I’ve been reading a wide range of articles this morning, most of which have made my stomach turn sour. I should know better than to eat prior to reading about our Community Organizer In Chief; but I’m a glutton for punishment.
Maybe you’re familiar with the movie, Contact, with Jodie Foster playing the lead role. There’s a noise which lands on the massive radio gathering array at Arecibo, millions and millions of tax dollars spent to listen for “little green men”, as her character’s quest is maligned by those in a position to destroy her career. She’s got a set of headphones on, her eyes closed as the cosmos is probed and stalked by huge telescope receivers aimed to the farthest reaches.
Suddenly she hears the awaited “contact” from a distant civilization, an odd distortion of sounds which crackled out prime number sequences, such sequences guaranteeing a higher intellect sent them rather than being coincidentally manufactured. “Occam’s Razor!”, always wanted to say something scientific; “Global Warming?”; but now I’m getting carried away with myself.
I read where some folks might have been put off or insulted by the lack of social graces Obama has shown while accepting his Nobel Peace Prize and yet skipping out on formal gatherings normally associated with such an honor. While reading the article I heard that same distortion of sounds, the ones that came from somewhere in the cosmos near the Vegan star group; except this sound came from my abdominal area.
Never mind Obama’s warning to the Senate to hurry up with Cap & Trade legislation or the EPA would start imposing “command-and-control” in ways that would hurt business . No, that wouldn’t be enough to roil my gastrointestinal system; had to be more than that.
Perhaps it had to do with reading about “the complete devaluation of the currency and the destruction of the economy on the road to enslaving the populace…” Third World County , as have many others, attempted to warn of the effects as Obama and his minions implement and use the Cloward-Piven Strategy. No, that’s couldn’t be what has me holding my legs together against the building pressure. It could be I caught that “nasty bug”, the one Lucy had a couple of days ago and had her down and out, belching the most obnoxious fumes imaginable around the clock.
We used to have an expression, common and hardly worth sharing in polite society; but when ever a night shift officer excused himself to use the restroom, it wasn’t unusual to hear another officer remind him, “Flush once for the Chief’s office, twice for the Mayor”. You’ll have to excuse the brevity of my article; I’ll remember to flush a “few” times and wash my hands real good before returning.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Were Climate Scientists Pressured to Sign Petition?
There’s an article posted on the Times Online, Top Scientists Rally to Defence of Met Office , ( gotta’ wonder about a headline where they can’t even spell defense ), explaining how 1,700 scientists jumped on the bandwagon to support the “consensus” known as global warming science.
““One scientist told The Times he felt under pressure to sign. “The Met Office is a major employer of scientists and has long had a policy of only appointing and working with those who subscribe to their views on man-made global warming,” he said.”
“Professor Slingo (Met’s chief scientist) denied that the Met Office had put anyone under pressure. “The response has been absolutely spontaneous. As a scientist you sign things you agree with, not because you are worried about what the Met Office might think of you,” she said.”
You could go read the rest of the article; but those two paragraphs sum up how things work in the real world; the folks who write and sign your pay check have considerable influence on how you speak out in public.
Quite some time back when working as a police officer I was handed a petition to sign. It was the end of my shift and back near where officers turned in their hand held radios, far from the supervisor’s offices. The petition was aimed at getting one of our supervisors listed as “Supervisor of the Year”; a half hearted attempt to save this same supervisor from some rather awkward complaints which had recently cropped up.
Without going into details, something which would be unfair to all involved, let me just say that I started laughing at the thought, handing back their clip board without signing, “You’re joking right? This is the same guy who…”, like I said, no details, no names; protecting the guilty as well as the innocent was part of the old black and white cop show, “My names Friday, my partner and I work in the city…”
I should also explain as I broke out in laughter, an honest gut reaction to such a ridiculous ploy to save the butt of a worthless excuse of a supervisor, having handed the petition back without my signature; you guessed it, that very same supervisor had been standing around the corner taking note of who signed and who didn’t. You could say that it was “awkward”; but that would be too kind; I still had to work a couple of years to complete the requirements for retirement.
Getting back to the global warming petition which the Met generated and asked its employees to sign; if you believe there was no pressure on those scientists to sign, to keep their jobs; I’ll let you bid on some ocean front property up for sale in West Texas. The fellow who signed the Magna Charta , ole' what's his name, wasn’t under pressure either; he just wanted to make the little people happy that day, what a crock!
““One scientist told The Times he felt under pressure to sign. “The Met Office is a major employer of scientists and has long had a policy of only appointing and working with those who subscribe to their views on man-made global warming,” he said.”
“Professor Slingo (Met’s chief scientist) denied that the Met Office had put anyone under pressure. “The response has been absolutely spontaneous. As a scientist you sign things you agree with, not because you are worried about what the Met Office might think of you,” she said.”
You could go read the rest of the article; but those two paragraphs sum up how things work in the real world; the folks who write and sign your pay check have considerable influence on how you speak out in public.
Quite some time back when working as a police officer I was handed a petition to sign. It was the end of my shift and back near where officers turned in their hand held radios, far from the supervisor’s offices. The petition was aimed at getting one of our supervisors listed as “Supervisor of the Year”; a half hearted attempt to save this same supervisor from some rather awkward complaints which had recently cropped up.
Without going into details, something which would be unfair to all involved, let me just say that I started laughing at the thought, handing back their clip board without signing, “You’re joking right? This is the same guy who…”, like I said, no details, no names; protecting the guilty as well as the innocent was part of the old black and white cop show, “My names Friday, my partner and I work in the city…”
I should also explain as I broke out in laughter, an honest gut reaction to such a ridiculous ploy to save the butt of a worthless excuse of a supervisor, having handed the petition back without my signature; you guessed it, that very same supervisor had been standing around the corner taking note of who signed and who didn’t. You could say that it was “awkward”; but that would be too kind; I still had to work a couple of years to complete the requirements for retirement.
Getting back to the global warming petition which the Met generated and asked its employees to sign; if you believe there was no pressure on those scientists to sign, to keep their jobs; I’ll let you bid on some ocean front property up for sale in West Texas. The fellow who signed the Magna Charta , ole' what's his name, wasn’t under pressure either; he just wanted to make the little people happy that day, what a crock!
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Handel Might Have Second Thoughts
I found this video at Lords of the Manor , a tip of the hat for bringing a smile to my face. Here’s to my friend Russ, who loves this piece of music; forgive me if it takes liberties with one of the best ever Christmas presentations.
EPA Lights Fuse - Destruction Imminent
In case you’ve been sleeping in a cave these past several years with no means of keeping up with the current events, the industrialized nation known as the United States of America, at one time world leader in production and quality of living, is headed toward shut down, perhaps its final resting place. A little checking on the internet will bring you up to speed; starting with a piece by Phil Kerpen, which echoes my feeling, EPA’s Greenhouse Gases Declaration – Putting America On the Road to Ruin .
“Today the EPA declared greenhouse gases a danger to public health. And here’s the bottom line: The biggest threat to Americans, when it comes to huge new energy taxes and government controls, is not from legislation, it’s from regulation.”
“President Obama, White House Climate Czar Carol Browner, and their Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) are not waiting for Congress to pass cap-and-trade. Shrugging off the Climate-gate scandal, today EPA administration Lisa Jackson issues a so-called "endangerment finding," paving the way for onerous greenhouse gas regulations to be shoehorned into the 1970 Clean Air Act.”
That’s really all you need to read to understand the gravity of the situation as reason and common sense are tossed aside in favor of totalitarian rule through pure fascism. This should scare the hell out of anyone paying attention. The constitution be damned and full speed ahead into oblivion, that appears to be the agenda of the Obama administration, congress and the many and varied bureaucracies which now place America at the precipice of collapse.
Dennis Avery, in an enlightening interview regarding Global Warming and the hoax that it really is was quoted, when asked about the Kyoto Agreement and currently considered Cap & Trade legislation:
“They're really talking about going back to the Great Depression. Nobody has a car, nobody could afford the fuel if they had a car. They're talking about living a hundred yards from the factory, except there isn't going to be a factory because there is not going to be any coal burning to power it. No nuclear power, no drilling for oil, no hope.”
The so called “consensus” among scientists is anything but that according to an interview with Dr. Easterbrook in the New York Times, as he quoted other notable scientists.
“"Hardly a week goes by," Dr. Peiser said, "without a new research paper that questions part or even some basics of climate change theory," including some reports that offer alternatives to human activity for global warming.”
{…}
“In October, Dr. Easterbrook made similar points at the geological society meeting in Philadelphia. He hotly disputed Mr. Gore's claim that "our civilization has never experienced any environmental shift remotely similar to this" threatened change.
Nonsense, Dr. Easterbrook told the crowded session. He flashed a slide that showed temperature trends for the past 15,000 years. It highlighted 10 large swings, including the medieval warm period. These shifts, he said, were up to "20 times greater than the warming in the past century."
John Hawkins’ article, Four Colossal Holes in the Theory of Man Made Global Warming , follows this line of thought as well:
“Repeating the words "scientific consensus" over and over and telling sad stories about polar bears does not qualify as "science." So, why is it that the people who insist that Man-made global warming is based on science, not politics, always get shaky and defensive when people want to actually talk about the reasoning behind it?”
I couldn’t tell you the number of times I’ve had something along the lines, “The debate is over, Man Made Global Warming is Real”, thrown at me as if by doing so made it plausible. Shutting down reason and going with the herd hasn’t done well for the Lemming, and that's what the Climate Change/Global Warming alarmists would have us do.
Anyone who dares to question the data, ( data which has now been found to be either “fudged” or flat out fabricated), the science ( some data intentionally ignored when it didn’t fit the global alarmist’s agenda), the motives or those in charge (the social engineers who always know better than the average hicks) are ridiculed and targeted for destruction. Character assassination is the favorite tool used against folks, often highly educated in their fields of science, who happen to have an opinion contrary to the man made global warming alarmists, who cannot defend their position with facts. Remember this as you write in your journals.
You might start today’s entry, December 8, 2009, with a line which Phillip Klein reminded me of in his news piece, EPA Ruling Paves Way For Regulation of Carbon :
“Lisa Jackson, the administrator of the Environmental Protection Agency, made these intentions clear in her opening memo to employees in January 2009. “EPA will stand ready to help Congress craft strong, science-based climate legislation that fulfills the vision of the President,” she wrote, adding, “As Congress does its work, we will move ahead to comply with the Supreme Court’s decision recognizing EPA’s obligation to address climate change under the Clean Air Act.”
The subtleties included in Lisa Jackson statement foretold this day, the day when liberty was thrown in the toilet in favor of totalitarian fascism. Today the fuse has been lighted and our destruction is imminent; the strings of industrial production have been ripped from their rightful handlers and handed over to puppet masters. To the next generation, you would have enjoyed the America I once knew.
Forgive us for having lost the liberties and freedoms you might have had prior to the mandated New World Order, a direct link to the Church of Climate Change/Global Warming. There are no governments on the face of the earth which permit individual liberty or exercised use of private property. The words Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness meant something at one time; but that America no longer exists. This day marked the beginning of the end; “The Great Experiment” is completed in your viewing.
Or, by some marginal possibility, enough plain average hicks can stand up in a common cause and take back our country from these arrogant pricks. “We The People” can turn things around and make America work the way it was intended to by our Founding Fathers.
That’s what you could write in your journal today…
“Today the EPA declared greenhouse gases a danger to public health. And here’s the bottom line: The biggest threat to Americans, when it comes to huge new energy taxes and government controls, is not from legislation, it’s from regulation.”
“President Obama, White House Climate Czar Carol Browner, and their Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) are not waiting for Congress to pass cap-and-trade. Shrugging off the Climate-gate scandal, today EPA administration Lisa Jackson issues a so-called "endangerment finding," paving the way for onerous greenhouse gas regulations to be shoehorned into the 1970 Clean Air Act.”
That’s really all you need to read to understand the gravity of the situation as reason and common sense are tossed aside in favor of totalitarian rule through pure fascism. This should scare the hell out of anyone paying attention. The constitution be damned and full speed ahead into oblivion, that appears to be the agenda of the Obama administration, congress and the many and varied bureaucracies which now place America at the precipice of collapse.
Dennis Avery, in an enlightening interview regarding Global Warming and the hoax that it really is was quoted, when asked about the Kyoto Agreement and currently considered Cap & Trade legislation:
“They're really talking about going back to the Great Depression. Nobody has a car, nobody could afford the fuel if they had a car. They're talking about living a hundred yards from the factory, except there isn't going to be a factory because there is not going to be any coal burning to power it. No nuclear power, no drilling for oil, no hope.”
The so called “consensus” among scientists is anything but that according to an interview with Dr. Easterbrook in the New York Times, as he quoted other notable scientists.
“"Hardly a week goes by," Dr. Peiser said, "without a new research paper that questions part or even some basics of climate change theory," including some reports that offer alternatives to human activity for global warming.”
{…}
“In October, Dr. Easterbrook made similar points at the geological society meeting in Philadelphia. He hotly disputed Mr. Gore's claim that "our civilization has never experienced any environmental shift remotely similar to this" threatened change.
Nonsense, Dr. Easterbrook told the crowded session. He flashed a slide that showed temperature trends for the past 15,000 years. It highlighted 10 large swings, including the medieval warm period. These shifts, he said, were up to "20 times greater than the warming in the past century."
John Hawkins’ article, Four Colossal Holes in the Theory of Man Made Global Warming , follows this line of thought as well:
“Repeating the words "scientific consensus" over and over and telling sad stories about polar bears does not qualify as "science." So, why is it that the people who insist that Man-made global warming is based on science, not politics, always get shaky and defensive when people want to actually talk about the reasoning behind it?”
I couldn’t tell you the number of times I’ve had something along the lines, “The debate is over, Man Made Global Warming is Real”, thrown at me as if by doing so made it plausible. Shutting down reason and going with the herd hasn’t done well for the Lemming, and that's what the Climate Change/Global Warming alarmists would have us do.
Anyone who dares to question the data, ( data which has now been found to be either “fudged” or flat out fabricated), the science ( some data intentionally ignored when it didn’t fit the global alarmist’s agenda), the motives or those in charge (the social engineers who always know better than the average hicks) are ridiculed and targeted for destruction. Character assassination is the favorite tool used against folks, often highly educated in their fields of science, who happen to have an opinion contrary to the man made global warming alarmists, who cannot defend their position with facts. Remember this as you write in your journals.
You might start today’s entry, December 8, 2009, with a line which Phillip Klein reminded me of in his news piece, EPA Ruling Paves Way For Regulation of Carbon :
“Lisa Jackson, the administrator of the Environmental Protection Agency, made these intentions clear in her opening memo to employees in January 2009. “EPA will stand ready to help Congress craft strong, science-based climate legislation that fulfills the vision of the President,” she wrote, adding, “As Congress does its work, we will move ahead to comply with the Supreme Court’s decision recognizing EPA’s obligation to address climate change under the Clean Air Act.”
The subtleties included in Lisa Jackson statement foretold this day, the day when liberty was thrown in the toilet in favor of totalitarian fascism. Today the fuse has been lighted and our destruction is imminent; the strings of industrial production have been ripped from their rightful handlers and handed over to puppet masters. To the next generation, you would have enjoyed the America I once knew.
Forgive us for having lost the liberties and freedoms you might have had prior to the mandated New World Order, a direct link to the Church of Climate Change/Global Warming. There are no governments on the face of the earth which permit individual liberty or exercised use of private property. The words Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness meant something at one time; but that America no longer exists. This day marked the beginning of the end; “The Great Experiment” is completed in your viewing.
Or, by some marginal possibility, enough plain average hicks can stand up in a common cause and take back our country from these arrogant pricks. “We The People” can turn things around and make America work the way it was intended to by our Founding Fathers.
That’s what you could write in your journal today…
Friday, December 04, 2009
Mary Did You Know - One of Lucy’s Favorite Christmas Songs
Each year one of our music stations plays continuous Christmas music from Thanksgiving on through Christmas Day. Some folks find that a bit annoying; then again there are all those other stations to pick from, so what room have they to complain.
One of Lucy’s favorite songs, Mary Did You Know; was posted on her Facebook page yesterday. We listened to it, tears streaming down our cheeks as the message of the Gospel flowed clearly and beautifully through their offering. It occurred to me, this song fits the category of Gospel in a nutshell , no different than passages of scripture which, in a few short paragraphs of written word, are able to explain the focal point of Christian faith.
One of Lucy’s favorite songs, Mary Did You Know; was posted on her Facebook page yesterday. We listened to it, tears streaming down our cheeks as the message of the Gospel flowed clearly and beautifully through their offering. It occurred to me, this song fits the category of Gospel in a nutshell , no different than passages of scripture which, in a few short paragraphs of written word, are able to explain the focal point of Christian faith.
Snow in Houston a Possibility Today
I know, folks from up north are laughing; but the possibility of Houston getting a couple of inches of snow is big news around here. We can handle an occasional hurricane or tornado; but my goodness, snow? The chance of white stuff falling from the air, it doesn’t even have to stick to the ground to be news worthy ; it’s something that will shut the whole city down.
I was at the local Home Depot yesterday and bought a heater to put out in the garage for our Hobo Kitties , wouldn’t feel right letting them suffer and they’re not comfortable about entering the wash room area where it would be even better for them. And anyway, even if the Hobo Kitties did figure out that the laundry room was better, what about their friend, Peppe Le Pew ?
While at the hardware store I found a replacement piece of shiny bright chrome metal to cover up the overflow safety slot where the old one had been, my plumber’s lingo lacks correct terminology; but I’m getting ahead of myself again. The other day Lucy pointed out that the lever cover, the one in the tub that’s supposed to make it possible to take a bath, the one that keeps the water from going down the hole at the bottom of the tub; but that hasn’t worked since the day we bought the house. Where was I, that cover plate thingy was hanging down and looked pretty ugly. It’s one of those oxymorons, a pretty ugly piece of metal that at one time was shiny chrome and covered the workings, the workings that didn’t work, so we use one of those rubber plugs that only cost a dollar instead of having a plumber come out to fix and takes a mortgage payment for two hours work.
I’d fixed the “cover plate thingy” the other day, some real “jury rigging” if I do say so myself. The steel screws that held the cover plate to the tub had rusted clean off were not coming out so I used an “easy out” on what was left. I took the broken toggle and cover out to the garage, drilled a hole on the broken end of the toggle and put it back together using a flat washer, made from an old GM door lock pawl cut to size with a Dremmel Tool, a flat washer, one that actually was made to be a flat washer and separated it with a spring, cut to size, from my box of old parts that can never be thrown away because they are perfect for jobs requiring imagination and motivation, all held together with a cotter pin, the original cotter pin that was on the back of the broken tub thingy and wasn’t hooked up to the rod thingy because the toggle was broken. I buffed the old pitted surface of what used to be a shiny chrome cover, it still looked less than appealing; but good enough to cover a hole in the side of my tub for a day or so.
Since we now have a brand new chrome tub cover thingy, I may hang the refurbished tub cover thingy on the Christmas tree as an ornament; as much effort as went into it deserves a place on the tree, right next to the broken door handle assembly from a Mazda 626 we used to own. Now and then I write about various Christmas ornaments and how they came to be important to us. America is where the impossible happens on a regular basis; imagine, it might snow this afternoon in Houston.
I was at the local Home Depot yesterday and bought a heater to put out in the garage for our Hobo Kitties , wouldn’t feel right letting them suffer and they’re not comfortable about entering the wash room area where it would be even better for them. And anyway, even if the Hobo Kitties did figure out that the laundry room was better, what about their friend, Peppe Le Pew ?
While at the hardware store I found a replacement piece of shiny bright chrome metal to cover up the overflow safety slot where the old one had been, my plumber’s lingo lacks correct terminology; but I’m getting ahead of myself again. The other day Lucy pointed out that the lever cover, the one in the tub that’s supposed to make it possible to take a bath, the one that keeps the water from going down the hole at the bottom of the tub; but that hasn’t worked since the day we bought the house. Where was I, that cover plate thingy was hanging down and looked pretty ugly. It’s one of those oxymorons, a pretty ugly piece of metal that at one time was shiny chrome and covered the workings, the workings that didn’t work, so we use one of those rubber plugs that only cost a dollar instead of having a plumber come out to fix and takes a mortgage payment for two hours work.
I’d fixed the “cover plate thingy” the other day, some real “jury rigging” if I do say so myself. The steel screws that held the cover plate to the tub had rusted clean off were not coming out so I used an “easy out” on what was left. I took the broken toggle and cover out to the garage, drilled a hole on the broken end of the toggle and put it back together using a flat washer, made from an old GM door lock pawl cut to size with a Dremmel Tool, a flat washer, one that actually was made to be a flat washer and separated it with a spring, cut to size, from my box of old parts that can never be thrown away because they are perfect for jobs requiring imagination and motivation, all held together with a cotter pin, the original cotter pin that was on the back of the broken tub thingy and wasn’t hooked up to the rod thingy because the toggle was broken. I buffed the old pitted surface of what used to be a shiny chrome cover, it still looked less than appealing; but good enough to cover a hole in the side of my tub for a day or so.
Since we now have a brand new chrome tub cover thingy, I may hang the refurbished tub cover thingy on the Christmas tree as an ornament; as much effort as went into it deserves a place on the tree, right next to the broken door handle assembly from a Mazda 626 we used to own. Now and then I write about various Christmas ornaments and how they came to be important to us. America is where the impossible happens on a regular basis; imagine, it might snow this afternoon in Houston.
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
Navy Honor
I bet you didn’t see this in the newspaper or on the 6 o’clock new. An old sea dog friend of mine sent this to me via email, the pictures were in a format I couldn’t figure out how to save other than to get my digital camera and grab them that way, sorry if the detail isn’t as crisp as it might have been otherwise. The presentation format has been altered only slightly from the way it showed up in my email.
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The Sailor Pictured Is Navy Petty Officer Mike Monsoor, PO2 (Petty Officer, Second Class) EOD2 (Explosive Ordnance Disposal, Second Class)
The Sailor Pictured Is Navy Petty Officer Mike Monsoor, PO2 (Petty Officer, Second Class) EOD2 (Explosive Ordnance Disposal, Second Class)
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April 5th, 1981 ~ September 19th, 2009
April 5th, 1981 ~ September 19th, 2009
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Mike Monsoor, was awarded "the Congressional Medal of Honor" last week, for giving his life in Iraq, as he jumped on, and covered with his body, a live hand grenade, that was accidentally dropped by a Navy Seal, saving the lives of a large group of Navy Seals that was passing by!
Mike Monsoor, was awarded "the Congressional Medal of Honor" last week, for giving his life in Iraq, as he jumped on, and covered with his body, a live hand grenade, that was accidentally dropped by a Navy Seal, saving the lives of a large group of Navy Seals that was passing by!
*
During Mike Monsoor’s funeral, at Ft. Rosecrans National Cemetery, in San Diego, California the six pallbearers removed the rosewood casket from the hearse, and lined up on each side of Mike Monsoor’s casket, were his family members, friends, fellow sailors, and well-wishers.
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The column of people continued from the hearse, all the way to the grave site.
During Mike Monsoor’s funeral, at Ft. Rosecrans National Cemetery, in San Diego, California the six pallbearers removed the rosewood casket from the hearse, and lined up on each side of Mike Monsoor’s casket, were his family members, friends, fellow sailors, and well-wishers.
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The column of people continued from the hearse, all the way to the grave site.
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What the group didn’t know at the time was, every Navy Seal (45 to be exact) that Mike Monsoor saved that day was scattered through-out the column! As the pallbearers carried the rosewood casket down the column of people to the grave side, the column would collapse, forming a group of people that followed behind.
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Every time the rosewood casket passed a Navy Seal, he would remove his gold trident pin from his uniform, and slap it down hard, causing the gold trident pin to embed itself into the top of the wooden casket!
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Then the Navy Seal would step back from the column, and salute!
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Now for those, (and original unknown author of this account) who don’t know what a trident pin is, or what it looks like?
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Here is the definition and photo!
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After one completes the basic Navy Seal program which lasts for three weeks, and is followed by Seal qualification training, which is 15 more weeks of training, necessary to continue improving basic skills and to learn new tactics and techniques, required for an assignment to a Navy Seal platoon.
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After successful completion, trainees are given their Naval Enlisted Code, and are awarded the Navy Seal trident pin.
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With this gold pin they are now officially a Navy Seal!
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It was said, that you could hear each of the 45 slaps from across the cemetery!
By the time the rosewood casket reached the grave site, it looked as though it had a gold inlay from the 45 trident pins that lined the top!
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This Was A Fitting End To An Eternal Send-Off For A Warrior Hero!
This Should Be Front-Page News! Instead Of The Garbage We Listen To And See Every Day. Here's A Good Idea! Since The Main Stream Media Won't Make This News. Then We Choose To Make It News By Forwarding It.
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I Am Proud Of All The Branches Of Our Military; rest assured, the fine men and women of our military will continue to serve and protect your freedom and right to do so!
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…and you thought I was going to comment on our POS Commander in Chief who spoke about our new lack of commitment to properly conduct an ongoing war effort, our tails tucked neatly between our legs as we broadcast our lack of resolve…no, words fail my attempts to express my disgust for the community organizer/POTUS.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Your Time Capsule
I wanted to share part of today’s lessons, some from church and some from here at the house. When we got home from our meetings Lucy was smiling as we pulled into our driveway; she’d noticed the Fall colors had made their way into the Houston area. She asked me to snap a few photographs while some left over turkey from Thanksgiving was prepared for lunch.
Here in these two pictures moments in time were captured; a very light breeze, only enough to gently push the paddle which activates the wind chimes; but not enough breeze to generate its music, a healthy Philodendron plant next to the garage and further back the brightly colored leaves of our Crepe Murtle near the back fence. I heard the squirrels protesting loudly on the other side of the yard and it didn’t take long to figure out why; one of the Hobo Cousins, Head Buttr’, was hiding in between the pickets of the wooden fence just below where the squirrels like to play.
At church I was a last minute substitute in Primary, the other substitute was sick. I was asked to give a lesson on the Handcart pioneers who’d made their way to the Salt Lake Valley . That’ a tough lesson to teach, not because I didn’t have enough information; being able to control my emotions from dripping down my cheeks while explaining the many hardships those folks went through.
The Handcarts folks could barely afford the westward trek, taking the clothes they wore on their backs, perhaps a few small personal items, their scriptures and not much else; the size of the cart reduced their options considerably. These folks depended on the wagons to carry food and other provisions; but for the most part, what went on the cart was what they took across the great distance.
Many of them wore out their shoes and had to improvise, taking pieces of cloth to wrap their feet as protection from the sharp rocky ground and cold temperatures as winter fell upon them more quickly than anticipated. When they were ever so close to their destination, the Salt Lake Valley, a terrible storm trapped many of them and threatened their very lives as provisions ran out.
I had the children remove their shoes and imagine how it must have been to walk on and on each day, only to do the same the next day and the day after that. They wouldn’t have had electronic toys to pass the time, no television, no iPods or much to eat. They wouldn’t have a nice house to keep them warm at night; only a fire to keep them warm.
I asked them to consider what item they would have wanted to take with them on such a long trip, something that would fit in the handcart? It would have to be small and not weigh very much; even then their parents would have had to approve even the smallest item.
Sharing Time with these same children added a chance to reinforce my question, “What would you have taken on your handcart?”, as the next instructor brought out a make believe time capsule. She had assembled an assortment of items to be placed within the box which would be found fifty or a hundred years in the future. She then had one of the children begin to place items into the box and explain why it was important. What items would you put in a time capsule that would indicate things that are important to you today?
One of the items picked was the game Trivial Pursuit , a way to express how games are a good way to have fun as a family; but a different thought came to my mind. I thought it represented the less important “things of the world”, efforts spent obtaining stuff we really didn’t need that could have been more productive; maybe I’m looking at things as an adult instead of as a child.
I’d put my scriptures in the time capsule, all marked with favorite passages and notes I’d jotted along the edges of different pages. I’d carefully pack a laptop computer with instructions on its use, battery stored separately, with a high capacity external hard drive so as to be able to have all my writings, favorite music, books, photographs available and even a selection of my favorite movies.
I’d include a smaller sampling of the photographs and printable items in book form, carefully wrapped and protected from the elements, just in case the data or device was damaged by sun spot activity or some other electronic disaster. These printable items would include photographs, blog articles, the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and Bill of Rights and some front page sections of the local newspaper. I’d also include a nice dictionary and thesaurus in the event the finder of these articles needed a Rosetta Stone ,of sorts, to figure out the written samplings.
I might include some coins and paper money as an example of our monetary system and culture , or lack thereof. I might include my old high school class ring or some other piece of jewelry made of gold. Archeologists of the future might not figure out anything else; but they always understand the value of gold.
In the movie, The Time Machine , Mr. Philby asked a long reaching question once he realized the circumstances and the significance of limited space in such a contraption, pondering his friend traveling in time, a friend who’d come back to retrieve a few personal items and some books. Philby turned to the house woman, a woman who knew more about what might be missing, “So, what would you have taken with you, to start your brave new world?”
Here in these two pictures moments in time were captured; a very light breeze, only enough to gently push the paddle which activates the wind chimes; but not enough breeze to generate its music, a healthy Philodendron plant next to the garage and further back the brightly colored leaves of our Crepe Murtle near the back fence. I heard the squirrels protesting loudly on the other side of the yard and it didn’t take long to figure out why; one of the Hobo Cousins, Head Buttr’, was hiding in between the pickets of the wooden fence just below where the squirrels like to play.
At church I was a last minute substitute in Primary, the other substitute was sick. I was asked to give a lesson on the Handcart pioneers who’d made their way to the Salt Lake Valley . That’ a tough lesson to teach, not because I didn’t have enough information; being able to control my emotions from dripping down my cheeks while explaining the many hardships those folks went through.
The Handcarts folks could barely afford the westward trek, taking the clothes they wore on their backs, perhaps a few small personal items, their scriptures and not much else; the size of the cart reduced their options considerably. These folks depended on the wagons to carry food and other provisions; but for the most part, what went on the cart was what they took across the great distance.
Many of them wore out their shoes and had to improvise, taking pieces of cloth to wrap their feet as protection from the sharp rocky ground and cold temperatures as winter fell upon them more quickly than anticipated. When they were ever so close to their destination, the Salt Lake Valley, a terrible storm trapped many of them and threatened their very lives as provisions ran out.
I had the children remove their shoes and imagine how it must have been to walk on and on each day, only to do the same the next day and the day after that. They wouldn’t have had electronic toys to pass the time, no television, no iPods or much to eat. They wouldn’t have a nice house to keep them warm at night; only a fire to keep them warm.
I asked them to consider what item they would have wanted to take with them on such a long trip, something that would fit in the handcart? It would have to be small and not weigh very much; even then their parents would have had to approve even the smallest item.
Sharing Time with these same children added a chance to reinforce my question, “What would you have taken on your handcart?”, as the next instructor brought out a make believe time capsule. She had assembled an assortment of items to be placed within the box which would be found fifty or a hundred years in the future. She then had one of the children begin to place items into the box and explain why it was important. What items would you put in a time capsule that would indicate things that are important to you today?
One of the items picked was the game Trivial Pursuit , a way to express how games are a good way to have fun as a family; but a different thought came to my mind. I thought it represented the less important “things of the world”, efforts spent obtaining stuff we really didn’t need that could have been more productive; maybe I’m looking at things as an adult instead of as a child.
I’d put my scriptures in the time capsule, all marked with favorite passages and notes I’d jotted along the edges of different pages. I’d carefully pack a laptop computer with instructions on its use, battery stored separately, with a high capacity external hard drive so as to be able to have all my writings, favorite music, books, photographs available and even a selection of my favorite movies.
I’d include a smaller sampling of the photographs and printable items in book form, carefully wrapped and protected from the elements, just in case the data or device was damaged by sun spot activity or some other electronic disaster. These printable items would include photographs, blog articles, the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and Bill of Rights and some front page sections of the local newspaper. I’d also include a nice dictionary and thesaurus in the event the finder of these articles needed a Rosetta Stone ,of sorts, to figure out the written samplings.
I might include some coins and paper money as an example of our monetary system and culture , or lack thereof. I might include my old high school class ring or some other piece of jewelry made of gold. Archeologists of the future might not figure out anything else; but they always understand the value of gold.
In the movie, The Time Machine , Mr. Philby asked a long reaching question once he realized the circumstances and the significance of limited space in such a contraption, pondering his friend traveling in time, a friend who’d come back to retrieve a few personal items and some books. Philby turned to the house woman, a woman who knew more about what might be missing, “So, what would you have taken with you, to start your brave new world?”
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Thanksgiving Parade Memories
This morning we had the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade tuned in as they went through the star studded lineup about to be seen. Spiderman was floating in all his splendor, held by several ropes, the workers grateful for a calm day. Various famous actors, actresses and performers would eventually make their way to the cameras; but of all them, Santa was the one the children would be waiting to see. Santa coming into town signals the beginning of the Christmas Season.
Years ago, I’m talking thirty plus years ago when I was assigned to the Point Control Division of the Houston Police Department, Thanksgiving morning meant working the parade. It started with 5am Roll Call, and you’d better not be late; don’t even think of staying home unless you already had a toe tag. There would be intersection assignments for crowd control, “go-fer” duties and then a rare few got to escort Santa at the end of the parade.
The three wheeled motorcycle, a cross between the worst parts of a two wheeled motorcycle and the worst parts of a standard automobile, was the vehicle of choice for Point Control. These interesting police vehicles did have some redeeming social value, couldn’t think of how to put that seeing as how this might be read by folks with tender ears; where was I, the three wheeler could operate downtown, either on the normal street surface or even the sidewalk depending on the need.
You could usually tell if the motor was at operating temperature, it would melt the inboard cuff of your dark blue police issued trousers. A brittle bead of crystalline substance, which at one time had been a blend of wool and polyester fabric would form a gentle arch along the bottom of the pants.
The actual parade wouldn’t start for hours so my partner and I would drive over to my folk’s house, at the edge of downtown in the Montrose area, and invite ourselves in for breakfast. We didn’t have to be on post for a couple of hours so it was a leisurely breakfast with my folks.
I remember driving back towards our assigned area, the sun was just up as we neared the old YMCA building. On the sidewalk was a young fellow with a boom box crouched on his shoulder oblivious to the rest of the world as he jammed methodically northward. An evil thought entered my mind and without speaking, a wry smile crossed my lips and alerted my partner of the planned attack on the unwary victim.
I should explain that three wheelers didn’t have a siren, or much of a horn for that matter. We’d learned a trick or two on how to get the attention of folks, either to pull them over for a traffic violation or to have them get out of the way when we were trying to get some place in a hurry. The most effective noise we’d been able to come up with involved locking up the front disc brake and simultaneously pulling the handlebars as hard as would permit, as if to make a turn, all the while giving the motor full acceleration. The combination of efforts ground the front tire along the pavement as if in a horrendous accident; folks gladly got out of your way, often times you could see their shoulders come together in one giant flinch, their heads bowing on pulled in necks waiting for the imminent collision.
Back to the happy go lucky fellow with the boom box; my partner and I both locked up the front end and gunned the engines, a horrifying air busting cacophony of sounds echoed off the nearby buildings. I failed to mention that there was a retaining wall of sorts next to the sidewalk in front of the YMCA building. The young man bounced off the retaining wall on his first attempt to avoid the accident which was happening off to his blind side, the boom box bounced along the sidewalk as he made it over on his second try.
Partner and I waved and laughed as we drove off, the sun at our backs, “your police department at your service”. The City actually paid us to perform these modest and useful acts of public service. Did I mention how to make a three wheeler’s muffler crack from repeatedly using it to detonate unburned gas fumes, intentional backfires? I guess I should leave well enough alone.
I started out to write about the thrill brought about when Santa was escorted, by a handful of exceptionally skilled three wheeled motorcycle officers, officers who’d distinguished themselves throughout the year by their professionalism. Yup, I got to escort Santa Claus at the end of the Thanksgiving Parade, more than a couple of times.
That reminded me; my first recollection of ever meeting a police officer was the time my brother and I had been hiding behind a hedge of low bushes one winter. We were surprising passing motorists with a cache of snowballs on a dreary afternoon in Levittown. We jumped up, threw our snow balls at the next passing car and made a direct hit on the open window of our local police unit.
Years ago, I’m talking thirty plus years ago when I was assigned to the Point Control Division of the Houston Police Department, Thanksgiving morning meant working the parade. It started with 5am Roll Call, and you’d better not be late; don’t even think of staying home unless you already had a toe tag. There would be intersection assignments for crowd control, “go-fer” duties and then a rare few got to escort Santa at the end of the parade.
The three wheeled motorcycle, a cross between the worst parts of a two wheeled motorcycle and the worst parts of a standard automobile, was the vehicle of choice for Point Control. These interesting police vehicles did have some redeeming social value, couldn’t think of how to put that seeing as how this might be read by folks with tender ears; where was I, the three wheeler could operate downtown, either on the normal street surface or even the sidewalk depending on the need.
You could usually tell if the motor was at operating temperature, it would melt the inboard cuff of your dark blue police issued trousers. A brittle bead of crystalline substance, which at one time had been a blend of wool and polyester fabric would form a gentle arch along the bottom of the pants.
The actual parade wouldn’t start for hours so my partner and I would drive over to my folk’s house, at the edge of downtown in the Montrose area, and invite ourselves in for breakfast. We didn’t have to be on post for a couple of hours so it was a leisurely breakfast with my folks.
I remember driving back towards our assigned area, the sun was just up as we neared the old YMCA building. On the sidewalk was a young fellow with a boom box crouched on his shoulder oblivious to the rest of the world as he jammed methodically northward. An evil thought entered my mind and without speaking, a wry smile crossed my lips and alerted my partner of the planned attack on the unwary victim.
I should explain that three wheelers didn’t have a siren, or much of a horn for that matter. We’d learned a trick or two on how to get the attention of folks, either to pull them over for a traffic violation or to have them get out of the way when we were trying to get some place in a hurry. The most effective noise we’d been able to come up with involved locking up the front disc brake and simultaneously pulling the handlebars as hard as would permit, as if to make a turn, all the while giving the motor full acceleration. The combination of efforts ground the front tire along the pavement as if in a horrendous accident; folks gladly got out of your way, often times you could see their shoulders come together in one giant flinch, their heads bowing on pulled in necks waiting for the imminent collision.
Back to the happy go lucky fellow with the boom box; my partner and I both locked up the front end and gunned the engines, a horrifying air busting cacophony of sounds echoed off the nearby buildings. I failed to mention that there was a retaining wall of sorts next to the sidewalk in front of the YMCA building. The young man bounced off the retaining wall on his first attempt to avoid the accident which was happening off to his blind side, the boom box bounced along the sidewalk as he made it over on his second try.
Partner and I waved and laughed as we drove off, the sun at our backs, “your police department at your service”. The City actually paid us to perform these modest and useful acts of public service. Did I mention how to make a three wheeler’s muffler crack from repeatedly using it to detonate unburned gas fumes, intentional backfires? I guess I should leave well enough alone.
I started out to write about the thrill brought about when Santa was escorted, by a handful of exceptionally skilled three wheeled motorcycle officers, officers who’d distinguished themselves throughout the year by their professionalism. Yup, I got to escort Santa Claus at the end of the Thanksgiving Parade, more than a couple of times.
That reminded me; my first recollection of ever meeting a police officer was the time my brother and I had been hiding behind a hedge of low bushes one winter. We were surprising passing motorists with a cache of snowballs on a dreary afternoon in Levittown. We jumped up, threw our snow balls at the next passing car and made a direct hit on the open window of our local police unit.
Our legs refused to work or we’d have made our get away; instead we stood there, frozen in our place until the officer walked over and explained how he wasn’t all that happy with our actions. He took us home and handed us over to my mother; never needing instructions from the officer on how to appropriately correct our character growth. Ironic, isn’t it, how some folks follow a path through life which leads to who knows where.
All this time the Macy’s parade has moved along and here I am going on about the past; hope I didn’t miss the Rockettes. Several years ago Lucy and I flew up to New York to experience the sights and sounds of that great city during the Christmas Season. It was the same year our troops found Saddam Hussein hiding in his spider hole over in Iraq, an interesting way to remember dates; a picture on the cover of the New York Daily News of that scoundrel getting hauled off was an early present that year.
Lucy and I had tickets to see the Rocketts perform at the Radio City Music Hall’s Christmas Spectacular that year. It was plenty cold as we waited in line, the shadows from the building along with the sounds of the city engrained as fine memories to this day.
I’m rambling again; have a great Thanksgiving, hope you’re surrounded by those you love and appreciate. Most of all give thanks to our Father in Heaven for the many blessings we’ve been given and pray for an extension of those blessings in spite of our many short comings.
All this time the Macy’s parade has moved along and here I am going on about the past; hope I didn’t miss the Rockettes. Several years ago Lucy and I flew up to New York to experience the sights and sounds of that great city during the Christmas Season. It was the same year our troops found Saddam Hussein hiding in his spider hole over in Iraq, an interesting way to remember dates; a picture on the cover of the New York Daily News of that scoundrel getting hauled off was an early present that year.
Lucy and I had tickets to see the Rocketts perform at the Radio City Music Hall’s Christmas Spectacular that year. It was plenty cold as we waited in line, the shadows from the building along with the sounds of the city engrained as fine memories to this day.
I’m rambling again; have a great Thanksgiving, hope you’re surrounded by those you love and appreciate. Most of all give thanks to our Father in Heaven for the many blessings we’ve been given and pray for an extension of those blessings in spite of our many short comings.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Proclamation of National Thanksgiving
In case you were wondering why you had a paid holiday off for Thanksgiving, maybe putting things in perspective would be useful. I was driving down the road on the way to a locksmith job when I heard Rush Limbaugh read George Washington’s Thanksgiving Day Proclamation on his program, that along with some of the associated history.
A couple of years ago I’d expressed my thoughts on Thanksgiving and was roaming around the blogosphere for other articles of a similar nature. What I found repulsed me to a certain degree as I read about everything except gratitude to God for the many blessings we have been given. I found folks patting themselves on the back for a job well done, the greatness of their individual accomplishments and hardly a mention of the hand of the Lord in protecting our nation or the miracle that is America. Thank Heaven for men like George Washington who captured, in a fairly short proclamation, the essence of our gratitude and the humility we should continue to exhibit on a daily basis to our Creator.
I should give credit to Rediscovering George Washington , the source where I found this document even though it may be found elsewhere. The photograph, slightly cropped, is from Meridian Magazine’s fund drive article wondering if folks who received their free internet publication were thankful enough to send a donation; thought it was beautiful and didn’t think they’d mind sharing their artwork.
Proclamation of National Thanksgiving
A couple of years ago I’d expressed my thoughts on Thanksgiving and was roaming around the blogosphere for other articles of a similar nature. What I found repulsed me to a certain degree as I read about everything except gratitude to God for the many blessings we have been given. I found folks patting themselves on the back for a job well done, the greatness of their individual accomplishments and hardly a mention of the hand of the Lord in protecting our nation or the miracle that is America. Thank Heaven for men like George Washington who captured, in a fairly short proclamation, the essence of our gratitude and the humility we should continue to exhibit on a daily basis to our Creator.
I should give credit to Rediscovering George Washington , the source where I found this document even though it may be found elsewhere. The photograph, slightly cropped, is from Meridian Magazine’s fund drive article wondering if folks who received their free internet publication were thankful enough to send a donation; thought it was beautiful and didn’t think they’d mind sharing their artwork.
Proclamation of National Thanksgiving
George Washington
City of New York, October 3, 1789
Whereas it is the duty of all Nations to acknowledge the providence of Almighty God, to obey his will, to be grateful for his benefits, and humbly to implore his protection and favor, and whereas both Houses of Congress have by their joint Committee requested me "to recommend to the People of the United States a day of public thanksgiving and prayer to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many signal favors of Almighty God especially by affording them an opportunity peaceably to establish a form of government for their safety and happiness."
Now therefore I do recommend and assign Thursday the 26th day of November next to be devoted by the People of these States to the service of that great and glorious Being, who is the beneficent Author of all the good that was, that is, or that will be. That we may then all unite in rendering unto him our sincere and humble thanks, for his kind care and protection of the People of this Country previous to their becoming a Nation, for the signal and manifold mercies, and the favorable interpositions of his providence, which we experienced in the course and conclusion of the late war, for the great degree of tranquility, union, and plenty, which we have since enjoyed, for the peaceable and rational manner, in which we have been enabled to establish constitutions of government for our safety and happiness, and particularly the national One now lately instituted, for the civil and religious liberty with which we are blessed; and the means we have of acquiring and diffusing useful knowledge; and in general for all the great and various favors which he hath been pleased to confer upon us.
And also that we may then unite in most humbly offering our prayers and supplications to the great Lord and Ruler of Nations and beseech him to pardon our national and other transgressions, to enable us all, whether in public or private stations, to perform our several and relative duties properly and punctually, to render our national government a blessing to all the people, by constantly being a Government of wise, just, and constitutional laws, discreetly and faithfully executed and obeyed, to protect and guide all Sovereigns and Nations (especially such as have shown kindness unto us) and to bless them with good government, peace, and concord. To promote the knowledge and practice of true religion and virtue, and the encrease of science among them and Us, and generally to grant unto all Mankind such a degree of temporal prosperity as he alone knows to be best.
Given under my hand at the City of New York the third day of October in the year of our Lord 1789.
Updated
Steve Farrell has a good article over at his site, Thanksgiving for the Divine Source of our Claims – De Tocqueville.
http://networkedblogs.com/p18974228
Steve Farrell has a good article over at his site, Thanksgiving for the Divine Source of our Claims – De Tocqueville.
http://networkedblogs.com/p18974228
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Retired Teacher Bonus?
I read where the Texas State Comptroller’s office turned down the legislature’s request to pay retired teachers a five hundred dollar bonus .
“Attorney General Greg Abbott on Monday issued an opinion that says normal procedures for distributing the $155 million were not followed by the 2009 Legislature.”
Please don’t read anything into this that isn’t there; I have the highest regard for teachers. In an economy that is less than robust; what kind of idiot legislature contemplates handing out bonus money? Did that money grow on a money tree or is this more wealth redistribution?
My locksmith business is directly tied in with the automotive industry; and our figures have been pretty ugly for this past year. You won’t hear about belt tightening because I’m not in the unemployment line; but our business is off around 40%. I’m not complaining and I’m able to keep my head above water, pay those I owe and even have a little left over.
The economy is “on the rebound”, at least that’s what I’m hearing from mass media sources. According to them the recession is over and we should all enjoy a very good “holiday season”; heaven forbid they mention Christmas. I should be thrilled for retired teachers who are able to enjoy part of my hard earned money.
Shucky Dern, I know where the money came from, or at least part of it. Each year the State of Texas STEALS about five hundred dollars from my account so I can renew my locksmith license . I want to thank the legislature for explaining, at least in part, why being in being in business is so rewarding.
“Attorney General Greg Abbott on Monday issued an opinion that says normal procedures for distributing the $155 million were not followed by the 2009 Legislature.”
Please don’t read anything into this that isn’t there; I have the highest regard for teachers. In an economy that is less than robust; what kind of idiot legislature contemplates handing out bonus money? Did that money grow on a money tree or is this more wealth redistribution?
My locksmith business is directly tied in with the automotive industry; and our figures have been pretty ugly for this past year. You won’t hear about belt tightening because I’m not in the unemployment line; but our business is off around 40%. I’m not complaining and I’m able to keep my head above water, pay those I owe and even have a little left over.
The economy is “on the rebound”, at least that’s what I’m hearing from mass media sources. According to them the recession is over and we should all enjoy a very good “holiday season”; heaven forbid they mention Christmas. I should be thrilled for retired teachers who are able to enjoy part of my hard earned money.
Shucky Dern, I know where the money came from, or at least part of it. Each year the State of Texas STEALS about five hundred dollars from my account so I can renew my locksmith license . I want to thank the legislature for explaining, at least in part, why being in being in business is so rewarding.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Screen Savers - Getting Spoiled
I was remembering a screen saver program that I enjoyed many years ago when the Personal Computer was in its infancy. It was part of a package of screen savers made for computers that did silly things like green monsters that bounced around for awhile making gross noises until it would explode and start all over; but the one I was thinking of had a forest scene. On Thanksgiving the internal clock of the program triggered a magic button and all the little fir trees in the forest somehow were trimmed with Christmas lights that lighted up and stayed that way until Christmas or some extended time thereafter; been a while so I could be off on the ending time.
I thought about looking for that old time screen saver program; but couldn’t figure out where to start, there being so many new screen savers now. I found one that made me smile, a 3-D Four Seasons image that has a changing landscape with mountains, trees, a lake and birds flying all around. When it kicked in the leaves changed from summer to fall, leaves dropped and then the snows came to make the lake freeze over and the mountains were covered with snow. A few minutes later the ice melted, birds returned along with new green leaves; quite a production for a free program.
If anyone remembers the program I was referring to, it had a toaster with wings on the original package; probably made for Windows 3 or some other ancient Windows platform, see if that is still available. I’d love to have some of those older screen savers from an age when simple graphics were accepted and revered as something of a miracle; these newer ones are spoiling me.
I thought about looking for that old time screen saver program; but couldn’t figure out where to start, there being so many new screen savers now. I found one that made me smile, a 3-D Four Seasons image that has a changing landscape with mountains, trees, a lake and birds flying all around. When it kicked in the leaves changed from summer to fall, leaves dropped and then the snows came to make the lake freeze over and the mountains were covered with snow. A few minutes later the ice melted, birds returned along with new green leaves; quite a production for a free program.
If anyone remembers the program I was referring to, it had a toaster with wings on the original package; probably made for Windows 3 or some other ancient Windows platform, see if that is still available. I’d love to have some of those older screen savers from an age when simple graphics were accepted and revered as something of a miracle; these newer ones are spoiling me.
Thankful for Hobo Kitties
We’re finding quite a bit of joy in watching the personalities of the Hobo Kitties as they grow individually. This morning we captured Brother hiding in what at one time was our tomato garden; now covered in Wandering Jew until such time as we replant.
Lucy happened to look out the door and saw Princess up on the protective fence around the tomato garden, one that never did all that much protecting; but it looked impressive. Princess was curious about the wind chimes; except when someone appears at the back door they know “good things happen”, dinner, treats or a scratch behind the ear.
We also got a good snap shot of Head Buttr’, also known as Cousin 1. Her sister, Cousin 2, stays out of reach until the Giants, that’s us, go back inside. At that time Cousin 2 darts back and forth looking for a chance to grab a treat only to find there are none left. Head Buttr’ likes to coral Princess or Brother; but has to keep a safe distance from the other Hobo Kitties as they tend to have short tempers.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Environmental Whacko Approved Day the Earth Stood Still
Sunday afternoon was relaxed as I flipped through the channels looking for a movie; unfortunately I found the new “green” version of The Day the Earth Stood Still . Humans are to blame for all the problems on planet Earth and aliens come to save the planet and all the other species, not the human race; fits right in with the environmental whacko hysteria machine.
I never thought I’d say it; but I actually asked to watch HGTV, that stupid house hunting, fixer upper, tear it out channel as part of the repentance process for having subjected our lives to one of the worst films in quite a while. Watching folks blow insulation into a newly renovated house was more satisfying than the “green” version of The Day the Earth Stood Still. Thank you very much; but I’ll stick with the original black and white version .
I found a trailer for this wasted effort along with two actors pleading for “change”; gosh, their message is so important I had to share it with all of you. You better watch this film before the ocean levels rise and flood all the coastal cities. I only have two thumbs or it would get a “three thumbs down” rating.
I never thought I’d say it; but I actually asked to watch HGTV, that stupid house hunting, fixer upper, tear it out channel as part of the repentance process for having subjected our lives to one of the worst films in quite a while. Watching folks blow insulation into a newly renovated house was more satisfying than the “green” version of The Day the Earth Stood Still. Thank you very much; but I’ll stick with the original black and white version .
I found a trailer for this wasted effort along with two actors pleading for “change”; gosh, their message is so important I had to share it with all of you. You better watch this film before the ocean levels rise and flood all the coastal cities. I only have two thumbs or it would get a “three thumbs down” rating.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
The Past Through Tomorrow Explains Today
I never claimed to be the sharpest pencil in the box; but having observed the White House with its stacked deck of misfits, the idea occurred to me that I’d read about a similar scenario once before. Robert Heinlein wrote a collection of short stories called, Future History Stories – The Past Through Tomorrow . If you’re not familiar with Heilein’s style of writing this would be a good place to start.
The story I was thinking of was called, The Roads Must Roll , about an intricate road system which society relies upon. A malcontent figured out that he could make drastic things happen by putting together a staff of like minded malcontents and attacking society from within.
There's a plot to through a monkey wrench into the works, so to speak, but it's detected prior to its full implementation. The man “at the switch” is confronted by one who has figured out who each of the conspirators are, their having been hand picked for key positions in the administration, along with how they planned to carry out their overthrow.
“…You start a functionalist revolution, and the only function you can think of to perform is to blow up is the road which justifies your title…”
If this doesn’t paint a duplicate portrait of the Obama administration with its radical leftist advisors, their hatred for the free market system which had provided America with the most efficient goods and services for roughly two hundred years; then maybe my comprehension skills are faulty.
I hear about theoretical transformation processes, a means of destroying democracy and the “old America” in favor of some new Utopian society; you might call it the ultimate “hope and change” promised every American in the last presidential election. The problem which has become more apparent with each passing day is that the hope and change promised included some interesting prerequisites; destroying the foundations of the “old America”, the one which provided safe guards for individual rights, a fertile environment in which industry flourished and contained limits on the powers of government.
There’s a solution known as the Cloward/Piven Strategy which would bring about pure unadulterated chaos and I see Heilein’s warnings about to reach fruition.
“Their goal is to overthrow capitalism by overwhelming the government bureaucracy with entitlement demands. The created crisis provides the impetus to bring about radical political change.”
Now if you complete the thought, Obama has brought his team of radical Marxists together, has this Cloward/Piven Strategy whereby the destruction of capitalism can be implemented and add to that, the willful deceptions practiced in passing legislation which contains thousands of pages of hidden mandates, mandates which violate the very concepts of individual agency and liberty (the old America); and you have a recipe for disaster.
How’s that hope and change working for ya’? When folks tell you they’re just as American as you; don’t you have to ask, “Yea, but which America are ya’ talkin’ about; the old America or that new fangled Marxist America?”
The story I was thinking of was called, The Roads Must Roll , about an intricate road system which society relies upon. A malcontent figured out that he could make drastic things happen by putting together a staff of like minded malcontents and attacking society from within.
There's a plot to through a monkey wrench into the works, so to speak, but it's detected prior to its full implementation. The man “at the switch” is confronted by one who has figured out who each of the conspirators are, their having been hand picked for key positions in the administration, along with how they planned to carry out their overthrow.
“…You start a functionalist revolution, and the only function you can think of to perform is to blow up is the road which justifies your title…”
If this doesn’t paint a duplicate portrait of the Obama administration with its radical leftist advisors, their hatred for the free market system which had provided America with the most efficient goods and services for roughly two hundred years; then maybe my comprehension skills are faulty.
I hear about theoretical transformation processes, a means of destroying democracy and the “old America” in favor of some new Utopian society; you might call it the ultimate “hope and change” promised every American in the last presidential election. The problem which has become more apparent with each passing day is that the hope and change promised included some interesting prerequisites; destroying the foundations of the “old America”, the one which provided safe guards for individual rights, a fertile environment in which industry flourished and contained limits on the powers of government.
There’s a solution known as the Cloward/Piven Strategy which would bring about pure unadulterated chaos and I see Heilein’s warnings about to reach fruition.
“Their goal is to overthrow capitalism by overwhelming the government bureaucracy with entitlement demands. The created crisis provides the impetus to bring about radical political change.”
Now if you complete the thought, Obama has brought his team of radical Marxists together, has this Cloward/Piven Strategy whereby the destruction of capitalism can be implemented and add to that, the willful deceptions practiced in passing legislation which contains thousands of pages of hidden mandates, mandates which violate the very concepts of individual agency and liberty (the old America); and you have a recipe for disaster.
How’s that hope and change working for ya’? When folks tell you they’re just as American as you; don’t you have to ask, “Yea, but which America are ya’ talkin’ about; the old America or that new fangled Marxist America?”
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Angels Snoring ?
I had a rare treat this morning to help out in the Primary when one of the regular teachers couldn’t make it. Actually I was a backup for the other teacher, one of those rules where there needs to be two adults in a class so I didn’t have to come up with a last minute lesson.
Primary is broken down into three parts, Sharing time where all the children are in one room for opening exercises, the lesson time where they break off into small groups by age and then back to Sharing time; except this time the group is halved, I was with the older kids this time as they were supposed to learn something they will do for the Christmas program.
I wasn’t familiar with the song, Stars Were Gleaming , as the music instructor, Sister Antezana, had gestures that were supposed to remind the children of the various words as she presented the song. She held both hands above her head and let her fingers point down, as if dancing.
Stars were gleaming…
She rested her head on her flattened hands…
Shepherds dreaming…
Here arms pulled together like she was hugging…
And the night was dark and chill.
Here’s were my ears let me down. I may have mentioned in previous writings, I’m hard of hearing; even with hearing aids certain sounds are beyond my ability to hear. My brain attempts to fill in the blanks with words that might fit, could fit on an outside bet or that make for a fun sentence with no chance in a million of being correct.
She held her hands in front of her as if opening a book; but my ears heard…
Angels snoring.
Come on now, shepherds were dreaming, angels could have been snoring; what do you want, Pavarotti? They sang the song several times and I chimed in, doing my best to learn the new song. Brother Mangrum, the fellow I was supposed to be helping, was next to me. He couldn’t keep from laughing as he heard me singing, Angels snoring where it should have been Angel’s story.
Hearken, he is laughing still.
Primary is broken down into three parts, Sharing time where all the children are in one room for opening exercises, the lesson time where they break off into small groups by age and then back to Sharing time; except this time the group is halved, I was with the older kids this time as they were supposed to learn something they will do for the Christmas program.
I wasn’t familiar with the song, Stars Were Gleaming , as the music instructor, Sister Antezana, had gestures that were supposed to remind the children of the various words as she presented the song. She held both hands above her head and let her fingers point down, as if dancing.
Stars were gleaming…
She rested her head on her flattened hands…
Shepherds dreaming…
Here arms pulled together like she was hugging…
And the night was dark and chill.
Here’s were my ears let me down. I may have mentioned in previous writings, I’m hard of hearing; even with hearing aids certain sounds are beyond my ability to hear. My brain attempts to fill in the blanks with words that might fit, could fit on an outside bet or that make for a fun sentence with no chance in a million of being correct.
She held her hands in front of her as if opening a book; but my ears heard…
Angels snoring.
Come on now, shepherds were dreaming, angels could have been snoring; what do you want, Pavarotti? They sang the song several times and I chimed in, doing my best to learn the new song. Brother Mangrum, the fellow I was supposed to be helping, was next to me. He couldn’t keep from laughing as he heard me singing, Angels snoring where it should have been Angel’s story.
Hearken, he is laughing still.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Baby Sitting Grandchildren
We had JJ and Jocelyne over this evening and through the morning so their parents can attend a wedding. Lucy picked them up and took them grocery shopping with her on the way home. The meatball sampling at the grocery store must not have set well with JJ as he puked it up just before they got home; yuk!
Jocelyne and I watched E.T., something she’d enjoyed with me once before. The movie, when watched with and by a four year old is more fun, more emotional, more scary, and more entertaining all around. Jocelyne remembered the part where E.T. popped his head up from behind the television and spoke the letter “B”.
“Be good”, Jocelyne repeated, a serious look on her face as she nodded in agreement. I fielded questions and listened to her express joy, sadness and laughter as the movie offered a variety of opportunities. The scene where E.T. went into the refrigerator and makes a mess was one of her favorites as she agreed that he shouldn’t throw food on the floor or drink beer.
Jocelyne waited to see the part where Elliot flies in front of the moon on his bike while on the way to set up the “phone home machine” out in the woods. She was all upset when Elliot and E.T. got visited by all those doctors and watched the flowers wilt as E. T. was put in the cold storage box.
I’d have to say Jocelyne was able to take in nearly all the important aspects of the movie without my help; her having “felt” the movie, even when she wasn’t quite sure what had happened.
They have gone off to sleep, perchance to dream; think I’ll hold off watching Hamlet with her until she’s a bit older.
Jocelyne and I watched E.T., something she’d enjoyed with me once before. The movie, when watched with and by a four year old is more fun, more emotional, more scary, and more entertaining all around. Jocelyne remembered the part where E.T. popped his head up from behind the television and spoke the letter “B”.
“Be good”, Jocelyne repeated, a serious look on her face as she nodded in agreement. I fielded questions and listened to her express joy, sadness and laughter as the movie offered a variety of opportunities. The scene where E.T. went into the refrigerator and makes a mess was one of her favorites as she agreed that he shouldn’t throw food on the floor or drink beer.
Jocelyne waited to see the part where Elliot flies in front of the moon on his bike while on the way to set up the “phone home machine” out in the woods. She was all upset when Elliot and E.T. got visited by all those doctors and watched the flowers wilt as E. T. was put in the cold storage box.
I’d have to say Jocelyne was able to take in nearly all the important aspects of the movie without my help; her having “felt” the movie, even when she wasn’t quite sure what had happened.
They have gone off to sleep, perchance to dream; think I’ll hold off watching Hamlet with her until she’s a bit older.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Drawing Blood - Drawing Ire
I should throw my hands up in gratitude for being retired from the Houston Police Department after reading, Police Train To Draw Suspect’s Blood , on the KPRC website. I’d seen a blurb in passing last night, enough to catch my attention and yet not enough to say I’d been informed; I’d hoped my ears had played a trick on me, they had not.
“Houston police confirm plans for the program, but have not released specific details. A department spokesperson said the officers will be trained in the upcoming weeks.”
I hope the City does a better job of researching the liabilities sure to follow before implementing this new policy of police officers drawing suspect’s blood by force. State law already provides a stipulation on DWI or DUI cases whereby a suspect’s refusal to supply a breath or blood sample results in the automatic suspension of a driver’s license. Such a refusal amounts to the same thing as failure of the offered test. How would forcing a suspect to provide such a sample improve the prosecution of such a case; the answer, it would not.
There are concerns by many, myself included, that such forced body samples constitutes an unreasonable search and seizure. Beyond than, what about the civil litigation which might follow; non-medical personnel taking body samples, injuries related to such forced samples both immediate or those which might become evident at some later date, traumatic injuries either claimed or real and the list is nearly endless.
Let me help with writing the new Manuel which covers forced blood sample procedures for the Houston Police Department:
After having observed the suspect to ascertain probable cause for stopping said suspect for DUI or DWI and after having pulled the suspect’s vehicle over safely ( see SOP for safe traffic stops ),
Drag suspect from vehicle using approved techniques (see SOP for approved take down techniques).
Perform field sobriety tests ( see SOP for approved field sobriety tests).
If suspect fails test, offer suspect new field blood test. If suspect refuses, knock suspect to ground, position boot on suspect’s throat while making sure not to completely render suspect unconscious or dead; remember dead suspects require additional paperwork. Minor injuries are to be expected as a result of resisting arrest; don’t fret the small stuff, you’re covered because we have a strong employee’s union.
Insert needle in suspect’s arm, leg, neck or what ever is available; we’re not doctors or even trained medical personnel so don’t let minor issues get in the way of obtaining evidence.
In the event you accidentally get pricked you will need to fill out additional forms for Injury on Duty; don’t get pricked, Hepatitis and AIDS can be fatal.
If for any reason the suspect sues the City of Houston or the Department you will be out on the limb all by yourself, just as with any other law suit. It will be shown that you were incompetent or failed to comply with the SOP’s which you were supplied with and signed for. You will be suspended for failure to show or use good judgment and left hanging in the breeze.
Why would the City of Houston or the Department expose the citizens of Houston to any litigation which could bankrupt everyone? What is to be gained by such an asinine approach to law enforcement; remember, State law already provides a guaranteed conviction when an officer, based solely on his/her field observations and experience, when he/she fills out a refusal form for either a breath or body fluid request. The reasonable doubt required to obtain a conviction has already been met, why subject anyone to an invasion of their body, with or without warrant?
Before leaving this topic; why include a provision that considers obtaining bodily fluids from any suspect “without a warrant”? Maybe Chief Hurtt wants to change the image of HPD; you know, from Houston’s Finest to Houston’s Gestapo.
We don’t need that old image, the one which works on the premise of following the Constitution; it’s become so inhibiting and inefficient. There are sweeping changes in America; Chicago style politics are firmly entrenched in Washington, ACORN and SEIU have set the example of thuggery, a way to silencing those who disagree and Houston wants to be a part of this great Hope and Change movement.
Once again, in case you missed my opening thought; I’ll express my gratitude for being retired from the Houston Police Department.
“Houston police confirm plans for the program, but have not released specific details. A department spokesperson said the officers will be trained in the upcoming weeks.”
I hope the City does a better job of researching the liabilities sure to follow before implementing this new policy of police officers drawing suspect’s blood by force. State law already provides a stipulation on DWI or DUI cases whereby a suspect’s refusal to supply a breath or blood sample results in the automatic suspension of a driver’s license. Such a refusal amounts to the same thing as failure of the offered test. How would forcing a suspect to provide such a sample improve the prosecution of such a case; the answer, it would not.
There are concerns by many, myself included, that such forced body samples constitutes an unreasonable search and seizure. Beyond than, what about the civil litigation which might follow; non-medical personnel taking body samples, injuries related to such forced samples both immediate or those which might become evident at some later date, traumatic injuries either claimed or real and the list is nearly endless.
Let me help with writing the new Manuel which covers forced blood sample procedures for the Houston Police Department:
After having observed the suspect to ascertain probable cause for stopping said suspect for DUI or DWI and after having pulled the suspect’s vehicle over safely ( see SOP for safe traffic stops ),
Drag suspect from vehicle using approved techniques (see SOP for approved take down techniques).
Perform field sobriety tests ( see SOP for approved field sobriety tests).
If suspect fails test, offer suspect new field blood test. If suspect refuses, knock suspect to ground, position boot on suspect’s throat while making sure not to completely render suspect unconscious or dead; remember dead suspects require additional paperwork. Minor injuries are to be expected as a result of resisting arrest; don’t fret the small stuff, you’re covered because we have a strong employee’s union.
Insert needle in suspect’s arm, leg, neck or what ever is available; we’re not doctors or even trained medical personnel so don’t let minor issues get in the way of obtaining evidence.
In the event you accidentally get pricked you will need to fill out additional forms for Injury on Duty; don’t get pricked, Hepatitis and AIDS can be fatal.
If for any reason the suspect sues the City of Houston or the Department you will be out on the limb all by yourself, just as with any other law suit. It will be shown that you were incompetent or failed to comply with the SOP’s which you were supplied with and signed for. You will be suspended for failure to show or use good judgment and left hanging in the breeze.
Why would the City of Houston or the Department expose the citizens of Houston to any litigation which could bankrupt everyone? What is to be gained by such an asinine approach to law enforcement; remember, State law already provides a guaranteed conviction when an officer, based solely on his/her field observations and experience, when he/she fills out a refusal form for either a breath or body fluid request. The reasonable doubt required to obtain a conviction has already been met, why subject anyone to an invasion of their body, with or without warrant?
Before leaving this topic; why include a provision that considers obtaining bodily fluids from any suspect “without a warrant”? Maybe Chief Hurtt wants to change the image of HPD; you know, from Houston’s Finest to Houston’s Gestapo.
We don’t need that old image, the one which works on the premise of following the Constitution; it’s become so inhibiting and inefficient. There are sweeping changes in America; Chicago style politics are firmly entrenched in Washington, ACORN and SEIU have set the example of thuggery, a way to silencing those who disagree and Houston wants to be a part of this great Hope and Change movement.
Once again, in case you missed my opening thought; I’ll express my gratitude for being retired from the Houston Police Department.
The Cruise Ship Voyage
I’ve heard this told a couple of times by different folks and couldn’t say who should get credit for the original version; all the same my thanks for a great story. I dedicate this to my friend Probligo as an answer to the many challenges he’s left to various articles I've posted in the comment section.
There was a cruise ship passenger who’d saved carefully for her once in a life time trip, figuring down to the last dollar, each day’s expenditures. When it came time for dinner she excused herself and went to her cabin where she’d planned ahead, having very modest meals pre-packaged so as not to worry about spending at the luxury restaurants on board the cruise ship.
She made friends with another woman during the week long cruise, walking the decks, exchanging stories of work, romance and family. Each evening when it came time for dinner the young woman was able to find an excuse for not going down to the fine restaurant; “I’m not feeling well”, “A bit sea sick, I’ll just go to my cabin and rest”, or some other casual reason for not attending.
On the last day of the cruise her friend again invited the young woman to attend the fancy dinner, a celebration beyond any of the other meals as it was the night before returning to port. The young woman calculated how much money she had left and decided it would be okay, her having enough to justify a little splurge.
She sat next to her friend and marveled at the items on the menu; but was reluctant to order because there were no prices next to the items, remembering how the best restaurants had similar menus. Her new found friend, somewhat bewildered at the situation posed by the young woman asked, “Didn’t you know, the price of all your meals was included in the price of your passage ticket?”
“No, I’ve been going to my cabin each night in order to avoid extra expenses.”
So it is with mortality; many are not aware the price has been paid, the many blessings which are available go unclaimed due to insufficient knowledge of the rules. Some are not aware of their relationship to the Captain of the ship and when given the opportunity to sit at his table slink away, feeling they cannot afford to attend or that they possibly are not worthy.
I hope the message of this story covers those who, for one reason or another, are reluctant to accept the invitation to dine at the Master’s table.
There is another story, one which I’m hesitant to share; but feel compelled to offer as an alternative. There was a fellow named Zeezrom, who challenged anyone who claimed to have a knowledge of God, antagonistic at every step. He tried to out smart and make fools of those claiming such knowledge. The story can be found in Alma 11:20-46 and all of chapter 12 . I’ve included a link to the starting point; enjoy your cruise through these passages.
There was a cruise ship passenger who’d saved carefully for her once in a life time trip, figuring down to the last dollar, each day’s expenditures. When it came time for dinner she excused herself and went to her cabin where she’d planned ahead, having very modest meals pre-packaged so as not to worry about spending at the luxury restaurants on board the cruise ship.
She made friends with another woman during the week long cruise, walking the decks, exchanging stories of work, romance and family. Each evening when it came time for dinner the young woman was able to find an excuse for not going down to the fine restaurant; “I’m not feeling well”, “A bit sea sick, I’ll just go to my cabin and rest”, or some other casual reason for not attending.
On the last day of the cruise her friend again invited the young woman to attend the fancy dinner, a celebration beyond any of the other meals as it was the night before returning to port. The young woman calculated how much money she had left and decided it would be okay, her having enough to justify a little splurge.
She sat next to her friend and marveled at the items on the menu; but was reluctant to order because there were no prices next to the items, remembering how the best restaurants had similar menus. Her new found friend, somewhat bewildered at the situation posed by the young woman asked, “Didn’t you know, the price of all your meals was included in the price of your passage ticket?”
“No, I’ve been going to my cabin each night in order to avoid extra expenses.”
So it is with mortality; many are not aware the price has been paid, the many blessings which are available go unclaimed due to insufficient knowledge of the rules. Some are not aware of their relationship to the Captain of the ship and when given the opportunity to sit at his table slink away, feeling they cannot afford to attend or that they possibly are not worthy.
I hope the message of this story covers those who, for one reason or another, are reluctant to accept the invitation to dine at the Master’s table.
There is another story, one which I’m hesitant to share; but feel compelled to offer as an alternative. There was a fellow named Zeezrom, who challenged anyone who claimed to have a knowledge of God, antagonistic at every step. He tried to out smart and make fools of those claiming such knowledge. The story can be found in Alma 11:20-46 and all of chapter 12 . I’ve included a link to the starting point; enjoy your cruise through these passages.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Judge Andrew Napolitano Natural Rights and The Patriot Act
Thanks and a tip of the hat to my friend Steve for sharing this via email. It looks like an extension of my thoughts from the other day .
“Judge Andrew Napolitano gives a speech from the heart about freedom and from where our rights come. The Judge explains the hard core truth about the Constitution and why we must fight to regain and retain our freedoms…”
Part One of Three
Part Two of Three
Part Three of Three
“Judge Andrew Napolitano gives a speech from the heart about freedom and from where our rights come. The Judge explains the hard core truth about the Constitution and why we must fight to regain and retain our freedoms…”
Part One of Three
Part Two of Three
Part Three of Three
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