Full story: WGRZ Buffalo
#56569 Jul 27, 2013
Master of the Universe: You are toast. Don't come around looking for my mercy. You are the one who put the gag order in place. You left no options for anyone else seeking mercy, why should you receive any? You are not worth the powder to blow yourself up.
#56570 Jul 27, 2013
The Ransomville resident is cordoned off with a wooden fence for 'privacy purposes.'
#56571 Jul 27, 2013
He put up a fence at the hut?
#56572 Jul 27, 2013
Is it true that the next round of closings will begin in Sept.? Where?
#56573 Jul 27, 2013
No. At the jail.
#56574 Jul 27, 2013
At the crossroads of Old Wounds and Boulevard of
#56575 Jul 27, 2013
You don't have to get snarky. He has 3 (4?) residences - didn't know which one. On the other hand, who really cares what he does or doesn't do. He's old news that no one cares about.
#56576 Jul 27, 2013
Oh, yes, wooden fence is needed to protect 'the privacy.'
#56577 Jul 27, 2013
Everywhere, across the diocese!
#56578 Jul 27, 2013
I wouldn't want to poison the animals.
I think they should get a bare assed public spanking in Niagara Square which has become Buffalo Party Central. It would be free entertainment and not so drastic.
#56579 Jul 27, 2013
Grab your ticket and your suitcase, thunder's rolling down this track
Well, you don't know where you're going now, but you know you won't be back
Well, darling, if you're weary, lay your head upon my chest
We'll take what we can carry, yeah, and we'll leave the rest
Well, big wheels roll through the fields where sunlight streams
Meet me in a land of hope and dreams
I will provide for you and I'll stand by your side
You'll need a good companion now for this part of the ride
Yeah, leave behind your sorrows, let this day be the last
Well, tomorrow there'll be sunshine and all this darkness past
Well, big wheels roll through fields where sunlight streams
Oh, meet me in a land of hope and dreams
Well, this train carries saints and sinners
This train carries losers and winners
This train carries hores and gamblers
This train carries lost souls
I said, this train, dreams will not be thwarted
This train, faith will be rewarded
This train, hear the steel wheels singing
This train, bells of freedom ringing
#56580 Jul 27, 2013
There are strange things done 'neath the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold.
The arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold.
The northern lights have seen queer sights
But the queerest they ever did see,
Was that night on the marge of Lake LeBarge
When I cremated Sam McGee.
Now Sam McGee was from Tenessee
Where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the south to roam
'round the poles, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold
Seemed to hold him like a spell,
Though he'd often say in his homely way
That he'd sooner live in Hell.
On a Christmas day we were mushing our way
Over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold, through the parka's fold
It stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze
'til sometimes we couldn't see.
It wasn't much fun, but the only one
To whimper was Sam McGee.
And that very night while we lay packed tight
In our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'er head
Were dancing heel and toe,
He turns to me, and "Cap" says he
"I'll cash in this trip, I guess.
And if I do, I'm asking that you
Won't refuse my last request."
Well, he looked so low that I couldn't say no,
Then he says with a sort of a moan,
"It's the cursed cold, it's got right hold
'til I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet tain't being dead, it's my awful dread
Of an icy grave that pains.
So I want you to swear that foul or fair,
You'll cremate my last remains."
Well, a friend's last need is a thing to heed,
So I swore I would not fail.
We started on at the streak of dawn,
But, God, he looked ghastly pale!
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day
Of his home in Tenessee,
And before nightfall, a corpse was all
That was left of Sam McGee.
There wasn't a breath in that land of death,
And I hurried on, horror stricken.
With a corpse half hid, that I couldn't get rid,
Because of a promise I'd given.
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say,
"You may tax your brawn and your brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you
To cremate these last remains."
Now, a promise made is a debt unpaid,
And the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come,'though my lips were dumb,
In my heart, how I cursed the load.
In the long, long night by the lone firelight
While the huskies 'round in a ring
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows
Oh, God, how I loathed the thing.
And every day that quiet clay
Seemed to heavy and heavier grow.
But on I went, though the dogs were spent
And the grub was getting low.
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad,
But I swore I would not give in.
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing
And it harkened with a grin!
Then I came to the marge of Lake LeBarge
And a derelict there lay.
It was choked with ice, but I say in a thrice
It was named the "Alice May".
I looked at it, and I thought a bit,
Then I turned to my frozen chum,
And "This" said I with a sudden cry
"Is my crematorium!"
Some planks I tore from the cabin floor
And lit the boiler fire.
Some coal I found that was lying around
And heaped the fuel higher.
The furnace roared and the flames they soared,
Such a blaze you seldom see.
Then I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal
And I stuffed in Sam McGee.
Then I made a hike, for I didn't like
to hear him sizzle so.
And the heavens scowled and the huskies howled
and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled
down my cheeks, I don't know why.
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak
went streaking down the sky.
#56581 Jul 27, 2013
I do not know how long in the snow
I wrestled with grisly fear.
But the stars were out and they danced about
'ere again I ventured near.
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said
"I'll just take a peek inside.
He's probably cooked, it's time I looked."
Then the door I opened wide.
And there sat Sam, looking cold and calm
In the heart of the furnace roar.
He wore a smile you could see a mile,
And he said "Please shut that door!
It's warm in here, but I greatly fear
You'll let in the cold and storm.
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tenessee,
It's the first time I've been warm."
#56582 Jul 27, 2013
Try really hard not to piss of Anon. She gets a little mad on weekends. Just saying.....LOL!
#56583 Jul 27, 2013
"At times we lose people because they don't understand what we are saying, because we have forgotten the language of simplicity and import an intellectualism foreign to our people," he said. "Without the grammar of simplicity, the church loses the very conditions which make it possible to fish for God in the deep waters of his mystery."
#56584 Jul 27, 2013
I don't understand poetry very well. I understand Barfly's vulgarities much better but the Sam Magee poem is very, very sad and maybe some of us would be happier in Hell rather than here in this sick diocese with so many spiritually sick people especially at the top. The spiritually poor leadership we have leaves much to be desired. Eventually all the sheep will have the same sickness. They give us no hope and they keep scattering the most faithful. I hope Christ will make their conscience hurt.
#56585 Jul 28, 2013
You are right, you don't understand poetry very well. The Cremation of Sam Magee is anything but sad! It is about hope and never giving up. It was quoted in an attempt to lighten the mood.
#56586 Jul 28, 2013
Closings of the parishes is on the horizon!
#56587 Jul 28, 2013
Sell summer huts and give to the poor, said Pope Francis!
#56588 Jul 28, 2013
Sell you Lexuses and distribute the moneys to the poor!
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