am addicted to my creame and coffee. Both organic, and everything I eat is. I take a multitude of vitamins,minerals and herbs. I have had the CCSVI treatment which greatly improved everything. I have been on Low Dose Naltrexone and Alpha Lipoic Acid oral plus IV. In fact today I will start an Iv on myself and do ALA. Its amazing how that makes you feel. That is also one of the cancer cures I mention. People think pancreatic cancer is a death sentence lead by AMA. BM Berkson has proven this cures cancer!! Exercise, stress reduction and life style change are needed. I am actually so impressed with holistic medicine I am searching for a Nature path school hoping to specialize in Chinese Herbal Medicine. They have been around with alot more research than the weastern medicine which has been hijacked by Rockefellers. Another cure for cancer is THC. Good luck!!!
Mark as Spam |
1 Points
ILoveGoldDogs
ILoveGoldDogs
Joined On 10/2007
Add as Friend | Send Message
Getting Started
Posted On Sep 09, 2011
Good for you!!
Did any of your doctors check you for heavy metals? I was quite ill with MS-like symptoms for 15 years. The onset of my symptoms began after having dental work with amalgam fillings (mercury). My health took an even larger dive after I was required to get HepB vaccines. My central nervous system when totally wacko. I was having problems with optic neuritis, unstable vision, I would get the sensation of an electric shock in my body when I would put my chin to my chest, I would get icy cold spots on my skin, my hair was falling out in large clumps, I stopped having periods, I had poor balance,intense brain fog and my skin had taken on a greyish green cast. I had thousands upon thousands of dollars of medical tests over the years with nothing conclusive found.
I chose to work along with Public Health nurses for a clinical experience to complete my BSN degree. By the grace of God, the discussion of HepB vaccines came up. I was sharing my nightmare experience of the HepB vaccine when one the nurses clued me into the fact that the symptoms I was having was not the HepB vaccine itself, but rather the preservative which was thimerosol which contains mercury. Suddenly,it all made sense!!
One of the dental assistants at my dentist's office was well-informed on this issue because one of their patients worked for a naturopathic doctor who treated this type of thing. Long story short--I underwent a few months of detox and removal of amalgam. All my symptoms went away and I had my life back.
During some of my own research subsequent to that, I learned scientists inject lab rats with mercury when they want to induce auto-immune diseases for research. Consequently, when I take medical histories on patients I explore the possibility of mercury toxicity when applicable to their symptoms.
During all the conventional medical testing I went through with medical specialist doctors, not one of them ever did a heavy metal screen, but they made lots of money off me.
----------
We are now facing the threat to medicine that comes with our ingestion of genetically engineered high fructose corn syrup and genetically engineered foods. The companies that produce them have categorically denied that ingestion of genes in food that have had pesticides inserted into them would change our human genetics but anyone without a scientific education and with a little bit of common sense knows that this is not true. Since we cannot draw reliably on the many years of medical experience that told us about the body before all this genetic engieering happened we must look to find answers for the ways to mitigate effects of this abomination ourselves. Alternative medicine is doing a much better job of it than mainstream medicine at this time.
------------
Saturday, September 03, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
(52 unread) - jdr1228@yahoo.com - Yahoo! Mail
(52 unread) - jdr1228@yahoo.com - Yahoo! Mail
How to create a Windows 7 Backup Image
Sure, you back up all your important data files, but a nice feature of Windows 7's built-in backup program is that it can create a complete system backup image, which will restore all your programs and settings too. Here's how to do it:
1. Click Start and in the Search box, type Backup
2. Click Backup and Restore in the list of programs shown
3. In the left pane, click Create A System Image
4. Select a location where you want to save the system image. It should not be on the same partition where Windows is installed
5. Click Next
6. Choose which drive to back up. To back up your operating system and program files, select the drive where Windows is installed, usually C:
7. Click Start Backup
8. After the backup finishes (which could take a while if you have lots of programs and/or data), click Create a System Repair Disk in the left pane
9. Insert a blank DVD or CD and click Create Disk Now you can use the System Repair Disk and your system image to restore your computer.
How to create a Windows 7 Backup Image
Sure, you back up all your important data files, but a nice feature of Windows 7's built-in backup program is that it can create a complete system backup image, which will restore all your programs and settings too. Here's how to do it:
1. Click Start and in the Search box, type Backup
2. Click Backup and Restore in the list of programs shown
3. In the left pane, click Create A System Image
4. Select a location where you want to save the system image. It should not be on the same partition where Windows is installed
5. Click Next
6. Choose which drive to back up. To back up your operating system and program files, select the drive where Windows is installed, usually C:
7. Click Start Backup
8. After the backup finishes (which could take a while if you have lots of programs and/or data), click Create a System Repair Disk in the left pane
9. Insert a blank DVD or CD and click Create Disk Now you can use the System Repair Disk and your system image to restore your computer.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Kids Learning Center: About Author Richard W. Jennings
Kids Learning Center: About Author Richard W. Jennings
Dog who killed himself Karens Book
Dog who killed himself Karens Book
Tuesday, August 09, 2011
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