Tuesday, October 15, 2013

WELCOME TO THE 90 DAY GOVERNING CYCLE

"Mr. and Mrs. America from border to border, from coast to coast and all ships at sea.  Let's go to press."
[Walter Winchell]

It has been determined by the best minds in the entire country that we have all become irretrievably, invincibly, incorrigibly entrenched in our incurable insanity.  We persist in repeating the same governing behavior over and over again hoping that the more we lurch from 90 day period to 90 day period the closer we will come to solving the perennial and persistent problems that beset our existence as a nation and a people.  These problems are well known to us all...Unrest over our immigration laws and our inability or unwillingness to live by them;  our out of control budgetary situtation; our insidious "campaign contribution" bribery system; our rampant and voracious appetite for gathering private information about our citizenry;  our staunch and militant insistence that every citizen should be armed with the most lethal weapon that exists; our contentious and angry conviction that our health care system is the best in the entire world inflamed by our equally vicious attitude that it is not necessary to make it available to every citizen through a single payer arrangement; our overt rigging of the voting districts of our municipalities in order to assure victory in each and every election; our deeply ingrained conviction that we are bigger and better than any other nation in the world, in every conceivable category of human behavior, despite very clear evidence to the contrary.  I dare not continue because there isn't enough time in the next 90 day governing cycle to fix all these behaviors.  Better that we just continue arguing about debt and taxes and let the rest go to hell in a handbasket.
Lest we exercise our index finger overly much by pointing it in the direction of Washington D.C. it might be good for us to name ourselves as participants in this insanity since we are the ones who insist in electing and re-electing the denizens of that enclave over and over again in the hope of changing the outcome. 
Yes, Mr. and Mrs. America, this is global insanity. 







Tuesday, October 8, 2013

YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS, YOU DID WRONG, AND HERE'S WHY

Bring the truth to earthly power

When we celebrate the great apostle James, it is a good time to consider one of the things for which he is famous.  First and foremost, he is remembered as the first official, de facto, leader of the New Community, The Way, as the followers of Jesus were collectively known.  His seat of leadership was atop Mount Zion, the Holy City of Jerusalem.  He is also known for his short but powerful written instruction to the world, The Epistle of James. Finally, and to the point of my present letter he is famous for his teaching about the human tongue.  [James, 3; 1 - 12]  You can imagine that anyone who could have written that must have lived by it first.
When I think of James, I always remember Nathan, the great prophet Nathan,  God's "mouth piece"  bringing judgement down into the ears, heart and soul of the great sinner, saint and  King, David.  Nathan was not afraid of David because Nathan was dedicated to God and God's truth.  Like all God fearing and revering people, Nathan was not afraid to die because he was doing God's work and speaking for God.  He knew that he was right and that the king who had been chosen by God through the service of the Great Patriarch Samuel, knew that he had to listen to God's word coming to him now through the holy prophet Nathan.
We have much to learn from Nathan.  We have much to learn from James.  We also have much to learn from our Weeping Mother, Mary as she appeared to two illiterate children at La Salette in France in 1846, speaking the Naked Truth in stark, real-time terms. The first thing to learn is that closeness to God makes us strong in the truth.
The second thing is that the truth is always produced by God in every age until the end of time.  Jesus used His human tongue to bring the truth home to us.  He showed us that the truth is a sign of contradiction. He showed us that the truth, because it is inexorably from God, is, in fact, a sign of contradiction just as He, Himself and His Father are, and always will be.  Jesus, when His Hour had come, clebrated the truth by testifying to it while standing before the ultimate earthly power, the cruel potentate, Pilate, who, just before handing Jesus over to the Jews and the Roman soldiers asked, "Truth?  What is that?" [John 38, 38]
            Answer:
Closeness to God. The whole truth and nothing but the truth takes away our fear of earthly power.  It doesn't matter what the source of power is, it can never equal the grace of God.  Staying close to the pure, unvarnished truth is therefore a very important virtue for us to practice.  It keeps us close to God, the Pure, Eternal Truth, at every moment.  It is in this actual intimacy that we will find comfort, peace and joy.

We should be aware of this every time we use our tongue to communicate something.  We have some very lofty sacred examples to follow, Nathan, Mary, Jesus, James just to name a few.
Think about it the next time someone asks you "How old did you say you are?"
Don't be afraid to say that you heard it here.  Don't be afraid to refrain from crying at my funeral because I say the truth when I tell you not to do that.


Monday, September 30, 2013

HORSEPOWER -

It has been a long while since I have had the time and the inclination to put more foolishness in writing.  I have to admit that for the last three weeks or more, I have been mentally and physically over-booked.  I have a fairly long list of things that have crossed my mind lately, and to tell you the truth, I have no idea why I chose this topic to break the silence.  It's just one of those things.  Just below this one you will find some deeper considerations about "Secret Thoughts," but this is bound to be more fun.
When I was younger, some 65 years younger, I remember asking EFR Dion the question that is the topic for today:  'What is horsepower?"  He looked at me and said, without missing a beat, "It is the strength that it takes one horse to lift 16 tons in one minute."  Well, I have lived all these years with the conviction that I knew exactly what horsepower is.  I have no clue of how to translate it into torque, or watts, or speed, or heat, or BTU's or calories, or any of that other fancy stuff, but I still remember my father's sure and solid answer.  Despite the fact that he was one half ton off the mark, as you can readily see, it was good enough to last all these years.  It would still be good enough except that I found the half-ton short-fall when I betrayed my conscience and second guessed Ol' EFR by going to Mr. Google in search of a horse.
A couple days ago, amid my clogged schedule, this idea came to me like a hair on soup.  The strange thing is that it would not go away.  So often, I get waves of inspiration like this and despite my best efforts, I forget what the inspiration was about. If I had a better memory or a faster pencil, I would have scribbled a lot more things than actually have found the light of day as a result of coursing through my brain.  This one though, kept pinging on the inside wall of my coconut, relentlessly.
The other thing that got me to smiling was how useless it was that I should have this fact tucked away on the dark, dank corners of my mind and neither one of my sons has ever asked me the question.  In this world of ours, where nanoseconds, picofareds, megapixels, kilobytes and terabytes, keyboards and quartz screens, smartphones and WIFI's, I'm practically dead certain that neither my sons nor anyone else will ever deem it necessary to ask me what horsepower is.  Horses don't move anything other that themselves these days, for which I am sure that they are quite happy.  So, boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen and everyone else, that's the thought for today.  If I'm lucky, the Good Lord will slip me another one tomorrow.


SECRET THOUGHTS

I was listening to an interesting interview earlier while driving back from visiting family in another city. It was on NPRI, National Public Radio International.  It was originating in Canada because, I suppose, it being a holiday (Labor Day) in the USA, the out of country divisions were providing the on-air presence.  This was about the ever more deeply encroaching surveillance being foisted on the people of the USA. I don't remember the names of the main interlocutors but one question, among many provocative ones struck me. It was, "What do you say to those who postulate, "If you have nothing to hide, there is nothing to fear.'?"
The answer from the expert being interviewed was swift and sure: "Everyone has something to hide."
My internal, personal reaction was, "I do."
I haven't murdered anyone, raped anyone, robbed any banks or some such things, but if the snoops want something, they can find it in my public life.  It doesn't even matter whether or not it is morally correct.  Snoops can make up all kinds of stories once they have enough information about you.  Since I have confessed that I have something to hide, let me show you where a serious snoop could start, even before I even had a presence on the Internet and a Smart Phone.
I never attended a public school.  I never spoke less than two languages.  I was never drafted into the military.  I was exempted by the nature of my continuing education.  During the time when I could have been drafted, my continuing education took me to Europe.  To Italy where the Communist party was still very strong.  When my continuing education was finished I went to "work" in the Philippines where I stayed for 11 years.  During my time there I lived in the section where the anti Marcos insurgency was fairly strong.  A colleague of mine spent five years in prison for rebelling against the government.
I came back to the United States and when I went to work in secular industry, I did not work for a purely American corporation for many years.
I could go on and on. Now, some nasty snoop could, I suppose, make hay by the fact that I have a fairly constant presence on the Internet and have voluminous writings open and available to the world to ruminate.  It should be clear to you by now, that over these 50+ years of of non-typical existence, there's gotta be something that I should worry about.  Maybe there is, but at 76 years young, I don't give a damn.  But you do get my point, I am sure.
It is the same point that the expert made during the interview.  We have all been to the doctor, many of us have consulted lawyers, or worked for a corporation where our responsibilities put us in positions of having to work with lawyers on a fairly regular basis. Many of us have worked overseas, many of us have picketed our employer's facilities, many of us camp outside of abortion clinics and pray and intervene with the entry of prospective patients, many of us send emails that are not kind to the leaders of the government, and the beat goes on.  The man was making the point that it is not just public speech that is being watched, it is our private expression of personal opinion that is also being monitored. In the end, therefore, says the man, we all have something to hide, we often times don't know what it is.
Over all, I was fascinated by the fellow's point of view.  It was all the more interesting because he is the owner of a company that makes products that prevent the government from snooping on the exchange of messages between two people by using these products. The product has the name "Silent..." I can't remember the whole thing.  I do remember that it is expensive, of course!
So, there you are.  A little sample of the stuff that you can hear while your spouse is sleeping in the passenger's seat on the way home from a holiday in sunny San Diego.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

USA EXCEPTIONALISM? YOU BET -- NOT!


Exceptionally high prescription drug prices, the highest in the world, even higher than the many developed countries who have single payer health care systems.
Exceptionally high infant mortality rate, the highest among wealthy nations.
Exceptionally well educated graduates who can’t read cursive handwriting
Exceptionally high private gun ownership…the highest in the world
Exceptionally proud to be the number one nation in the world in the number of gun related homicides
Exceptionally violent…more than anywhere else in the world
Exceptionally inclined to mass murder, much more than anywhere else
Exceptional by the fact that the USA has more crime by far than any other country
Exceptional by the fact that the USA has more people incarcerated than any other country
Exceptionally proud that our life expectancy at birth is a resounding 49th place on the charts of the world
Exceptionally obese.  Number one in the world, in fact.
Exceptionally poor public mass transit infrastructure
Exceptionally driven to meddle into the affairs of others, at home and abroad
Exceptionally weak Commander in Chief who always consults the “Generals” rather than commanding them
Exceptionally weak Head of State who seems to fear to dare the opposition to cause senseless havoc

There has been a lot in the news lately about the use of chemical weapons by the Syrian government to kill some of its citizens.  That is certainly not a very nice picture.  There is also another ugly picture to contemplate right here in the USA.  We also have a government that wages chemical warfare.  We don’t get gassed, we just die because we can’t afford the chemicals we need to survive.  I’m a lucky one.  The prescription I can’t afford is not a cure or a control for a terminal condition…painful, but not terminal.  So, I do without.  But there are people who choose to die because they cannot afford the astronomical prices of some of the “miracle” drugs that are for sale, all the while being unavailable because of price. 

There is also another crime that kills our fellow citizens in this country and that this the legalized bribery practiced between politicians and special interests.  If politicians had a moral compass they would stop taking the standard “campaign contribution” and “lobbyist” bribes and start to protect the citizens of the country with common sense health care and gun control laws.  The canard of the second amendment is just that, canard.  There is nothing in the second amendment that says that the government doesn’t have the right to protect innocent citizens of the country. 

Yes, the USA is Exceptional.  It has constructed the best legalized bribery system known to humans on this planet or any other one where humans may exist.  The immorality of this ingenious system has succeeded in substituting the authority of the government with the power of the special interests.  This displacement of truth and honesty has despoiled the franchise held by the citizens of its guiding force.  The citizens vote, the politicians get washed downstream by the flow of the bribes.  Along with the politicians goes the will of the vote only to go over the Niagra and fall into the churning miasma of unrest and unrequited expectations for a decent, well organized, productive life in an honesty based land. 


No, I don’t live in Russia.  No I’m not a bleeding heart liberal, nor am I a tight-sphinctered conservative.  I am a hard working, 76 ½ year old who still holds a job and has experienced life in many places in this world.  Given my internationally grounded experiences, I can fearlessly say, yes, even along with Vlad Putin, “Get over yourself, America, you’re just as ordinary, and in many ways just as bad if not worse as anyone else.”

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

FROM THUNDERBOLT TO THUNDERMUG

Brace yerself, this one's gonna getcha.
I saw sumthin' taday that brought all kinda thoughts to floodin' my mind...
Thunderbolt - you know the WWII P-47 types...
Thunderclap - you know, the explosive snap after the lightning bolt that happened just 1/2 mile away...
Thunderhead - like the thick, gnarled black clouds just over the hill...
Thunderstorm - like in raining cats and dogs for 15 minutes accompanied by fiery lightning and noise from Hell...
Thunderstruck - like too much $50.00 a fifth Bourbon on New Year's eve...
Thundermug - ...
... nuff said!
    I honestly thought that EFR Dion had made that word up when he first used it in front of me.  I still thought that when today, for the first time in at least 60+ years, I actually saw the cutie that you see up above.  It showed up at our place in San Diego, on the patio, please, just as pert and pretty as you please like you can all appreciate from the picture.  So, just to test myself and my skepticism about the name of this artifact, I put EFR Dion's word in the slot at the top of the Google page,

and there it was, just as big as life, a real, enameled metal thundermug, without the gentile cover and the cute design on the side.

Brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, cousins and cousines, friends and neighbors, ladies and gentlemen, you all, old and young from near and far, you have before you a hint of some of the things that run through my warped, pretzel shaped mind on any given day. 
Hey, it's better than Alzheimers, ain't it? Hmmm,or is it?

Friday, August 30, 2013

RETRO POST -- RETRO WHAT?

                   
 Hi.  Welcome to my retro post, totally handwritten, in what used to be known aS longhand but now masquerades as cursive...my very own, arthritically damaged handwriting.  Enjoy!
Needless to say...
I was called into the head office and told that my services were no longer desired.
I have subsequently learned that the 
kindergarten teachers can't read cursive either.
Maybe we should go back to hieroglyphics...they have such pretty birds on their walls!



Thursday, August 29, 2013

CORPORATE CULTURE AND THE TRANSLATOR


Raining cats and dogs

How do you want me to say it? 
I have choices, but I cannot read your mind and I do not know your internal culture



Several years ago I worked for some large international corporations and I had to produce legal agreements to be used between the corporation and outside interests in laguages other than English.  In one of these companies we drew up a list of conventional intra company terms [sometimes referred to as "argot"] that would not be translated into the language of the outside interest, but were to remain in the language defined by the corporate culture of the company for which I was working.  This was often the case with technical acronyms.  One of these was AQL (Aceptable Quality Level).  There were others in engineering and in accounting and in purchasing as well.

The point I want to make is that a good translator will try to identify what, if any of the terms used in a legal, or even paralegal document are to be or not to be translated according to accepted and established corporate culture.  The professional translator is aware of some of these idiosyncrasies and inquires from the client which ones they are. 


Verifying this from the outset can prevent discomfort and discontent between the client and the translator.  

Sunday, August 18, 2013

SCHOOLS KILL CREATIVITY -- NOT

This, I have to make a part of my life.
In the San Diego Reader,  Thomas Larson wrote a cover article on August 14, 2013,

"College? no thanks"

I congratulate Mr. Larson because as far as "Reader" articles go, this was one I really appreciated.  Not all "Reader" writers are created equal.  Mr. Larson is one of those who attracted my attention and kept it for all 5,000 words.  Good English, good syntax, good style, good job.
Here's why I read, and, I must admit, reread this article.

For most of my upbringing, a good 15 to 18 years of it anyway, I would hear my father, otherwise known to you all as EFR Dion, say: "Yeah, my brothers have a lot of education, but they don't know anything."
My uncles were on the G.I. Bill after serving in the armed forces during WWII.  They had not graduated yet, so while they were in school, they had very limited resources.  EFR's auto was their preferred mode of transportation when the friendly confines of Fenway Park, 100 miles to the east, would beckon.  Their predilection for the American League Red Sox was always a mystery for us.  We were smarter than that, we had adopted the National League Braves as our team.
But that was not the limit of their lack of "smarts."  They somehow usually returned the vehicle with nothing left in the tank but the smell of the fuel.  Every time that they did this, I was sure that the day of Sodom and Gomorrah had arrived.  But no, the storm would pass and all would be well again.
EFR had left high school at age 15 because his father had died and left the family with 8 children behind.  It was 1928 or so.  Yes, indeed, great depression time.  Read more about him here.  I have to get to the point.
The brothers who went to college turned out to be excellent teachers and later in life, successful entrepreneurs.  They were creative.  Music and poetry was their forte.  There was another brother who eschewed the G.I. Bill and went right back to work as a tool and die designer, and as any tool and die designer who ever lived, I'm the best damn designer out there.  You will never meet the second best tool and die maker.
So, I grew up in a polyglot, cultural teapot that was steaming with both, creativity and education.  There is no way that anyone, in my opinion, can make an absolute statement that school at any level, college and university included, crushes creativity.  I say that fearlessly.  Mr. Larson in his article, positive as it may appear on the surface about skipping college, carried a definite undertone of feeling that no matter what his interlocutors told him, the possibility of a college education remained a presence inside of them.
Personally, I've got a masters degree in a "soft science."  [Theology] I've had a string of jobs.  I've failed at some and I've excelled at some.  I can honestly say that my long stay in school has had its positive influence on my life and even some negative influence.  But never has it crushed my creativity.
One of the jobs that I held for many years was the recruitment of engineers and other professionals and managers.  I have seen up close and in living color, the difference between the "self-made" professional, technical or administrative,  and the fully degreed, =/>2.50 graduate. Give me the one with the solid educational achievement 90 percent of the time.  Yes, I leave a ten percent gap there to accommodate the exception.  (See EFR Dion, above and linked)

The difference is in mental discipline.  Not emotional nor physical discipline.  Mental discipline.  Mental discipline allows for creative solutions at the end of a logical development that follows the intellectual parameters of the science within which the task is planned and followed by the path taken in its execution.  The person who has a foundation in those laws and practices is more successful at planning the outcome of the project, is more successful at solving the unexpected deviations from the plan caused by the pressure of certain variable realities that are not always possible to foresee.  The scientifically trained, disciplined mind can identify these deviations more quickly and institute corrective action more quickly and effectively that the one with practical experience only. Creativity is a child of mental discipline acquired through education. Creativity is not a corollary of experience.

Many years ago I read a poem that made a point of saying that the creative little person who was witty, musically inclined and lovable was crushed when he entered school because the discipline forced him into line with the herd and the nerd.  That is a reality that exists.  I know.  I have a son who is perhaps a product of that reality.  I know that there are people who would very much like their pursuit of art (or of financial gain) to be their only discipline. They point to the great rules breakers of all times, Picasso, Shakespeare, Moliere and a hundred more that I can't name here.  I just want to say that before Shakespeare could bend grammar to his art, he had to prove that he knew that he was breaking the rules and he also could prove why he wanted it that way.  Maybe Shakespeare graduated from an institution of higher learning.  I don't know, but I'd bet that he did.

I beg of you not to bring up Bill Gates and his leaving of Harvard.  It is well documented as coming from Bill Gates personally that he and his friend dropped out of Harvard because they were afraid that if they did not bring their ideas to closure that they would be overtaken by others. Gates and Paul Allen are an example that education, science and creativity go hand in hand.

I could go on, but I won't.  I'll leave you with my point.  This discussion has no end because there is too much truth on both ends of the rope.  I have avoided the political aspect of the discussion.  My math is not up to par to allow me to hold my own there.  What can you expect from a Theology major?
My point is that creativity is the child of solid education.  It is the child of strict mental discipline, a skill usually acquired through education.
Let me paraphrase a traditional dictum that comes from the old Greek philosophers:  The highest truths can be learned through personal investigation, but at the cost of great effort over a great amount of time.
This holds true for pure science as well as for art and athletics.

Look around.  It's true.

Friday, August 9, 2013

IS IT A LIE,OR...?

Many times I sit down and I scratch my head to look for the thought that I had at 2:00 PM and told myself that I did not want to forget because it was soooo hot!!  You've seen me brag about writing 600 of these "thoughts" and now we're on 601 and I have been sitting on it alllll day!  ...and I have not forgotten.
It is about a person whom I know, and have known for lo! these many years and I have always been trying to figure out just how much of what I hear I should believe.  Now we all know someone like this.  Many of us, myself included, know that some people who know us wonder the same thing about us.  So, it's not that anyone is immune to the situation.  It is, however an interesting place in my life that this conviction about the one individual of whom I write took so long to take root.  The other interesting thing about my conviction is that I am now glad that I am formally settled into the conviction that I have come to know that I am not being lied to.  I know that I will continued to enjoy my relationship with this friendly human creature.  Even though everything that I get from that direction is not the purest, pure truth.
This person is not a liar.  This person knows what the truth is.  It's just that there is a drive to make the truth appear better that what it really is so that I will be attracted to it.  The truth is always present in everything communicated, but it comes wrapped up in different ways as time progresses.  It's just up to me to find it.  It's like the same person with a different pair of glasses or a different haircut. I just have to get used to the different styles and cut through the embellished truth to see where the root of the message really is. You have to admit, this is an on-going conundum. It's a good thing, though.  With this puzzle in my life, I won't have to spend too much on crossword puzzles any more.  
The negative I can discover here is that instead of drilling down for the truth within the person, I just may enjoy myself playing with the puzzle rather that empathizing with the puzzler.
The good part about all this is that I really love this individual.
With an attitude like that, why cry at my funeral?


Tuesday, August 6, 2013

599 + this 1 = 600 -- CELEBRATE BY READING IT

HEY!  I didn't think that I had 600 thoughts in my coconut.  6 or 16 maybe, but 600...Not on your life. That's a 600 page book for crying out loud!
Thank you, Tom
The interesting thing about it all is that I have some that I will never publish.  I have been pushing them out of the line of fire for nearly three years now.  I am glad that I have had the common sense and the circumspection to stay away from certain expressions of my convictions.  I do not feel squeezed or encumbered by any of this.  I don't feel as though my freedom has been tethered and curtailed because of my decision to keep certain personal and family facts off the pixellated page and away from the consciousness of the readers.  Believe me, this is true.
Those of you who get email from me fairly often, and even those who get email from me occasionally can see that I have more than one blog containing my ramblings.  I don't know why, but lately I have been reading quite a bit of what I have written at random.  I kid you not, random.  Stuff from many years back.  Stuff that appeared long before I was answering the challenge of the 365 Thoughts in one year.  Some of it is really good.  Some of it makes my eyes bug out and make me say, "Did I write that?"  Just as well, some of it makes me wrinkle my nose and say, "I wrote that &*%@+~??..."  So you see, I do know the difference between right and wrong.
It is true that I have some wonderful experiences that would really look good on paper.  They would really be wonderful snapshots of my journey along the road of life but I do not feel compelled to release them into the ethernet.  I think that sometime early in the series I mentioned that I would refrain from using foul language and staying away from the seemier adventures that I have experienced.  For the most part, I have done that.  Not that all that is secret is seemy.  Nope.  Some of it is quite elegant, really, but this is not the place for it.  Not according to me, anyway.
This blog is one thing. The blog "No Crying at my Funeral" is quite another.  It is meant to be an expression of my experience as a Cradle Catholic who neither could nor would be anything but.  It is a Catholic life style blog from the point of view of someone who knows the Catholic Religion from the inside out and who tries to live according to the expectations of that Religion.  This blog is part and parcel of an online Catholic Life Style weekly magazine.  I have some five or six years of contributions to that endeavor.  There too, there is some amazing stuff...on both sides of the meaning of amazing stuff.  The fact that I have a masters degree in Theology from a prestigious Vatican University doesn't protect me from producing some really horrible stuff.  It also doesn't guarantee that the good stuff is equally good all the time.
You see, I just told you that I was enjoying some of the old stories that I produced.  When I lit up my computer this evening, I saw that I had written 599 articles under this title of 365 Thoughts.  So, why not open my heart a little bit and let you in.  I still have some tellable tales.  My #2 son has asked me for one.  I have some that I have been thinking about.  Nostalgic stuff.  You know like, "Given inflation, is today's $0.99 store the .05 and .10 of yesterday?"  "How many times have you been knocked out in your life?"

Tomorrow (Today?) is Hiroshima day.  60 years now, I think, or maybe more.  The other day was the end of the Korean war, 50 years ago.  We in South Hadley have a bad memory of that.  A sweetheart young man named Mike Barney was killed after the armistice in that war.  So see, I still have stuff that I can talk about all the while keeping secret what I want to keep secret and not feeling crimped by it one single bit.  Good, bad or indifferent, there's plenty of other stuff to put out there.  Maybe I'll do better when I produce # 601!

Thursday, July 25, 2013

ONCE A PROFESSIONAL ALWAYS A PROFESSIONAL

I did not translate because her numbers tell the story.  She is cradling the MVP award of the professional woman's league in Portugal.  Her story in English, below.

Jennifer Risper é a estrela que mais brilha

...is the star that burns brightest  (Portuguese)
calendar 22.11.2011 ás | user Miguel Tavares | coments 0 Comentários
Jennifer Risper
Em Algés, mora uma jogadora que tem o seu brilho próprio e que vem trazer qualidade e momentos de genialidade aos campos de basquetebol da Liga Feminina de Basquetebol. Se o cartão de visita de Jennifer Risper já deixava antever uma boa campanha em Portugal, a #8 do Algés tem demonstrado as qualidades que a conduziram à WNBA.
Na Jornada6 da LFB, a base norte-americana do Algés acabou por ser a grande figura: no jogo contra o MRGroup Olivais Coimbra, Jennifer Risper foi MVP, rainha das assistências e atleta com mais roubos de bolas. No desafio deste fim-de-semana, a #8 das algesinas voltou a ser a figura maior na importante vitória da sua equipa, terminando o jogo com 20 pontos, 7 assistências, 5 roubos de bola e 4 ressaltos. Tão, ou mais, importante que os seus números é a capacidade que Risper tem de assumir o jogo nas alturas decisivas. Nos momentos decisivos do jogo de Vagos tomou sempre as opções correctas: fosse para finalizar em bandeja, ou para assistir uma colega melhor posicionada para lançar.
Depois de ter sido a atleta em maior destaque no jogo da Supertaça Feminina, Jennifer Risper continua a demonstrar a sua qualidade e ao fim de 7 rondas da Liga Feminina, a base norte-americana é a MVP da competição com as médias de 18.3 pontos, 9.4 ressaltos, 5.7 assistências e 4.6 roubos de bola por jogo.
20 POINTS
7 ASSISTS             These are one game numbers
5 STEALS
4 REBOUNDS (She's 5'9")

18.5 POINTS
5.7 ASSISTS           These are averages
4.6 STEALS          
9.4 REBOUNDS

We met this woman last night.  She joined a small community of religious people from our church.  She was there to talk about her change of career.
At the young age of xxvi she has lived more than what some of us can log over almost three times that amount.  The adversity that she has had to overcome and the joys that have been showered upon her all flowed smoothly from her heart as she spoke.
She has decided to give her life to God.  After a rather impressive professional basketball career, the numbers are there for you all, she has decided to be a lay college/university campus missionary. She is listening to the call to "Come and follow me."   She will be stationed in Nebraska, yes, THAT Nebraska and she will be the spiritual guide, the prophet, if you will, in the athletic area of the institution.
We hear a lot about professional athletes.  I personally totally lost interest in that universe 20 years ago.  Of course it didn't help that I was living in San Diego!  Be that as it may.  Jennifer Risper has been the object of great adulation for many years. Through Vanderbilt U. and through her professional career, as you can tell by the picture celebrating her MVP award.  She has left that all behind for the sake of the Kingdom.
We spent a wonderful two hours with her last night. I invite you to click on the link just below to see what it is that she is called to do.  This, I'm gonna watch.   http://www.focus.org/

Friday, July 19, 2013

YOU HAVE BEEN OBSERVED ATTEMPTING TO ACCESS A CHILD PORNOGRAPHY SITE

THIS IS A SCAM AND A VIRUS
If you get this on your computer, you must, I say MUST do the
following:
1.  Say "Oh saint and holy guardian angel of mine, keep me calm."
2.  Read all about the fact that you have been busted trying to access a child pornography site
3.  Read how you have already made it to the public list of perverted pedophiles and maybe even worse
4.  Of course you will see that your computer has been "locked" and can only be re-opened by paying $300.00 by anonymous card and putting the card number in the space provided here-on within 48 hours
5.  Now you can start smiling to yourself because you know that all this is not true.  There are some facts that are now beginning to sink in because you have listened to me and kept your calm, like I did.
6.  You read the instructions telling you to go to a list of six retail outlets to pay the $300.00 fine that will liberate you from the jaws of hell.

By now it should have hit you square between the peepers!  The US Department of Law and Order wants me to pay my fine at the 7-Eleven!!!  Through an anonymous pre-paid card!!!
Boys and girls, angels and devils, introverts and extroverts and other classes of "verts"... relax, already.  When this happened to me this morning I had more then enough evidence to know that I had been attacked.  I also did know that it's going to cost me about 50 skins to get my machine back.  But tell me, ain't that a far cry from $300? I was also assured that I won't lose any data.  Now that's really good because the machine that got bombed belongs to my son.  Sorry son, your Pa's a "vert!"

My computer guy and I were laughing because he was thinking about a real serious consequence to my status when he asked, "Watcha gonna tell yer pries'?"
We laughed heartily and he told some true stories about other customers who actually fell for it out of fear and out of guilt in a case or two.  They only found out that they had been duped when their computer never did get unlocked despite the 300 simolians that they had dropped at their friendly WalMart.

I have written to you before about Internet shenanigans.  It never seems to end.  This is a very sophisticated and well organized worldwide attack.  So be careful.  Keep a $50.00 bill hidden somewhere in case you have to bail youself out.  The last thing you have to worry about is that Eric Holder is coming after you.

But the way, this kind of took the shine off the Lady in Manchester, England who was trying to escape from paying me for work I had done for her. Much to her credit, she paid.

Until next time.  Cheerioooo!!

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

CABBAGE NIGHT TRICKS -- 24/7 -- I ONCE HACKED A CLOTHESLINE -- HOW 'BOUT YOU?

One of my nephews had this happen to him lately.  After the event he got a lot of sympathy from his friends and neighbors.  Very touching and sympathetic expressions of compassion, they were.
"Hey Dude, I opened it and you should see what I saw!  Who you running with these days, Dude?"
"Hey, C..., wow, good looking lady there, man! Doesn't spend much on clothes, does she?"
"Gee, C..., I didn't know you used that stuff!"

I couldn't help but think, what if the same things would have greeted the old biddy with the hacked-up clothesline about 65 years ago.  We used to do those kinds of things to assert our allegiance to the ghosts, gobblins, leprechauns and spooks who were running rampant on the eve of Hallowe'en.  
Truth to tell, cutting clotheslines was reserved for the people whom you really did not like and whom you deemed "deserved it."
Most of the real damage was usually inflicted upon house and car windows with a bar of Ivory Soap.  You know the stuff, 99.44/100% pure, "It floats!"  The bar had a groove in it to facilitate the cutting of it into two equal parts called "Halves."  So, for a dime, when dimes still existed for a better reason than just making change, you could mark up twice as many windows as the Bozos who only had a bar of Palmolive or some such other thing that DID NOT FLOAT.
What did we write?  Real raunchy stuff it was.
"Ha Ha"  "Kilroy was here"  "Boo"   Most of the time we just scribbled zig-zaggy lines.  Believe me, even the ruffians didn't dare do more than that.  Hey, this was 65 years ago!  In those days, even the ruffians were polite.

So, now hacking means something else.  So, even though I haven't been hacked yet ... now that I've said it, watch what happens over night...  So, now, I say, I am the 21st century ruffian.  I figure out that if you're going to hack me, you're going to have to know the grossest words I know in some foreign language mixed in with BIG letters and real tough numbers like Ih8U@%**& in Sanskrit.  If you hack me it better not be for Viagra, Cialis or anything like that.  What I need is Colchicine that you have stolen from the halls of Congress.  If you're not pushing that, leave me alone.

So, there you have it.  My nephew had a bad day at the keyboard.  First he got hacked electronically and then he had to stand by and get hacked emotionally.  It should never had happened to him.  He never kept any poor child's baseball that had accidentally flown into his back yard.  Besides, you want to hack something real expensive and a real rare treasure? Go find yourself a clothesline and discover the 21st century Nirvana. 



Sunday, June 16, 2013

'SNOT FATHER'S DAY WITHOUT THESE > SEE BELOW


You know what?  I gotta tell you that it has been at least 40 years since I have been blessed with white handkerchiefs on Fathers day or on any other day, for that matter.  Let me tell you, not a single day too soon.  I was down to my last three.  I was really worried because I did not even think that it was possible to buy them any more.  That's why I scanned one of the packages so that you can all see that it is indeed possible to buy handkerchiefs.  White handkerchiefs anyway.
Since I was not the one who went out on safari for these things, I still do not know if there are some like used to exist with the light blue trim in the corners and around the edges.  I do know that there was another outlet than the one featured in this photo.  So there are at least two retail outlets who have them.
There is one thing that has struck me in all of this.  My elder son could not stop recounting the bewilderment of his friends when he told them that he was buying me a dozen handerkerchiefs.  His friends did not know why he would do that.  One of them actually asked, "What are they for?"  When he answered the question, the roar that went up was heard in every corner of the planet.  All he said that he was left with was the lame remark, "Yeah, my father is really old school."
Old school is right, but new school too.  after all, handkerchiefs are not just for snots, you know.  They clean eye glasses [see, I didn't say "spectacles!"], they wipe windshields and GPS screens.  Now see, I'm new school too.  I know how to use a GPS, even without the nasty British lady telling me where to go.  
The exclamation point on the experience is this.  The Voice from the Kitchen did not think that #1 Son would think that a dozen handkerchiefs for his old man was a worthy Fathers Day present, so she, while waltzing around JC Penney's inquired about the availability of such an item.  It was almost as bad as a guy asking for ... hummm, never mind.  But anyway, after the person finished choking from hold back laughter, Belle was directed to the location of the handkerchiefs.  The store employee wasn't going to be caught dead near those things.  So, long story short, I went from having three hankies to having two dozen.  I suppose that that is nearly enough to line the pine box that I have waiting for me.
Now, before you get too excited, I have to tell you that these are not linen handerchiefs like used to exist.  They are cotton, plain, thin cotton and they come with specific directions about how to clean them.  No strong soap; no chlorine bleach; gentle dryer heat; low, very low steam iron setting and of course, gentle, very gentle nose blowing, if any.  This activity is to be avoided as much as possible.  I know all this because the direction sheet was signed,


Wednesday, May 22, 2013

SICKNESSES YOU NEVER HEARD OF -- THIS IS PROGRESS?

Let me start by saying that one of the realities that I admire and appreciate the most about the 21st century is the human interchangeable spare parts technology.  It never ceases to amaze me that the heart from a 100 pound woman can give a 200 pound man new life.  I have written here before how I had an uncle with only one lung.  He lived a long and eventful life.  So, I guess I should not be too surprised.

This is not about surprises.  This is about abbreviations.  One of the more technical advances that I have a hard time coming to grips with is the proliferation of secretly coded diseases.  You know, stuff like COPD; PAD; CPLF; ADHD; CCHF; DVD; IFAP syndrome, and finally the chronic disorder from which I suffer, ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ,  and that's only in English.  You ought to see what it looks like in Greek! or Hebrew! Should I say Japanese too?

Now come on, give us a break.  You're telling us that a person goes to med school, graduates and has to pass viciously difficult facultative exams just to be able to talk in code?  No wonder that when I go to the doctor for my once per year medicare "preventative care" visit, all my doctor does is to praise me for my marvelous health as shown by last year's lab results.  BTW, I did not make that up.

Excuse me, but I know what is wrong with me.  Yes, I do have some physical and mental discrepancies.  I don't have to tell them to you in code.  I got chronic gout, numb fingers and sore leg muscles, bad teeth, the ones that I still have, I mean, thinning grey hair, a heavy beard and bad breath.  That's the physical side.  The mental side is easier.  I am just bottom-line-crazy as a bed bug...and a mean bed bug at that.  So, come on, folks, let's call stuff what it really is.  It is rarely an abbreviation of anything.  It is most often the "Full Monty" of something.  

After hearing all that, aren't you glad that you're not the one married to me?


Tuesday, May 21, 2013

UHM, HENRI, COULD YOU JOIN US IN THE CLASS HOCKEY TOURNAMENT?

Fr. Henri Brodeur, MS
P. Henri Brodeur, MS

English = Black
Français = Bleu
Españ
ol = Verde


The last time I saw this face was two years ago.  It was looking up at me from a wheel chair.  I have been having that experience a lot as I go through life.  It's getting to be that I am happy just to be talking to someone from between a pair of wheels than from a frame of fine pine.  Anyway, there was Henri and he was pretty much the same guy that I had known some 55 years before.  Quiet, gentle, monosyllabic, direct.  I did not know him that much because our paths crossed in school a bit but then since I was two years ahead of Henri in school, as I moved along he stayed behind and we did not meet again until about 6 years ago.  He was in the wheelchair then.  It was an off again, on again life, but his heart was not up to the task of keeping up with the rest of him.  
So I did not know Henri to the degree would permit me to get too serious here.  So I will turn to my brother Denis, aka "Reef Lector" of Internet fame.  Denis and Henri were classmates.  As such, one day would come when one of them would teach the other about life.  So I'll let Denis tell you the story about the lesson.

1. My announcement of Henri's death.
Hi.  I don't know if you have been made aware, but Henri Brodeur from Berlin, NH went to the Lord on April 1.  He had been ill for a long time with a rather interesting array of ailments and sundry conditions.
The last time I saw him was two years ago in                                   Attleboro and he was in a wheel chair as he had been for several years before.  So, pray for his departed soul.
2. Denis responds
 "I have a great story about Henri.  Can't tell you right now because one of our granddaughters is visiting, so I have to close out".  So, he leaves for a little while.  Then...
 "Here goes.  Back to Enfield 1957.
We all know that every one from Berlin, NH can really skate.  Henri was no different.  However, he never signed up for hockey.  When the Class Tournament arrived at the end of the hockey season (The longest sport season in Enfield) I was a senior and was elected to make up a team from the 12 guys in our class.  Since we were only 12, I thought I'd ask everyone to play.  I was a bit skeptical about Henri since he had never played the entire time he was at Enfield, but I knew he could skate.  Man, could he skate!  I had seen him several times during recesses.  So, I asked him if he would play.  He hesitated for a bit.  I was thinking, "Well we got 11 anyway."  

I was going to tell him he'd be the only one in the class who wasn't going to be on the team when he said, "Yes, thank you, Denis for asking."  After the game, I said to myself, "Thank you for asking Henri."  

He scored three goals and made everyone else look silly.  If you're from Berlin, NH, no matter what your druthers,  you CAN play hockey, even on "figure skates." "

The moral of the story is not the figure skates.  It is that if you wait until you think that someone is good enough for something before you ask, you'll probably never get the answer, and the precious prize that the answer will bring.

Thank you, Denis.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
'
La dernière fois que j'ai vu ce visage fut il y a deux ans. Il me regardait d'un fauteuil roulant. Cette expérience ce répète beaucoup le plus loin que je vais dans la vie. Je suis  en train d’être heureux quand l’occasion se présente, de pouvoir parler à quelqu'un d'entre une paire de roues plutôt qu’à quelqu’ un encadre de quatre planches d’érable bien polies. Quoi qu'il en soit, me voila avec Henri et il était à peu près le même gars que j'avais connu quelque 55 ans plus tôt. Calme, doux, monosyllabique, direct. Je ne le connaissais pas beaucoup parce que nos chemins se sont croisés à l'école un peu mais depuis que j'avais deux ans d'avance sur Henri à l'école, quand j’ai quitte Enfield, NH,  il est resté derrière et nous ne nous avons pas rencontré de nouveau jusqu'à ce que, il ya environ 6 ans, nous avons jase un petit bout quand  Ã©tait dans le fauteuil roulant. C'était une situation ou aujourd’hui il était bien et demain, non pas. Son cÅ“ur n'était pas à la tâche de soutenir le reste de son corps.
Donc je n’ai pas connu Henri a un niveau d’intimité qui  me permettrait d'être trop sérieux dans mon jugement de sa personne. Je vais donc demander à mon frère Denis, alias «Reef Lector " de grande renommée a l'Internet. Denis et Henri étaient camarades de classe. En tant que tel, un jour viendrait où l'un d'eux enseignerait a l'autre quelque chose d’important a propos de la vie. Alors, je vous laisse avec  Denis qui vous racontera l'histoire de la leçon.
1. Mon annonce de la mort d'Henri.
Salut. Je ne sais pas si tu as été mis au courant, mais Henri Brodeur de Berlin, NH est allé vers le Seigneur, le 1er Avril. Il avait été malade pendant une longue période avec un carnet plutôt intéressant de maladies et de conditions diverses.
La dernière fois que je l'ai vu il ya deux ans à Attleboro il était dans un fauteuil roulant comme il l'avait été pendant plusieurs années avant.
Donc, prie pour le repos de son âme.
2. Denis répond
 «J'ai une grande histoire a te raconter a propos d'Henri.  Je n’ai pas le temps de te la raconter maintenant parce que une de nos petites-filles est en visite.  Alors je dois « fermer".
 Donc, il me laisse pour un peu de temps. Et puis...
 "Bon, retournons à Enfield - 1957.
Nous savons tous que qui que se soit qui est d’origine de Berlin, NH peut vraiment patiner très bien. Henri n'était pas différent. Cependant, il n'avait  jamais signé pour le hockey. Lorsque le tournoi de classe est arrivé à la fin de la saison de hockey (la plus longue saison de sport a Enfield) j'étais la personne élu pour former un équipe parmi les 12 gars dans notre classe. Comme nous étions seulement 12,  j’ai pense que je demanderais à tout et chacun de jouer. J'étais un peu sceptique quant à Henri puisqu'il n'avait jamais joué durant les presque quatre ans de notre séjour à Enfield, mais je savais qu'il pouvait patiner.  Mon vieux, ce mec pouvait patiner.  Eh, comme il pouvait  patiner! Je l'avais vu plusieurs fois durant les récréations. Alors, je lui ai demandé s'il voulait jouer. Il hésitât un peu. Je pensai: «Eh bien, nous sommes 11, de toute façon."

J'allais lui dire qu'il serait le seul dans la classe qui ne n’allait pas être dans l'équipe quand il me dit: «Oui, je te remercie, Denis,  pour m’avoir demander." Après le match, je me suis dit: «Merci d'avoir approche Henri."

Il a marqué trois buts et a fait tout le monde avoir l'air ridicule. Si tu es de Berlin, NH, quelles que soient tes penchants, tu peux jouer au hockey, même en «patins de fantaisie». "

La morale de l'histoire n’a rien a faire avec les patins de fantaisie ». C'est que si vous attendez jusqu'à ce que vous pensez que quelqu'un est assez bon pour quelque chose avant de poser la question, vous n'aurez probablement jamais obtenu ni la réponse, et ni le précieux prix que la réponse apporterait.

Merci, Denis.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

La última vez que vi esa cara fue hace dos años. Él me miraba mientras estaba en una silla de ruedas. Esta experiencia se repita cada paso que tomo en adelante durante la vida. Estoy tratando de ser feliz cuando se presente la oportunidad, hablar con alguien en medio de un par de ruedas en lugar de alguien acostado entre cuatro tablas de arce altamente pulidas. De todos modos, aquí estoy con Henri y fue casi el mismo chico que había conocido unos 55 años antes. Calma, apacible, monosilábico, directo. Yo no lo conozco mucho porque nuestros caminos se cruzaron en la escuela un poco, pero porque yo tenía dos años antes de Henri en la escuela cuando me fui Enfield, NH, permaneció detrás y no nos hemos reunido de nuevo hasta que haya cerca de seis años, pasamos un ratito en conversación y el estaba en la silla de ruedas. Era una situación de hoy bien estar,  o mañana, no. Su corazón no tenía más le fuerza y la energía de sostener el resto de su cuerpo.
Así que no conozco Henri a un nivel de intimidad que me permitiera ser muy serio en mi opinión de él. Le preguntaré a mi hermano Denis, alias "Reef Lector" estrella a l’Internet. Denis  y Henri eran compañeros de clase. Así un día llegaría cuando uno de ellos enseña en el otro algo importante sobre la vida. Así que os dejo con Denis que le indicará la lección de la historia.
1. Mi anuncio de la muerte de Henry.
Hola. No sé si estabas al tanto, pero Henry Brodeur nacido a  Berlin, NH se fue al Señor el 1 de abril. Había estado enfermo durante mucho tiempo con una lista interesante de enfermedades y diversas condiciones.
La última vez que lo vi hace dos años en Attleboro que estaba en una silla de ruedas como lo había sido durante varios años.
Por lo tanto, ora por el eterno descanso de su alma.
2. Denis responde -
 "Tengo una gran historia que contar acerca de Henry. No tengo tiempo para desvelarla  ahora, porque una de nuestras nietas está de visita. Así que tengo que "cerrar".
 Por lo tanto, me dejo un poco de tiempo. Y entonces...
 "Bueno, de vuelta a Enfield - 1957.
Todos sabemos quién es originario de Berlín, NH realmente puede patinar muy bien. Henri no fue diferente. Sin embargo, nunca se ha registrado para el hockey. Cuando el torneo de clase se produjo a finales de la temporada de hockey (la temporada más larga del deporte a Enfield) Yo era la persona elegida para formar un equipo entre los 12 chicos de nuestra clase. Como sólo estuvimos 12, creo que me gustaría pedir a todos y invitarlos a participar en la jugada. Yo estaba un poco escéptico porque Henri nunca había jugado durante los casi cuatro años de nuestra estancia en Enfield, pero sabía que podía patinar. Vaya, este chico podría patinar. Bueno, como pudo patinar! Lo vi varias veces durante los descansos. Así que le pregunté si quería jugar. Dudó un poco. Yo pensé: "Bueno, somos 11, de todos modos."

Yo diría que sería el único de la clase que no estaría en el equipo cuando me lo dijo. "Sí, gracias-Denis, que me pregunte" Después del partido, Yo dije: "Gracias que has invitado a Henri.”

Anotó tres goles y hizo que todos parezcan ridículos. Si usted está en Berlin, NH, sean cuales sean sus gustos, usted puede jugar al hockey, incluso con " patines de fantasia."

La moraleja de esta historia no tiene nada que ver con patines de fantasia". Es que si usted espera hasta que usted piensa que alguien es lo suficientemente bueno para algo antes de echar la pregunta, es probable que nunca obtendría la respuesta, y ni siquiera  el premio preciado que proporcionaría la respuesta .

Gracias, Denis.




Thursday, May 9, 2013

PICKING A PAIR OF CHEAP CHEATERS FOR READING

I have to tell you this story.  I also have to tell you that I have other, more important things to do, but this is too rich to take the chance that I will forget it.
I could start this story way back before creation, but the deluge is more fun, so I'll just dive in with a very short introduction.

A couple of years ago I had new synthetic lens implanted in my cataract-filled eyes.  After all was said and done I needed to get some spectacles that would allow me to read and to operate my computer.  The doctor told me that all I would need would be some $1.00 "Cheaters" from the thrift store.  I followed his suggestion and went to the store.  I walked in, picked up two pairs for the sake of multi-location operations, paid my $2.14 (VAT in California) and left.  I would have been gone in three minutes, but because of the line at the cash register, It was more like eight minutes,  DONE!

Today, while at the $0.96 store for other errands, I saw something akin to the picture featured above.  Yes, a nice looking lady whom I think, was shopping for a pair of reading glasses.  Maybe even two, what do I know?  I don't even know if she was shopping for "reading" glasses or for "look good" glasses.  She never once glanced at anything that had any writing on it to verify the effective results of having the glasses sitting on her nose.  Oh no, not this person.  All she ever looked at was her face in the little mirror provided for such as she.  I went around, bought my two items, cashed out and sneaked a look over my shoulder as I was leaving and there was the lovely lady still trying to figure something out by trying on cheap cheaters and checking the effect in the mirror.  I don't know at what time she arrived there to begin her project, but I do know for a fact that she was still at it at least 12 minutes more while I was casually sneaking snoopy goo-goo eyed glances at her to see if she was making any progress.

I have to say, I did think that here was a rather exquisite example of the essential difference between a man and a woman.  A man goes to buy glasses to see what is written on the printed page more clearly.  A woman goes to buy glasses so that she can spend time looking at her reflection so that she can see how she looks more clearly.  It's an interesting thought.  The only conclusion I could not make about this experience was the answer to the question:  "I wonder how many times a month she does this?

Oh, yes, I still have the two pair that I bought.  They still work fine and I am still as ugly as I was the day that I bought them.