:: In other words, there are bizarro ideas on both sides of the fence. No argument there. And yet, there are differences. Here's my list: (Click through to read one of the best posts I've seen yet regarding the whole "Hey, you liberals have crazies on your side too!" argument.)
:: Everyone on the street feared her and did what they could to avoid her. I didn't like her one bit. But nobody deserves what happened to her. Nobody. (How should one feel when someone one knew personally, and deeply loathed for good reasons, passes away after a debilitating disease?)
:: He doesn't yet understand what an arsehole is!
:: This fella isn't getting any younger. I'd like to see it before it's gone.
:: Spock says its interior is impervious to scans and that it was built by a civilization with technology superior to that of the Federation, which would seem to be anyone capable of making an iPhone. (Ah yes, the "Kirk as a Native American" episode...which I remember as being a bit better than its reputation over the years.)
:: It’s hard to express the depth and breadth of John James Audubon’s influence on my bird paintings. Thanks to my parents, Audubon was the first painter whose work I studied, quickly followed by Louis Agassiz Fuertes. I can’t imagine a better introduction to bird painting, for each of these peerless artists turned to the living bird itself for inspiration and information.
:: Whom serves no actual purpose anymore except to let pedantic grammarians feel superior when it gets misused.
:: It Gets Better because, some day, maybe when you least expect it, you will open your hand, and there, in the middle of your outstretched palm, you will find a crystal. Hold it up to the light, and watch how the crystal sends little rainbows swarming across the walls, ceilings, floors, into the darkest corners of wherever you are. (New blog to me. I was bullied sporadically, but never consistently or all that much; I guess I was the kid the bullies picked on if they felt like bullying but there was nobody else around they would have rather bullied. It almost seemed like their heart wasn't totally in it, when they got round to bullying me, and sometimes they even looked a little bored. I was "a fat kid", but I wasn't even the fat kid, nor was I the weakest kid or the wimpiest kid. As high school went on, it slowed and slowed until, around my junior year, it just pretty much ended entirely. Some of the former bullies even became, if not friends, at least guys who didn't really give a crap about bullying anymore and found it easier just to hang out and talk about sports if there was nothing else going on. But yes, it does get better. Eventually. Nothing lasts forever, not even the worst times.)
All for this week, folks!