If I told you
I’m just a little
bit drunk
as I’m writing this
will you think
less of me?
It’s been a long time…
for a lot of things.
Including drinking too much.
I miss the other things
more.
The Brits … Oh My
source: Epoch Times via ZeroHedge
“New UK Internet Policing Law Targets US Online Forums”
Online forums based in the United States that rely on First Amendment protections are getting caught up in internet regulations in the UK, where they now risk being blocked under recent legislation.
Under the OSA (Online Safety Act), sites that allow user interaction, including forums, must have completed an illegal harm risk assessment by March 16 and submitted it to Ofcom by March 31.
All together now …
Dear British Government:
This site has had visitors from the UK …
There’s more to the story of course.
History Rhyming With Itself
“DNC Chair Announces Democrats Are Launching a Shadow Government Called the ‘People’s Cabinet’ to Sabotage Trump’s Agenda“
As I recall, the Democrats did something similar a few generations ago …
I also recall it didn’t end well for them that time.
Might be different this time.
INTENSITY
Sorry about the screaming.
I wrote this 33 years ago for a BBS in Alto Vista CA through a WorldGroup BBS link that our son was running through (2) 56k modems and a phone line in our Cape Coral house.
<I post them as I get them. DT>
IN ANOTHER PLACE, ANOTHER TIME, THESE CONDITIONS MIGHT BE CONSIDERED INTOLERABLE.
BUT HERE IN THE SHROUD OF DARKNESS IT’S PRESENCE REIGNS SUPREME, FOR IT IS…AN ENTITY OF THE NIGHT.
THE MASSIVE BULK, ONE HUNDRED TIMES LARGER THAN IT’S MOST COMMON ADVERSARY, ALONG WITH A NEVER ENDING HUNGER, TO KILL AND DEVOUR, IS PERPETUAL MOTION ON PATROL.
SENSES TUNED TO RAZOR ACCURACY, NOTHING STANDS IN IT’S WAY.
A SMALL CREATURE SHUDDERS IN IT’S BLACK, DAMP RECESS AS THE TELL TALE SIGNS SHOW THAT IMMINENT DANGER IS APPARENT.
PARALYZED WITH FEAR, THE POTENTIAL VICTIM HOLDS IT’S BREATH, BLOOD COURSING THROUGH IT’S ARTERIES AT OVER FOUR HUNDRED BEATS A MINUTE, IT IS TIME TO DIE.
BUT THROUGH MILLIONS OF YEARS OF EVOLUTION THE SMALL CREATURE HAS DEVELOPED IT’S RESOURCES ALSO.
THE PRIMARY REASONS FOR BEING, ARE CONSISTENT THROUGHOUT THE LIFE WEB.
PROCREATE AND IMPROVE.
WITHOUT THESE, NO LIFE CAN BE.
THIS IS HOW IT LIVES.
SELF DEFENSE AND NUTRITIONAL ACQUISITIONS ARE TECHNIQUES DEVELOPED TO SUPPLEMENT THOSE EFFORTS.
STEALTH AND COURAGE, OR BLIND FEAR, TO TAKE A CHANCE AND THE ABSOLUTE NECESSITY TO PERSEVERE, ARE THE TOOLS OF THE SMALL CREATURE.
IT IS STRICTLY DEFENSIVE TO THOSE LARGER THAN ITSELF.
TO THOSE OF THE DIMINUTIVE NATURE, THE OBVERSE IS SIMILARLY TRUE. PREY BECOMES PREDATOR.
THE LAST PAGE IN THE LIFE STORY OF ALL SMALL CREATURES IS SIMILAR.
A FIGHT TO THE END, OR SUCCUMB AS A VICTIM.
IN IT’S FINAL DEATH SPIRAL, ULTIMATELY, IT TOO CAN WIN.
ERRATIC CONVULSING AND FLAILING MAY SOMETIMES INFLICT WOUNDS THAT EVENTUALLY DEFEAT THE ASSAILANT.
AT FIRST, THIS MAY SEEM TO BE A FINAL ACT OF RETALIATION.
MORE THAN LIKELY IT WILL SERVE TO TEACH THE AGGRESSOR TO BE MORE CAREFUL NEXT TIME….IF IT’S WOUNDS ARE NOT FATAL.
Study In Glass
Why I Can’t Be Christian
“Awful Tragedy: 16-Year-Old Track Star Austin Metcalf Fatally Stabbed by Rival Athlete During Championship Meet, Dies in His Twin Brother’s Arms — 17-Year-Old Charged with First-Degree Murder“
Jeff Metcalf, the victim’s father:
“You know what, I already forgive this person,” he added. “Already. God takes care of things. God is going to take care of me. God is going to take care of my family.”
I was raised that a Christian is capable of forgiveness. The father is stronger in faith than I.
I am not capable of nor desire the capability of such forgiveness – God might; I can’t, I won’t even try. But what of the concept of Hell if not for acts such as this?
I would seek … revenge? retribution? vengeance?
Had this been my child, I would act to put this POS at the head of the line for God’s judgement. Or if nothing else, elimination from the gene pool.
I notice later reports have removed the murderer’s picture … but it’s of the culture one has come to expect.
An Enormous Old Shaggy Barked Hickory
There is an enormous old shaggy barked hickory at the bottom of the hill behind my farmhouse. That tree has provided joy and shelter to now four generations of my family and many more generations of squirrels and birds. It stands alone, tall and noble, tough as old Andrew Jackson, enduring long frigid winters and fleeting summers.
Watching it through the seasons each year reveals miracles of nature and lessons of life. In the spring, the hickory stands patiently waiting for just the right warm day. Then the moisture drawn from the earth into its vast root system begins to flow and the sap rises, inch by inch, up its immense trunk along its many branches and into the high broad reaches of its canopy. A marvel of architecture and hydraulics.
Little by little its beautiful leaves appear. They peep out usually in late spring as tiny yellow mouse ears when fear of frost has mostly passed, eventually turning a deep glossy green. The leaves are compound, elegant, consisting of many smaller leaves on one stem alternating in odd pairs with a leaf at the tip.
In years gone by the hickory had two friends nearby. One another tall and graceful hickory and the second a massive white oak. Those two trees lost their lives to lightening from violent summer thunderstorms sweeping across the prairies. Barely missing the barn walls, each fell, one summer and then the next, with a shocking crash and a thud that shook the ground and reverberated across more than an acre. But Andrew Jackson, my old hickory, stayed firm, tall and straight.
In the summer the hickory’s wide branches wave in wind cooling the air around it, the leaves rustle with the breezes and flutter with the wings of myriad birds. The crows love its height. They can watch the red tailed hawks from on high and send out their warnings, shrieking to all who will listen. Ants do their military marches up and down the trunk. Bees and butterflies hum and flitter around the yellow, catkin like flowers as they bloom. Fungi form on rotting fallen branches lying in the surrounding grass. Little marble colored weevils and occasionally stag beetles creep among the fungi.
Foxes stalk the tree’s base in early morning looking for foolish squirrels or careless rabbits. Flocks of wild turkeys gobble peacefully but warily by and deer rest in its shade on hot summer days. The tree is the lynchpin of an ecosystem for creatures large and small, winged and footed, it creates habitats to suit all manner of flora and fauna, including my family.
As summer passes the hickory nuts begin to fall and the leaves turn a deep, dark gold. Squirrels and chipmunks scurry around their cheeks fat with the treasure to be buried, hidden away, for winter sustenance. The nuts they’ve missed get shot around loudly like bullets as I mow the lawn. We take bits of the shaggy bark, soak it and use it to smoke fish and sausage for our winter stores, much like the squirrels.
When the leaves drop as cold weather approaches and the skies go grey, the old hickory reveals its great black bones. A massive skeleton sometimes cloaked with snow or glistening ice, it towers over us casting long shadows in the low sun of the Midwestern winter. That magnificent hickory. It asks so little, just some sun, soil and rain, and time to rest and refresh each winter, and then it gives us so much.
I pray that tree, that loved and venerated old tree, outlives me.
Trees For Jean
Jean made a comment about yesterday’s picture of wide open spaces stating she preferred trees.
Just for you, Jean …
Whenever I Read The News
I think of heading out to places like this.
I Wasn’t Paying Attention To The Time
“The Who frontman Roger Daltrey is going blind and deaf at 81“
Tommy is real … who’d a thought it? But how can Roger Daltry be 81?
81?????
That must mean … no, not really? That must mean I’m not in my 20s!
No wonder the 19yo girls laugh at me … not that that has changed.
