Year: 2003
Mist, Rain, and Spin
Posted on December 7, 2003 in Neighborhood Weather
A brown haze has parked itself on the alluvial plain beneath Portola Hills.
I am not Violent — Oh, Violet. OK
Posted on December 7, 2003 in Quizzes
#EE82EE |
Your dominant hues are red and blue. You’re confident and like showing people new ideas. You play well with others and can be very influential if you want to be. Your saturation level is lower than average – You don’t stress out over things and don’t understand people who do. Finishing projects may sometimes be a challenge, but you schedule time as you see fit and the important things all happen in the end, even if not everyone sees your grand master plan. Your outlook on life is bright. You see good things in situations where others may not be able to, and it frustrates you to see them get down on everything. |
I do stress out….
Another Goodie
Posted on December 7, 2003 in Culture
Anyone else remember this program and its near hit closing theme?
Right Wing Terrorism at Home
Posted on December 7, 2003 in Terrorism
The Bush Administration does not want any airplay which makes the Right look like an Enemy of the American People that outclasses the worst of the Weathermen
The New Holocaust
Posted on December 7, 2003 in Accountability Class Insurance
The decision as to what is necessary and unnecessary is a private one, to be made by the patient and the doctor, not by medically untrained outsiders.
Statistics
Posted on December 7, 2003 in Site News
Who will be the one hundredth commentator on Paths of Light? Who will be number 2500 at Pax Nortona?
Abraham Lincoln
Posted on December 7, 2003 in Citizenship
You — an ordinary citizen — could make an appointment at the White House and talk to the man himself.
Two People Framing an Excursion
Posted on December 5, 2003 in Biomes Encounters Neighborhood
Fifty steps down into Whiting Wilderness, I saw a tiny monogamous or perhaps unmarried California Mouse crossing the trail.
Dream
Posted on December 5, 2003 in Dreams
It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?
Lynn and I find ourselves in a place where the skeletons rise out of the graveyard and the slaves of the dead cull victims from among the living. It’s the night when they do this and we’ve been let off the bus with dozens of other travelers. They have us line up and take beds that have been set up on top of marble slabs in a terraced cemetery.
I know that they will kill all of us if they can. So I start praying, chanting, declaiming. The Our Father, the Hail Mary, the Act of Contrition. Then I start a litany of saints: St. Peter: Pray for Us. St. Felicity: Pray for Us. St. Francis of Assisi: Pray for Us. Buddha: Pray for Us. Gandhi: Pray for Us. Mother Teresa: Pray for Us. Dorothy Day: Pray for Us.
Some people pray with me. I keep up the litany while we stand in a cafeteria line. I find that if I reach over the glass, the workers who are enslaved by the spirits shrink away from my power.
