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Coffee and Kurds

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Monday. A very unremarkable day. But that is not a bad thing. Really.

Coffee, a big chocolate chip cookie, news feeds and social sites. The stuff of mornings.

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Kurdish Feminism

 

I am starting to wonder if the Kurds are kin to the Jews, they get betrayed so much by their ‘friends’. But we abandon them with hardly a thought or backward glance. They were useful when we fought in Iran, and useful when we fought in Syria.

I do admire them and wish the US still retained that same idealism and dedication that they have. But I fear that love of country and nationalism has become passè with the new generation. We never learn from history.

A couple of birthdays on facebook. Quick happy wishes to them. A comment on the blog. One new blog and a comment, and my morning chores on the ‘net are done.

The days roll by, more body parts start complaining. Snooks feeds her livestock and family. The sun continues to rise as the morning unfolds.

Good morning!

Morning Grump and Coffee

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101914_1729_Somedays1.jpgOnce again, a clean sheet of faux paper glares balefully back at me, knowing that my mind is still full of cobwebs and that I am not fully caffeinated yet.  I had a restless night of odd dreams and aching body parts until I finally arose in defeat and medicated myself into tranquility. I don’t like doing that because I miss the sunrise and sleep in late.

Image result for dogs watching me eatThe mutts and cats were fed, the coffee brewed, the bird sufficiently annoyed and the studio blinds were opened as I staggered into the studio with coffee cup and cookies. Of course, the mutts who had been busy barking at some feline activity half a mile down the road, still heard the faint clink as the cookie jar was opened, magically appeared and followed me into the room. Beggers!

The news was predictable. A Presidential tweet offended half the population. A new ‘whistle blower’ appears on the scene since the last one was obviously a dud. There is the Ukraine this, and the Ukraine that. A mother sells a baby for dope money. More human feces in the Golden state. Rocket man Kim rattles his saber. Democrats threaten impeachment, or at least look into the looking into it procedure. Leftist polls show the President losing, right polls show him winning. Someone proves the dead were voting in Colorado.

And the refrain from the Kingston Trio’s Merry Minuet plays in my head: ♫♪They’re rioting in Africa, and Texas need rain.♫♪ I would give you a video clip of it here, but I just have the cheapie WordPress account that kills the advertising, but doesn’t allow me to include videos. Personally, to me, that would be a blessing as a reader, but apparently a lot of you like them.

Snook is on the treadmill, so I get a few more minutes until I start the waffle making this Sunday. Not feeling all that inspired, so it will be plain waffles and turkey sausage. And today I send in the grocery list to the nice people who shop it and deliver it to my porch. I am so decadent.

So that about rounds it out for the day.

Good morning!

 

A Scapegoat and a Mystery

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I tend to believe that the rotation of biblical holy days is significant, and that the fall holy days are more significant than the spring holy days because they point to a time to come, and the order of that coming. Many disagree, but c’est la vie, I go on my merry way.
So, I ask: Why is Rosh HaShannah before Yom Kippur, and Yom Kippur before Sukkot, and why do they end with Shemini Atzeret?
One sage says this, another sage says that, yet another sage says the other. All this mystery! Could it be that a very few elect know, but the rest of us must wait for the revelation?
Oh well. Shabbat Shalom!

Can I be the only male in the world whose dream house doesn’t have a car parked in the living room?  

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Amazing Garage Ultimate Bachelor Pad

Can I be the only male in the world whose dream house doesn’t have a car parked in the living room?

 

 

Some day it will change, someday …

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OK.

Blank sheet of paper.

Sheet of paper? It is just a monitor with a bunch of pixels turned white and bright. Hexadecimally ffffff. (255) (255) (255) in the simulation of a sheet of paper.

Image result for 1950's brother typewriter in caseI remember typing on a Brother typewriter a few æons back. Pica typeface … no spellcheck, no italics, no bold. And you had to backspace to underline. Paper was NOT cheap for a budding writer back then, and you hated to waste a sheet of the precious stuff just to start over again. I think that is where I learned to hate poetry. Poets erase a lot, and to erase on a typewriter you had to backspace, get out the pencil eraser, and leave a gray smudge to type over.

And you needed a thesaurus and a dictionary on the bookshelf beside the table. There was no rhyming dictionary to help you over the stumpies … you had to have your thoughts in order before you put something down.  Perhaps that is why so many writers from the middle of the century smoked pipes. Sometimes you just needed to sit back in your chair and let your mind go. But I quit smoking, so I am left with leaning back in my chair, taking a sip of coffee and wondering where to go next with this stream of consciences post.

Damn! There is that ubiquitous coffee cup again! This has morphed off into another coffee post.

*sip!*101014_2008_Alittleexpe1.jpg

The days are cooling finally. It will only get up to 96° today. Time to drag out the woolies.  We get chilled at 75° here.  The county has a burn ban, but perhaps later in the week a 40% chance of rain will give us some moisture. But if you never go outside anyway, it doesn’t matter. The house stays 75° all day, and 66° at night with the electric blankets set to toast.

So here is your morning coffee post … but dammit, I AM going to change that.  Really.  Yeppers! Some day it will change.

~r

 

 

 

The day of the trumpets …

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Sunday. For some of us, the week begins. And for some of us the New Year begins at sundown with Rosh Hashanah, also known as Yom Truah. The Day of Trumpets. Some day in the future, one special shofar will sound. May this Yom Truah be that day.