Barack Obama, our next President

"The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep," Obama cautioned. Young and charismatic but with little experience on the national level, Obama smashed through racial barriers and easily defeated ... Full Story
Lord Fetch

Chicago, IL

#801120 Nov 9, 2012
I have nothing to give but my heart so full and these empty hands."

"They're not empty now.

-W. Axl Rose
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801122 Nov 9, 2012
"No, never repeat that foolish gossip, and forget it as soon as you can," said Mrs. March gravely. "I was very unwise to let you go among people of whom I know so little, kind, I dare say, but worldly, ill-bred, and full of these vulgar ideas about young people. I am more sorry than I can express for the mischief this visit may have done you, Meg."

"Don't be sorry, I won't let it hurt me. I'll forget all the bad and remember only the good, for I did enjoy a great deal, and thank you very much for letting me go. I'll not be sentimental or dissatisfied, Mother. I know I'm a silly little girl, and I'll stay with you till I'm fit to take care of myself. But it is nice to be praised and admired, and I can't help saying I like it," said Meg, looking half ashamed of the confession.

"That is perfectly natural, and quite harmless, if the liking does not become a passion and lead one to do foolish or unmaidenly things. Learn to know and value the praise which is worth having, and to excite the admiration of excellent people by being modest as well as pretty, Meg."

Margaret sat thinking a moment, while Jo stood with her hands behind her, looking both interested and a little perplexed, for it was a new thing to see Meg blushing and talking about admiration, lovers, and things of that sort. And Jo felt as if during that fortnight her sister had grown up amazingly, and was drifting away from her into a world where she could not follow.

"Mother, do you have `plans', as Mrs. Moffat said?" asked Meg bashfully.

"Yes, my dear, I have a great many, all mothers do, but mine differ somewhat from Mrs. Moffat's, I suspect. I will tell you some of them, for the time has come when a word may set this romantic little head and heart of yours right, on a very serious subject. You are young, Meg, but not too young to understand me, and mothers' lips are the fittest to speak of such things to girls like you. Jo, your turn will come in time, perhaps, so listen to my `plans' and help me carry them out, if they are good."

Jo went and sat on one arm of the chair, looking as if she thought they were about to join in some very solemn affair. Holding a hand of each, and watching the two young faces wistfully, Mrs. March said, in her serious yet cheery way ...
Lord Fetch

Chicago, IL

#801123 Nov 9, 2012
carol wrote:
<quoted text>
You mind scratching me over here?
will the rubber gloves be provided?
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801124 Nov 9, 2012
THE SAME CHARACTERISTICS THAT MAKE RURAL AMERICANS GOOD SOLDIERS ALSO SERVE TO MAKE THEM POOR SLEEPERS: THEY DON'T SEEM TO KNOW WHEN TO LIE DOWN?
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801126 Nov 9, 2012
"I want my daughters to be beautiful, accomplished, and good. To be admired, loved, and respected. To have a happy youth, to be well and wisely married, and to lead useful, pleasant lives, with as little care and sorrow to try them as God sees fit to send. To be loved and chosen by a good man is the best and sweetest thing which can happen to a woman, and I sincerely hope my girls may know this beautiful experience. It is natural to think of it, Meg, right to hope and wait for it, and wise to prepare for it, so that when the happy time comes, you may feel ready for the duties and worthy of the joy. My dear girls, I am ambitious for you, but not to have you make a dash in the world, marry rich men merely because they are rich, or have splendid houses, which are not homes because love is wanting. Money is a needful and precious thing, and when well used, a noble thing, but I never want you to think it is the first or only prize to strive for. I'd rather see you poor men's wives, if you were happy, beloved, contented, than queens on thrones, without self-respect and peace."

"Poor girls don't stand any chance, Belle says, unless they put themselves forward," sighed Meg.

"Then we'll be old maids," said Jo stoutly.

"Right, Jo. Better be happy old maids than unhappy wives, or unmaidenly girls, running about to find husbands," said Mrs. March decidedly. "Don't be troubled, Meg, poverty seldom daunts a sincere lover. Some of the best and most honored women I know were poor girls, but so love-worthy that they were not allowed to be old maids. Leave these things to time. Make this home happy, so that you may be fit for homes of your own, if they are offered you, and contented here if they are not. One thing remember, my girls. Mother is always ready to be your confidante, Father to be your friend, and both of hope and trust that our daughters, whether married or single, will be the pride and comfort of out lives."
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801127 Nov 9, 2012
DEBIL NOT HERE TO CONVERSE WITH YOU, SWEETIE, QUITE THE CONTRARY. STICK WITH IT THOUGH, YOU'LL FIGURE IT OUT... OR NOT..

“I'm here with bells on.”

Since: Jul 12

Location hidden

#801128 Nov 9, 2012
Skidrow Bums Party wrote:
<quoted text>
You would rather have a free candy bar than work for a plate of beef and broccoli.
FREEBEE BUM party.
And you would rather have a government defense contract than a job cleaning toilets.

What's your point?
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801130 Nov 9, 2012
As spring came on, a new set of amusements became the fashion, and the lengthening days gave long afternoons for work and play of all sorts. The garden had to be put in order, and each sister had a quarter of the little plot to do what she liked with. Hannah used to say, "I'd know which each of them gardings belonged to, ef I see 'em in Chiny," and so she might, for the girls' tastes differed as much as their characters. Meg's had roses and heliotrope, myrtle, and a little orange tree in it. Jo's bed was never alike two seasons, for she was always trying experiments. This year it was to be a plantation of sun flowers, the seeds of which cheerful land aspiring plant were to feed Aunt Cockle-top and her family of chicks. Beth had old-fashioned fragrant flowers in her garden, sweet peas and mignonette, larkspur, pinks, pansies, and southernwood, with chickweed for the birds and catnip for the pussies. Amy had a bower in hers, rather small and earwiggy, but very pretty to look at, with honeysuckle and morning-glories hanging their colored horns and bells in graceful wreaths all over it, tall white lilies, delicate ferns, and as many brilliant, picturesque plants as would consent to blossom there.

Gardening, walks, rows on the river, and flower hunts employed the fine days, and for rainy ones, they had house diversions, some old, some new, all more or less original. One of these was the `P.C', for as secret societies were the fashion, it was thought proper to have one, and as all of the girls admired Dickens, they called themselves the Pickwick Club. With a few interruptions, they had kept this up for a year, and met every Saturday evening in the big garret, on which occasions the ceremonies were as follows: Three chairs were arranged in a row before a table on which was a lamp, also four white badges, with a big `P.C.' in different colors on each, and the weekly newspaper called, The Pickwick Portfolio, to which all contributed something, while Jo, who reveled in pens and ink, was the editor. At seven o'clock, the four members ascended to the clubroom, tied their badges round their heads, and took their seats with great solemnity. Meg, as the eldest, was Samuel Pickwick, Jo, being of a literary turn, Augustus Snodgrass, Beth, because she was round and rosy, Tracy Tupman, and Amy, who was always trying to do what she couldn't, was Nathaniel Winkle. Pickwick, the president, read the paper, which was filled with original tales, poetry, local news, funny advertisements, and hints, in which they good-naturedly reminded each other of their faults and short comings. On one occasion, Mr. Pickwick put on a pair of spectacles without any glass, rapped upon the table, hemmed, and having stared hard at Mr. Snodgrass, who was tilting back in his chair, till he arranged himself properly, began to read:
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801131 Nov 9, 2012
Again we meet to celebrate
With badge and solemn rite,
Our fifty-second anniversary,
In Pickwick Hall, tonight.

We all are here in perfect health,
None gone from our small band:
Again we see each well-known face,
And press each friendly hand.

Our Pickwick, always at his post,
With reverence we greet,
As, spectacles on nose, he reads
Our well-filled weekly sheet.

Although he suffers from a cold,
We joy to hear him speak,
For words of wisdom from him fall,
In spite of croak or squeak.

Old six-foot Snodgrass looms on high,
With elephantine grace,
And beams upon the company,
With brown and jovial face.

Poetic fire lights up his eye,
He struggles 'gainst his lot.
Behold ambition on his brow,
And on his nose, a blot.

Next our peaceful Tupman comes,
So rosy, plump, and sweet,
Who chokes with laughter at the puns,
And tumbles off his seat.

Prim little Winkle too is here,
With every hair in place,
A model of propriety,
Though he hates to wash his face.

The year is gone, we still unite
To joke and laugh and read,
And tread the path of literature
That doth to glory lead.

Long may our paper prosper well,
Our club unbroken be,
And coming years their blessings pour
On the useful, gay `P. C.'.
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801132 Nov 9, 2012
Gondola after gondola swept up to the marble steps, and left its lovely load to swell the brilliant throng that filled the stately halls of Count Adelon. Knights and ladies, elves and pages, monks and flower girls, all mingled gaily in the dance. Sweet voices and rich melody filled the air, and so with mirth and music the masquerade went on. "Has your Highness seen the Lady viola tonight?" asked a gallant troubadour of the fairy queen who floated down the hall upon his arm.

"Yes, is she not lovely, though so sad! Her dress is well chosen, too, for in a week she weds Count Antonio, whom she passionately hates."

"By my faith, I envy him. Yonder he comes, arrayed like a bridegroom, except the black mask. When that is off we shall see how he regards the fair maid whose heart he cannot win, though her stern father bestows her hand," returned the troubadour.

"Tis whispered that she loves the young English artist who haunts her steps, and is spurned by the old Count," said the lady, as they joined the dance.

The revel was at its height when a priest appeared, and withdrawing the young pair to an alcove, hung with purple velvet, he motioned them to kneel. Instant silence fell on the gay throng, and not a sound, but he dash of fountains or the rustle of orange groves sleeping in the moonlight, broke the hush, as Count de Adelon spoke thus:

"My lords and ladies, pardon the ruse by which I have gathered you here to witness the marriage of my daughter. Father, we wait your services."

All eyes turned toward the bridal party, and a murmur of amazement went through the throng, for neither bride nor groom removed their masks. Curiosity and wonder possessed all hearts, but respect restrained all tongues till the holy rite was over. Then the eager spectators gathered round the count, demanding an explanation.

"Gladly would I give it if I could, but I only know that it was the whim of my timid Viola, and I yielded to it. Now, my children, let the play end. Unmask and receive my blessing."

But neither bent the knee, for the young bridegroom replied in a tone that startled all listeners as the mask fell, disclosing the noble face of Ferdinand Devereux, the artist lover, and leaning on the breast where now flashed the star of an English earl was the lovely Viola, radiant with joy and beauty.

"My lord, you scornfully bade me claim your daughter when I could boast as high a name and vast a fortune as the Count Antonio. I can do more, for even your ambitious soul cannot refuse the Earl of Devereux and De Vere, when he gives his ancient name and boundless wealth in return for the beloved hand of this fair lady, now my wife.

The count stood like one changed to stone, and turning to the bewildered crowd, Ferdinand added, with a gay smile of triumph, "To you, my gallant friends, I can only wish that your wooing may prosper as mine has done, and that you may all win as fair a bride as I have by this masked marriage."

S. PICKWICK
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801133 Nov 9, 2012
Why is the P. C. like the Tower of Babel?

It is full of unruly members.

STUMBLED ON THIS ONE, IT'S DELIGHTFUL... A HAPPY ACCIDENT.
TheIndependentMa jority

Somerset, KY

#801134 Nov 9, 2012
Soo, how much hate n spew pages any one miss here today-Bueller..

GOD Bless America, our troops, the CONSTITUTION and TERM LIMITS in the office of POTUS.

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely"

Absolute power corrupts absolutely" arose as part of a quotation by the expansively named and impressively hirsute John Emerich Edward Dalberg Acton, first Baron Acton (18341902). The historian and moralist, who was otherwise known simply as Lord Acton, expressed this opinion in a letter to Bishop Mandell Creighton in 1887:

"Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men."

Good reason why--NOT to strive absolutely for "greatness".-NOT from some commieTic credo somewhere.

Oh, the soul doth wanteth, for the pillows now lol.

Since: Dec 08

Location hidden

#801135 Nov 9, 2012
"...He get's away with murder..."

http://youtu.be/MDNO4SWKRgE
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801136 Nov 9, 2012
SO, UM, HOW ARE THINGS IN.. UM.. KALI-SPELL... MON.. MONTANA, EH? IS THAT A REAL PLACE? ARE YOU ONE OF THOSE... WHAT DO YOU CALL 'EM?... OH YES! COWPEOPLE? HOW CHARMING! A REAL COWPERSON! WAIT TIL I TELL MILLIE, SHE'LL BE GREEN WITH ENVY! WHERE WAS I?
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801137 Nov 9, 2012
Once upon a time a farmer planted a little seed. in his garden, and after a while it sprouted and became a vine and bore many squashes. One day in October, when they were ripe, he picked one and took it to market. A grocerman bought and put it in his shop. That same morning, a little girl in a brown hat and blue dress, with a round face and snub nose, went and bought it for her mother. She lugged it home, cut it up, and boiled it in the big pot, mashed some of it salt and butter, for dinner. And to the rest she added a pint of milk, two eggs, four spoons of sugar, nutmeg, and some crackers, put it in a deep dish, and baked it till it was brown and nice, and next day it was eaten by a family named March.

T. TUPMAN

Mr. Pickwick, Sir:--

I address you upon the subject of sin the sinner I mean is a man named Winkle who makes trouble in his club by laughing and sometimes won't write his piece in this fine paper I hope you will pardon his badness and let him send a French fable because he can't write out of his head as he has so many lessons to do and no brains in future I will try to take time by the fetlock and prepare some work which will be all commy la fo that means all right I am in haste as it is nearly school time.

Yours respectably,
N. WINKLE

[The above is a manly and handsome aknowledgment of past misdemeanors. If our young friend studied punctuation, it would be well.]

“Amor patriae.”

Since: Feb 08

Eastern Oregon

#801138 Nov 9, 2012
THE DEBIL wrote:
(SO, UM, HOW IT FEEL TO SEE YOU FRIENDS, YOU ENTIRE WORLDVIEW, SHREDDED? DEBIL CAIN'T HEP BUT NOTICE YOU CLOTHES IN RAGS... YOU STILL ENJOYIN' YOUSELF? CAUSE DEBIL TAKE YOU WORDS TO HEART AN' NOW HE JUS' ENJOYIN' HISSELF TOO. YOU RECKON ANYBODY ELSE IS THOUGH?)
I'm pretty much immune to Obama's machinations, for now, but really, after January is when the party starts.
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801139 Nov 9, 2012
Sister Kathryn Lust wrote:
<quoted text>And you would rather have a government defense contract than a job cleaning toilets.
What's your point?
STILL RESISTING MY PROSE, SISTER? OR IS YOUR RESOLVE BEGINNING TO WEAKEN?(THERE ARE AT LEAST THREE GOOD PUNS IN THERE, ALL OF THEM INTENTIONAL...)
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801140 Nov 9, 2012
killtaker wrote:
"...He get's away with murder..."
http://youtu.be/MDNO8SWKRgE
NOW THAT WE'VE MET YOU AGAIN WHY WOULDN'T WE WANT HIM TO?

Since: Dec 08

Location hidden

#801141 Nov 9, 2012
THE DEBIL wrote:
Again we meet to celebrate
With badge and solemn rite,
Our fifty-second anniversary,
In Pickwick Hall, tonight.
We all are here in perfect health,
None gone from our small band:
Again we see each well-known face,
And press each friendly hand.
Our Pickwick, always at his post,
With reverence we greet,
As, spectacles on nose, he reads
Our well-filled weekly sheet.
Although he suffers from a cold,
We joy to hear him speak,
For words of wisdom from him fall,
In spite of croak or squeak.
Old six-foot Snodgrass looms on high,
With elephantine grace,
And beams upon the company,
With brown and jovial face.
Poetic fire lights up his eye,
He struggles 'gainst his lot.
Behold ambition on his brow,
And on his nose, a blot.
Next our peaceful Tupman comes,
So rosy, plump, and sweet,
Who chokes with laughter at the puns,
And tumbles off his seat.
Prim little Winkle too is here,
With every hair in place,
A model of propriety,
Though he hates to wash his face.
The year is gone, we still unite
To joke and laugh and read,
And tread the path of literature
That doth to glory lead.
Long may our paper prosper well,
Our club unbroken be,
And coming years their blessings pour
On the useful, gay `P. C.'.
"When in doubt I whip it out I got me a rock 'n' roll band It's a free-for-all"

Ted Nugent

“My Life Is A Shell Game”

Since: May 07

Lapeer, MI

#801142 Nov 9, 2012
GhostofRaygun wrote:
<quoted text>Oh,,, If we could just have elected this great American as our leader. Look what he could have done for all businesses.
What a businessman Mitt is.
.
WASHINGTON -- On Tuesday, officials from Bain Capital-owned Sensata Technologies threatened to shut down its north-central Illinois plant "immediately and indefinitely" if those protesting the offshoring of the facility's jobs entered the plant in an act of civil disobedience again, according to local city officials.
The plant in Freeport, Ill., which is already scheduled to close at the end of the year, has become an embarrassing campaign issue for GOP presidential nominee Mitt Romney who still owns 51% of the Bain Capital stock. The factory's 170 jobs are being relocated to China. Activists and workers have called on Romney to use his influence with Bain to halt the offshoring.
Stupid is, Stupid does. You are Stupid, alright. Romney placed all of his holdings into a trust. Many politicians do this to cut any ties between their political actions and potential gains from those actions. But that's not good enough for Liberal headhunters. The man did the right thing. Not only that but he left Bain leadership a long time ago.

This is like blaming Joe Schmoe from Hoboken, NJ for the Boy Messiah's abandonment and death of America's Foreign Service Personnel in Benghazi because Joe Schmoe is an American citizen. You kids need to run along and play now:>

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