disceptatio 10 - angelfire.com · web viewyou are free to distribute disceptatio in its entirety,...

DISCEPTATIO. November 1999: Vol. 2 Number 16 of 35

Difficult to pronounce, yet so easy to read

Our Philosophy:

1. You cannot win a discussion, but a Fool will always try.

2. Truth is relative to the known facts.

3. Opinions are the birthright of every free Man and Women. Nevertheless, it does not necessarily follow that such opinions are correct.

4. The other guys are usually just as sincere in their beliefs as you are in yours.

5. Right and Wrong are beliefs, not absolutes.

Copyright.

Editorial copyright rests with the publisher. All rights reserved. The publisher is not free to offer clearance on copyright material published in Disceptatio. Clearance may be obtained from the appropriate author. The views expressed in Disceptatio are not necessarily those of the publisher, and no responsibility is implied or accepted. You are free to distribute Disceptatio in its entirety, but

PLEASE DO NOT SPAM

Disceptatio is published in the UK by the Electronic Dolphin

ISSN 1466-0245

Disclaimer.

The publisher, editors, or assignees of Disceptatio are NOT responsible for claims made by advertisers. Please use caution when answering an advertisement or submitting any form of payment. Advertisers may terminate, or move, and prices may change without notice.

The publisher and editors of Disceptatio DO NOT claim ownership of published jokes. Jokes are presented to evoke laughter and are NOT intended to offend any person(s). Some jokes may contain adult language.

© 1999 Disceptatio


DISCEPTATIO MASTHEAD:

CONTACT: NAME: E-MAIL:

Editor Stan Walker [email protected]

Associate Editor Jennifer A. Czaplewski [email protected]

Book Reviews Belle Lunceford [email protected]

Humour Svali [email protected]

Poetry Alan Webb [email protected]

Kegels Korner Stan Kegel [email protected]

Music TJ [email protected]

Columnist Don Parker [email protected]

The Rusty Hing Rusti Kanz c/o Editor

Technical ConsultantsOzFx: [email protected]

Web Site http://www.angelfire.com/on2/disceptatio

Web Maintenance Jean Goddin c/o Editor [email protected]

ToolBox c/o Editor [email protected]

***********************************************************************

GUIDELINES for SUBMISSIONS


We will never publish a home or e-mail address unless instructed to do so by the author.

No payment will be made for any submissions published.

1. Submissions are invited on any subject, except pornography or adult material.

2. Submissions must be in "English", although they may be in your "National English" using appropriate grammatical conventions. Grammatical consistency and correct spelling are requested.

3. Articles/Poems should normally not exceed 2000 words.

4. Please submit in "Arial" font - 10 point, with single-spacing if possible.

5. Coloured text, graphics, and links may be used.

6. Author retains all rights. Full credit will be given.

7 Submissions may be sent to the appropriate Sub Editor or to the Associate Editor.

Associate Editor Jennifer A. Czaplewski [email protected]

Fiction Bassaris [email protected]

Book Reviews Belle Lunceford [email protected]

Humour Svali [email protected]

Poetry Alan Webb [email protected]

Kegels Korner Stan Kegel [email protected]

Music TJ [email protected]

The Rusty Hinge Rusti Kanz c/o Editor

ToolBox c/o Editor [email protected]

TABLE OF CONTENTS


Item Page

FRONTISPIECE 1

MASTHEAD 2

GUIDELINES 3

TABLE OF CONTENTS 4

WAFFLE by the Editor 5-6

THE X FILES: by Svali 7-9

READERS LETTER 10

THE STATION by Robert J. Hastings 11

THE RUSTY HINGE by Rusti Kanz 12-14

PARKER'S PERSUASION'S by Don Parker 15-16

THE XENA YEARS by Elsie Roark 17-18

KEGEL’S KORNER by Stan Kegel 19-25

JESUS PIMPS by Don Barbera 26-27

LUCID PETUNIAS by Alan Webb 28-31

AND ONE MORE THING… by the Associate Editor 32

CLASSIFIED Your Gateway to the Internet 33-35

Waffle by the Editor


November – almost the last month of the year, and for many of us, a month for celebration.

On the 5th of November, we English celebrate the execution of Guy Fawkes [Bonfire Night] – the fall guy for a group of Catholic conspirators who tried unsuccessfully to blow up our Houses of Parliament in 1605.

An interesting celebration in that our establishment totally ignores it. It is not a public holiday, it is not mentioned in most “fact” books, yet along with Christmas day and New Years day it will be one of the only three dates that the English can always remember.

Only a tiny minority will remember the date of the Prince of Wales birthday, the Queens Wedding day, Lord Mayors Day, All Saints Day, or Remembrance Sunday. All of which take place in November in the UK.

Some may remember the date of Easter, or Yom Kippur, but few will be able to tell you the date of Ash Wednesday or the start of Ramadan. Of course, if they are Welsh they may well remember that the Rugby Union World Final is to be played on November 6th, and if a Scot that St Andrews Day is celebrated November 30th.

Yet all will know the date of “Bonfire Night”, and many will celebrate it with Fireworks and a huge bonfire.

During November, our Hindu friends will celebrate Diwali [Nov. 5th – 10th], and many others of our readers will celebrate their own anniversaries.

On November 29th, our American cousins will celebrate “Independence Day”. Although why anyone should wish to celebrate their independence from the loving care of “Mother England” is beyond me!

Still, as Dad always used to say, “It’s a brau brech moonlit nicght tonicgh” [He was a Scot, and used to suffer from the cold on winter nights] which of course has nothing whatsoever to do with American Independence, but is rather cute nevertheless.

Moreover, do you know why we say “tit for tat”, or why are the people of the Netherlands called Dutch? *

Maybe you are not the slightest bit interested, or maybe, like me, you are a curious soul. If so, then you could do worse than Subscribe to [email protected] which is a mine of useless information.

* The expression “tit for tat” happens to make perfect sense in Dutch, where it probably came from.Dit vor dat means "this for that" in Dutch, and you can see how it might easily have become tit for tat on its way into English. The Dutch expression has the same general meaning as the Latin, quid quo pro. It's equally possible that “ it for tat” evolved from the English, tip for tap, a blow for a blow.(Source: BREWER'S DICTIONARY OF PHRASE AND FABLE)

As for the “Dutch”. Here's a country that has two names, the Netherlands and Holland. However, the people who live there are called Dutch, which seems to have nothing to do with either. As Lewis Carroll wrote in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, this gets "curiouser and curiouser!"

Netherlands comes from "nether”, meaning low, in this case with respect to sea level. Holland, only one of the Netherlands' provinces, so overshadows the others that its name is often used to refer to the whole country.

Dutch comes from “diets”, pronounced "deets”, which is what the people living here originally called themselves. When the English tried to pronounce it, it came out "Dutch”. Today the country’s government says that its people are "Netherlanders”. Nevertheless, foreigners still call them Dutch!


(Source: WHY DO CLOCKS RUN CLOCKWISE? By David Feldman)

My apologies for yet another month without a Music Column. The reason being that we have lost contact with TJ our Music Editor! If you are out there TJ, we are routeing for you.

And finally, lots of new goodies for you.

1] And One More thing… will be a regular column by our Associate editor Jenna Czaplewski .

2] Our Book Review will be handled by Belle Lunceford.

3] Our new Humour columnist is Svali, and her column will be called A Mussing.

4] Also starting in this issue, a brand new column The Rusty Hing under the thumb of Rusti Kanz

5]ToolBox, [and you all though that we had forgotten about it!] will start in the December issue, and will be a regular feature. So please send in your questions about Hardware and Software.

Starting January 2000 [at last I found, a Travel Editor] Wish you were here. More details next month. But in the meantime, we need contacts all over the world for our new Travel Editor – When we first mentioned the Travel Column some months ago, many of our wonderful readers offered to be a “contact” for their area. Well, along with everything else, I lost all of your e-mail addy’s! So please contact me at again, we need you - [email protected]

And finally, also starting in January, a new satirical columnIn addition, a new column, by Ariana Overton, devoted to all of the exciting things that are happening in the world of Electronic Publishing.

Don’t forget – Contacts, Submission details, and our Guidelines, plus full details and Profiles of

everyone working for “Disceptatio” can all be found on our Web Site - http://www.angelfire.com/on2/disceptatio

ENJOY.”Your eyes shine like the pants of my blue serge suit.”

Groucho Marx

The X files: a Modern Mother's tale by "svali""Okay kids, get ready."


They were already ten minutes late, and had hardly begun gathering the army of clothing, books, makeup, and paraphernalia necessary for a day away from home. "We are, Mom, chill." the teenager, carrying a backpack full of makeup, and almost no clothing, tossed her blond head insolently. "You'll get high blood pressure if you keep worrying like this." "It's already high, and getting higher the longer I wait. And high blood pressure makes me grumpy. Very, very grumpy. So get going."

Another weekend day to be spent taking the kids to the X. That's what Marta privately called him. She knew it was really spelled "ex", but X seemed to fit so much better. As in "X marks the spot",. or "cross it out with a big X" (just like her marriage), or "please sign the child support check on the line with the X" (he needed special guidance there). Finally, the two kids were ready, and everyone piled into the beat up wreck that passed for the family car. It started after only three attempts this time. At last, the three of them were underway.

"So, are you planning to do anything special with your Dad?" she was striving to be pleasant."We're going swimming, then out to eat. I hope he gets me a new toy."

Brian, her ten year old, was already looking forward to his day. "Now kids, I don't want you asking your Dad for lots of things. It isn't right. He enjoys just seeing you." "Mom! Get real! He has a lot more money than you do.(which was sad, but true). If he wants to get us something nice, I won't stop him. I can't help it if he wants to give us stuff, to relieve his guilt."

Marta glanced at her fifteen year old, then returned her eyes to the road.. Where did kids come up with this stuff? “I have never, ever said anything like that to the kids. I swear, I swear” she thought to herself. Where could they be learning to become junior analysts? Maybe the schools are secretly teaching the young to analyze their parents, find their hidden flaws. If that was true, parents were screwed. Truly. Maybe she would need to make a call to the principal on Monday, and find out what they were teaching the kids. Maybe this was why so many parents are homeschooling now adays.......

"Mom, what are you thinking about?" Brian's question interrupted her reverie. "Oh, just wondering how you like your classes this year." Yes, lie, Marta, so they'll never know your secret fears. They can use them, you know. Never give them the advantage. The new P.E. coach is nice, but kind of tough at times." "Well, do your best in his class, and you'll do great. Don't just goof off: "Thank goodness they got rid of the old one.

Two years ago, he had made a pass at her in the hallway when she was there after hours, dropping off some paperwork for a fundraiser.. Maybe being a coach raised your testosterone level, or destroyed the inhibition center in the brain. "Oh, Mom, you have to turn around and go home! I left my light concealer there." "Sue, you have concealer right there in your hand.” "But it's the WRONG SHADE, mother! I HAVE to wear the right shade, or I can't go out in public."

Sue was in tears now, crying. Any help that the concealer would do was being quickly cancelled by her teenage hysteria. "Please, mother, PLEASE! I'll die if I go out wearing the wrongshade..."

Not wanting to be the cause of her daughter's demise due to acute embarrassment, ie someone actually seeing her REAL face color, Marta turned the junk mobile towards home. What was it about being a teenager that made putting on THE FACE so important? Then again, Marta knew women that never outgrew this stage......

Ten minutes later, the car was back on track. Teenage hysteria alleviated. The fifteen year old was reading a Teen magazine in the back seat. "Can we get a soda?" Brian's voice had a slight whine to it, the begging pitch well modulated. It was starting now. The incessant "can wes" that greeted every journey out of the house. Can we: get a soda; get an ice cream; get a magazine; get a toy; get a ...........


"No, your Dad is taking you out, remember? You don't want to spoil your appetite." The ten year old lawyer revved up for action. "No, I won't Mom, Just little one won't spoil my appetite. Please? I'm dying of thirst." "I hope you're still alive, then, by the time we get there. It's just a few more minutes. I'll check your pulse every two minutes, just in case."

Marta only had time to spare one life today. Twice was pushing it. "Oh, geez, Mom...." the lawyer retired his case for the minute, sparing his energy for the other parent with more money. He would go over his briefs when they arrived...... "How much longer until we're there?" teenage impatience filled the car."Not much longer, honey, just four more exits....."

Marta thought about the weekend ahead. Every other weekend, for 24 hours, the children spent the day with the X. When she got home today, the house would be filled with the blissful sound of silence. No fights, no whining, no begging. Pure, utter silence. She could take a bath, or read, and not worry about five neighborhood kids accidentally opening the door. No cooking for her kids, and half the kids that lived nearby. No picking up messes. If the house got cleaned, for 24 blissful hours it would STAY that way....her lips curved up in a smile.

"Mom, what are you thinking about?" Brian was curious. "Oh, how much I will miss you both today.""Then why are you smiling?" "Because I was thinking how much you will enjoy going to a nice restaurant, and swimming. It sounds really nice." "Oh".

The decrepit green vehicle pulled up in front of the X's apartment complex. It was beautiful, with well manicured grounds, an olympic sized swimming pool, and even boasted a jacuzzi next to the weight room. Elegant, expensive, a fitting setting for the X. He certainly didn't spend the money on child support, so his money had to go somewhere.........

They knocked on the door, and were greeted by the X. Going inside, Marta felt a pang of envy deep in her stomach. It was spotless! No grime,stains, or spots. Instead, all was pristine clean and perfect. Why couldn't her house look this way? But then a deeper, baser emotion hit her. Revenge. Ha! In twenty four hours, when she returned, his place would look nothing like this. There would be toys scattered everywhere, food smeared on kitchen counters, open pizza boxes littering the floor, the debris that would be left in the wake of the kids' staying there. His apartment would look lived in, used. It was a comforting thought. Maybe Brian would spill some soda on his new carpet.......

"Mom, why don't you stay, and go swimming with us?" Oh no,no, no, no.

This would be a fate worse than death. To squeeze her not so young body into a swimsuit, then endure the pool. The gathering place of dozens of young apartment residents, who could already be heard squealing from outside. The average age was seven, and the favorite game was dive in like a cannon ball and splash all the grownups. No, no, no..... "Honey, I wish I could, but I have some things I need to do today."(anything but this). "Well, you're welcome to stay if you want."

The X's invitation made her recoil. The X who had X'ed out their marriage; the X who rumor said was boasting to their friends about much he enjoyed "the single life" The X who made her beg each month, practically on hands and knees, for her child.support, until her knees were beginning to get callouses on them, then gave her a lecture about how he didn't have much money. Yet he traveled all the time, and had just bought a brand new car, no payments.....

"Thanks for the invitation, but I have to get home." "Well, anytime, just know you'd be welcome.""Thanks, I appreciate the thought."


Marta hugged both children, told them to be good, and headed for the mess mobile, as Brian had dubbed it. Putting keys into the ignition, she started the car once again, after five attempts, and began the journey home. Ah, bliss, the quiet of the car, rattling along the highway, its untuned motor knocking rhythmically during the trip back.

Entering the house, she put her keys away, and began cleaning. Each room received a scrub, shine, and polish. Three hours later, the house looked entirely different. Food containers were thrown away, clothes picked up and put in the hamper. Marta walked from room to room, and sighed with pleasure at the orderly sight that greeted her. A far cry from the earlier chaos that had reigned unchecked. Yes, order was good for the soul.

She then sat down, a cup of tea in her hand, and luxuriated in the silence that enveloped her. That was when it hit her. It was TOO quiet. No noise. No "hey, Mom"s. No, "he did it." " No, she did it." No rock music blaring at ear shattering decibels from the kid's rooms. It seemed queer, almost unnatural to her child accustomed ears. Then she realized what was wrong. She missed them. Missed the little things. For all the aggravations, the hounding, the giving, the grousing, she missed them. Maybe she would give them a call later, see how they were doing.

And, with that thought, she sat down, and started writing. She started a list of things to share with them, when they got back home tomorrow evening: on it were the qualities she loved in each child, the special things she saw. Her pencil flew. Maybe, just maybe, she would tell them what they meant to her, in the quiet given to her, before it was too late, before they grew up and flew from the nest that she so carefully tended. Perhaps this weekend was practice for that time, and she would use it. Pencil to paper, the list grew quickly longer. She couldn't give them money, or material things, but she could give them this, a gift from the heart........

ENDCopyright svali 8/99-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Svali is a parent with two children. She lives in North Central Texas, outside of Fort Worth.

As well as writing short stories, she also writes poetry, and she is writing a soft science fiction novel, based in the future and a militaristically run society. Her book on “Self Help” will be published in a few months. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

" One of the penalties for refusing to participate in politics is that you end up being governed by your inferiors. "

Plato

Readers Letters:


[Some thoughts from our readers]

Dear Ed,

Why don’t we have a “Financial Column”?

Joe.

Canberra .Aus.

Simple Joe – aint got a Sub Editor for one. You want to volunteer?

[Seriously, I think that it is a terrific idea. But I would need someone to handle it]

Dear Stan,

I have been a Subscriber for a long time, but now I only receive an e-mail and NO Disceptatio !

Alison.

Georgetown S.A.

Dear Alison,

In response to requests from our readers, we no longer send out “Disceptatio” as an attachment to

an e-mail if you simpley Subscribe to “Disceptatio”

However, for readers who do wish to have “Disceptatio” delivered, all that they need do is either –

a] [email protected] if they wish to have the PDF version delivered every month.Or

b] [email protected] if they wish to receive the MS Word version every month.

Incidently , PDF is by far the best option, but you will need a PDF reader to open thefile. If you have not got a PDF reader - such as "Acrobat Reader" - go to our Web Site http://www.angelfire.com/on2/disceptatio and click on the [yellow] "Reader" button on ourHomepage - follow the on-screen instructions, and "Acrobat Reader" will download and install onto your computer. You will then be able to open and read, any PDF File. All of this is quite free of charge.

Choose which ever option you feel most happy with. Any problems or queries - just buzz me at [email protected]

My thanks to all of our readers who have written in with comments and support.

END


The Station by Robert J. Hastings Tucked away in our subconscious is an idyllic vision. We are travelling by train - out the windows, we drink in the passing scenes of children waving at a crossing, cattle grazing on a distant hillside, row upon row of corn and wheat, flatlands and valleys, mountains and rolling hillsides and city skylines.

But uppermost in our minds is the final destination. On a certain day, we will pull into the station. Bands will be playing and flags waving. Once we get there, our dreams will come true and the pieces of our lives will fit together like a completed jigsaw puzzle. Restlessly we pace the aisles, damning the minutes - waiting, waiting, and waiting for the station.

"When we reach the station, that will be it!" we cry. "When I'm 18." "When I buy a new 450sl Mercedes Benz!" "When I put the last kid through college." "When I have paid off the mortgage!" "When I get a promotion." "When I reach retirement, I shall live happily ever after!"

Sooner or later, we realize there is no station, no one place to arrive. The true joy of life is the trip. The station is only a dream. It constantly outdistances us. "Relish the moment" is a good motto, especially when coupled with Psalm 118:24: "This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it”. It isn't the burdens of today that drive men mad. It is the regrets over yesterday and the fear of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves who rob us of today.

So stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Instead, climb more mountains, eat more ice cream, go barefoot more often, swim more rivers, watch more sunsets, laugh more, cry less. Life must be lived as we go along. The station will come soon enough.

END

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[From Condensed “Chicken Soup for the Soul” Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen & Patty Hansen]

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

”To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive, and the true success is to labor.”

Robert Louis Stevenson

The Rusty Hinge by Rusti Kanz


We lost a sports hero recently. Golfer Payne Stewart was killed in an airplane accident. He died a champion, a sports hero at the top of his game. By all accounts, Stewart was a nice guy, someone a person could look up to. He was a positive role model for our youth.

That raises a question. That he died a champion is measurable by his record. He had recently won the US Open and qualified for a position on his fifth Ryder Cup team. That, and his impressive record, made him a golf hero. But what made him a good role model, someone we could hold up to our children to admire and emulate?

What are the characteristics we look for in a role model for our children? If we could build the perfect hero, what would that person be like? What qualities would s/he have? I would suggest that a balance of the general components of wellness align with the qualities that can make one a hero: the emotional, intellectual, physical, spiritual, occupational, social, and environmental aspects. The perfect hero would exemplify a strength in all of these areas without going overboard in any one.

We’d want our children’s hero to be emotionally balanced. S/he should be compassionate, to have a strong sense of purpose, to have the courage of his/her convictions. S/he would be able to love him/herself as well as others. Sh/e would be able to feel anger without being driven by hate. This hero would give him/herself permission to feel negative emotions such as jealousy, envy, sadness, or anger as well as positive emotions such as love and happiness. It’s been said that you’re about as happy as you make up your mind to be. Our hero would choose to have a basically happy, optimistic nature. S/he’d view life with a sense of humor, the ability to laugh, to know when to be serious and when not to be.

We’d want our children’s hero to have a strong spiritual side. S/he should believe in a power greater than him/herself. S/he would act righteously, not self-righteously. S/he would have a deep sense of right and wrong and act accordingly. S/he would have the courage to follow his/her own heart rather than the crowd.

We’d want our children’s hero to be intellectually curious. S/he would strive for more knowledge than information. S/he would then be able to translate this knowledge into wisdom. S/he would certainly understand the relationship between his/her actions and the possible consequences of those actions. S/he would be capable of making a well-thought-out decision when it’s necessary. Our hero would also have the flexibility to change his/her mind as circumstances change. We’d like him/her to have the grace to admit it when s/he is wrong.

We’d want our children’s hero to have a healthy respect for his/her body. S/he would recognize the need to take care of his/her physical body through proper nutrition and exercise. S/he would know his/her physical strengths as well as limitations.

S/he would feel comfortable with the body s/he has rather than continually trying to change it into something that can never be. We’d like him/her to enjoy the physical pleasures of life--the sensations of taste, smell, sight, hearing, and touch, but not be obsessed by them.

We’d want our children’s hero to be happy in his/her occupation. S/he would be doing something meaningful, something s/he enjoys. Enjoys? Something s/he loves doing, something s/he is passionate about. S/he should feel that s/he is making a positive difference in the world, making a contribution, to know, as the saying goes, that s/he’s part of the solution, not part of the problem. However, s/he should not be consumed by his/her career, but be able to leave it at the end of the day.

We’d want our children’s hero to have a healthy social life. We’d like him/her to have supportive friends--and to be one. S/he should realize the importance of family in his/her life, to be a functional part of his/her community. S/he would be able to take as well as to give, to lead as well as to follow, to know


when to speak up and when to hush up. S/he would play as well as work. We’d want him/her to like people.

We’d want our children’s hero to be environmentally conscientious. S/he would have knowledge of and respect for the physical world s/he lives in. Our children’s hero would find out about renewable energy sources and not be afraid to spend a little more to pollute a little less. S/he would also buy reusables more and disposables less.

As I said, Payne Stewart was a good role model for our youth. He embodied a good work ethic when he persevered through years of less success to continually improve his performance. He exemplified compassion and a feeling for people with his reaction to winning the US Open. He showed a real spiritual life when he credited the turn-around in his career to a deepened faith in God. The fact that he played a sport professionally showed a certain commitment to physical fitness. There’s certainly an intellectual involvement in the strategy of his sport. The number of attendees and the tone of the eulogies at his funeral bespeak a social awareness on his part, that he was a compassionate, caring man.

Stewart certainly displayed many of my criteria for a good role model. But did he possess all of these qualities? Of course not. Do we, as parents? Does any living, breathing being have them all? No. There is no one living person who is the perfect hero for our kids. As parents, we are probably the most important role models our children will have, but that doesn’t mean that we’re expected to be perfect in every way. We need to strive for a healthy balance of our emotional, intellectual, spiritual, physical, occupational, social, and environmental components. As we recognize other role models our children select, we need to point out the traits that make these people admirable. We can openly admire Aunt Jenny’s graciousness and wonderful social skills and Uncle Bob’s work ethic, explaining how they contribute to a healthy lifestyle. In pointing out commendable traits in as many people as we can, we also teach our children to look for, and recognize, the best in people.

We lost a sports hero recently. Golfer Payne Stewart was killed in an airplane accident. He died a champion, a sports hero at the top of his game. By all accounts, Stewart was a nice guy, someone a person could look up to. He was a positive role model for our youth. That raises a question. That he died a champion is measurable by his record. He had recently won the US Open and qualified for a position on his fifth Ryder Cup team. That, and his impressive record, made him a golf hero. But what made him a good role model, someone we could hold up to our children to admire and emulate?

What are the characteristics we look for in a role model for our children? If we could build the perfect hero, what would that person be like? What qualities would s/he have? I would suggest that a balance of the general components of wellness align with the qualities that can make one a hero: the emotional, intellectual, physical, spiritual, occupational, social, and environmental aspects. The perfect hero would exemplify a strength in all of these areas without going overboard in any one.

We’d want our children’s hero to be emotionally balanced. S/he should be compassionate, to have a strong sense of purpose, to have the courage of his/her convictions. S/he would be able to love him/herself as well as others. Sh/e would be able to feel anger without being driven by hate. This hero would give him/herself permission to feel negative emotions such as jealousy, envy, sadness, or anger as well as positive emotions such as love and happiness. It’s been said that you’re about as happy as you make up your mind to be. Our hero would choose to have a basically happy, optimistic nature. S/he’d view life with a sense of humor, the ability to laugh, to know when to be serious and when not to be.

We’d want our children’s hero to have a strong spiritual side. S/he should believe in a power greater than him/herself. S/he would act righteously, not self-righteously.

S/he would have a deep sense of right and wrong and act accordingly. S/he would have the courage to follow his/her own heart rather than the crowd.

We’d want our children’s hero to be intellectually curious. S/he would strive for more knowledge than information. S/he would then be able to translate this knowledge into wisdom. S/he would certainly understand the relationship between his/her actions and the possible consequences of those actions.


S/he would be capable of making a well-thought-out decision when it’s necessary. Our hero would also have the flexibility to change his/her mind as circumstances change. We’d like him/her to have the grace to admit it when s/he is wrong.

We’d want our children’s hero to have a healthy respect for his/her body. S/he would recognize the need to take care of his/her physical body through proper nutrition and exercise. S/he would know his/her physical strengths as well as limitations. S/he would feel comfortable with the body s/he has rather than continually trying to change it into something that can never be. We’d like him/her to enjoy the physical pleasures of life--the sensations of taste, smell, sight, hearing, and touch, but not be obsessed by them.

We’d want our children’s hero to be happy in his/her occupation. S/he would be doing something meaningful, something s/he enjoys. Enjoys? Something s/he loves doing, something s/he is passionate about. S/he should feel that s/he is making a positive difference in the world, making a contribution, to know, as the saying goes, that s/he’s part of the solution, not part of the problem. However, s/he should not be consumed by his/her career, but be able to leave it at the end of the day.

We’d want our children’s hero to have a healthy social life. We’d like him/her to have supportive friends--and to be one. S/he should realize the importance of family in his/her life, to be a functional part of his/her community. S/he would be able to take as well as to give, to lead as well as to follow, to know when to speak up and when to hush up. S/he would play as well as work. We’d want him/her to like people.

We’d want our children’s hero to be environmentally conscientious. S/he would have knowledge of and respect for the physical world s/he lives in. Our children’s hero would find out about renewable energy sources and not be afraid to spend a little more to pollute a little less. S/he would also buy reusables more and disposables less.

As I said, Payne Stewart was a good role model for our youth. He embodied a good work ethic when he persevered through years of less success to continually improve his performance. He exemplified compassion and a feeling for people with his reaction to winning the US Open. He showed a real spiritual life when he credited the turn-around in his career to a deepened faith in God. The fact that he played a sport professionally showed a certain commitment to physical fitness. There’s certainly an intellectual involvement in the strategy of his sport. The number of attendees and the tone of the eulogies at his funeral bespeak a social awareness on his part, that he was a compassionate, caring man. Stewart certainly displayed many of my criteria for a good role model. But did he possess all of these qualities? Of course not. Do we, as parents? Does any living, breathing being have them all? No. There is no one living person who is the perfect hero for our kids. As parents, we are probably the most important role models our children will have, but that doesn’t mean that we’re expected to be perfect in every way. We need to strive for a healthy balance of our emotional, intellectual, spiritual, physical, occupational, social, and environmental components. As we recognize other role models our children select, we need to point out the traits that make these people admirable. We can openly admire Aunt Jenny’s graciousness and wonderful social skills and Uncle Bob’s work ethic, explaining how they contribute to a healthy lifestyle. In pointing out commendable traits in as many people as we can, we also teach our children to look for, and recognize, the best in people.

END-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Rusti Kanz lives with her husband, and two children, in a suburb of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She has worked in both voluntary and paid positions in the local elementary and middle schools. Presently, she is employed as a secretary and lecturer at a liberal arts college. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Parkers Persausion: by Don Parker


LET’S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN

Perhaps you've heard it said that time is relative. From what little I understand of it I believe this is the basis of Einstein's Theory of Relativity. I seem to remember that if it were possible for one totravel at the speed of light, time actually slows and a space traveller would return to earth to find that he or she had not aged nearly as much as those left behind. While I haven't traveled at the speed of light Ihave experienced the relativity of time and I didn't even have to leave the cozy confines of the Big Blue Marble to do so. It happened back on September 28th while I was (briefly) visiting Sacred Heart Hospital. One moment it was around six thirty in the evening and then a few eye blinks later an hour had passed. How was this possible? Through the magic of chemistry.

Regular (and irregular) readers of this column may remember that early in August I suffered a detached retina in my right eye which required surgical repair. (See previous columns "Eye Wide Shut" and "Me And My Lady Bug") The extremely youthful-looking Dr. Robert Kraut, an ophthalmologist with The Center For Sight, did the work, but shortly afterwards he discovered another retinal tear in another part of myeye. He zapped it a few times with a laser death ray (a term which refers to the effect on the wallet, not the body), but the tear continued to grow and it soon became evident I was going to be seeingall my friends in the operating suite. Again. Dr. Kraut's, as it turned out, was only a few days from departing Pensacola for Orlando where he would be joining a new medical group. That meant I would be handed off to another retinal specialist, Dr. ArefRefai. The two of them would do the operation together and I would then become Dr. Refai's patient. The operation was going to be almost identical to the previous one. As before a "Scleral Buckle" (a thin bandof silicon) would be installed around the eyeball to provide support for the torn retina which would then be lasered into submission.

On Tuesday evening I was admitted to Sacred Heart as a "twenty-three hour patient," which means I was expected to go home after the surgery but could stay up to twenty-three hours if necessary. Once pstairs I changed into one of those drafty but functional gowns. They put in the I.V. for the anesthesia and off I went to the operating room.

Several of the nurses I met the last time were waiting for me, but they weren't happy. In my previous columns I had mentioned the names of the two nurses who had assisted me while I was in the hospital room but failed to mention the names of the nurses in the operating room. How did they know this? Dr. Kraut had shown them the columns so there was no way of denying it. One wouldn't think that it would be that big a deal...but it is. As one of them pointed out, "You know, when you're under the effects of the anesthesia we can do anything we want ." I wasn't sure what she meant by that but I certainly didn't want to wake up wearing pink toenail polish or with a tattoo on my bald head that said, "Have You Hugged Your Nurse Today?"

So to that end I want to make sure that everyone knows that while the actual surgery was performed by Drs. Kraut and Refai if it wasn't for the expert assistance rendered by Ellen, Amy, Debbie, Shelly and Angie, I'm quite sure I would not have survived. As for the relativity of time, it had to do with the anesthesia. Every time they pumped another dose of the joy juice into the I.V. away I'd go. But there was no dizziness, no sensation of becoming drowsy, no feeling that I was about to go to sleep. I would just wake up after a while and realize that time had passed. It was like splicing together segments of movie film. The parts which ended up on the cutting room floor represented the time I was unconscious. The operation took about two hours but it seemed like fifteen minutes to me and it was a strange feeling to have blocks of time simply disappear. But it wasn't a bad feeling and since there was no pain it certainly was not unpleasant.


So now I am back to wearing an eye patch again, round the clock medication and double vision when I do without the patch. Driving is again an adventure but the sound of blaring horns and squealing brakesis getting old and I sincerely hope my retina will decide to settle down and stay at home for a few more years. I sure don't want to go through another operation because I may have forgotten to mention the name one of the nurses.

END

Copyright Don Parker

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Don Parker is an international writer and entertainer, based in Pensacola Florida. He has a daily radio

show on WCOA, offering a varied outlook on the community.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This right of privacy...is broad enough to encompass a woman’s decision whether or not to terminate her pregnancy.’ This privacy right to abortion...was grounded in either the ‘Fourteenth Amendment’s concept of personal liberty or...in the Ninth Amendment’s reservation of rights to

the people”

USA Supreme Court decision in the Roe v. Wade case concerning the right to abortion.

The Xena Years by Elsie Roark


Like the car-rental ad, most number two wives try harder. At least I did, way back in the ‘70’s. I had a new husband, a teenage stepson, and a small business to run … and as a carryover from the back-to-basics culture of the ‘60’s, a desire to live a self-sufficient life style. Couple this with the newfound self-awareness of the era, and you have a picture of yours truly. I could work all day, go home, and cook my family a nourishing meal with no added preservatives or artificial flavors. I still found time to sew my own clothes, preserve my own food – grown organically in my backyard, of course – and even make my own soap. Yes, really. I was strong, I was invincible, I was WOMAN. I also drank copious amounts of black coffee.

True to form, along about the middle of November the quintessential Earth Mother faced the question of the approaching holiday dinner. Would I serve my family a frozen Butterball from Krogers on this special day? Not on your life! Only the genuine article would do, a fresh turkey. My preference was that it still be alive, so I might enjoy the satisfaction of preparing it the hard way, so full was I of the spirit of my ancestors.

Now where does one get such a bird? It helps if you live in the country and are on good terms with the farmer across the way, who just happened to raise a few turkeys every year. He agreed to sell me a nice hen, and I told him I would pick it up on Saturday after work, somewhere around noon.

I operated a beauty salon at the time and my schedule depended on the whims of my customers. By the time I finished with the last unscheduled perm and haircut, it was much closer to five in the afternoon before I was finally able to head for home. Unfortunately, farmers don’t have the same flexible time schedules as hairdressers, and the turkey had been tied up in a burlap bag since twelve o’clock.

Even the gentlest of turkeys can get pretty ticked off after being stuffed in a hot gunnysack for five hours. It was a tense five-minute drive home, with lots of thrashing and kicking sounds coming from the back seat. Luck and a stout piece of twine saved me from what could have been a prime disaster.

I carried my prize proudly into the kitchen, asking who was going to be the pilgrim to chop off its head so I could get on with the plucking. My husband declined, for he’d grown up on a farm and did not share my keenness for the independent life. All too familiar with milking and butchering, he felt the local supermarket had a lot going in its favor.

My stepson, a tough and manly fifteen, graciously offered to do the honors. He assured me he was up to the task, but I watched out the window with a certain amount of anxiety as he carried hatchet and wriggling bag out to the wood lot. Untying the string, he peered into the sack.

What happened next was a blur to my horrified vision. One minute he was looking down into the bag, and next minute he was ducking and weaving like he was outnumbered in a corncob fight. A brown whirlwind, with the wingspan of a 747, erupted from the sack. Faster than a heartbeat, our Thanksgiving dinner dashed across the yard. Streaking through the garden, she headed for the neighbors dog lot, causing their elderly Brittany spaniel to go on point for nearly ten minutes. And very nicely, too, thinking perhaps she had been entered in one last field trial – but, boy, that sure was a funny-looking pheasant!

I raised the call to arms, and my beleaguered husband answered. A straightforward kind of guy, he thought fast on his feet, and had a ready answer for his son’s out-of-breath question, “What should I do now, Dad?”

“Get a shotgun and shoot the sonnuvabitch before somebody sees us,” he answered, exasperated, plainly not understanding why we couldn’t figure this one out on our own.

I won’t go into gristly detail here, but suffice to say we lived in front of a large cornfield, and his solution was feasible. Our fresh turkey dinner was the best ever, and I truly had much to be thankful for that holiday. The man of the house was gracious enough to compliment me on a delicious meal, and I in


turn forgave him for mumbling something that sounded like “lunatics” and “asylum” as he passed down the hall to put away his gun.

END

© Elsie Roark 1999

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Elsie Roark lives near the mountains of south-eastern Kentucky, USA. She takes in silent cats, assorted small livestock, which may be wondering around without a home.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

”He who bends to himself a Joy Doth the wingèd life destroy;

But he who kisses the Joy as it flies Lives in Eternity’s sunrise.”

William Blake

Kegels Korner: With Stan Kegel.


Why DID the Chicken Cross the Road?

Have you ever wondered why the chicken did cross the road. Here is how that question might have been answered by some of our greatest minds.

Henry James:

He had been a natural leader, the King of the coop, until that fateful day when he tried to cross the road He was thrown fifty feet by a speeding car driven by a thoughtless youth celebrating his twenty-first birthday. And now he returns every year on the anniversary of that fateful event. That was not a chicken you saw crossing the road. That was an apparition, a poultrygeist.

Franz Kafka:

Dieter, now in the form of a chicken, was running from the government's torture machine. The machine, an instrument of death, slowly obliterated the souls of its victims. Dieter was alone. He was running for his life, his insignificant life.

William Blake:

Little chicken, who set thee free To wander here on Highway Three? "Oh, sir, your question's very odd; He is called the Lamb of God."

Little chicken, crushed and bleeding, You did not see that auto speeding. "Oh, sir, do not sit and brood: God just had a Tygerish mood."

Elizabeth Barrett Browning:

Why doth the chicken cross the road, let me count the ways.

Monty Python:

And God ascended from the heavens, and sayeth unto the Chicken, "Thou shalt cross the road." And the Chicken crossed the road, and there was much rejoicing. Yaaay.

Howard Cosell:

It may very well have been one of the most astonishing events to grace the annals of history. An historic unprecedented avian biped with the temerity to attempt such an herculean achievement formerly relegated to homo sapien pedestrians is truly a remarkable occurrence.

Andy Rooney

I could have said "Didja ever wonder why it is that the chicken crossed the road, and which road it was?" But I didn't. I did ask some turkeys, however, and this is what they said...

New York Times Editorial Board:


She should be awarded the pullet surprise.

Yoga Berra:

The road’s not crossed until its crossed.

Charles Darwin:

Chickens, over great periods of time, have been naturally selected in such a way that they are now genetically dispositioned to cross roads.

Douglas Adams:

There is a theory which states that if ever anybody discovers exactly why the chicken crossed the road, the Universe will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. There is another theory which states that this has already happened.

Albert Einstein:

Whether the chicken crossed the road or the road crossed the chicken depends upon your frame of reference.

Isaac Newton:

Chickens at rest tend to stay at rest. Chickens in motion tend to cross the road.

T.S. Eliot:

To leave the place she knew for another place And to stay there for a while And then to move onward to a third place.

Erwin Schroedinger:

Since the wording of the question implies the absence of an observer (else the fowl's motivation might easily be deduced), it is evident that the chicken simultaneously did and did not cross the road. In the face of this, any speculation as to the bird's purpose must be viewed as mere sophistry and as such is beyond the bounds of this discussion.

Sigmund Freud:

The chicken was obviously female and obviously interpreted the pole on which the crosswalk sign was mounted as a phallic symbol of which she was envious. It was a classic example of cock envy!

Elizabeth Kubler-Ross:

It is an emotional adaptation to the environment, a final acceptance of the necessity to cross after periods of shock and denial, anger, bargaining and depression.

Katherine McKinnon:


Because, in this patriarchal state, for the last four centuries, men have applied their principles of justice in determining how chickens should be cared for, their language has demeaned the identity of the chicken, their technology and trucks have decided how and where chickens will be distributed, their science has become the basis for what chickens eat, their sense of humor has provided the framework for jokes about chickens, their art and film have given us our perception of chicken life, their lust for flesh has made the chicken the most consumed animal in the US, and their legal system has left the chicken with no other recourse.

Margaret Mead: It is a pubertal rite of passage, a manifestation of coming of age.

Murphy:

The chicken will invariably cross the road at the worst possible time and the worst possible place.

Lyndon Baines Johnson:

"Ah have known many chickens in mah time. Some as friends, some as opponents, still others as dinner. Many chickens in our great society have tried to cross the road. Some have been successful. Others have been struck down by beer trucks in the prime of pullethood. Therefore I, as your president, ask the American people to rededicate themselves tonight to the struggles of chickens everywhere. They have begun their humble journeys across the road. Let them continyah."

Martin Luther King:

I envision a world where all chickens will be free to cross roads without having their motives called into question.

Senator Joseph McCarthy:

He was a Rhode Island Red conspiring against the U. S. of A.

Richard M. Nixon:

The chicken did not cross the road. I repeat, the chicken did not cross the road.

Theodore Roosevelt:

Far better for a chicken to dare to cross the road, even though crushed by a passing vehicle, than to take rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in the gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat."

Theodor Geisel (Dr. Seuss) :

Did the chicken cross the road?Did he cross it with a toad?Yes, the chicken crossed the road,But why it crossed, I’ve not been told.


George Washington:

We used chickens to sniff out British sympathizers. We called the operation “chicken cacciatore.”

Albert Schweitzer:

In every chicken’s life, at some time, the inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by a voyage across the road. We should all be thankful for that chicken who rekindles the inner spirit.

Ecclesiastes:

For every fowl, there is a season. A time for garlic, a time for sage. A time to cross, a time to stand still

George Berkeley:

It is immaterialistic and a conceptual absurdity that a chicken would cross the road for any other purpose than that being God’s will.

Clint Eastwood:

Cross. Go ahead. Make my day.

Groucho Marx:

Chicken? What's all this talk about chicken? Why, I had an uncle who thought he was a chicken. My aunt almost divorced him, but we needed the eggs.

Mishima:

For the beauty of it. The chicken’s extension of its sinuous legs sent shivers of a dark despair into the souls not only of the silently waiting hens but also the roosters, who felt a sudden sexual desire for their exquisite comrade. The dark courage of the chicken was as beautiful a drops of dew upon jade at midnight, struck by a partial moon, its light filtered through clouds. One of the deeply aroused roosters could stand the intensity of its moment no more and bit off the head of the beautiful courageous chicken-hero, whose wine blood was deliciously drunken by the road, and he died.

Mohammed:

It is not for the chicken to cross the road but for the road to come to the chicken.

Clive Barker:

He was drawn to the road, and he didn't so much cross the road as the road crossed him. And once across, the chicken entered into a frightening void, filled only with the screams of a thousand agonized souls. The hands of doom reached out of the blackness, strangling the chicken, smothering him, suffocating him. He could not escape, as no one who crosses the road can escape. He was now a prisoner of the Cenobytes, doomed to an eternity of pain.

John S. Crosbie:

If her father had known she had crossed the road, he would have turned over in his gravy.


William Faulkner:

The chicken, weighed down by the burden of a thousand chickens before her who in the swirling dust of the light bespeckled dusk of far fields in the long gone time of Gettysburg and Cold Harbor and Vicksburg, picked her way through the brown and muddy road as she sought to relive the faded glory and dying dreams of Grandmother--Grandmother whose eggs were sacrificed in one swirling raid upon the General's tent one crisp October morning because Jeb Stuart was lacking coffee.

Ayn Rand:

A chicken's first duty is to itself. And only by living for itself is it able to achieve the things which are the glory of chickenkind. Such is the nature of achievement.

Mickey Spillane:

She was a bantam bombshell with a body that could rock Plymouth and a feather on top of her comb, as I watched her crossing the road slowly slithering towards my cubbyhole I call an office.

Bulwer-Lytton:

It was a dark and stormy road, the rain glistening in the headlights of passing wagons, the horses heads' drooping against the wind and the tears from the sky, and their great muscles straining against the weight of the wagon, when the chicken, without looking up, which he could have, and perhaps should have, done, began his arduous trek across the muddy rivulets that ran ultimately into the sound.

William Shakespeare:

Bring me no more reports, let them fly all; 'Til a chicken remove to other side of road I cannot taint with fear. What is this chicken? Was he not born of hen? The spirits that know All fowl consequences have pronounced me thus: "Fear not, MacNugget; no chicken that's born of hen Shall e'er lay beak upon thee."

Eric Hoffer:

When chickens are free to do as they please, they usually imitate each other.

Spider Robinson:

Shared pain is lessened, shared joy is increased, shared chicken is soup. Thus, do we refute entropy.

Plato:

The ideal chicken must ideally cross the ideal road. Therefore, imperfect chickens in this world cross imperfect roads, imperfectly.

Gene Roddenberry:

To boldly go where no chicken has gone before.

Oliver Stone:


The question is not “Why did the chicken cross the road?” but rather “Who was crossing the road at the same time whom we overlooked in our haste to observe the chicken crossing?”

and some fictional characters:

Rick Blaine:

If she don't cross that road she'll regret it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of her life.

Forrest Gump:

My Mama always says, “stupid is what stupid does.”

Dr. Emmet Brown:

Roads? Where we're going we don't need roads.

Holly Golightly:

You know those days when you get the mean reds? Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Well, when I get it the only thing that does any good is to cross the road and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away.

Walter Mitty:

Staring out into space, he saw himself rescuing the flock from slaughter, never hearing the approaching truck.

Brett Maverick:

As my pappy used to say, “If someone wants to bet you that that chicken will cross the road to lay an egg, warm up the skillet to make an omelette.”

Scarlett O’Hara:

Cross! Cross! Cross! If I hear one more word about crossing the road I'll run in the house and slam the door!

and finally,

Tiggr:

Because that's what chickens do best!

END

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stan Kegel is a paediatric cardiologist practicing in Orange County, California. He is a long time collector of groaners and in his spare time runs three joke lists devoted to puns and shaggy dog stories. "Plentiful


Puns, Generous Groaners" "Puns of the Day" and "Shaggy Dog Stories." He has five children ranging in age from 13 to 40 and four grandchildren.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The real meaning of the language in personal ads

THE WOMEN SIDE OF THE LIST:

40-ish............ 48 Adventurer........ Has had more partners than you ever will Athletic.......... Flat Chested Average looking....Ugly Beautiful......... Pathological liar Contagious Smile.. Bring your penicillin Educated...........College dropout Emotionally Secure... Medicated Feminist.......... Fat; ball buster Free spirit....... Substance user Friendship first.. Trying to live down reputation as slut Fun............... Annoying Gentle............ Comatose Good Listener..... Borderline Autistic New-Age........... All body hair, all the time Old-fashioned..... Lights out, missionary position only Open-minded....... Desperate Outgoing.......... Loud Passionate........ Loud Poet.............. Depressive Schizophrenic Professional...... Real Witch Redhead........... Shops the Clairol section Reubenesque....... Grossly Fat Romantic......... Looks better by candle light Voluptuous........ Very Fat Weight proportional to height.......Hugely Fat Wants Soulmate.....One step away from stalking Widow..............Nagged first husband to death Young at heart.....Toothless crone

THE MALE SIDE NEXT MONTH !

[Picked up on the Internet. Copyright unknown]

Jesus Pimps by Don BarberaOccasionally, while channel surfing, something catches my eye. Sometimes it's a sporting event, an old movie or even an unusual commercial. Last night I stopped on a religious channel. What had caught my attention was a flaming red suit so bright that it literally looked like it was on fire.

At first I thought I had stumbled across a "Saturday Night Live" rerun but after listening for a few minutes I realized that this was serious business. I was totally captivated by the flash of color and light. It was like


a traffic accident-as much as I wanted to turn away-I couldn't make myself change the channel. So I watched.

I had no idea of what the man said because I couldn't understand a thing he was saying. I thought it was a Russian religious channel. I found out later the man was "speaking in tongues". Still, all I really remember was that shiny red suit he was wearing. He strutted back and forth in front of thousands in attendance waving his heavily jeweled hands and stopping only to smooth his mountainous blonde pompadour hair.

Every move he made revealed another item of jewelry or clothing. His white shirt was sealed off with a Hermes color coordinated tie along with red piping going around the color and french-cuffs of his custom made shirt. Hallelujah! Dripping diamonds encrusted watches, rings and giant crucifixes the man must have had at least 200 pounds of jewelry on. If would have stepped into a baptismal, he and his client would have drowned from the excess weight.

I watched in awe as he strolled and strutted across the stage. I turned the channel after a while, but it stayed in my mind. So much jewelry. So much show. For an experiment, I waited until Sunday and channel surfed all day. I was amazed at the number of preaching peacocks parading across the television screen. All day long they paraded in everything from silver shoes and cowboy boots to gold studded hats and jeweled capes. I figured Pimps "R" Us must be doing a thriving business. I hadn't seen that many peacocks since the NBC logo exploded.

There it was right before my eyes. These guys would make any Saturday night pimp proud. A parade of peacocks. Pimps for Jesus. The few women I've seen helping these preaching peacocks looked like they were going square dancing, to a night club, were doing commercials on how to use too much make up or were working for a pimp. I've seen other ministers, while flamboyant, charismatic or self confident, somehow they seem to be able to represent themselves in a low key and trusting manner. Blue suits, white shirts, subdued ties and robes are the dress for these preachers. I am not making fun. I am questioning themethod.

Personally, I find it great theatre and showmanship. The choreography, the pecial effect and especially the timing are great. The timing is exquisite. The pauses, the shouts, the call and response from the organ are all top flight crowd pleasing entertainment looking at it from a performance perspective. At first I believed I had tuned into an upbeat political convention especially with all the promises being made and the reaction of the audience. Purple suits, green suits, white suits, leisure suits, white shoes, blue shoes and loads of jewelry were the norm. Maybe I had tuned into the circus but it wasn't. Sadly, it wasn't.

As entertaining as it was, I couldn't help but think that somehow the message was lost in the showroom atmosphere, the circus ringmaster was lost among the palatial sets, histrionics, special effects and opulence. I admit that I enjoyed the show, but after removing the costumes, special effects and music-there was no meat on the bone. The flock had been shown the banquet and had been tricked into think they had actually consumed some of the feast-but in the end all I saw were everyday men and women leaving the show after giving up a hard earned wage to be entertained by false prophets and money-changers.


END

Copyright Don Barbera 1999

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Don Barbera is a former newspaper journalist and photographer. He has also been a professional musician for many years. He has several degrees of which his family is certainly proud. He is now a part of the corporate world where he still writes. As penance for his corporate presence, he teaches English and creative writing at a local university.------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“The true men of action in our time, those who transform the world, are not the politicians and statesmen, but the scientists. Unfortunately, poetry cannot celebrate them, because their deeds are concerned with things, not persons and are, therefore, speechless.”

W. H. Auden

LUCID PETUNIAS by Alan Webb

Hello dear reader,


Last month I delved into the world of the limerick and today it is the Japanese haiku which comes under the spotlight. In keeping with the art form, this could be the shortest lucid petunias to date, although somewhat longer than the traditional two lines and seventeen syllables!

The artistic genius of the Japanese is perfection in little things: the search for the essence. In the West, there is a tendency to “never mind the quality, feel the width,” an epic view of life on the grand, globalised scale, and there are those who consider encounters with Japanese poetry as . . . disappointing. It is over before you begin . . . they are just fragments of longer poems that any western writer could produce.

While the outer form is diminutive, the inner landscape of haiku may be immense. As a nature poem, they seek the illusive “Ahness of things;” in the West it is Zeitgeist, in the East it is Zen.

According to Alan Watts in The Way of Zen, there are four moods which subtly permeate Japanese culture: sabi, wabi, aware and yugen.

Sabi is the eternal loneliness in the sense of Buddhist detachment, of seeing things happening by themselves from a state of deep quietude:

Autumn evening: on a withered bough,

A solitary crow is sitting now [Basho]

Aware is the moment of crisis between seeing the transience of the world with sorrow and regret, and seeing it as the very form of the Great Void:

Ah! The first, the gentlest fall of snow;

Enough to make the jonquil-leaves bend low. [Basho]

Wabi is the “unexpected recognition of the faithful ‘suchness’ of very ordinary things”:

I shut my brushwood gate; but should that fail

To stop intruders, for a lock - this snail! [Issa]

Yugen is “never-to-be-fathomed mysteriousness”:

Over foam-flecked waves in the falling night

The wild ducks, cries are dying, dim and white. [Basho]

The haiku is often painted with a touch of satire:

Autumn night on the river, with a moon;

My neighbour’s flute is playing -out of tune! [Shiki]

Or naive childlike humor:

Again the cherry buds are bursting through:

Horses have four legs! Birds have only two! [Onitsura]

But never far away are hints at metaphysical profundities -- the universal principles of Mahayana


Buddhist Doctrine:

A water-rail’s insistent cry has ended:

The broken moon among reeds is mended

The cry of the bird is trishna: our thirst for life with its cravings and clinging. The full moon, the bright detachment of Buddhahood - the Clear Light of the Void - reflected in the dark waters of earthly existence, but only in rare and fleeting glimpses. This is prajna -- the intuition, immutable, serene, but apparently scattered by the agitated ripples of our distraction. When the cry of unfulfilled desire ceases, then the broken light of our Intellect reintegrates within. The moon is mended.

As Harold Stewart in his Net of Fireflies aptly puts it, to the sensitive and cultured Oriental mind, already imbued in the Buddhist tradition, such a metaphysical interpretation is not merely an addition of “painted legs to the live snake, it stings the poetry of the haiku to death as well.” He points out that such interpretations should not be made except to show the restless, impatient minds, with no time to pause for contemplation and, heaven forbid for poetry, what unsuspected worlds may open up behind the simple and the unassuming. It is the sacred science of symbols beyond allegory, overt mention or explicit development. It is the here and now that is free from philosophizing. It is the penultimate expression of the ultimately inexpressible. It is a mantra for poetic experience where the reader, by imaginative collaboration can recreate something of the poet's original moment of realization. This is yathabhutan -- to see things as they really are, if only briefly, through the eyes of Buddha.

The host said not a word. The guest was dumb.

Ant silent, too, the white chrysanthemum. [Ryota]

This is the silence as that by which the Buddha, lifting up the lotus blossom and smiling, communicated to Kasyapa the secret of Zen.

The haiku is like the koan, the nonsensical and solutionless problem used in Zen meditation -- beyond the rational impasse, the dead ends of logic, when the sudden flash of transcendent insight, reveals the way out. This momentary shock is the outward sign of the active presence of sartori -- the inner form as distinct from its verse pattern. Stewart describes this spark of insight as flashing between two poles: Nirvana and Samsara. The negative pole is the infinite and eternal Void, which is too positive to be described in any but negative terms. The positive pole is the “finite and temporal Round of Existence, which is a negative deprivation from the viewpoint of the Indefinable.” The former is the static and changeless Principle, the latter is its ever-moving and momentary application. Between them, at the instant the haiku is understood, travels the electric Intuition: prajna.

Stewart notes that in the Abhidhamma, or metaphysical section of the Pali Canon, the longest process of consciousness caused by sense perception consists of seventeen thought-instants (cittakkhana) -- in view of this, it is not surprising, therefore, that the haiku is composed of exactly seventeen syllables.

Translation into English, however, has its problems. Japanese is an elusive, elliptical language and a straight word for word verse translation can lose the poetry along the way. Seventeen Japanese syllables do not necessarily translate into seventeen English ones. Japanese is rich in homophony and haiku masters delighted in play on words, often concealed within key ‘pivotal’ words, which may or may not make sense in translation.

Stewart uses as an example, a haiku by Sokan to illustrate the stages of its passage into English poetry:

Romanised Japanese:

Koe nakuba


Sagi koso yuki no

Hitosturane

Literal translation:

Voice if-were-not

White-herons only snow’s

One-line-see?

Translation into haiku form (3 lines, 17 syllables (5,7,5):

If they gave no cry,

See, those white herons would be

But one line of snow!

In poetic couplet form (10 syllables per line):

That flights of egrets, if they gave no cry,

Would be a streak of snow across the sky

Both the 3 and 2 line versions provide a balance between the older metrical forms of English poetry and the modern free verse form. Here are a few of my own humble attempts at haiku in both forms. These are about my observations and experiences of summer in tropical northern Queensland:

The green tree frog peers through the window pane

Wide mouthed, smiling, and drunk on summer rain

En masse in the garden sea gulls gather

A cyclone comes- soon the windy weather!

Mangoes blossom behind the garden wall

Ah, in the distance, the first koel’s* call

(* the storm bird -its arrival signals the start of the Wet Season)

The coral reef

Movement, colours, sounds, shapes

Like Sunday markets!

Turtle, heavy shelled

Comes ashore to dig its nest

See its salty tears!

Footprints in the sand


A wave rolls into the shore

Now I am alone

I now wait, dear reader, with bated breath, to receive some of your insights! Bye for now.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alan is currently a PhD student and tutor in the Department of Zoology, James Cook University, Queensland, Australia. He has been writing poetry for about seven years and has had work published in student and literary publications in Australia and overseas. His other interests include playing music (whistles and flutes), meditation and shamanism.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I know not whether Laws be right, Or whether Laws be wrong;

All that we know who lie in gaol Is that the wall is strong;

And that each day is like a year, A year whose days are long.

The Ballad of Reading Gaol

Oscar Wilde

And one more thing…

by our Assosiate Editor Jenna Czaplewski

Dear Reader,


It's a pleasure to meet you all as I step out of the behind-the-scenes curtain and actually write something for you all to read. I've been working for our wonderful publication for a few months now and decided that the time is right for me to write as well as read the content of Disceptatio. So, here I am, and I do hope you won't mind if I stay.

Even writers (like me and my colleagues) are intimidated by a blank page. Countless and irrational thoughts ping-pong across our minds as we try to figure out the delicate intricacies: what should I write about? Will anyone appreciate this? Is writing one of those activities we do just for the sake of writing? And, perhaps most often, am I making any sense at all?

Truly, it amazes me what comes out of my mind and makes my fingers punch the appropriate keys on the board. Other times I'm struck by my own true genius!

But, seriously, what drives us to write? The world around us is crazy enough, perhaps the chance to create an existence entirely under our control is enough to motivate anyone to put pen to pad, or finger to key as it were.

I'm also a reporter for a community newspaper, so I see first hand both the good and the bad. Sometimes I'm sent reeling for something positive and encouraging to include in our pages in the midst of all the police incidents, lawsuits and arguments that seem so abundant. I'm surprised I'm able to read the paper or watch the news at all! I'm one of those "sensitive" people. I actually cry when I see the horrible coverage of plane wrecks and shootings, or read the carefully thought out words of a family in mourning published in the form of obituaries. It's not an unusual occurrence for my friends to throw away my paper and news magazines and forbid me to watch news programs.

Fortunately, I'm blessed with the ability to cry for others. A blessing? Most certainly! Compassion, an emotional connection, is what, in my opinion, is lacking from so many today. I urge all of you to reach out in some way. Say 'bless you' to a stranger who sneezes in the store; help a co-worker carry his or her files into the office if he or she looks overwhelmed; smile at someone you see and bid them 'good day.' It's a truly wonderful feeling to see the reaction.

Now, as I finish my own typing, I hope I've not bored you or turned you away from reading my writing. I also hope you reach out to me in return. What moves you? What angers you? What things are you trying to say to anyone, but just can't find the words for? Click away on your keyboards and let me know -- I'd be happy to help. Or even just listen.

END

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jenna can be contacted at - Fubar8877@aol.com-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CLASSIFIEDRATE CARD

Six Issues [six months] only £5. [sterling]. Per Issue only £1. Max 50 words. No extra charge for Colour


or Links. [Classifieds also appear on our Web Site]

Send to mailto:[email protected] put CLASSIFIED as the "Subject". Send "as to be printed". Payment by [Snail mail] UK Cheque or International Money Order only, made payable to "Barretts". DO NOT SEND CASH or Credit Card numbers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CURTAIN UP Job postings for Theatre, Television and Film. Subscription $20.00/$30.00 snail mail-cheque or money order payable to: Clair Sedore, 810-85 The Esplanade, Toronto, Ontario M5E 1Y8,Canada.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The E-Zine Publishing Course is now ONLINE. This four-week course will teach you every aspect of the e-zine publishing business. For more information.mailto:kwilliams@thenett.com----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------THE E-ZINE SITE contains a text list of over 600 free subscription e-zines at http://www.site-city.com/members/e-zine-master/ T o receive monthly updates of new listings, to receive sample copies of these e-zines or to submit new listings -mailto:chrig98@aol.com.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------FRUSTRATED WITH ONLINE MARKETING? We have a complete listing of e-zine’s that accept advertising! All the information you need to get your message out. Find and reach the people who want what you have to offer. Discover the best new way to generate traffic and sales month after month.http://www.ezineadsource.com/----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------THE NEW YUCK TIMES: "All the humor that’s fit to print" Bill Williams, your editor-in-chuckle brings you the only news-zine with funnies from front to back. Subscribe at http://thenewyucktimes.listbot.com/ or mailto:[email protected] . ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------FUNNY SIDE UP Bob Hope’s veteran script writer Bob Mills publishes this free, daily comedy e-zine with topical jokes from politically incorrect to tasteless to, on occasion, a real sickie. Plus fascinating stories from behind-the-scenes at the Bob Hope Show. See a sample at http://home.switchboard.com/funnysideup or sign up at http://funnysideup.listbot.com/ . No browser? E-mail Bob at mailto:[email protected] and put "free laughs" in the subject box.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------HAVING A BAD DAY? Want to make it better? How about some FREE jokes delivered straight to your mailbox? Join a hilarious joke list by subscribing to Jershie's Jokes! The address is: mailto:JershieJokes-owner@onelist.com.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

JOKEBOOK If you would like to join Barb's list and receive jokes and stories almost every day, go to http://www.onelist.com/subscribe.cgi/barbsjokebook o r email to mailto:[email protected] w ith the word "subscribe" as the subject. Have a really nice day!----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MALIGNANT SELF-LOVE "Narcissism Revisited" by Dr. Sam Vaknin http://thebook.cjb.net. If you had a narcissistic parent, were married to a narcissist, afraid for your children, if you are a narcissist or a therapist treating narcissists this could help you. The book and website includes a psychodynamic essay, 65 FAQ’s on pathological narcissism, 2500 item print and online bibliography, 13 appendices in 430 print pages or more than 400 pages via email.Order today directly at mailto:[email protected], or through Barnes and Noble.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


NetProfit 2020 Inc. Free Trial Software and all the Website Marketing Tools you need for successful Internet Promotion. Free Trail software, Internet Tools, a great selection of build to order computers, hardware, software, notebooks and more!http://www.netprofit2020.com/----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------THE POULTRY CONNECTION Check out Tim Jones Site on http://www.poultryconnection.com/Information, Advice, Chat. A must for all poultry folks.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------THE REALLY USEFUL COMPUTER COMPANY For Repair, Maintenance, Hardware, Software, and Advice. Just call Paul [Harbourne] on [UK] 01743 243172. We can solve any problem. Or e-mail Paul at mailto:paul.harbourne@btinternet.com----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Second Wives, the Silent Struggle by Christine Thomas is a lively, honest, and forthright discussion of the life of today’s second wife. Direct quotations from second wives are sprinkled throughout to show that we’re all in this together. It can be previewed at http://www.fenderpub.com/wives.html.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Writersbbs.com is a place to connect with those who love the written word. All levels of writers are welcome. Come chat, critique and open your mind with writers around the world at http://www.writersbbs.com.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------WRITER’S ROOM Need help negotiating the publishing maze? Judith Kelman's "Writer’s Room" is designed to answer the questions and quandaries of aspiring authors.http://www.brainlink.com/~jkelman/index.html

FREE COOL-SITES NEWSLETTER!You are cordially invited to subscribe to the FREE newsletter: "Rob's wURLd | Best of the Web"! It is a weekly letter featuring family-friendly "Best of the Web" and "Cool-Site" selections for ALL ages! You may subscribe for FREE at: http://RobswURLd.listbot.com/ -On The Web-

OR:[email protected] {Past issues are archived at the subscription site} ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Info-ReSource - FREE and/or low cost sources of information delivered right to your email box. Send an email to subscribe@info-resource.com---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------WHISPERS ONline Magazine for Women.

An interesting magazine for interesting women. http://www.whispersmagazine.com/ Articles cover Image, Food, Home, Finance, Computing, Romance, Travel and Arts & Entertainment as well as forums and chat. For your free subscription Subscribe at mailto:[email protected]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~An interesting magazine for Women~~~~~~~~~~~~

OzFx WEB DESIGNS: “Writers designing sites for Writers” OzFX Web designs are innovative, creative and unique to each customer. Our prices and work are flexible and designed to accommodate you!We create a site to be proud of, according to what you want. The creation of your site includes a lot of extras most designers don’t bother with:· A search engine, feedback forms and others.· We find and setup a free account with a web host to put your site on.· A guestbook, email account and other extras in Java or ActiveX.· We upload your site to your new URL then turn it over to you.· Custom graphics if you need them.


· Monthly maintenance of your site if you don’t have time to keep it up.· We supply you with a printout of all the files on your site.· We also supply documents to help you with how to get into

your site and how to maintain it. HTML tips and help info!· When it's completed, we send you a complete folder of

files for your site: HTML pages, graphics and music.We do Java, animations and custom logos or banners. We would be happy to give you a quote for a Logo, a page or an entire site. We even do revamps of existing sites. If you're interested in knowing how affordable a site is, just email us for more information. We're always flexible!Email: [email protected] OR: Visit our site at: http://www.angelfire.com/biz2/ozfx/

Wordweave Creative Writing Web. Wordweave aims to provide beginning writers with activities and resources that will encourage and inspire them to write. We stimulate your writing progress through writing activities and collaborative stories, and by offering you regular theme pages to submit your writing to. You are invited to jump-start your writing by joining one of Wordweave's free email workshops, join our discussion and critique list, and subscribe to our free monthly newsletter.

Wordweave - Inspiration, activities and resources for the creative writer see –

http://www.geocities.com/Wellesley/Veranda/2932/wordweav/index.html

Wordweb Newsletter [email protected]

Wordweave Discussion List - mailto:[email protected]

ENDQUOTE by Lewis Carroll

‘What is the use of a book,’ thought Alice, ‘without pictures or conversation?’

[Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland]

Disceptatio is electronically printed by Online Digital Images, world leaders in electronic printing. We specialise in personal and business electronically printed stationery. Perhaps we may be able to help you. For a free consultation please e-mail us - mailto:[email protected] and tell us what you would like to do.

Compiled in Microsoft Word 2000 © and distributed in Adobe PDF© & MS Word 6 ©

Finis.

disceptatio 10 - angelfire.com · web viewyou are free to distribute disceptatio in its entirety,...

Documents