TSCLT 12.0: The pantheon hates a pussy 2.0

[Wat_Tyler]

 

[JohnnySavage]

It's true

 

[Wat_Tyler]

God damn right!!!

 

[thør]

What?

 

[Wat_Tyler]

What?

That tits make you lose your mind.

The Hawk in His Nest​

By: Robert Bly​

It's all right if this suffering goes on for years.
It's all right if the hawk never finds his own nest.
It's all right if we never receive the love we want.

It's all right if we listen to the sitar for hours.
It doesn't matter how softly the musician plays.
Sooner or later the melody will say it all.

It doesn't matter if we regret our crimes or not.
The mice will carry our defeats into Asia,
And the Tuva throat-singers will tell the whole story.

It's all right if we can't remain cheerful all day.
The task we have accepted is to go down
To renew our friendship with the ruined things.

It's all right if people think we are idiots.
It's all right if we lie face down on the earth.
It's all right if we open the coffin and climb in.

It's not our fault that things have gone wrong.
Let's agree it was Saturn and the other old men
Who have arranged these series of defeats for us.

 

[Wat_Tyler]

So, as some of you may remember, there was the never-popular Jabba s000per on my last job. Not my last assignment - I had other idjits there. I had Jabba Senior as the PM and Jabba s00per as the "lead s000per," and that is pronounced "led" and not "leed." I had those Jabbas as my albatrosses for quite a while. Anyway, it helped to build character, I suppose.


Jabba s000per had told me that he had worked for this company. He also told me that he lost his job here when they did away with our department. They have now reinstalled our department, and in so doing, they hired back the old PM, and he's now the director. This guy really was downsized out. So I asked about Jabba, and he told me that he got shitcanned for being the charming and moderately competent asshat I had come to know and loathe. Shitcanned. Sacked. Not downsized.


I always knew he was lying scum, and now I know the rest of the story.

 

[thør]

Stand by for news!

 

[Wat_Tyler]

They're squawking about some bible shit on the other board and blaming christians, and it's some ancient jewish law. Shit like this makes me so fucking glad to be a Muslim. Allahu Akbar!!!


Which reminds me, I need to pick up my suicide vest from the cleaners on my way home . . . .

 

[Wat_Tyler]

Home. We still have maters, so there's one of those cut and served how I like the motherfuckers.


I think that the drywall/paint bossman has finally gotten it through his fucking head that we're serious here. Funny thing is, we had a long talk about how we're going to do it differently on the next floor. But we ain't "we." Because he won't be doing the next floor.


We may look into another horse.

 

[Wat_Tyler]

More than any individual battle or military decision, Nazi Germany was doomed by economics. By building their war machine in the manner they did, they trapped themselves into a military vulture economy that could only postpone collapse by embarking on increasingly unwinnable wars.

If the events of 1938–1941 were fiction rather than fact, they would not be seen as the inevitable product of German military superiority but would be criticized as unrealistic, heavy-handed satire. Ultimately, though, Hitler and the Wehrmacht ultimately ran out of miracles and were crushed under the weight of economic reality.

 

[Wat_Tyler]

On this date in 1848 – Vermont railroad worker Phineas Gage survives an iron rod 1+1⁄4 inches (3.2 cm) in diameter being driven through his brain; the reported effects on his behavior and personality stimulate discussion of the nature of the brain and its functions.


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phineas_Gage

This story has always amazed me since time I first heard it.

 

[Brains_N_Boobs]

https://enf-cmnf.com/tube/videos/37...-a-fully-clothed-man-and-plays-with-her-body/

 

[Brains_N_Boobs]

 

[Brains_N_Boobs]

 

[Wat_Tyler]

Behavior is the mirror in which everyone shows their image.

~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe


Even as a great rock is not shaken by the wind, the wise man is not shaken by praise or blame.

~ Buddha


Happy Thursday!!! Slept okay, like mostly straight through. Today, we experiment with no a/c and see how that goes. So we have some open windows and a bit of fresh air moving about. No rain day in the forecast for several days.


We do have a go-get for the free old car. Except for the gasoline, which isn't bad. That will be at the end of the month.


We have coffee now . . . .

 

[JohnnySavage]

My garden is all but done for the season. Temps in the 40s overnight. Not even enough tomatoes this year to can. Two zukes... TWO! Normally one plant can feed a hundred. I have cukes in abundance, which will go into the pickle crock. 10 cabbage plants that are the size of soft balls. Maybe will get a quart or two of Kraut. Three cant elopes the size of soft balls. Nary a single brussel sprout or sugar pea. A dozen or so cayennes that I put on a string to dry and a gallon zippy bag of assorted hot peppers I will make paste out of.

 

[Wat_Tyler]

Wow, that's lame. Of course, I blame Glowball Warming.


On the job. People are getting shitrock done. Of course, they're a week and a half late. For that, I also blame Glowball Warming.


I did win $4 on my last $2 lott'reh ticket. For that, Glowball Warming had nothing to do with it.

 

[Bidin~Time]

Since I am not wantin to hurt JS's feelings over garden things, and because he has no control over the weather in his part of the state, I'll just say I was busy in the kitchen for the last month. My pantry is in better shape than in years past when our weather and the deer-goats didn't work with me in a positive manner.

 

[Wat_Tyler]

The landlady won't put in a garden because deer. I'd have to build an enclosure to make it work.


Maybe one day . . . .

 

[Wat_Tyler]

Trees are Sanctuaries​

By: Hermann Hesse​

For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers.

I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone.

They are like lonely persons.

Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfil themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves.

Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree.

When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured.

And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.

Trees are sanctuaries.

Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.

A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark.

I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.

A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy.

Out of this trust I live.

When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts.

Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.

A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning.

It is not so much a matter of escaping from one's suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.

So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours.

They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy.

Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is.

That is home. That is happiness.

 

[Wat_Tyler]

I have worked some goofs like this, but Wat was nicer.

 

[thør]

The landlady won't put in a garden because deer. I'd have to build an enclosure to make it work.


Maybe one day . . . .

Moose will jump a 6' fence to get to snap peas.

 

[Wat_Tyler]

We have no moose. Mooses, either.


Thanks be to Allah . . . manifold blessings . . . great mercies . . . .

 

[Bidin~Time]

I have had better luck dissuading the deer from the garden (and rabbits and other small critters too) by putting a couple of motion sensor, solar powered lights around the garden. I do not know if they would startled a moose enough to run off in moose terror. We don't have moose and to be honest, I can't imagine much, if anything terrorizing a ginormous creature that is a moose, sooo prolly wouldn't work in Thor's garden.

 

[Wat_Tyler]

Ah hain't thought uvvit nur heared tell of sichathang. Motion deetecktruz. Hmmm.


Getting the schedule made for coming around turn 4 . . . .