Remember the adage: "Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it . "
"If you put the federal government in charge of the Sahara Desert ,in five years there’d be a shortage of sand . ” Milton Friedman
Send this on.............
Saturday, August 20, 2011
This cartoon was in the Chicago Tribune in 1934. Look carefully at the plan of action in the lower left corner.
Remember the adage: "Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it . "
"If you put the federal government in charge of the Sahara Desert ,in five years there’d be a shortage of sand . ” Milton Friedman
Send this on.............
Remember the adage: "Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it . "
"If you put the federal government in charge of the Sahara Desert ,in five years there’d be a shortage of sand . ” Milton Friedman
Send this on.............
Friday, August 19, 2011
Change your underwear ... From a good Dension co-worker
There's an old sea story
about a ship's Captain who inspected
his sailors and afterward told the first mate that his men smelled bad...
The Captain suggested perhaps it
would help if his men changed underwear occasionally.
The first mate responded,
"Aye, aye sir, I'll see to it immediately!"
The first mate went straight to the sailors berth deck and announced,
"The Captain thinks you guys smell bad and wants you to change your underwear."
He continued, "Pittman, you change with Jones, McCarthy, you change with Witkowski
and Brown, you change with Schultz."
THE MORAL OF THE STORY:
Someone may come along and promise "Change",
but Don't count on things smelling any better!
A long but wonderful dog story Thanks Terry Krause!
WARNING, If you don’t like dogs or stories that bring tears, better delete this one.
They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.> >
But something was still missing as I attempted to settle into my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look like "Lab people," whatever that meant. They must've thought I did.
But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous owner. See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.
For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls --- he wouldn't go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn't really think he'd need all his old stuff, that I'd get him new things once he settled in. But it became pretty clear pretty soon that he wasn't going to.
I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like "sit" and "stay" and "come" and "heel," and he'd follow them - when he felt like it. He never really seemed to listen when I called his name --- sure, he'd look in my direction after the fourth or fifth time I said it, but then he'd just go back to doing whatever. When I'd ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey.
This just wasn't going to work. He chewed a couple shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell. The friction got so bad that I couldn't wait for the two weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cell phone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the "damn dog probably hid it on me."
Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter's number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter. I tossed the pad in Reggie's direction and he snuffed it and wagged, the most enthusiasm I'd seen since bringing him home. But then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come here and I'll give you a treat." Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction --- maybe "glared" is more accurate --- and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down ... with his back to me.
Well, that's not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the shelter phone number.
But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that, too. "Okay, Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if your previous owner has any advice."
______________________________ _________
To Whoever Gets My Dog: Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner. I'm not even happy writing it. If you're reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time...it's like he knew something was wrong. And something is wrong...which is why I have to go to try to make it right.
So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.
First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he's part squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't matter where you throw them, he'll bound after it, so be careful - really don't do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him dearly.
Next, commands. Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I'll go over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones --- "sit," "stay," "come," "heel." He knows hand signals: "back" to turn around and go back when you put your hand straight up; and "over" if you put your hand out right or left. "Shake" for shaking water off, and "paw" for a high-five. He does "down" when he feels like lying down --- I bet you could work on that with him some more. He knows "ball" and "food" and "bone" and "treat" like nobody's business.
I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of hot dog.
Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.
He's up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info with yours; they'll make sure to send you reminders for when he's due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don't know how he knows when it's time to go to the vet, but he knows.
Finally, give him some time. I've never been married, so it's only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He's gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.
Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new.
And that's why I need to share one more bit of info with you.... His name's not Reggie.
I don't know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them his name was Reggie. He's a smart dog, he'll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn't bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I'd never see him again. And if I end up coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything's fine. But if someone else is reading it, well ... well, it means that his new owner should know his real name. It'll help you bond with him. Who knows, maybe you'll even notice a change in his demeanor if he's been giving you problems.
His real name is "Tank"…… Because that is what I drive.
Again, if you're reading this and you're from the area, maybe my name has been on the news. I told the shelter that they couldn't make "Reggie" available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. See, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could've left Tank with .... and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq , that they make one phone call to the shelter ... in the "event" ... to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my colonel is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he'd do it personally. And if you're reading this, then he made good on his word.
Well, this letter is getting downright depressing, even though, frankly, I'm just writing it for my dog. I couldn't imagine if I was writing it for a wife and kids and family ... but still, Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family.
And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.
That unconditional love from a dog is what I take with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people from those who would do terrible things ... and to keep those terrible people from coming over here. If I have to give up Tank in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.
All right, that's enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. I don't think I'll say another good-bye to Tank, though. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I'll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.
Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me.
Thank you, Paul Mallory
_____________________________________
I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.
I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.
"Hey, Tank," I said quietly… The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.
"C ‘mere boy."
He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn't heard in months.
"Tank," I whispered… His tail swished.
I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood over him… I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.
"It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me." Tank reached up and licked my cheek. "So whaddaya say we play some ball?" His ears perked again. "Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?" Tank tore from my hands and disappeared in the next room.
And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.
If you can read this without getting a lump in your throat or a tear in your eye….I won't send you anymore emails,……Because you just ain't right!!!!
A veteran is someone who…. At one point in his or her life…Wrote a blank check made payable to 'The United States of America' for an amount of 'up to… And including their own life.'
This email was cleaned by emailStripper, available for free from http://www.papercut.biz/emailStripper.htm
They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.> >
But something was still missing as I attempted to settle into my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look like "Lab people," whatever that meant. They must've thought I did.
But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous owner. See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.
For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls --- he wouldn't go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn't really think he'd need all his old stuff, that I'd get him new things once he settled in. But it became pretty clear pretty soon that he wasn't going to.
I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like "sit" and "stay" and "come" and "heel," and he'd follow them - when he felt like it. He never really seemed to listen when I called his name --- sure, he'd look in my direction after the fourth or fifth time I said it, but then he'd just go back to doing whatever. When I'd ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey.
This just wasn't going to work. He chewed a couple shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell. The friction got so bad that I couldn't wait for the two weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cell phone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the "damn dog probably hid it on me."
Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter's number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter. I tossed the pad in Reggie's direction and he snuffed it and wagged, the most enthusiasm I'd seen since bringing him home. But then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come here and I'll give you a treat." Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction --- maybe "glared" is more accurate --- and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down ... with his back to me.
Well, that's not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the shelter phone number.
But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that, too. "Okay, Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if your previous owner has any advice."
______________________________ _________
To Whoever Gets My Dog: Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner. I'm not even happy writing it. If you're reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time...it's like he knew something was wrong. And something is wrong...which is why I have to go to try to make it right.
So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.
First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he's part squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't matter where you throw them, he'll bound after it, so be careful - really don't do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him dearly.
Next, commands. Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I'll go over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones --- "sit," "stay," "come," "heel." He knows hand signals: "back" to turn around and go back when you put your hand straight up; and "over" if you put your hand out right or left. "Shake" for shaking water off, and "paw" for a high-five. He does "down" when he feels like lying down --- I bet you could work on that with him some more. He knows "ball" and "food" and "bone" and "treat" like nobody's business.
I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of hot dog.
Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.
He's up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info with yours; they'll make sure to send you reminders for when he's due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don't know how he knows when it's time to go to the vet, but he knows.
Finally, give him some time. I've never been married, so it's only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He's gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.
Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new.
And that's why I need to share one more bit of info with you.... His name's not Reggie.
I don't know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them his name was Reggie. He's a smart dog, he'll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn't bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I'd never see him again. And if I end up coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything's fine. But if someone else is reading it, well ... well, it means that his new owner should know his real name. It'll help you bond with him. Who knows, maybe you'll even notice a change in his demeanor if he's been giving you problems.
His real name is "Tank"…… Because that is what I drive.
Again, if you're reading this and you're from the area, maybe my name has been on the news. I told the shelter that they couldn't make "Reggie" available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. See, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could've left Tank with .... and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq , that they make one phone call to the shelter ... in the "event" ... to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my colonel is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he'd do it personally. And if you're reading this, then he made good on his word.
Well, this letter is getting downright depressing, even though, frankly, I'm just writing it for my dog. I couldn't imagine if I was writing it for a wife and kids and family ... but still, Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family.
And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.
That unconditional love from a dog is what I take with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people from those who would do terrible things ... and to keep those terrible people from coming over here. If I have to give up Tank in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.
All right, that's enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. I don't think I'll say another good-bye to Tank, though. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I'll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.
Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me.
Thank you, Paul Mallory
_____________________________________
I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.
I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.
"Hey, Tank," I said quietly… The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.
"C ‘mere boy."
He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn't heard in months.
"Tank," I whispered… His tail swished.
I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood over him… I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.
"It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me." Tank reached up and licked my cheek. "So whaddaya say we play some ball?" His ears perked again. "Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?" Tank tore from my hands and disappeared in the next room.
And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.
If you can read this without getting a lump in your throat or a tear in your eye….I won't send you anymore emails,……Because you just ain't right!!!!
A veteran is someone who…. At one point in his or her life…Wrote a blank check made payable to 'The United States of America' for an amount of 'up to… And including their own life.'
This email was cleaned by emailStripper, available for free from http://www.papercut.biz/emailStripper.htm
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Be what you see for yourself ... Thanks Bob Looney!
The more time you spend feeling sorry for yourself,
The more things you'll have to be sorry about.
If you insist on seeing yourself as a victim, you'll
End up experiencing your life as a victim.
It doesn't have to be that way. Because you can
Choose right now, and every day, to see yourself
In a positive, empowering light.
The way you see yourself is up to you. It doesn't
Have anything to do with the circumstances you happen
To be facing. See yourself as the unique, beautiful,
Creative and effective person you know you are.
See yourself as a bundle of positive, inspiring and
Meaningful possibilities that are well on their way
To being fulfilled. See that you are able to
Successfully handle whatever life sends your way.
See that you are able to thrive and grow and make
Positive meaning out of the world in which you live.
See yourself as constantly moving forward through
It all, with love and joy and purpose.
And what you see, you will be.
The more things you'll have to be sorry about.
If you insist on seeing yourself as a victim, you'll
End up experiencing your life as a victim.
It doesn't have to be that way. Because you can
Choose right now, and every day, to see yourself
In a positive, empowering light.
The way you see yourself is up to you. It doesn't
Have anything to do with the circumstances you happen
To be facing. See yourself as the unique, beautiful,
Creative and effective person you know you are.
See yourself as a bundle of positive, inspiring and
Meaningful possibilities that are well on their way
To being fulfilled. See that you are able to
Successfully handle whatever life sends your way.
See that you are able to thrive and grow and make
Positive meaning out of the world in which you live.
See yourself as constantly moving forward through
It all, with love and joy and purpose.
And what you see, you will be.
Disgusted with NBC ... Thanks Judi Cole!
Disgusted with NBC ... Thanks Judi Cole!
You have all the right to be offended, Judi and I also am. Disgusting national media and there coddling of islam and ignoring of Christianity.
Sam
I DID NOT SEE THE PROGRAM, BUT THIS COMES FROM A RELIABLE SOURCE.
This morning on the Today Show, Matt Lauer interviewed one of the wives of one of the Navy Seals killed this weekend. He asked her what she would say to her children about their dad and how she would want them to remember him...She said, and I quote, " His love for Christ" and then continued with a few other things...through out the day and on MSN homepage...when the story is replayed they have edited the "Love of Christ" part out...
Why? Because using the word Christ might offend someone...well I am a Christian and I am offended! Offended that they would edit it out. Offended that we as Christians are asked to tread lightly so as not to offend someone of another religion...well I have read the book and guess what...We Win!
I think anyone who missed the original broadcast this morning should know what NBC has done. This man loved his country and loved his God and gave his life for both, just as Christ gave His life for him...
Please feel free to copy this and forward it to everyone on your email list..There are emails that go around saying " If you believe in God" then forward this...well I am starting one..right here, right now...I am not ashamed of God but I am becoming more ashamed of my country...It is time to take a stand.
The Will of GOD will never take you where the Grace of God will not protect you.
"Our task everyday is to learn how to love better"
You have all the right to be offended, Judi and I also am. Disgusting national media and there coddling of islam and ignoring of Christianity.
Sam
I DID NOT SEE THE PROGRAM, BUT THIS COMES FROM A RELIABLE SOURCE.
This morning on the Today Show, Matt Lauer interviewed one of the wives of one of the Navy Seals killed this weekend. He asked her what she would say to her children about their dad and how she would want them to remember him...She said, and I quote, " His love for Christ" and then continued with a few other things...through out the day and on MSN homepage...when the story is replayed they have edited the "Love of Christ" part out...
Why? Because using the word Christ might offend someone...well I am a Christian and I am offended! Offended that they would edit it out. Offended that we as Christians are asked to tread lightly so as not to offend someone of another religion...well I have read the book and guess what...We Win!
I think anyone who missed the original broadcast this morning should know what NBC has done. This man loved his country and loved his God and gave his life for both, just as Christ gave His life for him...
Please feel free to copy this and forward it to everyone on your email list..There are emails that go around saying " If you believe in God" then forward this...well I am starting one..right here, right now...I am not ashamed of God but I am becoming more ashamed of my country...It is time to take a stand.
The Will of GOD will never take you where the Grace of God will not protect you.
"Our task everyday is to learn how to love better"
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Why I am so depressed ... Thanks Nita Elliott!
I may even have posted a similar one on the blog, Nita, but I certainly appreciate your contributions to the blog!
Sam
Subject: Fw: WHY I'M SO DEPRESSED!!!
----.just a joke
Over five thousand years ago, Moses said to the children of Israel , "Pick up your shovels, mount your asses and camels, and I will lead you to the Promised Land."
Nearly 75 years ago, (when Welfare was introduced) Roosevelt said, "Lay down your shovels, sit on your asses, and light up a Camel, this is the Promised Land."
Today, Congress has stolen your shovel, taxed your asses, raised the price of Camels and mortgaged the Promised Land!
I was so depressed last night thinking about Health Care Plans, the economy, the wars, lost jobs, savings, Social Security, retirement funds, etc . .. . I called a Suicide Hotline.
I had to press 1 for English.
I was connected to a call center in Pakistan. I told them I was suicidal. They got excited and asked if I could drive a truck......
Folks, we're screwed
Sam
Subject: Fw: WHY I'M SO DEPRESSED!!!
----.just a joke
Over five thousand years ago, Moses said to the children of Israel , "Pick up your shovels, mount your asses and camels, and I will lead you to the Promised Land."
Nearly 75 years ago, (when Welfare was introduced) Roosevelt said, "Lay down your shovels, sit on your asses, and light up a Camel, this is the Promised Land."
Today, Congress has stolen your shovel, taxed your asses, raised the price of Camels and mortgaged the Promised Land!
I was so depressed last night thinking about Health Care Plans, the economy, the wars, lost jobs, savings, Social Security, retirement funds, etc . .. . I called a Suicide Hotline.
I had to press 1 for English.
I was connected to a call center in Pakistan. I told them I was suicidal. They got excited and asked if I could drive a truck......
Folks, we're screwed
Columbus Dispatch- Forum A11-2011 08 17
I first want to be known as a Christian, albeit a hypocritical one, but I would like to call the readers' (both of you) attention to today's Columbus Dispatch Forum page- two special columns- one by Joe Nocera, and one by Thomas Sowell. They are right-leaning.
Mr. Nocera speaks of Howard Schultz' recent email "Leading through uncertain times ..." Joe says: "it is not just another plea for compromise and cuivility ... It is hard headed and practical, the kind of idea you would expect from a good businessman."
Mr. Sowell says among many other things:
" Philadelphia's black mayor , Michael A. Nutter, ... "Pull up your pants and buy a belt 'cause no one wants to see your underwear or the crack of your butt. If you walk into somebody's office with your hair uncombed and a pick in the back, and your shoes untied, and your pants half down, tatoos up and down your arms and on your neck, and you wonder why someone won't hire you? They don't hire 'cause you look like your'e crazy. You have damaged your own race."
I would be thrilled to hear the Columbus mayor Coleman or the PUSA say sonmething intelligent (although quite racist), like that. Instead, they encourage the mob action of the young blacks just as Jesse Jackson does.
Portsmouth Ohio has great black athletes out of our past who have become professionals but they largely say things to uplift the black race which they are a great part of. I speak here of Larry Hisle, Al Oliver, Chuck Ealy, Dr. Chet Corbitt, just a few of so many other fine black men.
God bless the good of this country who have so much to straighten out of our many joint mistakes.
SamKat aka Sam Kegley
Mr. Nocera speaks of Howard Schultz' recent email "Leading through uncertain times ..." Joe says: "it is not just another plea for compromise and cuivility ... It is hard headed and practical, the kind of idea you would expect from a good businessman."
Mr. Sowell says among many other things:
" Philadelphia's black mayor , Michael A. Nutter, ... "Pull up your pants and buy a belt 'cause no one wants to see your underwear or the crack of your butt. If you walk into somebody's office with your hair uncombed and a pick in the back, and your shoes untied, and your pants half down, tatoos up and down your arms and on your neck, and you wonder why someone won't hire you? They don't hire 'cause you look like your'e crazy. You have damaged your own race."
I would be thrilled to hear the Columbus mayor Coleman or the PUSA say sonmething intelligent (although quite racist), like that. Instead, they encourage the mob action of the young blacks just as Jesse Jackson does.
Portsmouth Ohio has great black athletes out of our past who have become professionals but they largely say things to uplift the black race which they are a great part of. I speak here of Larry Hisle, Al Oliver, Chuck Ealy, Dr. Chet Corbitt, just a few of so many other fine black men.
God bless the good of this country who have so much to straighten out of our many joint mistakes.
SamKat aka Sam Kegley
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