27 November 2006

FROM MY DAD…

0800 by Jeff Hess

November is a light-blogging month for me as I take part in the National Novel Writing Month and pound out 50,000 words in 30 days. During this time I’m relying on a cache of emails from my dad to help fill in the space so that Have Coffee Will Write doesn’t go dark. I’ll be back full-time on Friday, 1 December. B’shalom, Y’all.

It was getting a little crowded in Heaven, so God decided to change the admittance policy. The new law was that in order to get into Heaven, you had to have a really bad day on the day that you died. The policy would go into effect at noon the next day.

So, the next day at 12:01 the first person came to the gates of Heaven. The Angel at the gate, remembering the new policy, promptly asked the man, “Before I let you in, I need you to tell me how your day was going when you died.”

“No problem,” the man said. “I came home to my 25th-floor apartment on my lunch hour and caught my wife having an affair. But her lover was nowhere in sight. I immediately began searching for him. My wife was half naked and yelling at me as I searched the entire apartment.

Just as I was about to give up, I happened to glance out onto the balcony and noticed that there was a man hanging off the edge by his fingertips! The nerve of that guy!

Well, I ran out onto the balcony and stomped on his fingers until he fell to the ground.

But wouldn’t you know it, he landed in some trees and bushes that broke his fall and he didn’t die. This ticked me off even more.

In a rage, I went back inside to get the first heavy thing I could get my hands on to throw at him.

Oddly enough, the first thing I thought of was the refrigerator. I unplugged it, pushed it out onto the balcony, and tipped it over the side. It plummeted 25 stories and crushed him!

The excitement of the moment was so great that I had a heart attack and died almost instantly.”

The Angel sat back and thought a moment. Technically, the guy did have a bad day. It was a crime of passion. So, the Angel announced, “OK, sir. Welcome to the Kingdom of Heaven,” and let him in.

A few seconds later the next guy came up. To the Angel ‘s surprise, it was Donald Trump.

“Mr. Trump, before I can let you in, I need to hear about what your day was like when you died.”

Trump said, “No problem. But you’re not going to believe this. I was on the balcony of my 26th floor apartment doing my daily exercises. I had been under a lot of pressure so I was really pushing hard to relieve my stress. I guess I got a little carried away, slipped, and accidentally fell over the side!

Luckily, I was able to catch myself by the fingertips on the balcony below mine. But all of a sudden this crazy man comes running out of his apartment, starts cussing, and stomps on my fingers. Well, of course I fell. I hit some trees and bushes at the bottom, which broke my fall, so I didn’t die right away.

As I’m laying there face up on the ground, unable to move and in excruciating pain, I see this guy push his refrigerator of all things off the balcony. It falls the 25 floors and lands on top of me, killing me instantly.”

The Angel is quietly laughing to himself as Trump finishes his story. “I could get used to this new policy,” he thinks to himself. “Very well,” the Angel announces. “Welcome to the Kingdom of Heaven,” and he lets Trump enter.

A few seconds later, Bill Clinton comes up to the gate. The Angel is almost too shocked to speak. Thoughts of assassination and war pour through the Angel’s head. Finally he says, “Mr. President, please tell me what it was like the day you died.”

Clinton says, “OK, picture this… I’m naked, inside a refrigerator!”

27 November 2006

FROM MY CHAPBOOK…

0400 by Jeff Hess

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 A Charlestonian”s Recollections 1846-1913 by Daniel Elliot Huger Smith.

Convention of South Carolina. p. 68

26 November 2006

TIME TO SHOVEL THE BLOGPILE…

1600 by Jeff Hess

Because I’m devoting most of my time in November to the Novel In A Month Challenge, I’ve set up 30 items from my blogpile — items I once thought interesting but never blogged about — for everyone to discuss. Next up is The Literary Guide To The World. Scoop, lever, heave, scoop, lever…

26 November 2006

FROM THE SANDBOX…

1200 by Jeff Hess


From CAPT Doug Traversa: One of the first things that struck me about Afghanistan, besides the stunning levels of poverty I saw everywhere, were the gloriously colorful trucks I saw everywhere. The style of the art reminded me of India, and they had many chains with pendants hanging from the bumpers. I would soon learn that these were called “jingle trucks”. I did…

26 November 2006

FROM MY DAD…

0800 by Jeff Hess

November is a light-blogging month for me as I take part in the National Novel Writing Month and pound out 50,000 words in 30 days. During this time I’m relying on a cache of emails from my dad to help fill in the space so that Have Coffee Will Write doesn’t go dark. I’ll be back full-time on Friday, 1 December. B’shalom, Y’all.

The question of whether Israel is or is not an asset to the United States is one we rarely bother to ask ourselves. Time and again, we see prominent Americans–presidents of the United States at the forefront–emphasizing their special relationship with Israel. In polls of American public opinion, Israel scores very high marks, while sympathy for the Palestinians, never very high, continues to drop. Why should we even ask ourselves whether Israel is an asset or a liability to the United States? Isn’t the answer obvious?

Most supporters of Israel, when pressed to go a bit deeper, will give two prime rationales for why the United States should back Israel. One is a moral obligation to the Jewish people, grounded in the history of Jewish persecution and culminating in the Holocaust. Israel, so this thinking goes, is something the civilized world owes to the Jewish people, having inflicted an unprecedented genocide upon it. This is a potent rationale, but it is not clear why that would make Israel an asset to the United States. If supporting Israel is an obligation, then it could be described as a liability–a burden to be borne. And of course, as time passes, that sense of obligation is bound to diminish.

Keep reading…

26 November 2006

FROM MY CHAPBOOK…

0400 by Jeff Hess

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 A Charlestonian”s Recollections 1846-1913 by Daniel Elliot Huger Smith.

Sassafras beer was a fine drink! This is imitated to-day by a red drink called Hires Root Beer, but the imitation falls short of it. p. 66

25 November 2006

TIME TO SHOVEL THE BLOGPILE…

1600 by Jeff Hess

Because I’m devoting most of my time in November to the Novel In A Month Challenge, I’ve set up 30 items from my blogpile — items I once thought interesting but never blogged about — for everyone to discuss. Next up is Free Movies. Scoop, lever, heave, scoop, lever…

25 November 2006

FROM THE SANDBOX…

1200 by Jeff Hess

From Tadpole: I have been reading reports about a 10-man Virginia National Guard team that has been stood up to keep track of blogs, and that the DoD is going to start looking more carefully at blogs. I’ve noticed a lot of military bloggers seem to be a bit worried. Some have even gone so far as to voluntarily shut down their blogs. This sort of self-censorship scares me….

25 November 2006

FROM MY DAD…

0800 by Jeff Hess


November is a light-blogging month for me as I take part in the National Novel Writing Month and pound out 50,000 words in 30 days. During this time I’m relying on a cache of emails from my dad to help fill in the space so that Have Coffee Will Write doesn’t go dark. I’ll be back full-time on Friday, 1 December. B’shalom, Y’all.

25 November 2006

FROM MY CHAPBOOK…

0400 by Jeff Hess

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 A Charlestonian”s Recollections 1846-1913 by Daniel Elliot Huger Smith.

The fishing fleet that sailed daily out of Charleston in those days deserves mention. The fishermen were most of them free persons of colour and were believed (I think truly so) to have in them a large infusion of Indian blood.

They had followed this occupation from generation to generation, running out in their open boats until out of sight of land. It was really a sight to see them running up in a high breeze to a market.

Many old gentlemen would time their dinner if possible to suit the tide, and the wharf where they landed would be crowded with servants and hucksters, through whom the fish might reach the kitchens.

For only the fish that entered your kitchen alive was worthy the regard of a gourmet. p. 64

24 November 2006

TIME TO SHOVEL THE BLOGPILE…

1600 by Jeff Hess

Because I’m devoting most of my time in November to the Novel In A Month Challenge, I’ve set up 30 items from my blogpile — items I once thought interesting but never blogged about — for everyone to discuss. Next up is Ten Foods For Better Health. Scoop, lever, heave, scoop, lever…

24 November 2006

FROM THE SANDBOX…

1200 by Jeff Hess

From SGT “Roy Batty”: The day after we got hit with our first roadside bomb I slept all day, the deep, dreamless, womblike sleep of the truly exhausted. I woke up about five in the afternoon, blinking at the Tibetan prayer flags hanging off the bottom of the bunk above me, not sure of where I was, and not really wanting to find out. Eventually I decided I would go off in…

24 November 2006

FROM MY DAD…

0800 by Jeff Hess

November is a light-blogging month for me as I take part in the National Novel Writing Month and pound out 50,000 words in 30 days. During this time I’m relying on a cache of emails from my dad to help fill in the space so that Have Coffee Will Write doesn’t go dark. I’ll be back full-time on Friday, 1 December. B’shalom, Y’all.

Imagine you’re at a party…

You’ve been enjoying adult beverages…

You need to make a head call…

You open the door…

And…

24 November 2006

FROM MY CHAPBOOK…

0400 by Jeff Hess

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 A Charlestonian”s Recollections 1846-1913 by Daniel Elliot Huger Smith.

Many negroes, especially the mechanics, were allowed to “work out” or to “hire their own time.” For these the city authorities issued a license, as was and still is done in may occupations.

These were of brass, as indeed the dray-licenses and cart licenses are to-day, and were numbered in sequence, I believe.

A most ridiculous trade is to-day carried on in the curiosity shops, which sell the very ordinary bits of brass as “slave badges” at high prices, the number being supposed, I believe, to represent the slave number on his master”s plantation or in his household, just as a convict is known by his number in a penitentiary. Doubtless many have been dispersed over the North as curiosities of slavery. p. 64

23 November 2006

TIME TO SHOVEL THE BLOGPILE…

1600 by Jeff Hess

Because I’m devoting most of my time in November to the Novel In A Month Challenge, I’ve set up 30 items from my blogpile — items I once thought interesting but never blogged about — for everyone to discuss. Next up is Middle East Geography Remix. Scoop, lever, heave, scoop, lever…

23 November 2006

FROM THE SANDBOX…

1200 by Jeff Hess

From A Nurse: This is the third time I have posted here. The two previous times I wrote about the wounded soldiers and marines and the care I have given them. Now I need to be selfish and write about me, as I have had a rough couple of days. One of my favorite soldiers rolled out of the OR into the recovery room, screaming with anesthesia-induced flashbacks and in pain….

23 November 2006

FROM MY DAD…

0800 by Jeff Hess

November is a light-blogging month for me as I take part in the National Novel Writing Month and pound out 50,000 words in 30 days. During this time I’m relying on a cache of emails from my dad to help fill in the space so that Have Coffee Will Write doesn’t go dark. I’ll be back full-time on Friday, 1 December. B’shalom, Y’all.

This year seems to be the one for dueling stories about the real first Thanksgiving.

First, from the Right:

Each year at this time, school children all over America are taught the official Thanksgiving story, and newspapers, radio, TV, and magazines devote vast amounts of time and space to it. It is all very colorful and fascinating.

It is also very deceiving. This official story is nothing like what really happened. It is a fairy tale, a whitewashed and sanitized collection of half-truths which divert attention away from Thanksgiving’s real meaning.

The official story has the pilgrims boarding the Mayflower, coming to America and establishing the Plymouth colony in the winter of 1620-21. This first winter is hard, and half the colonists die. But the survivors are hard working and tenacious, and they learn new farming techniques from the Indians. The harvest of 1621 is bountiful. The Pilgrims hold a celebration, and give thanks to God. They are grateful for the wonderful new abundant land He has given them.

The official story then has the Pilgrims living more or less happily ever after, each year repeating the first Thanksgiving. Other early colonies also have hard times at first, but they soon prosper and adopt the annual tradition of giving thanks for this prosperous new land called America.

The problem with this official story is that the harvest of 1621 was not bountiful, nor were the colonists hardworking or tenacious. 1621 was a famine year and many of the colonists were lazy thieves.

In his `History of Plymouth Plantation,’ the governor of the colony, William Bradford, reported that the colonists went hungry for years, because they refused to work in the fields. They preferred instead to steal food. He says the colony was riddled with “corruption,” and with “confusion and discontent.” The crops were small because “much was stolen both by night and day, before it became scarce eatable.”

In the harvest feasts of 1621 and 1622, “all had their hungry bellies filled,” but only briefly. The prevailing condition during those years was not the abundance the official story claims, it was famine and death. The first “Thanksgiving” was not so much a celebration as it was the last meal of condemned men.

But in subsequent years something changes. The harvest of 1623 was different. Suddenly, “instead of famine now God gave them plenty,” Bradford wrote, “and the face of things was changed, to the rejoicing of the hearts of many, for which they blessed God.” Thereafter, he wrote, “any general want or famine hath not been amongst them since to this day.” In fact, in 1624, so much food was produced that the colonists were able to begin exporting corn.

What happened?

After the poor harvest of 1622, writes Bradford, “they began to think how they might raise as much corn as they could, and obtain a better crop.” They began to question their form of economic organization.

This had required that “all profits & benefits that are got by trade, working, fishing, or any other means” were to be placed in the common stock of the colony, and that, “all such persons as are of this colony, are to have their meat, drink, apparel, and all provisions out of the common stock.” A person was to put into the common stock all he could, and take out only what he needed.

This “from each according to his ability, to each according to his need” was an early form of socialism, and it is why the Pilgrims were starving. Bradford writes that “young men that are most able and fit for labor and service” complained about being forced to “spend their time and strength to work for other men’s wives and children.” Also, “the strong, or man of parts, had no more in division of victuals and clothes, than he that was weak.” So the young and strong refused to work and the total amount of food produced was never adequate.

To rectify this situation, in 1623 Bradford abolished socialism. He gave each household a parcel of land and told them they could keep what they produced, or trade it away as they saw fit. In other words, he replaced socialism with a free market, and that was the end of famines.

Many early groups of colonists set up socialist states, all with the same terrible results. At Jamestown, established in 1607, out of every shipload of settlers that arrived, less than half would survive their first twelve months in America. Most of the work was being done by only one-fifth of the men, the other four-fifths choosing to be parasites. In the winter of 1609-10, called “The Starving Time,” the population fell from five-hundred to sixty.

Then the Jamestown colony was converted to a free market, and the results were every bit as dramatic as those at Plymouth. In 1614, Colony Secretary Ralph Hamor wrote that after the switch there was “plenty of food, which every man by his own industry may easily and doth procure.” He said that when the socialist system had prevailed, “we reaped not so much corn from the labors of thirty men as three men have done for themselves now.”

Before these free markets were established, the colonists had nothing for which to be thankful. They were in the same situation as Ethiopians are today, and for the same reasons. But after free markets were established, the resulting abundance was so dramatic that the annual Thanksgiving celebrations became common throughout the colonies, and in 1863, Thanksgiving became a national holiday.

Thus the real reason for Thanksgiving, deleted from the official story, is: Socialism does not work; the one and only source of abundance is free markets, and we thank God we live in a country where we can have them!

And then from the Left:

Teacher Bill Morgan walks into his third-grade class wearing a black Pilgrim hat made of construction paper and begins snatching up pencils, backpacks and glue sticks from his pupils. He tells them the items now belong to him because he “discovered” them. The reaction is exactly what Morgan expects: The kids get angry and want their things back.

Morgan is among elementary school teachers who have ditched the traditional Thanksgiving lesson, in which children dress up like Indians and Pilgrims and act out a romanticized version of their first meetings.

He has replaced it with a more realistic look at the complex relationship between Indians and white settlers.

Morgan said he still wants his pupils at Cleveland Elementary School in San Francisco to celebrate Thanksgiving. But “what I am trying to portray is a different point of view.”

Others see Morgan and teachers like him as too extreme.

“I think that is very sad,” said Janice Shaw Crouse, a former college dean and public high school teacher and now a spokeswoman for Concerned Women for America, a conservative organization. “He is teaching his students to hate their country. That is a very distorted view of history, a distorted view of Thanksgiving.”

Even American Indians are divided on how to approach a holiday that some believe symbolizes the start of a hostile takeover of their lands.

Chuck Narcho, a member of the Maricopa and Tohono O’odham tribes who works as a substitute teacher in Los Angeles, said younger children should not be burdened with all the gory details of American history.

“If you are going to teach, you need to keep it positive,” he said. “They can learn about the truths when they grow up. Caring, sharing and giving – that is what was originally intended.”

Adam McMullin, a member of the Seminole tribe of Oklahoma and a spokesman for the National Congress of American Indians, said schoolchildren should get an accurate historical account.

“You can’t just throw an Indian costume on a child,” he said. “That stuff is not taken lightly. That’s where educators need to be very careful.”

Becky Wyatt, a teacher at Kettering Elementary School in Long Beach, decided to alter the costumes for the annual Thanksgiving play a few years ago after local Indians spoke out against students wearing feathers, which are sacred in their culture. Now children wear simple headbands.

“We have many mixed cultures in Long Beach, so we try to be sensitive,” Wyatt said. “What you teach little children is important.”

Laverne Villalobos, a member of the Omaha tribe in Nebraska who now lives in the coastal town of Pacifica near San Francisco, considers Thanksgiving a day of mourning.

She went before the school board last week and asked for a ban on Thanksgiving re-enactments and students dressing up as Indians. She also complained about November’s lunch menu that pictured a caricature of an Indian boy.

The mother of four said the traditional Thanksgiving celebrations in schools instill “a false sense of what really happened before and after the feast. It wasn’t all warm and fuzzy.”

After she complained, it was decided that pupils at her children’s school will not wear Indian costumes this year.

James Loewen, a former history professor at the University of Vermont and author of “Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your High School History Textbook Got Wrong,” said that during the first Thanksgiving, the Wampanoag Indians and the pilgrims had been living in relative peace, even though the tribe suspected the settlers of robbing Indian graves to steal food buried with the dead.

“Relations were strained, but yet the holiday worked. Folks got along. After that, bad things happened,” Loewen said, referring to the bloody warfare that broke out later during the 17th century.

Morgan, a teacher for more than 35 years, said that after conducting his own research, he changed his approach to teaching about Thanksgiving. He tells teachers at his school this is a good way to nurture critical thinking, but he acknowledged not all are receptive: “It’s kind of an uphill struggle.”

Gobble, gobble. Happy Thanksgiving.

23 November 2006

FROM MY CHAPBOOK…

0400 by Jeff Hess

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 A Charlestonian”s Recollections 1846-1913 by Daniel Elliot Huger Smith.

Ananias (Liars) Club. p. 39

22 November 2006

TIME TO SHOVEL THE BLOGPILE…

1600 by Jeff Hess

Because I’m devoting most of my time in November to the Novel In A Month Challenge, I’ve set up 30 items from my blogpile — items I once thought interesting but never blogged about — for everyone to discuss. Next up is Mapping Medieval Townscapes. Scoop, lever, heave, scoop, lever…

22 November 2006

BLAME TERRY…

1512 by Jeff Hess

You are .*	 You are a wildcard.  You are everything to everybody.  You can't make up your mind as to what you want to be.

Via I See Invisible People

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