Admin Mod to Trolls: “Drop Dead”

New York Times ^

[Buck Ninety-Nine]

WASHINGTON, May 31 — After vowing to steer a greater share of antiterrorism money to the highest-risk communities, Department of Homeland Security officials on Wednesday announced 2006 grants that slashed money for New York and Washington 40 percent, while other cities including Omaha and Louisville, Ky., got a surge of new dollars.

Homeland security officials said the grants were a result of a more sophisticated evaluation process

[NicknamedBob]

Oh, crap.

I spent about five minutes or more analyzing that poem, and formulating a reply. I jumped out to grab this quote from Keats, and I lost it all.

"And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;—then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think,
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink."

Anyway, I think Keats had it better. Of course we are mortal, big deal. Learn to appreciate what has been given to you, Hap, instead of railing at Crass Casualty.

Everybody tries to dump on the Insurance Company.

[NicknamedBob]

I'd rather analyze me.

“If you must, then sit beside me....
Tell me, why have I been weeping?” -- Dorothy Parker

Why Have I Been Weeping?

I see the faces in the park, and each one tells a story,
Some bitter from the striving, some faded with their glory.
Some look out on the park and see the life inside them,
And some have hurts upon their face with nowhere else to hide them.

A comely matron passes by, her pride protects her pain,
She doesn’t seem to notice that her smile is showing strain.
A pair of schoolgirls next are seen, and giggle as they pass,
I hope their laughter will grow up when laddy meets his lass.

An old man sits near dozing with the sun upon his face,
I know that in his mind he is no longer near this place.
Instead he walks with hand about the love that he once held,
And now he sits with frozen smile where happiness has gelled.

A woman looks into my eyes, a question seems to rise,
Although her lips say nothing it is clearly in her eyes.
“Oh, stranger, do you know the pain I’m feeling in my heart?
Can you tell why I’ve been weeping? Do you know what made me start?”

I only know the answer to a question still unasked,
For it is the answer always for the way we have been tasked.
The answer is to love someone, though someone brought you pain,
Even though you’re hurting now, you still must love again.

For love is still the answer to the way to get through life,
And it doesn’t matter if you fail, or if you live in strife.
You must share your pain and loneliness, and laugh it all away,
And you’ll find that pain is ebbing as love’s tide flows in today.

Step out of the shadow of the pain that brought you grief,
And hold a child, and see her smile, and you will feel relief.
No matter how you’re hurting, and no matter what you’ve lost,
There’s even more to be received, with negligible cost.

Your life has many turnings, at the end you may look back,
And though you know you lost something, there’s nothing that you lack.
The life that seemed so shattered has been made into a whole,
And your audience applauds you for your stunning, starring role.

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . April 19, 2004

[Lady Jag]

I wonder if illiterate people get the full effect of alphabet soup?'

[Lady Jag]

How could that kill a thread? Okay, okay, it didn't keep people awake.

[Lady Jag]

I'd rather analyze me.

Bob, I wouldn't do that if I were you.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

[NicknamedBob]

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Why not? I'm not afreud.

[Lady Jag]

Do you Pavlov at all?

[Knitting A Conundrum]

LOL!

We all live in the Circus of Dr. Lao (and if you haven't read it, you should.)

We're all waiting for Godot (another ought to read)

We can all have a hissy fit and be drama queens like Oedipus. or we can be like the man in this Zen story.

A man travelling through the woods found a tiger was chasing him. In desparation he jumped over a ledge to get away from the big cat, clinging to the cliffside by a vine.

He looked below to see what was beneath him and there was another tiger, pacing, waiting for him to fall.

Suddenly, two mice came out of the brush and began to gnaw on the vine he was clinging to so desparately. Looking around, he spied a strawberry growing. He plucked it and ate it. How sweet it tasted.

Back years ago, when I was doing a lot of reading in comparative religions, I ran across a line which describes a lot: Hell on the left hand, Heaven on the right, and the Angel of Death behind.

It behooves us to choose well.

[Knitting A Conundrum]

You have wicked graphics, Lady Jag....

[NicknamedBob]

"Do you Pavlov at all? "

No, I think I'm safe from that.

http://picts.idl.com.au/picts/TOONS/LARSON/freud.jpg

[Knitting A Conundrum]

Freud in a slip....(Joyfully skipping along...)

[NicknamedBob]

"Hell on the left hand, Heaven on the right, and the Angel of Death behind."


Two Angels

I have two angels sitting here, conversing through my ears.
One seems to think angelic thoughts, and one enjoys the beers.
So I am torn in listening, to muses on each side.
Which way I go when writing seems to be who’s last to chide.

I might receive a message which is clearly Heaven-sent,
Or I may respond to thoughts which have a lower bent.
I am no angel in my heart, though I do try my best.
I’m just repeating things received to get them off my chest.

And whether they are good or bad seems like the time of day,
My angels work in shifts to tell me if I pray or play.
I may express a thought you know an angel wouldn’t touch,
Or I could state a truth that you agree with very much.

Whichever way it comes to me, I let it turn my ear,
But I don’t always consider well the worth of what I hear.
I give them equal witness, for my soul’s a battleground,
For those who will be judging me, my worth is to be found.

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . . . May 9, 2004
© 2004

[Irish_Thatcherite]

I was talking about 'arse' - 'ass' this side of the Atlantic.

[Lady Jag]

He would sometimes skip in a slip but he woud frequently admire himself in a mirror.

[Lady Jag]

[Irish_Thatcherite]

I'd blame his mother....

;)

[Lady Jag]

Me too. Isn't he the one who named the Oedipus Complex?

He knew all about it!

[Irish_Thatcherite]

I dunno... I think he did.

[Irish_Thatcherite]

...killed the thred....

[NicknamedBob]

Yep.

"It's dead, Jim. I'm a Doctor, not a seamstress!"

Did you hear about the cross-eyed seamstress?

Answer: > She couldn't mend straight.