You may recall the story about actor W.C. Fields, a noted atheist, who was seen by his biographer, Gene Fowler, reading the bible on his death bed. The amazed Fowler questioned him about the reason for his apparent philosophical change.
.
W.C replied he was "looking for loopholes".
In possible similar fashion I have somewhat modified my reading habits..
I am currently reading and struggling with a book entitled "The Story" - The Bible as one continuing story of God and his people.
In my haste to purchase the book for the worldy sum of five bucks, I missed the small print: "Selections from the King James Version." - which to me is a lot like reading unexpurgated Shakespeare.
So far I'm still in the Old Testament and have almost made it through Genesis - I think.
This is the first time I've read a sequential version of the Bible since being required to read word for word both the Old and New Testament during my Freshmen year at Grove City College.
Actually, I'm kind of glad I am (sort of) re-reading the Bible (in cliff-notes fashion) as I'm discovering some of what I've read has application to current news issues.
Do not panic dear readers!. Lord forbid as a man I have put aside such childish things as criticizing the emotionally incapacitated and/or morally challenged.
However, this new reading adventure has helped me to reason out something I saw in a newspaper recently regarding the newly elected Mayor of New York, and his desire to banish the horse and carriages that hang out around Central Park in Manhattan - east or west of those tantalizing Sangrias.
These familiar couplings of animal and vehicle are an old tradition.They are also usually a must for most visiting tourists - at least - those who apparently are not members of P.E.T.A. - and presumably still wear leather shoes to get around town. Let me explain.
P.E.T.A's passion for almost any living thing on this earth (okay, maybe not humans) can sometimes make my blood boil for a couple of reasons.
Take one apparent ardent supporter of the Mayor who appears to be a P.E.T.A "wannabe". He argues that "carriage horses working the streets with motor vehicles, puts them in harms way for nine hours a day".
(My reading comprehensions skills have decreased drastically since my college days. At first, I thought he was talking about hookers - not hoofers)
He then claims "because horses can become dangerous when they spook and run frantically down busy streets, they pose a hazard to us. No amount of regulation can stop a horse from spooking!"
But, that wasn't enough. Like most P.E.T.A supporters, this guy " was on a roll" and quickly switched from "cognitive" to "affect", in, well, a "New York minute".
He continues: "Denying horses the chance to graze freely every day is inhumane. Without a pasture, they are unable to fulfill their most basic instincts. Our country was built on the backs of horses. It's time we reciprocate by taking them off of NYC's inhospitable streets and giving them a humane retirement".
So what's his next cause - you might well ask? Will it be to also ban bicycle messengers, recreational bicyclists, and pedestrians who, from what I've read, seem to suffer the same traffic problems as horses.
But you see, a supposition of that nature would suggest this (supposed) P.E.T.A guy is as concerned about human beings as he is about animals. I am saddened to report that, quite often,when you question such an individual a little further. you learn that's not the case.
Fortunately, humanity is not without it's supporters.
A second quote in the article regarding the horsey/carriage matter appeared in opposition to that you've just read.
"A whole lot of people have lived apart from animals for so long that they've forgotten that animals are not 'differently shaped' people. Or, even if they are, people don't even want to stand around, purposeless, all day. Why would a horse?"
She continues. "The horses have been shaped for eons to move many miles in a day, with the friendship and security of a leader. They're in that job because they enjoy it and they're particularly suited for it, unlike any other species on earth."
(Nathan Detroit would have loved this "dame' and not just for her alleged "horse sense".)
However, my non-partial agreement with her view is because of something I just read in "The Story" (P2)
"And God said, let the earth bring forth the living creature after his kind, cattle, and creeping thing, and beast of the earth, and it was so. And God made the beast of the earth after his kind, and cattle after their kind, and everything that creepeth upon the earth after his kind: and God saw that it was good."
Maybe, I'm making too big an assumption here; but whether you're a creativity sort of guy or an evolutionist, it doesn't sound like horses, cattle, and even the creeping things were ever meant to be humans.
My read here is that unless one of those carriage horses was named "Mr. Ed" - I'm not sure whether either the guy or the gal truly know what horses want out of life.
Is it their desire to pull a carriage for food and board - a hot bath - a good combing every once in a while - the enjoyment of their leader, the right to crap on the street without receiving a ticket - or, is it their design to just hang out in the pasture fulfilling their basic instincts - whatever that might be?.
But, then again, what do I know? Maybe the answer is in the New Testament.
I do know I'm a little concerned about the creepy things.
Saturday, February 22, 2014
SURVIVOR - 2014
In the spirit of the Olympics I would like to share my recent victory in a difficult competetion. The game was entitled "find the newspaper this time, sucker dude!"
It started in mid-December when I decided not to fill out - nor return - the self-addressed envelope and note tucked away in my morning newspaper, and signed "Jesus."
Immediately, I became suspicious.
My reason for declining to join this, heretofore, unknown tradition was that by the end of the year my spirit of giving had reached the point of diminishing return.
I reasoned, "Where will it all end? Will that 80+ year old female bagger from our local super market, who insists on helping me out to the car regardless of the size of my groceries, be my next adversary?
Yeah, I know she verbalizes her agreement with the stores' policy to decline all tips. But, will I someday get home and find another personal envelope tucked between my broccoli and portabella musrooms?
It was obvious to me that my newspaper carrier disagreed with my decision.
Soon I discovered the early morning delivery location of my newspaper was under the car, onto my neighbors driveway (on both sides of the street) - atop the carport - behind the front and side bushes, and a few times pitched into that little "well space" hidden from view between the house and the front steps.
His clever tactics included depositing it in the middle of my wife's prize fern and once, deep inside the blue recyclable containers.
The battle was now on.
I began my strategy by hiding out in the well space with my prized Hopalong Cassidy decaf coffee thermos while clutching my oversized soaker gun filled with grape Kool-Aid.
Unfortunately, the first night I fell asleep - dropped the thermos - leaving a milk stain on the concrete right beside the purple one from my leaky water gun. To make matters worse, a passing bird pooped on my uncovered head during my time of repose.
I have no idea where the delivery guy was hiding during my guerrila preparation period, but I was saddened to note my newspaper was now resting in the corner behind me when I awoke.
I gave up the tactic of engaging in field combat and moved my operation indoors. Soon I tired of staring out the kitchen window searching for almost non-existant early morning traffic and retired to the bedroom.
Each morning for almost three weeks the results were the same - until one morning the carrier guy obviously tired of the game and decided to cut me some slack.
It was right before Superbowl on a very windy morning. I didn't have to search for my paper. The delivery dude had thoughtfully impaled the sports pages - with the remaining three sections tucked inside - onto the rear antennae of my car - so I would not miss the latest attempt of the sports media to canonize Peyton Manning.
Now, I don't like to brag, but this old Irishman knows capitulation when he sees it.
However, it is not like me to lord my victories over my opponent. So that night I retrieved his envelope - placed a twenty dollar bill inside - and placed the envelope in the exact same location as that mornings sports pages.
I will sum my blog up with two quotes I see as appropriate to close:
"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." - Lao-tsu - Chinese philosopher (604 BC - 531BC).
"We have met the enemy and he is us." - (Walt Kelly's "Pogo" - (Earth Day 1970).
It started in mid-December when I decided not to fill out - nor return - the self-addressed envelope and note tucked away in my morning newspaper, and signed "Jesus."
Immediately, I became suspicious.
My reason for declining to join this, heretofore, unknown tradition was that by the end of the year my spirit of giving had reached the point of diminishing return.
I reasoned, "Where will it all end? Will that 80+ year old female bagger from our local super market, who insists on helping me out to the car regardless of the size of my groceries, be my next adversary?
Yeah, I know she verbalizes her agreement with the stores' policy to decline all tips. But, will I someday get home and find another personal envelope tucked between my broccoli and portabella musrooms?
It was obvious to me that my newspaper carrier disagreed with my decision.
Soon I discovered the early morning delivery location of my newspaper was under the car, onto my neighbors driveway (on both sides of the street) - atop the carport - behind the front and side bushes, and a few times pitched into that little "well space" hidden from view between the house and the front steps.
His clever tactics included depositing it in the middle of my wife's prize fern and once, deep inside the blue recyclable containers.
The battle was now on.
I began my strategy by hiding out in the well space with my prized Hopalong Cassidy decaf coffee thermos while clutching my oversized soaker gun filled with grape Kool-Aid.
Unfortunately, the first night I fell asleep - dropped the thermos - leaving a milk stain on the concrete right beside the purple one from my leaky water gun. To make matters worse, a passing bird pooped on my uncovered head during my time of repose.
I have no idea where the delivery guy was hiding during my guerrila preparation period, but I was saddened to note my newspaper was now resting in the corner behind me when I awoke.
I gave up the tactic of engaging in field combat and moved my operation indoors. Soon I tired of staring out the kitchen window searching for almost non-existant early morning traffic and retired to the bedroom.
Each morning for almost three weeks the results were the same - until one morning the carrier guy obviously tired of the game and decided to cut me some slack.
It was right before Superbowl on a very windy morning. I didn't have to search for my paper. The delivery dude had thoughtfully impaled the sports pages - with the remaining three sections tucked inside - onto the rear antennae of my car - so I would not miss the latest attempt of the sports media to canonize Peyton Manning.
Now, I don't like to brag, but this old Irishman knows capitulation when he sees it.
However, it is not like me to lord my victories over my opponent. So that night I retrieved his envelope - placed a twenty dollar bill inside - and placed the envelope in the exact same location as that mornings sports pages.
I will sum my blog up with two quotes I see as appropriate to close:
"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." - Lao-tsu - Chinese philosopher (604 BC - 531BC).
"We have met the enemy and he is us." - (Walt Kelly's "Pogo" - (Earth Day 1970).
THINGS I WISH I HAD KNOWN WHEN I WAS YOUNGER.
Periodically, this "Male Emancipation Proclamation" pops up in one form or another. I chose to delete some observations for brevity and changed a word here and there.
During those days in which I thought I was a sensitive man - only to find I was apparently alone in that belief - I wish I had known these words of wisdom....
How Men Think - Men's Rules:
Men are not mind readers.
Learn to work the toilet seat, you're a big girl. If it's up - put it down. You don't hear us complaining when YOU leave it down.
Crying is blackmail.
Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one - subtle hints do not work - strong hints do not work - obvious hints do not work - just say it!
Yes and no are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.
Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your sister and your girlfriends are for.
Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 days.
If you think you're fat - you probably are. Don't ask us.
If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the ways makes
you sad or angry, we meant the other one.
You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.
All men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit - not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.
If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing", we act like nothing's wrong. We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.
If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, expect an answer you don't want to hear.
Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as sports or sex.
Thank you for reading this. Yes, I know I'm sleeping on the couch TONIGHT... but did you know men don't really mind that? It's like camping....
(Actually, for ONE night, the couch is quite Bar - able.)
During those days in which I thought I was a sensitive man - only to find I was apparently alone in that belief - I wish I had known these words of wisdom....
How Men Think - Men's Rules:
Men are not mind readers.
Learn to work the toilet seat, you're a big girl. If it's up - put it down. You don't hear us complaining when YOU leave it down.
Crying is blackmail.
Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one - subtle hints do not work - strong hints do not work - obvious hints do not work - just say it!
Yes and no are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.
Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your sister and your girlfriends are for.
Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 days.
If you think you're fat - you probably are. Don't ask us.
If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the ways makes
you sad or angry, we meant the other one.
You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.
All men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit - not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.
If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing", we act like nothing's wrong. We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.
If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, expect an answer you don't want to hear.
Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as sports or sex.
Thank you for reading this. Yes, I know I'm sleeping on the couch TONIGHT... but did you know men don't really mind that? It's like camping....
(Actually, for ONE night, the couch is quite Bar - able.)
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