Q. What do you get when you pour boiling water down a rabbit hole?
My original attempt to write this up failed as despondency overcame me. I truly believe that today, most US citizens are afraid of freedom. If they do not fear the responsibility that comes with freedom, then they fear their neighbors too much to allow freedom for others. It seemed an exercise in futility. However, this posting by La Shawn Barber at least gives me some hope. Apparently there are some 'liberal,' 'progressive' groups that haven't let their hatred completely overwhelm every last smidgen of decency. If they won't stand shoulder to shoulder with pro-life groups, at least they aren't standing against them out of sheer orneriness. & so the butterfly in Pandora's box still flickers her tired wings . . .
Also, in violation of all known blog etiquette, I have no links, no references, nothing to go by but my own faulty memory. Sorry 'bout that. There's not much to be done about it, unless someone wants to go to Villa Park, Illinois and manually search the dusty archives of the Villa Park Argus.
Once upon a time, probably around '84 or '86, I was young and full of joie de vivre. Also, alcohol. 'Twas a sunny Saturday afternoon in the springtime when I wandered half-schnockered out of my local watering hole at the same time as a drinking buddy, Carbide. Carbide strolled over to his bike and his biker friends; my eye was caught by a table set up across the street, outside the feed store, manned by two well-dressed, respectable looking ladies and covered in pamphlets. "Gee, what's that all about?" sez I to myself - and shortly repeated the question to the gentlewomen, as a light spring breeze wafted my whiskey breath merrily down the lane.
A well-manicured eyebrow was raised, but the question was answered politely enough. The ladies were (I think) with the Presbyterian Ladies' Auxiliary or some such group; apparently someone somewhere recently had had a potluck supper and salmonella was an unfortunate result. Nobody died, but I expect it was unpleasant and probably embarrassing for whoever brought the offending dish. The sad quirk of an incident had prompted the Villa Park government to propose a law outlawing potlucks, church suppers, bake sales and the like for 'the good of the people'.
Well. You can't tell something like that to a young, intoxicated female without getting some sort of reaction. The tears sprang to my eyes. "But . . . church suppers and potlucks are where everybody gets together and enjoys themselves. It's one of the few things that everybody likes. Can they do that?"
Responds a grim matron: "They're certainly trying to. We need those fellowships to reach out to each other, and the government wants to do away with them because of one isolated incident."
"Carbide!" I bawled. "They're going to make potlucks illegal!"
"What?!" Carbide looked at me as if I had three heads, but strode across the street. He looked at the ladies "What's this all about?"
The poor ladies thought I was scary; at the sight of 6'+ Carbide, in his leather vest, chains and obligatory tattoos, the women turned pale. But the lady in lavender took a deep breath, handed him a pamphlet, and explained.
I never hope to see such a display of righteous anger again.
"God fucking damn it!! That's not right!"
Is it just my imagination over time, or did Lady A really start to rise up in indignation? Did Lady B really pat her arm and bring her down, saying "Different people have different ways of expressing themselves. His heart's in the right place."?
In any case, Carbide really did yell across the street to his biker buddies - about 5 or 6 as I recall - and they all came traipsing over.
"Politicians are trying to tell old ladies they can't have any more get-togethers!"
"Shit, food is the only thing that could ever get me into church!"
"Are they insane? Tellin' me I can't have potato salad?"
& then the magic words . . . "What can we do to help?"
"Well . . . there's a town council meeting coming up . . . "
And the rest, as they say, is history.
Naturally, I was out of town for most of the excitement. Upon my return, I swear to you I saw Cadillacs sporting bumper stickers saying "When potlucks are outlawed, only outlaws will have potlucks."
Rumor has it that, in addition to various church ladies' groups, the Outlaws and the Sons of Satan also attended the town meetings. In any case, before Memorial Day with its traditional gatherings of food, friends, family and fun, the Lombardian (or possibly the Lombard Spectator) printed an article stating that the Villa Park government decided to drop its proposal. "When groups so diverse oppose a law, maybe it really is a bad law."
& the moral of the story is:
Different people have different ways of expressing themselves, but that doesn't mean that their hearts aren't in the right place; and of course
When potlucks are outlawed, only outlaws will have potlucks.
The crime that shocked the nation take place before your very eyes!
As an ordinary, middle-aged woman and mother becomes a hardened, vicious felon with no change in her daily habits!
At the naivete of bloggers who actually expect their senators, representatives, President, and Supreme Court to treat the US Constitution and the Bill of Rights with respect!
RECOIL IN HORROR!!
At the depravity that thrives deep within the heart of the notorious Madame Persnickety, a secret member of the McCain-Feingold Insurrection and Shameless Linker to Political Websites!
"We should sue for false advertising!" she typed, on her unregistered Compaq keyboard.Russ Feingold's site claims he protects civil liberties and civil rights, but really he is a a nefarious tyrant! He and his buddy, the bitter and power-mad John McCain! Vile Creatures! Have they never heard of a declaratory and restrictive clause!?"
Her terry-cloth robe flapped excitedly in the wind; her glow-in-the-dark bunny slippers glowed fiercely with the heat of her heart.
"Ye Gads!!" The politicians and media wept and trembled in terror. "Are there none to stop this madwoman? Who will saaavve us?"
Out leap McCain and Feingold to the rescue! Mild-mannered senators by day; fearless freedom-stompers by night - will the shush & shut-down duo be able to stop this dastardly criminal?
Tune in the next time I feel like typing this much for . . .
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Not that I am bitter.
Three rock structures with elaborate carvings of animals have emerged. As the water receded, the force of the water removed sand deposits that had covered the structures. These structures appear to belong to a port city built in the seventh century.
The six-foot rocky structures include the elaborately carved head of an elephant and a horse in flight. Another structure has a reclining lion sculpted on it. Archaeologists believe these could be part of the legendary seven pagodas.
Further excavations may expose more edifices to be found.
CGCAS credits the St. Pete Times, 2/29/05, but that can't be right.
The Times of India has a cute little article, though:
. . the archaeologists are an excited lot . .
I bet they are. I could not find anything on the 'legendary seven pagodas" except more articles on their discovery. Seems like somewhere on the web there'd be, you know, a legend or something.
Anyway - Celebrate March! Take an archaeologist a frozen pizza!
Update: O Ho! India's No. 1 Weekly News Magazine printed an article June 2003 on the legendary seven temples. Scroll down to myth #4 - the sunken Temples of Mamallpuram.
"The story of the sunken pagodas of Mamallpuram - or Mahabalipuram - is like a ghost story. No one has seen a ghost, but everyone would claim to know someone who has seen it."
Your Brain is 20.00% Female, 80.00% Male
You've got the brain of a manly man
Feelings, schmeelings... tears aren't for you.
You could break both legs and not get misty eyed.
A great problem solver, nothing ever phases you.
hat tip to Cut on the Bias