27 December 2011
The Real "Snakes on a Plane"; 247 snakes, reptiles found in suitcase http://usat.ly/t41prI
247 snakes, reptiles found in suitcase
http://usat.ly/t41prI
http://usat.ly/t41prI
Go Daddy pulls SOPA support...still not enough http://www.washingtonpost.com/business/technology/go-daddy-pulls-sopa-support/2011/12/23/gIQAlVy1DP_story.html?tid=wp_ipad
Go Daddy pulls SOPA support
http://www.washingtonpost.com/business/technology/go-daddy-pulls-sopa-support/2011/12/23/gIQAlVy1DP_story.html?tid=wp_ipad
Pure bottom line response induced by the fear of loosing business but they are still Internet unfriendly and are free Internet unfriendly...seems to me that this would not be my domain registrar if you cared about Internet freedom. Move to 1and1.com for better service pricing and freedom of the Internet
23 December 2011
22 December 2011
I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma
I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"
My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted...."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping.For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church.I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!
I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.
"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby."
The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it.
Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.
Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."
I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.
Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.
Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were -- ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.
My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted...."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping.For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church.I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!
I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.
"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby."
The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it.
Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.
Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."
I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.
Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.
Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were -- ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.
I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.
21 December 2011
SOPA Regulations still looming - the fight is still on
Here's the SOPA Cabana
The SOPA regulations were punted to "mark up"; a small victory but an important one given the original intent by “Hollywood’s Favorite Republican Lamar Smith" was to rush the bill through with just a single hearing. The Bills sponsors even tried to pull a fast one (shame they can't do that with important issues like taxes, the economy, jobs....) and introduced a “new-and-improved” version just before the markup.The basic facts looked bleak: this Internet blacklist bill is a disaster that stands at odds with the Constitution, but the deep pockets of its legacy media backers managed to make it enough friends in committee that its quick passage seemed possible. Judiciary Committee Chairman, author of the bill, and “Hollywood’s Favorite Republican” Lamar Smith scheduled just a single hearing, stacked the deck in his bill’s favor, and rushed it through to markup now, at the end of the legislative session.
Read the Electronic Frontier Foundation wrap up here
At least sign up to hear about the next push by the suits to ban the internet and freedom at
If not expect videos and clips to dry up as Hollywood crushes any and all instances of fair use abusing SOPA the same way they have abused DMCA
World of Warcraft Sucking the life out of American Society
Am I missing something.......what exactly does World of Warcraft offer society aside from the massive amounts of time and intellect wasted staring at a screen of avatars. Does it create a community of positive experiences....I don't think so. Does it encourage a positive work ethic....hmmmm no. Is it helping people connect and develop useful skills.....quite the reverse making personal face to face interactions challenging. Develop technical skills...nope players just use technology but don't understand it nor can they create or develop programs based on the technology or the cloud infrastructure.There must be some small subset of programmers and the gaming companies who love the concept as they sell more subscription based access and even manage to hawk paid aspects to a virtual world.I'm sure this is not just a US problem and I can't help asking why it continues to persist and even expand. Add it to the list of things that I believe is nothing but a black hole draining life out of people and returning nothing. It should be treated like any other epidemic; identified, isolated and purged.
20 December 2011
The English Language
A poem originally by J T O'Leary and posted by "Quotes"
A portion of this is from “The English Language written by J T O’Leary
We’ll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes, But the plural of ox becomes oxen, not oxes.
One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese, Yet the plural of moose should never be meese.
You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice, Yet the plural of house is houses, not hice.
One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese, Yet the plural of moose should never be meese.
You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice, Yet the plural of house is houses, not hice.
If the plural of man is always called men, Why shouldn’t the plural of pan be called pen?
If I speak of my foot and show you my feet, And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet?
If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth, Why shouldn’t the plural of booth be called beeth?
If I speak of my foot and show you my feet, And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet?
If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth, Why shouldn’t the plural of booth be called beeth?
Then one may be that, and three would be those, Yet hat in the plural would never be hose, And the plural of cat is cats, not cose.
We speak of a brother and also of brethren, But though we say mother, we never say methren.
Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him, But imagine the feminine: she, shis and shim!
We speak of a brother and also of brethren, But though we say mother, we never say methren.
Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him, But imagine the feminine: she, shis and shim!
Let’s face it – English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple.
English muffins weren’t invented in England .
We take English for granted, but if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square, and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
English muffins weren’t invented in England .
We take English for granted, but if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square, and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
And why is it that writers write but fingers don’t fing, grocers don’t groce and hammers don’t ham.
Doesn’t it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend. If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?
Doesn’t it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend. If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?
If teachers taught, why didn’t preachers praught?
If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat?
Sometimes I think all the folks who grew up speaking English should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane.
If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat?
Sometimes I think all the folks who grew up speaking English should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane.
In what other language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? We ship by truck but send cargo by ship. We have noses that run and feet that smell. We park in a driveway and drive in a parkway.
And how can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites?
And how can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites?
You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out, and in which an alarm goes off by going on.
So if Father is Pop, how come Mother isn’t Mop?
19 December 2011
Pronunciation and the English Language
Pronunciation....apparently
If you can pronounce correctly every word in this poem, you will be speaking English better than 90% of the native English speakers in the world. After trying the verses, a Frenchman said he’d prefer six months of hard labour to reading six lines aloud.
Dearest creature in creation,
Study English pronunciation.
I will teach you in my verse
Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse.
I will keep you, Suzy, busy,
Make your head with heat grow dizzy.
Tear in eye, your dress will tear.
So shall I! Oh hear my prayer.
Just compare heart, beard, and heard,
Dies and diet, lord and word,
Sword and sward, retain and Britain.
(Mind the latter, how it’s written.)
Now I surely will not plague you
With such words as plaque and ague.
But be careful how you speak:
Say break and steak, but bleak and streak;
Cloven, oven, how and low,
Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe.
Hear me say, devoid of trickery,
Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore,
Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles,
Exiles, similes, and reviles;
Scholar, vicar, and cigar,
Solar, mica, war and far;
One, anemone, Balmoral,
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel;
Gertrude, German, wind and mind,
Scene, Melpomene, mankind.
Billet does not rhyme with ballet,
Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet.
Blood and flood are not like food,
Nor is mould like should and would.
Viscous, viscount, load and broad,
Toward, to forward, to reward.
And your pronunciation’s OK
When you correctly say croquet,
Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve,
Friend and fiend, alive and live.
Ivy, privy, famous; clamour
And enamour rhyme with hammer.
River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb,
Doll and roll and some and home.
Stranger does not rhyme with anger,
Neither does devour with clangour.
Souls but foul, haunt but aunt,
Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant,
Shoes, goes, does. Now first say finger,
And then singer, ginger, linger,
Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge and gauge,
Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.
Query does not rhyme with very,
Nor does fury sound like bury.
Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth.
Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath.
Though the differences seem little,
We say actual but victual.
Refer does not rhyme with deafer.
Foeffer does, and zephyr, heifer.
Mint, pint, senate and sedate;
Dull, bull, and George ate late.
Scenic, Arabic, Pacific,
Science, conscience, scientific.
Liberty, library, heave and heaven,
Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven.
We say hallowed, but allowed,
People, leopard, towed, but vowed.
Mark the differences, moreover,
Between mover, cover, clover;
Leeches, breeches, wise, precise,
Chalice, but police and lice;
Camel, constable, unstable,
Principle, disciple, label.
Petal, panel, and canal,
Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal.
Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair,
Senator, spectator, mayor.
Tour, but our and succour, four.
Gas, alas, and Arkansas.
Sea, idea, Korea, area,
Psalm, Maria, but malaria.
Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean.
Doctrine, turpentine, marine.
Compare alien with Italian,
Dandelion and battalion.
Sally with ally, yea, ye,
Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, and key.
Say aver, but ever, fever,
Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver.
Heron, granary, canary.
Crevice and device and aerie.
Face, but preface, not efface.
Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass.
Large, but target, gin, give, verging,
Ought, out, joust and scour, scourging.
Ear, but earn and wear and tear
Do not rhyme with here but ere.
Seven is right, but so is even,
Hyphen, roughen, nephew Stephen,
Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk,
Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work.
Pronunciation (think of Psyche!)
Is a paling stout and spikey?
Won’t it make you lose your wits,
Writing groats and saying grits?
It’s a dark abyss or tunnel:
Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale,
Islington and Isle of Wight,
Housewife, verdict and indict.
Finally, which rhymes with enough,
Though, through, plough, or dough, or cough?
Hiccough has the sound of cup.
My advice is to give up!!!English Pronunciation by G. Nolst Trenité
Prps to @FredLanga
16 December 2011
Employee of the Month...
Employee of the Month…
We have a Winner!!!
This is the level of dedication we expect from all our staff!
There is a reason laptop spelled backwards is “potpal”.
We have a Winner!!!
This is the level of dedication we expect from all our staff!
There is a reason laptop spelled backwards is “potpal”.
15 December 2011
Amazing Video
The Real: Bambi and Thumper
The Real Bambi and ThumperThis was taken in Alberta , Canada in a back yard.
Bambi & Thumper really do exist!
'What an incredible photographer to have caught these shots.
May you always have
Love to Share,
Health to Spare,
And Friends that Care.
May You Be blessed!
Frosty the Snowman - Winter Puns
Q. What do snowmen wear on their heads?
A. Ice caps. Q. What do you get if you cross a snowman and a shark?
A. Frost bite. Q. Where do snowmen go to dance?
A. A snow ball. Q. What do you call an unreliable snowman?
A. A snow flake.
A. Ice caps. Q. What do you get if you cross a snowman and a shark?
A. Frost bite. Q. Where do snowmen go to dance?
A. A snow ball. Q. What do you call an unreliable snowman?
A. A snow flake.
When northwest logging was still young!
How tough were these guys?
When the Northwest logging industry was still young...
Just look at the length of the hand saw they needed...
and look at the size of the heavy duty axes...
The work required very strong and courageous men...
After a tree was felled the real work began - a week or more to cut it up...
Maneuvering the logs down the mountain to the train was a complex job...
Some of the logs were larger than the train engine...
hollowed out log became the company's mobile office...
When the Northwest logging industry was still young...
Just look at the length of the hand saw they needed...
and look at the size of the heavy duty axes...
The work required very strong and courageous men...
After a tree was felled the real work began - a week or more to cut it up...
Maneuvering the logs down the mountain to the train was a complex job...
Some of the logs were larger than the train engine...
hollowed out log became the company's mobile office...
|
Rice Fields of Japan
主題: RICE FIELDS OF JAPAN
Looks ordinary enough...but scroll down to watch as the rice grows !!!
Looks ordinary enough...but scroll down to watch as the rice grows !!!
Stunning crop art has sprung up across rice fields in Japan , but this is no alien creation. The designs have been cleverly PLANTED! Farmers creating the huge displays use no ink or dye.
Instead, different colour rice plants have been precisely and strategically arranged and grown in the paddy fields.
As summer progresses and the plants shoot up, the detailed artwork begins to emerge. 
A Sengoku warrior on horseback has been created from hundreds of thousands of rice plants.
The colors are created by using different varieties of rice plants, whose leaves grow in certain colors.
This photo was taken in Inakadate , Japan . 
Napoleon on horseback can be seen from the skies.
This was created by precision planting and months of planning by villagers and farmers located in Inkadate , Japan ... 
Fictional warrior Naoe Kanetsugu and his wife, Osen,
whose lives are featured on the television series Tenchijin', appear in fields in the town of Yonezawa in the Yamagata prefecture of Japan . 
This year, various artwork has popped up in other rice-farming areas of Japan , including designs of deer dancers.
Smaller works of 'crop-art' can be seen in other rice-farming areas of Japan such as this image of Doraemon and deer dancers.
The farmers create the murals by planting little purple and yellow-leafed Kodaimai rice along with their local green-leafed Tsugaru, a Roman variety, to create the coloured patternsin the time between planting and harvesting in September. The murals in Inakadate cover 15,000 square meters of paddy fields. 
From ground level, the designs are invisible, and viewers have to climb the mock castle tower of the village office to get a glimpse of the work. 
Closer to the image, the careful placement of the thousands of rice plants in the paddy fields can be seen.
Rice-paddy art was started there in 1993 as a local revitalization project, An idea that grew from meetings of the village committees.
The different varieties of rice plants grow alongside each other to create the masterpieces. In the first nine years, the village office workers and local farmers grew a simple design of Mount Iwaki every year. But their ideas grew more complicated and attracted more attention.
In 2005, agreements between landowners allowed the creation of enormous rice paddy art.
A year later, organizers used computers to precisely plot the planting of four differently colored rice varieties that bring the images to life!
TRULY A WORK OF ART!!
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