Sunday, April 17, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
A whole new day
It has been over a year since I last posted on this blog. Part of the reason for ceasing my blog was my desire to be heard. I felt that I was not being heard here and so I stopped. Plus, there was a lot of crazy stuff going on in my life (not that there isn't any now but somehow I was hoping to use this place to start anew).
In starting a new daily routine here, (I hope I can keep this up), the goal is to work on my craft and to state my message all at the same time. So of course, this will be a
work in progress.
I feel a need to emphasize that. Not so much for you the reader, but rather for myself because I never give myself the benefit of not knowing. I always think that I should know what it is that I am doing. In creative writing, there is the fact that if you know what you are doing then you are not being creative.
I wanted to underline that statement but I could not find the underline button. Oh well.
[If you bother to read the previous posts you will find that I liked to think that I knew what I was talking about. (Personally, most men that like sports are that way, I think). In the last post, I stated that none of the free three big agents were going to go to New York. That turned out to be true but New York did get three stars - Stat, Melo, & Chauncey. They just did not get the three stars who went to Miami. The real reason I was upset with the idea of the stars going to New York had nothing to do with basketball at all. I did not like the arrogance of New Yorkers thinking that there is no other place in the world anyone with a logic mind would choose over New York City. I also do not like the arrogance of Texans who think that their state is the world.]
Now back to the big topic - Spirituality (as defined by me).
(I wanted to make that title stand out a bit but I do not know if it is as flashy as a neon sign, oh well.)
Spirit is the indescribable nature of our soul. We know when we have it, by gauging our energy and joy. When know when we don't have it simply by not feeling as joyous or energetic. Spirit moves in any direction that we move ourselves in. Towards love or towards hate. Spirit flows with us.
But how do we gain or lose spirit ? The answer is quite simple. It is in our attitude towards what it is that we are doing (or our attitude towards the direction that we are going in). If we don't like what we are doing then we will begin to feel less energetic. If we like what we are doing then we will feel energized. (Employers take note: an employee who likes his job, will do more and better work.)
For me, my work is writing (I hope). The problem with writing for me is my attitude. Previously, my attitude has been all or nothing. I wanted success or I was not going to bother. Add to this attitude, my fear of failure and you will get why I am not a world famous author (I have never submitted anything for publishing other than two online things - one succeeded, the other did not - that was enough to stop me in my tracks).
I now hope to make some changes to my attitude (with regards to writing).
I want to try everyday. I do not care if it succeeds or if it fails because each piece makes me better.
I am not afraid to try. I am not afraid to succeed. I am not afraid to fail. Enough said for now.
In starting a new daily routine here, (I hope I can keep this up), the goal is to work on my craft and to state my message all at the same time. So of course, this will be a
work in progress.
I feel a need to emphasize that. Not so much for you the reader, but rather for myself because I never give myself the benefit of not knowing. I always think that I should know what it is that I am doing. In creative writing, there is the fact that if you know what you are doing then you are not being creative.
I wanted to underline that statement but I could not find the underline button. Oh well.
[If you bother to read the previous posts you will find that I liked to think that I knew what I was talking about. (Personally, most men that like sports are that way, I think). In the last post, I stated that none of the free three big agents were going to go to New York. That turned out to be true but New York did get three stars - Stat, Melo, & Chauncey. They just did not get the three stars who went to Miami. The real reason I was upset with the idea of the stars going to New York had nothing to do with basketball at all. I did not like the arrogance of New Yorkers thinking that there is no other place in the world anyone with a logic mind would choose over New York City. I also do not like the arrogance of Texans who think that their state is the world.]
Now back to the big topic - Spirituality (as defined by me).
(I wanted to make that title stand out a bit but I do not know if it is as flashy as a neon sign, oh well.)
Spirit is the indescribable nature of our soul. We know when we have it, by gauging our energy and joy. When know when we don't have it simply by not feeling as joyous or energetic. Spirit moves in any direction that we move ourselves in. Towards love or towards hate. Spirit flows with us.
But how do we gain or lose spirit ? The answer is quite simple. It is in our attitude towards what it is that we are doing (or our attitude towards the direction that we are going in). If we don't like what we are doing then we will begin to feel less energetic. If we like what we are doing then we will feel energized. (Employers take note: an employee who likes his job, will do more and better work.)
For me, my work is writing (I hope). The problem with writing for me is my attitude. Previously, my attitude has been all or nothing. I wanted success or I was not going to bother. Add to this attitude, my fear of failure and you will get why I am not a world famous author (I have never submitted anything for publishing other than two online things - one succeeded, the other did not - that was enough to stop me in my tracks).
I now hope to make some changes to my attitude (with regards to writing).
I want to try everyday. I do not care if it succeeds or if it fails because each piece makes me better.
I am not afraid to try. I am not afraid to succeed. I am not afraid to fail. Enough said for now.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
A not too well recieved poem
I wrote this poem and posted it to a online writing community and got Luke Warm comments.
If you read this please tell me what you think (or feel) about it.
PUNK, You ate Shun !
Said the Dude venting his spleen,
‘cept his spleen turned out to be . . .mine (gut reaction saved me almost;
Thus my colon became a semi-colon).
His weapon of words pierced my armor, jabbed at the heart of my messy message disguised as a poem - No Rhyme, No Reason, No thing worthy of placing my eyesight upon it - he continued believing in his vicious victory and was taken
both a back and off guard by my rapicious retort: (Ye of faire stomach should cease perusing here)
“I neither play by the rules invented by men long dead
nor by those secluded deluded fool-uded fellows you hold in good stead.
My rules are not what you could follow since they come from a dark place in my head.
There is but one objective in these lines of mine
never to reason, never to rhyme, if these commit the crime
of placing proper-ness over passion, sense over sensation, and/or method over message.
The power of the poet is touching the untouchable
putting words to silence
and piercing the heart of unknown readers
who thought they knew what they knew,
(little did they know it wasn’t so)
So back get ye to the nether regions of the page
dark upon the shelve - gather your dust -
I claim my spot among your memory cells.
You might not like it but it you will not forget.”
If you read this please tell me what you think (or feel) about it.
PUNK, You ate Shun !
Said the Dude venting his spleen,
‘cept his spleen turned out to be . . .mine (gut reaction saved me almost;
Thus my colon became a semi-colon).
His weapon of words pierced my armor, jabbed at the heart of my messy message disguised as a poem - No Rhyme, No Reason, No thing worthy of placing my eyesight upon it - he continued believing in his vicious victory and was taken
both a back and off guard by my rapicious retort: (Ye of faire stomach should cease perusing here)
“I neither play by the rules invented by men long dead
nor by those secluded deluded fool-uded fellows you hold in good stead.
My rules are not what you could follow since they come from a dark place in my head.
There is but one objective in these lines of mine
never to reason, never to rhyme, if these commit the crime
of placing proper-ness over passion, sense over sensation, and/or method over message.
The power of the poet is touching the untouchable
putting words to silence
and piercing the heart of unknown readers
who thought they knew what they knew,
(little did they know it wasn’t so)
So back get ye to the nether regions of the page
dark upon the shelve - gather your dust -
I claim my spot among your memory cells.
You might not like it but it you will not forget.”
Saturday, December 27, 2008
A Rebuttal to the Previous Post (from ELF)
This is a rebuttal to the previous post about the origin of Santa. Speaking on behalf of ELF (Enslaved Labor Force) is Ebenezer Grinchmouse III.
Hi kids. My name is Ebenezer Grinchmouse III. My friends call me. . .hmm, It seems I don't have any friends, but in any case you can call me, Big Brother.
As your big Brother, I look out for you. You can count on me to tell you what to do, when to do it and how much you owe me for that service.
Recently this blog posted a pack of lies about a mythical character called Santa. Santa is corporate entity formed from the merger of the Claus Company (maker of hard to read fine print details) and the Santa consortium (Sissies Against Neighborhood Theater Associations). He does not exist. He is a figurehead used by the Parent Teacher Alliance (PTA) to keep you kids in line. They bribe you with toys in order to make you behave - I think that is a good idea. What I object to is the use of ELFs to make these toys.
ELFs are the enslaved labor forces commonly known as parents. They are forced to work at menial, thankless jobs throughout the year in order to pay for your toys. You think Santa gives these toys away ? Just for the fun of it ? No, money does not grow on trees (not yet at least, genetic research is working on that one). Santa charges 10% per month in interest and colossal late fees And do you know why ? To keep the Parents in line, so they have to keep working in order to keep the toys coming which seems to be the only thing that make you kids happy.
I hope you are happy.
There is a way to change things.
If each one of you kids would go up to your parents and say :
Mom, Dad, I don't want you to work at crummy jobs just so I can have a Transformer Barbie doll. I want you to have a happy life too. So I will give back all my toys and you can get store credit to buy yourself something nice. I will be happy playing with my pet lump of coal.
Do this kids and your parents will love you truly and they will stop trying to buy your love with material objects and Santa Corp. will go out of business and parents will be free.
Thank you and goodnight.
Hi kids. My name is Ebenezer Grinchmouse III. My friends call me. . .hmm, It seems I don't have any friends, but in any case you can call me, Big Brother.
As your big Brother, I look out for you. You can count on me to tell you what to do, when to do it and how much you owe me for that service.
Recently this blog posted a pack of lies about a mythical character called Santa. Santa is corporate entity formed from the merger of the Claus Company (maker of hard to read fine print details) and the Santa consortium (Sissies Against Neighborhood Theater Associations). He does not exist. He is a figurehead used by the Parent Teacher Alliance (PTA) to keep you kids in line. They bribe you with toys in order to make you behave - I think that is a good idea. What I object to is the use of ELFs to make these toys.
ELFs are the enslaved labor forces commonly known as parents. They are forced to work at menial, thankless jobs throughout the year in order to pay for your toys. You think Santa gives these toys away ? Just for the fun of it ? No, money does not grow on trees (not yet at least, genetic research is working on that one). Santa charges 10% per month in interest and colossal late fees And do you know why ? To keep the Parents in line, so they have to keep working in order to keep the toys coming which seems to be the only thing that make you kids happy.
I hope you are happy.
There is a way to change things.
If each one of you kids would go up to your parents and say :
Mom, Dad, I don't want you to work at crummy jobs just so I can have a Transformer Barbie doll. I want you to have a happy life too. So I will give back all my toys and you can get store credit to buy yourself something nice. I will be happy playing with my pet lump of coal.
Do this kids and your parents will love you truly and they will stop trying to buy your love with material objects and Santa Corp. will go out of business and parents will be free.
Thank you and goodnight.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
The first Christmas - as it was told to me
Grandpa held us spell bound. Grandpa was old and knew everything - we were young and curious. And there was time to fill before dinner.
"Tell us about Santa, Grandpa" my cousin Jimmy said, "we want to know about Santa."
"Yeah," my sister Betty said, "how did Santa get to be Santa."
Grandpa took a big long breath and started talking. "Santa was a communist but in those days he was called a Spartan - in fact he was king of the Spartans and Attila the Hun was the bully next door. Attila used to call Santa rude names and never let him play in reindeer games. Then one foggy night Santa snuck away and vowed to find the Holy Grail which was located in the Temple of Doom, sitting on the Arc of the Covenant. He took Rudolph Valentino with him because Rudolph had a shiny nose due to his drinking problem - Santa thought some night air might do him good.
They drove their Chevy to the levee but the levee was a LEVI Strauss so they all got new pants. That was when they met the new girl who was not polite so they called her Frosty. But she wanted to come too, so they let her.
Santa, Frosty, and Rudolph saw a star in the sky so they followed it but it turned out to be a Blimp but that was a good thing because this blimp was a blip on the radar screen of God. So God sent an angel to guide them but the angel got lost and they all stopped at Denny''s for a late night snack. And that was where the angel whose name was unknown but he was the littlest angel so he ordered pancakes and he fell in love with the waitress whose name was Hi Dee because that was what her name tag said.
Hi Dee wanted to come with but had to work but the little angel said "I'll work for you." Hi Dee said he was an angel and the angel said I know.
Hi Dee said she needed to get back to her Grandfather's house. "Let's go." said Santa, "Its on our way." But that was when the Latin Queens street gang and dance group stopped them. Their names were Dashboard, Blogger, Danny Boy and Prancer Dancer. Hey, they said, we got a SUV that seats eight, hop in. So they did and it turns out the SUV had GPS so they found the Temple of Doom in no time flat. Dashboard, Blogger and Danny Boy stayed behind to fix the flat.
There was a scarecrow guarding the front door. He told them to watch out for the wicked witch of the Zest who lived in the Temple.
"She has got my friend Dorothy in there - held prisoner in the ruby slippers of doom. You must promise to save her."
So they did and the scarecrow let them in and gave them a dog to show them the way. The dog's name was SoSo but for some strange reason he only answered to ToTo. Toto (sosso) led them through a maze of stores, a place called MAZE Cs. There were clothes stores like ambercrombie and witch, toy stores such as Brats R Us and even a strange store where everything was made of wood (Hickory Forms). They were worn out when they spotted the food court and sat down and got some coffee at Caribou and doughnuts at Donner's Party (a pastry place).
And that was when they ran into Bebe Jesus (pronounced BAYBAY Hey Zeus), who told them that it was his birthday tomorrow and he was having a party and that he had a gift for everybody. If they were Catho Licks they had to go en masse first, before the party.
Santa thought that was a good idea so he decided to get gifts for everybody, too. So he made a list, checked it twice and then he ran into Victoria who had the secret of what to get the naughty people. Luckily for Santa the shopping mall stayed open late and had things like gift certificates and exchange policies. Santa even found something for Attila at Conan's Discount Barbarian store.
But he had to figure out how to get the presents to everyone. So he went to the cell phone kiosk, got himself an iPhone and checked out the home site for PARENTS (national organization of people who have kids) - Parents agreed to help Santa if he would allow them to come with their kids to the mall and have their pictures taken with him.
But the parents took along time to come and Santa got fat from eating doughnuts and old from having to wait a long time and he grew a long beard because the mall would not let him shave.
But he was always happy to see the children because he knew that after they came he could go home. When he got home, he found the bank had foreclosed on him so he had to move to a place where the property values were low. And that place was the north pole.
Dancer Prancer and Frosty got married and moved in with Santa. They had eight kids who won the America's got Talent contest - their act was called the Rain Dears. They were illusionists and their big illusion (with which they closed every show in Vegas with) was pretending that they were making a sleigh fly through the air over the audience. Packages would fall out of the sleigh onto the laps of every kid in the audience. . .
It was at this point, that we were interrupted by our parents who told us it was time to eat dinner. I never did hear the end of the story.
"Tell us about Santa, Grandpa" my cousin Jimmy said, "we want to know about Santa."
"Yeah," my sister Betty said, "how did Santa get to be Santa."
Grandpa took a big long breath and started talking. "Santa was a communist but in those days he was called a Spartan - in fact he was king of the Spartans and Attila the Hun was the bully next door. Attila used to call Santa rude names and never let him play in reindeer games. Then one foggy night Santa snuck away and vowed to find the Holy Grail which was located in the Temple of Doom, sitting on the Arc of the Covenant. He took Rudolph Valentino with him because Rudolph had a shiny nose due to his drinking problem - Santa thought some night air might do him good.
They drove their Chevy to the levee but the levee was a LEVI Strauss so they all got new pants. That was when they met the new girl who was not polite so they called her Frosty. But she wanted to come too, so they let her.
Santa, Frosty, and Rudolph saw a star in the sky so they followed it but it turned out to be a Blimp but that was a good thing because this blimp was a blip on the radar screen of God. So God sent an angel to guide them but the angel got lost and they all stopped at Denny''s for a late night snack. And that was where the angel whose name was unknown but he was the littlest angel so he ordered pancakes and he fell in love with the waitress whose name was Hi Dee because that was what her name tag said.
Hi Dee wanted to come with but had to work but the little angel said "I'll work for you." Hi Dee said he was an angel and the angel said I know.
Hi Dee said she needed to get back to her Grandfather's house. "Let's go." said Santa, "Its on our way." But that was when the Latin Queens street gang and dance group stopped them. Their names were Dashboard, Blogger, Danny Boy and Prancer Dancer. Hey, they said, we got a SUV that seats eight, hop in. So they did and it turns out the SUV had GPS so they found the Temple of Doom in no time flat. Dashboard, Blogger and Danny Boy stayed behind to fix the flat.
There was a scarecrow guarding the front door. He told them to watch out for the wicked witch of the Zest who lived in the Temple.
"She has got my friend Dorothy in there - held prisoner in the ruby slippers of doom. You must promise to save her."
So they did and the scarecrow let them in and gave them a dog to show them the way. The dog's name was SoSo but for some strange reason he only answered to ToTo. Toto (sosso) led them through a maze of stores, a place called MAZE Cs. There were clothes stores like ambercrombie and witch, toy stores such as Brats R Us and even a strange store where everything was made of wood (Hickory Forms). They were worn out when they spotted the food court and sat down and got some coffee at Caribou and doughnuts at Donner's Party (a pastry place).
And that was when they ran into Bebe Jesus (pronounced BAYBAY Hey Zeus), who told them that it was his birthday tomorrow and he was having a party and that he had a gift for everybody. If they were Catho Licks they had to go en masse first, before the party.
Santa thought that was a good idea so he decided to get gifts for everybody, too. So he made a list, checked it twice and then he ran into Victoria who had the secret of what to get the naughty people. Luckily for Santa the shopping mall stayed open late and had things like gift certificates and exchange policies. Santa even found something for Attila at Conan's Discount Barbarian store.
But he had to figure out how to get the presents to everyone. So he went to the cell phone kiosk, got himself an iPhone and checked out the home site for PARENTS (national organization of people who have kids) - Parents agreed to help Santa if he would allow them to come with their kids to the mall and have their pictures taken with him.
But the parents took along time to come and Santa got fat from eating doughnuts and old from having to wait a long time and he grew a long beard because the mall would not let him shave.
But he was always happy to see the children because he knew that after they came he could go home. When he got home, he found the bank had foreclosed on him so he had to move to a place where the property values were low. And that place was the north pole.
Dancer Prancer and Frosty got married and moved in with Santa. They had eight kids who won the America's got Talent contest - their act was called the Rain Dears. They were illusionists and their big illusion (with which they closed every show in Vegas with) was pretending that they were making a sleigh fly through the air over the audience. Packages would fall out of the sleigh onto the laps of every kid in the audience. . .
It was at this point, that we were interrupted by our parents who told us it was time to eat dinner. I never did hear the end of the story.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Some Stuff you might not know
The figure on the left is NOT Santa Claus. He is Father Frost, the Russian version of Santa Claus. The little girl with him is his adopted daughter, the snow maiden. I wonder what we the people of the USA would think of Santa having an adopted daughter.I have to keep this post short - something about a crisis in the house and me having to go to the dollar store to get presents or Walgreens or someplace that is open (Kmart?).
A month ago, I thought I would have my Xmas novel done but depression and the weather have forced me to change my outlook. A new years novel might be happening but I doubt it, not even an Epiphany novel looks realistic - maybe a Super Bowl one ? Or MLK day one.
So bye for now - have a happy and safe Christmas (even if you don't believe in Santa),
Frank
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Its a Miracle
Yes, that is right - I have done the necessary steps and I am ready for my initiation into the Reverend-hood. the powers (or lack thereof) shall be bestowed upon me. The skies will open up and I will have greater access to . . . Okay I am getting carried away. But since I will become a reverend I expect some tithing to come my way. All you guys reading this need to give me a tenth of your normal weekly donation to online ministers - so I can keep myself going. But since you don't have to do that until tomorrow I guess you can have this post for free. I think I could go live with a pod cast but that might scare too many people away.
I guess I will have to make some miracles happen for you to believe in me. So here is a list of miracles I will perform:
1) the next governor of Illinois will not go to jail or be taken into custody - I know that is a big one but I have to start somewhere.
2) the Bears will make the playoffs - I mean the Chicago Bears and I mean this year or whenever they start- I have already helped the white sox make the playoffs (did you think they did that on their own)
3) the current president will retire and not be heard from until another Bush is elected president.
(Okay that is not a hard one)
4) American Idol will be interesting this year (another tough one)
5) the Cubs will get sold
6) Most of the current snow will melt this year - I would say all but some joker would save some in his freezer to prove me wrong.
7) Angelina Jolie will not have a child in 2009 - at least not birth another child
8) Jennifer Aniston will pose for some magazine cover
9) I will complete my novel by Jan16 th.
10) Soulsearcher will post on her blog for a week straight (toughest one yet - I don't know if I have enough power to make this happen)
11) Moderate Republicans will make a come back (another tough one )
12) Jesus's image on a potato chip will not sell for more than one dollar on Ebay
13) this post will make sense to someone (really tough one)
14) Someone will tithe me (really big miracle)
15) Burger King will make a commercial that isn't creepy or stupid or both (very tough one)
16) a movie will come out that I go see first run
17) there will be a month next year in which there will be no natural disaters (and Fox News and CNN will run out of material)
18) Some preacher admits this is not the 'End of Days'
And finally the biggest one yet - my library fine will be paid by someone other than me
If any of these miracles happen (and they will ), you are not obliged to change religions, just know that I am out there for you and I can make miracles happen (and for a large fee paid in advance, I will make one happen for you). With the exception of getting your book published.
Let me know what your miracle is.
Frank
Monday, December 22, 2008
Nothing Doing
Normally, I do not take cartoons off the internet to use in my blog but this one shows the mood I am in right now. (and it is in color) So buy this guy's cartoons (so I can ease my conscience of its guilt).
I have a couple of hours to write today and I thought I would get back to my novel (at this point it looks like a novella) so naturally I decided to write on my blog instead.
I have been a bit (only a bit ?) on the multiple personality side, these days moving back and forth from this positive, jokey blog which everyone (in my mind) likes to my serious spiritual blog which next to no one reads (thank God). But I have not been getting much writing done - I have my ideas all in a row and ready to go but it is at this point that any and everything in life seems interesting, exciting, and hey you know what I think I will make myself a sausage McMuffin. . . .Yum that was good. Now on to some writing - that is after I finish up writing this little ditty. I have already finished the suduku so it is either watch Jerry Springer or do some novel writing. Hmm I wonder what to do.
Oh well, until next time - call me stuck at 15000 and holding.
Frank
Sunday, December 21, 2008
News Frost from Hell
I must be in Hell. And due to all the strange goings on as of late, what with Lin and Soulsearcher and the American voting public (to name a few) doing unbelievable things it is very cold here (-30 degrees wind chill - which is nothing if you are like Sarah Palin and live in Alaska) but for me it is very cold. It has taken me forever to type this due to :
1) chipping the ice off of the computer keyboard.
2) typing with ski gloves on - thank goodness for spell corrector software on Blogger
I thought this was as cold as I have been for quite a while in december but the TV weather guy says no it was this cold in 1989. I don't remember - I guess I block those memories out.
I recieved this email picture from a friend.
Luckily, in this age of GPS, I do not think Santa needs Rudolph to guide his sliegh. At least I hope so because I think I need that coal to keep warm this year.Hope you are survivng (unless you are like the president-elect and are in Hawaii now - then I wish I was with you),
SO stop doing extra-ordinary things because I need Hell to get back to normal.
Frank
Saturday, December 20, 2008
All the Good Ones Are Taken
In the past week, I have created 3 new blogs - 2 are private affairs, members only (sad to say) - and one is for My writing class at the Center (Great place the Center - check it out some time).
In the course of making a new blog, you are asked to name your blog, then check to see if the name is available.
Yes, all the good ones are taken. For instance: my Write place - gone, my write space - gone, Write space - gone, Write place - gone. I almost fell over backward when I found that Our Write Place was available.
Today, I started wondering what certain blogs might look like - you know the ones with the good names that are taken. So I peeked at a few and this is what I found:
(I am leaving out the http:// in the URL)
Jesus.blogspot.com - abandoned since 2000 (not a religious site)
Tao.blogspot.com - abandoned since 2000 (not much of anything there - I guess it is the blank slate)
love.blogspot.com - abandoned since 2000 after ONE post - I guess she was too heartbroken to continue
peace.blogspot.com - abandoned since 2000 (not much there - one post I think)
Happiness.blogspot.com - abandoned since mar 2001 (nothing there but hundreds of people have stopped to look at the profile)
Candy.blogspot.com - a single entry (abandoned since 2000)
Anyway, let me know if you find anything interesting out there - I am going to try Bush, Obama, and Hillary next.
Frank
In the course of making a new blog, you are asked to name your blog, then check to see if the name is available.
Yes, all the good ones are taken. For instance: my Write place - gone, my write space - gone, Write space - gone, Write place - gone. I almost fell over backward when I found that Our Write Place was available.
Today, I started wondering what certain blogs might look like - you know the ones with the good names that are taken. So I peeked at a few and this is what I found:
(I am leaving out the http:// in the URL)
Jesus.blogspot.com - abandoned since 2000 (not a religious site)
Tao.blogspot.com - abandoned since 2000 (not much of anything there - I guess it is the blank slate)
love.blogspot.com - abandoned since 2000 after ONE post - I guess she was too heartbroken to continue
peace.blogspot.com - abandoned since 2000 (not much there - one post I think)
Happiness.blogspot.com - abandoned since mar 2001 (nothing there but hundreds of people have stopped to look at the profile)
Candy.blogspot.com - a single entry (abandoned since 2000)
Anyway, let me know if you find anything interesting out there - I am going to try Bush, Obama, and Hillary next.
Frank
P.S. Frank.blogspot.com is in Norwegian and has not been used since 2001 (The content of which is 2 posts of - this is a test = English translation)
P.P.S. - Barak is unused since 2004, Hillary is unused since 2001, Bush was the most entertaining in a college dorm way.
P.P.S. - Barak is unused since 2004, Hillary is unused since 2001, Bush was the most entertaining in a college dorm way.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Some cats don't listen
Franklin emailed this picture of him working at his job (editor & proofreader for tiny California press).
This picture was 7M bytes.
Franklin, love ya, but not everyone has unlimited space in their email.
Breaking news - Hell is freezing again - Soulsearcher has posted on her blog !
I have decided to restart the process of writing my Christmas novel - last night, I wrote 300 words - Yah!! Hell will be frozen over if I get it done on time. Perhaps this is what Franklin is bugging me about - my christmas deadline. Today I decided to go out for a drive - car was inside of a block of ice. I felt like an ice sculptor. Chipping away. I decided to make some Christmas presents this year because I thought it would be more heartfelt but I am not sure if I am going to get them done in time - and no I am not giving copies of my stories out as presents (unless Santa tells me you have been bad). I think I should put up the art (short for artifical) tree soon. Trouble is I have to go to the storage room to get it - if you have ever heard of Fibber Magee's closet then you know what my storage room is like - ready to explode once the door is opened.
I do not remember how I got the tree back in there last year. Oh well, that is all for now.
Frank
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Some Random Thoughts
Todays Mood is Comfortable in my own shoes.(Yes, I am using an idea by Cardiogirl.)
Franklin (my sister-in-law's owner) sent his picture via email this morning with the message:
Get out of bed, you lazy human.
I don't mind the early (5:45 cst) message, I don't mind the cat-call, but I do mind the 6.2 M byte picture. Stop sending me pictures that take 10 minutes to come in, Franklin. I do love the pensive pose, though.
The above shoe came from the Sketcher.com website. I am more of a sketcher guy than a Chuck Taylor converse guy.
I am glad to see SoulSearcher back to making comments but I am sad to know that she had to say goodbye to her baby girl. I hope you can swing a surprise visit to Calif, SoulSearcher. I hope you had some great times and got some good memories to keep you going. I hope you don't mind me using your web name instead of your real name.
Marlotus took me to a want-to-be art gallery yesterday. They advised her to make limited edition prints so as to make them (the prints) more valuable. I was thinking that I could do the same with my stories. I will print only 1000 copies of my tea story and you the general public will want to buy this (so you can resell it on E-bay later.) I am open to starting bids of a dollar (with increments of ten cents). Better get in on the ground floor - Buy now.
I think that I have finally figured out how to get the writing class to post their work - do it for them. In that vein, I created a new blog (Our Write Place) which can be accessed via want-to-be-writer. All anyone has to do is give me their story, poem and/or critique on bad writing teachers, . . .etc. Is this asking too much ? We shall see. In the meantime, I will post old work that people have given me in hopes that I would make a little book (ala the poetry class - which I never did because it was too much work trying to get enough material.)
The other day Lin wrote about Jon Katz which made me curious as to what is going on with him. Despite getting 10 to 20 emails from his blog per day, I am in the dark (mostly because I do not read the 10 to 20 emails). So I decided to look at his website and see what all the hubbub was about. This is what I came away with:
1) JK is downsizing his farm - getting rid of some animals (which most people were okay with until he had his cows slaughtered ).
2) Some people agree with his decisions, many do not.
I do not pretend to know what is going through his mind but I do not think it was an easy decision for him to make - I think that he loved those cows (maybe he did not). I think that people have a right to voice their outrage in any form they want (so long as it does not harm anyone of course). As a public figure, Mr. Katz should know that anytime you change the percieved product people will be upset. (I was upset when the band Genesis changed singers - I never bought another CD with the new singer (some guy named Phil Collins)).
I think that anyone who eats hamburgers cannot be upset with cows getting slaughtered (where do you think the meat comes from ?) I think that it was rude of Mr. Katz to tell everyone what he was doing - Ignorance is bliss. I think that it was rude of Mr. Katz to expect that people would support his decision blindly. I think it was brave of Lin to express her outrage on her blog. Kudos to you Lin. And finally, I think this is the last I will ever say on the subject - I was surprised to hear Lin say anything bad about Jon Katz - I thought hell had truly frozen over.
I want to wish everyone a happy holiday season full of joy,
Frank
Monday, December 15, 2008
I have decided to make this ....
I decided to make this blog, my musings blog where I am not as serious as I am on My Spirit Journeys. So to start with - I am going to put a post on how I have changed this blog and what it will look like. I have changed the face plate and I think that things look good there. I am going to archive all the old posts but I think I need to spruce up the right side of the page. I am not sure how. I could do a lengthy about me thing but I consider myself boring and yet I do have an active imagination so I think I will give it a try.
I also think that I will make the title different - right now 'frankspeak' sounds like something out of '1984' (the novel by George Orwell). I will change it to Positively Frank. I will keep the old site name in case someone has a link to it.
I think I will put in some positive pictures too.
SO that is it for now.
Frank
I also think that I will make the title different - right now 'frankspeak' sounds like something out of '1984' (the novel by George Orwell). I will change it to Positively Frank. I will keep the old site name in case someone has a link to it.
I think I will put in some positive pictures too.
SO that is it for now.
Frank
Sunday, December 7, 2008
How to get rid of राईटर's Block
I don't know what to write I thought I would try writing something different:
थे जोय ऑफ़ बीइंग
Somehow I have discovered how to write in Hindi which will allow me to say stuff and not be second guessed by anyone other than those of you who speak hindi and know what it looks like. I think that I have become too self-conscious lately and I have not been able to write because of that but now I feel that I am getting my writing muscles going so I guess that this ploy worked.
I don't know really why I got stuck just that I stopped writng and then I started to second guess myself. Then hours of not writing became days of not writing and then I found myself watching television (gasp). I was at that point that I realized how low I had sunk.
However, all was not lost. I was writing my blog and I was creating a new persona on the internet (something truer to who I really am). It was just that I had hit the wall on my novel and I was stuck at 15,000 words. My great goal now for today is to write up to 20k (today ?) and then I will feel better about life. Right now I doubt that all that is true but I have hope. We will see what comes out of this.
I thank கோட் தட் கேன் ட்ரை.
I hope that I am making sense to you.
Having Writer's block is no joke, but to get rid of it write either nonsense or in a language you don't understand.
Bye for now and
गुड लुक्क,
Frank
थे जोय ऑफ़ बीइंग
Somehow I have discovered how to write in Hindi which will allow me to say stuff and not be second guessed by anyone other than those of you who speak hindi and know what it looks like. I think that I have become too self-conscious lately and I have not been able to write because of that but now I feel that I am getting my writing muscles going so I guess that this ploy worked.
I don't know really why I got stuck just that I stopped writng and then I started to second guess myself. Then hours of not writing became days of not writing and then I found myself watching television (gasp). I was at that point that I realized how low I had sunk.
However, all was not lost. I was writing my blog and I was creating a new persona on the internet (something truer to who I really am). It was just that I had hit the wall on my novel and I was stuck at 15,000 words. My great goal now for today is to write up to 20k (today ?) and then I will feel better about life. Right now I doubt that all that is true but I have hope. We will see what comes out of this.
I thank கோட் தட் கேன் ட்ரை.
I hope that I am making sense to you.
Having Writer's block is no joke, but to get rid of it write either nonsense or in a language you don't understand.
Bye for now and
गुड लुक्क,
Frank
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
an email I recieved from a world famous author
Dear Frank,
You're a fool. You know that, don't you? Because only a fool would try a stunt as crazy as this. You want to write a 50,000 word novel in one month?! Do you have sawdust in your skull? When there are so many other more useful things you could be doing, like cleaning up the house and yard, taking a correspondence course in Chinese, or contributing your time and effort to a charitable cause? Whatever is possessing you?
Consider the first card of the Tarot deck, titled The Fool. There's this young man traipsing along with a small dog at his heel, toting a bag of his worldly goods on the end of his wooden staff, carrying a flower in his other hand, gazing raptly at the sky—and about to step off a cliff, because he isn't watching his feet. A fool indeed. Does this feel familiar? It should. You're doing much the same thing. What made you ever think you could bat out a bad book like that, let alone write anything readable?
So are you going to give up this folly and focus on reality before you step off the cliff? No? Are you sure? Even though you know you are about to confirm the suspicion of your dubious relatives, several acquaintances, and fewer friends that you never are going to amount to anything more than a dank hill of beans? That you're too damned oink-headed to rise to the level of the very lowest rung of common sense?
Sigh. You're a lost soul. So there's no help for it but to join the lowly company of the other aspect of The Fool. Because the fact is, that Fool is a Dreamer, and it is Dreamers who ultimately make life worthwhile for the unimaginative rest of us. Dreamers consider the wider universe. Dreamers build cathedrals, shape fine sculptures, and yes, generate literature. Dreamers are the artists who provide our rapacious species with some faint evidence of nobility.
So maybe you won't be a successful novelist, or even a good one. At least you are trying. T hat, would you believe, puts you in a rarefied one percent of our kind. Maybe less than that. You aspire to something better than the normal rat race. You may not accomplish much, but it's the attitude that counts. As with mutations: 99% of them are bad and don't survive, but the 1% that are better are responsible for the evolution of species to a more fit state. You know the odds are against you, but who knows? If you don't try, you'll never be sure whether you might, just maybe, possibly, have done it. So you do have to make the effort, or be forever condemned in your own bleary eyes.
Actually, 50,000 words isn't hard. You can write “Damn!” 50,000 times. Oh, you want a readable story! That will be more of a challenge. But you know, it can be done. In my heyday, before my wife's health declined and I took over meals and chores, I routinely wrote 3,000 words a day, taking two days a week off to answer fan mail, and 60,000 words a month was par. Now I try for 1,500 and hope for 2,000. That will do it. If you write that much each day, minimum, and go over some days, you will have your quota in the month. On the 10th of the month of August, 2008, I started writing my Xanth novel Knot Gneiss, about the challenge of a boulder that turns out to be not stone but a huge petrified knot of reverse wood that terrifies anyone who approaches it. Petrified = terrified, get it? And by the 30th I had 35,000 words. That's the same pace. If I can do it in my doddering old age—I'm 74—you can do it in your relative youth.
Of course you need ideas. You can garner them from anywhere. I noticed that our daily newspaper comes in a plastic bag that is knotted. The knot's too tight to undo without a lot of effort, so I just rip it open to get at the goodies inside. It's a nuisance; I wish they'd leave it loose. But I thought, maybe there's this cute delivery girl who has a crush on me, and she ties a love -knot to let me know. Not that at my age I'd know what to do with a real live girl, but it's still a fun fantasy. Okay, there's an idea. I could use it in my fiction. Maybe even in a Pep Talk. The mundane world has provided me with an opening. It will do the same for you, if you're alert.
Here's a secret: fictive text doesn't necessary flow easily. Most of the time it's more like cutting a highway through a mountain. You just have to keep working with your pick, chipping away at the rock, making slow progress. It may not be pretty at first. Prettiness doesn't come until later, at the polishing stage, which is outside your month. You just have to get it done by brute force if necessary. So maybe your ongoing story isn't very original. That's okay, for this. Just get it done. Originality can be more in the eye of the reader than in any objective assessment.
You can make it from a standing start, even from a foolish daydream when you should have been paying attention to the Pep Talk. You will want to try for a bit more quality, of course, and maybe a spot of realism. Garner an Idea, assemble some Characters, find a suitable place to start, and turn them loose in your imagination. Now go home and start your engines!
Piers
PIers Anthony is the author of the Xanth series. You can learn more about him and his work by visiting his website.
You're a fool. You know that, don't you? Because only a fool would try a stunt as crazy as this. You want to write a 50,000 word novel in one month?! Do you have sawdust in your skull? When there are so many other more useful things you could be doing, like cleaning up the house and yard, taking a correspondence course in Chinese, or contributing your time and effort to a charitable cause? Whatever is possessing you?
Consider the first card of the Tarot deck, titled The Fool. There's this young man traipsing along with a small dog at his heel, toting a bag of his worldly goods on the end of his wooden staff, carrying a flower in his other hand, gazing raptly at the sky—and about to step off a cliff, because he isn't watching his feet. A fool indeed. Does this feel familiar? It should. You're doing much the same thing. What made you ever think you could bat out a bad book like that, let alone write anything readable?
So are you going to give up this folly and focus on reality before you step off the cliff? No? Are you sure? Even though you know you are about to confirm the suspicion of your dubious relatives, several acquaintances, and fewer friends that you never are going to amount to anything more than a dank hill of beans? That you're too damned oink-headed to rise to the level of the very lowest rung of common sense?
Sigh. You're a lost soul. So there's no help for it but to join the lowly company of the other aspect of The Fool. Because the fact is, that Fool is a Dreamer, and it is Dreamers who ultimately make life worthwhile for the unimaginative rest of us. Dreamers consider the wider universe. Dreamers build cathedrals, shape fine sculptures, and yes, generate literature. Dreamers are the artists who provide our rapacious species with some faint evidence of nobility.
So maybe you won't be a successful novelist, or even a good one. At least you are trying. T hat, would you believe, puts you in a rarefied one percent of our kind. Maybe less than that. You aspire to something better than the normal rat race. You may not accomplish much, but it's the attitude that counts. As with mutations: 99% of them are bad and don't survive, but the 1% that are better are responsible for the evolution of species to a more fit state. You know the odds are against you, but who knows? If you don't try, you'll never be sure whether you might, just maybe, possibly, have done it. So you do have to make the effort, or be forever condemned in your own bleary eyes.
Actually, 50,000 words isn't hard. You can write “Damn!” 50,000 times. Oh, you want a readable story! That will be more of a challenge. But you know, it can be done. In my heyday, before my wife's health declined and I took over meals and chores, I routinely wrote 3,000 words a day, taking two days a week off to answer fan mail, and 60,000 words a month was par. Now I try for 1,500 and hope for 2,000. That will do it. If you write that much each day, minimum, and go over some days, you will have your quota in the month. On the 10th of the month of August, 2008, I started writing my Xanth novel Knot Gneiss, about the challenge of a boulder that turns out to be not stone but a huge petrified knot of reverse wood that terrifies anyone who approaches it. Petrified = terrified, get it? And by the 30th I had 35,000 words. That's the same pace. If I can do it in my doddering old age—I'm 74—you can do it in your relative youth.
Of course you need ideas. You can garner them from anywhere. I noticed that our daily newspaper comes in a plastic bag that is knotted. The knot's too tight to undo without a lot of effort, so I just rip it open to get at the goodies inside. It's a nuisance; I wish they'd leave it loose. But I thought, maybe there's this cute delivery girl who has a crush on me, and she ties a love -knot to let me know. Not that at my age I'd know what to do with a real live girl, but it's still a fun fantasy. Okay, there's an idea. I could use it in my fiction. Maybe even in a Pep Talk. The mundane world has provided me with an opening. It will do the same for you, if you're alert.
Here's a secret: fictive text doesn't necessary flow easily. Most of the time it's more like cutting a highway through a mountain. You just have to keep working with your pick, chipping away at the rock, making slow progress. It may not be pretty at first. Prettiness doesn't come until later, at the polishing stage, which is outside your month. You just have to get it done by brute force if necessary. So maybe your ongoing story isn't very original. That's okay, for this. Just get it done. Originality can be more in the eye of the reader than in any objective assessment.
You can make it from a standing start, even from a foolish daydream when you should have been paying attention to the Pep Talk. You will want to try for a bit more quality, of course, and maybe a spot of realism. Garner an Idea, assemble some Characters, find a suitable place to start, and turn them loose in your imagination. Now go home and start your engines!
Piers
PIers Anthony is the author of the Xanth series. You can learn more about him and his work by visiting his website.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
The first ten things I could think of to be thankful for
These are in order of how they came to me.
1) Thank God, America has voted for a new direction
2) Thank you for falling gas prices (last low price I have seen is 1.69 per gallon)
3) Thank God for Walt's grocery store and their discounted for quick sale stuff
4) Thank God for Connie French for inviting us over for dinner today
5) Thank God for the people who love to write
6) Thank God for Blogger.com providing blogging spots for us cheap people who love to write
7) Thank God for the internet. It was one of the few places where people could speak honestly and where the real truth could come out (not the WordSpeak that TV, radio, newspapers have dumped on us)
8) Thank God Jewel (our first stop) had a stack of today's papers. I did not want to go driving around looking for a newspaper all morning.
9) Thank God for coffee. 'nuff said.
10) Thank God this item list is over.
1) Thank God, America has voted for a new direction
2) Thank you for falling gas prices (last low price I have seen is 1.69 per gallon)
3) Thank God for Walt's grocery store and their discounted for quick sale stuff
4) Thank God for Connie French for inviting us over for dinner today
5) Thank God for the people who love to write
6) Thank God for Blogger.com providing blogging spots for us cheap people who love to write
7) Thank God for the internet. It was one of the few places where people could speak honestly and where the real truth could come out (not the WordSpeak that TV, radio, newspapers have dumped on us)
8) Thank God Jewel (our first stop) had a stack of today's papers. I did not want to go driving around looking for a newspaper all morning.
9) Thank God for coffee. 'nuff said.
10) Thank God this item list is over.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
I found this website amusing
I googled parody and got this website.
Get a first life
The authors assume that anyone taking the time to read that website would be better off doing something else, like having a first life. I had to look at the website twice before I figured that out. Must be Canadian humor.
I think it is run by Canadians.
I find the idea of having a second or third life is much better than just the current first life I am in. The world is full of things built to distract you from your first life (ie, beer, television, iPods,and of course infomercials) Does life get better if you have designer stuff ? Paris Hilton thinks so -( but that is assuming that Paris Hilton thinks). Would I be better off if I lived in Tahiti ? I think so but know I would be bringing all the baggage that is me along so it might not be any better. Where is this essay going - Nowhere - I do not know why you thought it would make sense but perhaps you didn't - in which case you are happy now because NOW you know (by admission from the author) that this makes no sense. And since this piece makes no sense - it reflects how I feel about my first life - so there I guess it does have a point - not a very good one but hey at least I tried. (Isn't that what Hitler said ?)
The older I get, the less enthused I am about trying to change my life - too much work I think - and that is usually enough to keep me from doing whatever it is I thought about doing. When I was young, there was not too much I wanted to keep the same so change was easy. But now, I feel that there just is too much in my life - I don't mind change one thing but the idea of a domino effect is daunting - I think it becomes too much work - so I settle for changing the interior world where change is much less daunting - hard yes - but much less daunting.
So call me -
Daunte ( in ferno)
Frank
Get a first life
The authors assume that anyone taking the time to read that website would be better off doing something else, like having a first life. I had to look at the website twice before I figured that out. Must be Canadian humor.
I think it is run by Canadians.
I find the idea of having a second or third life is much better than just the current first life I am in. The world is full of things built to distract you from your first life (ie, beer, television, iPods,and of course infomercials) Does life get better if you have designer stuff ? Paris Hilton thinks so -( but that is assuming that Paris Hilton thinks). Would I be better off if I lived in Tahiti ? I think so but know I would be bringing all the baggage that is me along so it might not be any better. Where is this essay going - Nowhere - I do not know why you thought it would make sense but perhaps you didn't - in which case you are happy now because NOW you know (by admission from the author) that this makes no sense. And since this piece makes no sense - it reflects how I feel about my first life - so there I guess it does have a point - not a very good one but hey at least I tried. (Isn't that what Hitler said ?)
The older I get, the less enthused I am about trying to change my life - too much work I think - and that is usually enough to keep me from doing whatever it is I thought about doing. When I was young, there was not too much I wanted to keep the same so change was easy. But now, I feel that there just is too much in my life - I don't mind change one thing but the idea of a domino effect is daunting - I think it becomes too much work - so I settle for changing the interior world where change is much less daunting - hard yes - but much less daunting.
So call me -
Daunte ( in ferno)
Frank
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Election Results from Bumville
In one of the most uncontested contests of election night, a stunning victory was declared last night for the dark horse candidate. The contest was of course for the mayor of Bumville, a position that up until this year nobody wanted. With the rumors swirling about that Bumville would get an Indian casino, two candidates for mayor appeared from nowhere:
Mr. Smith representing the Blue party and
Mr. Jones representing the Red party.
After a long and arduous campaign, in which both candidates were revealed to have been in bed with BIg Oyle, the election finally produced a winner:
Barracks O'Bummer who as previously mentioned was the dark horse candidate simply because he owned a dark horse (actually an unwashed Irish wolfhound). Mr. O'Bummer was sleeping in his home (the abandoned barracks of the abandoned Nike missile site for which Mr. O'Bummer was named or nicknamed as the case might be) which was also Bumville's only polling place, when he awoke from a drunken stupor, got up and went to the bathroom, flushed the toilet, and went back to bed.
BUT in actuality, Mr. O'Bummer cast the only vote in the mayoral election and thus became Bumville's newest mayor. In retospect, Mr. O'Bummer thought it was odd that someone gave him reading material as he was entering the bathroom but the quiz on it was something he could do as it featured only one question - choose the new mayor. Mr. O'Bummer stated afterward that he thought it was a contest application and thus filled in his name in the space provided. He finished his business and gave the paper back to the person who had given it to him. Afterwards poll workers noticed that booth number one had a very unpleasant smell to it and as this was the only voting booth in Bumville, someone would have to clean the booth before voting could continue. And since no one wanted to, the election was ended there and Mr. O'Bummer was declared the winner.
In a side note: Mr. O'Bummer's dog (whom he calls his running mate because he is Australian and that means the dog is his buddy whom he runs with) is named Hillary.
Reporting from Bumville - this is CNN (the Cynical News Network)
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Sheila and the Shaman
Sheila had spent years with hermit-like tribesman of this remote south sea island, and thus was treated as if she belonged. She had washed up on the island after her boat sank, and being an easy going, loving, kind person by nature she had no trouble making the tribesmen her friends.
One day, she got sick and was the custom, her friends took her to see the shaman. He cured her in no time fast and as was her nature, she first became friends with the shaman and then his apprentice.
He had a large assortment of medicines some of which he made from the remains of the dead that washed up on the island. For some reason, a lot of boats and planes crashed nearby the island and there almost never any survivors. Sheila had been the only one to survive in the last ten years. She was considered a good luck gift from the gods. Tribesmen believed if they touched her once a day things would be good and if she touched them things would be great that day.
One day, the shaman told Sheila she could have any one medicine or potion that he had made for free. Normally, the shaman would charge for his potions in jingos depending on how hard it was to make.
A jingo was the local currency and was roughly 'one favor.'
Sheila asked the shaman what was the most expensive potion he had.
“This,” he said thrusting a small vial in her hands. “It is made from the remains of American Cruise Ship passengers. They were what you say 'Republican Conservatives' . It is a heart potion. It opens your heart and you feel the love of the universe. You feel compassion and love for everyone. I charge 1000 jingos for it.”
“Wow,” said Sheila, “is it very strong ?”
“No,” said the shaman, “it is very weak, in fact it is the weakest heart potion I have.”
“Then why is it the most expensive.”
“Because of the work I have to do to find the essence of love and compassion in these people.”
The end – feel free to substitute 'Republican Conservatives' for any other group you might want to slander
One day, she got sick and was the custom, her friends took her to see the shaman. He cured her in no time fast and as was her nature, she first became friends with the shaman and then his apprentice.
He had a large assortment of medicines some of which he made from the remains of the dead that washed up on the island. For some reason, a lot of boats and planes crashed nearby the island and there almost never any survivors. Sheila had been the only one to survive in the last ten years. She was considered a good luck gift from the gods. Tribesmen believed if they touched her once a day things would be good and if she touched them things would be great that day.
One day, the shaman told Sheila she could have any one medicine or potion that he had made for free. Normally, the shaman would charge for his potions in jingos depending on how hard it was to make.
A jingo was the local currency and was roughly 'one favor.'
Sheila asked the shaman what was the most expensive potion he had.
“This,” he said thrusting a small vial in her hands. “It is made from the remains of American Cruise Ship passengers. They were what you say 'Republican Conservatives' . It is a heart potion. It opens your heart and you feel the love of the universe. You feel compassion and love for everyone. I charge 1000 jingos for it.”
“Wow,” said Sheila, “is it very strong ?”
“No,” said the shaman, “it is very weak, in fact it is the weakest heart potion I have.”
“Then why is it the most expensive.”
“Because of the work I have to do to find the essence of love and compassion in these people.”
The end – feel free to substitute 'Republican Conservatives' for any other group you might want to slander
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