no pie for you...just denial...that reminds me of...

• who said... - ...
  • I know the word has been used a lot but...that's SAD. - sam
  • gp - ...
    • I said that? - gourdpainter
      • no pie for you...just denial...that reminds me of... - nm
        • Lose the "denial" accusation will ya. - gourdpainter
          • ok, forgetfulness then - nm
  • this question makes me dizzy.....nm - aw

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It's called living in the Land of Oz.  I'm embarrassed for y'all, who are too ignorant to do your own research. 

Just pitiful socialists.  I hope y'all enjoy making less $ next year in the event Obama wins.  Run the numbers for yourself.  Better yet, run it by your CPA.  Yet, all I ever read here is how much less $ everyone makes literally constantly.

It's all emotion.   But funny how there's no emotion about aborting a baby on  moment's notice.

Shame, shame.

Proactive old-school people lived in a different world.  They were raised with different values, that they learned from the small circle of people around them in their families and communities, prior to a media driven society.  They had confidence born of being doers and fixers.

Sadly, they're speaking to a hostile audience, as each generation appears to become more apathetic and helpless.  Our values have shifted.  We consume and dispose, we don't plan and preserve, or heaven forbid, repair or do without.  We spend and do not save.  We accept and follow blindly whatever we are told.  We question nothing, because then we might have to DO something or change.  So much easier to go with the flow, wherever it takes us.

We don't want to see cause and effect.  We don't want to see it when we are part of the problem.  If the struggle to survive doesn't take up all our time, we're so busy obsessing over our looks and possessions (or that of celebrities) we can't be bothered to notice what's wrong, why its wrong, and what to do about it.  Fads and entertainment are all we appear enthused about.  We don't know why we're in a war, and we don't really care.  We don't know why the bank just sent us more fine print in the mail, we'll just shrug and pay the higher charges, OK, whatever.  We don't know why so many things are spiraling out of control, we'll just go back to our TV and assume there's nothing we can do about it.

Sure, it would be great if we could find a hero to fix it all for us.  As long as that hero didn't ask us to change.  The possibility that you or I could be that hero is just not going to cross our minds.  Meanwhile, we'll accept whoever volunteers for the job of running things, and not worry too much about what agendas motivate them. 

John Mc said he knew exactly how to find Bin Laden.  Shame he refuses to share his knowledge with the military leaders.

something that occurred about 25 years.  I was working in a law office, and one of the newer attorneys was reading a medical report that contained the word "cephalgia."  He almost started jumping up and down, really excited because (I think) it was such a "big word."

He asked if anyone had any medical background.  I said I had a little bit, and he asked me what cephalgia meant.

I said, "Well, let's see:  "Algia" means pain.  "Ceph" means pain, so pain in the head -- HEADACHE!"

I was relating this to a court reporter friend of mine who then asked me what I would call an analgesic.

I said, "Well, using my "formula," I guess it means "pain in the butt"!

an event that took place during the Iraq war (not sure of the date, but I'm sure some of you will remember it).  There was an Iraqi child who was (as well as many others) caugt in a bombing raid.  It was all over the news about how the US military had given him provisional care and transported him from place to place, trying to get him to a place where he could be treated appropriately.  Unfortunately (like many other Iraqi civilians) he eventually died.  This in itself was not that remarkable, especially considering at the time the US was lobbing bombs into Iraq with the precision of a pumpkin-chunkin contest.  What was remarkable, however, was when the doctor who was caring for the child came out and told the news of his death to the world.  There were several questions entertained by the doctor from reporters, but the one that really struck home for me was one from a US reporter.  The question was, do you think the boy understood what we are trying to do here?  The boy that died was all of about 4 or 5 years old. 

Not long after, the US decided to not show casualties in the news.  The government unfortunately was right in assuming the out of sight, out of mind thing would work.  It's amazing just how naive Americans can be.

This is a perfect example of what you would call American pride, honor, etc.  Nevermind the people who die, just make sure we look good doing it.  Again, I am not negating the value of the American soldiers here, they are simply doing what they've been told to do. 

When you talk about soldiers helping the Iraqi people, exactly how are they helping them?  Are they bringing them food and medicine because we have destroyed their infrastructure?  Are they helping them find a place to stay because their house played catch with a US missle?  Or are we just taking care of their kids because we took mommy and daddy to a torture camp?  Believe me, we are doing much more harm than help.  Have you noticed that Iraqi civilian casualties far outnumber the casualties of American soldiers?  Where's the help for that?

And yes, I did have someone serving in Iraq. 

an event that took place during the Iraq war (not sure of the date, but I'm sure some of you will remember it).  There was an Iraqi child who was (as well as many others) caugt in a bombing raid.  It was all over the news about how the US military had given him provisional care and transported him from place to place, trying to get him to a place where he could be treated appropriately.  Unfortunately (like many other Iraqi civilians) he eventually died.  This in itself was not that remarkable, especially considering at the time the US was lobbing bombs into Iraq with the precision of a pumpkin-chunkin contest.  What was remarkable, however, was when the doctor who was caring for the child came out and told the news of his death to the world.  There were several questions entertained by the doctor from reporters, but the one that really struck home for me was one from a US reporter.  The question was, do you think the boy understood what we are trying to do here?  The boy that died was all of about 4 or 5 years old. 

Not long after, the US decided to not show casualties in the news.  The story above may have contributed to this, but the basic idea was that Americans didn't like to see Americans dead.  The government unfortunately was right in assuming the out of sight, out of mind thing would work.  It's amazing just how naive Americans can be.

This is a perfect example of what you would call American pride, honor, etc.  Nevermind the people who die, just make sure we look good doing it.  Again, I am not negating the value of the American soldiers: they are simply doing what they've been told to do. 

When you talk about soldiers helping the Iraqi people, exactly how are they helping them?  Are they bringing them food and medicine because we have destroyed their infrastructure?  Are they helping them find a place to stay because their house played catch with a US missle?  Or are we just taking care of their kids because we took mommy and daddy to a torture camp?  Believe me, we are doing much more harm than help.  Have you noticed that Iraqi civilian casualties far outnumber the casualties of American soldiers?  Where's the help for that?

And yes, I did have someone serving in Iraq. 

our dad ever played on us, and it was at his own funeral many years ago.  The guy was a hoot.  Mom had died the year before, so my sister (same Norm Crosby sister) remembered exactly where in the cemetery the double-wide grave was. 

Dad’s procession wound through the grounds – he had a lot of friends, so it was a long parade.  The hearse stopped at the newly prepped grave with the canopy over it.  Our limo pulled up behind it.  My sister said, ‘This is the wrong place.’  Her husband said, ‘Nah, this looks like it.’  I had no recollection.  The pallbearers opened the hearse and started hauling the casket out and my sister made her husband go up and tell them to stop.  This was ALL WRONG.  So, they shoved the casket back in, and closed the doors.  Now you see it.  Now you don’t. 

All the people behind us started to get our of their cars, and mill around.  My sister went up there and now I could see a lot of gesturing and pointing.  She’s pointing way that-a-way and the cemetery crew are shaking their heads and pointing this-a-way.  So there was an intermission while somebody went to the office for a map. 

Now we have the map spread out on the hood of the hearse.  Nobody else in the crowd really knows what’s going on,  and sure enough, wrong grave.  Dad almost got himself interred for eternity next to some other woman.  You’d have to know my dad (and my mom) to get the joke. 

We agreed to have the graveside service there, but then he had to be moved to where the backhoe would shortly be hastily digging the grave in the proper location.

On the ride back in the funeral home limo we were giggling uncontrollably.  Her husband thought it was in very poor taste.  The limo driver kept remarking on what good sports we were.  Truly, dad almost got away with it.  You just hadda be there!

our dad ever played on us, and it was at his own funeral many years ago.  The guy was a hoot.  Mom had died the year before, so my sister (same Norm Crosby sister) remembered exactly where in the cemetery the double-wide grave was. 

Dad’s procession wound through the grounds – he had a lot of friends, so it was a long parade.  The hearse stopped at the newly prepped grave with the canopy over it.  Our limo pulled up behind it.  My sister said, ‘This is the wrong place.’  Her husband said, ‘Nah, this looks like it.’  I had no recollection.  The pallbearers opened the hearse and started hauling the casket out and my sister made her husband go up and tell them to stop.  This was ALL WRONG.  So, they shoved the casket back in, and closed the doors.  Now you see it.  Now you don’t. 

All the people behind us started to get our of their cars, and mill around.  My sister went up there and now I could see a lot of gesturing and pointing.  She’s pointing way that-a-way and the cemetery crew are shaking their heads and pointing this-a-way.  So there was an intermission while somebody went to the office for a map. 

Now we have the map spread out on the hood of the hearse.  Nobody else in the crowd really knows what’s going on,  and sure enough, wrong grave.  Dad almost got himself interred for eternity next to some other woman.  You’d have to know my dad (and my mom) to get the joke. 

We agreed to have the graveside service there, but then he had to be moved to where the backhoe would shortly be hastily digging the grave in the proper location.

On the ride back in the funeral home limo we were giggling uncontrollably.  Her husband thought it was in very poor taste.  The limo driver kept remarking on what good sports we were.  Truly, dad almost got away with it.  You just hadda be there!

people put together for their first kid.  Video of the delivery.  Baby's handprint and footprint. Lock of hair from Baby's first haircut.  Picture of Baby taking his first step.  First tooth Baby loses, and on and on and on.....

What's the followup plan for the 200th day and the 300th?  I'd like to pencil this on my calendar.