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Posted on 09/30/2008 10:21:35 PM PDT by JustAmy
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Lamh Foistenach Abu!
LOL!!!! jaycee!!! Pinging Dita ‘cause she responded to our thank yous for the thank yous the other day!
Well, Conor, they are all wonderful. I read and enjoyed them! Thank you for posting them.
Are you familiar with We Are Seven (Wordsworth)? It was my favorite in college
We Are Seven
William Wordsworth (1770–1850)
A SIMPLE Child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?
I met a little cottage Girl:
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.
She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad:
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
—Her beauty made me glad.
‘Sisters and brothers, little Maid,
How many may you be?’
‘How many? Seven in all,’ she said,
And wondering looked at me.
‘And where are they? I pray you tell.’
She answered, ‘Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.
‘Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And, in the church-yard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother.’
‘You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven!—I pray you tell,
Sweet Maid, how this may be.’
Then did the little Maid reply,
‘Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the church-yard lie,
Beneath the church-yard tree.’
‘You run above, my little Maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the church-yard laid,
Then ye are only five.’
‘Their graves are green, they may be seen,’
The little Maid replied,
‘Twelve steps or more from my mother’s door,
And they are side by side.
‘My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them.
‘And often after sun-set, Sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.
‘The first that died was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.
‘So in the church-yard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I
‘And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side.’
‘How many are you, then,’ said I,
‘If they two are in heaven?’
Quick was the little Maid’s reply,
‘O Master! we are seven.’
‘But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!’
’Twas throwing words away; for still
The little Maid would have her will,
And said, ‘Nay, we are seven!’
BBL!!
Lovely poems, Conor!
Lamh Foistenach Abu!
Lamh Foistenach Abu!
;o)
Lamh Foistenach Abu!
Subject: Fw: Bar Stool Economics, or, the US Tax System
Here is how the BAR STOOL ECONOMICS, or the US tax system, works folks.
Don’t call me if you don’t understand it!!!
Suppose that every day, ten men go out for beer and the bill for all ten
comes to $100.
If they paid their bill the way we pay our taxes, it would go something
like this:
The first four men (the poorest) would pay nothing.
The fifth would pay $1.
The sixth would pay $3.
The seventh would pay $7.
The eighth would pay $12.
The ninth would pay $18.
The tenth man (the richest) would pay $59.
So, that’s what they decided to do. The ten men drank in the bar every
day and seemed quite happy with the arrangement, until one day, the
owner threw them a curve.
‘Since you are all such good customers, he said, I’m going to reduce the
cost of your daily beer by $20.
Drinks for the ten now cost just $80.
The group still wanted to pay their bill the way we pay our taxes so the
first four men were unaffected. They would still drink for free. But
what about the other six men - the paying customers? How could they
divide the $20 windfall so that everyone would get his ‘fair share?’
They realized that $20 divided by six is $3.33. But if they subtracted
that from everybody’s share, then the fifth man and the sixth man would
each end up being paid to drink his beer. So, the bar owner suggested
that it would be fair to reduce each man’s bill by roughly the same
amount, and he proceeded to work out the amounts each should pay.!
And so:
The fifth man, like the first four, now paid nothing (100% savings).
The sixth now paid $2 instead of $3 (33%savings).
The seventh now pay $5 instead of $7 (28%savings).
The eighth now paid $9 instead of $12 (25% savings).
The ninth now paid $14 instead of $18 (22% savings).
The tenth now paid $49 instead of $59 (16% savings).
Each of the six was better off than before. And the first four continued
to drink for free. But once outside the restaurant, the men began to
compare their savings.
‘I only got a dollar out of the $20, ‘declared the sixth man. He pointed
to the tenth man, ‘but he got $10!’
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ exclaimed the fifth man. ‘I only saved a dollar,
too.
It’s unfair that he got ten times more than I!’
‘That’s true!!’ shouted the seventh man. ‘Why should he get $10 back
when I got only two? The wealthy get all the breaks!’*
‘Wait a minute,’ yelled the first four men in unison. ‘We didn’t get
anything at all. The system exploits the poor!’
The nine men surrounded the tenth and beat him up.
The next night the tenth man didn’t show up for drinks, so the nine sat
down and had beers without him. But when it came time to pay the bill,
they discovered something important. They didn’t have enough money
between all of them for even half of the bill!
And that, boys and girls, journalists and college professors, is how our
tax system works. The people who pay the highest taxes get the most
benefit from a tax reduction. Tax them too much, attack them for being
wealthy, and they just may not show up anymore. In fact, they might
start drinking overseas where the atmosphere is somewhat friendlier.
David R. Kamerschen, Ph.D.
Professor of Economics, University of Georgia
For those who understand, no explanation is needed.
For those who do not understand, no explanation is possible
Lamh Foistenach Abu!
At 107, still a real live wire
The low-watt firehouse bulb has been burning continuously since 1901. It’s generated awe and respect, even among the backers of a Texas rival.
By John M. Glionna May 05, 2008
Five years after his retirement, ex-firefighter Tom Bramell still likes to visit Station No. 6 for old times’ sake, whistling in amazement at all the changes – the strange faces and slick high-tech engines.
But one thing remains exactly the same, and it’s what Bramell misses the most about his firefighting days. The sturdy little object hangs from the ceiling in the firehouse’s engine bay, emitting its familiar faint orange glow.
He calls it the long-lived lightbulb of Livermore.
That’s actually something of an understatement.
At 107 years and counting, the low-watt wonder with the curlicue carbon filament has been named the planet’s longest continuously burning bulb by both Guinness World Records and Ripley’s Believe It Or Not.
As objet d’art and enduring symbol of American reliability and ingenuity, it’s been lauded by senators and presidents.
It boasts a website – www.centennialbulb.org, drawing a million hits a year – a historical society and even a webcam that allows curious fans to check on it 24 hours a day.
The Livermore lightbulb, you see, never gets turned off, which many suspect is the secret to its longevity.
Hanging 18 feet above the floor at the end of a black cloth-covered cord, the little light with the filament the width of a No. 2 pencil is unprotected by any lampshade.Firefighters won’t even dust it. Touch it, jokes one captain, and “you get your fingers chopped off.”
I saw the exchange..LOL!
OH my goodness..That is priceless! Nailed it!
You’re very welcome!
Been doing quite well. Enjoying the beautiful fall weather.
It might rain here tomorrow...Yay! We can use it.
Is is nice weather in your neighborhood, too?
Lamh Foistenach Abu!
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