If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

“Oomf indeed . . . So you had the tape, and you want us to believe that you did not look at it. Well, I think we’re all pretty aware of the NFL’s obsessive-compulsive tape-watching addictions . . . you get 24 angles in high-res slow-motion just to see whether or not a man’s knee goes over an imaginary line before his hand crosses a different imaginary line.” ~ Jon Stewart on Ray Rice controversy and NFL response, “The Daily Show” (August 10, 2014)

Friday morning. Showers, cooler temperatures, 75 degrees.

Sleepus interruptus once again. I hope it doesn’t take me a week to get used to Corey being gone before I can fall asleep. Had dreams, remember singing at one point, but don’t remember details. Very sick last night, unexpected/unexplained purging. It felt like food poisoning, except I hadn’t eaten all day because I forgot. Nerves?

Oh well . . .

Anyway, sorry I missed last week’s leftovers, but the truth is that I actually only had one item set aside, so you really didn’t miss anything. Here’s hoping that this week’s offering makes up for last week’s dearth of posts. Perhaps an overflowing of posts, a veritable plethora . . .

Oh well . . .

No comment needed:

No comment wanted:

Fox and Friends prove once again that they are clueless after commenting on the Ray Price domestic abuse video was released by TMZ (I’m not posting the video of the assault as it needs no more publicity). According to the Huffington Post, “The footage, captured in February in the elevator of the Revel Hotel and Casino in Atlantic City, shows Rice knock Janay Palmer off her feet with a blow to the head”:

Regarding Baltimore Ravens running back Ray Rice punching his wife in an elevator, Fox and Friends cast focused on the victims, once again: “Without giving many details about the assault, the hosts quickly began comparing the incident to other cases of domestic violence among celebrities. But rather than putting any kind of blame on the abuser, the co-hosts pointed the finger at the women.”

Co-host Brian Kilmeade’s comment was this: “I think the message is, take the stairs.”

Seriously, Kilmeade? I think the message is that you are a whole lot of stupid, with shades of moron on top . . .

They need to take a page out of VP Joe Biden’s book:

It’s never, never, never the woman’s fault. No man has a right to raise a hand to a woman. No means no. [...] The one regret I have is we call it domestic violence as if it’s a domesticated cat. It is the most vicious form of violence there is, because not only the physical scars are left, the psychological scars that are left. This whole culture for so long has put the onus on the woman. What were you wearing? What did you say? What did you do to provoke? That is never the appropriate question. (Interview with Tamron Hall, August 9, 2014)

Does knowing this make them taste better?

 

 

JK Rowling owns Twitter:

@jk_rowling once u revealed Dumbledore was homosexual I stopped being a fan. Nice how u blindsided us with that one. Enjoy your billion $.

@halfelven55ff I advise you to start following Brian Souter at once. He’s much more your kind of person.

This is actually a thing, a real thing, for those who want to look like Hannibal Lecter:

Useless Inventions 4 - https://www.facebook.com/diplyofficialA Lipstick Assistant

From Cake Wrecks: What the Bride ordered, and what she actually received:

ordered

received

ordered

received

Now that’s an ingenious license plate:

I’ve seen dogs do a lot of things, but dancing to hip hop is a new one for me . . .

From George Takei’s tumblr:

 Wouldn’t it be cool to look out your bedroom window and see this?

Artvin Province, Beyazsu Yaylası (Highpasture), Türkiye

I luuuuv this story:

And finally, since I opened the week with information on Suicide Prevention Week, I thought that I’d close with a success story:

“And now the haunted uprisen wailing call, | And again, and now the beautiful sane laughter.” ~ David Wagoner, from “Loons Mating”

In the Mount Saint Helen National VOlcanic Monument from Connie a Wandering Soul

In the Mount Saint Helen National Volcanic Monument from Connie a Wandering Soul


Two for Tuesday: Remembrance

Tuesday early morning. More storms on the horizon, a bit warmer, 77 degrees.

Hello again. I apologize for the length of yesterday’s post, but I had so much to say and so much that I wanted to share that the whole thing just got away from me, but really, I’m not sorry, because the message was important, the information needed. Much like ALS finally receiving some notable publicity via the ice bucket challenges, perhaps more attention will be paid to suicide as a result of Robin Williams’s suicide.

Perhaps, but I doubt it. Suicide remains shameful, something not to be talked about, which, I suppose, is why I chose to talk about it so much.

Anyway, the Balgach poem below was originally going with yesterday’s post, but I felt that two poems was overkill, as it were, so here it is, along with another one I just found by Noel Coward, and I must admit that for some reason, I never equated Coward with poetry, only plays. Just goes to show how much you don’t know when you think you know everything.

Enjoy.

                    

Barbwire from Connie A Wandering Soul

Barbwire from Connie A Wandering Soul

What Holds Us

This morning I listened to the first birds of spring.
Even those birds bear the weight of time on their shoulders.
I have come from the ends of the universe to tell you this. Right now
I am so present that my breaths feel like knives
and these recollections are as loud
as a stranger’s footsteps on a quiet street.
Yesterday I recited the names of every dead person I know
because each day their names are spoken less. Everyone gets forgotten.
We each forget something about ourselves,
every day. It doesn’t matter. In the afternoon,
even on cold afternoons, birds sing their truths like birds
and I long to be as original as a first kiss.
I don’t know why I am trying to tell your heart
to hear its own tick. Tomorrow is going to come like lightning.
I’ll be breathing down some stranger’s neck,
pacing old footsteps over the same sidewalk I walked yesterday,
wondering what to eat for supper.
Such tired tunes make all of us go round
like ponies at the fair. Nobody deserves anything
but we want so much. Only nothing holds us forever.

~ Martin Balgach

                   

Abandoned from Connie A Wandering Soul

Abandoned from Connie A Wandering Soul

Nothing is Lost

Deep in our sub-conscious, we are told
Lie all our memories, lie all the notes
Of all the music we have ever heard
And all the phrases those we loved have spoken,
Sorrows and losses time has since consoled,
Family jokes, out-moded anecdotes
Each sentimental souvenir and token
Everything seen, experienced, each word
Addressed to us in infancy, before
Before we could even know or understand
The implications of our wonderland.
There they all are, the legendary lies
The birthday treats, the sights, the sounds, the tears
Forgotten debris of forgotten years
Waiting to be recalled, waiting to rise
Before our world dissolves before our eyes
Waiting for some small, intimate reminder,
A word, a tune, a known familiar scent
An echo from the past when, innocent
We looked upon the present with delight
And doubted not the future would be kinder
And never knew the loneliness of night.

~ Noel Coward

                    

Music by The Soundtrack of Our Lives, “Second Life Replay”

Images are taken from Connie – A Wandering Soul tumblr.

If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

Welcome to this Friday’s edition of leftovers. I’ve gone to great lengths to assimilate tidbits from the interwebs for your viewing and reading pleasure. I highly recommend a dry white wine to accompany this week’s dose of snark and sass. Please sit back, turn off your cell phones, and enjoy . . .

This week’s headline:

“Did you just ‘He who smelt it, dealt it’ racism? Did you really?” ~ Jon Stewart, “The Daily Show” (8-26-14)

Watch it:

One more headline on world issues because it really helps to put things in perspective:

“I hate when women wear the wrong foundation color, it might be the worst thing on the planet when they wear their makeup too light.” ~ Kim Kardashian, world-renowned spokesperson for everything from the asinine to the insipid

Since I missed it on Tuesday:

I told you, Corey.

LMAO:
Photo: Oh, I'm sorry. Did I break your concentration?

Oxford comma all the way!

So this is where those crop circles originated:

This is actually a thing, and it costs about five bucks:

public toilet

 

How cool is this?

Being passive aggressive at work:

So I found this site called Cake Wrecks . . . almost as good as the bad tweets:

That’s right . . . imagine being able to spell achieve . . .

Um . . . too literal?

Obviously I cannot draw any puzzle pieces, but I can draw your request for some instead . . .

Apparently, someone got a promotion, and the request was for a ladder with a stick person climbing up . . . oh my . . .

Silly, silly man. Never tell a woman what to do . . .

Do yourself a favor, go here and read all of the comments and questions on this baby. Just don’t do it with a mouthful of coffee . . . very hard to get off screen . . .

Samsung UN85S9 85-Inch 4K Ultra HD 120Hz 3D Smart LED TV

Samsung UN85S9 85-Inch 4K Ultra HD 120Hz 3D Smart LED TV
$39,997.99

And finally, reaffirmation that love, honor, and respect still hold sway in some corners of the world:

“I come from a place where breath, eyes and memory are one, a place from which you carry your past like the hair on your head. Where women return to their children as butterflies or as tears in the eyes of the statues that their daughters pray to.” ~ Edwidge Danticat, from Breath, Eyes, Memory

Rockwell Kent illustrations from Moby Dick

Rockwell Kent Illustration from Moby Dick (published by The Modern Library, 1982)


“I wish you what I wish
myself: hard questions
and the nights to answer them,
the grace of disappointment
and the right to seem the fool
for justice. That’s enough.
Cowards might ask for more.
Heroes have died for less.” ~ Samuel Hazo, from “To a Commencement of Scoundrels”

Wednesday afternoon. Partly cloudy, 80 degrees.

This morning after I went back to bed to try to get some lost sleep I had a very strange dream in which I was on vacation on an island with a bunch of rich people who I didn’t know all that well. I decided I really needed to fly home, so I went to the airport and made arrangements. Apparently, I was flying in a private cabin that was stocked with liquor. I didn’t even ask how much it would cost. Obviously, a dream.

So I’ve realized something: I like doing these posts that contain content from other sites. I like them, so there’s no reason why I should stop doing them.

I had thought that it meant that I wasn’t being true to myself because I wasn’t writing the content, but you know what? I can write a nice introduction and still share with you some of the amazing things I find on these interwebs, things that make all of the other banal crap just fade away.

So there’s that . . .

Also, I have to do a lot of cleaning today because Corey comes home tomorrow. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to make his flight today, which means one less day for us to have together. I realized last night that I’m spending half of my time alone now, and to be truthful, I really haven’t figured out how I feel about that.

Anyway, enjoy.

More later. Peace.

                   

The small things that are really big things:

Something beautiful from beauty // terror:

Always remember . . .

                   

The Conversations I Remember Most

The way a sweet cake wants
a little salt in it,
or blackness a little gray nearby to be seen,
or a pot unused remains good for boiling water,

the conversations I remember most
are the ones that were interrupted.

Wait, you say, running after them,
I forgot to ask—

Night rain, they answer.
Silver on the fire-thorn’s red berries.

~ Jane Hirshfield

                   

Music by Ruu Campbell, “The Call”