kthanxbai!
P.S. Jay - I'm not saying you're wrong, but lets settle this with my Tavor against your VERP. Just a case of getting it all through customs I guess.
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My response to Reuters? - "Distance from bias? Myass"
Hamas was upset at an on-line ad that was seen at the Reuters Arabic service site, offering a $10 million reward for information on the whereabouts of Gilad Shalit.
Reuters' response to the terrorist group is instructive.
Palestine Today reports that Reuters responded to the criticism, saying that it was an automated ad placed there by Google Ads, and not - Allah forbid! - placed by any Reuters staffers. After all, an ad that seeks to free a prisoner illegally held in an unknown location without any access to the Red Cross would be thoroughly offensive to any Reuters employee, right?
Reuters then cravenly added that they immediately acted to remove the ad, and "we are now taking steps to ensure non-recurrence of such things in the future."
Reuters additionally wrote back to the offended terrorist organization that Reuters has a long history of covering the Middle East in a neutral and accurate manner, stressing that they are committed to continuing this approach, they wrote "We are clear and faithful to our principles of integrity, independence and distance from bias."
In trying to get people to accept early propaganda releases, the Communists would have some "good cop" interrogator like the ones we called the "Soft Soap Fairy" talk to the prospect and sound him out for pliability. They got Doug one day and asked what we eventually learned to be the lead question: "What do you want more than anything else in the world?" The answer of the weak and willing was : "To go home to my family." Doug thought for a long time, then cocked his head with a smile and said "Why, I'd like a pillow, Sir." This was not an unreasonable response since we had no pillows on our cement pads or bed boards. However, the response sure confounded the enemy. They eventually came up with a name for Doug amongst the guards and interrogators: "The Incredibly Stupid One." His original resistance ploy had paid off.
Because they thought him stupid, they would let him go out in the cell block courtyard during the siesta to sweep up the grounds period monitored by only one sleepy, peasant guard. I thought that was great since it kept him from skipping and I could get some rest. However, curiosity got the better of me and I started to watch him through a peephole we had bored in the cell door. He'd go sweeping and humming until the guard was lulled to sleep. Then Doug would back up to a truck, spin the gas cap off the standpipe, stoop down and put a small amount ("Small, because it's going to be a long war, Sir.") of dirt in the gas tank and replace the cap. I watched him over a period of time do this to five trucks.
Now, I'm a liberal arts major who shot himself down, so all I can do is report what I saw. There were five trucks working in the prison; I saw Doug work on five trucks; I saw five trucks towed disabled out of the prison camp. Doug Hegdahl, a high school graduate from the mess decks fell off a ship and has five enemy trucks to his credit. I am a World Famous Golden Dragon (VA 192) with two college degrees, 2000 jet hours, 300 carrier landings and 22 combat missions. How many enemy trucks do I have to my credit? Zero. Zip. Nada. De Rien. 0. Who's the better man? Douglas Brent Hegdahl, one of two men I know of who destroyed enemy military equipment while a prisoner of war.
I was in my neighborhood restaurant this morning and was seated behind a group of jubilant individuals celebrating the successful passing of the recent health care bill.
I could not finish my breakfast.
This is what ensued:
They were a diverse group of several races and both sexes.
I heard the young man exclaim, “Isn’t Obama like Jesus Christ?
I mean, after all, he is healing the sick”.
The young woman enthusiastically proclaimed, “Yeah, and he does it for free.
I cannot believe anyone would think that a free market would work for health care.
They are all crooks and thieves and don’t deserve all of that money.”
Another said, ‘The stupid Republicans want us all to starve to death so they can inherit all of the power.
Obama should be made a saint for what he did for those of us less fortunate.”
At this, I had had enough.
I arose from my seat, mustering all the restraint I could find, and approached their table.
“Please excuse me; may I impose upon you for one moment?
”They smiled and welcomed me to the conversation.
I stood at the end of their table, smiled as best I could and began an experiment.
“I would like to give one of you my house.
It will cost you no money and I will pay all of the expenses and taxes for as long as you live there.
Anyone interested?” They looked at each other in astonishment.
“Why would you do something like that?” asked a young man, “There isn’t anything for free in this world”.
They began to laugh at me, as they did not realize this man had just made my point.
“I am serious, I will give you my house for free, no money what so ever. Anyone interested?”
In unison, a resounding” Hell Yeah” fills the room.
“Since there are too many of you, I will have to make a choice as to who receives this money free bargain.”
I noticed an elderly couple was paying attention to the spectacle unfolding before their eyes, the old man shaking
his head in apparent disgust.
“I tell you what; I will give it to the one of you most willing to obey my rules.”
Again, they looked at one another, an expression of bewilderment on their faces.
The perky young woman asked, “What are the rules?” I smiled and said, “I don’t know.
I have not yet defined them.
However, it is a free home that I offer you.”
They giggled amongst themselves, the youngest of which said, “What an old coot.
He must be crazy to give away his home.
Go take your meds, old man.”
I smiled and leaned into the table a bit further.
I am serious, this is a legitimate offer.
They gaped at me for a moment.
Hell, I’ll take it you old fool.
Where are the keys?” boasted the youngest among them.
Then I presume you accept ALL of my terms then? I asked.
The elderly couple seemed amused and entertained as they watched from the privacy of their table.
“Oh hell yeah! Where do I sign up?”
I took a napkin and wrote, “I give this man my home, without the burden of financial obligation, so long as he accepts and abides by the terms that I shall set forth upon consummation of this transaction.”
I signed it and handed it to the young man who eagerly scratched out his signature.
“Where are the keys to my new house?” he asked in a mocking tone of voice.
All eyes were upon us as I stepped back from the table, pulling the keys from pocket and dangling them before the excited new homeowner.
Now that we have entered into this binding contract, witnessed by all of your friends, I have decided upon the conditions you are obligated to adhere from this point forward.
You may only live in the house for one hour a day.
You will not use anything inside of the home.
You will obey me without question or resistance.
I expect complete loyalty and admiration for this gift I bestow upon you.
You will accept my commands and wishes with enthusiasm, no matter the nature.
Your morals and principles shall be as mine.
You will vote as I do, think as I do and do it with blind faith.
These are my terms.
Here are your keys.” I reached the keys forward and the young man looked at me dumb founded.
Are you out of your freaking mind? Who would ever agree to those ridiculous terms?” the young man appeared irritated. You did when you signed this contract before reading it, understanding it and with the full knowledge that I would provide my conditions only after you committed to the agreement.
Was all I said. The elderly man chuckled as his wife tried to restrain him.
I was looking at a now silenced and bewildered group of people.
You can shove that stupid deal up you’re a** old man, I want no part of it exclaimed the now infuriated young man.
You have committed to the contract, as witnessed by all of your friends; you cannot get out of the deal unless I agree to it.
I do not intend to let you free now that I have you ensnared.
I am the power you agreed to.
I am the one you blindly and without thought chose to enslave yourself to.
In short, I am your Master. At this, the table of celebrating individuals became a unified group against the unfairness of the deal.
After a few moments of unrepeatable comments and slurs, I revealed my true intent.
What I did to you is what this administration and congress did to you with the health care legislation.
I easily suckered you in and then revealed the real cost of the bargain.
Your folly was in the belief that you can have something you did not earn; that you are entitled to that which you did not earn; that you willingly allowed someone else to think for you.
Your failure to research, study and inform yourself permitted reason to escape you.
You have entered into a trap from which you cannot flee.
Your only chance of freedom is if your new Master gives it unto you.
A freedom that is given can also be taken away; therefore, it is not freedom.
With that, I tore up the napkin and placed it before the astonished young man.
This is the nature of your new health care legislation.”
I turned away to leave these few in thought and contemplation and was surprised by applause.
The elderly gentleman, who was clearly entertained, shook my hand enthusiastically and said, Thank you Sir, these kids don’t understand Liberty these days.
He refused to allow me to pay my bill as he said, You earned this one, it is an honor to pickup the tab.
I shook his hand in thanks, leaving the restaurant somewhat humbled, and sensing a glimmer of hope for my beloved country.
The process that Priuses / Prii use to turn their movement into battery power and then back into
car movement? Well it was named after Proffessor Fark of Hinkyflinky, Sweden. The process that is named after him is called farking.
Obama dies and finds himself before the Pearly Gates. He is very excited; all his life he’s had a secret wish and longed to meet the Prophet Mohammed.
Having arrived at the Gates of Heaven, Barack meets a man with a beard. ‘Are you Mohammed?’ he asks.
‘No, my son. I am Peter. Mohammed is higher up.’ Peter then points to a ladder that rises into the clouds.
Delighted that Mohammed should be higher than Peter, Obama climbs the ladder in great strides, climbs through the clouds coming to a room where he meets another bearded man. He asks again, ‘Are you Mohammed?’
‘No, I am Moses. Mohammed is higher still.’
Exhausted, but with a heart full of joy, he climbs the ladder; yet again, he discovers an even larger room where he meets another man with a beard. Full of hope, he asks again, ‘Are you Mohammed?’ ‘No, I am Jesus… You will find Mohammed higher up.’
Mohammed higher than Jesus! Man!
Obama can hardly contain his delight and climbs and climbs, ever higher. Once again, he reaches a larger room where he meets a man with a beard and repeats his question: ‘Are you Mohammed?’ he gasps as he is, by now, totally out of breath from all his climbing.
‘No, my son…. I am Almighty God. But you look exhausted. Would you like a cup of coffee..?’
‘Yes! Please, my Lord,’ Obama exclaims.
God looks behind him, claps his hands and yells out: ‘Hey Mohammed — two coffees!’(From a particularly evil email)
Here endeth the lesson.I'm sure the Saudi Arabian forum that stole the picture from him quickly heard about their mistake!!
In the late 1800s, some Jews began looking for a solution to the violent Judeophobia (I prefer this term to “anti-Semitism”) in Europe that they had been enduring for centuries. (Concise timelines of Judeophobia are here and here.) It was obvious to people like Theodor Herzl that the Jews needed their own land where they would no longer be persecuted. (Examples of brutal, racist treatment can be seen here and here.) Jews bought more land in Palestine (whenever possible – many Palestinians refused to sell land to Jews), and Russian Jews immigrated there to flee the waves of pogroms, increasing the Jewish presence in Palestine, even before the British issued the Balfour Declaration in 1917. However, the British also promised the land to the Arabs, and had separately made a deal with France to make Palestine internationally controlled. The Arabs revolted against the British (killing Jews as well, just for good measure) in 1936. Although the Arabs weren’t successful in kicking out non-Arabs, this revolt started some cultural shifts – namely, increased hostilities between Arabs and Jews (two groups whose ancient histories had been intertwined in this area for thousands of years), and Britain revoked their promise to give land in Palestine to the Jews.Well done Amy! For the rest of the essay click here
You say the Israelis are brutal and racist. However, I think you are seeing only the ugliness of war on one side. It is ugly on both sides. The Israelis did not start the war. On May 15, 1948, just one day after the independent state of Israel was created, six Arab nations declared war on Israel. The war could have been avoided if the Palestinians had agreed to the U.N.-proposed two-state proposal. And still, the war could end at any time if they would agree to a two-state proposal.
They lived together in the same gray with green trim Victorian house for sixty-some odd years; he carried her over the threshold after their wedding reception. Money was too tight for an actual honeymoon, but both were thankful to have their own place, more so because all they really felt they needed was each other. The beautiful house was just gravy (though Mrs. Deal kept that house like it was Imperial jade, turning carpets, washing walls, changing drapes for each season and polishing all the wood with beeswax).
The town grew around them, cars became more prevalent. Eventually, the street was paved, and actual stop signs — and a traffic light! — were erected. They drove the same perfectly-maintained-by-the-Mister beige Packard that he had bought with his Army muster-out pay in the late fifties.Read the complete, moving, story here
When I was a kid, adults used to bore me to tears with their tedious diatribes about how hard things were. When they were growing up; what with walking twenty-five miles to school every morning…. Uphill… Barefoot… BOTH ways… yadda, yadda, yadda....
And I hate to say it, but you kids today, you don’t know how good you’ve got it! ....
There were no MP3’s or Napsters or iTunes! If you wanted to steal music, you had to hitchhike to the record store and shoplift it yourself!...
Or you had to wait around all day to tape it off the radio, and the DJ would usually talk over the beginning...
Four White Cops, One Angry Black Man
… and the angry black man was high on drugs and emotionally despondent over the inability to kick his addiction.
And the incident ended not with gunfire, or with the black man writhing on the ground at the end of a Taser, but with the angry black man walking to the ambulance and climbing aboard, of his own free will. The EMTs bandaged the man’s lacerated wrists as he sobbed brokenly, and the cops quietly assured him that they were there to help, not arrest, and that they’d do whatever it took to get the angry black man the help he needed.
And when the angry black man thanked one of the white cops for treating him like a man and a fellow human being, and begged him to accompany him to the hospital, the white cop promised that he’d follow right behind the ambulance, and he’d be there with him in the ER as he went through what was undoubtedly a very frightening time for the angry black man.
He delivered on his promise, too.
That’s how the majority of these encounters go, you know. Doesn’t matter if the cops are white and the angry man is black, or vice versa. With a little compassion and a lot of communication, the vast majority of such incidents end without harm or bloodshed. I see them play out this way every day.
I tell you this story not because it is unusual, but because it isn’t.
You know, just in case you got the opposite impression from what you always see in the news.
The father of a Marine slain in Iraq has been ordered to pay the court costs of the odious Phelps clan:
Lawyers for the father of a Marine who died in Iraq and whose funeral was picketed by anti-gay protesters say a court has ordered him to pay the protesters’ appeal costs.I guess he hadn’t given enough.
On Friday, the Court of Appeals for the Fourth Circuit ordered that Albert Snyder of York, Pa., pay costs associated with Fred Phelps’ appeal. Phelps is the leader of the Westboro Baptist Church, which conducted protests at the funeral of Snyder’s son, Marine Lance Cpl. Matthew Snyder, in Westminster in 2006.
Lawyers for Snyder say the Court of Appeals has ordered him to pay $16,510.80 to Phelps for costs relating to the appeal, despite the fact that the U.S. Supreme Court has agreed to review the Court of Appeals’ decision.
A total of 276 British troops have died in the Afghan conflict since operations began in 2001.
The bodies of two soldiers killed in Afghanistan last week will be brought back to the UK on Tuesday.
L/Cpl Scott Hardy and Private James Grigg, both from the 1st Battalion The Royal Anglian Regiment, died last Tuesday north of Musa Qalah.
The cortege will pass through Wootton Bassett after arriving at RAF Lyneham.
Up to 500 soldiers will lose their jobs under a plan to reshape the Army to better meet the challenges of operations in Afghanistan, the Ministry of Defence announced today.