Whew!

So, yesterday evening I got an email from Blogger, which said, in part:

Your blog at: http://phydeauxpseaks.blogspot.com/ has been identified as a potential spam blog. To correct this, please request a review by filling out the form at http://............

Your blog will be deleted within 20 days if it isn't reviewed, and you'll be unable to publish posts during this time.
[...]
Thank you for your understanding and for your help with our spam-fighting efforts.

Sincerely,

The Blogger Team

¿Que? Spam blog? Moi??? Nuh-uh! Nichevo!! I may be a phydeauxp, but I'm not spam!!!

So I go to my dashboard and see this message:


NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! I have to be able to post! I am a blogger, I must blog!!

As it turns out, I wasn't the only one who got locked out of my own blog. All I can figure is that Blogger did an "upgrade" of their spam search code and it... FAILED. It couldn't possibly have been the installation of some sort of Gummint spyware - "persons of interest"/"subversive element"/"free thinker"/"this will go down on your permanent record" - thingy that didn't work quite like they wanted it to.... Or did it?

Hmmmm, I wonder if those FEMA concentration camps are finished yet?

Oh, by the way, as you can see from the screen cap above, this is my 601^st post. Not bad for 17 months of blogging.

Important Message

Go read this post, now!

Please.

I'll be here if you have any questions.

Reflections On NaBloPoMo

1) I've enjoyed participating in this, albeit in a (what I consider) peripheral manner. By that I mean that while I have visited other NaBloPoMo blogs, and have read some very good stuff that I would not have seen were it not for NaBloPoMo, I haven't really engaged with those newly found blogs. Nor have I added any of my posts to the NaBloPoMo site, as quite a few of the participants have. My own failings at work there.

2) Believe it or not, I have found the whole thing somewhat limiting. Let me explain. I started this blog back in March of this year, and I'm still working to find my niche. Occasionally I have deep thoughts and I try to write about them. But, in my opinion, way too many of my posts have been fluff and (hopefully) somewhat humorous. Still, I have managed to average, over the life of the blog, an average of just under one post a day. Which is somewhat surprising to me.

So, how do I feel the NaBloPoMo has limited me? The idea that I have to post (at least) one a day has kept me from delving into some of the ideas I've had - because they would be time-consuming and might make me miss a day. Also, I have put off more than one post simply out of fear that the next day I might not come up with something to say, and would need to use it then.

[As an aside, I hope that people got the intended humor in my post "This Non-Post Has No Title", wherein I wrote 375 words to say that I had nothing to say.] Never mind.

3) My loony bun is fine Benny Lava. [sorry, PD, I just can't help myself!]

4) In reference to Reflection #2, I find the intimidation of a daily requirement somewhat surprising. During a recent chat with a friend (you know who you are!), we were discussing the whole working under a deadline thing - not with reference to NaBloPoMo - and I mentioned to said friend that I really thrive under those conditions, and ever since my early school days, when I discovered that papers I wrote on the bus on the way to school the day they were due ended up with better grades than papers I actually spent time composing, I have pretty much used that as a guiding principle. Not just in writing, but in a lot of things. And have been labled[sic] as lazy because of it.

The point here is, I don't understand why I would feel intimidated, because I know that I can come up with something - always.

5) I've always felt like an outsider, and I sometimes have difficulty participating in group things, so NaBloPoMo has helped me to become more "civilized" - no word yet as to whether that's a good thing.

6) There is no Reflection 6.

7) Will I participate next year when this rolls around? I guess you'll just have to stay tuned to find that out.

Another Kilometerstone

In the early morning hours today, someone clicked on this site. I don't know who it was, but this person was the 5,000th to do so since I added the SiteMeter count a couple of weeks after I started this bloggity blog back in March. Thanks to everyone who has wasted time visiting this hotbed of meh ;) .

Another ticked box on the checklist to world domination.

You think I'm kidding, don't you.

You'll see.

Oh, yes, you'll all see.

You Can't Tell a Book By Its Cover

Reason #299,458,978 why America is no longer the Best Nation on the Planet.

Get out of the fucking SUV and walk yourself, you lazy and clueless idiot!




When I lived in downtown Asheville several years ago, I would often observe my neighbor use the car to travel the 1/2 block to the convenience store or the 3/4th of a block to Bojangles for food. There was a time when I would react with mirth at the laziness exhibited, but it didn't take long for the sheer stupidity of this repeated act to really get under my skin. This neighbor was fit, healthy and liberal... and chose to climb into the mobile personal environment chamber so as not to be "tired out" or "cold" or "hot". Ugh.

Where I live now, the nearest store is a mile and a half away, and approximately 600' lower in elevation. And yet, one of my neighbors walks down there fairly often, instead of taking his truck. And this dude's in his "extremely late" 50's, not to mention a Republican apologist.

I asked him about it one day, when I stopped at the store on my way home from work, and was turned down when I offered him a lift home. I wondered if he walked because of a doctor's recommendation. He surprised me by saying that he didn't see the point in burning the gas when he a) wasn't in a hurry (he's retired), b) could enjoy the countryside and wave at whatever folk happened to be out in their yards as he walked by and c) could maybe show the "young'uns" a better way.

Color me shocked and pleased.


(photo h/t to Arratik at Scrutiny Hooligans)

I've Been Here And I've Been There

A month or so ago, TheCunningRunt put up the post, Two Americas. As I was working on my own post, Do You Miss The Weekly World News?, I was thinking about TCR's post and how I have lived in both Americas.

This is where I live now:


And this is where I lived ten years ago:

The living room pictured above is, for reference sake, more than twice the square footage of the Secret Lair (aka '73 Winnebago). Not to mention the 25'+ cathedral ceiling.

I enjoyed living in that 5,000 square foot house, as much for the location as anything else, but I'm just as happy where I am now, thank you very much. Although I do miss the fireplace....

(The pictures of the house I used to live in, which is now a vacation rental property, were taken from this web site. If you're thinking about vacationing in the Boone, NC area and are willing to pay $1300(!!!) for a weeks lodging, I highly recommend the house. And, no, I'm not associated in any way with the property manager....)

"Observe Canine Locomotion" or "See Spot Run"

DCup has initiated a "Question of the Day" feature and yesterday's question was "What was your favorite subject in school?" I was my usual wishy-washy self and could only narrow my answer down to two subjects. Wev.

But it got me to thinking about my book larnin' days, most specifically third grade - when my family moved from one county to another, and I entered a new school. My old school was what I guess they called "progressive" back in those days (the late Hippie Era). Language Arts (aka English) and Math were not taught as regular subjects with textbooks and all that. Instead, there was a large cart in the front hall that had lessons, Math on one side, LA on the other, that progressed from "1st" through "8th" grade and which we students worked through at our own pace. By the time we moved, I had completed the Language Arts side and was mostly done with the Math.

My first day in the new school was memorable for three things. One, I couldn't understand what my classmates were saying. Although we had moved only one county over (less than thirty miles in a straight line), it was as if the students were speaking a foreign language. As it turns out, they sort of were. You see, most of the students in my new class were from "up in the hills" - as, indeed, I now was. They were the result of many generations of isolated life, and still spoke a derivative form of Elizabethan English (with a healthy dose of Scots dialect thrown in).

The second memorable thing about my new school situation was the fact that my new classroom was all white. It actually took a couple of days for this to sink in, but I will never forget when I asked the teacher where all the black kids were, and she replied, "We don't have any n*****s here." Even as an eight year old child, I knew her statement was wrong. Not factually, but ethically. The rural South in 1972... apparently, not much different from 2007, come to think of it. And that's sad.

The other thing about my new school was when the teacher, after introducing me to my new classmates, gave me my books to use for the rest of the year - including, of course, the third grade Math and English books. "Umm," I said, "I've already learned this stuff, Mrs. Wagoner." "These are the books we use," she replied. End of discussion. So, while at home I was reading Isaac Asimov and Ray Bradbury, in school I was forced to plod along with the class, using a textbook that was barely more advanced than "See Spot run."

As a result of this, I became quite bored in school, and decided that if they were going to treat me as an imbecile I might as well act the part (yeah, I was a snotty kid - in fact, in high school, my friends - in the Gifted and Talented class - confronted me one day and said they were tired of me using words they didn't know, and would I please knock it off).

The result of this was that by the fifth grade [correction: it was sixth grade], I was placed in the remedial reading group - despite the fact that my 4th grade end of year testing scored me at college level in all categories. A fact that neither I nor my parents found out until almost twenty years later, when my fourth grade teacher attended a performance of a play I was in, sat next to my parents, and they got to talking. It turns out that the principal told her not to tell me (or Mom and Dad) because "it might have caused problems with the other students". Sort of a precursor or foreshadowing of "No Child Left Behind", I guess.

I often wonder how my life would be different if "the powers that be" at Mulberry Elementary School hadn't opted to take, what was for them, the easy route when it came to exceptional students (and I was not the only one affected by this, by any means), because what I learned in my formative years at school was to just do what I had to do to get by, and to not push for more.

Which, I suppose, is the purpose of public education in this country. Get the herd used to not bettering themselves.

Moo.

Lamp Induced Wanderings

There was a time, not so long ago, when all a person had for light at night was a few candles, a lamp if he were lucky, and the light from the fire on the hearth. Back in those days, people rose early and retired to bed not long after the sun set in the west - not because they had worked hard all day on the farm, which they most assuredly did - but rather because there is not much one can do in the semi-darkness of lamplight (and most of those things take place in bed anyway - wink, wink, nudge, nudge, know what I mean?).

These words which you are reading have been transcribed from paper and were written - late at night - by lamplight. For over three hours now I have been sitting in the semi-darkness our ancestors experienced every night of their lives. A storm blew through these hills - a primeval force of wind, rain and lightning - and the electricity that we all take for granted vanished in a flash. [Transcribing note: I understand that thousands of folk in the Chicago area are currently without power due to a similar storm]

As I sit in the lamplight, I stare at the darkened screen of my monitor and - as often happens when the unexpected occurs - I am forced to see things in a different... well, light.

The light, in fact, of a hurricane lamp, which I keep at hand for just such occasions. When one lives out in the boonies, one has a recurring experience of being without power. Especially during a time of drought, when trees are weakened and the wind is more likely to topple one onto a power line.


Darrell King (Rev. Isaiah Sims), Wes Martin (Dan'l Boone) and Mark Woodard (Dr. Geoffrey Stuart) in Horn in the West


Some years ago I lived in Boone, NC and for several summers was a cast member of the outdoor drama Horn in the West. Horn tells the fictionalized story of the first European settlers (meaning, in actuality, invaders) in the mountains along what is now the North Carolina - Tennessee border, and how they joined the cause of Liberty against the tyranny and oppression of the British Crown - in the person of George III.

I wonder, do many people in America today ever think about how solitary the existence of these mountain folk was? And not just the people living in these ancient mountains, but the vast majority of the people on the continent?

Today, we think nothing of getting in our cars and driving to the next town for business (or pleasure). We travel at 65 (or more) miles per hour on the Interstate highways. For example, I have dear friends who live a little more than 40 miles from the Secret Lair (aka '73 Winnebago), and I try to visit them as often as I am able (and have the bucks for gas to get there and back). It takes about 45 minutes to get from here to there.

Back "in the day" it would have been a full day's travel - or more. And yet our forebears, despite the extreme isolation under which most lived, banded together and fought for freedom.

The settlers living in the High Country and the easternmost Cumberland plateau were relatively untouched by the war raging in the flatlands to the east until the British major Patrick Ferguson issued a statement that said, in part, "Therefore, if you do not desist in your opposition to the British arms, I will march my men over the mountains, hang your leaders, and lay waste to your country with fire and sword." Under the leadership of Col. John Sevier, they formed the Overmountain Men(wiki link, but it's accurate), marched across the mountains and were instrumental in the defeat of the British at the battle of King's Mountain ( a bit west of Charlotte).

Today, by contrast, we sit at our computers, log on to “friendly” blogs, and bitch and gripe about the oppressions and repressions of our current government - in the person of our very own George III.

The spirits of the Overmountain Men, and all others who have fought (and died) for the cause of Liberty, are angry at us for our relative complacency. What will it take for us to get off our McAsses and do something?

The System is Broke, Long Live the System!

The other day, a neighbor asked me (in what is a major breech of Southern Decorum), "Are you a Republican or a Democrat?" Said neighbor was confused because he couldn't pin me down. Several years ago, when I was writing opinion pieces for the Rapid River magazine, the editor would share with me letters he received in response to some of my articles, wherein, on occasion, the writers would thank him for including, in his "liberal" mag, a "conservative" viewpoint.

Now, I don't believe that any of you who read my little blog would ever confuse me with a "Republican" or "conservative". Therefore, you most likely think that I am a "Democrat". And, technically speaking, you would be correct - on the advice of my father when I turned eighteen: "If you register as Independent, you will receive literature from fringe groups, and in the primaries your only option will be to vote using the "Republican" ballot (North Carolina law)" - anyway, I followed his advice.

This is a decision that I have often regretted, such as today, when things like this happen. It is also a decision that I have resolved to correct the next time I find myself in the county seat (which is in the opposite direction from where I travel for work and to visit local friends - and I'm not burning two gallons of fossil fuels just to change my voter registration).

Problem is, only the "Democratic" and "Republican" Parties are certified in North Carolina, which means that other parties - such as Green, Constitution, Libertarian, etc - have to submit petitions containing just under 70,000 certified signatures just to be included in the general election ballot. Then, assuming that a "third" party can get the proper number of certified signatures, they further have to garner 10% of the vote in the subsequent election - else they have to go through the whole petition process again.

At first glance, this may appear to be an attempt, by the North Carolina government, to be in accord with George Washington's admonition, in his farewell address(and if you've never read the whole thing, do so), against the formation of political parties:

No alliance, however strict, between the parts can be an adequate substitute; they must inevitably experience the infractions and interruptions which all alliances in all times have experienced.... The basis of our political systems is the right of the people to make and to alter their constitutions of government....

All obstructions to the execution of the laws, all combinations and associations, under whatever plausible character, with the real design to direct, control, counteract, or awe the regular deliberation and action of the constituted authorities, are destructive of this fundamental principle, and of fatal tendency. They serve to organize faction, to give it an artificial and extraordinary force; to put, in the place of the delegated will of the nation the will of a party, often a small but artful and enterprising minority of the community; and, according to the alternate triumphs of different parties, to make the public administration the mirror of the ill-concerted and incongruous projects of faction, rather than the organ of consistent and wholesome plans digested by common counsels and modified by mutual interests.

However combinations or associations of the above description may now and then answer popular ends, they are likely, in the course of time and things, to become potent engines, by which cunning, ambitious, and unprincipled men will be enabled to subvert the power of the people and to usurp for themselves the reins of government, destroying afterwards the very engines which have lifted them to unjust dominion.

[emphasis mine]

Unfortunately, the system that is in place, and not just in North Carolina, is one that seeks to maintain the supremacy of the two party dynamic. In the comments on a recent post at JONESTOWN, I said, in part: "What this country needs is a truly representational Congress. Enough of this two-party bullshit! The political spectrum is. not. binary."

I am not a "Republican". I am not, despite my official voter registration, a "Democrat". In fact, I don't know that any of the "parties" truly represent my beliefs. They are all, as Washington said, antithetical to the unity of the people. Political parties are a symptom of the, as my good friend TheCunningRunt has so eloquently put it, "Othering" which I so detest.

The time has come, my friends, to put aside the contrived labels of "party" and - here I delve into dangerous territory - "race" and even "nation". I am a human, and a resident of the Planet Earth. The fourth daughter of a Nepalese goatherd is my sister, and (as much as it may pain me) George W. Bush is my brother. Okay, I threw up in my mouth a little at that - but it is true.

We all share this Pale Blue Dot, and it is vitally important, for our continued existence, that we begin to act that way.

UPDATE: As I was adding the links above, I found that fairlane has a new post up at JONESTOWN along these same lines, which is - in my opinion - more to the point.

A Minor Milestone

I know this is nothing to a lot of you out there, but I'm pleased! My sincere thanks to all of you for visiting (and please feel free to leave a comment whenever you do) my humble web abode!

Molto Grazi! ¡Muchas gracias! Merci très beaucoup! Danke sehr viel! Большое спасибо!

.

Ennui in The Secret Lair (aka '73 Winnebago)

Greetings, Faithful Readers (both of you)!

I've been slack on posting for... well, ever since I started this thing - but especially in the past few days. It's not because there's nothing to bitch about. Goodness knows, it's not that. We have a useless Congress, an embarrassment of an Executive Branch, the drumbeat for war against Iran seems to be swelling, Americans of all political stripe don't believe in evolution, etc., etc., etc..

All topics worthy of raging against and/or about - but, as you can see from the links above, well covered (or at least covered) across the internets and beyond.

But none of that is the cause of the title of this post. No, my friends - I call you "my friends" - what's got me in this state of rampant lethargy is the fact that my bloody car is all wonky.

Those of you who have read my "introductory" posts have probably figured out by now that I am an anti-capitalist. It is my belief that money is a bad, bad thing. (It's either the worst, or the second worst, thing to ever happen to the planet - I can't decide) I am, however, enough of a realist to know that possessing a certain amount of "filthy lucre" is necessary for survival in today's world. It's a catch-22, you see. In order to be in a position to not have to have money, one must have money.

Specifically, if I had the money to purchase a large tract of land, then I could establish a self-sustaining farm. I could then stop having to concern myself with the accretion of money. I could plant and work my (heirloom only) garden, raise chickens (for the eggs) and some beef (for the dairy and the meat - yeah, I'm an omnivore), and exercise my writing and woodworking skills to my heart's content. (Of course, I would exist at the mercy of nature, but I'm fine with that.)

Problem is, I just can't make myself commit to earning the money. I've tried. In the past I've written out a five year plan, I've made attempts to "succeed in business", I've done lots of things to try to gain the necessary nest egg. I don't seem to be able to sustain these attempts. Holding a "real" job is, as a dear friend has put it, "soul sucking". The only fields of employment I've ever been happy in are music and theatre. I have only a modicum of musical talent, so there's no earning a living there. And, as a committed country dweller, there's absolutely no chance of making money in the field of theatre.

So, you ask, what does all this have to do with a wonky car? Well, living out in the boonies means that to work, I must have a car. And right now, the car needs work for which I do not have the money to pay. In point of fact, I have only enough money to purchase food for another week or two and then I shall be out.

I don't mean that my checking account will be low (I don't even have a checking account). I don't mean that my credit cards will be maxed - don't have any of those either. I mean I will have nothing but a jar full of pennies.

This situation does not depress me, as you might imagine it would. As I have said, I don't like money. It simply makes me not... care. When the situation resolves (which it always has in the past), I'll continue with my life. Make a few bucks here and there, buy food for myself and my kitties, whatever.

And if it shouldn't... whatever. Now, I'm gonna go enjoy me some nature!


NOTE: This post is not a cry for help. There is no crying involved. (There's no crying in baseball, either - but that's neither here nor there) Not in the writing - and not, I repeat not!, in the reading. It's just a rambling account of the musings of an old dog. :)

On Rape (and Prison Reform)

I am posting the following (which is a reprint of an opinion piece I wrote for the Rapid River Literary Magazine several years ago) not as another in my series "Hey, to introduce myself...", but as a response (in part) to this post at Shakesville. I realize that a good deal of it is not relevant to that discussion, but since it does express my opinion on the various subjects I didn't want to edit it.

June 2000
I just received word that (yet another) friend of mine has been raped. Quite unfortunately, this is not an uncommon experience. I just have one question. What the fuck is wrong with this civilization?!?!?! Why have we allowed the situation to become so intricately screwed up? Why has the quest to be the one with the most money been allowed to dominate this supposedly enlightened world we live in?

I know exactly what's going to happen with regards to the attack on my friend. Essentially the same thing that has happened in the cases of the other women that I know that have been raped. In the extremely small likelihood that anyone is ever brought to trial, even a conviction will probably not cause the rapist to spend any appreciable time behind bars. It can't, you see, because this violent, slime-encrusted, less worthy of respect than Hitler... entity... will be paroled to make more room in prison for non-violent drug offenders.

I want all of you pro-Drug War people reading this to listen closely. An increasingly larger majority of prison inmates are serving time for non-violent offenses. Due to the high cost of housing prisoners, not to mention the even higher cost of building new prisons to hold these perpetrators of crimes that have no victims, more and more violent offenders are being paroled.

Here's a shock; these violent offenders know this. What kind of detriment is this for them? They get to spend a couple of years on the public dole, and then they're released to attack someone else.

So we have two classes of people that we're talking about here. One group shoots, stabs, beats, rapes, robs, and generally makes their victim feel either unworthy of life or dead. The other group smokes up and either listens to Grateful Dead music, watches old Monty Python or similar humorous programs, or goes for a hike in the woods. And our society, our great experiment in democracy, our nation that was founded on individual rights and personal freedoms - has deemed it appropriate to release group one and hold group two - to protect society. Yeah right.

I don't really want to sound totally cynical, and I'm not a big believer in conspiracy theories, but let me just throw this out. How many millions of dollars a year in profits do pharmaceutical companies reap from prescriptions written by MD's and psychologists to treat the victims of violent crimes? How many contributions to society are delayed or lost forever by these same victims? Maybe you'll understand this one - How much are job productivity, profits, and health care costs affected by the employers of these victims? How much longer are we going to allow the people, as in "We the people", to be propagandized, prodded and frightened into not asserting their constitutionally guaranteed rights?

Now, I don't want you to think that I believe there should be no regulations regarding drugs. I think that cocaine and heroin should be more difficult to procure than winning lottery tickets, and I personally believe that whoever invented crack should be extradited to Saudi Arabia and punished according to the harshest possible interpretation of Sharia law. And I think that anyone who "turns on" children, other than their parents, should be treated just as harshly. But don't you see that placing a stigma on something just makes it more attractive to children and adolescents? Do you not remember being a teenager and rebelling (or at least wanting to) just because you could? Not to mention the fact that it would also piss off your parents.

Marijuana is called weed because it is one. Weeds grow anywhere and are impossible to eradicate. The effect of smoking it is very calming, so naturally smokers tend to be more pacifist than average. People with violent tendencies don't like the effect of pot on their systems, it takes away their rage. Maybe we should prescribe it for the violent offenders. They would be much less likely to commit the crimes in the first place, and if we arrested them for possession, at least we could keep them off the streets longer, thereby further reducing the risk to society at large.

One last thing, as you think about this article, think how you would feel if the next victim of my friend's attacker is your friend or sister or wife or mother.

I welcome any reasoned responses to, whether what I wrote agrees with you or pisses you off.

(To give you a bit of background on the above, not only had a friend been raped only days before I wrote it, but the attacker of another had just been paroled - after serving less than ten percent of his sentence. Hence my veering into a screed about the state of prisons. I also admit that my words did nothing to address the underlying problem. That is a failing on my part.)

Let me expand on the part of the above that is pertinent to this discussion. In the seven years since I wrote that editorial, many more of my friends have experienced rape - and it doesn't appear that any gains have been made towards stopping this offense against women (and indeed, all of humanity). In fact, it seems at times like the problem is getting worse. I don't know whether it is because civilization is becoming more polarized and violent or that we (or at least, I) are simply more aware of what has always been.

I have to believe, however, that strides (however small and insignificant they may seem) are being made to eradicate the underlying problems that promote acts such as rape - because to believe otherwise would be to believe that there is no hope for the future of our race. And if that is true, then all of us might just as well unplug our computers, lie down and drift off into that endless sleep that inevitably awaits.

I have tried, and shall continue to try, to have a positive effect by my actions and words. I suggest that we all do the same.

On Nature's Fury and the Internets (redux)

I am adrift. I am rudderless. I have no direction. I don't know what to do with myself. I stare blankly at the computer screen, not knowing where my life will go from here.

Am I suffering because of the death of Jerry Falwell? Oh, fuck no! Am I concerned over the future of the World Bank and Paul Wolfowitz? HA! Am I torn between Rudy Guiliani and Sam Brownshirt - er, Brownback? Only inasmuch as I don't know which of the two is more vile. Am I concerned about what our nation is doing in the Middle East? Well, yes, but that's not what I'm going on about.

No, what has me shivering with delerium tremens is the fact that Shakesville is partially offline. The most excellent Melissa McEwan, Queen Cunt of Fuck Mountain, Blogmistress Supreme, pointer-out of things of import, is without electricity in her abode and can therefore not post!

I have only been IV'ed to the net for the last few months, but have already come to rely on the internets for my daily dose of sanity, news, humor and outrage. I can only imagine the withdrawal that the denizens of Shakes Manor must be going through.

Luckily for all us Shakers (and I am honored to consider myself a minor one), the rest of the wonderful gang at that noble site is posting away. But I'm missing me some "Question of the Day" and "Two-Minute Nostalgia Sublime", plus whatever else Melissa would have posted were she not sans electricity.

I am glad to know that - other than being without power - Shakes Manor, and the residents therein, survived unscathed, and anxiously await Melissa's return to the 21st Century....

Daily Musings

My Dad, who is a retired Methodist minister and will be 87 next month, sends out a daily email to friends and family. This is from today's missive:

Dear Ones,

It’s been a rather somber week so I think its time for a bit o’ foolishness, like the following:

Famed fictional detective Sherlock Holmes and his gruff assistant Doctor Watson pitch their tent while on a camping expedition, but in the middle of the night Holmes nudges Watson awake and questions him, “Watson, look up at the stars and tell me what you deduce?”

After giving it some deep thought Watson replied, “I see millions of stars, and if there are millions of stars, and if even only a few of those have planets, it is quite likely there are some planets like earth, and if there are a few planets like earth there might also be life out there.”

“Watson, you idiot! Somebody stole our tent.”

A bit o’ humor can sometimes help us over the rough places along the way.

“Getting peace of mind isn't complicated. You merely feed your mind with thoughts that cause it to be peaceful. Practice thinking a carefully selected series of peaceful thoughts. Fill your mind with all the peaceful experiences possible, then make planned and deliberate excursions to them in memory. For example, visualize some beautiful valley filled with the hush of evening time, as the shadows lengthen and the sun sinks to rest. Or, recall the silvery light of the moon falling gently upon soft shores of sand. Or picture in your mind a beautiful sunrise over the mountains spreading its colorful rays into the valley below.”—Selected [I assume he left something out here.]

“We may not be able to give much but we can always give the joy that springs in a heart that is in love with God.”--Mother Teresa

With love,

Ole Man of the Mountain