Tonight on Nightline the names of the 725 U.S. soldiers killed in Iraq will be read. The program is entitled “The Fallen.”
From the Nightline website:
The war in Iraq began on March 19, 2003. Since that day, according to the Department of Defense, 725 Americans have been killed in Iraq. We think it is only fitting that for one night, we present their names. All we would hope is that all of you who watch will take a moment at least to think about that sacrifice.
Real life has overpowered my ability to blog in any coherent fashion.
I’m calling this short period of time a bloppage because it stands to reason that I would call it a work stoppage if I discontinued any forward momentum at work. Since I’m not doing much on the blog this week, then that would be a blog stoppage, right? And since everything gets shortened on the ‘Net, it stands to reason to use the word bloppage. I’m also calling it a bloppage because it is a really fun word to say three times fast.
On most Saturdays, I try to listen to Prairie Home Companion on my local public radio station. Early in my college years, I discovered the writings of Garrison Keillor, the host of Prairie Home Companion. He is an amazing storyteller, writer, and entertainer.
The last weekend’s show may not be the most representative of Mr. Keillor’s talents, but it was quite funny because it was the Annual Joke Show. The PHC website describes the show as “the performance when we expose our live audience and radio listeners to near-toxic levels of pure, uncut jokes.”
It’s worth a listen if you have a good Internet connection, an hour, and the same sense of humor that I do.
Click here to LISTEN to the show.
If you don’t have a good connection or an hour, you can read all of the jokes online.
Click here to READ ALL the jokes from the show.
My favorites:
A mushroom walked into a bar and bought everyone drinks. He was a fun gi to have around.
Did you hear a guy was murdered in town last night? Police found the victim face down in his bathtub, which was filled with milk, cornflakes, and sugar. They think it was a cereal killer.
There were two fish in a tank and one turns to the other and says, “Do you know how to drive this thing?
Why do ducks have webbed feet?
To stamp out fires.
Why do elephants have flat feet?
To stamp out burning ducks.
Why are elephants big, wrinkled, large, gray, hairy?
Because if they were small, white, smooth, round, and hairless, they’d be aspirin tablets.
The man who wrote the Hokey-Pokey died peacefully at age 93. The most traumatic part for his family was getting him into his coffin. They put his left leg in. Then the trouble started.
How does the blind parachutist know when he’s getting close to the ground?
The leash goes slack.
Ole was first dating Lena, and he took her to New Ulm. In the restaurant Ole said, “Hey, Lena, would you like a cocktail before dinner?” “Oh, no, Ole,” said Lena. “What would I tell my Sunday School class?”
After dinner, he said, “Hey, would you like a cigarette?” “Oh, no, Ole,” said Lena. “What would I tell my Sunday School class?”
Ole vas driving Lena home when they passed the Romeo Motel. He said, “Hey, Lena, how would you like to stop at that motel with me?” “Yah, Ole, dot would be nice,” said Lena.
Ole asked, “But vat are you going to tell your Sunday School class?” “The same ting I always tell them. You don’t have to smoke and drink to have a good time!”
After all these years, I see that I was mistaken about Eve in the beginning; it is better to live outside the Garden with her than inside it without her.
This one of my most favorite quotes from a book, well, short story. It is from Mark Twain’s Extract from Adam’s Diary and Eve’s Diary.
Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love.
In recent weeks, I have seen love in a kind word, a passing glance, a heartfelt conversation, and a funny comment or two. In sad eyes, in a child’s delighted face, in a tired soul, in a voice of hello, and in a simple goodbye.
I feel ill-suited to add much to the topic with my owns words. Words fail me. How does one tell someone about love when it is better to show it?
I guess the telling part has been attempted many times with surprising success, but I’ll leave that to Shakespeare and every artist who ever recorded for MoTown. As far as I’m concerned, the best source for the telling about love is in the Bible.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.
I Corinthians 13 - New International Version
This is the full passage from The Message (a modern paraphrase of the Scriptures). Read it. Then read it again.
If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate.
If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing.
If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.
Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.Love never dies. Inspired speech will be over some day; praying in tongues will end; understanding will reach its limit. We know only a portion of the truth, and what we say about God is always incomplete. But when the Complete arrives, our incompletes will be canceled.
When I was an infant at my mother’s breast, I gurgled and cooed like any infant. When I grew up, I left those infant ways for good.
We don’t yet see things clearly. We’re squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won’t be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We’ll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!
But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love.
A meme in blogging terms is simply an idea that is shared and passed from blog to blog.
The meme lineage from whence I learned this is: The Happy Husband :: CoffeSwirls :: TulipGirl.
Here’s the instructions:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 23.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
All of my books are on the shelf, so I picked one randomly.
“Holding the bolt still with a 10 mm wrench (if the bolt turns, the wire may kink), tighten the yoke anchor nut.” — From Bicycle Repair Manual
I personally prefer the beginning of the first sentence from page 23: “Insert the cable wire nipple into the brake lever…” Sounds painful, huh? It’s really not. Simple procedure.
Let’s play again… back to the shelf… eyes closed… random pick…
“His face froze for a second or two and then began to do that terribly slow crashing trick that Arctic ice floes do so spectacularly in the spring.” — Arthur Dent realizes that the Earth will be destroyed again in two days’ time. From Life, The Universe and Everything by Douglas Adams.
Curt seems to have a more uplifting selection of books.
I had mentioned on Friday that I would take some pictures of the wildflowers of Texas on a drive to Houston.
I’m sorry to say that I didn’t get any wildflower pictures. The colorful flowers were in abundance along the roadside. I just never stopped to take any pictures.
I typically would see a great patch of flowers just as I was passing it, but I believe that, in general, Texans frown upon the skidding to an awkward stop in order to capture a photo of the wildflowers which are by now 53 feet back up the highway.
This, of course, is a common practice at this time of year in these parts. However, I like to pretend, especially when I’m close to my hometown, that the person skidding off the road ahead of me must have only recently moved to the Great State. This pretense only slightly reduces the embarrassment of knowing that I might be related to the idiot who is currently careening across the shoulder of the road and startling the cows in the field.
I’ll try to get a few shots this week before the flowers start to disappear. There are incredible bright shades of yellows, blues, pinks, and reds mixed with the greens and browns of the grasses. Makes me thank God that I was born as a Texan. Amen.
In other flower-related news: The 5th Annual Red Poppy Festival will be held in my hometown of Georgetown, Texas, on April 23-25th. I’ll get some pictures of the poppies as well.
The poppies that grow in Georgetown are descended from the poppies of Flanders, Holland, which were made popular in the poem by John McCrae. As I look through the headlines of the newspaper, the words of the poem seem hauntingly appropriate.
In Flanders Fields
by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MDIN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place, and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
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Giving the XTerra a bath at the local automatic carwash. Nobody was working at the carwash. Yeah.
