Wednesday, February 28, 2007
If you know the Florida Keys....GOOD MORNING!
And for me it it truly a glorious morn. I have been in bed for what seems an eternity with one of those flu viruses that accompany the massive influx of tourist participants of spring break. The day's magnificence always heightens when one hasn’t been apprised of its miracles due to the slumber that imprisoned one's senses.
After such exiles I always search my t-shirt collection for that one that brings me the most joy; Geiger Key Marina in Geiger Key Florida. I purchased it the day I was partaking of great food and even greater company. This shirt always conjures such memories of pork sandwiches, Sunday cookouts and two very adorable twins who just lived and frolicked to their hearts content at that campsite each and everyday. Greiger Key Marina at that time was truly a family conspiracy that could only net the most stunning of enjoyments. Some day I will get back to the Keys and set my course for mile maker (mm) number 10 with the hope that that part of the Keys has remained sublime.
After such exiles I always search my t-shirt collection for that one that brings me the most joy; Geiger Key Marina in Geiger Key Florida. I purchased it the day I was partaking of great food and even greater company. This shirt always conjures such memories of pork sandwiches, Sunday cookouts and two very adorable twins who just lived and frolicked to their hearts content at that campsite each and everyday. Greiger Key Marina at that time was truly a family conspiracy that could only net the most stunning of enjoyments. Some day I will get back to the Keys and set my course for mile maker (mm) number 10 with the hope that that part of the Keys has remained sublime.
…those pork sandwiches were awesome!
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Honda - Class Action Lawsuit - HA HA HA HA!
Clerk of the U.S. District Court for
The Eastern District of Texas
100 Houston Street
Marshall, TX 75670
RE: The proposed settlement in the class action suit against American Honda Motor Company, Honda Motor Company, Ltd., Nippon Seiki, and New Sabina
Dear Clerk of the U.S. District Court;
The proposed settlement in the class action suit against American Honda Motor Company, Honda Motor Company, Ltd., Nippon Seiki, and New Sabina is hardly justifiable considering that the 2003 Honda Civic, purchased new, and currently has less than 67000 that I own, is barred from getting current warranty repairs done as it is. A warranty today is not what it was when Detroit was in its heyday. Attached is a copy of a letter I sent to Honda’s office in California that states the scam that is currently taking place at the Orlando Florida Honda Dealership. Even though I made an appointment to have the repair made, and even though the representative, or consultant, said it would be “no problem,” it was indeed a problem, for without agreeing to have well over $400 worth of other estimated repairs performed on my brakes, I was forced to put off my scheduled repair at a future date. Likewise, everyone who was waiting to have service repairs performed on their vehicles that morning were given an “other things that really need to be done” list. If I am unable to have the repairs performed under the current warranty, what affect will an extension of this fraudulent warranty have? What justifies such a feeble outcome?
Charges of odometer tampering are criminal and Honda’s human representatives, not the corporate fiction, should be charged justly. I am willing to accept Honda’s full apology, represented in the keys to a 2007 Honda Civic. Considering criminal jail time, probationary periods, lost time from employment, as well as fines this is not an outrageous demand. Had I been caught with my hand in the odometer cookie jar I would not have these mild consequences brought to my head.
To extend an empty warranty is not a punishment against Honda, it is a gift. Criminals do not deserve gifts.
Respectfully submitted,
The Eastern District of Texas
100 Houston Street
Marshall, TX 75670
RE: The proposed settlement in the class action suit against American Honda Motor Company, Honda Motor Company, Ltd., Nippon Seiki, and New Sabina
Dear Clerk of the U.S. District Court;
The proposed settlement in the class action suit against American Honda Motor Company, Honda Motor Company, Ltd., Nippon Seiki, and New Sabina is hardly justifiable considering that the 2003 Honda Civic, purchased new, and currently has less than 67000 that I own, is barred from getting current warranty repairs done as it is. A warranty today is not what it was when Detroit was in its heyday. Attached is a copy of a letter I sent to Honda’s office in California that states the scam that is currently taking place at the Orlando Florida Honda Dealership. Even though I made an appointment to have the repair made, and even though the representative, or consultant, said it would be “no problem,” it was indeed a problem, for without agreeing to have well over $400 worth of other estimated repairs performed on my brakes, I was forced to put off my scheduled repair at a future date. Likewise, everyone who was waiting to have service repairs performed on their vehicles that morning were given an “other things that really need to be done” list. If I am unable to have the repairs performed under the current warranty, what affect will an extension of this fraudulent warranty have? What justifies such a feeble outcome?
Charges of odometer tampering are criminal and Honda’s human representatives, not the corporate fiction, should be charged justly. I am willing to accept Honda’s full apology, represented in the keys to a 2007 Honda Civic. Considering criminal jail time, probationary periods, lost time from employment, as well as fines this is not an outrageous demand. Had I been caught with my hand in the odometer cookie jar I would not have these mild consequences brought to my head.
To extend an empty warranty is not a punishment against Honda, it is a gift. Criminals do not deserve gifts.
Respectfully submitted,
Monday, February 19, 2007
Lawrence of Arabia - Thought for the day's history lesson
"On the whole I prefer lies to truth. "History is but a series of accepted lies" Thomas Edward Lawrence.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Many Lives, Many Masters - tee hee hee
Many Lives, Many Masters, is a title sure to catch the eye of one in search of another dimension. I myself have considered the title Time: The Aliens’ Companion in Abduction. The two spellbinding titles are comparable in that the contents of neither can be confirmed or denied.
Brian Weiss’ role in his text provides him the cloak and shield he requires to be absolved of answers to poignant interrogation; specifically doctor - patient confidentiality. As a physician Weiss cannot reveal his client/patient’s true identity. Simultaneously he is able to refrain from imparting an answer on the grounds that it could expose his client/patient relationship. Brian Weiss’s Many Lives, Many Masters is a poor rendition of some of the works of mediocre science fiction novelists.
“Subtle chills darted through the evening air. I chose to close and lock the windows throughout the house. The long, brocade drapes were drawn shut to deter the chill on the windows from tainting the warm air strategically trapped inside the house. The last light was switched off leaving the bedroom with the green glow of the clock radio. Hmm. One o’clock AM, I mused. One o’clock? But I went to bed at ten. My thoughts were interrupted with a warm summer breeze. The drape lifted and tickled my hair and back. I thought I closed the window. I felt the warm sunshine. It was shining in my bedroom. Everything was the color of the sun. Voices in my head repeated in a whisper, “She’s not ready yet. She’s not ready yet. She’s not ready yet. She’s not ready yet. She’s not ready yet.” Finally a tonal change, “There is no reason to fear.”
“The windows were closed when I went to bed.” I mumbled with extraordinary effort.
“We can hear you. You don’t need to speak. We can hear you. We will keep you safe.”
The creatures that surrounded my bed were cloaked in the color of the sun.”……………..Did I ever tell you about my close encounters of a third kind? They’re very real. You don’t doubt me do you? I swear, like Weiss, that everything I have written is true.
Weiss’ client Catherine may have had past lives or Catherine may have been channeling information from the past. Perhaps the Walrus was right when he said, “I am you, and you are me, and we are all together.” (Lennon & McCartney) We could be quite able to pick up the knowledge of the past through energy left behind by those who have gone before us. We could already be “dead, ” although I’m not certain what dead is for we are energy. Remember our science labs where we learned energy cannot be created or destroyed? Hence there is no death.
“To be in the physical state is abnormal.” (Weiss, p. 121) Are these gems of wisdom insightful, or redundant from philosophers past and present? This is certainly not profound, nor is “Energy…everything is energy.” Scientists and philosophers both concur on this point. (Weiss, p. 121) What is curious is what follows: “So much (energy) is wasted.” (Weiss, p. 121) My curiosity is peaked. If energy cannot be created or destroyed then how is it wasted?
The selfishness of Weiss’ experiment was astounding. His decision to put Catherine under hypnosis is driven by his desire to derive more information for himself. When she grows weary of her efforts he asks, “Is there more I should learn?” (Weiss, p.112) The woman is exhausted, but Weiss’ greed for knowledge is unquenchable. (It would be delightful to learn that all the voices that were pumped through Catherine came from the anti-Christ.) Catherine refuses to hear the tape recordings he has made of her trances, and Weiss placates his tremendous ego with “This is for you, not for her.” (Weiss, p. 91) Really? And are the profits from the sale of the book, the media appearances and interviews; are they to share with the woman who produced Weiss’s fame? Weiss’ text raised many unanswered questions, but then that is his game. Catherine’s past lives were trials as is her present life. It is difficult for to accept Weiss’ decision to regress his client. The use of regression therapy on a person of abuse is equivalent to bringing a lit blowtorch into an unlit storage closet where dynamite is scattered haphazardly. Why would an educated doctor perform his duties irresponsibly? Perhaps to sacrifice an insignificant Catherine for the greater good of Brian Weiss, M.D? Perhaps the “M.D.” in Brian’s case stands for mad dog.
Brian Weiss’ role in his text provides him the cloak and shield he requires to be absolved of answers to poignant interrogation; specifically doctor - patient confidentiality. As a physician Weiss cannot reveal his client/patient’s true identity. Simultaneously he is able to refrain from imparting an answer on the grounds that it could expose his client/patient relationship. Brian Weiss’s Many Lives, Many Masters is a poor rendition of some of the works of mediocre science fiction novelists.
“Subtle chills darted through the evening air. I chose to close and lock the windows throughout the house. The long, brocade drapes were drawn shut to deter the chill on the windows from tainting the warm air strategically trapped inside the house. The last light was switched off leaving the bedroom with the green glow of the clock radio. Hmm. One o’clock AM, I mused. One o’clock? But I went to bed at ten. My thoughts were interrupted with a warm summer breeze. The drape lifted and tickled my hair and back. I thought I closed the window. I felt the warm sunshine. It was shining in my bedroom. Everything was the color of the sun. Voices in my head repeated in a whisper, “She’s not ready yet. She’s not ready yet. She’s not ready yet. She’s not ready yet. She’s not ready yet.” Finally a tonal change, “There is no reason to fear.”
“The windows were closed when I went to bed.” I mumbled with extraordinary effort.
“We can hear you. You don’t need to speak. We can hear you. We will keep you safe.”
The creatures that surrounded my bed were cloaked in the color of the sun.”……………..Did I ever tell you about my close encounters of a third kind? They’re very real. You don’t doubt me do you? I swear, like Weiss, that everything I have written is true.
Weiss’ client Catherine may have had past lives or Catherine may have been channeling information from the past. Perhaps the Walrus was right when he said, “I am you, and you are me, and we are all together.” (Lennon & McCartney) We could be quite able to pick up the knowledge of the past through energy left behind by those who have gone before us. We could already be “dead, ” although I’m not certain what dead is for we are energy. Remember our science labs where we learned energy cannot be created or destroyed? Hence there is no death.
“To be in the physical state is abnormal.” (Weiss, p. 121) Are these gems of wisdom insightful, or redundant from philosophers past and present? This is certainly not profound, nor is “Energy…everything is energy.” Scientists and philosophers both concur on this point. (Weiss, p. 121) What is curious is what follows: “So much (energy) is wasted.” (Weiss, p. 121) My curiosity is peaked. If energy cannot be created or destroyed then how is it wasted?
The selfishness of Weiss’ experiment was astounding. His decision to put Catherine under hypnosis is driven by his desire to derive more information for himself. When she grows weary of her efforts he asks, “Is there more I should learn?” (Weiss, p.112) The woman is exhausted, but Weiss’ greed for knowledge is unquenchable. (It would be delightful to learn that all the voices that were pumped through Catherine came from the anti-Christ.) Catherine refuses to hear the tape recordings he has made of her trances, and Weiss placates his tremendous ego with “This is for you, not for her.” (Weiss, p. 91) Really? And are the profits from the sale of the book, the media appearances and interviews; are they to share with the woman who produced Weiss’s fame? Weiss’ text raised many unanswered questions, but then that is his game. Catherine’s past lives were trials as is her present life. It is difficult for to accept Weiss’ decision to regress his client. The use of regression therapy on a person of abuse is equivalent to bringing a lit blowtorch into an unlit storage closet where dynamite is scattered haphazardly. Why would an educated doctor perform his duties irresponsibly? Perhaps to sacrifice an insignificant Catherine for the greater good of Brian Weiss, M.D? Perhaps the “M.D.” in Brian’s case stands for mad dog.
Demarcation of the Finish Line, Please!
It sounds silly to ask for insight into something for which we already possess the knowledge. “I just want to know when I’m going to die.” But you’re not going to die. You can’t die. Energy doesn’t operate that way. I suppose the question is “when do I leave this stage and move on to the next?” But the answer to that is as elementary as the school, for how does one get to first grade? Logically the answer follows “when kindergarten has fulfilled you.”
Very well, I’ll play the game. Do I want to know when I’m going to die? It’s difficult to play when the rules are so obvious. We die when we choose.
“Oh come on! Are you saying that everyone in the Trade Towers decided to die September 11, 2001?”
Why not? Anything is possible. The shear numbers enhance the drama. And to be a drone in the Towers could very well have created a leave-able life. Life in the Big Apple may not have been for those who left the stage all that Woody Allen portrays it to be. Consider those who chose not to go to work that day. Did those lives in the Towers have the same feeling of foreboding and chose to ignore it? We know so little how can we negate a possibility when we ourselves are so ignorant of reality. Huxley wrote in The Doors of Perception that our brains are actually our inhibitors that prevent us from seeing and understanding everything. There are more things in Heaven and Earth than we fathom as humans. Just as a child cannot conceive of someone bigger and stronger than his or her father, we childlike innocents refuse to believe that which cannot see, hear, feel, touch, or comprehend.
We know when we are going to die, whatever that is. I suppose it’s a misnomer because death means end to life, but life has no end, it merely changes. Tonight the chameleon nuclear explosion that warms the earth “died” from yellow to orange as the Earth turned the east coast away from is energy giving life. Yet in Los Angeles the fiery ball was yellow. The sun didn’t “die”, nor did it “set” for that matter. Such poets we are with poor phraseologies to describe exactly what isn’t happening. The Earth turned.
“Death” should be eliminated from our vocabularies. Death does not exist. It never existed therefore it is dead. Or maybe it’s alive because we created it…… Did I answer the question?
Very well, I’ll play the game. Do I want to know when I’m going to die? It’s difficult to play when the rules are so obvious. We die when we choose.
“Oh come on! Are you saying that everyone in the Trade Towers decided to die September 11, 2001?”
Why not? Anything is possible. The shear numbers enhance the drama. And to be a drone in the Towers could very well have created a leave-able life. Life in the Big Apple may not have been for those who left the stage all that Woody Allen portrays it to be. Consider those who chose not to go to work that day. Did those lives in the Towers have the same feeling of foreboding and chose to ignore it? We know so little how can we negate a possibility when we ourselves are so ignorant of reality. Huxley wrote in The Doors of Perception that our brains are actually our inhibitors that prevent us from seeing and understanding everything. There are more things in Heaven and Earth than we fathom as humans. Just as a child cannot conceive of someone bigger and stronger than his or her father, we childlike innocents refuse to believe that which cannot see, hear, feel, touch, or comprehend.
We know when we are going to die, whatever that is. I suppose it’s a misnomer because death means end to life, but life has no end, it merely changes. Tonight the chameleon nuclear explosion that warms the earth “died” from yellow to orange as the Earth turned the east coast away from is energy giving life. Yet in Los Angeles the fiery ball was yellow. The sun didn’t “die”, nor did it “set” for that matter. Such poets we are with poor phraseologies to describe exactly what isn’t happening. The Earth turned.
“Death” should be eliminated from our vocabularies. Death does not exist. It never existed therefore it is dead. Or maybe it’s alive because we created it…… Did I answer the question?
Fear of Death at the University of Florida
Hmmm. Fear of death. Is that the same as fear of life? It must be for death is a part of life. Any part of life faced with anxiety is fear of living. What a great trip it’s been. Can’t wait to come back and skate through it again.
We don’t go toward the light. We are the light. We are magnificent perfection. Here we play the children’s games in costume. We take on roles and play on a grid that permits us to act out our thoughts safely. We share the stage with many points of light and hence the varying thoughts create the world: collective consciousness. This is good because it lends to flexibility while we pass an insignificant amount of “time” here on this place called Earth in the thing entitled “the Galaxy Milky Way.” We are the sum of the parts and we are whole.
We are not judged for our deeds here on Earth. Oh what an imperfect God that would be to stamp us with the official “God seal of approval.” That logic grows from dysfunctional families we are born into that play Cinderella games and fill our tender minds with dribble in order to muddy our once clear and perceptive thought. But this too is a part of the game. Someone has to play the bad guy. Many take the evil seriously enough to hit the “delete” key before their chosen path has been completed. That’s cool. They will return on a new course to challenge their light.
Fear of death? It comes in the package our consciounesses create. Fear this, fear that. Fear the government. Fear the police. Fear the IRS. Every now and then someone utters the truth and Madison Avenue types come along and cash in on the phrase. “There’s nothing to fear but fear itself.” We create fear. It is NOT natural. We do not fear falling. We fear stopping. Seldom do we really want the game to end. Seldom do we want to “go home for dinner.” As children we loved to drop off of things. No fear. In swimming classes at the YMCA the children were instructed to “bang the bleachers” with their hands so the swim instructors could insure these surrogate babes weren’t naturally drawn to the water to become one with the wetness. We create fear with our imaginations.
We are born as love. We lose the definition of love and chase it throughout our lives. We are taught it is found in another person. We are taught it’s in a religion. We are taught all wrong. That’s okay. It’s all part of the nonsensical rules to a child’s game. When we understand that love is within and not without; we learn to love our own self and we blossom.
Fear of death? The animals and plants we surround ourselves with remind us each and everyday that from this misnomer “death” comes life. The fallen tree in the forest harbors new life and is equally important as when it’s stood strong and straight. Obviously death isn’t all that bad when it harbors the hives that create honey. I love death. I embrace it. But it knows that, so it does not haunt my life. Love is all there is. Unfortunately they commercialized that too. But it’s part of the game!
We don’t go toward the light. We are the light. We are magnificent perfection. Here we play the children’s games in costume. We take on roles and play on a grid that permits us to act out our thoughts safely. We share the stage with many points of light and hence the varying thoughts create the world: collective consciousness. This is good because it lends to flexibility while we pass an insignificant amount of “time” here on this place called Earth in the thing entitled “the Galaxy Milky Way.” We are the sum of the parts and we are whole.
We are not judged for our deeds here on Earth. Oh what an imperfect God that would be to stamp us with the official “God seal of approval.” That logic grows from dysfunctional families we are born into that play Cinderella games and fill our tender minds with dribble in order to muddy our once clear and perceptive thought. But this too is a part of the game. Someone has to play the bad guy. Many take the evil seriously enough to hit the “delete” key before their chosen path has been completed. That’s cool. They will return on a new course to challenge their light.
Fear of death? It comes in the package our consciounesses create. Fear this, fear that. Fear the government. Fear the police. Fear the IRS. Every now and then someone utters the truth and Madison Avenue types come along and cash in on the phrase. “There’s nothing to fear but fear itself.” We create fear. It is NOT natural. We do not fear falling. We fear stopping. Seldom do we really want the game to end. Seldom do we want to “go home for dinner.” As children we loved to drop off of things. No fear. In swimming classes at the YMCA the children were instructed to “bang the bleachers” with their hands so the swim instructors could insure these surrogate babes weren’t naturally drawn to the water to become one with the wetness. We create fear with our imaginations.
We are born as love. We lose the definition of love and chase it throughout our lives. We are taught it is found in another person. We are taught it’s in a religion. We are taught all wrong. That’s okay. It’s all part of the nonsensical rules to a child’s game. When we understand that love is within and not without; we learn to love our own self and we blossom.
Fear of death? The animals and plants we surround ourselves with remind us each and everyday that from this misnomer “death” comes life. The fallen tree in the forest harbors new life and is equally important as when it’s stood strong and straight. Obviously death isn’t all that bad when it harbors the hives that create honey. I love death. I embrace it. But it knows that, so it does not haunt my life. Love is all there is. Unfortunately they commercialized that too. But it’s part of the game!
He who steals my purse
Long ago when I was a free-spirited teen, I spent some years among the Onondaga Indians. Their method of salutation and communication was apparently different. Their reason continues to confound my rationale of proper etiquette.
“White people are always stealing energy,” my friend Kim would accuse. Kim worked at a construction site on the campus of Syracuse University. When he spoke he rarely made eye contact with anyone. Our first introduction was not met with a handshake. It was never a comfortable relationship. As a white person I expected Kim to look at me when he spoke. He did not. I was insulted when he made no effort to shake my hand when we were introduced.
As our friendship grew he explained how people steal energy from one another. He reminded me that we are nothing more than energy. He said that white people are quite aware of their efforts to steal energy through hand and eye contact in order to grow in self-power. He pointed out that many Asian people bow when introduced and never make eye contact for the same reason Indians do not. Kim explained that touch was something shared with people one was able to trust: wife, children, etc. because energy was restricted to the circle. “America is strong because its leaders steal energy,” he’d accuse. Energy thievery, is it possible? And if mine were to be stolen would it be akin to the contents of my purse? After all, it is widely known that he who steals my purse steals trash.
“White people are always stealing energy,” my friend Kim would accuse. Kim worked at a construction site on the campus of Syracuse University. When he spoke he rarely made eye contact with anyone. Our first introduction was not met with a handshake. It was never a comfortable relationship. As a white person I expected Kim to look at me when he spoke. He did not. I was insulted when he made no effort to shake my hand when we were introduced.
As our friendship grew he explained how people steal energy from one another. He reminded me that we are nothing more than energy. He said that white people are quite aware of their efforts to steal energy through hand and eye contact in order to grow in self-power. He pointed out that many Asian people bow when introduced and never make eye contact for the same reason Indians do not. Kim explained that touch was something shared with people one was able to trust: wife, children, etc. because energy was restricted to the circle. “America is strong because its leaders steal energy,” he’d accuse. Energy thievery, is it possible? And if mine were to be stolen would it be akin to the contents of my purse? After all, it is widely known that he who steals my purse steals trash.
Every Color But Blue
It’s blue.
It’s every color but blue.
It looks blue.
Yes, I know, but that’s how color
comes through to your eye.
So red is every color but red?
Exactly.
And yellow?
Is every color but yellow.
So how do we know…?
We don’t.
Do chemists?
I can’t say that I do?
Does it work with music?
Specifically?
Is “C” every note but “C?”
(A silent sign.)
There’s a playful gleam
in the corner of you eye.
Nothing is as it seems.
The brain is not for thought.
The heart’s beat is
the drum that distracts.
I am Alice in Wonderland.
You’re smiling. I’m right?
Maybe.
How will I know?
You will.
Is this good-bye or is it blue?
It’s every color but blue.
It looks blue.
Yes, I know, but that’s how color
comes through to your eye.
So red is every color but red?
Exactly.
And yellow?
Is every color but yellow.
So how do we know…?
We don’t.
Do chemists?
I can’t say that I do?
Does it work with music?
Specifically?
Is “C” every note but “C?”
(A silent sign.)
There’s a playful gleam
in the corner of you eye.
Nothing is as it seems.
The brain is not for thought.
The heart’s beat is
the drum that distracts.
I am Alice in Wonderland.
You’re smiling. I’m right?
Maybe.
How will I know?
You will.
Is this good-bye or is it blue?
If we do not learn from history....?
According to pages 266-267 in Oren's chronology, General Stone is yet another interesting bastard of history who justified leaving his wife, Jeannie and three teen daughters to fend for themselves while he remained in Alexandria, and they as bait to a culture that consistently showed little or no respect to anyone they captured, thereby causing their fate to be hideous should they fall victim to the people of Cairo. The self-important general saw fit to put his son on a well guarded ship, out of harms way...and more likely than not out of ear and eye-shot to his extra-sexual curricular activities. But Oren's book deletes the real and only focuses on the swash-buckling romance of the East. When history is written it is always "his story," because to the victor belongs the spoils, but how can we learn from his-story of the story is always contrived to serve the writer and that sovereign for whom she/he writes. If Oren were to write of the Iran War brought to us by George Herbert Walker Bush would he neglect to include the US involvement of burying people alive? And would he neglect to inform the Clinton drum beaters of all the people he burned alive not only in Waco but in Sarajevo? Will we be forced to repeat history because we really don't know the his-story?
Dumas is criticized for his embellishments of chronology in French history in order to serve his prose of romanticism, yet at this point one must reflect as to who has embellished more often, great scholars or great writers?
Dumas is criticized for his embellishments of chronology in French history in order to serve his prose of romanticism, yet at this point one must reflect as to who has embellished more often, great scholars or great writers?
Friday, February 16, 2007
Biteme Michael Oren!
Michael B Oren, author of Power Faith and Fantasy can be recognized as enigmatic as those he criticizes. Oren points out that although it was justifiable in the eyes of most visitors from the U.S. to view white slavery with contempt, they failed to see that back home slavery of the black, (or Chinese – curious how he overlooked the Chinese slaves), was permissible. Mr. Oren, while snickering mildly throughout the 18th and 19th Centuries at the Puritan, and other religious rights, dedicated attempts to give back Palestine to the Jewish people who lost it through injustices, he somehow neglected to point out that no one, not even he at the time of his writing, saw any need to give back U.S. territory to the Native American Nations. Why is it that not one of these Bible beaters came to the rescue of the tribes in North America that fell victim to genocide? Oren quotes a November 1852 New York Times article, in which a Presbyterian Reverend George Potts warns Americans to treat other nations as our neighbors. If Potts did indeed state this, for newspapers are as notorious as historians at not getting the story straight, then why didn't Potts feel equally compelled to entreat the US government to make full apologies for the atrocities its government inflicted on the Native North Americans?
A true tale of humanity that took place at a local eatery at the Butler Plaza in Gainesville Florida:
I was meeting routinely with a Japanese physician who asked if I would assist him in his efforts in articulation of the onerous English language, for he was giving a presentation to other physicians on head trauma and knew his information would be disregarded if his speech was incoherent. The physician was like many physicians in that he was arrogant, believing that only his opinion mattered and all other people were merely ignorant fools who await his enlightenment. At the same time he loved held his mother and sister very dear to his heart and often expressed his longing to see them when he returned to Japan.
The physician often expressed his impatience with people who just couldn't forget the past and move on to the future. His greatest irritation was with the Chinese, who at the time were demanding an apology from Japan for the atrocities the invoked on the people of China. "How stupid. They are such children to bring up such things," the physician royally declared. When I sat silent his highness asked why I just didn't agree with him. I waited, and then proposed the following to him, "What if you returned from the United States to find your sister and mother beaten, tortured, and raped, left barely alive, and able to only express their horror with their eyes?" The physician was horrified. He could not believe I would dream of such a scenario and left. Days later he called to set-up another session in articulation. He brought with him a small token of his appreciation and admitted his failure in rationale.
We are indeed a treacherous species willing to run to the opposite side of the globe to help the needy, but fail to offer any assistance to those we pass by daily with our noses turned aside. Without reason our vision remains tunneled and our issues on our own turf go unresolved. It is always easier to recognize the “evils of others.”
Throughout the history of the species known as human, we humans, regardless of national origin, have been consistent in 3 areas; 1) our hatred void of justification, 2) our willingness to dominate and/or enslave, and 3) our cyclical, seemingly nutritious need to perform acts of genocide. When laws, or declarations are passed the consequences of not abiding by them are seldom experienced except by the fictitious Arthur in Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court. When Arthur was manacled he was able to feel the bite of his own pen and seal, which he put into the enforcement of his decrees. “You see, he knew his own laws just as other people so often know the laws; by words, not by effects. They take a meaning, and get to be very vivid, when you come to apply them to yourself.”
Oren, your history is entertaining, as are you. In your next recount of your fabled history (his - story) try to include the Native American perspective, perhaps you will reconsider your adjectives implemented on Grant’s behalf. Interestingly enough Twain had an equal opinion of the original owners of North America as he did the people of the East. Just because one is funny doesn’t mean that one correct in rationale.
A true tale of humanity that took place at a local eatery at the Butler Plaza in Gainesville Florida:
I was meeting routinely with a Japanese physician who asked if I would assist him in his efforts in articulation of the onerous English language, for he was giving a presentation to other physicians on head trauma and knew his information would be disregarded if his speech was incoherent. The physician was like many physicians in that he was arrogant, believing that only his opinion mattered and all other people were merely ignorant fools who await his enlightenment. At the same time he loved held his mother and sister very dear to his heart and often expressed his longing to see them when he returned to Japan.
The physician often expressed his impatience with people who just couldn't forget the past and move on to the future. His greatest irritation was with the Chinese, who at the time were demanding an apology from Japan for the atrocities the invoked on the people of China. "How stupid. They are such children to bring up such things," the physician royally declared. When I sat silent his highness asked why I just didn't agree with him. I waited, and then proposed the following to him, "What if you returned from the United States to find your sister and mother beaten, tortured, and raped, left barely alive, and able to only express their horror with their eyes?" The physician was horrified. He could not believe I would dream of such a scenario and left. Days later he called to set-up another session in articulation. He brought with him a small token of his appreciation and admitted his failure in rationale.
We are indeed a treacherous species willing to run to the opposite side of the globe to help the needy, but fail to offer any assistance to those we pass by daily with our noses turned aside. Without reason our vision remains tunneled and our issues on our own turf go unresolved. It is always easier to recognize the “evils of others.”
Throughout the history of the species known as human, we humans, regardless of national origin, have been consistent in 3 areas; 1) our hatred void of justification, 2) our willingness to dominate and/or enslave, and 3) our cyclical, seemingly nutritious need to perform acts of genocide. When laws, or declarations are passed the consequences of not abiding by them are seldom experienced except by the fictitious Arthur in Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court. When Arthur was manacled he was able to feel the bite of his own pen and seal, which he put into the enforcement of his decrees. “You see, he knew his own laws just as other people so often know the laws; by words, not by effects. They take a meaning, and get to be very vivid, when you come to apply them to yourself.”
Oren, your history is entertaining, as are you. In your next recount of your fabled history (his - story) try to include the Native American perspective, perhaps you will reconsider your adjectives implemented on Grant’s behalf. Interestingly enough Twain had an equal opinion of the original owners of North America as he did the people of the East. Just because one is funny doesn’t mean that one correct in rationale.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Ararat the movie
An incredible film...but the line from the US whatever the heck he was, should have been deleted. When this named US diplomat poured over the atrocities of the Turk genocide of the Armenians he was heard to say that it was the most historic genocide in that it was the most brutal...this is coming from a United States citizen in the early 1900s just after these government official clowns wiped out, in the same fashion as the Turks, almost the entire population of Native North Americans. - Other than that it was a phenomenal film.
being lubed in a jiffy
This is an eye-opener to people younger that 40 because Jiffy Lube was exposed by 60 minutes in the early 80s. In the 80s I was hired by 2 entrepenures who ran Jiffy Lubes. We were always getting calls from the media. (They fired me for having cancer and raising their employee insurance rates.) Rules to live by: Try to eat at home as often as possible, and never take your car to where you cannot observe the on-going work.
http://mfile.akamai.com/12924/wmv/vod.ibsys.com/2006/0503/9152183.200k.asx
http://mfile.akamai.com/12924/wmv/vod.ibsys.com/2006/0503/9152183.200k.asx
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Little Big Man - A classic western?
Lines that resonate in the movie industry that can be considered classic are those that leave the viewer with further thought to the conveyances of script. Who will ever forget The Reverend Pendrake’s wife's resolution to cleanse the soul of “that dirty boy,” by administering to him an “immediate and proper bath?” Who didn’t snigger when the 2 stars were seen once again, decades later, together in “The Messenger?” Classic stuff!
Friday, February 09, 2007
Thought for everyday
"Men in general judge more by sense of sight than by sense of touch, because everyone can see but only a few can test by feeling. Everyone sees what you seem to be, few know what you really are: and those few do not dare take a stand against general opinion."
Machiavelli, The Prince
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Donkeys & Elephants: Waco & Savings & Loans Crisis
Remember, when speaking of Democrats and Republicans there is very little, if any, difference. Case in point: IF the Democrats wanted to win the election against GW, or Jeb for that matter, then why did they not bring up Neil Bush's theft in the monumental Savings & Loan scandal? There are many such cases. The politics in the US has not divided, instead it has become a year 'round sports event that maintains attention to divert the spectators from the important issues.
With great power comes great responsibility and that responsibility is to maintain power no matter which icon you wear, not matter the cost.
REMEMBER BILL CLINTON? Do you recall his greatness? Then think again:
Don't forget all of those dead kids at Waco, Texas. And don't forget that they hired a lesbian pedophile with aids ( Janet Reno) as highest law enforcement officer in the land. Three of the ATF agents who died at Waco were Clinton's bodyguards while Govenor of Arkansas. They each had a neat hole in the back side of their heads.The 30K check found in the storage unit in Arkansas and the Old folks in Iowa that paid three times as much when she got through with their deals.
With great power comes great responsibility and that responsibility is to maintain power no matter which icon you wear, not matter the cost.
REMEMBER BILL CLINTON? Do you recall his greatness? Then think again:
Don't forget all of those dead kids at Waco, Texas. And don't forget that they hired a lesbian pedophile with aids ( Janet Reno) as highest law enforcement officer in the land. Three of the ATF agents who died at Waco were Clinton's bodyguards while Govenor of Arkansas. They each had a neat hole in the back side of their heads.The 30K check found in the storage unit in Arkansas and the Old folks in Iowa that paid three times as much when she got through with their deals.
