So...What'd I miss?

Hey, kids. It's been a while. What happened while I was gone?

-The Tigers are 8-2 in their last 10 games, good enough for a 42-33 record and a 4 game lead in the Central. They're even getting a bit more national attention lately, however, it's usually joined by a comment from whatever snarky announcer saying to "keep an eye on the Twins". Wow...that's a reach. Just give our boys their due, please?

-Carlos Guillen's agent says that our oft-injured outfielder(?) may be back in July since he's finally feeling better. Um...is this good news? I'm enjoying seeing Marcus Thames play on a regular basis, as well as seeing DNR favorite Josh Anderson get playing time, whenever possible. Who is going to get screwed over when Carlos comes back? Newly short haired Ichiro Ordonez? No, probably Marcus. Poor guy...he at least should be used to it by now.

-Figaro sent down, French called up. Well, thank goodness. I dub French "The Tickler", giggle every time he throws a pitch, and the guy gets sent down. I want to see what we have in Mr. French, as Mr. Figaro became my enemy as soon as I found out he and Fernando Rodney were related.

-Speaking of which, how is Rodney still perfect in save opportunities? It's amazing...I go through Rolaids like Leyland goes through Marlboros whenever the guy pitches and he's 17/17 in saves this year. Todd Jones does a facepalm when Rodney pitches. I dunno...keep up...um...the good work?

-Finally, Our Hero has landed himself on the disabled list once again, this time with a cyst-like mass on his vagina, er, left elbow. After failing to record an out in his last two appearances, I was expecting him to disappear with a stress disorder, due to a contagious Dontrelle. But this will do, I guess. Nate thus far in 21 innings pitched has a 7.74 ERA, a 1.86 WHIP, and opposing players are hitting .287 off of him. The Tigers are 5-16 this year overall when Nate pitches. Take your time coming back, Mr. Robinson. Jesus loves you more than you will know...whoa, whoa, whoa.

Allrighty. The disappointing Oakland A's are next on the schedule. Lets end the first half of the season on a good note, shall we?

Funnies / A Happy Video / Interesting background to S.H.I.T.


Hi Folks


OK peeps we are heading southwards tomorrow morning and I must admit that I am really looking forward to getting away for a week or so, our first stop is at my sister and brother-in-law's in Dumfries and then on to England...... roll on Blackpool yayyyyy !!

Some one liners to keep you going ......

Remember.. Once you get over the hill, you'll begin to pick up speed.
Everyone has a photographic memory. Some, like me, just don't have any film.
I always know... God won't give me more than I can handle, there are times I just wish that he didn't trust me quite so much...
Never be too open-minded, your brains may fall out.
Some days are a total waste of makeup.
A balanced diet is a cookie in each hand.
Middle age is when broadness of the mind and narrowness of the waist change places.
Junk is something you've kept for years and throw away three weeks before you need it.
Learn from the mistakes of others. Trust me... you can't live long enough to make them all yourself. I've tried !
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Two young boys walked into a pharmacy one day...... the elder of the two picked out a box of tampons and proceeded to the checkout counter. The man at the counter asked the older boy, "Son, how old are you?" "Eight," the boy replied. The man continued, "do you know what these are used for?"
The boy replied, "not exactly, but they aren't for me. They're for him. He's my brother. He's four. We saw on TV that if you use these you would be able to swim and ride a bike. Right now, he can't do either."


If you're having a bad day this will surely make you feel better ... and put a smile on your face!! It was made in the Antwerp, Belgium Central (Train) Station on March 23, 2009, with no warning to the passengers passing through the station. At 8:00 am a recording of Julie Andrews singing 'Do, Re, Mi' begins to play on the public address system. As the bemused passengers watch in amazement, some 200 dancers begin to appear from the crowd and station entrances.

They created this amazing stunt with just two rehearsals!

I'm going to finish this post with some intelligent information ...... with believe it or not something which is not usually spoken about in delicate surroundings - but there again this blog is not within the boundary of what you would call delicate surroundings - so here goes !

Manure ... In the 16th and 17th centuries, everything had to be transported by ship and it was also before commercial fertilizer's invention, so large shipments of manure were common..

It was shipped dry, because in dry form it weighed a lot less than when wet, but once water (at sea) hit it, it not only became heavier, but the process of fermentation began again, of which a by product is methane gas. As the stuff was stored below decks in bundles you can see what could (and did) happen. Methane began to build up below decks and the first time someone came below at night with a lantern, BOOOOM!

Several ships were destroyed in this manner before it was determined just what was happening
After that, the bundles of manure were always stamped with the term "Ship High In Transit" on them, which meant for the sailors to stow it high enough off the lower decks so that any water that came into the hold would not touch this volatile cargo and start the production of methane.

Thus evolved the term " S.H.I.T. " or ( Ship High In Transport ) which has come down through the centuries and is in use to this very day.
You probably didn't know the true history of this word, neither did I so there ya go, you learn something new every day hehehe..... I mean, I was always under the impression that it was a golf term or at least a sporting term .....
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~



Cheers from the land of the Tartan and the Heather, Love Kate xxx.
Something to think about ...
If you put fences around people, you get sheep.
William McKnight .

Art and Illusion


[Piranesi - Carceri Invenzione]

It might be said, therefore, that the very process of perception is based on the same rhythm that we found governing the process of representation: the rhythm of schema and correction. It is a rhythm which presupposes constant activity on our part in making guesses and modifying them in the light of our experience. Wherever this test meets with an obstacle, we abandon the guess and try again, much in the way we proceed in reading such complex pictures as Piranesi's Carceri.

In this emphasis on elimination of false guesses, on trial and error in all acquisition of knowledge "from the amoeba to Einstein," I am following K.R. Popper. It would be tempting to take up the problems of Gestalt psychology from this angle, for Popper emphasizes that the assumption of regularity is of utmost biological value. A world in which all our experiences were constantly belied would be a lethal world. Now in looking for regularities, for a framework or schema on which we can at least provisionally rely (though we may have to modify it for ever), the only possible strategy is to proceed from simple assumptions. Popper has shown that paradoxically this is not due to the fact that a simple assumption is more probably right but because it is most easily refuted and modified. [...]

Without some initial system, without a first guess to which we can stick unless it is disproved, we could indeed make no "sense" of the milliards of ambiguous stimuli that reach us from our environment. In order to learn, we must make mistakes, and the most fruitful mistake which nature could have implanted in us would be the assumption of even greater simplicities than we are likely to meet with in this bewildering world of ours. Whatever the fate of the Gestalt school may be in the field of neurology, it may still prove logically right in insisting that the simplicity hypothesis cannot be learned. It is, indeed, the only condition under which we could learn at all. To probe a hole we first use a straight stick to see how far it takes us. To probe the visual world we use the assumption that things are simple until they prove to be otherwise.

--Ernst Gombrich, Art and Illusion
Another summer project -- this wonderful book and trying to figure out what can be said of the importance of representations (illusory, veridical, and all the steps in between) to our perception of the world. Can there be a Gibsonian account of this and do I agree with it?

Art and Illusion


[Piranesi - Carceri Invenzione]

It might be said, therefore, that the very process of perception is based on the same rhythm that we found governing the process of representation: the rhythm of schema and correction. It is a rhythm which presupposes constant activity on our part in making guesses and modifying them in the light of our experience. Wherever this test meets with an obstacle, we abandon the guess and try again, much in the way we proceed in reading such complex pictures as Piranesi's Carceri.

In this emphasis on elimination of false guesses, on trial and error in all acquisition of knowledge "from the amoeba to Einstein," I am following K.R. Popper. It would be tempting to take up the problems of Gestalt psychology from this angle, for Popper emphasizes that the assumption of regularity is of utmost biological value. A world in which all our experiences were constantly belied would be a lethal world. Now in looking for regularities, for a framework or schema on which we can at least provisionally rely (though we may have to modify it for ever), the only possible strategy is to proceed from simple assumptions. Popper has shown that paradoxically this is not due to the fact that a simple assumption is more probably right but because it is most easily refuted and modified. [...]

Without some initial system, without a first guess to which we can stick unless it is disproved, we could indeed make no "sense" of the milliards of ambiguous stimuli that reach us from our environment. In order to learn, we must make mistakes, and the most fruitful mistake which nature could have implanted in us would be the assumption of even greater simplicities than we are likely to meet with in this bewildering world of ours. Whatever the fate of the Gestalt school may be in the field of neurology, it may still prove logically right in insisting that the simplicity hypothesis cannot be learned. It is, indeed, the only condition under which we could learn at all. To probe a hole we first use a straight stick to see how far it takes us. To probe the visual world we use the assumption that things are simple until they prove to be otherwise.

--Ernst Gombrich, Art and Illusion
Another summer project -- this wonderful book and trying to figure out what can be said of the importance of representations (illusory, veridical, and all the steps in between) to our perception of the world. Can there be a Gibsonian account of this and do I agree with it?

On Avicenna

The period of study that culminated in his seeing the point of metaphysics completed Ibn Sina's [Avicenna's] education, at least the phase that was predominantly receptive and retentive rather than actively productive and synthetic. He was eighteen. His knowledge, he tells us, would mature, even as his memory grew less elastic in adulthood; but, he insists, he made no really new departure beyond this date. This sounds like a boast that he had nothing more to learn and may shock our sense of modesty or propriety, or seem hyperbolic in relation to our ideals of a lifetime of learning. But what Ibn Sina actually said (although consistently mistranslated), was simply this: "My memory for what I understood was keener then, but the understanding is riper now. Yet it is the same, not reconstructed or reborn in the [...] least." What he meant was that the framework of his understanding was firm and his central beliefs would not alter radically as he matured.

--Lenn E. Goodman, Avicenna, 1992 [17]

Avicenna was 18 when he finally understood Aristotle's Metaphysics -- he had read it so many times that he had it almost by heart. But it was after reading al-Farabi's book On the Objects of Metaphysics, that he began to understand. He was able to step outside the framework of theology and understand Aristotle's questions as they were for Aristotle. Questions about what it is for something to be (ti en einai), about being-at-work (energeia), about being-at-work-staying-itself (entelecheia).

I have only just begun researching into his life and writings and already I am jotting down notes and understandings. I am hoping these notes will turn into some understanding of the metaphysical implications of Avicenna's theory of intentionality -- oof -- there is much work to be done.

On Avicenna

The period of study that culminated in his seeing the point of metaphysics completed Ibn Sina's [Avicenna's] education, at least the phase that was predominantly receptive and retentive rather than actively productive and synthetic. He was eighteen. His knowledge, he tells us, would mature, even as his memory grew less elastic in adulthood; but, he insists, he made no really new departure beyond this date. This sounds like a boast that he had nothing more to learn and may shock our sense of modesty or propriety, or seem hyperbolic in relation to our ideals of a lifetime of learning. But what Ibn Sina actually said (although consistently mistranslated), was simply this: "My memory for what I understood was keener then, but the understanding is riper now. Yet it is the same, not reconstructed or reborn in the [...] least." What he meant was that the framework of his understanding was firm and his central beliefs would not alter radically as he matured.

--Lenn E. Goodman, Avicenna, 1992 [17]

Avicenna was 18 when he finally understood Aristotle's Metaphysics -- he had read it so many times that he had it almost by heart. But it was after reading al-Farabi's book On the Objects of Metaphysics, that he began to understand. He was able to step outside the framework of theology and understand Aristotle's questions as they were for Aristotle. Questions about what it is for something to be (ti en einai), about being-at-work (energeia), about being-at-work-staying-itself (entelecheia).

I have only just begun researching into his life and writings and already I am jotting down notes and understandings. I am hoping these notes will turn into some understanding of the metaphysical implications of Avicenna's theory of intentionality -- oof -- there is much work to be done.

Fun With VORP

I haven't done anything with VORP in a while, so here you go. VORP stands for Value Over Replacement Player, if you don't know. It's a stat invented by Keith Woolner that demonstrates how much a hitter contributes offensively or how much a pitcher contributes to his team in comparison to a fictitious "replacement player" who is an average fielder at his position and a below average hitter. It's usually very accurate, in my opinion.

This year's current leaders in VORP for offensive players are no surprise. Joe Mauer leads the pack at 44.8 and Albert Pujols is second at 42.3. Other notables are the next highest ranked guy from the Central, Victor Martinez, at 31.6, Mr. Perfect, Derek Jeter, at 23.8, and "He Who Kills Tigers", Luke Scott, at 21.8. How bad are the 2009 Tigers offensively? (through June 17th)

Miguel Cabrera: 19.8
Curtis Granderson: 18.6
Brandon Inge: 16.1
Ramon Santiago: 4.8
Marcus Thames: 3.3
Adam Everett: 2.2
Jeff Larish: 1.4
Ryan Raburn: 1.1
Magglio Ordonez: 0.4
Clete Thomas: 0.1
Placido Polanco: -1.5
Josh Anderson: -2.3
Gerald Larid: -4.3
Dane Sardinha: -6.6

Yep...not so good. But then again, the scoreboard should have told you that. And by the way, since no one loves beating a dead horse more than I do, Gary Sheffield's current VORP is 11.6. That's not great, but it would be 4th on our team.

As for pitching, our strength, the current leaders in VORP are Zach Greinke at 38.6, Jered Weaver at 37.6, Dan Haren at 36.5, and Roy Halladay at 36.1. The Tigers come in as follows.

Edwin Jackson: 31.2
Justin Verlander: 22.5
Rick Porcello: 15.8
Brandon Lyon: 6.0
Joel Zumaya: 5.5
Ryan Perry: 4.7
Fernando Rodney: 4.2
Bobby Seay: 3.4
Armando Galarraga: 2.4
Zach Miner: 2.3
Nate Robertson: -4.6
Dontrelle Willis: -5.7

Congrats, Nate. You're only the second worst pitcher on the team.

On an unrelated note, I probably won't be around for a week or two as we are moving the DesigNate Robertson office from Toledo to Maumee, Ohio. I thank those of you who check in on whatever dumb crap I'm babbling about and I'll see you in a couple. Hopefully, I have something positive to write about then. Seeya...

An Amazing Story / The Land of the Swine Flu / An Amazing Man...

An Amazing True Story ......

Look carefully at the B-17 and note how shot up it is - one engine dead, tail, horizontal stabilizer and nose shot up.. It was ready to fall out of the sky. (This is a painting done by an artist from the description of both pilots many years later.) Then realize that there is a German ME-109 fighter flying next to it. Now read the story below. I think you'll be surprised.....



Charlie Brown was a B-17 Flying Fortress pilot with the 379th Bomber Group at Kimbolton, England. His B-17 was called 'Ye Old Pub' and was in a terrible state, having been hit by flak and fighters. The compass was damaged and they were flying deeper over enemy territory instead of heading home to Kimbolton. After flying the B-17 over an enemy airfield, a German pilot named Franz Steigler was ordered to take off and shoot down the B-17. When he got near the B-17, he could not believe his eyes. In his words, he 'had never seen a plane in such a bad state'. The tail and rear section was severely damaged, and the tail gunner wounded. The top gunner was all over the top of the fuselage. The nose was smashed and there were holes everywhere. Despite having ammunition, Franz flew to the side of the B-17 and looked at Charlie Brown, the pilot. Brown was scared and struggling to control his damaged and blood-stained plane.

BF-109 pilot Franz Stigler - B-17 pilot Charlie Brown. Aware that they had no idea where they were going, Franz waved at Charlie to turn 180 degrees. Franz escorted and guided the stricken plane to, and slightly over, the North Sea towards England. He then saluted Charlie Brown and turned away, back to Europe. When Franz landed he told the CO that the plane had been shot down over the sea, and never told the truth to anybody. Charlie Brown and the remains of his crew told all at their briefing, but were ordered never to talk about it.

More than 40 years later, Charlie Brown wanted to find the Luftwaffe pilot who saved the crew. After years of research, Franz was found. He had never talked about the incident, not even at post-war reunions. They met in the USA at a 379th Bomber Group reunion, together with 25 people who are alive now - all because Franz never fired his guns that day.

When asked why he didn’t shoot them down, Stigler later said, “I didn’t have the heart to finish those brave men. I flew beside them for a long time. They were trying desperately to get home and I was going to let them do that. I could not have shot at them. It would have been the same as shooting at a man in a parachute.”
Both men died in 2008 ...
This is a true story http://www.snopes.com/military/charliebrown.asp
THIS WAS BACK IN THE DAYS WHEN THERE WAS HONOUR IN BEING A WARRIOR THEY PROUDLY WORE UNIFORMS, AND THEY DIDN'T HIDE IN AMBUSH INSIDE A MOSQUE, OR BEHIND WOMEN AND CHILDREN, NOR DID THEY USE MENTALLY RETARDED WOMEN AS SUICIDE BOMBERS TO TARGET AND KILL INNOCENT CIVILIANS....HOW TIMES HAVE CHANGED......

(L to R.) German ace Franz Stigler, Artist Ernie Boyett, B17 Pilot Charlie Brown.



Swine Flu ......

Well folks you will see that I'm still here in the land of the Tartan and the Heather thanks to Swine Flu, Louis and his nursery, you see I was helping out there last week .... ARGHHH! according to information from the medics the whole of the south-side of Glasgow is 'rife' with it -so yours truly has been caught by the dreaded lurgy. The only good thing about it as far as we 'oldies' are concerned, is that we don't suffer the bug as badly as the younger folk as we have plenty of antibodies which deal with the infection better than the younger people. Poor wee Louis was knocked for six by the bug as was his Aunt L. So there you go, if you're an 'oldie' there is a good point to swine flu.

Our holiday has had to be put back for a week so that when my 5 days of antibiotics are finished (plus a couple of days) we are then able to be off to the land of the sunshine and fun in Blackpool.. I mean - we wouldn't have wanted to spread the dreaded lurgy down to the folk in England - would we ? hehehe...

OK OK !! enough already of the feeling sorry for myself have a look at this last story about ......

An Amazing Man ......

This next entry today on my blog was received from my brother in law and after having seen it I felt a total duffer for feeling sorry for myself . This wee video shows an amazing character who has no arms or legs but is a totally amazing man who shows more courage and bravery in his life with his body than someone who is seven feet tall.

Now doesn't that bring things into focus again huh ?


Cheers from the land of the Tartan and the Heather, Love Kate xxx.

Liberal Arts


[Hammershoi]

From Montaigne's 'Of the Education of Children'

He will be told [...] what it is to know and what to be ignorant; what ought to be the end of study; what valor, temperance, and justice are; the difference between ambition and avarice, servitude and submission, license and liberty; by what token a man may know true and solid contentment; how far death, pain, and shame are to be feared, "How to avoid and how to endure each strain;" what springs move us, and the reason for so many different impulses in us. For, I think, the first lessons with which one should saturate his understanding ought to be those which regulate his habits and his common sense; that will teach him to know himself and how both to die well and to live well.

Among the liberal arts let us begin with that which makes us free. They all serve in some measure to the formation of our life and to the use made of life, as all other things in some sort do; but let us make choice of that which directly and professedly serves to that end.

Liberal Arts


[Hammershoi]

From Montaigne's 'Of the Education of Children'

He will be told [...] what it is to know and what to be ignorant; what ought to be the end of study; what valor, temperance, and justice are; the difference between ambition and avarice, servitude and submission, license and liberty; by what token a man may know true and solid contentment; how far death, pain, and shame are to be feared, "How to avoid and how to endure each strain;" what springs move us, and the reason for so many different impulses in us. For, I think, the first lessons with which one should saturate his understanding ought to be those which regulate his habits and his common sense; that will teach him to know himself and how both to die well and to live well.

Among the liberal arts let us begin with that which makes us free. They all serve in some measure to the formation of our life and to the use made of life, as all other things in some sort do; but let us make choice of that which directly and professedly serves to that end.

Noted


[Beardsley]


I have a few small projects in the works and finally taking some form -- so as a reminder to myself most of all, I plan to work through some thoughts on the following:

Sarah Scott's Millennium Hall -- in relation to Lucrezia Marinella's argument discussed earlier. I'm mostly just planning to work through the various character studies and tales of virtue rewarded and vice punished, but I also want to try and spell out an argument that rests upon an essentialist picture of men and women. Scott seems to argue that the essential vice of a woman is vanity -- a vice to which even the noblest and best-educated woman will be susceptible. The essential vice of man is passion for women/'love' -- though the evidence for this is more diffuse. But as such, women will be nobler than men because even in her essential vice a woman will harm only herself, whereas the man, in his essential vice will cause the destruction of others. Much to work through here.

I am assisting with some research this summer and the reading has begun to turn over some very fertile ground -- I hope to look closer at Marinella, and then Scott and her contemporaries. Rousseau will also be revisited.

I'll also hopefully continue some course work on issues in perception, tentatively branching out into aesthetic perception and/or issues in deception. I'll probably return to various articles from the most recent issues of Cabinet which are sticking in the back of my mind as relevant to these topics.

And finally, I've begun reading some selected essays by Montaigne and hope to share some excerpts here.

Noted


[Beardsley]


I have a few small projects in the works and finally taking some form -- so as a reminder to myself most of all, I plan to work through some thoughts on the following:

Sarah Scott's Millennium Hall -- in relation to Lucrezia Marinella's argument discussed earlier. I'm mostly just planning to work through the various character studies and tales of virtue rewarded and vice punished, but I also want to try and spell out an argument that rests upon an essentialist picture of men and women. Scott seems to argue that the essential vice of a woman is vanity -- a vice to which even the noblest and best-educated woman will be susceptible. The essential vice of man is passion for women/'love' -- though the evidence for this is more diffuse. But as such, women will be nobler than men because even in her essential vice a woman will harm only herself, whereas the man, in his essential vice will cause the destruction of others. Much to work through here.

I am assisting with some research this summer and the reading has begun to turn over some very fertile ground -- I hope to look closer at Marinella, and then Scott and her contemporaries. Rousseau will also be revisited.

I'll also hopefully continue some course work on issues in perception, tentatively branching out into aesthetic perception and/or issues in deception. I'll probably return to various articles from the most recent issues of Cabinet which are sticking in the back of my mind as relevant to these topics.

And finally, I've begun reading some selected essays by Montaigne and hope to share some excerpts here.

The Human White Flag

Hey, Nate. It's been a while.

I've given the inspiration behind this little blog some time off lately. Some time off for me to rattle on about other things. Some time off for him to figure out how to pitch again. And time for Nate to grow five more stupid facial hair designs. But, alas, we're back again. It's just time to designate Nate Robertson for assignment.

Nate has become the human white flag. He rarely pitches unless the game is already over. In his last nine appearances, the Tigers have lost every game. He personally hasn't lost them, but he hasn't done a whole lot to help. For the year, he's pitched 20.1 innings. His ERA's at 6.20 and his WHIP is 1.57. Balls have left the yard in two of the last three appearances of his, including the grand slam the other day. And Jim Leyland has lost all confidence in Robertson, if he had any at all in him to begin with.

Together, Justin Verlander, Edwin Jackson, and Rick Porcello will make $7,970,000 this season. Nate will make $7,000,000 by himself and another $10,000,000 next year. But he's costing the team more than money by taking up a roster spot and pitching like he belongs in AA ball. Cut the cord, Double D. The man is done.

Thanks for playing, Nate. Take Dontrelle with out on the way out.

UPDATE: Today against St. Louis, Nate never recorded an out, allowing 4 earned runs. I rest my case.

Normal Service will be resumed etc...

. . . . . .. .
Cheers Folks,

It's a little known fact that Scottish people say things like Cheers when meeting and also Cheers when parting .... Well, this post is to say Cheers to all (meaning Hi !) and to also say Cheers (meaning Bye !) ... At the mo' I'm totally shattered and need some time to recuperate so Rob and I will head southwards this week so that we can feel some sunshine and sea-breezes on our ancient bodies.

If any of the Scots 'Auld enemy' (English folk) see a couple of oldies strolling along the promenade in Blackpool looking lost and staring skywards at the big yellow ball up there (well, you don't often see one of those in the land of the tartan) I hope you will say Hi ! We would be pleased to see you , we really are quite friendly you know ...

I know it sounds daft - but I will miss sitting here at this PC every morning! OMG! I will have to 'talk' to my other half at the start of the day, while drinking me morning cuppa... instead of having an hour or so of 'coming to myself ' by typing into my PC and checking out who (in other parts of the world) has called to say Hi and who has said what. Now that's a weird concept -actually speaking to each other isn't it?

So I will pause here and enclose a story to keep you going - as usual it is a story with a message 'cos I'm a soppy so-an-so and I just love these ones from 'Walk the Talk' and Rex Barker's 'Joke of the Day'... Enjoy !
Once there was a time, according to legend ...... when Ireland was ruled by a king who had no son. The king sent out postings throughout his realm advising that all qualified young men should apply for an interview with the king as a possible successor. However, all candidates must have two qualifications: They must (1) love God and (2) love their fellow human beings.
The Young man about whom this legend centers saw a notice and reflected that he loved God and, also, his neighbors. One thing stopped him, he was so poor that he had no clothes that would be presentable in the sight of the king. Nor did he have the funds to buy provisions for the long journey to the castle. So the young man begged here, and borrowed there, finally managing to scrounge enough money for the appropriate clothes and the necessary supplies.
Properly attired and well-suited, the young man set out on his quest, and had almost completed the journey when he came upon a poor beggar by the side of the road. The beggar sat trembling, clad only in tattered rags. His extended arms pleaded for help. His weak voice croaked, "I'm hungry and cold. Please help me... please?" The young man was so moved by this beggar's need that he immediately stripped off his new clothes and put on the tattered threads of the beggar. Without a second thought he gave the beggar all his provision as well. Then, somewhat hesitantly, he continued his journey to the castle dressed in the rags of the beggar, lacking provisions for his return trek home.
Upon his arrival at the castle, a king's attendant showed him in to the great hall. After a brief respite to clean off the journey's grime, he was finally admitted to the throne room of the king.
The young man bowed low before his majesty. When he raised his eyes, he gaped in astonishment. "You... it's you! You're the beggar by the side of the road." "Yes," the king replied with a twinkle, "I was that beggar." "But...bu...bu... you are not really a beggar. You are the king for real. Well, then, why did you do this to me?" the young man stammered after gaining more of his composure.
"Because I had to find out if you genuinely love God and your fellow human beings," said the king. "I knew that if I came to you as king, you would have been impressed by my gem-encrusted golden crown and my royal robes. You would have done anything I asked of you because of my regal character. But that way I would never have known what is truly in your heart. So I used a ruse. I came to you as a beggar with no claims on you except for the love in your hear. And I discovered that you sincerely do love God and your fellow human beings. You will be my successor," promised the king. "You will inherit my kingdom."
and as for the joke of the day ...
A Fishing Lure ...... A couple of young boys were fishing at their special pond off the beaten track. All of a sudden, the Game Warden jumped out of the bushes.
Immediately, one of the boys threw his rod down and started running through the woods. The Game Warden was hot on his heels.
After about a half mile, the young man stopped and stooped over with his hands on his thighs to catch his breath, so the Game Warden finally caught up to him.
"Let's see yer fishin' license, Boy!" The Warden gasped.
With that, the boy pulled out his wallet and gave the Game Warden a valid fishing license.
"Well, son," said the Game Warden. "You must be about as dumb as a box of rocks! You don't have to run from me if you have a valid license!" "Yes, sir," replied the young guy. "But my friend back there, well, he don't have one."
Cheers again - Love Kate xxx.

P.S. Now where in the world did I pack those 'Kiss me Quick' hats ? Hmmm... Yeah right !! As though I could get Rob to actually wear one of these things hehehe... Cheers Peers x.

Favorite Non Tigers

Watching the White Sox series and the Tigers' continued inability to go a game without giving up a home run to Jim Thome, I really wanted to dislike Big Jim. I mean, it's easy for me to hate Luke Scott, Kelly Shoppach, and other guys that just seem to pad their stats off Tigers pitching. But I like Thome. And that got me to thinking about the guys I've personally seen play that I've enjoyed over the years that never played for Detroit. Here's the top ten.

10. Bo Jackson
For those of you too young to remember the phenomenon that Bo Jackson was, well, you missed out on something special. Bo was one of the best running backs I've ever seen playing for the Raiders while also playing left field for the Royals. He didn't hit much for average, but when he made contact, it went as far as anyone in history. Bo was also famous for breaking his bat over his knee after striking out. In 8 seasons before injuries ended his career, he hit .250, 141, 415. But the numbers don't reflect what he meant to the sports world at the time. He was just a sight that had to been seen.

9. Dennis Eckersley
I don't know if it was the goofy hair, the silly mustache, or the unique sidearm delivery he had, but Eckersley was fun to watch. He had the best control I've ever seen in any pitcher and was the first guy I ever saw to make the transition from successful starter to elite closer. The Bash Brothers got all the headlines, but Eck was the guy that closed the door every night finishing with 390 career saves. Oh, he also provided the biggest thrill of my young life when he served up the Kirk Gibson game winning homer in Game One of the '88 World Series. Thanks for the backdoor slider, Eck.

8. George Brett
He's a former MVP, has over 3000 hits, and was a member of the '85 World Champion Royals, the first World Series I ever saw. But the thing Brett will forever be remembered for is the "Pine Tar Incident". If you've never seen it, look it up. The guy had the craziest eyes I'd ever seen and when I saw it for the first time as a kid, I immediately fell in love with the guy. Brett was the first non-Tiger that I ever rooted for. Today, George is the owner of the Tri-City Dust Devils, the A ball team of the Rockies...a fact that I find quite odd for a guy that IS the Kansas City Royals.

7. Kirby Puckett
Ex-Toledo Mud Hen, Kirby Puckett, was someone that I think everyone liked when he played the game. He was a chubby, stubby-legged guy that just did everything well. He hit for average, power, and played a great center field for the Twins. Puckett became a national star in '91 during the best World Series of all time, in my opinion, between the Twins and Braves. Kirby hit the walk off homer in Game 6 that set up the best day of Jack Morris' life in Game 7. In 1996, Kirby was coming off of a great Spring Training when he woke up unable to see out of his right eye. Glaucoma ended his career right then. Puckett died of a stroke in 2006 but will live on as the greatest Twin player of all time.

6. Dave Stewart
The stare. That's what I'll always remember about Dave Stewart pitching for the A's in the late 80's, early 90's. To this day, he's the most intimidating pitcher I've ever seen, even more than Randy Johnson. Justin Verlander's recent game day persona sort of reminds me of Stewart back in the day. Stewart won over 20 games four times and was named MVP of the '89 World Series. After baseball, he was the pitching coach in San Diego for a while and is currently a sports agent.

5. Jim Thome
Yes...here he is. Thome has over 500 homers, 385, I believe, against the Tigers. Well, it seems that way. But he's just so fun to watch swing a bat. He's like Ivan Drago in Rocky IV, "Everything he hits...he destroys!" In 2003, a Cleveland Plain Dealer poll named Jim the most popular athlete in the city's sports history. Take that, Bob Feller and Jim Brown. But the main reason I like the guy is because he's just such a cool person. He's putting all 10 of his nieces and nephews through college. His one nephew, Brandon, was paralized in '06 and afterwards asked Jim to hit him a home run. And Babe Thome not only delivered, but he hit two out that day. And now a personal story, if I may. After a Tigers/Indians in game in Cleveland, my buddy walked into a bar in the flats wearing a Bobby Higginson jersey. Who does he see sitting at the bar by himself? Jim Thome. He walked up to him and asked Jim if he'd sign his ticket stub. Jim looked at him, gave him the once over, and said "You've got a lot of balls wearing that in here." He then signed the ticket and shook his hand. Jim Thome: Tiger Killer...and a class act.

4. Jose Canseco
Yeah, Jose's a punchline nowadays. But he's not on here because of the MMA, the celebrity boxing, the steroid book, or any of the other stuff. As a kid, I was just in awe of the guy and can't overlook that now. Along with Alan Trammell and Kirk Gibson, Canseco WAS baseball to me. Whenever he took a swing, whether he connected or missed, there was an "ooh" from the crowd. He was the '86 Rookie of the Year, '88 MVP, and baseball's first 40/40 man. It sucks to see your childhood heroes fall, but I'll never forget how much fun it was to see him play before he became a shell of his former self.

3. Cal Ripken
The Streak. What more do I have to say? Cal gets credit for "saving" baseball after the strike and I think he deserves much of that credit. He broke Gehrig's record for consecutive games played, won a World Series, won multiple MVPs, and always led the league in autographs signed. Cal was just a class act and one of kind. I resented him a bit as a kid for always getting so much attention as a shortstop while I felt Trammell was ignored. But as I got older, I realized that there was probably no better representitive for baseball than Cal Ripken, Jr.

2. Jeff Bagwell
His crouched stance, stepping backward, and violently uppercutting the ball...that's what made me a Jeff Bagwell fan. I loved his swing. It's the coolest swing in baseball histroy, to me. Bags hit 449 career homers, was the '91 Rookie of the Year, '94 NL MVP, and also won a Gold Glove. He spent his whole career in Houston after the Red Sox traded him for journeyman reliever Larry Anderson. Think the Sawx would like that deal back?

1. Craig Biggio
Why is Craig Biggio my favorite non-Tiger of all time? Probably because he reminded me of Trammell and Whitaker so much. He spent his whole career with the same team, the Astros. After converting from catcher, he was a Gold Glove winning infielder. He hit the ball all over the field, finishing with over 3000 hits. He had pop in his bat, too, ending with 291 career dingers. And he was a good guy, a family man, that was never involved in any trouble. He reminded me of MY guys in Detroit, or at least how I viewed them. The only baseball hat you'll ever see me wear other than one with the Old English D on it is an Astros one. That's because of Biggio and Bagwell.

Junior's Toilet Problem / Ladies Loos / Bill Gates vs GM...





Hi Folks,


A Remedy for Constipation ...... A three year old boy is sitting on the toilet. His mother thinks he's been in there too long so she goes in to see what's up. The little boy is gripping on to the toilet seat with his left hand and hitting himself on top of the head with his right hand. His mother says, "Billy, are you all right? You've been in here for a while now." Billy says, "I'm fine Mommy, I just haven't gone poopy yet."
Mother says, "Ok, you can stay here for a few more minutes, but Billy, why are you hitting yourself on top of your head?" Billy says, "It works for ketchup!"

Another loo visit (a public one this time) which brings back memories ...... When you have to visit a public toilet, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the cubicle doors. Every cubicle is occupied. Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the cubicle. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants!

The dispenser for the modern 'seat covers' (invented by someone's Mum, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your bag on the door hook, if there was one, so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mum would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!) down with yourpants and assume ' The Stance ' . In this position, your aging, toneless, thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but having not taken time to wipe the seat or to lay toilet paper on it, you hold 'The Stance.'
To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, 'Dear, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!' Your thighs shake more. You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your bag (the bag around your neck, that now you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do, so you crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail.
Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your bag, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest and you and your bag topple backward against the tank of the toilet. 'Occupied!' you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, while losing your footing altogether and sliding down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, 'You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get.
By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl and spraying a fine mist of water that covers your bum and runs down your legs and into your shoes.
The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force and you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a sweet wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.
You can't figure out how to operate the taps with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it?) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, 'Here, you just might need this.
As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used and left the men's toilet. Annoyed, he asks, 'What took you so long and why is your bag hanging around your neck?
This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with any public rest rooms/toilets (rest?you've GOT to be kidding!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers that other commonly asked question about why women go to the toilets in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your bag and hand you Kleenex under the door.
This HAD to be written by a woman! No one else could describe it so accurately. I am posting this 'cos I've been there and done that ! OK...... that's enough talk of toilet humour for the moment - though they are great fodder for funny stories I must admit ! The next subject which comes to mind while trying to think of funny subjects ?? Well they 'are funny' when they are working, not sooo much when they're not !

Bill Gates versus GM...... For all of us who feel only the deepest love and affection for the way computers have enhanced our lives, read on. At a recent computer expo (COMDEX), Bill Gates reportedly compared the computer industry with the auto industry and stated ... 'If GM had kept up with technology like the computer industry has, we would all be driving $25 cars that got 1,000 miles to the gallon.' In response to Bill's comments, General Motors issued a press release stating: If GM had developed technology like Microsoft, we would all be driving cars with the following characteristics (and I just love this part ) :

1. For no reason whatsoever, your car would crash........Twice a day.
2. Every time they repainted the lines in the road, you would have to buy a new car.
3. Occasionally your car would die on the freeway for no reason. You would have to pull to the side of the road, close all of the windows, shut off the car, restart it, and reopen the windows before you could continue. For some reason you would simply accept this.
4. Occasionally, executing a maneuver such as a left turn would cause your car to shut down and refuse to restart, in which case you would have to reinstall the engine.
5. Macintosh would make a car that was powered by the sun, was reliable, five times as fast and twice as easy to drive - but would run on only five percent of the roads.
6. The oil, water temperature, and alternator warning lights would all be replaced by a single 'This Car Has Performed An Illegal Operation' warning light.I love the next one!
7. The airbag system would ask 'Are you sure?' before deploying.
8. Occasionally, for no reason whatsoever, your car would lock you out and refuse to let you in until you simultaneously lifted the door handle, turned the key and grabbed hold of the radio antenna.
9. Every time a new car was introduced car buyers would have to learn how to drive all over again because none of the controls would operate in the same manner as the old car.
10. You'd have to press the 'Start' button to turn the engine off

PS - I'd like to add that when all else fails, you could call 'customer service' in some foreign country and be instructed in some foreign language how to fix your car yourself!



Cheers from the land of the Tartan and the Heather, Love Kate xxx.

A Poem for Older Folk / Shipwreck Story / Funny Headlines ...

Hi there ......




Hello again folks,

Special poem for Older Folk .......

A row of bottles on my shelf Caused me to analyze myself. One yellow pill I have to pop Goes to my heart so it won't stop. A little white one that I take Goes to my hands so they won't shake. The blue ones that I use a lot Tell me I'm happy when I'm not. The purple pill goes to my brain And tells me that I have no pain. The capsules tell me not to wheeze Or cough or choke or even sneeze.. The red ones, smallest of them all Go to my blood so I won't fall. The orange ones, very big and bright Prevent my leg cramps in the night. Such an array of brilliant pills to cure all kinds of ills, But what I'd really like to know...... Is what tells each one where to go!


The Shipwreck ......... The only survivor of a shipwreck was washed up on a small, uninhabited island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him, and every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming.Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the elements and to store his few possessions. But then one day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, the smoke rolling up to the sky.

The worst had happened; everything was lost. He was stunned with grief and anger. "God, how could you do this to me!" he cried. Early the next day, however, he was awakened by the sound of a ship that was approaching the island. It had come to rescue him. "How did you know I was here?" asked the weary man of his rescuers. "We saw your smoke signal," they replied.

It is easy to get discouraged when things are going badly. But we shouldn't lose heart, because God is at work in our lives, even in the midst of pain and suffering. Remember, next time your little hut is burning to the ground--it just may be a smoke signal that summons The Grace of God.
Pass this on. You never know who may be in need of this today.
Some funny Headlines in Papers......

Something Went Wrong in Jet Crash, Expert Says...
Really? Ya think? --
Police Begin Campaign to Run Down Jaywalkers...
Now that's taking things a bit far!
Panda Mating Fails; Veterinarian Takes Over...
What a guy!
Miners Refuse to Work after Death...
No-good-for-nothing, lazy so-and-so's!
Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Defendant...
See if that works any better than a fair trial!
War Dims Hope for Peace ...
I can see where it might have that effect!
If Strike Isn't Settled Quickly, It May Last Awhile ...
Ya think?
Cold Wave Linked to Temperatures ...
Well - Who'd have thunk it ??


Cheers from the land of the Tartan and the Heather, Love Kate xxx.

FUNNIES - Man and his Ostrich / Secrets / Little Tommy...

I'll have the same as him ......

Hi Folks,

A man and his Ostrich ......

A man walks into a restaurant with a full-grown ostrich behind him. The waitress asks them for their orders.The man says, 'A hamburger, fries and a Coke,' and turns to the ostrich, 'What's yours?' 'I'll have the same,' says the ostrich. A short time later the waitress returns with the order. 'That will be $9.40 please,' and the man reaches into his pocket and pulls out the exact change for payment.

The next day, the man and the ostrich come again and the man says, 'A hamburger, fries and a Coke.' The ostrich says, 'I'll have the same.' Again the man reaches into his pocket and pays with exact change.

This becomes routine until the two enter again. 'The usual?' asks the waitress. 'No, this is Friday night, so I will have a steak, baked potato and a salad,' says the man.'Same,' says the Ostrich . Shortly, the waitress brings the order and says, 'That will be $32.62.' Once again the man pulls the exact change out of his pocket and places it on the table.

The waitress cannot hold back her curiosity any longer. 'Excuse me, sir. How do you manage to always come up with the exact change in your pocket every time?' 'Well,' says the man, 'several years ago I was cleaning the attic and found an old lamp. When I rubbed it, a Genie appeared and offered me two wishes.

My first wish was that if I ever had to pay for anything, I would just put my hand in my pocket and the right amount of money would always be there .' That's brilliant!' says the waitress. 'Most people would ask for a million dollars or something, but you'll always be as rich as you want for as long as you live!' 'That's right. Whether it's a gallon of milk or a Rolls Royce, the exact money is always there,' says the man. The waitress asks,

'What's with the ostrich?' The man sighs, pauses and answers, 'My second wish was for a tall chick with long legs who agrees with everything I say.'

A Confession ......

A couple were lying in bed together on the morning of their tenth wedding anniversary when the wife says
“Darling, as this is such a special occasion, I think that it is time I made a confession…….. Before we were married I was a hooker for eight years.”
The husband ponders for a moment and then looks into his wife's eyes and says,
“My love, you have been a perfect wife for ten years, I cannot hold your past against you, in fact maybe you could show me a few tricks of the trade and spice up our sex life a bit ?”
She said
“No I don't think you understand - my name was Brian and I played rugby for New Zealand ........”

Little Tommy at the nude beach ......

A mother and father took little Tommy to a nude beach. As he walked along the sand, he noticed that many of the women have boobs bigger than his mother's, so he goes back to ask her why! 'The bigger they are, the sillier the lady is.' she tells him! Pleased with the answer he went off to play in the ocean but returned to tell his mother that many of the men have larger things than his dad does 'The bigger they are, the dumber the man is' she tells him...

Pleased with her answer, Tommy goes back to the ocean to play. Shortly thereafter, Tommy promptly returned to his mother and said 'Daddy is talking to the silliest lady on the beach, and the longer he talks, the dumber he gets.'


Cheers from the land of the Tartan and Heather, Love Kate xxx.

Miguel Who?

I wanted to get to this sooner since I was so irritated by it, but in the May 25th issue of The Sporting News, they surveyed 100 "baseball people" to come up with a list of the 50 best players in the Major Leagues. There were 13 Hall of Famers, 13 Cy Young winners, and 12 MVPs among the panel. Guys with Tigers connections in the voting included Sean Casey, Eric Davis, Phil Garner, Bill Lajoie, Lloyd McClendon, and Frank Tanana. They also had insight from other current and former MLB players.

What gets me, is that we only have one player on the entire list: Miguel Cabrera. The insult to Cabrera, in my opinion, is that he came in 28th in the voting. Really? That's it? And no Curtis Granderson or Justin Verlander on the list? I'm amazed by this.

Captain Overrated, Grady Sizemore, the guy always compared with Curtis, came in 12th. Hell, Zach Greinke, he of two productive MLB months in his career, came in 25th! Lists like this are subjective, I know. But the lack of love for the Tigers' core is amazing to me.

Cabrera's a top ten guy, at least. I'll give you Albert Pujols, Alex Rodriguez, Joe Mauer, Mark Teixeira, Manny Ramirez, and maybe Hanley Ramirez ahead of him. But that's about it. I wouldn't include pitchers very high because they only pitch every 5th day. When I'm looking at valuable, I'm looking at an every day guy. And when I think of the best players in baseball, Miguel Cabrera's a name that has to come up right away.

Here's their top ten:

1. Albert Pujols
2. Alex Rodriguez
3. Johan Santana
4. Manny Ramirez
5. Hanley Ramirez
6. Chase Utley
7. Roy Halladay
8. Derek Jeter
9. Mariano Rivera
10. Chipper Jones

Jeter and Rivera? What is this, 1997? Mauer finished 39th, an even bigger insult than Miguel's. In their "Just Missed The Cut" section, Magglio (Ichiro) Ordonez finished 53rd. But no Granderson. No Verlander. What's the reason? Am I just biased? Was the panel blinded by the overwhelming "Yanks/Sawx" media coverage we're all subjected to on ESPN? You tell me.

I'll end with this bit of wisdom. One of the former players giving "insight" was our own ex-roller coaster of a closer Todd Jones. His pick as the best player in baseball? Derek Jeter, he of declining ability and lack of range. Todd says it's because when he looks at Jeter, he sees a champion. He blows a bunch more smoke up Jeter's behind after that. I find it sad that a guy that was in Detroit for so long would pick Derek Jeter, a sure Hall of Famer, but the most overrated player in modern times, to be the current best player in baseball.

What does a Tiger player have to do to get some national media love? Well, other than get traded to Boston or New York, that is...

The generall & the particular



From the new issue of
Cabinet, the article 'Rain and Rainfall -- Great Britain -- Periodicity -- Periodicals' by Edward Eigen:

Here, at last, is the argument: "in his bare was," the historian "is so tied, not to what should be, but to what is, to the particular truth of things, that his example draweth no necessary consequence." And the philosopher, for his part, in his "bare rule," gives the precept for what should be, without convincingly showing why it is so. The argument, such as it is, comes from Sir Philip Sidney, The Defense of Poesie (published 1595). [...] what made him a mantic poet of rainfall are his reflections on how to "coupleth the generall notion with the particular example," the philosopher's precept with the historian's example.
I always read and learn the loveliest things in this magazine.

The generall & the particular



From the new issue of
Cabinet, the article 'Rain and Rainfall -- Great Britain -- Periodicity -- Periodicals' by Edward Eigen:

Here, at last, is the argument: "in his bare was," the historian "is so tied, not to what should be, but to what is, to the particular truth of things, that his example draweth no necessary consequence." And the philosopher, for his part, in his "bare rule," gives the precept for what should be, without convincingly showing why it is so. The argument, such as it is, comes from Sir Philip Sidney, The Defense of Poesie (published 1595). [...] what made him a mantic poet of rainfall are his reflections on how to "coupleth the generall notion with the particular example," the philosopher's precept with the historian's example.
I always read and learn the loveliest things in this magazine.

Aww Pictures / A Tattle-Tale / OOps / Feel Good Story...

A definite 10 out of 10 in the Awww factor ......


Hi Folks,


Pictures with the Awww factor ......

Could you imagine coming home from work to find this tiny creature napping on your couch with your dog? Guess who came home for dinner? It followed this beagle home, right through the doggy door. This happened in Maryland recently. The owner came home to find the Bambi like visitor had made himself right at home. This hit the 6 o'clock news big time. Isn't this adorable?
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

More 'Charm' of the young ......

My younger son 'D' (Louis's Dad) was one of these children who 'told all' that went on in our house when he was small and true to the law of 'Karma' Louis is 'exactly' the same and 'D' now knows how I felt - when 'he' told 'all and sundry' what was happening at our house and 'who said what' during his childhood ...... secrets were an unknown quantity when he was wee and so now 'D' has to watch what he says and instead of just opening his mouth and being open 'he' now finds that he has to first think before he speaks - Isn't it funny how when you become a parent your 'spelling' improves out of all recognition as anything that Louis might repeat is spelt to Debz...
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

OOps moment ......

One of these occasions when a parent could have stuffed something into her daughter's mouth to keep her quiet ....

A college professor was doing a study testing the senses of first year schoolchildren, using a bowl of Fruit Loops, the cereal with the hole in it. He gave all the children the same kind of loop, one at a time, and asked them to identify them by colour and flavour. The children began to say:
'Red.............cherry,' 'Yellow.........lemon,' 'Green............lime,' 'Orange .........orange.'
Finally the professor gave them all 'honey' loops. After eating them for a few moments none of the children could identify the taste.

'Well,' he said 'I'll give you all a clue. It's what your mother may sometimes call your father.'
One little girl looked up in disgust and horror, spat hers out and yelled: 'Oh NOOOO ! They're ass-holes !'
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

I'm ending this post with a 'feel good story' from 'Inspirational Stories' and hope you like it - It did look kind of familiar, so I checked it out and I had added part of it to the post on the 9th April ... but it's a lovely one so it's worthy of the full story on this outing ... Enjoy ! By the way, I post these because I like them, they are not meant in any way like lectures or preaching or aught - they just appeal to me - erm..... I have told you before that I'm 'still' menopausal and that I'm a wee bit doo-lally - haven't I ??

The Pencil Maker ......

The Pencil Maker took the pencil aside, just before putting him into the box. "There are 5 things you need to know," he told the pencil, "Before I send you out into the world. Always remember them and never forget, and you will become the best pencil you can be."

"One: You will be able to do many great things, but only if you allow yourself to be held in Someone's hand."

"Two: You will experience a painful sharpening from time to time, but you'll need it to become a better pencil."

"Three: You will be able to correct any mistakes you might make."

"Four: The most important part of you will always be what's inside."

"And Five: On every surface you are used on, you must leave your mark. No matter what the condition, you must continue to write." The pencil understood and promised to remember, and went into the box with purpose in its heart.

Now replacing the place of the pencil with you. Always remember them and never forget, and you will become the best person you can be.

One: You will be able to do many great things, but only if you allow yourself to be held in God's hand. And allow other human beings to access you for the many gifts you possess.

Two: You will experience a painful sharpening from time to time, by going through various problems in life, but you'll need it to become a stronger person.

Three: You will be able to correct any mistakes you might make.

Four: The most important part of you will always be what's on the inside.

And Five: On every surface you walk through, you must leave your mark. No matter what the situation, you must continue.
I love this parable as it encourages folk to know that they are special and that they can fulfill the purpose for which they were born. Life is hard sometimes and can make us feel discouraged and that we cannot make a change.
(Another one which is Author Unknown...)




Cheers from the land of the Tartan and the Heather,
Love, Kate xxx.

Tigers = Knicks?

I don't know how many of you follow the NBA these days. I know that my interest isn't what it once was. But during the Isiah Thomas days as GM in New York a couple years ago, he put the Knicks into a several year funk that they're just now starting to recover from, mainly by spending money foolishly and making bad trades. Guys like Shandon Anderson, Howard Eisley, Stephon Marbury, Tim Thomas, Nazr Mohammed, Jamal Crawford, and Steve Francis made it to New York, ate up the payroll, and won them very few games. The point of all this? I'm worried our Detroit Tigers are headed down this same path.

I got thinking about this with the recent rumors of the Tigers interest in (Never Surrender) Corey Hart of the Brewers. I don't know if he's the answer, but I do think we need to get someone that can contribute offensively. Cabrera and Granderson can't do it alone. But is it even possible for Detroit to get a guy that will make a difference with our current payroll and the Detroit economy? I mean, attendence is down and our payroll is sky high already. Here's where the Knicks comparison comes in. Look at these deals turning bad before our eyes.

Nate Robertson: $7 million this year, $10 million next year
Dontrelle Willis: $10 million this year, $12 million next year
Gary Sheffield: $13.6 million this year to hit homers for the Mets
Carlos Guillen: $10 million this year, $13 million next, and $13 million in 2011
Jeremy Bonderman: $12.5 million this year, $12.5 million next year
Magglio Ordonez: $18 million this year, and he's sure to hit his playing time kicker to invoke his $18 million option for next year and $15 million for 2011. The Tigers are also responsible for renting him suites on the road.

That's a lot of jack for a bunch of guys that are contributing little (Maggs) to nothing to this team (everyone else). Where is the money going to come from to add help to this team? Unless Mr. I starts selling pizzas at an astronomical rate, I don't see it happening. On top of these contracts, there's a bunch of other guys with expiring contracts this year that have serious raises coming in 2010.

Justin Verlander: $3.675 million this year. If he keeps pitching like he has, he's going to cost much more in 2010.
Edwin Jackson: $2.2 million this year. Ditto.
Brandon Inge: $6.3 million this year, $6.6 million next. Who knows where this one is heading. Maybe the 13 year olds can all pitch in their allowance in 2011.
Joel Zumaya: $735,000 this year. Next year? We'll see.

We do have a couple good deals. Granderson's locked up cheaply through 2013. Porcello's deal is peanuts through 2012. However, the best player of them all, Miguel Cabrera, great as he is, may end up hurting us as he jumps from $15 million this year to $20 million next year and 2011, $21 million in 2012 and 2013, and $22 million in 2014 and 2015. Where is this cash going to come from?

Placido Polanco, Brandon Lyon, Gerald Laird, Fernando Rodney, Marcus Thames, Bobby Seay, Adam Everett, Ramon Santiago, Matt Treanor, Zach Miner, Armando Galarraga, Ryan Raburn, and Dane Sardinha are all on one-year contracts. Do any of them come back cheaper next year? Anderson, Clete, Dolsi, and the other restricted kids are on one year deals, too, and will probably be due raises. What exactly is this team going to look like next year?

Taking ALL of this into consideration, is it worth it to Mike Ilitch to take (even more of) a loss on this year and just spend more cash to win now? Is it even possible? I'm no expert...just a moron with a keyboard. Maybe one of you can shed some light on the situation. But, that's why Double D makes the big bucks. But for how much longer considering he's the guy that got us into our Knickerbocker situation?

Renaissance



I've been trying to find a way in to a set of thoughts which keep recurring to me, so here is an effort --


I've spent the last three weeks in a strange state of longing -- there is the particular longing for the one who has left, but there is also a nostalgic longing, for a return to a different way of knowing. I have been writing imaginary letters, re-reading books from my childhood and fighting against the sort of learning I do here. In the books from my childhood all is simple and yet vastly complicated -- there are forces which are beyond our ken, working in the world and in individuals to change and create and eradicate. There are a set of lessons which arise again and again -- love is the strongest force in the world, creation is preferred above all, effort is always rewarded, self-knowledge is opposed to selfishness, the whole is much more than a sum of its parts, and so on. They are lessons which I believe in so strongly and so deeply that to realize how easily they are forgotten is painful.

I have forgotten these lessons -- lessons which will last long but require attention and engagement. But I am returning to them now, like Proust's undersea diver, feeling my way across symbols and representations which promise some sort of wonder-ful contentment.

But these lessons stand opposed to so much of the other lessons in my life. What do I mean? I do not know. It has something to do with Leibniz, the philosopher to whom I have been turning these days. It has something to do with his monads and his apperception and his God. It also has something to do with Cassirer and his philosophy and his history. It has something to do with Sophocles and Oedipus when he dies -- the lesson he has learned. It has something to do with little Meg Murray and Charles Wallace and Calvin O'Keefe in Madeleine L'Engle's wonderful books. It has something to do with persepective and perception -- points of view. It has something to do with God -- but not what most people mean by God, but rather some other sense which has always lurked inside of me -- believing not because of justification or evidence, but because to believe is to trust and to tend and to strive. It has something to do with understanding and wonder -- and less to do with knowing (though I can rarely tell the difference). It has something to do with the self -- the thing of which I know so little.

I grow weary of the 'philosophy' and the 'teaching' I do here. It breaks my spirit. Maybe I would like it better if it masqueraded under a different name -- but it is both too close and far too far from the philosophy and the teaching I have done elsewhere.

There are little lights though -- the light today when reading Koffka's strange Gestalt theories -- a hybrid of Whitehead and Leibniz. The light reading Spinoza last week and speaking of his creation -- learning what it was he had done, and how little it is understood. The light reading these small, simple books -- books about love and friendship and communication and understanding. The light that comes from thinking about a paper project -- a paper on perception and beauty that turns outward to understand the inward. But the greatest light comes from remembering to be strange and to be open and to be sensitive and to remember laughter and make-believe and finding voices and understanding in the places that others have forgotten to look.

Renaissance



I've been trying to find a way in to a set of thoughts which keep recurring to me, so here is an effort --


I've spent the last three weeks in a strange state of longing -- there is the particular longing for the one who has left, but there is also a nostalgic longing, for a return to a different way of knowing. I have been writing imaginary letters, re-reading books from my childhood and fighting against the sort of learning I do here. In the books from my childhood all is simple and yet vastly complicated -- there are forces which are beyond our ken, working in the world and in individuals to change and create and eradicate. There are a set of lessons which arise again and again -- love is the strongest force in the world, creation is preferred above all, effort is always rewarded, self-knowledge is opposed to selfishness, the whole is much more than a sum of its parts, and so on. They are lessons which I believe in so strongly and so deeply that to realize how easily they are forgotten is painful.

I have forgotten these lessons -- lessons which will last long but require attention and engagement. But I am returning to them now, like Proust's undersea diver, feeling my way across symbols and representations which promise some sort of wonder-ful contentment.

But these lessons stand opposed to so much of the other lessons in my life. What do I mean? I do not know. It has something to do with Leibniz, the philosopher to whom I have been turning these days. It has something to do with his monads and his apperception and his God. It also has something to do with Cassirer and his philosophy and his history. It has something to do with Sophocles and Oedipus when he dies -- the lesson he has learned. It has something to do with little Meg Murray and Charles Wallace and Calvin O'Keefe in Madeleine L'Engle's wonderful books. It has something to do with persepective and perception -- points of view. It has something to do with God -- but not what most people mean by God, but rather some other sense which has always lurked inside of me -- believing not because of justification or evidence, but because to believe is to trust and to tend and to strive. It has something to do with understanding and wonder -- and less to do with knowing (though I can rarely tell the difference). It has something to do with the self -- the thing of which I know so little.

I grow weary of the 'philosophy' and the 'teaching' I do here. It breaks my spirit. Maybe I would like it better if it masqueraded under a different name -- but it is both too close and far too far from the philosophy and the teaching I have done elsewhere.

There are little lights though -- the light today when reading Koffka's strange Gestalt theories -- a hybrid of Whitehead and Leibniz. The light reading Spinoza last week and speaking of his creation -- learning what it was he had done, and how little it is understood. The light reading these small, simple books -- books about love and friendship and communication and understanding. The light that comes from thinking about a paper project -- a paper on perception and beauty that turns outward to understand the inward. But the greatest light comes from remembering to be strange and to be open and to be sensitive and to remember laughter and make-believe and finding voices and understanding in the places that others have forgotten to look.

Right now I would love to ......

Hold onto the Sun ......

and 'Lassoo' the Moon ......

Well folks,
I just noticed today that this post I'm typing atm is my 300th - flaming Nora ! I didn't think I had that many words or sentences in me......... Now at this point I really should be commemorating this occasion with something really special and right now I can't think of a ruddy special thing to utter or type - ain't it always the way huh ??
So I guess I'll just have to let my fingers do the walking just like in the 'Yellow Pages' and let my wayward mind take me where it wants to go ...
At the moment I have the workings of two books on my PC and I hope to hell that nothing happens to the workings 'cos if I were to lose them I'd be soooo flippen mad the PC could possibly find itself on the outside lying in pieces in the garden with shards of glass lying everywhere.
My brain somehow lies somewhere amid lots of sea shingle and is lying in piles all over the place and I can't get it to concentrate on aught...... I guess it's probably something to do with my sister who is constantly on my mind - it's really weird, I keep smelling a funny smell, it's not a bad smell or anything just weird and people say things that can mean other things and at the moment I am picking up on things - usually wrongly I must admit ...... Poor Rob! he can normally do no wrong and yet just now he can't seem to do right for doing wrong !! If you know what I mean .
Oh to hang! I would be better concentrating on trying to enjoy doing something but what, Lord knows.... do you know, I have the weirdest feeling that everybody is on a different time zone from me .... No honestly ! I'm not 'really going doolally, at least I hope not. It's probably that I haven't zoned back in to my normal life yet. You see for the last four and a half months most of my waking hours have been spent getting organized and heading down to Dorien's flat and taking her to hospital, doctor's or just 'out' to different places or even just to sit it her flat and keep her company and now that she's gone I just feel totally 'LOST ' .
Oh Lord I know this is going to take time but I do sooo 'HATE' this feeling and I want to get back into my own skin and my own life 'cos I miss it . Maybe I should listen to the doctor and head down 'the wee pill' route - but to be honest I don't really want to do that if I can help it.
Oh to hang ! Kate waken up, dry yer eyes and smell the coffee or the flowers or go and make breakfast, Rob will be gasping for his tea - it's half past eight and the kettle isn't even on....
As per usual of late I will finish this load of blethers with a 'feel good story' from my emails via John in Dumfries and say to 'ALL' I hope 'YOU' have a great day and weekend - Summer seems to have arrived in the land of the Tartan and the Heather so I might suggest to Rob that we head down to the seaside tomorrow and wallow in the sights - that view always seems to help me get to grips easier with life somehow.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

A holy man was having a conversation with God one day and said, ' God , I would like to know what Heaven and Hell are like.' God led the holy man to two doors. He opened one of the doors and the holy man looked in. In the middle of the room was a large round table. In the middle of the table was a large pot of stew, which smelled delicious and made the holy man's mouth water. The people sitting around the table were thin and sickly. They appeared to be famished. They were holding spoons with very long handles, that were strapped to their arms and each found it possible to reach into the pot of stew and take a spoonful. But because the handle was longer than their arms, they could not get the spoons back into their mouths.

The holy man shuddered at the sight of their misery and suffering. God said, 'You have seen Hell.' They went to the next room and opened the door. It was exactly the same as the first one. There was the large round table with the large pot of stew which made the holy man's mouth water. The people were equipped with the same long-handled spoons, but here the people were well nourished and plump, laughing and talking. The holy man said, 'I don't understand.' It is simple,' said God . 'It requires but one skill. You see they have learned to feed each other, while the greedy think only of themselves.'

"Remember that I will always share my spoon with you".

Cheers and Love from the land of the Tartan, Kate xxx.