The thoughts and dreams that come to me are a constant source of wonder and appreciation of the complexity of the "little grey cells". Tonight's episode is very perplexing.
Yesterday I made chili. I made it the way my Brother likes it, without beans. The chili simmered for about four hours. The chili is not too hot but the day was so I wandered to the store and got some ice cold beer. Chili and ice cold beer are a match made in, well Hades seems to be the proper location. Chili over rice and shaved cheese are one of my favorite dishes.
Now comes the wonder. A dream and a thought dominated my evening. I had watched a little television and went to bed. I awoke shortly before midnight with a song and a memory vividly in my mind. Many years ago one who is still dear to my heart took me to see the play "Jesus Christ Superstar". It was one of the most impressive things that I have ever experienced. There was pathos and comedy (New Testament and comedy?) and one of the most poignant things I have ever experienced. The thing was the song sung by Mary of Magdala. The song was "I don't know how to love him".
Several years ago I read that book by Dan Brown , called The Davinci Code, that addressed the subject of the relationship of Jesus and Mary of Magdala and an old interest was rekindled. Questions arose so I started digging. How she got such a reputation from those seven devils is one question. How the Elevated Eleven formed their "NO GIRLS ALLOWED" club is another. What happened to her is another. Did she go to Ephesus with Mary of the Immaculate Conception much like Ruth's journey? So many questions, so many suspicions, do women disappear from the New Testament after Jesus died? It is reminiscent of the Mother Goddess being supplanted by the endless list of Thunderers and that Cretan priestess being told "There will be an emnity between you and the serpent and, by the way, that dress has to go. Put some damned clothes on.".
I have always thought that men took over religion when they realized it was a fertile source of power and money. I know there is God. I don't have much respect for religion. Rome's fascination with the Shoes has always raised an eyebrow in my mind. Not sandals but shiny, elaborate shoes! I would wager that somewhere in the Vatican there is a large closet crammed with all sorts of shiny elaborate shoes because there is no way that all the Popes in two thousand years were 9 1/2 D's. A closet full of shoes, Hmmmmm, what else is in the closet? Is there a stuffed tiger in there? For as we all know, "NO GIRLS ALLOWED".
Enough with the ponderings of a dusty, wrinkled mind. There is still that tiny, delicate, sorrowful, waif standing on that stage singing her heart out "I Don't Know How to Love Him.". Does anyone? If there is ever a national anthem for Christianity I would nominate that song and the pitiful, pleading voice that sang it.
Thank you dear one for that memory and so many more. That litany of fond and meaningful memories must be left alone. "There are times and there are places".
I hope that the dream and thoughts are not just a result of the chili. If they are, chili is going to become a mainstay of the menu.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Pillow Thoughts
Last night was an uneasy night. I awakened in the very early hours of today. I don't know why, maybe there was a noise outside. The first thing that I noticed was that it was quite bright in the room. It was the Moon shining in the window. It illuminated the whole room. I lay staring at the Moon.
Then the wheels started whirring. I began thinking of how the Sun dominates our lives and how years ago, when people slept outside, the Moon must have had more of an effect on them. I pondered what meanings the ancients attached to the Moon and the gender they ascribed to Her. If the Moon is female, then the Moon must be the giver of life. The Sun nurtures all growing things and he must be the sustainer of life.
Oh Boy, the wheels started buzzing. The question popped in "What is the meaning and purpose of Life?".
So here is a synopsis of my thoughts under the Lunar influence. The purpose of Life is to create new Life. The secondary purpose is to nurture that new Life. The gender roles of the Human Race would seem to validate these thoughts but gender roles have become so convoluted and distorted. Fathers have lost their way and Mothers have had to take over the nurturing. This would make sense if there were still cave bears lurking at the entrance to the cave but makes no sense in our world today. The NFL and Nascar and Final Fantasy and Warrior based games are no way to spend your day. The only such role a man today must fill is when there is a noise downstairs in the night and he must get up and go see what it is. He must also sleep on the door side of the bed.
So I arrived at some conclusion about the Purpose, the Meaning is still a mystery. I need another phrase, Life is far from Mean.
I wonder what the noise was, it was probably a Cave Mouse.
Then the wheels started whirring. I began thinking of how the Sun dominates our lives and how years ago, when people slept outside, the Moon must have had more of an effect on them. I pondered what meanings the ancients attached to the Moon and the gender they ascribed to Her. If the Moon is female, then the Moon must be the giver of life. The Sun nurtures all growing things and he must be the sustainer of life.
Oh Boy, the wheels started buzzing. The question popped in "What is the meaning and purpose of Life?".
So here is a synopsis of my thoughts under the Lunar influence. The purpose of Life is to create new Life. The secondary purpose is to nurture that new Life. The gender roles of the Human Race would seem to validate these thoughts but gender roles have become so convoluted and distorted. Fathers have lost their way and Mothers have had to take over the nurturing. This would make sense if there were still cave bears lurking at the entrance to the cave but makes no sense in our world today. The NFL and Nascar and Final Fantasy and Warrior based games are no way to spend your day. The only such role a man today must fill is when there is a noise downstairs in the night and he must get up and go see what it is. He must also sleep on the door side of the bed.
So I arrived at some conclusion about the Purpose, the Meaning is still a mystery. I need another phrase, Life is far from Mean.
I wonder what the noise was, it was probably a Cave Mouse.
Monday, June 21, 2010
D Day
June sixth was D Day and is often referred to as The Longest Day. Yesterday was D Day and the longest day for me. I thought that the day would never end.
The only bright spot was an excellent Masterpiece Theater on PBS. There was an excellent opera and Mystery on. The Mystery was broadcast twice in a row and it is enjoyable to watch for the clues the second time when one already knows the solution. Once again I considered the difference between English actors and American actors. The subtlety and lack of bravado of the English are very remarkable. Bravo PBS!!!
The next Mystery will be a Hercule Poirot. I am on tenterhooks.
The only bright spot was an excellent Masterpiece Theater on PBS. There was an excellent opera and Mystery on. The Mystery was broadcast twice in a row and it is enjoyable to watch for the clues the second time when one already knows the solution. Once again I considered the difference between English actors and American actors. The subtlety and lack of bravado of the English are very remarkable. Bravo PBS!!!
The next Mystery will be a Hercule Poirot. I am on tenterhooks.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
No place that I'd rather be.
Every once and a while I take an inventory of my life. This morning seems like a good time to do that. The reason is the state that I live in. I awoke to a very cool breeze.
Yesterday was very warm. Warm, not the hot baking days of late July and August that let us know how a cookie feels during its birth pangs. I went to bed with just a little moisture emanating from me in the warmth. I awoke this morning with the need to put on a blanket.
I began thinking of how lucky I am to live in Massachusetts. This state is beautiful and green and civilized. There are very few bugs, no tornados, no racial crisises, no mass murderers, and no conspiracy devotees. It is a peaceful place with Simpson-like skies and people that genuinely enjoy living among other people. We have problems just like other people but they are rarely of a scope to make national news.
Massachusetts was the home of John Eliot and John Hancock and Horace Mann. It is also the birthplace of the Fig Newton. It is also the home of many fine institutions of learning and fine hospitals and the home of Big Poppie.
I live in a typical New England small town. There are four churches within walking distance of my home. There is also a fine library, three schools, and a shop that sells nothing but Hot Dogs. Church bells toll the time each hour and people greet each other each morning as we all walk in the coolness of the Eos's blessing. There are playgrounds and atheletic fields. There is no McDonalds or Walmart or barroom.
So, the things that may be missing from my life go unnoticed. They are hidden from view by the plethora of good things.
I would like to be closer to my children but they themselves are spread so far apart that it would not be possible to be close to all of them. I did so enjoy watching them grow from children to very admirable young women. It would be a joy to watch them travel through maturity with the intense niceness that they each have. I claim no credit for the amazing human beings that they have become. That all came from their Mother who taught them the joys of learning and music and art and compassion. She taught me the same and I will never forget being so overwhelmed by Les Miserables, which I would have never seen on my own. The same goes for Jesus Christ, Superstar. That love of human achievement was passed on to her children, one of whom took me to a performance of Handel's Messiah with a full orchestra.
Once again, there is no place that I would rather be unless it was standing at the sausage and peppers stand on Landsdowne Street. It was nice to see Manny again.
Yesterday was very warm. Warm, not the hot baking days of late July and August that let us know how a cookie feels during its birth pangs. I went to bed with just a little moisture emanating from me in the warmth. I awoke this morning with the need to put on a blanket.
I began thinking of how lucky I am to live in Massachusetts. This state is beautiful and green and civilized. There are very few bugs, no tornados, no racial crisises, no mass murderers, and no conspiracy devotees. It is a peaceful place with Simpson-like skies and people that genuinely enjoy living among other people. We have problems just like other people but they are rarely of a scope to make national news.
Massachusetts was the home of John Eliot and John Hancock and Horace Mann. It is also the birthplace of the Fig Newton. It is also the home of many fine institutions of learning and fine hospitals and the home of Big Poppie.
I live in a typical New England small town. There are four churches within walking distance of my home. There is also a fine library, three schools, and a shop that sells nothing but Hot Dogs. Church bells toll the time each hour and people greet each other each morning as we all walk in the coolness of the Eos's blessing. There are playgrounds and atheletic fields. There is no McDonalds or Walmart or barroom.
So, the things that may be missing from my life go unnoticed. They are hidden from view by the plethora of good things.
I would like to be closer to my children but they themselves are spread so far apart that it would not be possible to be close to all of them. I did so enjoy watching them grow from children to very admirable young women. It would be a joy to watch them travel through maturity with the intense niceness that they each have. I claim no credit for the amazing human beings that they have become. That all came from their Mother who taught them the joys of learning and music and art and compassion. She taught me the same and I will never forget being so overwhelmed by Les Miserables, which I would have never seen on my own. The same goes for Jesus Christ, Superstar. That love of human achievement was passed on to her children, one of whom took me to a performance of Handel's Messiah with a full orchestra.
Once again, there is no place that I would rather be unless it was standing at the sausage and peppers stand on Landsdowne Street. It was nice to see Manny again.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Women as priests
There seems to be a controversy raging about allowing Catholic priests to marry and to allow women to be ordained as Catholic priests. People are asking why the Church follows guidelines instituted so many years ago. I don't have many answers but I do have some misgivings.
First of all, the expense that the Church would incur. Imagine all of the Catholic churches all over the world. Multiply that by the number of huge stained glass windows in those churches. Imagine how much it would cost to put draperies or curtains on all of those windows. Imagine how much it would cost to put comfy, squishy, expensive pillows on all of the pews in all of those churches.
Priests usually all wear the same robes for Mass and dress in black during the times when they are not celebrating Mass. Would women priests be willing to all dress alike all of the time? Incense is burned during the Mass. Soon there would be No Smoking signs all over the church and the scent of incense would only be a memory.
IAt the end of each pew there would be a bowl of a sweet smelling mixture of herbs and flowers. The Vatican might approve of this as there is a chance that they could garner some income from it. Churches could be required to buy Popepourri only from the Vatican. This could be added to by marketing Popeland Springs water for the baptismal and entrance holy water fonts. I can envision the ad now.
"Popeland Springs, coming to you straight from Rome.
Popeland Springs from the spring beneath the Dome.".
Many secrets are divulged in Confession. Would women priests be able to keep those juicy little tidbits of misbehavior under their hats during conclaves of each other?
Eventually women would become Cardinals. Cardinals all wear the same red robes and hats. Where would that go? The advantage to the robes would be the extermination of the most dangerous question ever asked. "Does this make my butt look too big?". Why ask such a question when there is only one answer that a non-suicidal male may offer?
In time a woman would become Pope. The Pope has a dazzling assortment of robes that he wears, each delegated to a certain Holy Day. "You expect me to wear the same robe for the Feast of Festivus that I wore last year?". The same would apply to the only hat that the Pope wears. Now comes the biggest roadblock. The Pope always wears the same pair of shoes! Those shoes came into fashion two thousand years ago. They would be as popular as yesterday's fish.
Sooner or later all of Christianity must reunite. There would be an ecumenical Pope. Who would get the most votes to become Pope? My money is on Doctor Phil or Oprah.
Then would come the cost of changing all of the Bibles in the world, there are a lot of them.
"Our Father/Mother, who art in heaven". Changing all of the He's to S/He might cost a bit.
Then comes the changes in the Holy Eucharist. No more plain white wafers. Whole grain, no carbohydrate, yoghurt based wafers would be the business to be in.
Lastly, the concept of priests marrying. This would put an end to all of the nuns in the world. All convents would have to become co-ed. I can hear the comment now. "I saw you staring at that black robed hussy.".
There are not enough funds left in the Church to provide on-site day care for every church in the world. There would be a saving on wine because priests would not be allowed to start drinking before noon time on Sunday. Every church would have to have a woman priest to celebrate the new Sacrament of Abortion (which, if men gave birth would already be a Sacrament). This topic brings to mind an anecdote.
The Pope was making a speech from the balcony of Saint Peter's. The speech was about birth control being a sin.
A little old Italian lady was in the front row of the assembled crowd. After the speech was over she stood up and cried out "You no playa da game, you no maka da rules".
There remains the problem of certain priests with little boys. I have no tolerance for this situation. Some old Protestant sects have a solution for deviant behavior. They remove the offending member. I suggest this be done with a dull chain saw. This could be done on the Feast of Saint Abelard.
Didn't the Old Testament have a solution for this problem? I don't know what the citizens of Gommorah were guity of but I do know what the others were guilty of. It is an abomination!
The Church and the Boy Scouts and the Congressional pages could find a solution if they would emulate the Cub Scouts. The Cub Scouts don't have Den Fathers. They have Den Mothers. Keep the boys way from the men when they are so young that they are vulnerable. Of course I am sure if the Cub Scout organization starts waving some money around, they too will have violated thirty year olds coming out of the woodwork.
First of all, the expense that the Church would incur. Imagine all of the Catholic churches all over the world. Multiply that by the number of huge stained glass windows in those churches. Imagine how much it would cost to put draperies or curtains on all of those windows. Imagine how much it would cost to put comfy, squishy, expensive pillows on all of the pews in all of those churches.
Priests usually all wear the same robes for Mass and dress in black during the times when they are not celebrating Mass. Would women priests be willing to all dress alike all of the time? Incense is burned during the Mass. Soon there would be No Smoking signs all over the church and the scent of incense would only be a memory.
IAt the end of each pew there would be a bowl of a sweet smelling mixture of herbs and flowers. The Vatican might approve of this as there is a chance that they could garner some income from it. Churches could be required to buy Popepourri only from the Vatican. This could be added to by marketing Popeland Springs water for the baptismal and entrance holy water fonts. I can envision the ad now.
"Popeland Springs, coming to you straight from Rome.
Popeland Springs from the spring beneath the Dome.".
Many secrets are divulged in Confession. Would women priests be able to keep those juicy little tidbits of misbehavior under their hats during conclaves of each other?
Eventually women would become Cardinals. Cardinals all wear the same red robes and hats. Where would that go? The advantage to the robes would be the extermination of the most dangerous question ever asked. "Does this make my butt look too big?". Why ask such a question when there is only one answer that a non-suicidal male may offer?
In time a woman would become Pope. The Pope has a dazzling assortment of robes that he wears, each delegated to a certain Holy Day. "You expect me to wear the same robe for the Feast of Festivus that I wore last year?". The same would apply to the only hat that the Pope wears. Now comes the biggest roadblock. The Pope always wears the same pair of shoes! Those shoes came into fashion two thousand years ago. They would be as popular as yesterday's fish.
Sooner or later all of Christianity must reunite. There would be an ecumenical Pope. Who would get the most votes to become Pope? My money is on Doctor Phil or Oprah.
Then would come the cost of changing all of the Bibles in the world, there are a lot of them.
"Our Father/Mother, who art in heaven". Changing all of the He's to S/He might cost a bit.
Then comes the changes in the Holy Eucharist. No more plain white wafers. Whole grain, no carbohydrate, yoghurt based wafers would be the business to be in.
Lastly, the concept of priests marrying. This would put an end to all of the nuns in the world. All convents would have to become co-ed. I can hear the comment now. "I saw you staring at that black robed hussy.".
There are not enough funds left in the Church to provide on-site day care for every church in the world. There would be a saving on wine because priests would not be allowed to start drinking before noon time on Sunday. Every church would have to have a woman priest to celebrate the new Sacrament of Abortion (which, if men gave birth would already be a Sacrament). This topic brings to mind an anecdote.
The Pope was making a speech from the balcony of Saint Peter's. The speech was about birth control being a sin.
A little old Italian lady was in the front row of the assembled crowd. After the speech was over she stood up and cried out "You no playa da game, you no maka da rules".
There remains the problem of certain priests with little boys. I have no tolerance for this situation. Some old Protestant sects have a solution for deviant behavior. They remove the offending member. I suggest this be done with a dull chain saw. This could be done on the Feast of Saint Abelard.
Didn't the Old Testament have a solution for this problem? I don't know what the citizens of Gommorah were guity of but I do know what the others were guilty of. It is an abomination!
The Church and the Boy Scouts and the Congressional pages could find a solution if they would emulate the Cub Scouts. The Cub Scouts don't have Den Fathers. They have Den Mothers. Keep the boys way from the men when they are so young that they are vulnerable. Of course I am sure if the Cub Scout organization starts waving some money around, they too will have violated thirty year olds coming out of the woodwork.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Better than
I was saddened to learn of Helen Thomas's remarks to the press. Is this what happens to us all when we get older or are those remarks just the emerging of long held beliefs? For a lady with such gifts of knowledge and ability it is sad to see such a misguided view of history and the present.
There are a lot of people that harbor anti-semitism both here and overseas. It is often said that Jews think that they are better than everyone else. They think that they are smarter and more able than the rest of the human race. A careful reading of their holy scriptures and ours will reveal that Jews don't think that they are better than everyone else. Just God does.
Jews are the only nation that has retained its national identity, remember that a nation has nothing to do with geography. I guess the promise that was made to their nation is slowly coming true. Wouldn't it be wonderful if the entire human race decided to become the Human Nation? Maybe a start would be to drop the "s" from the United Nations. The roads to Megiddo should be lined with olive trees, not bunkers. It might be a good place to relocate the UN headquarters to. That might give the UN delegates a different view on peace in the middle east and allowing the spread of nuclear weapons or WMD's as the term was changed to when it was discovered that the head of the most powerful country on Earth could not pronounce the word nuclear properly.
There are a lot of people that harbor anti-semitism both here and overseas. It is often said that Jews think that they are better than everyone else. They think that they are smarter and more able than the rest of the human race. A careful reading of their holy scriptures and ours will reveal that Jews don't think that they are better than everyone else. Just God does.
Jews are the only nation that has retained its national identity, remember that a nation has nothing to do with geography. I guess the promise that was made to their nation is slowly coming true. Wouldn't it be wonderful if the entire human race decided to become the Human Nation? Maybe a start would be to drop the "s" from the United Nations. The roads to Megiddo should be lined with olive trees, not bunkers. It might be a good place to relocate the UN headquarters to. That might give the UN delegates a different view on peace in the middle east and allowing the spread of nuclear weapons or WMD's as the term was changed to when it was discovered that the head of the most powerful country on Earth could not pronounce the word nuclear properly.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Lately
Lately I have been trying to meditate. The concept seems so easy, just concentrate on one thing. The time I choose to do this is when I am in a horizontal position. I like to call this my pre-nap thinking. The thinking rattles around in my mind like a marble in a boxcar. Think about one thing only, I find that almost impossible to do. Thoughts about the present and the past and the future announce their presence in a cacaphony of images and ideas.
Last night I started thinking about thinking. Why can't I just think about one thing? Why do I want to meditate? It is not as if my life is filled with crisis and confusion. I live very simply. I do what I want, when I want, and if I want. I cook, I read, I walk, and here is the culprit, I watch television. I watch PBS and Two and a Half Men.
PBS, slowly I turned, step by step...... PBS is the problem. They constantly deal with the brain and yoga and meditation and the need to address the vagaries of modern living. What vagaries, I live like people did three hundred years ago. I have no pressing needs or worrisome tribulations, my life is just easing on down the road counting each moment that avoids that long grey night as a bonus. PBS is not good for me. There should be more Two and a Half Men. Charlie has the right idea about life. Wouldn't we all be happy to live his life? Unfortunately I am not like Charlie. I am very much like his brother Alan. Silly misgivings and remembrances and lamenting the past are constantly on my mind. Dealing with such thoughts will not be accomplished by meditation. I must learn to deal with such thoughts by telling them, to paraphrase the Poet, "Out damned thought!". Sure, like that is going to work! I just tried to concentrate on that one thought and the image of Durham forest on the move rushed in. That brings on the thought of transplanting the tomatoes, which I accomplished yesterday. So the kaleidoscope of images and thoughts will continue. I am used to it and it is an old and welcome friend. Lay On McThought! Does Dunsinane have enough tomatoes? I have more than enough cilantro if it needs some. Do Spanish Mothers threaten to wash out their children's mouth with cilantro if they use bad language?
Meditate, sure, there is a lot of hope in that direction. Yoga, if I need more exercise I will move further away from the library and take out bigger books. Daniel Amen, you are a wimpy little self-promoting book seller. You are very smart and great but you already know that.
Last night I started thinking about thinking. Why can't I just think about one thing? Why do I want to meditate? It is not as if my life is filled with crisis and confusion. I live very simply. I do what I want, when I want, and if I want. I cook, I read, I walk, and here is the culprit, I watch television. I watch PBS and Two and a Half Men.
PBS, slowly I turned, step by step...... PBS is the problem. They constantly deal with the brain and yoga and meditation and the need to address the vagaries of modern living. What vagaries, I live like people did three hundred years ago. I have no pressing needs or worrisome tribulations, my life is just easing on down the road counting each moment that avoids that long grey night as a bonus. PBS is not good for me. There should be more Two and a Half Men. Charlie has the right idea about life. Wouldn't we all be happy to live his life? Unfortunately I am not like Charlie. I am very much like his brother Alan. Silly misgivings and remembrances and lamenting the past are constantly on my mind. Dealing with such thoughts will not be accomplished by meditation. I must learn to deal with such thoughts by telling them, to paraphrase the Poet, "Out damned thought!". Sure, like that is going to work! I just tried to concentrate on that one thought and the image of Durham forest on the move rushed in. That brings on the thought of transplanting the tomatoes, which I accomplished yesterday. So the kaleidoscope of images and thoughts will continue. I am used to it and it is an old and welcome friend. Lay On McThought! Does Dunsinane have enough tomatoes? I have more than enough cilantro if it needs some. Do Spanish Mothers threaten to wash out their children's mouth with cilantro if they use bad language?
Meditate, sure, there is a lot of hope in that direction. Yoga, if I need more exercise I will move further away from the library and take out bigger books. Daniel Amen, you are a wimpy little self-promoting book seller. You are very smart and great but you already know that.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Creepy
The weather here has taken a turn to creepy. It is very calm. There are sporadic flashes of lightening. The muted thunder signifies that the lightening is far away. It is very warm, not hot but very warm. It is moist. The humidity must be fairly high. If I were living in Nebraska I would be heading for the storm cellar. About sixty years ago there was a very serious tornado in Worcester, which is about ten miles from here. A cool breeze would be nice and reassuring about now.
Every time I see the word creep, I think of Watergate. The Committee to Re-Elect the President was the mastermind behind the break-in. How appropriate.
I don't remember if President Nixon was impeached. All he did was subvert almost all of the laws of the United States of America. Later findings indicated that the reason that the Democrats pursued him so vehemently was that CREEP had dried up all the Democrats traditional areas of political contributions. The symbol of the Republican Party is the elephant. Elephants have long memories. President Clinton boinked some bimbo. The Republicans saw their chance for revenge and leapt. So we ended up with a Republican President and we all know how that ended up.
One way to solve the financial problems of the government might be to broadcast the daily workings of the government as a soap opera. The ratings would be stupendous and the resulting advertising income might help to reduce the national debt. Then would come the Summer when NCIS (No Congress In Session) would come on. The American people would have a chance to relax for, as the pundit said, "No man's life or property is safe while the Legislature is in session.".
President Clinton, I miss you. It was a simpler time. There was a huge surplus in the budget, you refused to send troops to Africa, there was a trombone player in the White House, and the President was concerned with boinking, not bombing. I wish that he could run again. Times have certainly changed.
Every time I see the word creep, I think of Watergate. The Committee to Re-Elect the President was the mastermind behind the break-in. How appropriate.
I don't remember if President Nixon was impeached. All he did was subvert almost all of the laws of the United States of America. Later findings indicated that the reason that the Democrats pursued him so vehemently was that CREEP had dried up all the Democrats traditional areas of political contributions. The symbol of the Republican Party is the elephant. Elephants have long memories. President Clinton boinked some bimbo. The Republicans saw their chance for revenge and leapt. So we ended up with a Republican President and we all know how that ended up.
One way to solve the financial problems of the government might be to broadcast the daily workings of the government as a soap opera. The ratings would be stupendous and the resulting advertising income might help to reduce the national debt. Then would come the Summer when NCIS (No Congress In Session) would come on. The American people would have a chance to relax for, as the pundit said, "No man's life or property is safe while the Legislature is in session.".
President Clinton, I miss you. It was a simpler time. There was a huge surplus in the budget, you refused to send troops to Africa, there was a trombone player in the White House, and the President was concerned with boinking, not bombing. I wish that he could run again. Times have certainly changed.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
The Search is Over
Diogenes,
blow out your lamp. Your search is over and you have uncovered two not one. Their names are Paul and Leslie.
One could have expected it from Paul, because I see the same stirling personal ethical code shining from his eyes that I saw in my Father's eyes. Leslie is a star, shining brightly with integrity, in a universe of shoddy morals. That Diogenes could find two such people inhabiting the same house is almost a miracle.
As the Pennsylvania Dutch used to say:
"Birds mitt mun feather
Flock mitt other birds.".
blow out your lamp. Your search is over and you have uncovered two not one. Their names are Paul and Leslie.
One could have expected it from Paul, because I see the same stirling personal ethical code shining from his eyes that I saw in my Father's eyes. Leslie is a star, shining brightly with integrity, in a universe of shoddy morals. That Diogenes could find two such people inhabiting the same house is almost a miracle.
As the Pennsylvania Dutch used to say:
"Birds mitt mun feather
Flock mitt other birds.".
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