Andy Rooney is given credit for this speech....
I don't think being a minority makes you a victim of anything except numbers.. The only things I can think of that are truly discriminatory are things like the United Negro College Fund, Jet Magazine, Black Entertainment Television, and Miss Black America. Try to have things like the United Caucasian College Fund, Cloud Magazine, White Entertainment Television, or Miss White America; and see what happens...Jesse Jackson will be knocking down your door.
Guns do not make you a killer. I think killing makes you a killer. You can kill someone with a baseball bat or a car, but no one is trying to ban you from driving to the ball game.
I believe they are called the Boy Scouts for a reason, which is why there are no girls allowed. Girls belong in the Girl Scouts! ARE YOU LISTENING MARTHA BURKE ?
I think that if you feel homosexuality is wrong, it is not a phobia, it is an opinion.
I have the right 'NOT' to be tolerant of others because they are different, weird, or tick me off.
When 70% of the people who get arrested are black, in cities where 70% of the population is black, that is not racial profiling; it is the Law of Probability.
I believe that if you are selling me a milkshake, a pack of cigarettes, a newspaper or a hotel room, you must do it in English! As a matter of fact, if you want to be an American citizen, you should have to speak English!
My father and grandfather didn't die in vain so you can leave the countries you were born in to come over and disrespect ours.
I think the police should have every right to shoot you if you threaten them after they tell you to stop. If you can't understand the word 'freeze' or 'stop' in English, see the above lines.
I don't think just because you were not born in this country, you are qualified for any special loan programs, government sponsored bank loans or tax breaks, etc., so you can open a hotel, coffee shop, trinket store, or any other business.
We did not go to the aid of certain foreign countries and risk our lives in wars to defend their freedoms, so that decades later they could come over here and tell us our constitution is a living document; and open to their interpretations.
I don't hate the rich; I don't pity the poor.
I know pro wrestling is fake, but so are movies and television. That doesn't stop you from watching them.
I think Bill Gates has every right to keep every penny he made and continue to make more. If it ticks you off, go and invent the next operating system that's better, and put your name on the building...
It doesn't take a whole village to raise a child right, but it does take a parent to stand up to the kid; and smack their little behinds when necessary, and say 'NO!'
I think tattoos and piercing are fine if you want them, but please don't pretend they are a political statement. And, please, stay home until that new lip ring heals. I don't want to look at your ugly infected mouth as you serve me French fries!
I am sick of 'Political Correctness.' I know a lot of black people, and not a single one of them was born in Africa ; so how can they be 'African-Americans'? Besides, Africa is a continent. I don't go around saying I am a European-American because my great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather was from Europe. I am proud to be from America and nowhere else.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
I can feel Spring!!
I have stumbled over how to open this particular post a thousand times. Not because there's something major that needs saying but, rather, because there's so little to say. Life has taken on that sweetness you feel in a quiet breeze; calm, still, thoroughly refreshing. I once heard that happiness makes for dull artistry, which, if you look at the greatest works of art throughout history, seems quite true. Literature and art and music and dance and poetry and everything seem to be the result of seasons of depression, sorrow, loneliness, heartache. I find I struggle to feel my own voice emerge amidst the joy I'm experiencing. Not that it's gone. But that, for now, it's buried beneath something with a weight I actually enjoy carrying. Like the weight of a child against your chest. It's a pleasant sensation, one that says being quiet isn't such a bad thing.
And yet there's that feeling that I'm not supposed to remain quiet forever. I actually have known for a few weeks now that I'm supposed to be writing, I'm supposed to be sharing what's going on. In my mind I pressure myself, wondering what compelling thoughts I can possibly have to share now? Aside from a few pictures, does anyone really want to know what I'm thinking about? Even if they do, can I possibly deliver whatever it is they want to read? If it is, in fact, true that happiness makes for dull artistry, then you're about to get one heavy dose of humdrum, because I'm deliriously happy.
Sydney is 3, and is everything I thought she would be and more. It sounds so silly, but even her toes are a marvel to me. I find there's nothing I really dread in mothering now, not the diapers or the sleepless nights. Everything with her took on a feel of splendid opportunity when she was born. Each strand of hair waiting to be swept back, each little finger waiting to be held, everything was a symbol of hope and possibility.I really don't have the words to express it. I can only try to liken it to the sensation you get when plunging into a tub of warm water after standing outside on a very cold day. Every limb, every digit, seems to reel - and suddenly you realize you can feel your toes and your fingers and your cheeks are gaining their color again. It's like being reborn. It's like being alive in a new way.
It has been very warm here the past few days. We let Sydney play outside a lot, and let her take the new John Deere Gator for a spin (I'll post some pics soon) She has a lot to learn about this driving thing. She can't figure out how to look where she is going-which resulted in several hits to the house,the wrough iron railing and my shins. I enjoyed being outside,hearing the birds chirping, see new flowers poking their heads up out of the ground, the bare, bare tress. I saw myself in those trees. I understand that lifelessness. Or, rather, the look of it. Do they know what is coming? Do they realize what gifts have been stored up within their very limbs, waiting to spring forth in just a few months' time? No matter how dead on the outside, there is potential and possibility and hope buried within every naked branch.
Spring is on it's way!!! And I for one cannot wait!
And yet there's that feeling that I'm not supposed to remain quiet forever. I actually have known for a few weeks now that I'm supposed to be writing, I'm supposed to be sharing what's going on. In my mind I pressure myself, wondering what compelling thoughts I can possibly have to share now? Aside from a few pictures, does anyone really want to know what I'm thinking about? Even if they do, can I possibly deliver whatever it is they want to read? If it is, in fact, true that happiness makes for dull artistry, then you're about to get one heavy dose of humdrum, because I'm deliriously happy.
Sydney is 3, and is everything I thought she would be and more. It sounds so silly, but even her toes are a marvel to me. I find there's nothing I really dread in mothering now, not the diapers or the sleepless nights. Everything with her took on a feel of splendid opportunity when she was born. Each strand of hair waiting to be swept back, each little finger waiting to be held, everything was a symbol of hope and possibility.I really don't have the words to express it. I can only try to liken it to the sensation you get when plunging into a tub of warm water after standing outside on a very cold day. Every limb, every digit, seems to reel - and suddenly you realize you can feel your toes and your fingers and your cheeks are gaining their color again. It's like being reborn. It's like being alive in a new way.
It has been very warm here the past few days. We let Sydney play outside a lot, and let her take the new John Deere Gator for a spin (I'll post some pics soon) She has a lot to learn about this driving thing. She can't figure out how to look where she is going-which resulted in several hits to the house,the wrough iron railing and my shins. I enjoyed being outside,hearing the birds chirping, see new flowers poking their heads up out of the ground, the bare, bare tress. I saw myself in those trees. I understand that lifelessness. Or, rather, the look of it. Do they know what is coming? Do they realize what gifts have been stored up within their very limbs, waiting to spring forth in just a few months' time? No matter how dead on the outside, there is potential and possibility and hope buried within every naked branch.
Spring is on it's way!!! And I for one cannot wait!
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Monday, March 2, 2009
And God created Dispatchers
(Author unknown)
An angel walked in and found the Lord walking around in a small circle muttering to himself.
"What are you working on now Lord?" asked the angel..
"Well, I finished creating a peace officer, now I'm working on a dispatcher."
Since the angel could see nothing in the room, he asked God to tell him about it.
"It's somewhat like the police officer model. It has 5 hands; one for answering the phone, two for typing, one for answering the radio and one for grabbing a cup of coffee. The arms had to be placed fairly carefully since all the tasks a dispatcher does, have to be done simultaneously. The digestive system is a little complicated, since it runs on coffee and food that can be delivered, but seldom needs to get up for the rest room. I made the skin tempered Duralite covered Teflon. A dispatchers hide has to be tough enough to withstand darts from cranky officers, jabs from citizens, and lack of attention by administration, but not show any signs of wear and tear. Unlike a police officer, it only needs one pair of eyes, so that left extra room for the ears. There are five sets of ears; one for the telephone, one for the main radio, two for the other radios it has to monitor, and one to hear everything else going on around it. They fit right on the head, since it had to be extra large for the brain. The brain has to be enormous so it can remember afull set of 10 codes, phonetic alphabet, at least two hundred different voices, the entire contents of three different SOP manuels, two teletype manuals, and an NCIC code book. Of course, I left enough extra space for it to learn individual quirks of every different Sergeant, Lieutenant, Watch Commander, fire chief and other supervisors, and the ability to keep them all straight. There also has to be room for it to learn which situations need an officer and which don't, and also the ability to determine in less than two minutes what to do for any given event. There is a built in condenser so it can take an hour long explanation, put it into 30 seconds worth of radio transmission, but still get the whole story across. Those switches in the front are for the emotions. It has to be able to talk to a mother whose child has just died without showing pain, a rape victim and show empathy, a suicidal person and show calmness and reassurance, and an abusive drunk without getting angry. When one of the officers yells for help, it can't panic, and when someone doesn't make it, the dispatcher's heart mustn't break. The little soft spot just to the left of the emotion switch is for abandoned animals, frightened children, and little old ladies who are lonely and just want to talk to someone for a few minutes. The dispatcher has to care very much for the officers, firefighters and EMTs it serves, without getting personnally involved with any of them, so I added another switch for that. Plus, of course, the dispatcher can't have any of its own issues to worry about while it is on duty, so that last switch turns those off. The patience switch is turned up high all the time on the dispatcher model, and I've added an extra fuse to those to handle the overload. A dispatcher has to able to function effeciently under less than good physical conditions, and be flexible enough to withstand whatever whim the administration comes up with, while retaining its general shape and form. That warm fuzzy shoulder is there for the officers to use when they gripe, other dispatchers when they hurt, and for those who are shell shocked by a horrible call and just need someone to be there. The voice gave me a little trouble; it has to be clear and easy to understand, calm and even when everyone else is screaming, but still able to convey empathy and caring while remaining totally professional. It runs for a full 12 hours on very little sleep, requires almost no days off, and gets paid less than an executive secretary."
"The dispatcher sounds wonderful Lord, " said the angel, "Where is this amazing creation?"
"Well you see, " answered the Lord, "dispatchers are invisible unless they make a mistake. So it's practically impossible to tell when they are run down, worn out or in need of repair. Now that I've created them, I can't see the original model to make enough of them to go around."
An angel walked in and found the Lord walking around in a small circle muttering to himself.
"What are you working on now Lord?" asked the angel..
"Well, I finished creating a peace officer, now I'm working on a dispatcher."
Since the angel could see nothing in the room, he asked God to tell him about it.
"It's somewhat like the police officer model. It has 5 hands; one for answering the phone, two for typing, one for answering the radio and one for grabbing a cup of coffee. The arms had to be placed fairly carefully since all the tasks a dispatcher does, have to be done simultaneously. The digestive system is a little complicated, since it runs on coffee and food that can be delivered, but seldom needs to get up for the rest room. I made the skin tempered Duralite covered Teflon. A dispatchers hide has to be tough enough to withstand darts from cranky officers, jabs from citizens, and lack of attention by administration, but not show any signs of wear and tear. Unlike a police officer, it only needs one pair of eyes, so that left extra room for the ears. There are five sets of ears; one for the telephone, one for the main radio, two for the other radios it has to monitor, and one to hear everything else going on around it. They fit right on the head, since it had to be extra large for the brain. The brain has to be enormous so it can remember afull set of 10 codes, phonetic alphabet, at least two hundred different voices, the entire contents of three different SOP manuels, two teletype manuals, and an NCIC code book. Of course, I left enough extra space for it to learn individual quirks of every different Sergeant, Lieutenant, Watch Commander, fire chief and other supervisors, and the ability to keep them all straight. There also has to be room for it to learn which situations need an officer and which don't, and also the ability to determine in less than two minutes what to do for any given event. There is a built in condenser so it can take an hour long explanation, put it into 30 seconds worth of radio transmission, but still get the whole story across. Those switches in the front are for the emotions. It has to be able to talk to a mother whose child has just died without showing pain, a rape victim and show empathy, a suicidal person and show calmness and reassurance, and an abusive drunk without getting angry. When one of the officers yells for help, it can't panic, and when someone doesn't make it, the dispatcher's heart mustn't break. The little soft spot just to the left of the emotion switch is for abandoned animals, frightened children, and little old ladies who are lonely and just want to talk to someone for a few minutes. The dispatcher has to care very much for the officers, firefighters and EMTs it serves, without getting personnally involved with any of them, so I added another switch for that. Plus, of course, the dispatcher can't have any of its own issues to worry about while it is on duty, so that last switch turns those off. The patience switch is turned up high all the time on the dispatcher model, and I've added an extra fuse to those to handle the overload. A dispatcher has to able to function effeciently under less than good physical conditions, and be flexible enough to withstand whatever whim the administration comes up with, while retaining its general shape and form. That warm fuzzy shoulder is there for the officers to use when they gripe, other dispatchers when they hurt, and for those who are shell shocked by a horrible call and just need someone to be there. The voice gave me a little trouble; it has to be clear and easy to understand, calm and even when everyone else is screaming, but still able to convey empathy and caring while remaining totally professional. It runs for a full 12 hours on very little sleep, requires almost no days off, and gets paid less than an executive secretary."
"The dispatcher sounds wonderful Lord, " said the angel, "Where is this amazing creation?"
"Well you see, " answered the Lord, "dispatchers are invisible unless they make a mistake. So it's practically impossible to tell when they are run down, worn out or in need of repair. Now that I've created them, I can't see the original model to make enough of them to go around."
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