hardscrabble HARD-skrab-uhl, adjective:
1. Yielding a bare or meager living with great labor or difficulty.
2. Marked by poverty.
Hardscrabble is formed from hard (from Old English heard) + scrabble (from Dutch schrabbelen, “to scratch”).
Flaming Pear Aetherize V1.0 s/n: 2328861
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It’s 12:15. My baby is in bed, asleep, and I’m making rice crispie treats, watching walken on SNL.
In the words of a great bean…
What’shisname whatsherface purple monkey dishwasher.
That says it all.
A year ago today –Rant on Consensual crime rights/ gay Marriage/ ultrababy X
Taking a cue from
Ahhh! Nothing says accomplishment more than having all the bills paid, groceries gathered, the house clean, and a happy orange cat in your lap as you read a good book, and watch Aliens (Alien II) on FX.
Life. Is. Good.
I have a bag of switches
[update 5:35] – I am now playing Aliens vs Predator. Hearing a space marine screaming “Game over, man! Game over!” Time to go on a bughunt.
If I Were
If I were a poet,
I would write a sonnet.
It would say “I love you.”
Your name would be upon it.
If I were a farmer,
I’d give you a bunny.
If I had a beehive,
You would get free honey.
Fa la la (many times)
If I were a baker,
You could have a cruller
If I were a painter,
Choose your favorite color.
If I had some diamonds,
I’d give you a few,
Anything to show you
How much I love you.
Fa la la (many times)
Did you guess my secret?
I am not a poet.
Couldn’t write a sonnet,
And I think you know it.
I am not a farmer,
Can’t give you a bunny.
I don’t have a beehive,
Sorry ’bout the honey.
Fa la la (many times)
I am not a baker,
Don’t know bread from batter.
And I am not a painter,
And it doesn’t matter.
I don’t need a present,
All I have to do
Is look at you to show you
How much I love you.
Fa la la (many times)
I love you, sweetheart…
Back in 1997, there was an exorcism perfromed on Mother Teresa.
http://www.salon.com/mwt/wire/2001/09/05/mother_theresa/index.html
Perhaps she was possessed by some demon whose obsession was with healing the sick?
Some of the stuff in the article about the process of becoming a saint makes me think about the saints that didn’t exist or have been removed from Orthodox Catholicism. This has always been one of those things that fascinates me (having been raised Catholic), like Pope Joan. Surely there’s something about just creating saints wholesale, or taking heathen gods and making them saints. check out http://www.magma.ca/~artlois/pages/bogus.html for some background, then look at the rest of the site for some paintings that might also be story seeds (see the section on people pointing guns at their reflections, which I could make a few stories out of).
how to become a saint – http://www.howstuffworks.com/question619.htm
The Pope is planning on naming a patron saint of Internet users and computer programmers. Several saints are being considered, but the lead candidate is St. Isidore of Seville, who is credited with writing the world’s first encyclopedia… I’d have thought St. Gerome (the Patron saint of libraries, and a hermit. 🙂 ) would be more appropriate.
by the way, the Patron Saint of Journalists (LJ?) is St. Francis de Sales – http://saints.catholic.org/saints/francisdesales.html
My title is now….
Headmaster of Precast Concrete Solutions and Cheesy Comestible-like Things,
Padishah of Kicking Oprah’s Ass and Wee Ceramic Kittens,
Khan of Rhinoceroseseses
Bishop of Triangle Theorems,
Earl of Smurfs,
Deacon of Thick Candy Shells,
The Great Winged Goat Person of The Left Side of Latter Day Saints,
Scrum-Diddly Paladin of The Flobee Hair Suction System, Scott “Band-Aid” O’Bear, the Fourty-Second
get yours here… thanks
I wonder how many folks thought I would break my streak of posting today?
Probably nobody. 🙂
I trimmed my list. (And sent off appropriate notes to those that I felt obliged to remove, for one reason or another.) It’s sad, because I really liked those folks, but *TIME AND TIME AGAIN* there’s involvement with a LJ drama. That seems counterproductive. This whole “you’re friends with X, so you can’t be friends with Y” nonsense is right out of grade 2. So, forget it. I’m sure I’ll be adding some back later (If they’ll have me). but for now, I’m just not dealing with it. Lakme pulled that silly stuff with folks I liked reading last time around. I still sometimes wonder if she ever confessed in her journal to her colossal mistake, and character assassination. I figure the current hot air will stop blowing in a few days…. but it seems its the same group of people every time. I wonder if a more permanent decision isn’t more reasonable. A shame so many of them are so likeable. A couple of rotten apples wreck the party for everyone…(If I’m allowed to mix cliche & metaphor… it’s my journal. I’ll say yeah.)
Geez … I don’t like finding even one hair on the soap.
[update 9/6/03] –http://www.gobazaar.co.uk/detprod.asp?ProdCode=0180
Karate is a form of martial arts in which people who have had years and years of training can, using only their hands and feet, make some of the worst movies in the history of the world.
-Dave Barry
*laughs
oh, the IMDB mentions folks atthe mystery men hiring party – any others?
Powerwoman, Powerwoman, Supervacman, Reverse Psychologist, Mr. Pups, Waffler, Mailman, Pencilhead, Son of Pencilhead, Little Miss Vengeance, Squeegeeman, Maintainer, The Artiste, Big Billy Hill Billy, PMS Avenger, Radio Man, Gorilla, Evil Devil Woman, Globalman, Gardener, Bullfighter, Stilt Man, Fisherman, Thirstyman
Beautiful Dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lull’d by the moonlight have all pass’d away!
Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft melody;
Gone are the cares of life’s busy throng
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea,
Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie;
Over the streamlet vapors are borne,
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.
Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,
E’en as the morn on the streamlet and sea;
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart,
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
At one point, Beijing was a walled city. In ’69, for fear of impending Soviet attack (note the era: Cultural Revolution), Mao had them taken down to provide bricks for a network of bomb shelters.
The resulting “underground city” was designed to house 300,000 people for 4 months. Although foreign tourists are allowed to see them, no Chinese are admitted. The little-known entrance is just a bit south of Tiananmen Square.
In a semi-related note, there is continuing construction on the city’s subway, with the junction stations seemingly finished, but the lower levels are in a state of filth and unkept disarray, devoting no effort while they wait for a tunnel that has yet to arrive.
From who-knows where – I’m lucky it wasn’t me –
I may as well share the Worst Character Concept Ever, submitted to me by a prospective player in a Champions game I was going to run (but never got off the ground):
The Superlative (Invincible, Indestructible, etc.) Hammer-Wheel.
The Invincible Hammer-Wheel’s power is that he has hammers for hands and wheels for feet. Or it could have been wheels for hands and hammers for feet. The player himself wasn’t sure, but my mental picture of the character is a man with monster-truck wheels plugged into where is arms should be, who drives up to villains and kicks them with his sledgehammer feet.
Here’s basically how the conversation went:
Player: I hear you’re running a superhero game. Can I play?
Me: Sure. Do you have a character concept in mind?
Player: The Invincible Hammer-Wheel!
Me: Uh… (keep in mind this was to be a “serious” supers game)
Player: He has hammers for hands and wheels for feet! Or, wheels for hands and hammers for feet. I haven’t decided.
Me: And how did he come by these “powers?”
Player: He was born that way.
Me: Must have been rough on his folks…
Player: He was raised by farm implements.
Me: And his motivation for doing good?
Player: He lives in the woods.
So whenever people bring up their “worst concept” horror-stories, all I have to say is, totally deadpan and monotone, “The Invincible Hammer-Wheel. He has hammers for hands and wheels for feet. He was born that way. He was raised by farm implements. He lives in the woods.”
With that, I’m going to bed.
night-night.