themechanic
Oklahoma is OK
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Watch the movie RED: Retired, Extremely Dangerous for a pick-me-up.
For those of us facing the abyss...
- Thread starter Snook
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themechanic
Oklahoma is OK
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My condolences.
A complicated guy for sure and his sister
Too bad about the nihilism, but his critique of liberalism makes him worth reading so claims this article:
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2...ional-institutions-friedrich-nietzsche-review
Sorry to hear about your bro...
joe smith
Well-Known Member
Marine, black belt Karate, his wikipedia page is a long as any famous person..
SteveSS
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I heard William Smith could speak and write five different languages proficiently. He certainly sounded Russian in Red Dawn. He was working on a Ph.D. in agriculture on something similar.
SteveSS
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Hell, I'm not worried. All the men in my family die at 85. It is just the way it works. I have insomnia, I'm looking forward to getting some sleep. My mom is approaching 92 and she says she is ready.
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A subject I (regrettably) know too much about already. Eh, sh__ happens.
3x dead, 6x cancer, most of my family gone... yeah, I know death real well.
Didn't even get a tee shirt.
"Do not go gentle into that good night..."
Yeah, I can go with that. In fact, about 180 degrees from anything "gentle".
Even when they're telling you you're done - fluck 'em, give it HELL.
Lookit, I ain't nobody special. Not pretty, not the smartest, most talented,
can't sing or dance (well), charming - I ain't none of that.
I serve no particularly special purpose for the good of mankind, I know all that...
Turns out though what I do have though - in spades - is WILL.
I just get up. Every. Damn. Time.
I highly recommend it.
3x dead, 6x cancer, most of my family gone... yeah, I know death real well.
Didn't even get a tee shirt.
"Do not go gentle into that good night..."
Yeah, I can go with that. In fact, about 180 degrees from anything "gentle".
Even when they're telling you you're done - fluck 'em, give it HELL.
Lookit, I ain't nobody special. Not pretty, not the smartest, most talented,
can't sing or dance (well), charming - I ain't none of that.
I serve no particularly special purpose for the good of mankind, I know all that...
Turns out though what I do have though - in spades - is WILL.
I just get up. Every. Damn. Time.
I highly recommend it.
joe smith
Well-Known Member
The mind goes " 2nd " ..... LOL
The Box by Lascelles Abercrombie
Once upon a time, in the land of Hush-A-Bye,
Around about the wondrous days of yore,
They came across a kind of box
Bound up with chains and locked with locks
And labeled "Kindly do not touch; it's war."
A decree was issued round about, and all with a flourish and a shout
And a gaily colored mascot tripping lightly on before.
Don't fiddle with this deadly box, or break the chains, or pick the locks.
And please don't ever play about with war.
The children understood. Children happen to be good
And they were just as good around the time of yore.
They didn't try to pick the locks or break into that deadly box.
They never tried to play about with war.
Mommies didn't either; sisters, aunts, grannies neither
'Cause they were quiet, and sweet, and pretty
In those wondrous days of yore.
Well, very much the same as now,
And not the ones to blame somehow
For opening up that deadly box of war.
But someone did. Someone battered in the lid
And spilled the insides out across the floor.
A kind of bouncy, bumpy ball made up of guns and flags
And all the tears, and horror, and death that comes with war.
It bounced right out and went bashing all about,
Bumping into everything in store. And what was sad and most unfair
Was that it didn't really seem to care
Much who it bumped, or why, or what, or for.
It bumped the children mainly. And I'll tell you this quite plainly,
It bumps them every day and more, and more,
And leaves them dead, and burned, and dying
Thousands of them sick and crying.
'Cause when it bumps, it's really very sore.
Now there's a way to stop the ball. It isn't difficult at all.
All it takes is wisdom, and I'm absolutely sure
That we can get it back into the box ,and bind the chains, and lock the locks.
But no one seems to want to save the children anymore.
Well, that's the way it all appears, 'cause it's been bouncing round
for years and years
In spite of all the wisdom wizzed since those wondrous days of yore
And the time they came across the box,
Bound up with chains and locked with locks,
And labeled "Kindly do not touch; it's war."
Once upon a time, in the land of Hush-A-Bye,
Around about the wondrous days of yore,
They came across a kind of box
Bound up with chains and locked with locks
And labeled "Kindly do not touch; it's war."
A decree was issued round about, and all with a flourish and a shout
And a gaily colored mascot tripping lightly on before.
Don't fiddle with this deadly box, or break the chains, or pick the locks.
And please don't ever play about with war.
The children understood. Children happen to be good
And they were just as good around the time of yore.
They didn't try to pick the locks or break into that deadly box.
They never tried to play about with war.
Mommies didn't either; sisters, aunts, grannies neither
'Cause they were quiet, and sweet, and pretty
In those wondrous days of yore.
Well, very much the same as now,
And not the ones to blame somehow
For opening up that deadly box of war.
But someone did. Someone battered in the lid
And spilled the insides out across the floor.
A kind of bouncy, bumpy ball made up of guns and flags
And all the tears, and horror, and death that comes with war.
It bounced right out and went bashing all about,
Bumping into everything in store. And what was sad and most unfair
Was that it didn't really seem to care
Much who it bumped, or why, or what, or for.
It bumped the children mainly. And I'll tell you this quite plainly,
It bumps them every day and more, and more,
And leaves them dead, and burned, and dying
Thousands of them sick and crying.
'Cause when it bumps, it's really very sore.
Now there's a way to stop the ball. It isn't difficult at all.
All it takes is wisdom, and I'm absolutely sure
That we can get it back into the box ,and bind the chains, and lock the locks.
But no one seems to want to save the children anymore.
Well, that's the way it all appears, 'cause it's been bouncing round
for years and years
In spite of all the wisdom wizzed since those wondrous days of yore
And the time they came across the box,
Bound up with chains and locked with locks,
And labeled "Kindly do not touch; it's war."
furyus
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My death is like
A swinging door
A patient girl who knows the score
Whistle for her
And the passing time
My death waits like
A bible truth
At the funeral of my youth
Weep loud for that
And the passing time
My death waits like
A witch at night
And surely as our love is bright
Let's laugh for us
And the passing time
But whatever is behind the door
There is nothing much to do
Angel or devil I don't care
For in front of that door
There is you
My death waits like
A beggar blind
Who sees the world with an unlit mind
Throw him a dime
For the passing time
My death waits
To allow my friends
A few good times before it ends
Let's drink to that
And the passing time
My death waits in
Your arms, your thighs
Your cool fingers will close my eyes
Let's not talk about
The passing time
But whatever is behind the door
There is nothing much to do
Angel or devil I don't care
For in front of that door
There is you
My death waits
Among the falling leaves
In magicians, mysterious sleeves
Rabbits, dogs
And the passing times
My death waits
Among the flowers
Where the blackish shadow cowers
Let's pick lilacs
For the passing time
My death waits in
A double bed
Sails of oblivion at my head
Pull up the sheets
Against the passing time
But whatever is behind the door
There is nothing much to do
Angel or devil I don't care
For in front of that door
There is you
A swinging door
A patient girl who knows the score
Whistle for her
And the passing time
My death waits like
A bible truth
At the funeral of my youth
Weep loud for that
And the passing time
My death waits like
A witch at night
And surely as our love is bright
Let's laugh for us
And the passing time
But whatever is behind the door
There is nothing much to do
Angel or devil I don't care
For in front of that door
There is you
My death waits like
A beggar blind
Who sees the world with an unlit mind
Throw him a dime
For the passing time
My death waits
To allow my friends
A few good times before it ends
Let's drink to that
And the passing time
My death waits in
Your arms, your thighs
Your cool fingers will close my eyes
Let's not talk about
The passing time
But whatever is behind the door
There is nothing much to do
Angel or devil I don't care
For in front of that door
There is you
My death waits
Among the falling leaves
In magicians, mysterious sleeves
Rabbits, dogs
And the passing times
My death waits
Among the flowers
Where the blackish shadow cowers
Let's pick lilacs
For the passing time
My death waits in
A double bed
Sails of oblivion at my head
Pull up the sheets
Against the passing time
But whatever is behind the door
There is nothing much to do
Angel or devil I don't care
For in front of that door
There is you
Last edited:
joe smith
Well-Known Member
What a joke,,, I see more healthy active people die than fat lazy ones...
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