Friday, July 31, 2009

o.k. babies- raining or not- IT'S FRIDAY!!!!!

yogi on the swing!


still raining. got soaked grocery shopping early this morning. came home and put the stuff away and took a hot shower and now i'm trying to decide what really needs to be done and what can wait.

i've used my new garden hose twice this summer!!!
friday- JOKE DAY!

another from my cuz, linda:

I was in the pub yesterday when I suddenly realized I desperately needed to
leave a fluffy,( for the jokes purpose I am substituting Fluffy for fart). The music was really, really loud, so I timed my fluffys with the beat.

After a couple of songs, I started to feel better. I finished my pint and
noticed that everybody was staring at me.

Then I suddenly remembered that I was listening to my iPod.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

i am NOT saying anything, but if you've a dirty mind...

Iranian Rally at Neda Graveside

Iranian Rally at Neda Graveside

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laundry and the cat box and cleaning up the kitchen-check!
poached a chicken breast and put it in the fridge for later. talked to my mother on the phone, took max out a kazillion times,wrote grocery list, made bed...

mov'n and groov'n!

GOP Shocked by Discovery of Long Lost Document

GOP Shocked by Discovery of Long Lost Document

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Breaking News Alert
The New York Times
Thursday, July 30, 2009 -- 10:31 AM ET

U.S. Adviser's Blunt Memo on Iraq: Time 'to Go Home'

A senior American military adviser in Baghdad has concluded
in an unusually blunt memo that the Iraqi forces suffer from
deeply entrenched deficiencies but are now capable of
protecting the Iraqi government and that it is time "for the
U.S. to declare victory and go home."

Read More:

Blue Gal: Why Rush Limbaugh isn't toe-to-toe with live audiences

Blue Gal: Why Rush Limbaugh isn't toe-to-toe with live audiences

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Shatner Reads Palin's Tweets (07/29/09)

Too Hot for Fox News - Page 1 - The Daily Beast

Too Hot for Fox News - Page 1 - The Daily Beast

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what a steaming pile o' crap!!!

Elderly shopaholic found dead under pile of clothes

Elderly shopaholic found dead under pile of clothes

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thanks, utah:


by Maya Angelou

When I was young, I used to
Watch behind the curtains
As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.
Young men sharp as mustard.
See them. Men are always
Going somewhere.
They knew I was there. Fifteen
Years old and starving for them.
Under my window, they would pause,
Their shoulders high like the
Breasts of a young girl,
Jacket tails slapping over
Those behinds,

One day they hold you in the
Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you
Were the last raw egg in the world. Then
They tighten up. Just a little. The
First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.
Soft into your defenselessness. A little
More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a
Smile that slides around the fear. When the
Air disappears,
Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,
Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.
It is your juice
That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.
When the earth rights itself again,
And taste tries to return to the tongue,
Your body has slammed shut. Forever.
No keys exist.

Then the window draws full upon
Your mind. There, just beyond
The sway of curtains, men walk.
Knowing something.
Going someplace.
But this time, I will simply
Stand and watch.

some very good posts by blue gal below:

Blue Gal

Blue Gal

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Blue Gal

Blue Gal

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got up early today- max looked at me funny. i swear dogs and cats have built in alarm clocks.

the woods were magickal in the mist today.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

rain slowed. my mother is doing alright. she has about 6 or so holes in her leg from that freaking cat but so far the anti-biotic seem to be working. my daughter went today and changed the dressing.

mom says it hurts but she will not let us get rid of the cat!
no one will come for the cat unless my mother agrees to it and so...

i'm on pins and needles waiting for another call saying that the little freak bit her again.

i love animals but this cat has a screw loose- she always has. my father could handle her but even he was leery of her at times.

she's 13 and i just wish she'd go to sleep and not wake up. i don't want to upset my mother. her heart is bad and she loves that nutcase!

THIS song brings me right back to high school!
the song was written by dylan.

too cool- i love silent horror films!
lest you think NO ONE would believe that obama would put a health care plan into effect that KILLS old people-
i had a friend and his girlfriend tell me that they heard it on FOX and FOX tells the truth!

please, watch this:

i had to. i usually don't (hitler)but i had to! ; )

my sister's new car. 68 triumph spitfire.

cool, huh?

unless you are a bukowski fan, you may want to strangle the man.
if you ARE a fan, you may just want to smack him.

but, since he's dead...
it has been raining all night and now it is just coming down in grey sheets of water!

phooey. max is wet and so am i!

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

night nite

by Khalil Gibran

Then Almitra spoke, saying, "We would ask now of Death."

And he said:

You would know the secret of death.

But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?

The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.

If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.

For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.

In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;

And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.

Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.

Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.

Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?

Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?

And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.

And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.

And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

a little donation to any NF org. would be a nice thing.

Neurofibromatosis, Type 1

Author: Beth A Pletcher, MD, Associate Professor, Co-Director of The Neurofibromatosis Center of New Jersey, Department of Pediatrics, University of Medicine and Dentistry of New Jersey

Neurofibromatosis (NF) is a multisystem genetic disorder that commonly is associated with cutaneous, neurologic, and orthopedic manifestations. It is the most frequent of the so-called hamartoses.

NF type 1 (NF1) is differentiated from central NF or NF type 2 in which patients demonstrate a relative paucity of cutaneous findings but have a high incidence of meningiomas and acoustic neuromas (which are frequently bilateral). NF1 has a better prognosis with a lower incidence of CNS tumors than NF2. However, morbidity and mortality rates in NF1 are not negligible. Some of the more severe complications are visual loss secondary to optic nerve gliomas, spinal cord tumors, scoliosis, vascular lesions, and long-bone abnormalities, which sometimes necessitate amputation.

The manifestations of NF1 result from a mutation in or deletion of the NF1 gene. The gene product neurofibromin serves as a tumor suppressor; decreased production of this protein results in the myriad of clinical features.

The estimated incidence of NF1 is 1 in 3000, but the actual frequency may be higher because of less than complete ascertainment of mildly affected individuals. Approximately half of affected individuals represent first cases in the family as a result of a new genetic event or mutation.

Lifetime risks for both benign and malignant tumors are increased in NF1-affected individuals.
Cutaneous or subcutaneous neurofibromas, optic nerve gliomas, dumbbell-shaped spinal cord tumors, and brain tumors represent some of the well-recognized nerve-related neoplasms.
Adolescence for both genders may precipitate the development of subcutaneous and cutaneous neurofibromas. Increase in the size of existing neurofibromas and the appearance of new neurofibromas during pregnancy is a frequent observation in women with NF1.1

Plexiform neurofibromas, generally larger, more diffuse, and locally invasive are seen in more than one fourth of patients with NF12 and can present a surgical or medical management conundrum. The wisdom of watchful waiting versus intervention is often debated, with the recognition that complete resection of a plexiform neurofibroma without residual functional deficits is rarely possible. On the other hand, debulking or partial resection of plexiform neurofibromas may be undertaken for cosmetic purposes or if progressive functional consequences are anticipated.
Gliomas in patients with NF1 tend to be lower grade and have a more favorable prognosis than in patients without NF1, with pilocytic astrocytomas and low-grade astrocytomas (subtype intermediate) being quite common.3 However, diffusely infiltrating astrocytomas are also seen in a subset of patients and need to be managed accordingly.

Malignant peripheral nerve sheath tumors (MPNSTs) and neurosarcomas are not uncommon in adolescents and adults with NF1, with an approximate lifetime risk of 10%. These malignancies frequently arise from large plexiform neurofibromas or extensive peripheral nerve lesions.
More than 1% of patients with NF1 develop an indolent symmetric sensory axonal neuropathy. However, some cases of polyneuropathy occur in association with diffuse nerve root lesions or MPNSTs.

Gastrointestinal stromal tumors, often multiple with a predilection for the proximal small bowel, may be seen in patients with NF1.

Learning disabilities with or without attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) are seen in approximately 40% of NF1-affected individuals. A much smaller percentage experience more significant cognitive difficulties such as mild or moderate mental retardation.

Scoliosis in NF1 is often mild, but a subset of children younger than 10 years develop a more rapidly progressive form of scoliosis that requires aggressive intervention.

Bony abnormalities may be clinically silent, with radiographic evidence of long bone intramedullary fibrosis, cortical thinning, or vertebral dural ectasias often found incidentally.
Sphenoid bone
dysplasia and long-bone bowing or pseudarthrosis are common features of NF1.

In the past, congenital tibial pseudarthrosis led to below-the-knee amputation; however, recent advances in orthopedic management with limb-sparing procedures have decreased the need for such drastic procedures.

Osteoporosis with statistically significant decreases in bone mineral density can be identified in individuals with NF1, perhaps even as early as childhood.4 Whereas a number of metabolic pathways impacting bone metabolism have been implicated in the pathogenesis of bone abnormalities in people with NF, studies in children and teens with NF have provided evidence for increased rates of bone resorption as a likely cause for osteopenia.5

Hypertension in NF1 can be seen at any age, with many adults with NF1 manifesting the usual essential form of hypertension. However, any person with NF1 and high blood pressure must be evaluated carefully for 2 alternative causes of hypertension (see Prognosis).

Pheochromocytomas are not rare in NF1 and can cause severe, fluctuating hypertension.
Vascular stenosis (ie, renal artery stenosis secondary to fibromuscular dysplasia) also may result in hypertension that may not respond well to standard pharmacologic management.

Other vascular lesions, especially in the central nervous system, such as vascular ectasias, stenoses, moyamoya disease, and aneurysms, occur more frequently in patients with NF1.

Short stature is common in NF1; affected individuals are often shorter than their unaffected siblings.

Macrocephaly is common in NF1 and should not cause undo alarm if present in affected infants or young children, unless serial head circumference measurements confirm the rapid crossing of percentiles.

Chiari type 1 malformations are seen with increased frequency in the NF1 population.
Puberty usually occurs at a normal age, but precocious puberty with growth acceleration may occur in a small number of individuals. When precocious puberty is present, the patient must be evaluated for a chiasmal lesion causing disruption of the hypothalamic-pituitary axis.

All races and ethnic backgrounds are affected equally. However, recent evidence indicates that the risk for optic nerve glioma is lower in African Americans than in Caucasians and Hispanics.

Males and females are affected equally with this autosomal dominant condition.
Scoliosis may be especially severe in young girls compared to their male counterparts.

Although the genetic change causing NF1 is present at conception, clinical manifestations may appear slowly over many years.

Diagnosis often is made earlier in children born to an NF1-affected parent; the clinical criteria for diagnosis are fulfilled more easily, and the clinician may be more attuned to this possible diagnostic concern.
If an at-risk individual reaches the age of 10 years without meeting the diagnostic criteria for NF1, he or she is unlikely to be affected.

Clinical diagnosis requires the presence of at least 2 of 7 criteria to confirm the presence of neurofibromatosis, type 1. Many of these signs do not appear until later childhood or adolescence, and thus confirming the diagnosis often is delayed despite a suspicion of NF1. The 7 clinical criteria used to diagnose NF1 are as follows:
Six or more café-au-lait spots or hyperpigmented macules greater than or equal to 5 mm in diameter in children younger than 10 years and to 15 mm in adults
Axillary or inguinal freckles
Two or more typical neurofibromas or one plexiform neurofibroma
Optic nerve glioma
Two or more iris hamartomas (Lisch nodules), often identified only through slit-lamp examination by an ophthalmologist
Sphenoid dysplasia or typical long-bone abnormalities such as pseudarthrosis
First-degree relative (eg, mother, father, sister, brother) with NF1
The earliest clinical finding usually seen in children with NF1 is multiple café-au-lait spots.
These may be present at birth or may appear over time, frequently increasing in size and number throughout childhood (see Image 1).
In adults, café-au-lait spots tend to fade and may be less obvious on clinical examination.
Axillary or inguinal freckles are rarely present at birth, but appear during childhood through adolescence (see Images 2-3).
Subcutaneous or cutaneous neurofibromas are seen rarely in young children but appear over time in older children, adolescents, and adults (see Image 4).
Deep lesions may be detected only through palpation, whereas cutaneous lesions may appear initially as small papules on the trunk, extremities, scalp, or face.
Puberty or pregnancy may be associated with an increased number of neurofibromas as well as more rapid growth of preexisting lesions.
Plexiform neurofibromas are more diffuse growths that can be locally invasive and quite deep; they may be associated with bony erosion and pain (see Image 5).
Plexiform neurofibromas also may be accompanied by overlying hyperpigmentation or hypertrichosis.
Rarely, rapid growth of a neurofibroma may occur and can be suggestive of malignant transformation.
Optic nerve tumors, which may be clinically silent, occur primarily in children younger than 5 years.
Asymmetric, noncorrectable visual loss is the most common presenting symptom, but subtle peripheral field defects, color discrimination difficulties, optic nerve pallor, or proptosis may occur without visual acuity problems.
Some older children and adolescents may present with worsening vision secondary to a slow-growing optic nerve glioma (ONG) and, therefore, monitoring for visual difficulties should continue throughout childhood and adulthood. Adults may have a visually insignificant optic nerve glioma detected incidentally on a head imaging study.

Although Lisch nodules occasionally can be seen with a direct or indirect ophthalmoscope, especially in individuals with light-colored irides, they are usually not readily visible without using a slit lamp (see Image 6).
Choroidal abnormalities with a patchy appearance may also be noted on funduscopic examination using infrared monochromatic light. Retinal corkscrew vascular changes have also been described in some patients with NF1.

Sphenoid bone dysplasia is usually asymptomatic, but occasionally can be associated with herniation through the bony defect. In the occasional patient with a plexiform neurofibroma of the eyelid, ipsilateral sphenoid dysplasia is frequently present.
Congenital pseudarthrosis may be evident at birth, with bowing of the tibia being the most typical presentation

Thinning and angulation of long bones can occur throughout early childhood and adolescence, with prominence of the anterior tibia and progressive deformity.
Less commonly, bowing of the forearm can occur.

Scoliosis with or without kyphosis may become evident in childhood or adolescence.
When found in a child younger than 10 years, it is associated with a much poorer prognosis and is likely to progress rapidly.

Scoliosis detected during adolescence still should be monitored clinically, but is much less likely to require orthopedic intervention.

Blood pressure should be checked during every clinical visit because of the distinct possibility of alternative causes of hypertension in NF1.

Head circumference should be monitored throughout the first 3 years of life, as with any child. Relative macrocephaly should not cause alarm, unless serial measurements suggest rapid growth with crossing of 2 or more percentile lines.

NF1 is an autosomal dominant condition caused by decreased production of the protein neurofibromin, which has a putative tumor suppressor function. Only one NF1 gene need be deleted or mutated to produce the condition.
The NF1 gene has been localized to the long arm of chromosome 17; more than 250 mutations leading to protein truncation having been identified in affected individuals. A more severe phenotype has been observed in a subset of patients with a complete gene deletion.

The precise role of neurofibromin is not fully understood, but the multitude of clinical effects suggests that this gene product has diverse functions in various tissues.
nbc made youtube take it down but it's on here via nbc

yes-it's x-rated but it's funny and a catchy tune-thanks linda!

Daniel Patrick Boyd Arrested

Daniel Patrick Boyd Arrested

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in sort of a bad mood this morning. spent about 3 hours last evening at the ER with my mom. her cat flipped out and bit the hell out of her leg.

we sat there til she started bleeding thru the wrapping the emts had put on it, all over the wheel chair.

then they took her in, cleaned the punctures, dressed the leg and sent her home with antibiotics. she's 90 with a bad heart. her blood pressure(usually very low) was thru the roof for quite awhile.

that cat is a nasty old thing and it's the same one that put my sister in the hospital for 3 days a few years ago because even tho she saw the doctor right away-she ended up on iv antibiotics.

mom says the cat is "sorry" that cat's going very soon. we just don't want to get mom too worked up.

from eric!

Monday, July 27, 2009

The women who clear Sudan's minefields

By Peter Martell
BBC News, Bungu

Jamba Besta had planned to be a secretary, hoping to find work in an office as her homeland of South Sudan emerged out of a 22-year long civil war.

Instead, the pregnant mother heads an all-female team of de-miners, removing dangerous explosives from former battlefields.

"I never thought I would be doing this," says Ms Besta, welcoming her six-woman team back from the danger zone they are clearing.

“ Many people have died or had their legs shot off because of a mine ”
Tabu Monica Festo Mine clearer
"But it shows those people who think that women can't do jobs like this that they are wrong."

The team's members say they work better as an all-women team - supporting each other against often critical comments that de-mining is work only for a man.

"We live and work away from home all as one team, so it is good we are all women together," she says.

Sudan's north-south war - fought over ideology, religion, ethnicity and oil - ended more than four years ago.

Some two million people died in the war, and its bitter legacy of landmines and unexploded ordnance continues to kill and wound.

Warning signs

In Bungu, where Jama and her Sudanese team working for Norwegian People's Aid (NPA) are clearing mines, the community want to rebuild a school abandoned during the war.

“ The women do a great job - and we don't have problems of fighting or drinking ”
Kjell Ivar Breili Norwegian People's Aid
The small settlement, some 30 miles from the southern capital Juba, was a northern government outpost on a key rebel supply line from neighbouring Uganda.

Soldiers ringed the outpost with mines against the surrounding southern guerrilla forces, while unexploded ordnance is left from the battles between the two sides.

"It will take a long time to clear," says de-miner Tabu Monica Festo, waving at the waist high grass and tangled bushes.

"We don't know where there may be something hidden."

Only a narrow passage has so far been cleared through the ruins of the old school, a jumbled pile of rocks covered in thick shrubs.

The path is clearly marked with warning sticks tipped with red, to show the rest remains unsafe.

"We have to be very careful to check all the ground is clear," Ms Festo added, resuming her slow sweeping of the ground with a metal detector.

A solid squeaking sound indicates hidden metal - and the risk of a mine or unexploded bomb.

Some were designed to maim people, others to take out an armoured tank.

"It's a job that is important to do - many people have died or had their legs shot off because of a mine," Ms Festo adds.

Painstaking work

Similar all-women teams work elsewhere in the world, including Kosovo and Cambodia.

But Kjell Ivar Breili, NPA's programme manager, says this is the first such team to be used in Sudan.

Mr Breili said NPA's two female teams have recently beaten several of the six male teams in terms of the numbers of mines cleared.

"The women do a great job - and we don't have problems of fighting or drinking," he said.

Each de-miner creeps painstakingly forward down thin alleys, moving the safety line forward only once every section has been checked.

It is tough work in baking sun, and the plastic face-shields they wear inside the minefield mean that it is not possible to drink water during each 45-minute shift.

However, the women must pour water on to the hard-baked soil to soften the earth and allow the gentle probing of suspect objects.

Critics 'are jealous'

One cleared passage stops just short of a tall mango tree, whose cool shade looks an inviting place to rest.

But the women say such spots are especially risky - booby-trapped simply because they are likely places for people to go.

"The soldiers are believed to have buried mines all around here," said Fazia Annet, dressed in a heavy protective bomb blast jacket.

"But we have to check all the ground of course, because there could be danger anywhere."

Later, in the tent-camp a short distance outside the minefield, the women eat lunch before relaxing for a break in the shade.

One mother plays with their daughter, who is looked after in the camp while the women are at work.

But the team leader, currently assigned to logistical duties during the later stages of her pregnancy and for the following nine months, is clear that women can do the job just as well as men.

"Some say it is dangerous for a woman, but they are jealous because we are doing the same job as the men," said Ms Besta, with a laugh.

"What is dangerous is leaving mines hidden in the ground."

Story from BBC NEWS:

Published: 2009/07/26 23:28:06 GMT


Gen. Barry McCaffrey: Breaking Our Addiction to Prison

Gen. Barry McCaffrey: Breaking Our Addiction to Prison

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Last Night I Dreamed of Chickens

by Jack Prelutsky

Last night I dreamed of chickens,
there were chickens everywhere,
they were standing on my stomach,
they were nesting in my hair,
they were pecking at my pillow,
they were hopping on my head,
they were ruffling up their feathers
as they raced about my bed.

They were on the chairs and tables,
they were on the chandeliers,
they were roosting in the corners,
they were clucking in my ears,
there were chickens, chickens, chickens
for as far as I could see...
when I woke today, I noticed
there were eggs on top of me.

Newest Flag

Tanzania, United Republic of
Visited July 27, 2009

102 countries!!!!!

Yukon Cornelius Succeeds Palin

Yukon Cornelius Succeeds Palin

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hi boag! will she do?
beautiful morning.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

i'm taking my camera with me today, but believe me- i wish i had it with me friday night!

it had started out as a conversation between a few long time friends at the club about shorts and sweatpants with big logos or words printed across the ass-

it ended up with "EXPENSIVE" printed in big letters with a black magic marker across the back of someone's short denim shorts!

the lady in question is a great and fun person and a damn fine nurse.

she posed for me and pudd'n took a picture with redneck's cell phone but he didn't know you had to click on save.

we tried to bring you a little bit o the fun but twas not to be.

(shame, that. she has very long legs. the kind i've always wanted.)

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Army Colonel Tastes 36-Year-Old Cake

Army Colonel Tastes 36-Year-Old Cake

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my friend doug e-mailed me about this hero. his passing shouldn't go unnoticed.

Felony Franks Causing a Red-Hot Controversy in Chicago - Slashfood

Felony Franks Causing a Red-Hot Controversy in Chicago - Slashfood

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does the governor of texas think we are all too stupid to look up records or that just texans are too dumb to know how?

FolkStreams » Sonny Ford, Delta Artist

FolkStreams » Sonny Ford, Delta Artist

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Exit wounds

With the conflict in Afghanistan escalating and the Iraq inquiry pending, poet laureate Carol Ann Duffy commissions war poetry for today

Carol Ann Duffy The Guardian, Saturday 25 July 2009

Poets, from ancient times, have written about war. It is the poet's obligation, wrote Plato, to bear witness. In modern times, the young soldiers of the first world war turned the horrors they endured and witnessed in trench combat - which slaughtered them in their millions - into a vividly new kind of poetry, and most of us, when we think of "war poetry" will find the names of Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon coming first to our lips, with Ivor Gurney, Isaac Rosenberg, Rupert Brooke ... What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? ... There's some corner of a foreign field ... Such lines are part of the English poetry reader's DNA, injected during schooldays like a vaccine.

But other poems - not all by soldiers - also come to mind: Walt Whitman's civil war poems; the poetry of Anna Akhmatova and Osip Mandelstam, written (or memorised) during the Stalinist terrors; Lorca's poems from the Spanish civil war; the poems of the brilliant young Keith Douglas who was killed in the second world war; the poetry of Zbigniew Herbert from eastern Europe and Mahmoud Darwish from the Middle East, and of Seamus Heaney and Michael Longley from Northern Ireland.

British poets in our early 21st century do not go to war, as Keith Douglas did and Edward Thomas before him. They might be poet-journalists like James Fenton, the last foreign correspondent to leave Saigon after it fell to the Viet Cong in 1975, or electrifying anti-war performance poets, like the late Adrian Mitchell, or brilliant retellers of Homer's Trojan wars, like Christopher Logue. War, it seems, makes poets of soldiers and not the other way round. Today, as most of us do, poets largely experience war - wherever it rages - through emails or texts from friends or colleagues in war zones, through radio or newsprint or television, through blogs or tweets or interviews. With the official inquiry into Iraq imminent and the war in Afghanistan returning dead teenagers to the streets of Wootton Bassett, I invited a range of my fellow poets to bear witness, each in their own way, to these matters of war.

In Times of Peace
by John Agard

That finger - index to be exact -
so used to a trigger's warmth
how will it begin to deal with skin
that threatens only to embrace?

Those feet, so at home in heavy boots
and stepping over bodies -
how will they cope with a bubble bath
when foam is all there is for ambush?

And what of hearts in times of peace?
Will war-worn hearts grow sluggish
like Valentine roses wilting
without the adrenalin of a bullet's blood-rush?

When the dust of peace has settled on a nation,
how will human arms handle the death of weapons?
And what of ears, are ears so tuned to sirens
that the closing of wings causes a tremor?

As for eyes, are eyes ready for the soft dance
of a butterfly's bootless invasion?

by Gillian Clarke

to the chant that tranced me thirty years ago
in Samarkand: the call to prayer at dawn;

to that voice again, years and miles from then,
in the blood-red mountains of Afghanistan;

to the secret placing of a double-bomb
at a dark hour in a Helmand street;

to the first foot to tread the viper's head,
the scream that ripped the morning's rising heat;

to the widow's wail as she crouches in the rubble
over a son, a brother torn apart;

to a mother dumb with shock who locks her door
and sits alone, taking the news to heart;

to the soldier's words, "It's World War One out here";
to the rattled air, the growl of the grenade;

to a chanting crowd fisting the foetid air;
to a silent Wiltshire town at a last parade;

to ruin ripening in poppy fields;
to barley burnished in the summer air;

to the sound at dusk, cantata of despair,
the holy call become a howl of prayer.

War on Terror
by Fred D'Aguiar

Lasts for as long as nightmares
paint behind the eyelids

as long as a piece of string
cut from a navel remains buried under a tamarind tree

as long as radar from a whale
sounds like my child crying in her sleep

not long after the eyes wash away
last nights paint

no longer than a piece of string
tied at a navel

shorter than this war in this time under
this government that drowns our children in their sleep

by Amanda Dalton
The National Museum of Iraq, Baghdad

Some time after the looting, the locked gates,
the US tank stood idle in a gallery,

Mushin Hasan, his head bowed
in a room of shattered stone,

after some had come back in blankets,
dustbin bags, the boots of cars,

in pieces - the Bassetki Statue, pulled
from a cesspool, smeared with grease -

and others recovered from Jordan, Italy,
France, US, UK, Peru, eBay,

they re-opened the museum,

missing maybe 3 or 11,000
(depending what you read), missing

the Hatra Heads, the Nimrud Lioness,
and doubting they'll ever get them back,

those bits of the world,
bits of the civilised world, scattered.

• "Untidiness" is how the then secretary of defence, Donald Rumsfeld, described the looting from the Iraq National Museum.

Big Ask
by Carol Ann Duffy
(In memory of Adrian Mitchell)

What was it Sisyphus pushed up the hill?
I wouldn't call it a rock.
Will you solemnly swear on the Bible?
I couldn't swear on a book.
With which piece did you capture the castle?
I shouldn't hazard a rook.

When did the President give you the date?
Nothing to do with Barack!
Were 1200 targets marked on a chart?
Nothing was circled in black.
On what was the prisoner stripped and stretched?
Nothing resembling a rack.

Guantanamo Bay - how many detained?
How many grains in a sack?
Extraordinary Rendition - give me some names.
How many cards in a pack?
Sexing the Dossier - name of the game?
Poker. Gin Rummy. Blackjack.

What's your understanding of 'shock' and 'awe'?
I didn't plan the attack.
Once inside the Mosque, describe what you saw.
I couldn't see through the smoke.
Your estimate of the cost of the War?
I had no brief to keep track.

Where was Saddam when they found him at last?
Maybe holed under a shack.
What happened to him once they'd kicked his ass?
Maybe he swung from the neck.
The WMD ... you found the stash?
Well, maybe not in Iraq.

The Grassington Mandala
by Ian Duhig

The photograph, a monk explains,
shows statues once in Bamiyan;
near here the Pilgrimage of Grace
fought Bluff King Henry's Taliban,

where now enlightened refugees
rebuild their Buddha's house in sand,
a sand once ground from precious stones;
they laugh, now statue-dust's as sound.

The sun and moon attend his throne
surrounded by five jewelled walls;
a foursquare palace circles both
(with, on its roof, white parasols),

then rosaries of thunderbolts,
and rainbow-serpent aureoles;
each high brocaded gate supports
two kneeling deer with dharma wheels.

This Mitrukpa Mandala's power,
to these who travel with belief,
absolves the karma of who kill
or are involved in taking life.

The RAF train overhead -
Jihadists also, up the Dale;
a homeless monk with steady hands:
another serpent bites its tail.

by Matthew Hollis

Rain came rarely to the white wood valley.
In between times, he did what he could,
cut rhubarb and gooseberries, brought flowers
from the hill: camel-thorn in winter, rest-harrow
in summer, rock-rose, barberry, mimosa.
He ground wormwood to settle her fever.
When the trouble was done he would take back the farm,
plant olive and cedar, build her a home.
But she thought mostly of the sea -
the uncommissioned sea -
wild at her, salt strong -
not the starving river, brackish and torn -
a river is never enough.
One of her wishes was to find her own path,
but the lowlands were locked down, the plains undone;
so they climbed, and climbed as one.
And when she could not walk he carried her
and when he could not carry her she walked.
Such as this the days went by, till his strength too was sapped.
He laid his back against the longer rock
and set her head that gently in his lap.
Sleep overtook them on the slope.
He woke to take the sunlight in his eyes
and could not see at first the greater distance,
the strange blue, stain blue light in the distance,
that seemed every bit to move, impossible, surely,
a thin drawn band of sea, somewhere meeting sky.
He raised her head that she might see it done.
But where she was she had already gone.

by Alan Jenkins

... when suddenly out of that lake of blood
And plasma and the seepings of old sores
And indistinct stuff, rotted flesh and mud
And floatings of chemical froth, the spores
From carrion-flowers, the bandages that dressed
Deep-tissue wounds acquired in recent wars,
Moment-of-death evacuations (deliquesced),
The slippery insides of bodies cut in two,
Brain-matter, bits of muscle and the rest -
Three bubble-streams rose up; then from this stew
Appeared, slime-covered, plop plop plop, three heads,
All familiar. Each seemed about to spew
But more muck filled their open mouths, and threads
Of mucus clung and dripped from them as all
Were forced to swallow back those strange sweetbreads.
And so their words came thickly though a wall
Of vile breath and the noises that each made
In struggling to be heard: "I [burp] now call
On our great nation, and the mighty shade
Of Winston ... [awk!] Churchill [blurp] ... I mean, look ..."
"Perhaps you dickheads think" - a fierce tirade
Came now from his confrere - "that this [blurf. Flook!]
War will be some kind - of fucking - picnic -
Though we could just make out a Don! or Dick!
Among his snarls of petulant disdain
He shrieked, futilely fending off a rain
Of liquid shit expelled in passing by
A bony old man with a baggy stain
For underpants, long matted beard, wild eye.
"To satisfy their vanity", my guide said,
A million, two million forsaken had to die.
Now they must squabble in this place instead,
But no lies they repeat will justify
Their crimes, or earn forgiveness from the dead ... "

by Carola Luther

how close how far how deep
what shade what shape what height
these quiet skulls like eggs how old
how wide one hundred thousand
which angle which side
the walls fall slowly as if half asleep
stepping out of clothes what's heard
what's said her stained abaya
from where from when
miles for water what's dug up
who's missing who's quiet
their bed in the crater by the park
what number what cost on the step a baby
his sucking mouth what's named what's lost
on the rubbish mound two girls in black
looking for nylon and Pepsi cans
what's counted what's hidden
what's not documented the boy still searching
for the head of his dog what's shredded
what's kept which contractor who's job
in the city darkness electric switch click
click who's friend who's father which cellar
which jail underground the oil what email
one perfect apricot in the flattened orchard
who's dental record who's record beneath
a new sim-card painkillers ninety nine
prayer beads which faction which cabal
sometimes she tries to get to school
that firm which consortium at the widow's stall
petrol by the cup tissues chewing gum
who's ring who's tongue left by the road
in his mascara khol private clothes
what's stolen what's found
a Sumerian statue from the flipflop man
what's ignored inside there were ants
what's replayed the Sony camcorder
whirring like a watch under her bhurka
that's intact what's standing what story
what rumour sepsis making its yellow flower
which fact which faith just tea and dates
tea and dates and three small onions
my son has gone the teacher's leaving
which airport which building
quiet men meeting

After the Stealth Bomber
by Robert Minhinnick
(Umm Ghada at the Amiriya Bunker)

It is years later now
but time can also run backwards.
Still she squats in candlelight,
Umm Ghada in the caravan,
or in 125 degrees Fahrenheit,
a cockroach ticking on her divan.

At night
they come out of the bunker,
the children, the old people,
but all a fog of flesh.
one body with four hundred souls
is exposed in a photographic flash.
They pick the wedding rings and wisdom teeth
from crematorium ash.

Who was it dreamed a stealth bomber?
Stealth steals.
Think of a smart bomb.
Not so smart.
Where the missiles entered Amiriya
daylight was star-shaped in the sarcophagus,
the concrete blasted back,
all the bodies foaming like phosphorus
in a bunker in Iraq.

The old women
took off their shoes
to welcome the fire that jumped into their mouths.
How quickly the children
found themselves unborn.

Yes, stealth steals.
But still Umm Ghada
guards. Umm Ghada
who goads God
with her grief
and the ghosts she carries,
Umm Ghada my guide
in the charnel house corridors.

What is she but a woman
in desert black.
Yet no desert was ever so black
as the sackcloth that Umm Ghada owns.
Not the Syrian desert's
Bedouin black, its cairns
of cold stones.

• The Amiriya bunker in Baghdad was destroyed by the USAF on 13 February 1991. More than 400 civilians wer killed. Umm Ghada, lost manymembers of her family in the destruction, became a guide at Amiriya, living on the site. I met her there in September 1998. Her whereabouts today are unknown.

by Paul Muldoon

It's getting dark, but not dark enough to see
An exit wound as an exit strategy.

Have I Got Old News For You
by Daljit Nagra

You've been mapping the best mortgage
for our first house in these skint times,
recalling the latest tracker rate
you hint we play it safe
with a five-year fixed.

You're by the telly when Dubya flashes up
twitching a smirk in his cowboy gear,
now safely in the past, yet verged
on a mind-blowing

I'm sorry Love, in the head to head,
my head had gone astray so you were
second best, it's just that I banked
on a dead cert gaffe to raise
us a laugh.

You don't hand me another Bud, but quiz
my smiles at this sniggery ad-lib game
of gags (that won your broken
laughter back then).
I'm thrown

to our courtship years glued to the smoke of Guan-
tanamoww, Eyraaq, and of course Affghanestaan
freed by John Simpson for the Crusades,
way before our daughter
trod the earth.

Of Course If I Can Help in Any Way
by Sean O'Brien

May we begin? Please tell us what you said
Or did, or saw the others do or say
Or see, or write, or somehow intimate.
We're anxious to be clear on all the facts.
... But no. You think it's wiser if instead
You don't do that. You haven't got all day.
How could we grasp the interests of the state,
The angel-subtleties its work exacts?
Are we suggesting you might swerve
From righteousness? Why should we need to know?
Who do we think we're talking to like this
When - okay, look - God's asked you to preserve
His plans from scrutiny? You smile. You go.
Outside your creatures queue to take the piss.

Battle Lines
by Carole Satyamurti

They wear the same boots, the same touching hair-cuts,
they're smiles on the News, digits on print-out,
our brave boys;
names, ranks and numbers, action men
splitting the night with mind-trash noise.

Below them, the lights are the Fourth of July,
the screen shows cursors falling, converging
on other brave men -
abstract enemies with blanks for faces.
The mission's to smash them and smash them again.

Each leader works at poses, inflections:
strong on screen, bluff on the air-waves,
caring friend.
Each of them bathes in his own propaganda;
his currency's lives, and he's plenty to spend.

It's no use praying for some clean ending,
the God of the cross, of the star, of the crescent
is deaf and blind.
The fall-back, an echo of voices from childhood:
Don't cry big boys. Never mind.

St Brides
by Jo Shapcott

There is a tower of the winds as tall
as this one in another city, a steeple
filled with fire by the incendiary raids
of a coalition of the unwilling. Nocturnal
shocks pound the citizens who survive,
blast them out of their beds into the streets,
children bundled under their arms. The gutters flame.
Dust is alight. I was born in a city

to come and go safely through the boroughs,
carrying inside me every morning's news: pictures
of soldiers in places they didn't want
to understand, made to fight for loose change,
for the hell of it, for a can of oil. I live here,
but the smell of print and ashes is in my nose.

It could have been
by Clare Shaw

Ali, son of Abdul. 16 months.
Rocket on house, Sadr City 16.5.2009.

Ali, but for some detail of history,
this day could have been yours.
It could have been you this morning,
stood at the end of your bed,
eyes still shut, arms held up for your mother,
who makes sun and all things possible,
who could, little Ali, be me.

Tony Edward Shiol, 5 years.
Kidnapped, found strangled, Shikan 12.05.2009.

If God had sneezed or been somehow distracted.
If that ray of light had shifted
and you had landed
with that small, metallic thrill of conception
as I walked down Euston Road,

then this could have been your morning.
It could have been me inhaling
your breath straight from sleep,
the smell of hot lake and woodsmoke, could
my tired arm under your neck.

Unnamed baby son of Haider Tariq Sain.
Car bomb, Nawab Street, Baghdad 7.04.2009.

It could have been you
shouting "carry"
at the far top stair of my stairs -

hello stairs
hello breakfast

- your feet in these shoes
which do not contain ants;

Unnamed daughter of Captain Saada Mohammed Ali.
Roadside bomb, Fallujah 20.4.2009.

biting soap
which smells good
but does not taste; watching
the unsteady wonder of bubbles;
throwing water up into the light.

Unnamed child of Haidar, male, aged 4.
Suicide bomber, Baghdad 4.1.2009.

then swimming:
your body held out in my hands;
the pear-shaped
weight of your head
safe away from the pool's sharp side

Sa'adiya Saddam, aged 8, female.
Shot dead by USA forces. Afak, 7/8 Feb, 2009.

It could have been me on that street
with you in my hands
and my hands red and wet
and my face is a shriek
and my voice is a house all on fire

But for geography,
but for biology,
but for the way
things happen,
it could have been

Unnamed female baby of the Abdul-Monim family.
Shot dead, Balal Ruz 22.1.2009.

you falling,
you holding your hand up for kissing.

by Jane Weir

Three days before Armistice Sunday
and poppies had already been placed
on individual war graves. Before you left,
I pinned one onto your lapel, crimped petals,
spasms of paper red, disrupting a blockade
of yellow bias binding around your blazer.

Sellotape bandaged around my hand,
I rounded up as many white cat hairs
as I could, smoothed down your shirt's
upturned collar, steeled the softening
of my face. I wanted to graze my nose
across the tip of your nose, play at
being Eskimos like we did when
you were little. I resisted the impulse
to run my fingers through the gelled
blackthorns of your hair. All my words
flattened, rolled, turned into felt,

slowly melting. I was brave, as I walked
with you, to the front door, threw
it open, the world overflowing
like a treasure chest. A split second
and you were away, intoxicated.
After you'd gone I went into your bedroom,
released a song bird from its cage.
Later a single dove flew from the pear tree,
and this is where it has led me,
skirting the church yard walls, my stomach busy
making tucks, darts, pleats, hat-less, without
a winter coat or reinforcements of scarf, gloves.

On reaching the top of the hill I traced
the inscriptions on the war memorial,
leaned against it like a wishbone.
The dove pulled freely against the sky,
an ornamental stitch. I listened, hoping to hear
your playground voice catching on the wind.
me-got this on facebook and i love the idea.
as a woman with NF (often called elephant man's disease)i have a tender spot in my heart for him.

No Bullies allowed here

Type: Party - Birthday Party
Network: Global

Date: Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Time: 12:00am - 11:00pm

Location: Worldwide


We are having a Birthday Celebration for Joseph Carrey Merick. Please join us in celebrating Joseph Merrick's Birthday by posting something nice on our group here, you could light a candle in his memory, bake a cake or just have a cake in his memory, go out to a specail dinner or anything else you can think of in Honor of his Birthday.

Bush Mulled Using Troops in US Arrests

Bush Mulled Using Troops in US Arrests

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we don't NEED troops in our streets!!!!!
i've GOT to start carrying my camera in my purse!!!

Friday, July 24, 2009

Is This The Stupidest Person Ever? (VIDEO)

Is This The Stupidest Person Ever? (VIDEO)

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me and my little sweetie at st. vic's. damn those overalls are classy! ; )

me and my sister at st. vic's carnival.

Alamo Guilty of Sex Crimes

Alamo Guilty of Sex Crimes

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California issues formal apology for past discrimination against Chinese - Los Angeles Times

California issues formal apology for past discrimination against Chinese - Los Angeles Times

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Best. Wedding Entrance. Ever.

Best. Wedding Entrance. Ever.

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Angry people scare me
I have a history of abuse and I can't handle people yelling

By Cary Tennis

July 24, 2009 | Hi, Cary,

I have any number of things that I could write to you about, but I tend to be pretty introspective, and I know that deep down I know the answers to most of them. This one is a bit different; I'm at a loss and I hope you can help.

Growing up, my sister was a very difficult child. She's a few years younger than me but was always the bully. Due to various issues she was always extremely explosive. She had, and still has, extreme difficulty controlling her emotions and can be very emotionally (and sometimes physically) abusive. I, on the other hand, was quiet and shy and always tried to play the peacemaker in my family. There have been a lot of negative consequences from this, one of which being that I tend to end up in emotionally abusive relationships. That's something I'm dealing with.

What I don't know how to deal with is my absolute terror of anger. Raised voices send me into a panic (literally — although not as extreme as panic attacks, I have a physiological reaction). The thought of someone being angry is a disaster, being angry at me is the end of the world. I just can't stomach it. As a result, I've had a lot of trouble standing up for myself. Slowly, I'm getting to the point where I can assert myself in normal circumstances against people who disagree with me. I am learning that ability, thankfully. My problem is people with quick tempers.

I live with a large group of people, and I work from home, so this puts me in very close orbit to my housemates. Their opinion is, therefore, extremely important to me. My problem is that, as in any group, there are a few alphas floating around. When things don't go their way, they don't just get irritated. They blow up. And unfortunately, in a large group, this can happen relatively frequently. No one has actually screamed at me, but anytime I hear raised voices, I fall apart. I'm convinced it must have something to do with me. And if it actually does have something to do with me, it ruins me until it's resolved.

Everyone else is capable of saying, "They aren't really that mad, that's just their personality, they'll be fine in a bit." I don't seem to be able to do that. Even if the person is being unreasonable, I fall all over myself trying to smooth things over, and I'm not calm until the other person is. This is extremely disruptive to my life, obviously: I can't plan for other people's anger, and I can't seem to weather through it. Afterward, I find that I'm angry because all I did was give in to whatever the upset person said.

It's a ridiculous cycle and I don't know how to get out of it. Is this some kind of PTSD?

Scared Little Girl With Her Hands on Her Ears

Dear Scared Little Girl,

I can't tell you if it's post-traumatic stress disorder, but I can suggest that you find someone trained in the treatment and diagnosis of PTSD who can. I'm not any kind of psychologist. I'm just a writer. But what you say sounds familiar to me. And I, too, have a problem maintaining my composure around angry people.

So what do I do? First off, I try to avoid living with them. So, while I know there may be many reasons you are living with a large group of people, I would suggest that you search for a place to live that is quieter, with roommates who are less explosive. You don't say why you are living in this place, but I assume you have a choice. If it is a jail, a group home or a halfway house, then you may be there out of necessity. Otherwise, you are living with this large group through choice. So that would be my first suggestion: Find a living situation with fewer, less explosive people.

Second, although you really should see a specialist in order to find out if you have PTSD, for your general state of well-being you may find that exercise and meditation will reduce stress. Try to find time, even just five minutes a day, twice a day, to sit quietly and pay attention to your breath. If you can sit somewhere and be peaceful at regular intervals, you may feel calmer over time. That doesn't mean you will cease to have these physiological reactions to angry voices. But the reactions they trigger may lessen. And perhaps your baseline anxiety will improve.

Third, if you can't move out of your place and you can't control the other people in it, find ways to shut out the environment while you are working. Wear headphones while working, and listen to your favorite music. Find the quietest spot in the house and work there. Try working outdoors for some of the day. Take breaks while you work to meditate.

Fourth, try to learn to remain calm when people are yelling. This is not easy. Like you, I tend to freak out when people yell. But I have found that simply holding my place and observing, out loud, what I see, can sometimes help. I mean, it won't necessarily stop an angry person. But if we weren't affected by the shouting, we wouldn't really care what they were doing. So it's not so much that we want them to stop. We just don't want to be affected by it.

If we were bullied as children, we may have learned that there's no defense against a bully. And it is this awful, paralyzing fear that is so uncomfortable. So we find things we can do to remind ourselves that we are not children and we are not in danger. We can speak, as adults, about what we see. We can define our own reactions. For instance, you can just say, "I see that you're yelling," or, "You seem to be angry." I know it sounds obvious. But stating the obvious is useful. It's useful to the nervous system.

You don't have to say, "Stop yelling," or "Why are you yelling?" To say such things invites conflict. Just try observing and reporting. You might say, "You're yelling and it's making me upset," or just "You seem really, really angry." And leave it at that. Just watch what happens.

You might fear that a person will strike out at you if you say something like that, and it's possible. But unless you are in physical danger, it may be worth doing anyway. If the person turns to you and starts yelling at you, you can say, "Now you are yelling at me." If the person asks you if you have a problem with it, you can say no, it's fine to yell, or you can say yes, it makes me uneasy, or it makes me afraid. You don't need to ask why the person is angry with you. Sometimes just reporting on what you see can have a marvelous effect. The person may say, "Yes, I'm angry at you because you just sit there and act all superior!" or the person may say, "No, I'm not angry at you at all. I'm just pissed off about the way things are going." Sometimes people who yell just want to be heard. In a large group with several dominant personalities, some of the yelling may be an attempt to be heard.

There's no way to tell what's really going on. And it is often a mistake to presume to understand the angry person, or to try to win an argument. But just speaking a few simple words, and breaking through your awful panicked silence, may help you retain your balance and composure.

Meanwhile, try to find a psychologist with experience diagnosing and treating PTSD. There is a lot that can be done.

I hope that helps.

Sarah Palin's Poll Numbers Tumble -- Politics Daily

Sarah Palin's Poll Numbers Tumble -- Politics Daily

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"There is more hunger for love and appreciation in the world today than for bread." ~Mother Teresa
The worst nuclear accident in U.S. history: July 16, 1979, Navajo Reservation

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bet you didn't know!
grey-damp-foggy and where the heck is summer??!!
today's jokes- hiya boag!

How do you make milk shake?
Give it a good scare!

Do you know the time?
No, we haven't met yet!

What lies at the bottom of the sea and shivers?
A nervous wreck!

What soldiers smell of salt and pepper?
Seasoned troopers!

Did you hear about the man who had BO on one side only?
He bought Right Guard, but couldn't find any Left Guard!

What has two humps and is found at the North Pole?
A lost camel!

Thursday, July 23, 2009

took a hot bath just to try to feel less sticky from the humidity. looks like rain again.
go blue gal!

it is soooooo damp and sticky outside and in here.

i hates it i does!

Brenda Joyce, Jane to Two Tarzans, Dies

Brenda Joyce, Jane to Two Tarzans, Dies

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tonight's dinner:

a few boneless pork ribs ,cooked slow in liquid smoke and some coffee.
then added sliced onions, diced tomatoes, cannellini beans and green beans.
thanks spork:

The Daily Show With Jon StewartMon - Thurs 11p / 10c
The Born Identity
Daily Show
Full Episodes
Political HumorJoke of the Day

Bob Cesca: Crazy Wingnut Healthcare Attacks Exposed

Bob Cesca: Crazy Wingnut Healthcare Attacks Exposed

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as my friend cr said, "frigg'n awesome sherry" Born in the U.S.A.

alrighty, all you "birthers" get a grip. face your real problem, yep, get over it- he's black.

and he was BORN here.

you make yourselves look foolish at best/ugly at worst!

Bush and Cheney\'s Final Days

Bush and Cheney\'s Final Days
Don't forget the two new editions of the Poetry Kits Magazines that are up on
the Poetry Kit site.

A new edition of Transparent Words is now online edited by Lesley Burt

A new edition of Poetry Kit Magazine is available at

Pam's House Blend:: Evening open thread -- Values Voter Summit's Rogues Gallery

all looney/all of the time!

Pam's House Blend:: Evening open thread -- Values Voter Summit's Rogues Gallery

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Wednesday, July 22, 2009

it is a joy to listen to a president that is intelligent!
what a phony fuck rudy is!

Ex-Fox Producer Aaron Bruns Child Porn

Ex-Fox Producer Aaron Bruns Child Porn

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Lewis Black on Republican “Socialized Medicine!” Hysteria

Lewis Black on Republican “Socialized Medicine!” Hysteria

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i THINK i saw a weasel today.

i looked it up on my computer and we do have weasels in western pa.
never heard of any round here but then, when i was a kid we never had the types of critters around and in such numbers as we do now, so???

"C Street" Cabal of Anti-Democracy Fundamentalist Senators and Reps Wouldn't Turn Over Child Rapist Among Them to Police?

"C Street" Cabal of Anti-Democracy Fundamentalist Senators and Reps Wouldn't Turn Over Child Rapist Among Them to Police?

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time for some sing along fun!!!!

Blue Gal

Blue Gal

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Airman Loses Legs in Gallbladder Surgery

Airman Loses Legs in Gallbladder Surgery

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'Orphan' Angers Adoptive Parents - ParentDish

the way they are marketing this is pissing me off- i admit that. it really is!

'Orphan' Angers Adoptive Parents - ParentDish

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The Cat And The Moon

by William Butler Yeats

The cat went here and there
And the moon spun round like a top,
And the nearest kin of the moon,
The creeping cat, looked up.
Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
For, wander and wail as he would,
The pure cold light in the sky
Troubled his animal blood.
Minnaloushe runs in the grass
Lifting his delicate feet.
Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?
When two close kindred meet.
What better than call a dance?
Maybe the moon may learn,
Tired of that courtly fashion,
A new dance turn.
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
From moonlit place to place,
The sacred moon overhead
Has taken a new phase.
Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils
Will pass from change to change,
And that from round to crescent,
From crescent to round they range?
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
Alone, important and wise,
And lifts to the changing moon
His changing eyes.
i was up early- out making my stones for a friend. had to get them in the forms before the rain comes this afternoon. i hope i don't forget to go down and finish with the words before they get too hard but right now they are too soft.

nothing much else going on. have a dental appt. for my mom at the end of the week. she is getting her few remaining bottom teeth fixed-cavities!

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Palin's Resignation: The Edited Version:

Palin's Resignation: The Edited Version:

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i feel bad. my friend gerri-lee had to have her old cat, peetree put to sleep.
pudd'n called to tell me. he said she's really upset. gerri-lee loves her pets so much. i'm glad she has shivers and yogi to keep he occupied.

it's hard.

"Inside every older person is a younger person wondering what the fuck happened."

Joseph Romm: The Audacity of Nope: The GOP Channels Groucho Marx: "Whatever It Is, I'm Against It"

Joseph Romm: The Audacity of Nope: The GOP Channels Groucho Marx: "Whatever It Is, I'm Against It"

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Henry Louis Gates Arrested


Henry Louis Gates Arrested

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