U.S. Voters Give G-d A 52% Approval Rating

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on July 31, 2011

The Facebook friend posted the headline “US voters give G-d a 52% approval rating.” The link with the post goes to a story at the Los Angeles Examiner. ( The page is sponsored by … redundancy alert … a personal injury lawyer. ) It seems as though a political polling firm tossed a few questions about G-d into the mix. Here are the four questions, and the results:

1) If God exists, do you approve or disapprove of its performance?
Approve …………..52%
Disapprove ………. 9%
Not sure ………….40%
2) If God exists, do you approve or disapprove of its handling of natural disasters?
Approve …………..50%
Disapprove ……….13%
Not sure …………..37%
3) If God exists, do you approve or disapprove of its handling of animals?
Approve ……………56%
Disapprove ………..11%
Not sure ……………33%
4) If God exists, do you approve or disapprove of its handling of creating the universe?
Approve …………….71%
Disapprove ………… 5%
Not sure …………….24%

The G-d of this survey is gender neutral. It can be male, female, hermaphrodite, or spaghetti.” “The reason G-d was referred to as “it” rather than “he” in the poll was because not everyone who believes in G-d believes G-d to be male. Using “it” in the G-d questions allowed them to be more inclusive.”

Atlas Forum has a link to a blog post by the polling perps, Public Policy Polling. ( There is no word, yet, about Peter Piper picking pickled peppers.) The AF has the comment: “So this isn’t an Onion article? PPP really thought it was a good use of resources to run an approval rating on God?”.

The PPP post has a .pdf of a detailed report of the study. In addition to rating G-d, respondents were asked about Rupert Murdoch and John Boehner. The four questions about G-d were phrased “If G-d exists…”. There is no indication about how respondents who do not agree with the existence of G-d were dealt with. Maybe this is in the report, which PG is too slack to read.

CNN has a video interview with Rabbi Shmuley Boteach. He wonders why G-d is as popular as the poll says. ( PG wonders where G-d is when Jesus worshipers verbally abuse their neighbors.) The comments at CNN are amusing. John “Breivik is NOT a fundamental Christian!! He declared to be a cultural christian in his own manifest. That has NOTHING to do with Christianity as a belief, a religion, a way of life. “America “For the record, I approve of God. I DON’T approve of the President. “Gina “Right on! “Gina “It’s not God……the problem is you!!”

Dino Grandoni, at the Atlantic, points out that “Public Policy Polling … likes to make news with flashy headlines…” A link to this comment shows that PPP released a poll, in April, showing “46 Percent of Mississippi GOP Want to Ban Interracial Marriage.” In March, PPP told us “Sarah Palin Trails Charlie Sheen in Presidential Polling”. Some people will believe anything, if it is said to be proven by a survey.

The first page of google results had little to add to this report. A Jesus worship site says “ONLY 52% of U.S. VOTERS GIVE GOD THE THUMBS UP (as if God needs our approval) “ Jesus Needs Money gets an HT for the tasteful video embedded above. The International Business Times makes the curious comment : “Americans give a 50 approvals and 13 disapprovals on occasional earthquake or hurricane. They might believe that these atrocities build character.” A comment there: “This is an Onion article, right? Please tell me it is. “

Pictures tonight are from ” The Special Collections and Archives,Georgia State University Library”

Carbon Pollution Has Not Gone Away

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on July 30, 2011

There is a feature at mother jones this morning about the carbon dioxide crisis. It seems to be getting worse, in spite of the jokes about Al Gore.

The subject for discussion today is phytoplankton. They are a tiny lifeform in the ocean, which is eaten by bigger lifeforms, until the big fish chomp down on the little fish. In other words, this is the bottom of the food chain. If the bottom of the food chain goes away, then the top goes with it.

Some scientists say this is happening now, while we call Al Gore a hypocrite for living in a big house. As the water temperatures in the ocean increase, the phytoplankton are not as plentiful as before. The phytoplankton process CO2, and produce Oxygen, in a manner similar to the trees on dry land.

The oceans are absorbing a great deal of the excess CO2 that is dumped in the atmosphere. If the phytoplankton die out, they will process much less CO2, which will lead to more CO2 in the atmosphere, leading to higher temperatures and less phytoplankton. This is what is known as a tipping point. The urobourous eats its tail, and gets bigger and bigger.

There are reports that the CO2 absorbed by the oceans is affecting the PH levels of the water. The mother jones feature did not address this issue. PG is not a scientist, and can only understand so much. How these altered PH levels work with the higher temperatures is rocket science to him. Mixing in a few billion gallons of crude oil further muddies the waters. All PG knows is that the results will probably not be good for the earth.

HT to obsidian wings for the story in mother jones. Pictures are from The Library of Congress.

This is a repost. In the year since this was posted, the cool people have forgotten about carbon pollution. Obsidianwings posts highly entertaining poetry slams. The American system is either going to go broke, or look like a bunch of idiots, or both. The oil well in the Gulf of Mexico has reportedly been capped, and it has disappeared from popular attention. The orchestra on the Titanic was jamming out.

The Assumption Of Good Faith Is Crumbled

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on July 30, 2011

“You are old, Mr Clarke,” the woman said, stunned,
“And your music has gone out of style;
Yet your circles are full and your comments +1’d
Have you been on the net a long while?”

“In my youth,” Mr. Clarke replied to the lass,
“Our flamewars used genuine fires.
I still carve my zeroes; my ones are hand-cast.
They barely fit through the wires.”

“You are old,” said the girl, “you once used AOL
As shorthand to mean ‘you are clueless’.
I’ve no doubt at all you were once on the WELL —
Are you awestruck by all the newness?”

“In my youth,” said the blogger, pausing his post,
“Discussions on Usenet were clever.
And here we are still, and I don’t mean to boast,
But I’m just as witty as ever.”

“You are old, said the girl again, “antedating
Both Napster and Wikipedia.
Are you really a part of the world we’re creating
With sharing and social media?”

“In my youth” said the writer, “we shared without fail:
The carbon would blacken our cc’s.
We guessed from their style which posters were male,
But often we doubted their species.”

“You are old,” said the girl, “I can scarcely believe
The time you have been wasting in chatter.
What famines and poverties did you relieve
What injustices did you shatter?”

“I have answered three questions, and that is enough,”
Said Chris; “Tell me how if you’re friendless
You expect you can change all of that crucial stuff?
The potential of wank is just endless.”
Abi Sutherland – Jul 28, 2011

Among twenty spammy newsgroups,
The only moving thing
Was the yap of the newbie.

I was of three minds,
Like a tree
That was linked on Metafilter.

The noob mailed everyone he knew.
Text was a small part of the GIFs in MIME.

A man and a woman
Are one.
A man is a woman, and a newbie

I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of clueless yammering
Or the beauty of WTF,
The newbie tweeting
Or just after.

Giffy files filled my long window
With iterative trash.
The shadow of the LOLcat
Crossed it, to and fro.
The newb
Posted in shadow
An indecipherable meme.

O bloggers of Godwin,
Why do you bother with golden words?
Do you not see how the point
Flies over the heads
Of the newbies about you?

I know mobile access
In lurid, inescapable schisms;
But I know, too,
That the newbie is involved
In [FOO]FAIL 2012.

When the newbie ran out of words,
It made for glee
In one or many circles.

At the sight of newbies
Flying in a green light,
Even the pages of Geocities
Would cry out sharply.

He blogged about Lieberman
In a glass house.
Once, a fear pierced him,
That some had mistook
The outlines of his quippage
For a newbie’s.

The cursor is moving.
The newbie must be lying.

It was September all year.
They were posting
And they were going to post.
The newbie sat
In the Cheeto-crumbs.
Chris Clarke – Jul 28, 2011

Raging and raging in the lengthening thread
The mood will not heed the moderator;
Rules sprout loopholes; the FAQ cannot answer;
Mere trollery is loosed upon the site,

The lambent prose is loosed, and everywhere
The assumption of good faith is crumbled;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some resolution is at hand;
Surely Going Viral is at hand.
Going Viral! Hardly are those words onscreen
When a vast image out of Fandom Wank
Troubles my stream: somewhere in the wilds of the net

A community with zeitgeist and common purpose,
A cause right and pitiless as the sun,
Is searching for a forum, while all their LJs
Trail threads of the approving, supportive THIS’s.
The tweets move on again; but now I know

That 287 TLDs of peaceful sites
Were vexed to nightmare by a raging thread
And what rough horde, its cause come round at last
Slouches toward my website to be borne?
Abi Sutherland – Jul 28, 2011

Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s Eve?
Thou art more trollish and intemperate:
Rough words don’t slake your need to vent your peeve,
And someone here is past their sell-by date:

Sometime too hot the heads of heaven, mind,
And finer posts than yours rejected, Jim;
And every rant from narcissists declined,
Or from their needless words their vowels betrimm’d:

But the endless Septembering you’ve brayed
Has lost possession of what slack I owest;
Nor would Death long bear the crap you’ve laid,

When in these endless threads manure you throwest:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
Go back under your bridge, and eat my shorts.
Chris Clarke – Jul 28, 2011

The way a friend
@replies to
The tweets I send
On days I’m #blue

Tells my heart
I’m never going to give you up
I’m never going to let you down
Never going to run around and desert you
Abi Sutherland – Jul 28, 2011

Bent double, web designers without slack,
Ache-wristed, hacking with tags, we cursed each kludge,
Till on the table cells we turned our back
And toward semantic code began to trudge.
We did not sleep. Many hours lost, reboots

And trancing iPods. All went numb; the grind;
Drunk with caffeine; deaf even to the suits
Of Hi-Fived Two Point Ohs who then resigned.
Crash! Crash! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Finding the clumsy backup just in time;

While CTO was chilling out and Tumblring,
Websurfing with a Tanqueray and lime . . .
Dim, through the tinted panes and Aeron mesh,
As under a green sea, I saw him clowning.

In all my coding, after each refresh.
His comments in there, muttering, joking, clowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the bitbucket we flung them in,
And watch one-liners twinkling ‘cross his face,

His sad trombone and tiny violin;
If you could watch him drinking Jolt, the flood
Of banter as he climbed each corporate rung,
Obscene as goatse, bitter as the cud
Of stupid WHASSUP jokes from off his tongue,

My friend, you would not Greek without regret
For clients entre whom you would preneur,
The old Lie; Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet
Chris Clarke – Jul 28, 2011

This ae site, this ae site,
So long as screen-light glowes,
Joke and jest and fire-fight,
The web preserve thy prose.

When thou from hence art AFK
To Ever September make thy way

If ever thou gavest a newbie grace
Here in comfort take thy place

If taunting newbies was thy thing
Lang may thou with griefing sting

From Ever September click away
To Blogosphere make thou thy way

If ever a stranger thou savéd from flame
Here will others for thou do the same.

If only thy friends were safe with thee
4chan is thy destiny.

From Blogosphere then click away
To Social Media make thy way.

If ever with links thou gavest credit
Thy posts and name be top on Reddit.

If links and credit thou oft left aside
Thy authorship be alway denied.

This ae site, this ae site,
So long as screen-light glowes,
Joke and jest and fire-fight,
The web preserve thy prose.
Abi Sutherland – Jul 28, 2011

Obsidianwings directed Chamblee54 to this exchange. They have links to the original.
The pictures are from The Library of Congress.

A French Tar-Baby

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on July 28, 2011

In the time when there were hobgoblins and fairies, Brother Goat and Brother Rabbit lived in the same neighborhood, not far from each other. Proud of his long beard and sharp horns, Brother Goat looked on Brother Rabbit with disdain. He would hardly speak to Brother Rabbit when he met him, and his greatest pleasure was to make his little neighbor the victim of his tricks and practical jokes.
For instance, he would say: “Brother Rabbit, here is Mr. Fox,” and this would cause Brother Rabbit to run away as hard as he could. Again he would say: “Brother Rabbit, here is Mr. Wolf,” and poor Brother Rabbit would shake and tremble with fear. Sometimes he would cry out: “Brother Rabbit, here is Mr. Tiger,” and then Brother Rabbit would shudder and think that his last hour had come.
Tired of this miserable existence, Brother Rabbit tried to think of some means by which he could change his powerful and terrible neighbor into a friend. After a time he thought he had discovered a way to make Brother Goat his friend, and so he invited him to dinner.
Brother Goat was quick to accept the invitation. The dinner was a fine affair, and there was an abundance of good eating. A great many different dishes were served. Brother Goat licked his mouth and shook his long beard with satisfaction. He had never before been present at such a feast.
“Well, my friend,” exclaimed Brother Rabbit, when the dessert was brought in, “how do you like your dinner?” “I could certainly wish for nothing better,” replied Brother Goat, rubbing the tips of his horns against the back of his chair; “but my throat is very dry and a little water would hurt neither the dinner nor me.”
“Gracious!” said Brother Rabbit, “I have neither wine-cellar nor water. I am not in the habit of drinking while I am eating.”
“Neither have I any water, Brother Rabbit,” said Brother Goat. “But I have an idea! If you will go with me over yonder by the big poplar, we will dig a well.”
“No, Brother Goat,” said Brother Rabbit, who hoped to revenge himself—”no, I do not care to dig a well. At daybreak I drink the dew from the cups of the flowers, and in the heat of the day I milk the cows and drink the cream.”
“Well and good,” said Brother Goat. “Alone I will dig the well, and alone I will drink out of it.”
“Success to you, Brother Goat,” said Brother Rabbit.
“Thank you kindly, Brother Rabbit.”
Brother Goat then went to the foot of the big poplar and began to dig his well. He dug with his forefeet and with his horns, and the well got deeper and deeper. Soon the water began to bubble up and the well was finished, and then Brother Goat made haste to quench his thirst. He was in such a hurry that his beard got in the water, but he drank and drank until he had his fill.
Brother Rabbit, who had followed him at a little distance, hid himself behind a bush and laughed heartily. He said to himself: “What an innocent creature you are!”
The next day, when Brother Goat, with his big beard and sharp horns, returned to his well to get some water, he saw the tracks of Brother Rabbit in the soft earth. This put him to thinking. He sat down, pulled his beard, scratched his head, and tapped himself on the forehead.
“My friend,” he exclaimed after a while, “I will catch you yet.”
Then he ran and got his tools (for Brother Goat was something of a carpenter in those days) and made a large doll out of laurel wood. When the doll was finished, he spread tar on it here and there, on the right and on the left, and up and down. He smeared it all over with the sticky stuff, until it was as black as a Guinea negro.
This finished, Brother Goat waited quietly until evening. At sunset he placed the tarred doll near the well, and ran and hid himself behind the trees and bushes. The moon had just risen, and the heavens twinkled with millions of little star-torches.
Brother Rabbit, who was waiting in his house, believed that the time had come for him to get some water, so he took his bucket and went to Brother Goat’s well. On the way he was very much afraid that something would catch him. He trembled when the wind shook the leaves of the trees. He would go a little distance and then stop and listen; he hid here behind a stone, and there behind a tuft of grass.
At last he arrived at the well, and there he saw the little negro. He stopped and looked at it with astonishment. Then he drew back a little way, advanced again, drew back, advanced a little, and stopped once more.
“What can that be?” he said to himself. He listened, with his long ears pointed forward, but the trees could not talk, and the bushes were dumb. He winked his eyes and lowered his head: “Hey, friend! Who are you?” he asked.
The tar-doll didn’t move. Brother Rabbit went up a little closer, and asked again: “Who are you?”
The tar-doll said nothing. Brother Rabbit breathed more at ease. Then he went to the brink of the well, but when he looked in the water the tar-doll seemed to look in too. He could see her reflection in the water. This made Brother Rabbit so mad that he grew red in the face.
“See here!” he exclaimed, “If you look in this well I’ll give you a rap on the nose!”
Brother Rabbit leaned over the brink of the well, and saw the tar- doll smiling at him in the water. He raised his right hand and hit her—bam! His hand stuck.
“What’s this?” exclaimed Brother Rabbit. “Turn me loose, imp of Satan! If you do not, I will rap you on the eye with my other hand.”
Then he hit her—bim! The left hand stuck also. Then Brother Rabbit raised his right foot, saying:
“Mark me well, little Congo! Do you see this foot? I will kick you in the stomach if you do not turn me loose this instant.”
No sooner said than done. Brother Rabbit let fly his right foot— vip! The foot stuck, and he raised the other. “Do you see this foot?” he exclaimed. “If I hit you with it, you will think a thunderbolt has struck you.”Then he kicked her with the left foot, and it also stuck like the other, and Brother Rabbit held fast his Guinea negro.
“Watch out, now!” he cried. “I’ve already butted a great many people with my head. If I butt you in your ugly face I’ll knock it into a jelly. Turn me loose! Oho! You don’t answer?” Bap!
“Guinea girl!” exclaimed Brother Rabbit, “Are you dead? Gracious goodness! How my head does stick!”
When the sun rose, Brother Goat went to his well to find out something about Brother Rabbit. The result was beyond his expectations.
“Hey, little rogue, big rogue!” exclaimed Brother Goat. “Hey, Brother Rabbit! What are you doing there? I thought you drank the dew from the cups of the flowers, or milk from the cows. Aha, Brother Rabbit! I will punish you for stealing my water.”
“I am your friend,” said Brother Rabbit; “don’t kill me.”
“Thief, thief!” cried Brother Goat, and then he ran quickly into the woods, gathered up a pile of dry limbs, and made a great fire. He took Brother Rabbit from the tar-doll, and prepared to burn him alive. As he was passing a thicket of brambles with Brother Rabbit on his shoulders, Brother Goat met his daughter Beledie, who was walking about in the fields.
“Where are you going, Papa, muffled up with such a burden? Come and eat the fresh grass with me, and throw wicked Brother Rabbit in the brambles.”
Cunning Brother Rabbit raised his long ears and pretended to be very much frightened.
“Oh, no, Brother Goat!” he cried. “Don’t throw me in the brambles. They will tear my flesh, put out my eyes, and pierce my heart. Oh, I pray you, rather throw me in the fire.”
“Aha, little rogue, big rogue! Aha, Brother Rabbit!” exclaimed Brother Goat, exultingly, “You don’t like the brambles? Well, then, go and laugh in them,” and he threw Brother Rabbit in without a feeling of pity. Brother Rabbit fell in the brambles, leaped to his feet, and began to laugh.
“Ha-ha-ha! Brother Goat, what a simpleton you are!—ha-ha-ha! A better bed I never had! In these brambles I was born!”
Brother Goat was in despair, but he could not help himself. Brother Rabbit was safe.
A long beard is not always a sign of intelligence.
A French Tar-Baby was written by Joel Chandler Harris.
The text is from Project Gutenberg . The pictures are from The Library of Congress .

Goddess Garden

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on July 28, 2011

PG went to the Goddess Garden Wednesday Night. ( No, that is not a euphemism for death. This is being written Thursday morning, in the usual location.) As any UGA fan can tell you, heaven is not located just off North Avenue.

The Goddess Gardens is an urban wilderness. There is a bit of land, which goes down hill towards a capped off spring. A pre war house is next to the entrance. The human part of the facility is Shasta Zaring, the Priestess. When she moved onto the land, it was ruled by kudzu. The gardens have reclaimed the land, a bit at a time.

PG arrived a bit before seven, and found a good parking spot. Another Atlanta native mentioned that drag legend Diamond Lil stays down the road. PG first heard of Diamond Lil when the Great Speckled Bird had a story about her. A few minutes after seven, Shasta led the group down the hill. The first sacrament of the evening, bug spray, was shared.

The first part of the evening was at Mary’s Grotto, an outdoor room with chairs and alters. Introductions were made, and Shasta told a bit about the Goddesses she works with. Two more priestesses arrived, and a few more “outdoor enthusiasts”.

The next part of the visit was a walk through the lower level. Tara’s portal is located on this level. Tara is the green Tara of Tibet, who went to Ireland, before being the home of the O’Hara family. The portal is built around an old ladder. PG is 1.96 meters tall, and he can stand up totally in Tara’s portal. Rumors that Scarlet O’Hara shot a Yankee soldier there are unfounded.

Walking past a few flowers and alters, the group found itself at the medicine wheel. The four directions were called into a circle, and everyone offered a blessing for the earth. PG asked for the sky to bless the earth with rain, rain, rain, and more rain. The next drought could be beginning today. The crickets chattered throughout, and no one was able to translate their comments.

The group walked through a kudzu tunnel, and up the hill to Mary’s Grotto. PG found himself in a lively conversation about current affairs, with all participants in agreement that things were messed up. There was a walk down a gravel road, to see a garden planted next to the beltline. After a bit more conversation at the Gardens, it was time to go home.

On the way home, PG passed by a LIQ store. The music embed is from dangerousminds.


Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on July 27, 2011

PG was cruising the internet, minding his own business, when he saw the initials HSAT. He was puzzled, but knew that uncle google could help. 0.28 seconds later, PG was looking at Healthy School Action Tools and Hazardous Substances Academic Training. Sensing that these were incorrect, politically and otherwise, our fearless scribe clicked on the third choice, Acronym Finder. One of the five options was Having Said All That , which fits the context of the first sighting.

About this time the idea light bulb went off over PG’s head…why not do a post about acronyms? With a tsunami of text flooding our capacity, acronyms help certain phrases to stand out. It can be a way to make a statement with ease, like saying TMI after hearing something you did not need to hear. Acronyms are short, and brevity is the soul of wit. ( Spell check suggestion for Anders Breivik : brevity.)

A popular misuse of acronyms is what wikipedia calls false etymology. A popular cussword does NOT mean “for unlawful carnal knowledge”. According to snopes , the urban mythbuster,  acronyms are largely a twentieth century phenomenon.

Two military phrases from World War Two, snafu and fubar, are credited as being among the first acronyms to become popular. They might be obsolete. If you go to the DOD Dictionary of Military Terms, and enter snafu and fubar in the search engine, they will say “no results found”.

Webster’s Online Dictionary has a wealth of information about the A word. (This word/page is sponsored by a law firm specializing in personal injury cases. )The basic definition is A word formed from the initial letters of the several words in the name. The word literally means top name. Other uses of the prefix are acrostics and acrophobia.

Webster’s has one quote about acronyms, by Rush Limbaugh. It has a lively page of poetry.

An abbreviation, in every other way you were! A contraction, you have been!
A byway, you are! A formality, you will constantly be!

To acronym I offer this thanks, when needing something like crosscut
When writing poetry and drawing blanks, I often settle using shortcut
I have been searching ever more, hoping again to sing your praise.
For words, I very much adore, lacking me in several ways.

Pictures today are from The Library of Congress.

Who Pushed Humpty Dumpty?

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on July 26, 2011

Mary had a little pig, She kept it fat and plastered;
And when the price of pork went up,
She shot the little bastard…

Hey diddle, diddle, the cat took a piddle,
All over the bedside clock.
The little dog laughed to see such fun.
Then died of electric shock.

Mary had a little lamb. Her father shot it dead.
Now it goes to school with her, Between two chunks of bread…

Jack and Jill went up the hill To have a little fun.
Stupid Jill forgot the pill And now they have a son…

Simple Simon met a pie man going to the fair.
Said Simple Simon to the pie man, ‘What have you got there?’
Said the pie man unto Simon, ‘Pies, you dumb ass’…

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the kings’ horses, And all the kings’ men.
Had scrambled eggs, For breakfast again…

Georgie Porgy pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry.
And when the boys came out to play,
He kissed them too ’cause he was gay.

There was a little girl who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good, she was very, very good.
But when she was bad……..
She got a fur coat, jewels, a waterfront condo, and a sports car.

The text today is a repost.
Pictures by Chamblee54. Taken in East Atlanta, November 16, 2008.

Jihad Kitty Of Norway

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on July 26, 2011

Following links on the internet is like paddling a canoe, on a lazy river with lots of tributaries. It is easy to be distracted by this creek or that. Once you are off the main stream, there is no telling where you will wind up. Sometimes you find yourself in a sewage treatment facility. 

Today’s journey starts at Iraq Blog Count. This is an automated list, showing the latest offering from a variety of blogs. Many of these blogs are in Arabic. PG followed a link to Iraqi American Mojo.

The story at IAM is Norwegian killer was influenced by American blogger. The lead sentence is :
“It appears the Norwegian mass murderer was influenced by conservative American blogger Robert Spencer , the author of Jihad Watch. “ (IAM did not link to Jihad Watch. ). The link in the first sentence is to a piece by Jeffrey Goldberg.
The first sentence by Mr. Goldberg is
“I’m away, and it’s hard to keep up with the news, but it seems as if my arch-nemesis Pamela Geller is in a bit of a pickle because she and her partner-in-Muslim-bashing, Robert Spencer, were favorites of the Norway killer. (Btw, I call her my arch-nemesis, but I’m grateful to her for calling me what I believe to be the best epithet ever , “Jewicidal Jihadi.” Also, “Jihad Jeffro.” All I’ve ever come up with to describe her is “shrieking bigot,” which doesn’t have the same power, or alliterative quality.”
Jihad Watch has a tasteful piece today, titled “New York Times convicts Spencer of guilt for Norway murders.” The NYT piece, “Killings in Norway Spotlight Anti-Muslim Thought in U.S.” discusses the manifesto of Anders Behring Breivik, who is not a nice man.
“In the document he posted online, Anders Behring Breivik, who is accused of bombing government buildings and killing scores of young people at a Labor Party camp, showed that he had closely followed the acrimonious American debate over Islam. His manifesto, which denounced Norwegian politicians as failing to defend the country from Islamic influence, quoted Robert Spencer, who operates the Jihad Watch Web site, 64 times, and cited other Western writers who shared his view that Muslim immigrants pose a grave danger to Western culture.”
These days, Islam has replaced Communism as the boogeyman of conservatives. Radio whiners and print posers compete to produce the most inflammatory purple prose. While arguably Mr. Breivik is a sick man, a rebel looking for a cause, it does not look good for the Muslim bashers when an incident like this takes place.

One thing you hear a lot about is Islam influence “terrorism”. Whenever an incident takes place, there are demands that the “moderate Muslims” denounce the terrorism of their coreligionists. Now the shoe is on the other foot.

Back when commie bashing was fashionable, the Soviet Union shot down a plane with American civilians on board. There was widespread denunciation, and calls for war against the evil empire. A few years later, The United States shot down a civilian plane in the Middle East. Those who had denounced the action of the USSR were strangely silent, when it was our guns that shot down a civilian plane.

You are probably wondering how this is going lead to an actress who loves cats. ( The video is probably a fake. ) As the screen shot shows, google decided that a good ad for this performance was “discount tires”. Which still does not tell us how a rampaging Norseman, who reads conservative blogs, has to do with a MBA recipient who loves cats.

The video was posted at Biblical Christianity , a Jesus worship blog that does not appreciate Chamblee54. BC posted a story with the racy title “Blond-haired, blue-eyed conservative Palin-loving Christian terrorist?” The first sentence:
“In PR terms, Christmas has come early for the Left/MSM: they have found a terrorist to whom they can attach “far-right” conservatism, fundamentalist Christianity, and the name of Sarah Palin. It’s a propaganda trifecta.” When PG clicked on the link in this sentence, his virus alert came on the screen to announce that a virus attack had been thwarted. When you go trolling surfing on the internet, be sure to have the latest updates installed on your anti virus.
Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. The spell check suggestion for Breivik is Brevity.

Those Who Disagree With You

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on July 26, 2011

You might not care what “the world” thinks of you. But then you ban comments from those who disagree with you. If you were so certain of your wonderful opinions, you would let others who disagree speak. // “Don’t think of it as us breaking up. Think of it as . . . me being happy again.” // Creativity is not is not merely the poem, the watercolor, the song. It is the act of humans describing the great mystery of Life Itself. Creativity is an act of faith, of hope, of love. It is virtuous, revelatory, prophetic. It is our prayer lived out. It is the heart reaching up to the brain; the brain whispering I love you to the heart. It is what enlivens us. – Jan Phillips // Because I’m not a polemicist and I have no desire to out-shout an opponent when I think I’m having a discussion. // “Celebrity is the humiliation of a person deprived of secrets.” // I’ve pissed off three people so I guess my work here is done. OMG, I am such a pain I’m the ass! // “In certain ways writing is a form of prayer.” —Denise Levertov // oh sweetie, you’re the last person that should be calling anything trashy // Sometimes the path seems so easy that you realize late in the journey that you are without a map or a clear destination. // “We have to dare to be ourselves, however frightening or strange that self may prove to be.” // “I went trough this phase last year where I pretty much ate nothing but kudzu.” //Damn quotations! I’ll have none of them. Instead, I intend to talk about ice cream. // All children are born artists. The problem is to remain an artist as we grow up.” – Pablo Picasso // “In the sweetness of friendship, let there be laughter and the sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.” – Kahlil Gibran (don’t EVEN get me started) // “Truth is the enemy of power, now and always.” – Ed Abbey // “Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.” ~ Albert Einstein //anything is legal when you don’t get caught // When G-d is in the details, there is the devil to pay. // he was honored by a standing ovation, from the one legged man, with one arm // A nymphomaniac will join thousands of men in a strange sort of brotherhood // “A single act of kindness throws out roots in all directions and the roots spring up and make new trees.” – Amelia Earhart // A violent frenzy in a none too cheap hotel He says it’s hazy but I remember it so well // // By honoring your words. You are honored. What’s your tea told you today? // Include a descriptive subject line, or your email will end up in our spam jail. // “If we expect community relationships to be ideal, spiritual, friendly, and enlightened, we are seeking what we can’t even expect of our own minds.” ~ Jack Kornfield // Being a good writer is 3% talent, 97% not being distracted by the internet // “You see? The mysteries of the Universe are revealed when you break stuff.” // “A word from Benedict of Nursia: “The first step of humility is to cherish at all times the sense of awe with which we should turn to God.” // “I’m excited for all the stripper money I’m going to make… then we can eat mermaid every night.” // Please, I’m from Brooklyn. I’ve never had good taste. I wear what appeals to me, so I can’t make a mistake or go out of style. Very liberating not to have to worry about that.” Michael Musto // All posts are pre-moderated and must obey the house rules // “In solitude, where we are least alone” ~ Lord Byron // A man who is by himself is in bad company – Eric Hoffer // “I distrust who know so well what God wants them to do because I notice it always coincides with their own desires.” — Susan B. Anthony // And long-known local crackpots, trashcan media, assorted contract-seeking vultures, citizen journos, Joe Blows, MSM, national media, parents, onlookers, snake-oil sales types, very dubious leaders, people who kinda give a shit, you get the point, are all mixed into this civic stew still bubbling steadily along on the cooker. // Never put off till tomorrow what you can do the day after that // Six Phases of a Project: (1) Enthusiasm (2) Disillusionment (3) Panic (4) Search for the Guilty (5) Punishment of the Innocent (6) Praise and Honors for the Non-Participants // i had to disable my spell check cuz black market terms arent usually reconized… // “Soar, eat ether, see what has never been seen; depart, be lost, but climb.” — Edna St. Vincent Millay // “marxism: wonderful theory, wrong species” e.o. wilson // I love to hike, play soccer, swimming (even though I can’t swim), and also watching movies. // But honey, If I agree with you, then we’ll *both* be wrong. // “Every third thought shall be my grave” — W. Shakespeare, “The Tempest” // Savor vowels, appreciate consonants. –A.G. // Life is not a motivational speech. // Religious Views … sounds of a dish breaking // I promise I won’t hate you if you disagree. // music is the freight train in which g-d travels // G-d respects man when he works, but loves him when he sings // You mustn’t force sex to do the work of love or love to do the work of sex. // ******** appreciates your comments that abide by the following guidelines: 1. Avoid profanities or foul language unless it is contained in a necessary quote or is relevant to the comment. 2. Stay on topic. 3. Disagree, but avoid ad hominem attacks. 4. Threats are treated seriously and reported to law enforcement. 5. Spam and advertising are not permitted in the comments. 

Lived Happily Ever After

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on July 25, 2011

PG listened to an online discussion the other day about skepticism. One of the things the talkers were skeptical of is the claims made for “alternative” medicine. The two seemed to think that any treatment, without an insurance claim form, is bogus.

There was an interesting bit of cross current here. The woman, who attends atheist conferences, takes the corporate, conservative line when it comes to medicine. To PG, industrial medicine was the player that needs the attention of a skeptic. He left a comment, and got some predictable replies.

Some say it is all about money . Pictures today are from The Library of Congress.

chamblee54 wrote on 07/23/2011 at 05:53 PM I agree that “alternative” medicine needs to be viewed with “skepticism”. However, this does not mean that industrial medicine should be given a free ride. There are cases where non industrial remedies are effective.

An example would be gout. A few years ago, a friend and I had issues with this. I went to a Chinese doctor. He gave me some herbs to make tea from, and told me to avoid certain foods. The gout went away. My friend went to an insurance doctor, and took chemical medicine. He didn’t know before he took the medicine that the gout would get worse before it got better. He had to go in the hospital.

Modern industrial medicine is a technological marvel, and a human disaster. The costs may be the ruin of our economy. When you have a profit driven system. often the needs of the patient take second place.

Another example would be AIDS. We now have wonder drugs that can keep it under control for many people. However, these wonder drugs are horrendously expensive, and have many side effects. There are people who got the bug in the early eighties, used “alternative” treatments, and are still alive today.

I could go on and on, and maybe someone will continue this. I have only seen part of this diavlog, and am looking forward to the rest. Ms. Althouse is always fun to listen to. I read a little bit about the controversy involving Ms. Watson and the elevator barista , and look forward to hearing the rest of this. I might not get much multi tasking done.

Don Zeko wrote on 07/23/2011 at 06:03 PM When these natural remedies are proven to have beneficial effects by multiple peer-reviewed studies, I’ll be happy to compare them to competing “chemical” medicines on a cost-benefit basis. I’m not arguing that there are aren’t serious problems with the pharmaceutical industry and the way that it interacts with the rest of the health care system, but the dysfunction of mainstream medicine hardly proves that we’d be better off with faith-based “natural” alternatives.

chamblee54 wrote on 07/23/2011 at 06:54 PM There is a problem here. The “peers” that do these review studies are a part of the industrial medicine establishment. (Mafia might be too strong a word.) They have a stake in maintaining the hegenomy of profit driven indu$trial medicine. I don’t think these people are going to give “alternative” medicine a fair shake.

apple wrote on 07/23/2011 at 07:02 PM OK, studies are frauds, peer-reviewed journals are a fraud, but believing the unverified claims of someone selling faux (aka alternative) medicine is good. Got it. You should consider becoming an advocate for “intelligent design”.

Don Zeko wrote on 07/23/2011 at 07:28 PM Come on man, this is conspiratorial, non-falsifiable nonsense. You’re writing off everyone that might have a contrary opinion because of tenuous claims of self-interest, while ignoring how the “alternative medicine” community is full of quacks making money hand over fist selling people snake oil.

The facebook friend posted a link, along with a note. for all my psychotherapist colleagues who from time to time take call for each other when another is away. Ellen Bass’ poem exemplifies grace under pressure and how common sense can save the day. The link is to a copyrighted poem. .

It tells the story of a therapist, taking calls for a colleague who is on vacation. A man wants to kill himself. The substi-shrink asks the man to wait until monday, when his regular therapist will be back in town. The man agrees to live.

This reminds PG of a story. It was in a book by Celestine Sibley, about her mentor Ralph McGill. Mr. McGill was the editor of the Atlanta Constitution. At the time, the Constitution was an independently owned competitor to the Atlanta Journal, the afternoon paper.

A reporter for the morning paper found out his wife was fooling around. He got drunk at lunch, and swore he was going to kill his wife’s bf. Mr. McGill got wind of this, and called the man into his office.

The editor had a request for the reporter. Please wait until today’s afternoon paper comes out. This is going to be a good story, and I want the morning paper to cover it. The reporter agreed to the delay. He went home, sobered up, and decided that killing was not a good idea. The reporter got a divorce, another wife, and lived happily ever after.

A Very Respectable Job

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on July 25, 2011

If you read facebook, you have seen it. The example that spurred PG into action was (name changed to protect the guilty) ” @$#% &#$$ likes Going to church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than standing in a garage makes you a car. ” In the old days, people put a bumper sticker on their vehicle to show off the clever saying they heard. Now, they “like”.

There was an incident on the Joe Pyne show, that may or may not have happened. It relates to this example. Mr. Pyne asked Frank Zappa if his long hair made him a girl. Mr.Z shot back, Does your wooden leg make you a table?

As per wikipedia, bumper stickers did not exist before the bumper. The first BS were attached to the vehicle with wires. A printer in Kansas City MO named Forest P. Gill gets the credit ( or blame) for adding stick on adhesive to pvc, and creating the first modern BS.

When PG was a kid, there was a miniature golf course on Cheshire Bridge Road called Putt Putt. The first bumper sticker that PG saw was from this facility. It said “I play Putt Putt”

Many concepts just don’t work when reduced to a few words. The subtleties of Christian teaching are not well served by “G-d Said it, I believe it, that settles it”.

Moving ahead to modern times, Likeydotnet is in the vanguard of digital slogan distribution. As a public service, this blog is going to post a bunch of these slogans. A few will be left out…one uses the N Word, and a few are just too gross. Anyone who despairs about the standards of taste and decency in America, is squeamish about cuss words, or picky about the third commandment, will be well served by skipping to the pictures. These pictures are from The Library of Congress. This is a repost

No matter what I get on the computer to do, I always end up on Facebook.# I’m telling the truth, but then I smile, and then they think I’m lying.# We have the ice cream truck for the kids, why don’t we have a frozen margarita truck for us adults?# Mom, im 16 now. Can I have a Bra? …No, Justin.# Im a girl but I rather hang out with boys because it is less drama!!!!# “feel my legs!!!” “why…?” “i just shaved :)”
# You’ll never find the right person if you don’t let go of the wrong one.# Being happy doesn’t mean that everything is perfect. It means that you’ve decided to look beyond the imperfections.#Sarah and Richie don’t talk they just facebook…….SAD.#Be nice to your kids. They’ll choose your nursing home.#growing your beard during exams to seek extra wisdom. #”Congratulations! You’re the 1,000,000 visitor!” Yeah bullshit. #I know when we ge older that im going to get a call from you telling me ur drunk and to ome and pick you up,and im fine with that(:#”Everyone, CALM down! Everything will be okay!…LOL, j/k! We’re all gonna die…”# Noooo… being a stripper is a very respectable job. LOL jk, you’re a whore.#So, I kinda sorta maybe like you a little more than I had originally planned. #”who u texting” “mum do i have to tell u who i’m texting” “yea, is it your boyfriend” “NO, its the queen”# A penis has a sad life. His hair is a mess, his family is nuts, his neighbour is an asshole, his bestfriend is a pussy and his owner beats him!# PIG PIG PIG!# i wonder if ur liking?# I Like Hip Hop Break dance # no its not you i miss its your company# i like my hair snooki style :) # I’m with you Mag, I love Jesus, my strength and courage to face the day-I trust him with my day always# My Wee Angel# Older Brother: I’m goin to the shops. Me: Can you bring me back something? Older Brother: No. Me: Please. Older Brother: No. Me: Please. Older Brother: No. Me: Please. Older Brother: Maybe. *Comes back later* Me: What did you bring me? Older Brother: Sorry, I forgot. Me: LIAR!!! # you smell : realy :yer Well Nott Realy I Havee Hadd A Showerr# ooo ten most shocking photos who put the surveys there# Girls, you look like a burnt cookie. Unplug the tanning bed and back away slowly.# I Love My Best Friend More Than ANYTHING! (: x # when you like someone but you know you cant have them#i say “hi”, but my heart is screaming “I LOVE YOU!!!” # Why do people leave without even saying goodbye?# If we invite someone to a party, we’d request “the honor of your presence”. If they’re a judge, it’s the presence of Your Honor.# Guy: I love you. Girl: No you don’t, ‘I love you’ are just words. Prove it to me and maybe I will believe you.#Please, #6 Jahre habe ich keinen Alkohol getrunken, nicht geraucht, keinen Sex gehabt, und dann kam ich in die Schule! #Hate’s it when a guy tells you they love you but goes to some other girl.# I keep looking at my phone, hoping to hear it go off. But, I guess I’m the last thing on your mind, huh? :( # okay there is a white house,bluehouse and a red house..who lives in the white house #. cod mw2# I didn’t fall, I attacked the floor. #i have a taste for sushi ^_^# Like if you know any Chain Smoker’s!!# I live for Christ. He is my way, my light, my strength, and my savior :) Who’s with me?# Sometimes your knight in shining armor is just a retard in tin foil# “It’s so fluffy I’m gonna die!! IT’S SO FLUFFAAAAAY!!”# Going to church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than standing in a garage makes you a car. # A boy gives a girl 10 roses, 9 real and 1 fake. And he says to the girl that he’ll love her, until the last one dies.# When Life Gives You a Bad Romance, show everyone your Poker Face, buy a new Telephone, call Alejandro, and you guys Just Dance!# He came to me one night. Explored my body, licked, sucked, swallowed! When satisfied, he left & I was hurt!!… Fucking mosquito!# Fake hair, fake nails, fake tan, fake boobs… Girl, are you sure you weren’t made in China? # A man asked a genie to make him a billion times smarter than anyman on earth, so the genie turned him into a woman.# You can close your eyes to the things you do not want to see, but you cannot close your heart to the things you do not want to feel.# I don’t care if it’s rude to stare, you are hot, so I will stare.# Don’t judge . . . you never know what a person’s story is . . . leave that up to G-d! # Teacher: Billy why are you crying and why did you bring your cat to school? Billy: Because I heard my dad tell my mom “When Billy leaves to school I’m gonna beat that pussy up!”# Jacob: “I kissed bella , then she broke her hand, punching me in the face”# The world can’t end in 2012, I have a yogurt that expires in 2013.# “EVERYONE SHUT THE F*** UP!” *answers phone* “Hi Mommy :)”#Today I bought a packet of salted nuts. On the pack it said “Warning, may contain nuts.” Well I would be pretty disappointed if I opened it up and a sock fell out…* Best ever game as a child: make sure the balloon does not touch the floor.

I Sing The Body Electric

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on July 23, 2011

I sing the body electric,
The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them,
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the soul.

Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves?
And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the dead?
And if the body does not do fully as much as the soul?
And if the body were not the soul, what is the soul?
The love of the body of man or woman balks account,
the body itself balks account,
That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect.

The expression of the face balks account,
But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face,
It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists,
It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist and knees,
dress does not hide him,
The strong sweet quality he has strikes through the cotton and broadcloth,
To see him pass conveys as much as the best poem, perhaps more,
You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder-side.

The sprawl and fulness of babes, the bosoms and heads of women,
the folds of their dress, their style as we pass in the street,
the contour of their shape downwards,
The swimmer naked in the swimming-bath, seen as he swims through
the transparent green-shine, or lies with his face up and rolls
silently to and from the heave of the water,
The bending forward and backward of rowers in row-boats,
the horse-man in his saddle,
Girls, mothers, house-keepers, in all their performances,
The group of laborers seated at noon-time with their open dinner-kettles,
and their wives waiting,
The female soothing a child, the farmer’s daughter in the garden or cow-yard,
The young fellow hosing corn, the sleigh-driver driving his six horses
through the crowd,
The wrestle of wrestlers, two apprentice-boys, quite grown, lusty,
good-natured, native-born, out on the vacant lot at sundown after work,
The coats and caps thrown down, the embrace of love and resistance,
The upper-hold and under-hold, the hair rumpled over and blinding the eyes;
The march of firemen in their own costumes, the play of masculine muscle
through clean-setting trowsers and waist-straps,
The slow return from the fire, the pause when the bell strikes suddenly again,
and the listening on the alert,
The natural, perfect, varied attitudes, the bent head, the curv’d neck
and the counting;
Such-like I love—I loosen myself, pass freely, am at the mother’s breast
with the little child,
Swim with the swimmers, wrestle with wrestlers, march in line
with the firemen, and pause, listen, count.
I knew a man, a common farmer, the father of five sons,
And in them the fathers of sons, and in them the fathers of sons.
This man was a wonderful vigor, calmness, beauty of person,
The shape of his head, the pale yellow and white of his hair and beard,
the immeasurable meaning of his black eyes,
the richness and breadth of his manners,
These I used to go and visit him to see, he was wise also,
He was six feet tall, he was over eighty years old, his sons were massive,
clean, bearded, tan-faced, handsome,
They and his daughters loved him, all who saw him loved him,
They did not love him by allowance, they loved him with personal love,
He drank water only, the blood show’d like scarlet
through the clear-brown skin of his face,
He was a frequent gunner and fisher, he sail’d his boat himself,
he had a fine one presented to him by a ship-joiner,
he had fowling-pieces presented to him by men that loved him,
When he went with his five sons and many grand-sons to hunt or fish,
you would pick him out as the most beautiful and vigorous of the gang,
You would wish long and long to be with him, you would wish to sit by him
in the boat that you and he might touch each other.

I have perceiv’d that to be with those I like is enough,
To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,
To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough,
To pass among them or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly
round his or her neck for a moment, what is this then?
I do not ask any more delight, I swim in it as in a sea.

There is something in staying close to men and women and looking on them,
and in the contact and odor of them, that pleases the soul well,
All things please the soul, but these please the soul well.

This is the female form,
A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot,
It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction,
I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor,
all falls aside but myself and it,
Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth,
and what was expected of heaven or fear’d of hell, are now consumed,
Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it,
the response likewise ungovernable,
Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands all diffused,
mine too diffused,
Ebb stung by the flow and flow stung by the ebb, love-flesh swelling
and deliciously aching,
Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quivering jelly of love,
white-blow and delirious juice,
Bridegroom night of love working surely and softly into the prostrate dawn,
Undulating into the willing and yielding day,
Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-flesh’d day.

This the nucleus—after the child is born of woman, man is born of woman,
This the bath of birth, this the merge of small and large, and the outlet again.

Be not ashamed women, your privilege encloses the rest,
and is the exit of the rest,
You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of the soul.

The female contains all qualities and tempers them,
She is in her place and moves with perfect balance,
She is all things duly veil’d, she is both passive and active,
She is to conceive daughters as well as sons, and sons as well as daughters.

As I see my soul reflected in Nature,
As I see through a mist, One with inexpressible completeness,
sanity, beauty,
See the bent head and arms folded over the breast, the Female I see.

The male is not less the soul nor more, he too is in his place,
He too is all qualities, he is action and power,
The flush of the known universe is in him,
Scorn becomes him well, and appetite and defiance become him well,
The wildest largest passions, bliss that is utmost, sorrow that is utmost
become him well, pride is for him,
The full-spread pride of man is calming and excellent to the soul,
Knowledge becomes him, he likes it always, he brings every thing
to the test of himself,
Whatever the survey, whatever the sea and the sail
he strikes soundings at last only here,
(Where else does he strike soundings except here?)

The man’s body is sacred and the woman’s body is sacred,
No matter who it is, it is sacred—is it the meanest one in the laborers’ gang?
Is it one of the dull-faced immigrants just landed on the wharf?
Each belongs here or anywhere just as much as the well-off, just as much as you,
Each has his or her place in the procession.

(All is a procession,
The universe is a procession with measured and perfect motion.)

Do you know so much yourself that you call the meanest ignorant?
Do you suppose you have a right to a good sight,
and he or she has no right to a sight?
Do you think matter has cohered together from its diffuse float,
and the soil is on the surface, and water runs and vegetation sprouts,
For you only, and not for him and her?

A man’s body at auction,
(For before the war I often go to the slave-mart and watch the sale,)
I help the auctioneer, the sloven does not half know his business.

Gentlemen look on this wonder,
Whatever the bids of the bidders they cannot be high enough for it,
For it the globe lay preparing quintillions of years without one animal or plant,
For it the revolving cycles truly and steadily roll’d.

In this head the all-baffling brain,
In it and below it the makings of heroes.

Examine these limbs, red, black, or white, they are cunning in tendon and nerve,
They shall be stript that you may see them.

Exquisite senses, life-lit eyes, pluck, volition,
Flakes of breast-muscle, pliant backbone and neck, flesh not flabby,
good-sized arms and legs,
And wonders within there yet.

Within there runs blood,
The same old blood! the same red-running blood!
There swells and jets a heart, there all passions, desires, reachings, aspirations,

(Do you think they are not there because they are not express’d
in parlors and lecture-rooms?)

This is not only one man, this the father of those who shall be fathers
in their turns,
In him the start of populous states and rich republics,
Of him countless immortal lives with countless embodiments and enjoyments.

How do you know who shall come from the offspring of his offspring
through the centuries?
(Who might you find you have come from yourself,
if you could trace back through the centuries?)

A woman’s body at auction,
She too is not only herself, she is the teeming mother of mothers,
She is the bearer of them that shall grow and be mates to the mothers.

Have you ever loved the body of a woman?
Have you ever loved the body of a man?
Do you not see that these are exactly the same to all in all nations
and times all over the earth?

If anything is sacred the human body is sacred,
And the glory and sweet of a man is the token of manhood untainted,
And in man or woman a clean, strong, firm-fibred body, is more beautiful
than the most beautiful face.

Have you seen the fool that corrupted his own live body?
or the fool that corrupted her own live body?
For they do not conceal themselves, and cannot conceal themselves.

O my body! I dare not desert the likes of you in other men and women,
nor the likes of the parts of you,
I believe the likes of you are to stand or fall with the likes of the soul,
(and that they are the soul,)
I believe the likes of you shall stand or fall with my poems,
and that they are my poems,
Man’s, woman’s, child, youth’s, wife’s, husband’s, mother’s, father’s,
young man’s, young woman’s poems,
Head, neck, hair, ears, drop and tympan of the ears,
Eyes, eye-fringes, iris of the eye, eyebrows, and the waking
or sleeping of the lids,
Mouth, tongue, lips, teeth, roof of the mouth, jaws, and the jaw-hinges,
Nose, nostrils of the nose, and the partition,
Cheeks, temples, forehead, chin, throat, back of the neck, neck-slue,
Strong shoulders, manly beard, scapula, hind-shoulders,
and the ample side-round of the chest,
Upper-arm, armpit, elbow-socket, lower-arm, arm-sinews, arm-bones,
Wrist and wrist-joints, hand, palm, knuckles, thumb, forefinger,
finger-joints, finger-nails,
Broad breast-front, curling hair of the breast, breast-bone, breast-side,
Ribs, belly, backbone, joints of the backbone,
Hips, hip-sockets, hip-strength, inward and outward round,
man-balls, man-root,
Strong set of thighs, well carrying the trunk above,
Leg-fibres, knee, knee-pan, upper-leg, under-leg,
Ankles, instep, foot-ball, toes, toe-joints, the heel;
All attitudes, all the shapeliness, all the belongings of my or your body
or of any one’s body, male or female,
The lung-sponges, the stomach-sac, the bowels sweet and clean,
The brain in its folds inside the skull-frame,
Sympathies, heart-valves, palate-valves, sexuality, maternity,
Womanhood, and all that is a woman, and the man that comes from woman,
The womb, the teats, nipples, breast-milk, tears, laughter, weeping,
love-looks, love-perturbations and risings,
The voice, articulation, language, whispering, shouting aloud,
Food, drink, pulse, digestion, sweat, sleep, walking, swimming,
Poise on the hips, leaping, reclining, embracing, arm-curving and tightening,
The continual changes of the flex of the mouth, and around the eyes,
The skin, the sunburnt shade, freckles, hair,
The curious sympathy one feels when feeling with the hand
the naked meat of the body,
The circling rivers the breath, and breathing it in and out,
The beauty of the waist, and thence of the hips,
and thence downward toward the knees,
The thin red jellies within you or within me, the bones and the marrow
in the bones,
The exquisite realization of health;

O I say these are not the parts and poems of the body only, but of the soul,
O I say now these are the soul!

Text for this adventure is from the Project Gutenberg.
The text was reformatted by Chamblee54.
“I sing the Body Electric” was written by Walt Whitman.
An audio version of this poem is available from Librivox.