James and the Dusty Machines

Once upon a time, and still to this day a man named Adam lived in a dust bin of an universe. Adam worked as a mechanic in The Dust Creating Machine.  Each machine part was tainted with dust, which added more and more dust, and made piles of dust each and every day (365 24/7). 

No matter how hard Adam tried to get rid of the dust, the dust was always there. 

The King of the kingdom, had kept an eye on the machinery of his subjects and was not pleased with the continual accumulation of dusty particles.   King El, knew that the only solution was for him to step into man's story.  The king knew that Man was bound to the factory and too endebted to the factory cycle.   The only thing that could be done was to send his son into the factory.  Joshua turned over the factory and busted the machinery into tiny pieces.   He redirected man's energy to the king himself. 


The machinery would no longer be able to produce the sinful dust that had so plagued man.  
 
Man was/is stubborn and it took time for man to see the awesome power of Monkey wrenching Joshua.
 Some men even went and started building more machines.
 
So Joshua proclaimed, if you join that crew you can not be part of my kingdom.   

Joshua knew the answer was to return man back to an agrarian society absent of dusty machines. 

{The Beginning}

Original Story by Gregorio Roth

 

Revised: Scratch and Sniff Nativity Postcards....

Stuff I would like to see:
Scratch and Sniff Nativity Christmas cards.... breathe in the smells of Small Town - Old Bethlehem:
Christ was born amongst pee, pooh, and mud. The scent that wafts is one that can be compared to a stock show. When visiting the stock show I need to hold my nose for the first thirty minutes, in order to endure the obnoxious odors. One should not have life's smell bleached out, sometimes the scat of our lives is something to behold!

Christmas in Florida

Yard Snow has been ordered and laid onto your green yard. Snow has not fallen from the sky in thirteen years, although Floridians have been hoping for a White Christmas since 1996.
The weather has not changed much since September, it still is 85 degrees. But there are Convertible Sun Beams, decorated with fir wreaths in their front grills.
There are a collection of classic cars resting in front of the Baptist Church.
Lights. Lights. Lots of pretty, sparkly incandescent light.
"Parades! What would Christmas Season be without them?", says Bartow, Lakeland, Winter Haven members of the Chamber of Commerce.* Florida's decorative spirit is in high swing.

* (My wife is responsible for her school's float, appearing the Bartow Parade tonight.)

I'LL be there! Will You?

Roller Derby is back in the Tampa Area check them out on October 10th. You probably will dig it good; Really good.

Tuesday: News from the Southern Hemisphere

Southern California’s Distinction Gallery is celebrating their 5-year anniversary this month with a solo show of Andy Haynes' new work: The Journal Entries of Changing Tides.

Good Cuban Food Worth the Drive in Masaryktown

Florida attracts dreamers; People who come to live out there dream in the Sunshine State.

One thing that many people ask is, "Now, where you from originally!" This is not said as an insult. It is said because there are so many people from so many different places, that we like to know where y'all are from.

Czechoslovakians were one group that came and settled central Florida.

They came to central Florida in 1927, and planted saplings, at first they grew well. But in the winter of 1926-1927 there was a freeze. The saplings died out. The Czechoslovakians replanted. But again in 1927-1928 there was a second freeze. Many dreamers left for new places.

But the people who staid decided to raise Chickens, for chickens do not usually freeze. By 1970 there were two thousand chickens for every person. Masaryktown became the Egg Capitol of Florida. One place that remains of this Florida Egg Capitol is the Masaryktown Hotel.
Violet Cimbora reflected that the Hotel was the place to be in the Brooksville area:

We danced at the hotel.
We did the beseda that like our square dance.
On festival days we wore costumes.

Masarkytown (Cafe) Hotel still remains but now it serves Good Authentic Cuban Food.

To find the Masarkytown Hotel

Take US 41 to CR 574 A (turn at the OLD Gas Station now a Circle K) or
take SR 50 to US 41

Ode to the Rivalry between St. Louis and Chicago

The little village seemed accursed;
Soon all her gaudy baubles burst,
She proved what me thought her before,
A wind bag bugh-and nothing more.
When this wretched village stood
Now stands a sign of painted wood
On it these words: "Upon this spot
Chicago stood, but now stands not"
Her time soon came, she had to go
A victim, she, of too much blow.

St Louis Democrat May 8, 1875.

Chick Fil A

Laughter is the best medicine ... enjoy!

Extract from Eve's Diary Part VIII

TUESDAY.--All the morning I was at work improving the estate;
and I purposely kept away from him in the hope that he would get
lonely and come. But he did not.

At noon I stopped for the day and took my recreation by flitting all
about with the bees and the butterflies and reveling in the flowers,
those beautiful creatures that catch the smile of God out of the
sky and preserve it! I gathered them, and made them into wreaths
and garlands and clothed myself in them while I ate my luncheon--
apples, of course; then I sat in the shade and wished and waited.
But he did not come.

But no matter. Nothing would have come of it, for he does not
care for flowers. He called them rubbish, and cannot tell one
from another, and thinks it is superior to feel like that. He does
not care for me, he does not care for flowers, he does not care
for the painted sky at eventide--is there anything he does care for,
except building shacks to coop himself up in from the good clean rain,
and thumping the melons, and sampling the grapes, and fingering
the fruit on the trees, to see how those properties are coming along?

I laid a dry stick on the ground and tried to bore a hole in it
with another one, in order to carry out a scheme that I had,
and soon I got an awful fright. A thin, transparent bluish film
rose out of the hole, and I dropped everything and ran! I thought
it was a spirit, and I WAS so frightened! But I looked back, and it
was not coming; so I leaned against a rock and rested and panted,
and let my limps go on trembling until they got steady again;
then I crept warily back, alert, watching, and ready to fly if there
was occasion; and when I was come near, I parted the branches
of a rose-bush and peeped through--wishing the man was about,
I was looking so cunning and pretty--but the sprite was gone.
I went there, and there was a pinch of delicate pink dust in the hole.
I put my finger in, to feel it, and said OUCH! and took it
out again. It was a cruel pain. I put my finger in my mouth;
and by standing first on one foot and then the other, and grunting,
I presently eased my misery; then I was full of interest, and began
to examine.

I was curious to know what the pink dust was. Suddenly the name of it
occurred to me, though I had never heard of it before. It was FIRE!
I was as certain of it as a person could be of anything in the world.
So without hesitation I named it that--fire.

I had created something that didn't exist before; I had added
a new thing to the world's uncountable properties; I realized this,
and was proud of my achievement, and was going to run and find him
and tell him about it, thinking to raise myself in his esteem--
but I reflected, and did not do it. No--he would not care for it.
He would ask what it was good for, and what could I answer? for if it
was not GOOD for something, but only beautiful, merely beautiful--

So I sighed, and did not go. For it wasn't good for anything;
it could not build a shack, it could not improve melons, it could
not hurry a fruit crop; it was useless, it was a foolishness
and a vanity; he would despise it and say cutting words.
But to me it was not despicable; I said, "Oh, you fire, I love you,
you dainty pink creature, for you are BEAUTIFUL--and that is enough!"
and was going to gather it to my breast. But refrained.
Then I made another maxim out of my head, though it was so nearly
like the first one that I was afraid it was only a plagiarism:
"THE BURNT EXPERIMENT SHUNS THE FIRE."

I wrought again; and when I had made a good deal of fire-dust I emptied
it into a handful of dry brown grass, intending to carry it home
and keep it always and play with it; but the wind struck it and it
sprayed up and spat out at me fiercely, and I dropped it and ran.
When I looked back the blue spirit was towering up and stretching
and rolling away like a cloud, and instantly I thought of the name
of it--SMOKE!--though, upon my word, I had never heard of smoke before.

Soon brilliant yellow and red flares shot up through the smoke,
and I named them in an instant--FLAMES--and I was right, too,
though these were the very first flames that had ever been
in the world. They climbed the trees, then flashed splendidly
in and out of the vast and increasing volume of tumbling smoke,
and I had to clap my hands and laugh and dance in my rapture,
it was so new and strange and so wonderful and so beautiful!

He came running, and stopped and gazed, and said not a word for
many minutes. Then he asked what it was. Ah, it was too bad that he
should ask such a direct question. I had to answer it, of course,
and I did. I said it was fire. If it annoyed him that I should know
and he must ask; that was not my fault; I had no desire to annoy him.
After a pause he asked:

"How did it come?"

Another direct question, and it also had to have a direct answer.

"I made it."

The fire was traveling farther and farther off. He went to the edge
of the burned place and stood looking down, and said:

"What are these?"

"Fire-coals."

He picked up one to examine it, but changed his mind and put it
down again. Then he went away. NOTHING interests him.

But I was interested. There were ashes, gray and soft and delicate
and pretty--I knew what they were at once. And the embers;
I knew the embers, too. I found my apples, and raked them out,
and was glad; for I am very young and my appetite is active.
But I was disappointed; they were all burst open and spoiled.
Spoiled apparently; but it was not so; they were better than raw ones.
Fire is beautiful; some day it will be useful, I think.

Extract from Eve's Diary Part One

Translated from the Original by Mark Twain



SATURDAY.--I am almost a whole day old, now. I arrived yesterday.
That is as it seems to me. And it must be so, for if there was
a day-before-yesterday I was not there when it happened, or I
should remember it. It could be, of course, that it did happen,
and that I was not noticing. Very well; I will be very watchful now,
and if any day-before-yesterdays happen I will make a note of it.
It will be best to start right and not let the record get confused,
for some instinct tells me that these details are going to be
important to the historian some day. For I feel like an experiment,
I feel exactly like an experiment; it would be impossible for a person
to feel more like an experiment than I do, and so I am coming to feel
convinced that that is what I AM--an experiment; just an experiment,
and nothing more.

Then if I am an experiment, am I the whole of it? No, I think not;
I think the rest of it is part of it. I am the main part of it,
but I think the rest of it has its share in the matter. Is my
position assured, or do I have to watch it and take care of it?
The latter, perhaps. Some instinct tells me that eternal vigilance
is the price of supremacy. [That is a good phrase, I think, for one
so young.]

Everything looks better today than it did yesterday. In the rush of
finishing up yesterday, the mountains were left in a ragged condition,
and some of the plains were so cluttered with rubbish and remnants
that the aspects were quite distressing. Noble and beautiful works
of art should not be subjected to haste; and this majestic new world
is indeed a most noble and beautiful work. And certainly marvelously
near to being perfect, notwithstanding the shortness of the time.
There are too many stars in some places and not enough in others,
but that can be remedied presently, no doubt. The moon got
loose last night, and slid down and fell out of the scheme--
a very great loss; it breaks my heart to think of it. There isn't
another thing among the ornaments and decorations that is comparable
to it for beauty and finish. It should have been fastened better.
If we can only get it back again--

But of course there is no telling where it went to. And besides,
whoever gets it will hide it; I know it because I would do it myself.
I believe I can be honest in all other matters, but I already
begin to realize that the core and center of my nature is love
of the beautiful, a passion for the beautiful, and that it would
not be safe to trust me with a moon that belonged to another person
and that person didn't know I had it. I could give up a moon that I
found in the daytime, because I should be afraid some one was looking;
but if I found it in the dark, I am sure I should find some kind
of an excuse for not saying anything about it. For I do love moons,
they are so pretty and so romantic. I wish we had five or six;
I would never go to bed; I should never get tired lying on the moss-bank
and looking up at them.

Stars are good, too. I wish I could get some to put in my hair.
But I suppose I never can. You would be surprised to find how far
off they are, for they do not look it. When they first showed,
last night, I tried to knock some down with a pole, but it didn't reach,
which astonished me; then I tried clods till I was all tired out,
but I never got one. It was because I am left-handed and cannot
throw good. Even when I aimed at the one I wasn't after I
couldn't hit the other one, though I did make some close shots,
for I saw the black blot of the clod sail right into the midst of
the golden clusters forty or fifty times, just barely missing them,
and if I could have held out a little longer maybe I could have
got one.

So I cried a little, which was natural, I suppose, for one of my age,
and after I was rested I got a basket and started for a place on the
extreme rim of the circle, where the stars were close to the ground
and I could get them with my hands, which would be better, anyway,
because I could gather them tenderly then, and not break them.
But it was farther than I thought, and at last I had go give it up;
I was so tired I couldn't drag my feet another step; and besides,
they were sore and hurt me very much.

I couldn't get back home; it was too far and turning cold;
but I found some tigers and nestled in among them and was most
adorably comfortable, and their breath was sweet and pleasant,
because they live on strawberries. I had never seen a tiger before,
but I knew them in a minute by the stripes. If I could have one
of those skins, it would make a lovely gown.

(Continued April First) (No Joke Intended)

Life as a Frog!

The squish of mud between your toes; how would you live your life as a frog?

I died, last month. Wow what an ordeal, I thought I would be talking to St. Peter! But... I entered a great hall and Vishnu the great Hindu deities sat on a giant throne, (it was actually a toilet) he beamed a blueish grin. (He had been sucking a blow-pop.)
Vishnu said: "You have been a bad bad monkey. Now I pronounce your new incarnation to be that of a frog."
"Ribbit!" was the only word I could muster, so many other words were in my head, but all I could say was "Ribbit!"

Tweeter Addicted

Tweeter Addicted

Keeps me from my noon shower
My followers: three
Can't smell my stark ugly smell,
Twitter Fox sends me more news?

Tanka Poem Form of 5-7-5-7-7

Sabor Tooth Tiger Raises Funds for Museum

"All sabre-tooth mammals lived between 33.7 million and 9,000 years ago, but the evolutionary lines that led to the various sabre-tooth genera started to diverge much earlier."

The Saber Tooth tiger head sat in the middle of the Denver Museum of Natural History. An assortment of coins, dollars and miscellaneous debris were held in a glass cylinder under the head. The head roared when one dropped money through the smiling canines. Kids gathered wanting hear the sound of an extinct tiger.

Hi Dad, I'm in Jail (of my own making)

Revelation 3:15-22

"The only way to wake up from complacency is a confrontation."

Pastor Tim Rice, Trinity Presbyterian

Captain American-Leisure sits in front of a computer.

Polycarp: "Hey Fred, why you sitting there? Punk!"

Fred: "I've been working! So, bugger off!"

Polycarp: True that, do what you want... But he's been missing you!

Fred: You mean my Abba, my LORD?

Polycarp: Yup.

1 comment when first posted:

Joseph Pulikotil said...on November 12, 2008:

Hi :)

Interesting post!

This reminds me of a real life story. A mother prepared a lavish lunch for her son's birthday, invited neighbours and was waiting for him to come and join them at 1'o clock. He did not turn up at the appointed time. All were very hungry and annoyed. He walked in at 4'oclock and announced that he was in the police lock up for an hour because he tried to illegally cut some trees to make place for his house construction. He was in the lock up till his friend came and bailed him out. The hungry neighbours were nauseated and appalled at his explanation for coming late for lunch and keep them waiting for so long.

Best wishes :)

Happy Chanukah: Night Four

Dreidal Song by our South Park Buddies... Happy Chanukah Night Three

Happy Chanukah: Night Two

Oy, vey! I hope y'all are having a fabulous holiday season. Night Two.

Happy Chanukah: Night One

Happy Chanukah First Night

Ten Commandments That Were LOST... under my bed...

I. Mondays are to be avoided.

II. Eat a Reuben on Rye when you are about to stress.

III. Do what you love the money will find you!

IV. Friends drink good coffee together.

V. Jumping on beds, with a fan over the bed, not such a good idea.

VI. Cats are evil.... they know when you are allergic to them.

VII. Friends root for Florida State not Florida, Friends root for Colorado not Nebraska.

VIII. Thou shall never leave the towel on the floor or on the bed... (My wife put me up to it!)

IX. Thou shall always finish one project before moving onto the next...

X. Thou shall be thankful to all... then life is a pleasing aroma!

Grobes by Roald Dahl

From Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator
In the quelchy quaggy sogmire,
In the mashy mideous harshland,
At the witchy hour of gloomness,
All the Grobes come oozing home.

You can hear them softly slimeing,
Glissing hissing o'er the slobber,
All those oily boily bodies
Oozing onward in the gloam.

So start to run! Oh, skid and daddle
Through the slubber slush and sossel!
Skip jump hop and try to skaddle!
All the grobes are on the roam.

Wow mom, look push down on lever and the water comes out!!!!