Indigo Insights

Wednesday, December 31, 2003

Two cars were waiting at a stoplight. The light turned green, but the man didn't notice it. A woman in the car behind him is watching traffic pass around them. The woman began pounding on her steering wheel and yelling at the man to move. The man didn't move. The woman went ballistic inside her car, ranting and raving at the man, pounding on her steering wheel and dash. The light turned yellow.

The woman began to blow the car horn, flipped him off and screamed curses at the man. The man, hearing the
commotion, looks up, saw the yellow light and accelerated through the intersection just as the light turned red. The woman was beside herself, screaming in frustration as she missed her chance to get through the intersection.

As she was still in 'mid-rant' she heard a tap on her window and looked up into the barrel of a gun held by a very serious looking policeman. The policeman told her to shut off her car while keeping both hands in sight. She complied, speechless at what was happening. After she shut off the engine, the policeman ordered her to exit her car with her hands up. She got out of the car and he ordered her to turn and place her hands on her car.

She turned, placed her hands on the roof of her car and quickly was cuffed and was hustled into the patrol car. She was too bewildered by the chain of events to ask any questions and was driven to the police station where she was fingerprinted, photographed, searched, booked and placed in a cell.

After a couple of hours, a policeman approached the cell and opened the door for her. She was escorted back to the booking desk where the original officer was waiting with her personal effects.

He handed the bag containing her things to her and said, "I'm really sorry for this mistake. But you see, I pulled up behind your car while you were blowing your horn, flipping that guy off and cussing a blue streak at the car in front of you, and then I noticed the "Choose Life" license plate holder, the "What Would Jesus Do" and "Follow Me to Sunday School" bumper stickers and the chrome plated Christian fish emblem on the trunk, so naturally I assumed that you had stolen someone else's car."

Tuesday, December 30, 2003

~~ LeeAnn of Cheese fame reads my mind. It's not worth the Rx expense to run up the BP for me. Thanks to Random Fate for the link.

~~ Some bloggers are just getting back into their pre-Christmas mode. Playing catch-up today, I found "Soldiers Getting Pink Slips" over at JARHEAD's. He's pretty steamed about it - and so am I.

~~ McGehee (now using Kevin again) links to a must-see photo-op here.

~~ Grouchy Old Cripple has another right decent rant going on about Poverty. Did you see the first one on Dec. 27? Catch that one too while you're over there.


Operator: "Thank you for calling Pizza Hut. May I have your order?"

Customer: "Hello, can I order. . ."

Operator: "Can I have your multi purpose card number first, Sir?"

Customer: "It's eh..., hold on....6102049998-45-54610"

Operator: "OK... you're... Mr Sheehan and you're calling from 17 Meadow Drive. Your home number is 494 2366, your office 745 2302 and your mobile is 014 266 2566. Would you like to have the delivery made to 17 Meadow Drive?"

Customer: "Yes, how did you get all my phone numbers?"

Operator: "We are connected to the system, Sir"

Customer: "May I order your Seafood Pizza. . ."

Operator: "That's not a good idea, Sir"

Customer: "How come?"

Operator: "According to your medical records, you have high blood pressure and even higher cholesterol level, Sir."

Customer: "What?... What do you recommend then?"

Operator: "Try our Low Fat Soybean Yogurt Pizza. You'll like it"

Customer: "How do you know for sure?"

Operator: "You borrowed a book entitled "Popular Soybean Yogurt Dishes" from the National Library last week, Sir."

Customer: "OK I give up... Give me three family sized ones then, how much will that cost?"

Operator: "That should be enough for your family of 10, Sir. The total is $49.99."

Customer: "Can I pay by credit card?"

Operator: "I'm afraid you have to pay us cash, Sir. Your credit card is over the limit and you're owing your bank $3720.55 since October last year. That's not including the late payment charges on your housing loan, Sir."

Customer: "I guess I have to run to the neighborhood ATM and withdraw some cash before your guy arrives."

Operator: "You can't do that, Sir. Based on the records, you've reached your daily limit on machine withdrawal today."

Customer: "Never mind; just send the pizzas. I'll have the cash ready. How long is it gonna take anyway?"

Operator: "About 45 minutes, Sir, but if you can't wait you can always come and collect it on your motorcycle..."

Customer: "What the..?"

Operator: "According to the details in system, you own a Harley,..registration number E1123..."

Customer: "@#%/$@&?#"

Operator: "Better watch your language, Sir. Remember on 15th July 1987 you were convicted of using abusive language to a policeman...

Customer: (Speechless)

Operator: "Is there anything else, Sir?"

Customer: "Nothing... by the way... aren't you giving me that 3 free bottles of Pepsi as advertised?"

Operator: "We normally would Sir, but based on your records you're also diabetic."

Monday, December 29, 2003

Google has several citations on this. The first seems to be from a Navy Corpsman, dated December 8, 2003, here.
Don't know how I missed it until today. Maybe everyone else received it before Christmas - but anyhow - here it is from my Mail Box, via Christina of Swansboro, NC. Christina's son-in-law is deployed with the USMC out of Camp LeJeune.

From the Commanding Officer at MWSS-171 to his Marines.

-----Original Message-----
From: Seitz LtCol Scot S
Sent: Tuesday, December 02, 2003 8:40 AM
To: 1MAW MWSS171 All Personnel
Cc: Fenstermacher Col Stephen M; Kirkpatrick LtCol Stephen F; Chase LtCol Eric T

Marines and Sailors,

As we approach the end of the year I think it is important to share a few thoughts about what you've accomplished directly, in some cases, and indirectly in many others. I am speaking about what the Bush Administration and each of you has contributed by wearing the uniform, because the fact that you wear the uniform contributes 100% to the capability of the nation to send a few onto the field to execute national policy. As you read about these achievements you are a part of, I would call your attention to two things:

1. This is good news that hasn't been fit to print or report on TV.
2. It is much easier to point out the errors a man makes when he makes the tough decisions, rarely is the positive as aggressively pursued.

Since President Bush declared an end to major combat on May 1...

... the first battalion of the new Iraqi Army has graduated and is on active duty.
... over 60,000 Iraqis now provide security to their fellow citizens.
... nearly all of Iraq's 400 courts are functioning.
... the Iraqi judiciary is fully independent.
... on Monday, October 6 power generation hit 4,518 megawatts-exceeding the prewar average.
... all 22 universities and 43 technical institutes and colleges are open, as are nearly all primary and secondary schools.
... by October 1, Coalition forces had rehab-ed over 1,500 schools - 500 more than scheduled.
... teachers earn from 12 to 25 times their former salaries.
... all 240 hospitals and more than 1200 clinics are open.
... doctors salaries are at least eight times what they were under Saddam.
... pharmaceutical distribution has gone from essentially nothing to 700 tons in May to a current total of 12,000 tons.
... the Coalition has helped administer over 22 million vaccinations to Iraq's children.
... a Coalition program has cleared over 14,000 kilometers of Iraq's 27,000 kilometers of weed-choked canals which now irrigate tens of thousands of farms. This project has created jobs for more than 100,000 Iraqi men and women.
... we have restored over three-quarters of prewar telephone services and over two-thirds of the potable water production.
... there are 4,900 full-service telephone connections. We expect 50,000 by year-end.
... the wheels of commerce are turning. From bicycles to satellite dishes to cars and trucks, businesses are coming to life in all major cities and towns.
... 95 percent of all prewar bank customers have service and first-time customers are opening accounts daily.
... Iraqi banks are making loans to finance businesses.
... the central bank is fully independent.
... Iraq has one of the worlds most growth-oriented investment and banking laws.
... Iraq has a single, unified currency for the first time in 15 years.
... satellite TV dishes are legal.
... foreign journalists aren't on 10-day visas paying mandatory and extortionate fees to the Ministry of Information for "minders" and other government spies.
... there is no Ministry of Information.
... there are more than 170 newspapers.
... you can buy satellite dishes on what seems like every street corner.
... foreign journalists (and everyone else) are free to come and go.
... a nation that had not one single element - legislative, judicial or executive - of a representative government, now does.
... in Baghdad alone residents have selected 88 advisory councils. Baghdad's first democratic transfer of power in 35 years happened when the city council elected its new chairman.
... today in Iraq chambers of commerce, business, school and professional organizations are electing their leaders all over the country.
... 25 ministers, selected by the most representative governing body in Iraq's history, run the day-to-day business of government.
... the Iraqi government regularly participates in international events. Since July the Iraqi government has been represented in over two dozen international meetings, including those of the UN General Assembly, the Arab League, the World Bank and IMF and, today, the Islamic Conference Summit. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs today announced that it is reopening over 30 Iraqi embassies around the world.
... Shia religious festivals that were all but banned, aren't.
... for the first time in 35 years, in Karbala thousands of Shiites celebrate the pilgrimage of the 12th Imam.
... the Coalition has completed over 13,000 reconstruction projects, large and small, as part of a strategic plan for the reconstruction of Iraq.
... Uday and Queasy are dead - and no longer feeding innocent Iraqis to the zoo lions, raping the young daughters of local leaders to force cooperation, torturing Iraq's soccer players for losing games, or murdering critics.
... children aren't imprisoned or murdered when their parents disagree with the government.
... political opponents aren't imprisoned, tortured, executed, maimed, or are forced to watch their families die for disagreeing with Saddam.
... millions of longsuffering Iraqis no longer live in perpetual terror.
... Saudis will hold municipal elections.
... Qatar is reforming education to give more choices to parents.
... Jordan is accelerating market economic reforms.
... the Nobel Peace Prize was awarded for the first time to an Iranian -- a Muslim woman who speaks out with courage for human rights, for democracy and for peace.
... Saddam is gone.
... Iraq is free.
... President Bush has not faltered or failed.
... Yet, little or none of this information has been published by the Press corps that prides itself on bringing you all the news that's important.

Iraq under US lead control has come further in six months than Germany did in seven years or Japan did in nine years following WWII. Military deaths from fanatic Nazi's, and Japanese numbered in the thousands and continued for over three years after WWII victory was declared.

It took the US over four months to clear away the twin tower debris, let alone attempt to build something else in its place.

Now, take into account that Congress fought President Bush on every aspect of his handling of this country's war and the post-war reconstruction; and that they continue to claim on a daily basis on national TV that this conflict has been a failure.

Taking everything into consideration, even the unfortunate loss of our brothers and sisters in this conflict, do you think anyone else in the world could have accomplished as much as the United States and the Bush administration in so short a period of time?

These are things worth writing about. Get the word out. Write to someone you think may be able to influence our Congress or the press to tell the story.

Above all, be proud that you are a part of this historical precedent.

God Bless you all. Have a great Holiday.

Semper Fidelis,

LtCol Scot S Seitz

The only easy day, was yesterday.


"'Twas 13th December, when deep in Iraq,
The 4th I.D. had a big enemy to track.
Saddam's stockings were smelly from months on the lam,
In hopes that Dean or Kerry would soon take command.

"Our soldiers were nestled in their desert humvees.
They'd been told they were hunting Iraqi V.I.Ps;
And Saddam with head lice infesting his cap,
Had just settled down for an Iraqi-type nap,

"When out on the farm there arose such a clatter,
He sprang from his shack to see what was the matter.
Away to his hideout he flew in a snit,
Tore open his pants leaping into the pit.

"The searchlight on the dictator now caught in our snare,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to his nasty wild hair.
When, what to our soldiers' wide eyes should appear,
But a bedraggled old dictator cowering in fear!

"Beneath the dirty old beard and the lice in his mane,
They were amazed to discover it was Saddam Hussein.
More rapid than eagles they called up old Rummy,
And he whistled, and shouted, and said, "This is yummy!"

"'Now, Condi! Now, Sanchez! Now, Cheney and Bush!
On, TV! on Radio! and Free Republic! Let's Rush!
To the top of the news! Get this video on!
Call FNC first! Then Dan Rather and Tom!'

"As a gloved doctor examined the smelly old goat,
He shoved a big wooden stick down Saddam's nasty throat,
Around the world in a flash the footage it flew,
As the French and Russians gulped, wondering what we now knew.

"And then, in a twinkling, we heard from our leader
As he confirmed the capture of the despotic bottom feeder.
As he concluded his announcement, they replayed the scene,
(We heard nothing from Clark and nothing from Dean).

"Saddam was covered in filth, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all greasy, with ashes and soot;
A bundle of money he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler who'd sold out to Chirac.

"His eyes -- how they sagged! His dimples now pits!
His forehead was covered with curious zits!
His head was examined for vermin and lice,
Shaved his face of the beard that was his disguise.

"A large piece of wood was probed in his mouth,
(And we don't even know if the gloved hand went South);
He still had a fat face but had lost his round belly,
His clothes were a shambles and his feet downright smelly.

"He was skinny and drawn, the lying old coward,
And I laughed when I thought of the speech made by Howard;
But the spin of the media and a liberal talking xhead
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

"Dean spoke not a word; Kerry went straight to work,
And tried to get airtime (sounds just like the jerk),
Bush kept it short, not given to prose,
And giving a nod, up the polls he rose.

"He sprang back to work, to his team gave a whistle,
And to D.C. they flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he went on his way,
'Happy Christmas to All -- God Bless the USA!'"

Author Unknown

Sunday, December 28, 2003
This beautiful email from the heart was lost in the deluge of emails that arrived while I was away for Christmas. It would have been nice to post it on Christmas Day, but I only just found it today, a few minutes ago, in fact. Read it, please. It will make the warmth of Christmas last even longer for you.


Posted by Doc Farmer
Wednesday, December 24, 2003

When I was eight years old, my family moved from California to Indiana. My first winter in real snow. My first time dealing with sub-zero temperatures. My first warning not to put my tongue on a metal bar or pole in sub-zero temperatures. My immediately trying it out and finding, by golly, they were right.

It’s also a year that I got into arguments with my schoolmates. I insisted that Santa was real. They laughed at me, and made fun of me, called me a baby and other childhood insults. Well, my dad got wind of this. So he took me up to the attic where my sisters slept (we were living in the upstairs flat of a relative, prior to getting our first (and only) house. He sat me down. I was always scared when he did that – I always got the feeling I had done something wrong. I usually had. After all, I’m the one they had to teach, before going to my first Kindergarten class, that my first name really wasn’t ''dammit.'' But Dad looked at me, with a serious and sad look on his face. He then, in a quiet voice, told me that there really was no Santa Claus.

I looked in his eyes. I said, ''Okay'' and we left it at that.

And that was the first time, indeed the only time, that my Father ever lied to me.

Oh, I know why he said it. He didn’t want me getting beat up, or getting my feelings hurt by the other kids (who, as we all know, can be incredibly cruel). And after that point, I spouted the party line that Santa wasn’t real. I had to humor my dad, after all. He didn’t want me having problems, and I appreciated that.

But I never stopped believing in Santa.

Now, is there a workshop at the North Pole? Probably not, especially since it’s on an ice shelf. Not exactly a stable foundation for a toy industrial complex. Besides, he can probably get better deals from manufacturers south of his perceived location--elves may not need much pay, but they’ll ruin you in the cost of mince pies, cookies, belled shoes and felt clothing.

Every year, about this time, some quantum physicist or other person with WAY too much time on their hands will explain exactly why Santa can’t possibly exist. Too much travel time involved. Too many houses to visit. Too much tonnage for gifts. Aerodynamic properties of reindeer. The Earth’s rotation, time zone vagaries, naughty/nice calculations, winter weather conditions vs. glowing red noses, etc.

And yet, they always forget the most important part of any equation involving the reality that is Santa Claus.


Now, those of the geekish persuasion will pooh-pooh the existence of magic. This from people who dress up as Gandalf and keep going to see the Lord Of The Rings trilogy over and over and over again. But magic is an essential part of Christmas. Indeed, it is an essential part of life. People forget about it most of the year, but Christmas brings it back into focus. And for anybody who believes that magic isn’t real, I have this advice. Look into the eyes of a child around this time of year. If you don’t see magic, may I respectfully suggest you take a spin to your nearest LensCrafters.

I’ve got a confession to make. I’ve been Santa from time to time in my life. And I’d bet you have too. Whenever you give a gift to someone at this time of year, you’re taking on the mantle of Santa Claus. When millions of people do this, it becomes more than a collection of wishes and good cheer. It becomes substantive. It becomes real. It becomes a personification of charity and love in its highest form. It becomes Santa. And even when the season wanes, there’s still enough of that floating around to keep Santa alive. To keep him real. To carry him forward to the next Christmas season.

Both of my kids are teenagers now. And someone or other has probably told them that Santa isn’t real. To which I can only counsel they nod in agreement to the poor saps saying such utter nonsense. But to remember in their heart of hearts that Santa IS real. Oh, Father Christmas (as he’s known in England where my children reside) may not come down the chimney of every house. But he’s real. And he’s there. In the hearts of those who give. In the spirit of giving itself. In the love of sharing the season. And it doesn’t matter if you’re Christian, Jewish, Hindu or Zoroastrian. If you’ve got the capability to have those feelings, you’re part Santa. And Santa is part you.

I’m spending my first Christmas home this year. With my parents. I don’t generally like Christmas, since I can’t be with my children. When you’ve lived alone and apart as long as I have, Christmas is more painful because of the separation. But I keep Christmas in my heart. I keep my children in my heart. And that makes Santa live in me. It makes me live in Santa. It makes me remember the magic that is the unspoken core of each heart, but the most essential spark of life.

So, on this day where we celebrate the birth of Jesus of Nazareth (known as Issa) on an early spring morning approximately 2,006 years ago, the day the world as we know it changed, may I wish you the blessings of the season, the miracle of the Messiah, the love of your family, and the magic of Santa Claus.


By the way, when my Dad talked to me that night about Santa, he also said there was no Easter Bunny. I was relieved. Never could figure out why a Leporidae with a thyroid problem would have so many eggs. And I still got the chocolate bunny every Easter, so it was a win-win situation all ‘round.

Doc Farmer, a former resident of Qatar, now lives in Indiana. He receives e-mail at:

This Article Was First Published At


I'm back from Christmas vacation - but still recuperating. My friend, Doc Farmer, sent this to me and he's going to be my Guest Blogger today. Thank goodness he came through 'cause there's no way I'll be sitting here very long.

Posted by Doc Farmer
Monday, December 29, 2003


One cow!

One sick cow is all it takes to make the media go nuts on a slow news day.

Remember when three tainted grapes decimated fruit imports for over a year? Remember alar messing up the apple industry? The other day, I made a stir-fry, and my Father asked me if the green onions were safe (following the bug at a Tex-Mex restaurant in Ohio).

Well, now the U.S. has to deal with what the UK lived with some years back: Mad Cow Disease. The official name is BSE, or Bovine Spongeform Encepalopathy. A disease which apparently transmitted from a brain wasting disease that jumped from ovine to bovine through the use of contaminated feed (bovine feed contaminated by ground up ovines, no less!). Some believe the disease can be transmitted to humans in the form of CJD, or Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease. I’ve yet to find a definitive causal link to that, but this won’t stop the ''expert'' talking heads on the various news networks from stating that there’s an A – B correlation.

When the disease first hit the UK, I remember the prophets of doom (see also: mainstream media ''experts'') who were putting the projected death tolls up in the hundreds of thousands. People stopped eating beef, even though any potential infections would have already occurred (BSE and CJD both have a long incubation period). Farmers were ruined, the government paid pennies on the pound (sterling, not lb.) for cattle, and the industry virtually went bust. Many farmers in England ended up French-kissing a shotgun. The Krauts and the Frogs and most of Europe banned British Beef, and complained vociferously about the appalling safety record in the UK. Not mentioning, of course, that many of these same governments were actually lying through their teeth about their own BSE problem, and exporting live infected cattle to the UK.

In the end, fewer than 200 people (out of some 60 million) died from CJD in England. More than that died from BSE-related suicide. More than that probably died from choking on a burger, for that matter.

All because the media decided to whip up a frenzy to sell papers, ad space and commercial time.

Here are some things the US government should and should not do to handle this non-crisis:

* Don’t stuff a hamburger in your face (or your young children’s either) at every photo opportunity. They did this in the UK, and ended up looking really stupid.

* Don’t start coming up with idiotic tracking systems and regulatory bumpf.

* Do publish all the information available on BSE and CJD through the Department of Agriculture and the Centers for Disease Control. All of the data. If there really is a causal link, let people find it there.

* Do repeat, as many times as possible, that the illness of a single cow is not a cause for panic in the streets, stock exchanges, or cattle futures markets.

* Do repeat, as many times as possible, that the US government is NOT responsible for this situation. Nor is Saddam Hussein, Usama bin Laden, or Kim Jong Il. However, I wouldn’t put this past Jacques Chiraq.

* Don’t waste time on this disease as a matter of national security or economic stability.

* Don’t bail out the cattle industry. Unless you discover that the cattle are flying on airliners, of course.

* Do find the idiot that decided to feed cattle to cattle (or sheep to cattle) and slap them repeatedly with a haddock. Last I heard, cattle and sheep are vegetarians. Not cannibals.

For you folks out there, here’s some information that you may find useful. First, remember that you can only get infected with this disease if you eat the brain or spinal column of an infected cow. Why anybody would want to do that is beyond me. Second, remember that this is not a virus or bacteria. It’s a prion (you look it up) and it can’t be passed around like the flu. Third, remember that beef is safe – you eat the muscle when you’re having a burger or a steak, and there’s no evidence to suggest (in my research, at least) that you could possibly catch BSE/CJD this way. Fourth, tell the PETA-pests, Militant Vegans and wacko lib/dem/soc/commies to just shut the heck up. Fifth, if you’re on the Atkins diet, you’re grocery bill just got a break. Sixth, there’s no need to immediately switch from beef to chicken, pork (the other white meat), sea bass (the other yellow meat), or WWII surplus hot dogs (the other green meat).

I think part of the problem with this situation was the timing. Think about it. If they had found out about this cow on the day after Saddam was found in a rat hole outside Tikrit, you’d never had heard about it. If it had happened when the media decided that Dubya said or did something stupid, a sick cow would’ve been ignored. If it were Easter time and an outbreak of myxomatosis were discovered in six-foot-tall bunnies, the moo flu would have gone past unnoticed.

At least one positive thing is coming out of this manufactured crisis. It’s reviving an interest in Clara Peller ("where's the beef?")...

Actually, you’d expect the media to have a close relation to the beef industry. Considering all of the male bovine excrement that both groups produce....

Monday, December 22, 2003

Leaving tomorrow to spend Christmas inland. Probably return Friday. All of ya'll enjoy a wonderful holiday and share your happiness with someone you love.


Interesting reading about Christmas legends, true and false, here.

Sunday, December 21, 2003
An Old Christmas Favorite

CHRISTMAS CLOTH--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At Christmas time men and women everywhere gather in their churches to wonder anew at the greatest miracle the world has ever known. But the story I like best to recall was not a miracle -- not exactly. It happened to a pastor who was very young but his church was very old.

Once long ago it had flourished. Famous men had preached from its pulpit and prayed before its altar. Rich and poor alike had worshipped there and built it beautifully. Now the good days had passed from the section of town where it stood. But the pastor and his young wife believed in their run-down church. They felt that with paint, hammer, and faith they could get it in shape. Together they went to work.

However, late in December a severe storm whipped through the river valley and the worst blow fell on the little church -- a huge chunk of rain-soaked plaster fell out of the inside wall just behind the altar. Sorrowfully the pastor and his wife swept away the mess but they couldn't hide the ragged hole. The pastor looked at it and had to remind himself quickly, "Thy will be done!" But his wife wept, "Christmas is only two days away!"

That afternoon the dispirited couple attended an auction held for the benefit of a youth group. The auctioneer opened a box and shook out of its folds a handsome gold and ivory lace tablecloth. It was a magnificent item, nearly 15 feet long; but it, too, dated from a long vanished era. Who, today, had any use for such a thing?

There were a few halfhearted bids. Then the pastor was seized with what he thought was a great idea. He bid it in for $6.50. He carried the cloth back to the church and tacked it up on the wall behind the altar. It completely hid the hole! And the extraordinary beauty of its shimmering handwork cast a fine, holiday glow over the chancel. It was a great triumph. Happily he went back to preparing his Christmas sermon.

Just before noon on the day of Christmas Eve as the pastor was opening the church, he noticed a woman standing in the cold at the bus stop. "The bus won't be here for 40 minutes!" he called and invited her into the church to get warm. She told him that she had come from the city that morning to be interviewed for a job as governess to the children of one of the wealthy families in town but she had been turned down. A war refugee, her English was imperfect.

The woman sat down in a pew and chafed her hands and rested. After a while she dropped her head and prayed. She looked up as the pastor began to adjust the great gold and ivory cloth across the hole. She rose suddenly and walked up the steps of the chancel. She looked at the tablecloth. The pastor smiled and started to tell her about the storm damage but she didn't seem to listen. She took up a fold of the cloth and rubbed it between her fingers. "It is mine!" she said. "It is my banquet cloth!" She lifted up a corner and showed the surprised pastor that there were initials monogrammed on it. "My husband had the cloth made especially for me in Brussels! There could not be another like it."

For the next few minutes the woman and the pastor talked excitedly together. She explained that she was Viennese and that she and her husband had opposed the Nazis and decided to leave the country. They were advised to go separately. Her husband put her on a train for Switzerland. They planned that he would join her as soon as he could arrange to ship their household goods across the border. She never saw him again. Later she heard that he had died in a concentration camp. "I have always felt that it was my fault -- to leave without him," she said. "Perhaps these years of wandering have been my punishment!" The pastor tried to comfort her and urged her to take the cloth with her. She refused. Then she went away.

As the church began to fill on Christmas Eve, it was clear that the cloth was going to be a great success. It had been skillfully designed to look its best by candlelight. After the service, the pastor stood at the doorway. Many people told him that the church looked beautiful. One gentle-faced middle-aged man -- he was the local clock-and-watch repairman -- looked rather puzzled. "It is strange," he said in his soft accent. "Many years ago my wife - God rest her -- and I owned such a cloth. In our home in Vienna, my wife put it on the table" -- and here he smiled -- "only when the bishop came to dinner."

The pastor suddenly became very excited. He told the jeweler about the woman who had been in church earlier that day. The startled jeweler clutched the pastor's arm. "Can it be? Does she live?"

Together the two got in touch with the family who had interviewed her. Then in the pastor's car they started for the city. And as Christmas Day was born, this man and his wife who had been separated through so many saddened Yule tides were reunited.

To all who hear this story, the joyful purpose of the storm that had knocked a hole in the wall of the church was now quite clear. Of course, people said it was a miracle; but I think you will agree it was the season for it!

[Origin Unknown]

Saturday, December 20, 2003

Posted by Doc Farmer
Sunday, December 21, 2003

The sky is falling! The sky is falling!

Yes, that’s the type of reporting we’ve come to expect from mainstream news outlets. Pick a topic, any topic, and they’ll find a reason to scare the lachrymal secretions out of you: The globe is cooling. The globe is warming. The sun is going to explode. No, it’s going to burn out. Everything you eat, drink, breathe, touch, think, do or say causes cancer in one laboratory animal or another. Paulie Shore might be making a new movie. Roving gangs are prowling the streets, ready to maim you and kill you and steal your purse and make fun of your shoes. You can get AIDS from bad breath.

Now, the news media has a new darling of disaster. The flu. And quite frankly, I’m sicker of the reporting than I am of the virus itself.

Every year, tens of thousands of Americans die from flu-related illnesses. Around 36,000 average every year. Does that number shock you? It didn’t shock me. We all die from one thing or another. Illnesses, accidents, crimes, Paulie Shore movies--sooner or later we’re all gonna bite the big one. And in the case of illnesses, people can succumb to a wide variety of diseases. Pneumonia, colds, flu, etc., are out there, and we invariably end up catching at least one of those bugs every year. It’s a given that no matter how healthy you are, no matter how much you exercise, or how many vitamins you take, you’ll end up with a nose stuffed like a Christmas turkey and a cough that frightens wildlife in the Serengeti.

So it is this year. The flu is going around. Just like it does every year. And every year, certain people are urged to get an inoculation against the latest or most prevalent strain of the virus. Certain people like children, the elderly, individuals prone to respiratory illnesses and, unfortunately, Paulie Shore. Last time, the drug companies made an excess amount of flu shots, and had to ditch several million doses. This time, they made what they thought was enough, but they’re running out. And on top of that, the vaccine they made for this year isn’t the right strain of the virus.

Now, just so we understand each other, please note that the flu is not an automatic death sentence. For the vast majority of people, it’s a week of feeling really rotten. For a few people, it’s hospitalization and the hope you’ll be fed intravenously (so as to avoid the culinary nightmare that is hospital food), followed by a hospital bill that will require you to be hospitalized again--this time for shock. For a tiny minority, the flu unfortunately means death.

Note the term ''tiny minority.'' You’ll only see that term here. You’ll certainly not see it anywhere in the mainstream press. And although those deaths are tragic, and I in no way wish to demean them, I don’t see why the press is focusing so strongly on that comparatively tiny number and leaving the impression that they are instead the majority.

I’ve been watching the local news. The newscasters are acting like this is an outbreak of Ebola, for pity’s sake! They’ve been showing, almost every night, long lines of people waiting outside the City-County building, hoping to get their flu shot inside. Standing outside in very cold conditions, I might add. They’ve probably got more chance of getting sick just by being out there freezing off various portions of their anatomy. Or mingling around outside with strangers who already have the bug, and are unknowingly passing it on to others.

Why would they be out there, braving cold weather with their kids bundled up to the point where they can barely move? Simple. They’re scared. And who scared them?

The mainstream news media.

The press, in its ever-increasing need to maximize its molehill-to-mountain fabrication system, is manufacturing a crisis where none yet exists. Reporters are purposely frightening ''the masses'' (see also: us) in order to increase ratings and circulation.

Yes, the flu season is starting early. Yes, there aren’t as many vaccine doses as last year. Yes, some people will die from the flu. But no, it ain’t all of us. And I sincerely wish that the media would stop pretending otherwise.

Now, here’s some advice that you probably won’t get from the media. Wash your hands a lot. Not with anti-bacterial soaps or lotions that contain alcohol, but just regular soap 'n' water. Stop shaking hands with people, especially if they (or you) are ill. If somebody at your office or place of work is sick, send him or her home immediately. If that person is your boss, mutiny is permitted in this case. Throw him out, but do so with kindness so as not to screw up your chances for your bonus.

If you get the bug, see about getting some Sambucol (an extract of sambucus negris, or black elderberry), which has some positive effect against flu symptoms; normally you should take it within 24 hours of the first warning signs. Some zinc, ester-C, and Echinacea probably wouldn’t hurt things either. Locate a nearby kosher deli and request prescription-strength chicken soup (matzo balls optional). Sleep as much as you can, especially during the daytime. This will help you avoid the mind-altering properties of soap operas (which are far more injurious than any mere virus!). Avoid Paulie Shore movies at all costs.

If you start feeling better, please do not go back to work too soon. Otherwise, you’ll just relapse, and infect your co-workers in the process. Drink plenty of fluids--especially water--and avoid coffee if at all possible (caffeine is a diuretic). And if you’ve got a fever of 102° F for more than 2 days, call your doctor and tell him or her that you’ve got the flu but generally expect to survive.

! Despite media reports to the contrary. !

~~~~~oOo~~~~~ UPDATE: Indigo did not realize Doc was using some weirdo foreign typewriter!! (He recently returned from Iraq.) The inserted hieroglyphics seem to be in lieu of an apostrophe. Sorry I didn't catch this until after it was published here.

(Editor’s Note: Doc is his name, not his profession. Doc Farmer is not a doctor. Nor does he play one on TV. However, Doc tells us, ''the information above is not prescribing, it’s just common sense advice. Check with your own physician. Read the label. Your mileage may vary. Offer void where prohibited. Objects in the mirror may be closer than they appear. In space, no one can hear you sneeze. Auntie Em! Auntie Em! It’s a Twister! Lo quiero, Taco Bell! Luke, I am your father! Why is that chicken singing Aida in my bathtub?'' As you can probably guess, we’re all pretty worried about Doc here....)

Friday, December 19, 2003


I could make the suggestion to go over to Eric's and read his post, but I'm afraid some of my readers may skip the link and miss this. So, here, with no shame at all, in fact, with pride, is a pasted post from Eric. (My personal contribution is here. THIS IS MANDATORY!

A Few Quotes for my Jarhead Brothers...

"The Marines I have seen around the world have the cleanest bodies, the filthiest minds, the highest morale, and the lowest morals of any group of animals I have ever seen. Thank God for the United States Marine Corps!"
~Eleanor Roosevelt, 1945...

"Marines are about the most peculiar breed of human beings I have ever witnessed. They treat their service as if it were some kind of cult, plastering their emblem on almost everything they own, making themselves up to look like insane fanatics with haircuts ungentlemanly short, worshipping their Commandant almost as if he were a god, and making weird animal noises like a band of savages. They will fight like rabid dogs at the drop of a hat just for the sake of a little action and are the cockiest SOB's I have ever known. Most have the foulest mouths and drink well beyond a man's normal limits. But, their high spirits and sense of brotherhood set them apart and generally speaking the United States Marines I have come in contact with are the most professional soldiers and the finest men I have had the pleasure to meet."
~Anonymous Canadian Citizen, 1969


>^..^< Remember the little English boy terrorized by Saddam in the first Gulf War? Betsy links to his current opinion here.
>^..^< Sam has cornered the market on political testing. If you don't know what you are, go here and test yourself.
>^..^< A new Uncle NoPass tale over at redneckin. Goodun' too!
>^..^< Juliette points out the antithesis of teenage hoodlums: teenage heroes.
>^..^< Be careful about reading health books. You may die of a misprint. ~Mark Twain


A cat dies and goes to Heaven. God meets him at the gate and says, "You have been a good cat all of these years. Anything you desire is yours, all you have to do is ask."

The cats says, "Well, I lived all my life with a poor family on a farm and had to sleep on hardwood floors."

God says, "Say no more." And instantly, a fluffy pillow appears.

A few days later, six mice are killed in a tragic accident and they go to Heaven. God meets them at the gate with the same offer that He made the cat. The mice said, "All our lives we've had to run. Cats, dogs and even women with brooms have chased us. If we could only have a pair of roller skates, we wouldn't have to run anymore."

God says, "Say no more." And instantly, each mouse is fitted with a beautiful pair of tiny roller skates.

About a week later, God decides to check and see how the cat is doing. The cat is sound asleep on his new pillow. God gently wakes him and asks, "How are you doing? Are you happy here?"

The cat yawns and stretches and says, "Oh, I've never been happier in my life. And those Meals on Wheels you've been sending over are the best!"


Two hydrogen atoms walk into a bar.
One says, "I've lost my electron."
The other says, "Are you sure?"
The first replies, "Yes, I'm positive..."

A man takes his Rottweiler to the vet and says, "My dog's cross-eyed. Is there anything you can do for him?"
"Well," says the vet, "let's have a look at him."
So, he picks the dog up, examines his eyes, then checks his teeth.
Finally, he says, "I'm going to have to put him down."
"What?! Just because he's cross-eyed?!?"
"No, because he's really, really heavy!!"

I went to buy some camouflage trousers the other day but I couldn't find any.

I went to a seafood disco rave last week..and pulled a mussel.

Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly. But when they lit a fire in the craft, it sank....proving once and for all that you can't have your kayak and heat it too.

by Debbie Daniel

Does anyone know how to sing the Hallelujah Chorus? After the Republicans finish the first verse, I hope and pray the Democrats will have the decency to stand and sing the second.

It was a bit disconcerting to see only one Democrat within the first two hours of the breaking news of Saddam Hussein's surrender come out on television and give his opinion of this grand capture.

What disappointed me most about Senator Lieberman was that he could not resist the temptation to get "political" on a day that should have been totally off limits to politicking. But he took his shots at George Bush, nonetheless. He went into a tirade of how he (Lieberman) may speak softly, but he could carry a big stick and would certainly use it.

Now what's that all about? He sounded like he was on the campaign trail. Get off the road a minute Senator Lieberman; just pull your car over to the shoulder and take a few deep breaths. We just caught one of the most despotic characters in history, and you want to give a campaign speech.

There was no way as the day went on - and many more Democrats were aware of the news - that they could even "act" excited. I watched . . . I looked deep into the eyes of many, and by golly, they had their poker faces on and were not going to show any jubilation, come hail or high water.

It's a game! This political atmosphere carries over into every realm of our lives.

Where's the cheering? The shouts of praise? What a wonderful gift to the Iraqi people!!!

I'm convinced God himself couldn't make those Democrats stand up and cheer. They have become such an arrogant bunch, that no matter what's been done for the good of our country, or in this case the world, they believe they can do it better.

All of you Monday morning quarterbacks now in positions to analyze and critique the weekend's events don´t have a clue about which you speak. I heard one NBC analyst say that this was no big accomplishment; it's really Osama bin Laden who is the most dangerous.

Okay, so let's just throw Saddam back in the hole? We all know Osama is dangerous, and he better be somewhere loading his gun, but that's not the point. We got Saddam first and I have no doubt the troops are closing in on the other vermin.

As I see it, there are "Twin Towers" shining through the clouds of darkness these days in the likeness of George Bush and Tony Blair. Never in my lifetime have I thought of two world leaders like this, but they have become the embodiment of towering strength. They have announced to the world that they will stand strong against evil doers and not back down under any circumstance to win this war on terror. And I believe them.

Isn't it ironic that it took some cowboys from Ft. Hood, Texas to bring down Saddam Hussein? Why these guys practically trained in George Bush's backyard.

I was told a story of a little girl who ran into her grandmother's house on Sunday morning and announced, "Grandma, some cowboys from Texas just caught Saddam Hussein in a hole." Ha, that says it all.

I'm delighted that we finally witnessed the cowardice of that "Cockroach." He proved his weakness when he came out of the hole shouting “Don't shoot.� And guess what folks, he speaks English.

He absolutely did not want to be misunderstood, so the English came fluently. Aha, I wonder if Dan Rather feels foolish doing an entire interview with a man that knew and understood every word he uttered.

I just about died laughing when I realized the degree of attention that must have been given to that interview and how the interpretation had to be so accurate. What a joke!

The "Butcher from Baghdad" just sat there in his own pompous way making fools of all of us, and we thought the interview deserved merit. Humph!

I'm also delighted that we witnessed the cowardice of many Democrats, and have seen first-hand what they're really made of.

We just captured one of the most wanted tyrants in the world; one of the scumbags of the earth, and the "dems" want to lecture us on how it was all done wrong.

Hillary Clinton wants us to know that we would have been further along by now had we had international involvement.

John Kerry arrogantly claims that we could have probably gotten Saddam Hussein sooner if we had more help.

Senator Joseph Biden of Delaware had the nerve to say we've got to bring in the "Big Dogs." Excuse me, Senator, we ARE the big dogs.

Howard Dean thinks this is a grand opportunity to take the American label off the war. Are you embarrassed, Mr. Dean? Feeling like a Dixie Chick?

And have you heard the latest from "Baghdad Jim McDermott?" The congressman who criticized the president last year in Baghdad has the gall to insinuate that the capture of Saddam was timed for political reasons.

What a shame. My goodness, where did you people come from? For all your shouting and screaming at how you will defy anyone that questions your patriotism, I say to each and every one of you imperious ingrates, "You are tearing down my country, you are tearing down our military; you are tearing down my president, and I cannot stand the mockery you are making of this great historical feat."

I do indeed question your patriotism.

None of you is presidential. You are a disgrace to our country to take such an opportunity to grandstand; not even 24 hours after capturing the "Cockroach" and you want to continue your political stance on what you would do.

H u s h . . . in the name of common decency, just shut your mouths . . . every one of you. I will never forget how you tried to tarnish this wonderful day of victory with your selfish commentary, but I have a feeling you'll pay for it at the polls next election. People don't forget.

It's a victory for which we've been on bended knee in prayer; a victory for which we've patiently waited; and you can't muster up enough integrity to say: "Thank God for this victory; Thank God for our soldiers; Hallelujah for the Iraqi people, and God Bless America and George W. Bush." That's all you needed to say.

Bless their hearts . . . this was their moment and you wanted it to be yours.

This "deliberate display of defection" was for nothing more than political gain and I was livid by your posturing.

I could not embrace the joy I felt because you Democrats would not let-up with your continued admonitions. It really is just a game, isn't it? It has nothing to do with America anymore, but everything to do with politics. I thought for sure we could take off our "party" uniforms for just one day and act like Americans.

What a day of "rejoicing" for the Iraqi people, and what a sad day of "reckoning" for the Democrat Party. We see exactly what you're made of and it's despicable.

Oh, one closing thought . . . wouldn't you love to see Lt. Col. Allen West lead the interrogation of Saddam Hussein? I bet he'd have some things to tell us. Yee-hah!!!

[Forwarded by Susan, Freeper from Arkansas]

Thursday, December 18, 2003

The nice guy over at Ken's Page wants to launch something new. But, like one of his big fans (moi) he doesn't know how to proceed. But, here, let him tell it in his own words:

Need help!
I want to start a blog that has nothing but good and happy posts. No negative, no sad, just heart warming events. I have a site on blog spot, but I would like some help setting it up, so as to have comments and all the bells and whistles. I am blog building challenged, with good intentions. Any help or advice will be greatly appreciated.

Indigo has a vested interest in getting this help for Ken. I'm hoping that after some kind soul teaches him how to "do stuff", Ken will then TEACH ME!!!


Mike the Marine over at From the Halls to the Shores has linked to a most moving story of one of the battles for Baghdad. Do yourself a favor and visit Mike's site to get his input and links to "Capt. Shawn Basco Made Heroic Stand at Battle for Al-Azumayah Palace -- Marine Risked Bleeding to Death to Stay With Unit". Capt. Basco was cited for bravery by Lt. Col. Oliver North, who was also there at the time. This is a MUST READ folks.


An anonymous "Santa Claus" left a poem in the Comments of Citizen Smash that deserves exposure at this end of the Blogosphere. Glad I popped over to Citizen Smash's and found this.


T'was two weeks before Christmas,
And all through Iraq,
The people still worried that Saddam would be back.
The soldiers went out on their nightly patrol,
Capturing the bad guys was always their goal!

With raids seeming endless in the triangle Sunni,
We hoped that not all of Iraq was so looney!
We gathered the tribe of Saddam, in Tikrit,
And suddenly now they all started to snit!

They told of a farm where Hussein just might be
Odierno then called on our boys- from the great 4th ID!
More rapid than Baathists our soldiers they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name

Now Delta, Now Rangers, Now Cavalry too!
On Green Hats, on Pilots, I need all of you!
Go to that farm and secure it right now!
Capture his ass- you guys know how!

Off went our soldiers under cover of night,
So stealthy, so quiet with no trace of light
While we back at home were eating our lunches,
Our boys on the ground were following hunches!

And then it was time for the raid to begin.
The first target came up - empty within!
Could it be our Intel was wrong once again?
No! Somewhere nearby is the wolf in his den!

And then, in a twinkling, camouflage torn away
In a hole in the ground did their quarry lay
Dazed and confused, right at them he looked,
Did the stupid old fool know his goose was now cooked?

He was dressed all in rags from his toes to his head,
And his beard was as matted as 12 day-old bread!
How the mighty had fallen, could this be Hussein?
One look in his eyes was to know he's insane!

Our boys got their man - how proud we all are
The relief in our country is felt near and far
A bath he has had now - yet he'll never be clean
Forever tainted with mass torture and his Fedaheen

To our soldiers we give our undying respect
You always give more than we ever expect
We hope you can have now a night with some fun
Your loved ones back home say- JOB DAMN WELL DONE!

Posted by Santa Claus at December 16, 2003 02:13 PM


Schizophrenia: Do you Hear What I Hear?

Multiple Personality Disorder: We Three Kings Disoriented Are

Dementia: I Think I'll Be Home for Christmas

Narcissistic: Hark the Herald Angels Sing About Me

Manic: Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores and Office and Town and Cars and Busses and Trucks and Trees and Fire Hydrants and.....

Paranoid: Santa Claus is Coming to Get Me

Personality Disorder: You Better Watch Out, I'm Gonna Cry, I'm gonna Pout, Maybe I'll tell you why...

Borderline Personality Disorder: Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire...

Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder: Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, JingleBell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, ............(better start again)

[From Tom and Maria, Salt Lake City]

Wednesday, December 17, 2003

Gray, dreary skies, hanging heavily over the North Carolina coast today are reminiscent of December 17 one hundred years ago. On that day, after delays due to weather, the Wright Brothers soared into history from Kill Devil Hills, at Kitty Hawk, NC.

My grandparents had been married five years on that historic day. For the rest of their lives when they spoke of the occasion, they always began by saying that no one believed the tall tale of a "flying machine" at the time. Incomprehensible; unfathomable; unbelievable! Nope. Don't believe it. Sure don't. Probably a posthumous ploy of P.T. Barnum's.

As the 100th anniversary approached, some Ohioans were challenging the North Carolina license plate motto of "First in Flight". Orville and Wilbur Wright were native sons of Dayton, Ohio, they said. True enough. North Carolina never claimed Orville and Wilbur. Ohio gave America the two genius bicycle makers with the dream of flight. North Carolina provided them with the launching pad that made the first flight possible. No one refutes the fact that the first flight did, indeed, take off from Kill Devil Hills. Hence, we get the license plate!

Top Ten Reasons Saddam Surrendered Without a Fight!












[Stolen in its entirety from The Straight White Guy, who confesses that he, too, purloined it.]


1. THINGY (thing-ee) n.
Female......Any part under a car's hood.
Male..........The strap fastener on a woman's bra.

2. VULNERABLE (vul-ne-ra-bel) adj.
Female......Fully opening up one's self emotionally to another.
Male...........Playing football without a cup.

3. COMMUNICATION (ko-myoo-ni-kay-shon) n.
Female......The open sharing of thoughts and feelings with one's partner.
Male...........Leaving a note before taking off on a fishing trip with the boys.

4. COMMITMENT (ko-mit-ment) n.
Female.......A desire to get married and raise a family.
Male...........Trying not to hit on other women while out with this one.

5. ENTERTAINMENT (en-ter-tayn-ment) n.
Female......A good movie, concert, play or book.
Male..........Anything that can be done while drinking beer.

6. FLATULENCE (flach-u-lens) n.
Female......An Embarrassing byproduct of indigestion.
Male...........A source of entertainment, self-expression, male bonding.

7. MAKING LOVE (may-king luv) n.
Female......The greatest expression of intimacy a couple can achieve.
Male. .... ...Call it whatever you want just as long as we do it.

8. REMOTE CONTROL (ri-moht kon-trohl) n.
Female.......A device for changing from one TV channel to another.
Male...........A device for scanning through all 375 channels every 5 minutes


>^..^< The Ten Commandments display was recently removed from the Alabama Supreme Court building. There was a good reason for the move. You can't post: Thou Shalt Not Steal, Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery, and Thou Shall Not Lie, in a building full of cops, lawyers and politicians without creating a hostile work environment.
>^..^< How important does a person have to be before they are considered assassinated instead of just murdered?

Tuesday, December 16, 2003

As stated many times, I consider myself independent in politics. The results of any testing/polling I've participated in always describes me as a left-leaning Centrist. (Anyone know where I can register with this party?) George Bush is not my hero. But he IS my president.

Ebenezer McGehee, who I assume is Kevin's father, gives some quotes from Matthew Daly, AP, via Drudge, that exemplify attitudes of far too many Democrats for me to even consider voting for one. Even tho, Lieberman would be tempting. Say Uncle gives this link for the entire article. And Sloop Dawg posts a quote from John Hawkins: "These sort of incidents help convince independents & yellow dog democrats that they're in the wrong party, but they also encourage the sort of insane rhetoric that has become all too prevalent on the left."

Ebenezer also points out the lack of snark in Hillary Clinton's reaction to the capture of Saddam. Right, Eb. Let's be fair and balanced.

Jeff Soyer posts about North Carolina's own native son, John Edwards, and tries to explain to John why flu vaccine ran out. Good luck, Jeff. Sometimes John just doesn't get it.


Go NOW and read Hey Dudes.


On the first day of Christmas when I brought home my tree
My 12 cats were laughing at me

On the second day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the third day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the fourth day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the fifth day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the sixth day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 miss! ing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the seventh day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree
7 half-dead rodents
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the eighth day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree
8 shattered ornaments
7 half-dead rodents
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the ninth day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree
9 chewed-through light strings
8 shattered ornaments
7 half-dead rodents
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the tenth day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree
10 tinsel hairballs
9 chewed-through light strings
8 shattered ornaments
7 half-dead rodents
6 fallen angels!
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the eleventh day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree
11 broken branches
10 tinsel hairballs
9 chewed-through light strings
8 shattered ornaments
7 half-dead rodents
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the twelfth day of Christmas I looked at my poor tree
12 cats a-climbing
11 broken branches
10 tinsel hairballs
9 chewed-through light strings
8 shattered ornaments
7 half-dead rodents
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

~~ From Susan, Wytheville, VA

Godfather II: Gore Makes Dean an Offer
Don Corleone would fit right in as Democratic Party boss.
Bush decision on Iraq recalls child's tale of 'The Little Red Hen'
Links courtesy of Betsy.




NAME ____________________GANG NAME ___________________

TAG ____________________ HOOD ____________________

1). Little Jimmy has an AK 47 with a 30 round clip. He usually misses 6 out of every 10 shots and he uses 13 rounds per drive-by shooting. How many drive-by shootings can Little Johnny attempt before he has to reload?
2). Jose has 2 ounces of cocaine. If he sells an 8 ball to Antonio for $320 and 2 grams to Juan for $85 per gram, what is the street value of the rest of his hold?
3). Rufus pimps 3 hos. If the price is $85 per trick, how many tricks per day must each ho turn to support Rufus's $800 per day crack habit?
4). Jerome wants to cut the pound of cocaine he bought for $40,000 to make 20% profit. How many ounces will he need?
5). Willie gets $200 for a stolen BMW, $150 for stealing a Corvette, and $100 for a 4x4. If he steals 1 BMW, 2 Corvettes and 3 4x4's, how many more Corvettes must he have to steal to have $900?
6). Raoul got 6 years for murder. He also got $10,000 for the hit. If his common-law wife spends $100 per month, how much money will be left when he gets out?
Extra credit bonus: How much more time will he get for killing the ho that spent his money?
7). If an average can of spray paint covers 22 square feet and the average letter is 3 square feet, how many letters can be sprayed with 3 eight ounce cans of spray paint with 20% paint free?
8). Hector knocked up 3 girls in the gang. There are 27girls in his gang. What is the exact percentage of girls Hector knocked up?
9). Bernie is a lookout for the gang. Bernie has a boa constrictor that eats 3 small rats per week at a cost of $5 per rat. If Bernie makes $700 a week as a lookout, how many weeks can he feed the boa on one week's income?
10). Billy steals Joe's skateboard. As Billy skates away at 35 mph, Joe loads his 357 Magnum. If it takes Joe 20 seconds to load his magnum, how far away will Billy be when he gets whacked?

{Note: Californians, please reply directly to Jimmy of Ayden, NC}


6. Two antennas meet on a roof, fall in love, and get married. The ceremony wasn't much, but the reception was brilliant.
7. Two cannibals are eating a clown. One says to the other, "Does this taste funny to you?"
8. "Doc, I can't stop singing 'The Green, Green Grass of Home.'"
"That sounds like Tom Jones Syndrome."
"Is it common?"
"It's not unusual."
9. Two cows are standing next to each other in a field. Daisy says to Dolly,
"I was artificially inseminated this morning."
"I don't believe you," said Dolly.
"It's true, no bull!" exclaimed Daisy.
10. An invisible man marries an invisible woman. The kids were nothing to look at either.


>^..^< Snow Dog
>^..^< Mindbender Really! Go see for yourself.
>^..^< Why do you have to "put your two cents in"...but it's only a "penny for your thoughts"? Where's that extra penny going?


64 and Pregnant
A woman went to the doctor's office. She was seen by one of the new doctors, but after about 4 minutes in the examination room, she burst out, screaming as she ran down the hall. An older doctor stopped her and asked what the problem was, and she told him her story. After listening, he had her sit down and relax in another room. The older doctor marched down the hallway to the back where the first doctor was and demanded,
"What's the matter with you? Mrs. Terry is 64 years old, she has four grown children and seven grandchildren, and you told her she was pregnant?"
The new doctor continued to write on his clipboard and without looking up said, "Does she still have the hiccups?"

Monday, December 15, 2003
As the pace picks up, and the crunch sets in, I seem to be having more and more SMs (see below). In addition to the anxiety of the season, I've also been struck with the angst of the back flare-up, which has kept me away from the keyboard. Reading the news and managing the email is about all I've done for a week. At the moment, there are 117 emails waiting in the in-box and I can only sit for half hour intervals. [arrgghh] Forgive my lackadaisical blogging, for I really know not what I do!!!

or SM™ [trademarked by Chuck]

This story is about an elderly couple, sitting together watching television, during the holiday season. During one of the
commercials, the husband asked his wife, "Whatever happened to our sexual relations?" After a long thoughtful silence, the wife replied during the next commercial, "You know, I don't know. I don't even think we got a Christmas card from them this year!"
~~Thanks to Christina, Swansboro, NC


One beautiful December evening Huan Cho and his girlfriend Jung Lee were sitting by the side of the ocean. It was a
romantic full moon, when Huan Cho said "Hey baby, let's play Weeweechu."

"Oh no, not now, lets look at the moon" said Jung Lee.

"Oh, c'mon baby, let's you and I play Weeweechu. I love you and it's the perfect time," Huan Cho Begged.

"But I rather just hold your hand and watch the moon."

"Please Jung Lee, just once play Weeweechu with me."

Jung Lee looked at Huan Chi and said, "OK, we'll play Weeweechu."

Huan Cho grabbed his guitar and they both sang.....

"Weeweechu a Merry Christmas, Weeweechu a Merry Christmas,

Weeweechu a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year."

~~Thanks to Don, VA Mountaineer


Which segues perfectly into - - - - -

A New Series, courtesy Judiu, Beaufort, NC

1. Two peanuts walk into a bar. One was a salted.
2. A jumper cable walks into a bar. The bartender says, "I'll serve you, but don't start anything."
3. A sandwich walks into a bar. The bartender says, "Sorry we don't serve food in here."
4. A dyslexic man walks into a bra.
5. A man walks into a bar with a slab of asphalt under his arm and says, "A beer please...and one for the road."

>^..^< Make your own Christmas card here.
>^..^< Major Bejus has a new address.
>^..^< Wouldn't it be nice if whenever we messed up our life we could simply press "Ctrl Alt Delete' and start all over?
>^..^< Perverts without computers would happily pay for what pops up for free on my monitor.
>^..^< indigoinsights[at[hotmail[dot com]

Sunday, December 14, 2003


His name is Bill. He has wild hair, wears a T-shirt with holes in it, jeans and no shoes. This was literally his wardrobe for his entire four years of college. He is brilliant. Kind of esoteric and very, very bright. He became a Christian while attending college.

Across the street from the campus is a well-dressed congregation in a very conservative church. They want to develop a ministry to the students, but are not sure how to go about it.

One day Bill decides to go there. He walks in with no shoes, jeans, his T-shirt, and wild hair.

The service has already started and so Bill starts down the aisle looking for a seat. But the church is completely packed and he can't find a seat. By now people in the congregation are really looking a bit uncomfortable, but no one says anything.

Bill gets closer and closer and closer to the pulpit and, when he realizes there are no seats, he just squats down right on the carpet. (Although perfectly acceptable behavior at a college fellowship, trust me, this had never happened in this church before!)

By now the people are really uptight, and the tension in the air is thick.

About this time, the minister realizes that from way at the back of the church, a deacon is slowly making his way toward Bill.

Now the deacon is in his eighties, has silver-gray hair, and a three-piece suit. A godly man, very elegant, very dignified, very courtly. He walks with a cane and, as he starts walking toward this boy, everyone is saying to themselves that you can't blame him for what he's going to do. How can you expect a man of his age and of his background to understand some college kid on the floor?

It takes a long time for the man to reach the boy.

The church is utterly silent except for the clicking of the man's cane. All eyes are focused on him. You can't even hear anyone breathing. The minister can't even preach the sermon until the deacon does what he has to do.

And now they see this elderly man drop his cane on the floor. With great difficulty he lowers himself and sits down next to Bill and worships with him, so he won't be alone.

Everyone chokes up with emotion. When the minister gains control, he says,

"What I'm about to preach, you will never remember.
What you have just seen, you will never forget.
Be careful how you live.
You may be the only Bible some people will ever read."

~~ Author Unknown

indigoinsights (at) hotmail (dot com)

Wednesday, December 10, 2003

Circumstances beyond my control make it necessary to take a hiatus from the puter chair. Returning ASAP. Meanwhile, talk among yourselves and visit the great folks linked at December 1st below.

Monday, December 08, 2003
So many good blogs commemorating Pearl Harbor Day yesterday! The more I read, the more memories cropped up. Several bloggers mentioned how different patriotism was then than now and I remembered I had blogged about that subject a while back. The Indigo Archives are in such disarray, that it took a while to find it, but here it is again. This old post virtually puts an exclamation point after new ones that went up yesterday.


The Rachel Lucas Quiet Heroes project has evoked much retrospection in me. Some of my memories of the FDR years of WWII are as vivid today as if they were the Clinton years. Those were my growing up years, and the ones with the most impact in forming what would be me.

Patriotism and love of country was not expounded upon, dissected, or discussed, per se, at our family dinner table. They were just there, palpable in the room. Dinner talk was either about the status of the war or a subject pertaining to the War Effort. On Sundays, Mother's talk was frequently another apology for there being no dessert! "But we all know who is getting our sugar: our fighting men. And they deserve it much more than we do.", she'd say. That was War Effort conversation. Other than shortages of pre-war "luxuries" (not complaints, just reminiscences of "remember when we had . . ."), Daddy's Victory Garden was another topic. He had not had his hands in the soil since he left the farm and joined the army at age 17. College was not an option with eleven brothers and sisters. Furthermore, the army had to be better than hard farm life. Or so he thought. At any rate, he was already married and aged out of the draft when the war began. He was quite proud of his Victory Garden. When Americans were asked to plant gardens to supplement the food supply, most people started digging in their back yards the next day. Innate patriotism. When it was suggested to American children that collecting scrap metal for melting down to make battleships, and saving pennies until there was a dime to buy a Victory Stamp, would help our nation win the war, we children went to work. Inherent love of country.

News of the war came into our home every night via the radio that was as big as today's entertainment centers. Two or three times a week, the family would go to the movies (a dime for adults; a nickel for children under 12!) to see the latest "newsreels". These were pre-television visuals of actual combat and other foreign footage provided so the events heard about on radio could be seen. These films were made by some very brave photographers, canned in big metal containers, flown to the U.S., and copied for distribution to theaters all over the country. So as a child I heard about the battles, heroes, famous generals, and yes, even the Holocaust, usually before the events were in the next day's newspaper. Then, in a few days, I saw the movies. Years later when I was in high school, but still before details of WWII had made it into some text books, in history class one day I referred to Iwo Jima and the raising of the flag on Mount Suribachi to the astonishment of the teacher. He asked me where I learned about that. I told him by listening to the news of the war and viewing newsreels when I was growing up. Oddly enough other students had not heard of Mount Suribachi, even though they HAD heard that we won the war!

It seems that many children growing up today are not really current on current events. During the Bosnian conflict, someone asked me "What's a Bosnia?" God's Truth!
posted by B. at 8:16 PM
Sunday, January 05, 2003

Sunday, December 07, 2003
As a retiree at home with my animal children, most of that in-house time is spent at the computer surfing, managing email, blogging, or book writing. I have an extensive email list, and friends and relatives send interesting things to me every day. When stories, essays, jokes, etc., that I find surfing, or that come to me in email, are interesting, inspiring, or funny enough, I want to share them with my friends, relatives, and other bloggers. One such story, Something for Stevie, was well received in Blog World last week and many people were kind enough to give links and positive comments on their blogs. It appears some readers mistakenly believed it was written by me, however. My apologies for the misunderstanding. Sunday is a day for introspection and with that in mind, here is what I have selected to paste up today. ~~Indigo


An American business man was at the pier of a small coastal Jamaican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The American complimented the Jamaican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them. The Jamaican replied only a little while.

The American then asked why didn't he stay out longer and catch more fish? The Jamaican said he had enough to support his family's immediate needs. The American then asked, but what do you do with the rest of your time?

The Jamaican fisherman said, "Me sleep late, fish a likkle, play wid me pickney, mek love wid me wife, tek a stroll ina de village each evening where me drink rum and play domino wid me bredren. Me have a full and busy life, sah."

The American scoffed, "I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds buy a bigger boat. With the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats. Eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats and instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Kingston, then LA and eventually New York City where you will run your expanding enterprise."

The Jamaican fisherman asked, "But sah, how long will all dis tek?"

The American replied, "15-20 years."

"Den wha' next me a' do, sah?"

The American laughed, smiled, and said "That's the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You would make millions."

"Millions, sah? Den wha'?" asked the Jamaican.

This made the American pause........ then he humbly replied....................

"Then you would retire, move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, make love with your wife, take walks into the village in the evenings where you could drink rum and play dominoes with your friends."
Author: Anonymous


There is a very fine line between "hobby" and "mental illness".

People who want to share their religious views with you almost never want you to share yours with them.

You should not confuse your career with your life.

The most destructive force in the universe is gossip.

A person, who is nice to you, but rude to the waiter, is not a nice person. (This is very important. Pay attention. It never fails.)

Your friends love you anyway.

Never be afraid to try something new. Remember that a lone amateur built the Ark. A large group of professionals built the Titanic.

Friday, December 05, 2003

The Bird Was Perfect But Not For Dinner
In Iraq Picture, Bush Is Holding the Centerpiece
By Mike Allen
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, December 4, 2003; Page A33

President Bush's Baghdad turkey was for looking, not for eating.
In the most widely published image from his Thanksgiving day trip to Baghdad, the beaming president is wearing an Army workout jacket and surrounded by soldiers as he cradles a huge platter laden with a golden-brown turkey.

The bird is so perfect it looks as if it came from a food magazine, with bunches of grapes and other trimmings completing a Norman Rockwell image that evokes bounty and security in one of the most dangerous parts of the world.

Our own Juliette A. Ochieng, SSgt, USAFR (ret.) replied:

Mr. Allen:

Every time I had a Thanksgiving/Christmas dinner in a mess hall/dining facility during my career, there was a show turkey, surrounded by fruit, etc., in the center of the room. Then there was the turkey for eating: sliced up and served from steam-trays. Just like Thanksgiving in Baghdad 2003. This occurred every single year that I didn’t eat holiday dinner at a private home.

The slightest amount of research would have gotten you that information.

GWB picked up the show turkey and some opportunistic photographer took what turned out to be a very nice picture.

You can’t stand that, can you?

Juliette A. Ochieng, SSgt, USAFR (ret.)
Laughing Derisively in Los Angeles

And then our Paratrooper of Love posted the following, right from the horse's (er, the captain's) mouth:

We knew there was a dinner planned with ambassador Bremer and LTG Sanchez. There were 600 seats available and all the units in the division were tasked with filling a few tables. Naturally, the 501st MI battalion got ourtable. Soldiers were grumbling about having to sit through another dog-and-pony show, so we had to pick soldiers to attend. I chose not to go.

But, about 1500 the G2, LTC Devan, came up to me and with a smile, asked me to come to dinner with him, to meet him in his office at 1600 and bring a camera. I didn't really care about getting a picture with Sanchez or Bremer, but when the division's senior intelligence officer asks you to go, you go. We were seated in the chow hall, fully decorated for thanksgiving when aaaaallllll kinds of secret service guys showed up.

That was my first clue, because Bremer's been here before and his personal security detachment is not that big. Then BG Dempsey got up to speak, and he welcomed ambassador Bremer and LTG Sanchez. Bremer thanked us all and pulled out a piece of paper as if to give a speech. He mentioned that the President had given him this thanksgiving speech to give to the troops. He then paused and said that the senior man present should be the one to give it. He then looked at Sanchez, who just smiled.

Bremer then said that we should probably get someone more senior to read the speech. Then, from behind the camouflage netting, the President of the United States came around. The mess hall actually erupted with hollering. Troops bounded to their feet with shocked smiles and just began cheering with all their hearts. The building actually shook. It was just unreal. I was absolutely stunned. Not only for the obvious, but also because I was only two tables away from the podium. There he stood, less than thirty feet away from me! The cheering went on and on and on.

Soldiers were hollering, cheering, and a lot of them were crying. There was not a dry eye at my table. When he stepped up to the cheering, I could clearly see tears running down his cheeks. It was the most surreal moment I've had in years. Not since my wedding and Aaron being born. Here was this man, our President, came all the way around the world, spending 17 hours on an airplane and landing in the most dangerous airport in the world, where a plane was shot out of the sky not six days before.

Just to spend two hours with his troops. Only to get on a plane and spend another 17 hours flying back. It was a great moment, and I will never forget it. He delivered his speech, which we all loved, when he looked right at me and held his eyes on me. Then he stepped down and was just mobbed by the soldiers. He slowly worked his way all the way around the chow hall and shook every last hand extended. Every soldier who wanted a photo with the President got one. I made my way through the line, got dinner, then wolfed it down as he was still working the room.

You could tell he was really enjoying himself. It wasn't just a photo opportunity. This man was actually enjoying himself! He worked his way over the course of about 90 minutes towards my side of the room. Meanwhile, I took the opportunity to shake a few hands. I got a picture with Ambassador Bremer, Talabani (acting Iraqi president) and Achmed Chalabi (another member of the ruling council) and Condaleeza Rice, who was there with him.

I felt like I was drunk. He was getting closer to my table so I went back over to my seat. As he passed and posed for photos, he looked my in the eye and "How you doin', captain." I smiled and said "God bless you, sir." To which he responded "I'm proud of what you do, captain." Then moved on.

More eye witness reports on Blackfive's page here.

Hey, Americans -- and others in the world who surf these blogs -- read it all! It's an opportunity to actually get some FACTS for a change!


"If you're going through hell, keep going." -- Winston Churchill

"Men occasionally stumble over the truth, but most of them pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing has happened." -- Winston Churchill

"We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. You ask, what is our policy? I say it is to wage war by land, sea and air--war with all our might and with all the strength God has given us--and to wage war against a monstrous tyranny never surpassed in the dark and lamentable catalogue of human crime. That is our policy." -- Winston Churchill

Thursday, December 04, 2003

It's 17:15 on a dreary day. The normally beautiful, blue skies of coastal North Carolina have been grey all day today. And it's cold. SO COLD! Low 40s - which is barely survivable, after the 80-degree weather two days ago. So what do you guess the Marines are doing today? Practice. Practice. Practice. Started early this morning - apparently just as soon as command learned it would be a day from hell - and has not stopped all day. We're used to rattling windows and shaking houses from artillery practice where I live, but the booms today were different than I've ever heard before. I have no military savvy, but I'd make a wild civilian's guess that these booms came from offshore. On a clear, sunny day, battleships can be seen straight out into the ocean in front of my house -- guessing here, of course, but maybe three to four miles out at sea. What I've been hearing today sounds big enough to be from one of those ships. Can only imagine the bad business the grunts are experiencing on the beach. Could be Eric The Straight White Guy can shed some light on my analysis. Meanwhile, I am reminded of an old poem, not military, but applicable with a few changes: "The day was dark and stormy, and the rain was falling fast. Explosions were loud and scary 'cause Marines were kicking ass!!!" SEMPER FIDELIS, MARINES!!!


Santa Claus has the right idea ... visit people only once a year.
~Victor Borge

What would men be without women? Scarce, sir ... mighty scarce.
~Mark Twain

We could certainly slow the aging process down if it had to work its way through Congress.


A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds, "What does love mean?" The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined. See what you think:

"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love." -- Rebecca - age 8

"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You know that your name is safe in their mouth." -- Billy - age 4

"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other." -- Karl - age 5

"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your french fries without making them give you any of theirs." -- Chrissy - age 6

"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired." -- Terri - age 4

"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK." -- Danny - age 7

"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss." -- Emily - age 8

"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen." -- Bobby - age 7

"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate." -- Nikka - age 6

"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday." -- Noelle - age 7

"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well." -- Tommy - age 6

"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore." -- Cindy - age 8

"My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night." -- Clare - Age 6

"Love is when mommy gives daddy the best piece of chicken." -- Elaine - age 6

"Love is when mommy sees daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Brad Pitt." -- Chris - age 7

"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day." -- Mary Ann - age 4

"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones." -- Lauren - age 4

"I let my big sister pick on me because my Mom says she only picks on me because she loves me. So I pick on my baby sister because I love her." -- Bethany - age 4

"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." -- Karen - age 7

"Love is when mommy sees daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross." -- Mark - age 6

"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget." -- Jessica - age 8

Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child. The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said, "Nothing, I just helped him cry."

~~ Thanks to Christina, Swansboro, NC


Thanks to Betsy for directing us to this cute human interest story about the new celebrity at the White House. Two places to see: here and here.

>^..^< Betsy directs our attention to this reminder.
>^..^< How come we choose from just two people for President and fifty for Miss America?
>^..^< The Supreme Court ruled there cannot be a Nativity scene in Washington, DC this Christmas. This isn't for any religious or constitutional reason, they simply have not been able to find three wise men and a virgin in the nation's capitol. There was no problem, however, finding enough asses to fill the stable.
>^..^< If you had to identify, in one word, the reason why the human race has not achieved, and never will achieve, its full potential, that word would be "meetings." -- Dave Barry
>^..^< Just remember....if the world didn't suck, we'd all fall off.