… I was looking through some boxes of old papers in the basement and came across the copy of my birth certificate I got when we went on the family cruise back in 2003. On it was listed the address where my parents were living at the time, the house I spent my first 3 years in. The house where my brother and I (5 and 3 yrs old at the time) “cleaned” our new-born sisters diapers for my mom. We cleaned them by wiping the mess off of them onto the wall paper. Back when wallpaper was paper, not the easily cleanable vinyl it is now. Yeah, mom & dad were pretty happy with us.
… So I decided to look up the old place on Google Maps. As soon as I saw the picture from above, I knew it was the right place. Not exactly sure why, but I had a vague feeling that I remembered the curve at the end of the street and the woods down there. I’m also pretty sure that big building across the street wasn’t there, I remember crossing the street to visit a really old lady (probably in her 50’s) ‘cause she had the best candy, out in the open, on her coffee table. I remember being told years later that she was a Holocaust survivor.
… It amazes me the images and feelings that these pictures brought back after some 40+ years. Of course I’ll never be sure how much of them are things that I was told later in life, and how much I actually remember, but I have pictures in my head of that candy dish, with the rectangular brown candies in it, sitting on the coffee table. And I remember wanting to go down the street and climb through the wrought iron fence to play in the woods. And that I was Steve, and the other Steve in the neighborhood was “Steve-down-the-block”. Which was ironic because in the neighborhood I moved into when I was 4 (to 14), there was “Big Steve” (older than me), “Little Steve” (younger than me) and, once again, I was just “Steve”.
Thanks to jmpnmark for this one.
I just want to thank all of you for your educational e-mails over the past year. I am totally screwed up now and have little chance of recovery.
I no longer open a public bathroom door without using a paper towel or have them put lemon slices in my ice water without worrying about the bacteria on the lemon peel.
I have trouble shaking hands with someone who has been driving because the number one pastime while driving alone is picking ones nose (although cell phone usage may be taking the number one spot).
Eating a little snack sends me on a guilt trip because I can only imagine how many gallons of Trans fats I have consumed over the years.
I can't touch any woman's purse for fear she has placed it on the floor of a public bathroom.
I MUST SEND MY SPECIAL THANKS to whoever sent me the one about poop in the glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet sponge with every envelope that needs sealing.
I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl (Penny Brown) who is about to die in the hospital for the 1,387,258th time.
I no longer have any money at all, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.
I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me, and St. Theresa's Novena has granted my every wish.
I no longer eat KFC because their chickens are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers.
I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.
THANKS TO YOU I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I forward an e-mail to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.
BECAUSE OF YOUR CONCERN, I no longer drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains.
I no longer can buy gasoline without taking someone along to watch the car so a serial killer won't crawl in my back seat when I'm pumping gas.
I no longer drink Pepsi or Dr. Pepper since the people who make these products are atheists who refuse to put 'Under God' on their cans.
AND THANKS FOR LETTING ME KNOW I can't boil a cup of water in the microwave anymore because it will blow up in my face... Disfiguring me for life.
I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS.
I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.
I no longer receive packages from UPS or Fed Ex since they are actually Al Qaeda in disguise.
I no longer shop at Target since they are French and don't support our American troops or the Salvation Army.
THANKS TO YOU I can't use anyone's toilet but mine because a big brown African spider is lurking under the seat to cause me instant death when it bites my butt.
AND THANKS TO YOUR GREAT ADVICE I can't ever pick up $5.00 dropped in the parking lot because it probably was placed there by a sex molester waiting underneath my car to grab my leg.
I can't do any gardening because I'm afraid I'll get bitten by the brown recluse and my hand will fall off.
If you don't send this e-mail to at least 144,000 people in the next 70 minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head at 5:00 p..m. tomorrow afternoon and the fleas from 12 camels will infest your back, causing you to grow a hairy hump. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbor's ex-mother-in-law's second husband's cousin's beautician . . .
Oh, by the way..... a German scientist from Argentina , after a lengthy study, has discovered that people with insufficient brain activity read their e-mail with their hand on the mouse.
Don't bother taking it off now, it's too late.
… Thanksgiving. What a great day. Spent it with the family, ate a lot of good food, had a couple really good heart-to-heart conversations with the next generation, watched “Uncle Buck” and played Clue. Both my brothers were there, my sister, almost all the nieces and nephews and their kids.
… At one point my older brother was downstairs playing with all the kids, and somehow a little soccer ball, a little bit smaller than a pool ball, got lost inside the pool table. The first any of us upstairs heard of it, my older brother had my younger brother’s 8 year old completely inside the table, crawling around looking for the soccer ball. My 6 year old grand-nephew was trying to climb in the other side of the table to help. It was hilarious. I don’t think they ever got the ball, but at least nobody got stuck in there.
… All in all an excellent day, as any time with my family is. I love you guys, wouldn’t trade any of you for anything.
… I got out of the professional development day today. I actually wanted to hear Judge Valdez speak about juvenile delinquents. The rest of the stuff on the agenda wasn’t so exciting, but getting out of it wasn’t so much fun either.
… I don’t know what it was that I ate last night, but it weren’t good. Spent the night fighting a real bad case of acid reflux, got up in the morning and drank 2 liters of water in the first 5 minutes, had two rounds with the toilet before leaving for work, two rounds at school before the meetings even started. Went in to tell the principal that if I jump up in the middle of a meeting and run out that it wouldn’t be because of something she said. She asked if I needed to take a sick day, I said, nah, I’m feeling ok now. 20 minutes later the nausea started up and I went over to her and said maybe I really should take a sick day. She said ‘So long, and thanks for all the fish’. Actually she said bye and feel better. Which, as you can tell I am, now. My stomach still hurts a bit, my guts feel a little weird, but I haven’t made a bathroom run since noon. Think I’ll go back to bed for a while, though.
… The first thing I did was get on my knees and start out with “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…”
… Then I read the article and thought “Hmm, Buttars is a lot smarter than I thought he was.” He says that he will probably help sponsor a bill that will allow other cities to pass ordinances protecting rights regarding housing and employment, but will, as the article said “forbid them from going any further on gay rights.”
… As hard as it is to admit, Chris Buttars actually is smart enough to see the writing on the wall, and especially after the LDS Church came out in support of the SLC ordinance, realized the firestorm that trying to overturn the city ordinance would cause. (The Utah State Legislature had threatened to pass state law to invalidate the city ordinance.) Personally, I don’t think he had any change of heart from when he said gay activism is “probably the greatest threat to America”, he just realized a no-win situation.
… So what does that say about the brain power of Gayle Ruzicka, who said she couldn’t believe that “her long time ally would run a bill authorizing other cities to pass ordinances that ban discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity.” Not a whole lot. Even a mosquito knows it’s time to leave when the body is dead.
I love prop-a-ganda. Especially when it winds up in my email box, forwarded from who knows where originally.
I got this in an email from a coworker, but not the ex-coworker I usually get this kind of stuff from.
The title was “HIROSHIMA - 64 YEARS LATER”, and claims
THE AFTER PICTURES ARE VISUALLY EXTRAORDINARY HIROSHIMA 64 YRS LATER...
The tag line reads “Who the hell won the war!”
Here are the pictures that they included:
First they showed you the bomb:
Then the aftermath
Then “The colorful city, NOW:”
Then they show you Detroit now, with the line:
DETROIT - 64 YEARS AFTER HIROSHIMA
Welcome to Detroit ...next 2 Exits - Drugs- Ammo
And it all ends with the tag line I mentioned before
“Who the hell won the war?”
The first thing that struck me was that all the Hiroshima ‘now’ pictures were taken from above, at night. I wondered what one might see if they searched the city down at street level, looking for the slums.
I didn’t even Google Hiroshima, but instead went the other way and spent about 5 minutes doing a image search for Detroit. This is what I found:
Doesn’t matter whether or not you agree with the sentiment of the email, whether you find the bombing atrocious or whether you feel it was necessary, whether you agree or disagree with the rebuilding of Japan after the war.
Propaganda is propaganda is propaganda, and I sure wish people would stop sending me this crap in my emails.