I’m heading down to Cafe Marika and hanging out there until 11 a.m. when I’ll walk down the block to help set-up for Bloggapalooza 2.0. I’m bringing a goody bag from Have Coffee Will Write for the raffle and if I get enought adult beverages into me, I might even make a total fool of myself dancing. That alone could be worth the $5 donation.
Part of being a good citizen of the blogosphere is visiting, reading and, most importantly, taking the time to leave a comment on other’s blogs. It’s all about the conversation. In the interest of setting an example I’ve decided to link to those blog posts that have compelled me to leave a comment.
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It Ãs the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
From Spring and Fall by Gerard Manley Hopkins.
I could never bring myself to forward all the email jokes, cartoons and other Internet comedy that land in my inbox. But then I started posting the ones my dad sends me. Judging from my comments and emails, my dad has become one of my greatest blogging assets. So for your morning brain workout I present: From My Dad.
Name 50 states in 10 minutes or less.
I got the first 48 with 6:56 seconds left on the clock. I didn’t get the last two — Nevada and Okalahoma — until 3:54.
My name is Jeff Hess and I’m a biblioholic. I own hundreds of books. Not valuable books, mostly Science Fiction paperbacks and text books, tomes rescued by the bag from library book sales. A few years ago, in the interest of not burying myself, I began reading more books from the library and taking notes. My electronic chapbook was born.
This is a passage I copied from The 9/11 Report: A Graphic Adaptation by Sid Jacobson and Ernie Colon.
One year ago tomorrow Naveed Haq entered the Jewish Community Federation building in Seattle. He shot six workers there; murdering Pamela Waechter and injuring Layla Bush, Carol Goldman, Dayna Klein, Christina Rexroad and Cheryl Stumbo. If your heart so moves you this shabbat to remember those still healing you might say:
Mi Sheberakh
Avoteinu: Avraham, Yitzhak, v’Yaakov,
v’Imoteinu: Sarah, Rivka, Rachel v’Leah,
Hu yivarekh virapei
et haholah Layla, Carol, Dayna Christina and Cheryl batim Sarah
HaKadosh Barukh Hu
yimalei rahamim aleha,
l’hahlimah,
u-l’rap’otah,
l’hazikah,
u-l’hay-otah.
lah bim-hera
r’fuah shlemah,
r’fu-at hanefesh u-r’fu-at hagoof,
b’tokh sh’ar holei Yisrael v”holei yoshvei tevel,
hashta ba’agalah u-vizman kariv,
v’no-mar, Amen!
I’m constantly tossing interesting websites into what I call my blogpile. Some of them find their way here in the form of regular posts, but more often than not they languish and get buried deeper in the pile. The end result is that I have to go back and do a bit of shoveling. Today’s item is 10 diet hacks to keep you slim & trim.
There are plenty of people echoing Jonathan Mayhew’s No taxation without representation this morning, but that’s not the problem in Cuyahoga County. We have representatives.. No. The problem is that two of the three — Jimmy Dimora and Tim Hagan — have chosen to represent their wealthy masters above everyone else.
After yesterday’s perfectly legal 1-2 vote by the commissioners to raise the sales tax 1/4 cent per dollar there is a move to repeal the tax via a ballot initiative. This is a move that I fully support.
But I don’t think it’s enough. The downtown money interests in Cleveland have wanted handouts to support their bad business decisions for years. They will not stop as long as they have their own puppet politicians in place to keep throwing mud at the wall in hope that something eventually sticks.
They honestly believe that eventually they will wear the opposition down.
I hope that one of the things talked about at a organizing meeting scehduled for noon at the Full-Circle Restaurant, 1519 Lakeview Road, will be looking beyond the ballot initiative which is only a symptom of bad governance and failed vision.
I really hope they talk about throwing the bums out.
I really hope they talk about ways to remove both Hagan and Dimora; sooner than later.
I could never bring myself to forward all the email jokes, cartoons and other Internet comedy that land in my inbox. But then I started posting the ones my dad sends me. Judging from my comments and emails, my dad has become one of my greatest blogging assets. So for your morning blog chuckle I present: From My Dad.
How old is Grandpa?
Stay with this — the answer is at the end. It will blow you away.
One evening a grandson was talking to his grandfather about current events. The grandson asked his grandfather what he thought about the shootings at schools, the computer age, and just things in general.
The Grandfather replied, “Well, let me think a minute, I was born before: television, penicillin, polio shots, frozen foods, Xerox, contact lenses, Frisbees and the pill.
There were no: credit cards, laser beams or ball-point pens.
Man had not invented: pantyhose, air conditioners, dishwashers, clothes dryers and the clothes were hung out to dry in the fresh air and man hadn’t yet walked on the moon.
Until I was 25, I called every man older than me, “Sir”. And after I turned 25, I still called policemen and every man with a title, “Sir.”
We were before gay-rights, computer-dating, dual careers, daycare centers and group therapy.
Our lives were governed by the Ten Commandments, good judgment, and common sense.
We were taught to know the difference between right and wrong and to stand up and take responsibility for our actions.
Serving your country was a privilege; living in this country was a bigger privilege.
We thought fast food was what people ate during Lent.
Having a meaningful relationship meant getting along with your cousins.
Draft dodgers were people who closed their front doors when the evening breeze started.
Time-sharing meant time the family spent together in the evenings and weekends — not purchasing condominiums.
We never heard of FM radios, tape decks, CDs, electric typewriters, yogurt or guys wearing earrings.
We listened to the Big Bands, Jack Benny, and the President’s speeches on our radios. And I don’t ever remember any kid blowing his brains out listening to Tommy Dorsey.
If you saw ! anything with ‘Made in Japan’ on it, it was junk.
The term ‘making out’ referred to how you did on your school exam.
Pizza Hut, McDonald’s and instant coffee were unheard of.
We had 5 &1 0-cent stores where you could actually buy things for 5 and 10 cents.
Ice-cream cones, phone calls, rides on a streetcar, and a Pepsi were all a nickel.
And if you didn’t want to splurge, you could spend your nickel on enough stamps to mail 1 letter and 2 postcards.
You could buy a new Chevy Coupe for $600, but who could afford one? Too bad, because gas was 11 cents a gallon.
In my day: grass was mowed, Coke was a cold drink, pot was something your mother cooked in and rock music was your grandmother’s lullaby. Aids were helpers in the Principal’s office, chip meant a piece of wood, hardware was found in a hardware store and software” wasn’t even a word.
And we were the last generation to actually believe that a lady needed a husband to have a baby. No wonder people call us “old and confused” and say there is a generation gap. And how old do you think I am?
I bet you have this old man in mind, you are in for a shock!
Read on to see — pretty scary if you think about it and pretty sad at the same time.
This man would be only 59 years old
And here I am getting ready to celebrate by 52nd birthday in September.
My name is Jeff Hess and I’m a biblioholic. I own hundreds of books. Not valuable books, mostly Science Fiction paperbacks and text books, tomes rescued by the bag from library book sales. A few years ago, in the interest of not burying myself, I began reading more books from the library and taking notes. My electronic chapbook was born.
[Hat tip to Sherry Chandler for this particular find.]
This is a passage I copied from War Is A Force That Gives Us Meaning by Chris Hedges.
But rather than build a new generation of believers, the fundamentalist leaders created a generation of men who were alienated and infected with the hopeless dispair of war and violence. p. 178
I’m constantly tossing interesting websites into what I call my blogpile. Some of them find their way here in the form of regular posts, but more often than not they languish and get buried deeper in the pile. The end result is that I have to go back and do a bit of shoveling. Today’s item is Categories of Bad Passwords.
Part of being a good citizen of the blogosphere is visiting, reading and, most importantly, taking the time to leave a comment on other’s blogs. It’s all about the conversation. In the interest of setting an example I’ve decided to link to those blog posts that have compelled me to leave a comment.
1250 Reporting on religion
1003 Remains-of-day-7-25-07
Jung thought Freud was too obsessed with sex, and Freud thought Jung was too obsessed with God. The Writer’s Almanac
I could never bring myself to forward all the email jokes, cartoons and other Internet comedy that land in my inbox. But then I started posting the ones my dad sends me. Judging from my comments and emails, my dad has become one of my greatest blogging assets. So for your morning blog chuckle I present: From My Dad.
Joe Smith started the day early having set his alarm clock (made in Japan) for 6 a.m. While his coffeepot (made in China perking, he shaved with his electric razor (made in Hong Kong).
He put on a dress shirt (made in Sri Lanka ), designer jeans (made in Singapore) and tennis shoes (made in Korea). After cooking his breakfast in his new electric skillet (made in Inida ) he sat down with his calculator ( made in Mexico) to see how much he could spend today.
After setting his watch (made in Taiwan) to the radio (made in India) he got in his car ( made in Germany) filled it with gas from Saudi Arabia and continued his search for a good paying American job. At the end of yet another discouraging and fruitless day checking his Computer (made in Malaysia ), Joe decided to relax for a while.
He put on his sandals (made in Brazil) poured himself a glass of wine (made in France) and turned on his TV (made in Iindonesia), and then wondered why he can’t find a good paying job in America
Hmmm… could it be because so many people insist on shopping at Wal-Mart?
Each task had been a nagging distraction,
An itch in the mind, a dangling thread;
Knocking a tiny brass brad on the head,
I felt an insane sense of satisfaction.
Then I heard a great crash in the yard.
The maple had fallen and smashed our car.
From Handyman by Barton Sutter.
My name is Jeff Hess and I’m a biblioholic. I own hundreds of books. Not valuable books, mostly Science Fiction paperbacks and text books, tomes rescued by the bag from library book sales. A few years ago, in the interest of not burying myself, I began reading more books from the library and taking notes. My electronic chapbook was born.
[Hat tip to Sherry Chandler for this particular find.]
This is a passage I copied from War Is A Force That Gives Us Meaning by Chris Hedges.
“But there are many of the living who have had burned into their brains forever the unnatural sight of cold dead men scattered over the hillsides and in the ditches along the high rows of hedge throughout the world.
“Dead men by mass production – in one country after another – month after month, year after year. Dead men in winter and dead men in summer.
“Dead men in such familiar promiscuity that they become monotonous.
“Dead men in such monstrous infinity that you come almost to hate them. These are the things that you at homeneed not even try to understand. To you at home they are columns of figures, or he is a near one who went away and just didn”t come back. You didn”t see him lying so grotesque and pasty beside the gravel road in France.
“We saw him, saw him by the multiple thousands. That”s the difference.” Ernie Pyle p. 176-7
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