Some people feel, when arguing,
It’s “win at any cost”
But lying to support your case?
You pretty much just lost.
Or spreading someone else’s lies
When you can see what’s true
We see the liar’s character…
What must they think of you? [Read more…]
“No”
She said.
Now
She’s dead.
Start the rush to blame her
Should
Have done
Could
Have done
Denigrate and shame her
Call
The cops
Hope
It stops
Pray he doesn’t batter
Last
Resort
Tell
The court
None of it will matter
“No”
She said
Now
She’s dead
But what the people see, there
In
Her place
But
For grace
All of us could be there.
Much more, after the jump: [Read more…]
A family member of a friend is in a really rough way.
From where I am, there is little to nothing I can do.
Anyway, I figure this is something that is played out across the nation, across the world, hundreds of thousands of times over at least. So while I can’t help this person, I can help somebody’s loved one.
So I’ll be off to the bloodmobile in this person’s name. My blood won’t go to this person, but it will go to someone, or several someones, and might make all the difference in the world.
And I encourage you to do the same, or (if you can’t, for whatever reason) to pass the message along.
In the US, the Red Cross number is 1 800 GIVE LIFE. In case you want to find out where you can give.
Thanks.
For Neil. One of the few who could look up at the moon, and say “yeah, been there.”
[Y]ou don’t by any chance have any “thank-you doctor for your skills and services” type poems hidden away in your ink bladder do you? Living in the Deep South, and getting older, I would like a poetic way to thank the docs and leave the dog out of it.
A brilliant idea. Too brilliant to be selfish about*, so here’s my first draft, which I hereby explicitly make available to anyone who wants to use it (exception: you can’t simply steal it for profit–you can edit, and you can add, but you can’t screw people over). I see the first stanza on the outside of the card, and the rest on the inside, with plenty of room left for you to personalize it for your own particular hospital heroes.
I’ve heard I had an angel who was watching over me
And who saw my operation safely through
But the heroes and the heroines, as far as I can see
Had no wings attached—and so, I’m thanking you.Thank the doctors and the nurses, the technicians, and the staff
Thank their teachers, too, for all that they have done
Thank the EMTs and drivers, thank the folks who made me laugh
Thank the donors—even those who think it’s fun.
Thank the people on computers making sure it all goes well
Thank the bureaucrats who made it go at all
Thank the people I’ve forgotten (likely more than I can tell)
Thank you, all of you, for answering my call.
I have a few photos that could go along with this, but not on this computer. If you make any, please share them here!
(If you have suggestions for categories, or for rhymes, feel free to send them. Can you improve on my rhyme? I don’t doubt it for a minute–but if you can, do! What other situations need atheist thank you–or other–cards?)
*This is why I never make any money off of my poems.
Perhaps the most frustrating aspect (at my privileged distance) of the Sikh Temple shooting, is the obsession with the differences between Sikhs and Muslims. Intentional or not, the implication is clear; it would be understandable if someone shot up a Muslim mosque.
No.
A guest post today from John Donne. The context was different, and this is an excerpt (albeit the best-known excerpt) from a larger meditation (Meditation XVII–Nunc Lento Sonitu Dicunt, Morieris (Now this bell, tolling softly for another, says to me, Thou must die.))
No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend’s were.
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.
She wants a western life—for shame! For shame!
Rejecting our beliefs, she wants to fly;
How dare she bring dishonor to our name.
Correcting her delusion soon became
Our sacred task—I can’t imagine why
She wants a western life—for shame! For shame!
But western news reports held us to blame,
And forced us to dissemble and deny!
How dare she bring dishonor to our name!
A daughter should be ours, to break or tame,
But no, she claims her rights—she dares to cry
“I want a western life”—for shame! For shame!
If her beliefs and ours are not the same
She is not fit to live, in Allah’s eye—
How dare she bring dishonor to our name.
Our honor was at stake! Such was our aim,
We had no other choice—she had to die.
She wanted western life—for shame! For shame!
How dare she bring dishonor to our name
British court convicts parents in ‘honor’ murder
The parents of a 17-year-old girl will spend at least 25 years in a British prison for the death of their daughter after the couple’s conviction Friday for killing her over her desire to live a Westernized lifestyle and become an attorney, a court spokeswoman said Friday.
Chester Crown Court Judge Roderick Evans sentenced Iftikhar and Farzana Ahmed to life in prison. He said the couple, who were originally from Pakistan, must be imprisoned for at least 25 years before being eligible for parole.
The sentence came hours after the court found them guilty of murder in the death of Shafilea Ahmed. The girl’s dismembered body was found on a riverbank in February 2004, months after she disappeared in 2003.
Go read the whole thing. I don’t think I can report it here and stay coherent.
So today, I had a visit to my blog from someone using the search term “a person has severed her finger what do you do first”.
My question is, what conceivable circumstance under which you are searching for that phrase, would you see “The Digital Cuttlefish” in your results and decide I think I’ll click this one!”.
(Oddly enough, when I search for “a person has severed her finger what do you do first” on Google, one of my posts does show up on page one. So at least our intrepid searcher did not waste time looking beyond there.)
I do hope that among the top three things that were done were A) apply pressure to the wound to minimize bleeding, B) find the severed digit and put it on ice, and C) call 911 (ok, in truth that originally read “dial 911”, which simply shows that I am old). This is not advice–this is my list of at least three things I would do before hopping onto Google and asking. I could be wrong.
I genuinely hope all is well with whoever is the reason for that particular search. I do feel just a bit horrible that my blog might conceivably have been a distraction along the way.
Oh, and if anyone knows the actual real answer to “what do you do first”, consider posting it here, and I’ll happily add it to this post, just for future searchers.
It’s been another year.
It’s after midnight.
That makes it July 27th. The day my brother died, 2 years ago. As close to a holy day as I get.
I may or may not post today–hard to say. Well, one, I know, in around 12 hours, but more than that I don’t.
For now… Here’s to you, bro.
*sobs*