We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
“Still, it is true, lamb," said Satan. "Look at you in war—what mutton you are, and how ridiculous!" "In war? How?" "There has never been a just one, never an honorable one—on the part of the instigator of the war. I can see a million years ahead, and this rule will never change in so many as half a dozen instances. The loud little handful—as usual—will shout for the war. The pulpit will—warily and cautiously—object—at first; the great, big, dull bulk of the nation will rub its sleepy eyes and try to make out why there should be a war, and will say, earnestly and indignantly, "It is unjust and dishonorable, and there is no necessity for it." Then the handful will shout louder. A few fair men on the other side will argue and reason against the war with speech and pen, and at first will have a hearing and be applauded; but it will not last long; those others will outshout them, and presently the anti-war audiences will thin out and lose popularity. Before long you will see this curious thing: the speakers stoned from the platform, and free speech strangled by hordes of furious men who in their secret hearts are still at one with those stoned speakers—as earlier—but do not dare to say so. And now the whole nation—pulpit and all—will take up the war-cry, and shout itself hoarse, and mob any honest man who ventures to open his mouth; and presently such mouths will cease to open. Next the statesmen will invent cheap lies, putting the blame upon the nation that is attacked, and every man will be glad of those conscience-soothing falsities, and will diligently study them, and refuse to examine any refutations of them; and thus he will by and by convince himself that the war is just, and will thank God for the better sleep he enjoys after this process of grotesque self-deception.”
Not an important war, but the Brits did burn down my hometown in Connecticut. Also, the small town of Washington DC. Fort McHenry is in it, and New Orleans too.
Really, only Canadians still remember much about it except for the song.
1:6 So when they had come together, they asked him, "Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?"
1:7 He replied, "It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority.
1:8 But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth."
1:9 When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight.
1:10 While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them.
1:11 They said, "Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven."
1:12 Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a sabbath day's journey away.
1:13 When they had entered the city, they went to the room upstairs where they were staying, Peter, and John, and James, and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealot, and Judas son of James.
1:14 All these were constantly devoting themselves to prayer, together with certain women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, as well as his brothers.
"Weimaraners are a medium to large pointing dog breed that are tireless, cooperative workers and loyal companions with a strong protective instinct.
The story of the Weimaraner has all the elements of a Hollywood melodrama. It is a classic tale of how marketing, money and the vain pursuit of blue ribbons can turn a noble breed of hunting dog into a caricature of its former self. Fortunately, like any good melodrama, there’s a happy ending. "
Why not? No lines. For the few of us who showed up this morning they gave us a voucher for a 2-hour $200 detailing. Nice, but who has time for that?
Cars and wheels are filthy, but it's the inside that really needs the expert cleaning. Yeah, House Wren got into one of our cars where I left the window open, and it crapped all over. Not my job.
Our friend thinks not. I happen to love the flavor. As with cranberries, use 1/2 the sugar a recipe asks for to get the full flavor. Boil it with a little water and sugar and dump it on vanilla ice cream. I'd go for a rhubarb gelato too, if anybody made it. Or a tarte.
I drove my Smart Car (in photo) over to check the patch and observed that it is happy but has bolted. I chopped off those cool flowers and Mrs. BD put them in a vase.
A Wall Street accountant turned professional escort says she's a psychopath – 
"Weimaraners are a medium to large pointing dog breed that are tireless, cooperative workers and loyal companions with a strong protective instinct.
How your brain