Tuesday, November 30, 2004

Ukraine Bank Runs 9 days after election

Thanks to the Turkish Press for this heads up:

DONETSK, Ukraine, Nov 30 (AFP) - Angry pensioners in eastern Ukraine jostled for a place in line to a bank Tuesday as a crisis over a bitterly disputed presidential election spilled into the financial sector.
"If only they would let me withdraw at least 1,000 hryvnas (190 dollars)," said 76-year-old Yulia Kopran, one of thousands of Ukrainians who have rushed to convert their hryvnas into foreign currency over the past few days.
The run on bank deposits was sparked by a crisis that followed a November 21 runoff presidential vote, including mass opposition demonstrations and threats of separatism by southeastern regions.

Sunday, November 28, 2004

House of Dog Art by Maia

Pray for Democracy in the Ukraine. Posted by Hello

Friday, November 26, 2004

Democracy

Democracy Posted by Hello


Thanks to The Argus for the picture.
Aint I cute Posted by Hello

Thursday, November 25, 2004

Happy Thanksgiving

I like thanksgiving. We celebrate it the same way Miles Standish did. He invited one of the locals he met over to partake in a warm hearty meal.

THen when the meal was over, Miles stabbed the Indian to death with the Indian's own knife.

How come that part isn't taught in our schools?


Gives new meaning to the phrase "fattened for the kill"!

eh

Pray for the Ukraine

Here are the words to a prayer sung in the churches.

A Prayer for Ukraine

My prayer does not go unheard,
To you, our incense rises.
And my heart is heard without difficulty
In strange lands, in Your heavenly temple.

God, I pray for Ukraine,
God, I pray to you for its people.
May You forgive them,
May You save them,
And may Your favor on us rest.
God, I know
That You will be with us.
In Your temples under heaven
Joy and peace You're giving,
Life to the people You're showing,
Us in the Book of Life You've written!

In Your Living Glory,
You to the people have given power,
So that the people all pray to God
Who in Christ was reconciled to us.


Thanks to Tulip Girl

Wednesday, November 24, 2004

I've been linked.

Go, figure this. Do the math.

This site gets about 4 hits a day on average. Big woo!!!

I have one Regular Visitor. Maizzy. Who is a nice person.

And she linked me. I used to link her back, but I don't link anymore because I haven't made the time. I should link her and a few more. But I don't, so shoot me!

But this guy now has me linked one day last week. I have no idea why. I think it is one of those random seredipity things that happen on the web. I appreciate his effort.

I appreciate reaganesque stopping by to say hi. Why, I have no idea. We have nothing in common. She writes well. Has well thought out political opinions. Is attractive. Is 17. Is in California. Why she said hi, I have no idea. I do no have well thought out opinioins. I look old. I'm 55. I'm in Tennessee.
I wish i could write as well as she does.

Thanks Omega.

Yeah! Military

I am thankful for our men in uniform this Thanksgiving. And every thanksgiving for that matter.

You go boys!!!

Tuesday, November 23, 2004

Moohamid

Muhammid:

1. Pedaphile who had sex with a 9 year old who was his wife.
2. Bigamist who had several wives.
3. Slave owner.
4. Highway robber who attacked at least 15 caravans just for the loot.
5. Dellusional.


Friday, November 19, 2004

Antonia Zerbisias writes every Thursday. azerbis@thestar.ca

Antonia Zerbisias writes every Thursday. azerbis@thestar.ca

Saturday, November 13, 2004

Proud Kafir

I am a proud kafir.

Kafir (Arabic, kafara, conceal, be ungrateful) is one who does not believe in Allah, or in the content of the Qur'an, or in the prophetic status of Muhammad. Kufr, unbelief, is fundamentally in opposition to Allah and Islam, and will be punished in Jahannam forever

Thursday, November 11, 2004

Yeah, NaNoWriMo

Posted by Hello


That's me working away on my new book Undecided.

It's a cautionary tale about emotional abuse. As any good novel I write, it has murder, violence, secrets, deception, and cheating. I recount the 'funny' circumstances of the Law family how incidences of violence continue their effects many years and decades after they first inflicted their pain.

I've included working documents in previous posts as teasers. And to really confuse you, Chapters 1 &2 have now become Chapters Last and Next to Last.

See if you can guess the number I am thinking?

It's somewhere between 1 and a lot.

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

Leave Now

I demand the immigrants who reject, deny, or fight against culture and American values like the gun ownership, separation of church and state, freedom of speech, and equality between men and women pack their bag and go home.

Monday, November 08, 2004

Snow Village

She tore through her collection. And destroyed any male figure.

The Alpine house cracked into 100 little bitty pieces.

She cried. She held two women together. "See, they love each other. They kiss. They don't do mean things to each other."

They were aghast, horrified, and ashamed.

She ran out the door.

Thursday, November 04, 2004

Continuity Added to Chapter One

This part is a modification of Chapter One. A transition has been added between Albert's madness and the salesman. While we know the purpose of the salesman's visit, none of the specifics are revealed. The two old men begin to talk about the old stories. At the end of the chapter, Albert asks for help.

The angry noise inside him almost deafened his ears so that he didn’t hear the telephone ringing. He shook his head, turned toward the ringing, and saw the phone. As always, someone calling quieted the cracking ragged voices. And as he picked it up, he felt the yoke lift and he focused on the task of finding out who wanted to talk to him.

Smiling and suddenly calm, he answered. “Albert Law, here.”

Hannah, his front person at the security desk, called him to let him know that an appointment was here and was he ready. “Yes, yes, tell him I’ll be right down.”

He surveyed his office. An old painting of his dad hung behind the end of the conference table. The tidy office allowed Albert to work on many different problems. He could take phone calls, review reports, hold meetings, and even eat lunch prepared in the small kitchen through the door on the right. The opposite door provided bathrooms for his visitors and a shower. After all, he needed a place to clean up when he spent the day in the factory. In a word, the office was utilitarian. Perfect, but not elaborate or fancy.

Albert walked toward the door opposite his desk, opened it, and walked downstairs. Smiling, he saw a salesman from a supplier. He had some new products ready and they were going to design the supply chain to deliver the raw materials to “Law Tool Company”.

The man down in the lobby wore black leather boots, leather chaps, leather motorcycle jacket, and a red handkerchief over his head. In his left hand, he held a helmet with gloves tucked inside. At his side, a black Samsonite briefcase sat next to him; the same one Albert remembers from long ago when they first met. “Hello Red Wakefield, great to see you. Hello, hello.” They shook hands like the old friends they were. Hannah had been standing talking to Red about the weather and his drive out to the factory.

“Glad you enjoyed our sunny weather this morning. It’s supposed to last through the weekend.” With that, Hanna excused herself.

Red and Albert turned and walked up the stairs.

“Albert, I didn’t bring anyone this time, you and I can draw things up faster don’t you think.”

“I suppose.”

Both men entered the office and sat down. “Red can you tell me that story, again, about your grandparents?”

“I first came here as a visiting salesman to this office and we sat there with a couple of other people talking about the product plans and machinery specifications in this same upstairs office with its simple furnishings. Simple furnishings, but substantial, old and likely to never wear out. It looks the same today as it did then. I sent out to get some sodas and while everyone drank the Cokes, I commented that my grandfather had a blue Tennessee Tuxedo he wore to the Lilimay Church of Christ where they sang that harmony singing.”

“Yeah, I said ‘What a Tennessee Tuxedo’? I think you made up the answer on the spot there. I had been confused; surely, you weren’t talking about the early television cartoon where Don Adams was the voice of Tennessee Tuxedo, the wisecracking penguin, with his dim-witted pal, Chumley.”

“When I was a boy, and that was a long time ago. My grandfather would wear what he called his Tennessee Tuxedo and sing those old harmony songs, his Sacred Harp songs. The first time I went I kept expecting someone would play the harmonica because all week they’d talked about the Sacred Harp songs everyone sang together, no matter what your voice sounded like.”

Albert listened to his story. The room was quiet. His mine was quiet.

The salesman told him how Grandma starched and ironed the white shirt on Saturday during his summer visits. She washed and dried the overalls, then hung the shirt and overalls together on a wire hanger for him to put on in the morning before they went to church. As a boy, they’d ride in the old brown pick-up down River Road to Church every Sunday and I never saw men dressed like that until I first met you, Mr. Albert Law.

“The funny thing was the men did wear their bib overalls over their Sunday cloths. The roads in those days were dirt roads and if it rained, they were mud roads. To keep from getting their church clothes dirty, if they had to get out of the truck after it got stuck, they’d wear overalls on the way, then take them off when they got to church.”

They looked each other in the eyes, smiled, and nodded back and forth, acknowledging each other with a small nod no one else would have noticed unless they were looking for it, because it was so slight.

“You know, Red, I always like that story. I have to tell you though, that thing about bib-overalls and a white cotton shirt being the Tennessee Tuxedo, there’s not a bit of truth to it. Not a bit. I went and looked it up. Found out the term wasn’t used until after that show about the penguin and owl during the mid-1960’s. Before that, they weren’t called anything like that. It wasn’t used at all until a few years ago during a revival of old timey music. There was one black gospel group, The Fairfield Four, which usually had 5 singers and no instruments; they wore bib-overalls and white shirts. But it was part of their act, and they even promoted themselves wearing the “Tennessee Tuxedo”. But it never was a term used by anyone wearing one because that’s all they had; the people from up north would use it to mock their country cousins.”

“Albert, you are so right, and I’m glad you like my embellishment. And you are right; my grandfather never called it the “Tennessee Tuxedo”. The farmers would wear those clothes, because that’s all they had, but they would be clean. Sunday meant preaching, singing and praying.

“They sang the Sacred Harp songs. The old songs came from a tune book from the 19th century, and used a system of printed shapes, instead of standard music notation, to help untrained singers learn how to read the music. I think untrained meant the people couldn’t read much. This is a full-body, shout-it-out singing, but not that old colored gospel. It was/is white people singing. The harmonies are stark and haunting -- raw, even; not a sweet sound at all, but Lord, what feelings. It was powerful; sometimes you’d think Jesus and the Holy Ghost both were there singing too. After Sunday church and all that Sacred Harp singing, Lilimay always provided a bountiful meal at noon called "dinner on the grounds” where the preacher or a deacon would say a 15-minute blessing. And if you are a boy, 15 minutes is daylong when you are hungry. Those were the old times and people still act that way if you know where to find them.”

“Red, I need your help.”

Wednesday, November 03, 2004

Undecided

Chapter One

Inside his head, the past family memories continued their ceaseless wailing and screaming. Albert Law scanned the factory floor from his secondary story office window. He viewed the success of his business and his busy workers through his watery eyes. He stood between the floor to ceiling picture window and his plain metal office desk and saw his life achievement as an organic thing that he created that brought him pride and peace of mind. The success of his life stood out below him, providing the best jobs, largest paychecks, and family support in Calhoun County. Inside him, the screams and tortured wails would frighten the workers as if they all had been sent to the depths of hell.

The demons in his mine howled loudly some days, but today they were deafening. The security guards would pull their pistols as if ambushed from behind. The single men would cry for their mothers. The married men would fall down on their knees and pray. The women would begin to vomit in places where their shoes would later slip and slide. The two girls who fell found their jeans soaked up some of the mess would further add to the hysteria and hopelessness on the factory floor.

“My God, what, oh what; why, oh why did it have to turn out this way?” Albert wore the same uniform his employees wore but with one small change to indicate his position of President and Chief Executive Office. Everyone wore brown overalls, which the factory provided. The shirts were either blue or white, but only Albert wore the white shirt, not so much as to indicate rank, but in case some salesman came by, he wanted to be taken seriously. In Tennessee, the white shirt and overalls were worn to fancy events and had, over time, earned the honored name “Tennessee Tuxedo”.

Once a visiting salesman came to his office and they sat there with a couple of other people talking about the product plans and machinery specifications in the upstairs office with its simple furnishings. Simple furnishings, but substantial, old and likely to never wear out. The salesman sent out to get some sodas and while they drank the Cokes, the salesman commented that his grandfather had a blue Tennessee Tuxedo he wore to the Lilimay Church of Christ.

“What Tennessee Tuxedo?” Albert was confused; surely, the salesman wasn’t talking about the early television cartoon where Don Adams was the voice of Tennessee Tuxedo, the wisecracking penguin, with his dim-witted pal, Chumley.

“When I was a boy, and that was a long time ago. My grandfather would wear what he called his Tennessee Tuxedo.’

Albert listened to his story. The room was quiet.

The salesman told him how Grandma starched and ironed the white shirt on Saturday during his summer visits. She washed and dried the overalls, then hung them both up on the same wire hanger. As a boy, they’d ride in the old brown pick-up down River Road to Church every Sunday and never saw men dressed like that until he first met old Mr. Albert Law.

“The funny thing was the men wore their bib overalls over their Sunday cloths. The roads in those days were dirt roads and if it rained, they were mud roads. To keep from getting their church clothes dirty if the truck got stuck, they’d wear overalls on the way, then take them off when they got to church.”

They looked each other in the eyes, smiled, and nodded back and forth a small nod no one would have noticed; it was so slight, unless they were looking for it.