I'm a fan of the comics. Most of my life I've called it the philosophy page. As I've thought about the funnies for the past few days I've come to the realization that this little blog is a somewhat like the comics. A slight twist on the mundane parts of life that thrust themselves on us without any planning.
Today for instance in 'Non-Sequiter' there was this short dialogue between Danae and her horse. The horse is the one with some sense -- the pun shouldn't be lost there. It provided some thought about how dumb we can sometimes be with our beliefs, ingrained habits, and idiosyncrasies.
Ahhh. To have that much wisdom... That's what makes it the philosophy page.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Facades
This past weekend I was watching "60 Minutes" and two stories struck me through the mirror in my rabbit hole. They seemingly had no connection but when looking at them in the morror they were about the same thing.
It seems that during the past decade people -- (really foreign governments who aren't our friends) have been hacking into our country's computers. This isn't your computer and mine it's the ones at the NSA and the DOD. They've not only broken in but lurked there for days scooping up secrets about our national defense and weapons systems. What did we hear from the past adminsitration in the White House -- "We're keeping you safe... There are no threats... etc. etc."
Then tennis great Andre Aggasi was interviewed by Katie couric and told the tale in his recently released book of a decade of drug use and hating tennis all the while smiling and being the proud champion on center court.
Facades? Or are they just plain lies? Isn't that what a facade is? A lie for all...
How many times and in what circumstances do we all put on this cloak of it's all right or I think you're a nice person? Our facade are meant to do the same thing. I think it's called deception.
Is it possible to be kind to others and not have a facade? Let's see? There was this guy once. Name was Jesus.
It seems that during the past decade people -- (really foreign governments who aren't our friends) have been hacking into our country's computers. This isn't your computer and mine it's the ones at the NSA and the DOD. They've not only broken in but lurked there for days scooping up secrets about our national defense and weapons systems. What did we hear from the past adminsitration in the White House -- "We're keeping you safe... There are no threats... etc. etc."
Then tennis great Andre Aggasi was interviewed by Katie couric and told the tale in his recently released book of a decade of drug use and hating tennis all the while smiling and being the proud champion on center court.
Facades? Or are they just plain lies? Isn't that what a facade is? A lie for all...
How many times and in what circumstances do we all put on this cloak of it's all right or I think you're a nice person? Our facade are meant to do the same thing. I think it's called deception.
Is it possible to be kind to others and not have a facade? Let's see? There was this guy once. Name was Jesus.
Monday, November 2, 2009
I Forgot
Yesterday I was reading the comics. Dagwood brought me up short. (I know... It's called 'Blondie' but I've always called it 'Dagwood') Dagwood descends the stairs at night -- He thinks I wonder what's on TV this time of night. In front of the idiot box he thinks (You know Dagwood!) A sandwich would be really good about now. In the last panel Blondie come down the stairs, views him in the recliner, sandwich in hand and says, "Did you find out what was making that noise?"
Yep! Dagwood forgot why he came down the stairs in the middle of the night. Ever done that? Forgot what you were doing... I have more times than I can count. Here's the rub... did I really forget, or did my subconscious take over because I really wanted to watch TV in the middle of the night, or perhaps it was because I really wanted that sandwich?
Hmmm... Curious mind, forgetting like that.
Yep! Dagwood forgot why he came down the stairs in the middle of the night. Ever done that? Forgot what you were doing... I have more times than I can count. Here's the rub... did I really forget, or did my subconscious take over because I really wanted to watch TV in the middle of the night, or perhaps it was because I really wanted that sandwich?
Hmmm... Curious mind, forgetting like that.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Little Kids
October 26, 2009
Last Tuesday in a writing critique group I belong to, one of the members, Angel, brought a poem. When she read the poem a second time I saw myself at age five in these lines…
“your adult body shelters that little boy
who whines and screams and stamps his feet…
these children lurk inside us
i’ve heard them squabbling –did too! did not!—”
After class I asked her if I could borrow an idea from it for this blog. She acquiesced. Thanks Angel! I’d been thinking, as I often do, about the all the stuff on the other side of the looking glass.
How pleasant life with each other would be if the kind and gentle nature of our child side would show itself… At least more often. I see it quite regularly in my great granddaughter… Is that Nirvana? Heaven is like the trusting goodness of little children (when left to their better natures…)? Hmmm…
For more stuff I’ve written, take a look at: http://www.bobwhite4stories.com .
Until next time, that’s it from The Storyman ….
Last Tuesday in a writing critique group I belong to, one of the members, Angel, brought a poem. When she read the poem a second time I saw myself at age five in these lines…
“your adult body shelters that little boy
who whines and screams and stamps his feet…
these children lurk inside us
i’ve heard them squabbling –did too! did not!—”
After class I asked her if I could borrow an idea from it for this blog. She acquiesced. Thanks Angel! I’d been thinking, as I often do, about the all the stuff on the other side of the looking glass.
How pleasant life with each other would be if the kind and gentle nature of our child side would show itself… At least more often. I see it quite regularly in my great granddaughter… Is that Nirvana? Heaven is like the trusting goodness of little children (when left to their better natures…)? Hmmm…
For more stuff I’ve written, take a look at: http://www.bobwhite4stories.com .
Until next time, that’s it from The Storyman ….
Monday, October 19, 2009
October 18, 2009
When Weird Stuff Happens
We’re close enough to Halloween so I thought I’d delve into the stuff I can’t explain… Like Alice found surprises because there was more going on than she was aware of, there is more than what it appears going on in life. And I’m not talking about ghosts or goblins although I do firmly believe in the supernatural.
The other day I was reading this piece about how you can read a story for the tenth or eighty-third time and all of a sudden you see something there you’ve never read before. It’s new, different, and catches you off guard. Happened to me the other day when I was reading something I had written. It grabbed me. Did I really write that? How does that stuff happen?
I think I’ll have to crawl further down the hole and see if I can find an albino bunny to explain things... on second thought perhaps that will just create more confusion… I’ll never know until I try.
You can find more weird stuff on my web page http://www.bobwhite4stories.com .
Until next time, that’s it from The Storyman ….
When Weird Stuff Happens
We’re close enough to Halloween so I thought I’d delve into the stuff I can’t explain… Like Alice found surprises because there was more going on than she was aware of, there is more than what it appears going on in life. And I’m not talking about ghosts or goblins although I do firmly believe in the supernatural.
The other day I was reading this piece about how you can read a story for the tenth or eighty-third time and all of a sudden you see something there you’ve never read before. It’s new, different, and catches you off guard. Happened to me the other day when I was reading something I had written. It grabbed me. Did I really write that? How does that stuff happen?
I think I’ll have to crawl further down the hole and see if I can find an albino bunny to explain things... on second thought perhaps that will just create more confusion… I’ll never know until I try.
You can find more weird stuff on my web page http://www.bobwhite4stories.com .
Until next time, that’s it from The Storyman ….
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Dying for a Swim
October 14, 2009
Dying for a Swim
The other afternoon I was trying to enjoy a quiet lunch on the patio with my wife, Loa. Meanwhile some flies, I suppose exercised over the changing weather that would spell their doom with the coming cold, and the chance for a penultimate meal, had descended on us. It wasn’t quite like the Egyptian plague recorded in Exodus but they descended in larger numbers than usual.
One fly in particular kept buzzing Loa and threatening to land, dirty feet first, on her asparagus and cheddar quiche. After much waving him away he settled on the lip of her class of Chardonnay.
Then he took a dive. Ahhh… There’s nothing quite like taking a swim… in vino. He paddled about, doing the breast stroke. I can only imagine what he thought. (Do flys think? My fantasy demands they do.)
His sad end came when we refused to rescue him. Are there some perverse lessons here? Hmmm. It did prompt another look in Alice’s mirror
Dying for a Swim
The other afternoon I was trying to enjoy a quiet lunch on the patio with my wife, Loa. Meanwhile some flies, I suppose exercised over the changing weather that would spell their doom with the coming cold, and the chance for a penultimate meal, had descended on us. It wasn’t quite like the Egyptian plague recorded in Exodus but they descended in larger numbers than usual.
One fly in particular kept buzzing Loa and threatening to land, dirty feet first, on her asparagus and cheddar quiche. After much waving him away he settled on the lip of her class of Chardonnay.
Then he took a dive. Ahhh… There’s nothing quite like taking a swim… in vino. He paddled about, doing the breast stroke. I can only imagine what he thought. (Do flys think? My fantasy demands they do.)
His sad end came when we refused to rescue him. Are there some perverse lessons here? Hmmm. It did prompt another look in Alice’s mirror
Monday, October 5, 2009
October 5, 2009
You’re Beautiful
Lionel watched her enter the room. He appraised her as the familiar feelings welled inside. He rose and took her hand. “You know, you’re beautiful.”
Jean made a face and pulled away. “I don’t think so. Maybe thirty or forty years ago when I had a better figure and gravity hadn’t done it’s work.”
“No,” he said. “There’s no doubt. You are beautiful.”
“To you.”
“You miss my point,” he said.
Hands on her hips she walked into his space. “And that is?”
“Thirty or forty years ago you were pretty. You had a model’s figure and a model’s face. Now, I’ve grown to know what you really are. That ‘s why I said you’re beautiful. Pretty is on the outside. Beauty comes from down deep in the soul.”
“Oh, Lionel,” she said. “I think I’m going to cry.”
“Hush now, my love.” Lionel drew her to him and kissed her.
Here’s the link to my web page: http://www.bobwhite4stories.com .
Until next time, that’s it from the Storyman ….
You’re Beautiful
Lionel watched her enter the room. He appraised her as the familiar feelings welled inside. He rose and took her hand. “You know, you’re beautiful.”
Jean made a face and pulled away. “I don’t think so. Maybe thirty or forty years ago when I had a better figure and gravity hadn’t done it’s work.”
“No,” he said. “There’s no doubt. You are beautiful.”
“To you.”
“You miss my point,” he said.
Hands on her hips she walked into his space. “And that is?”
“Thirty or forty years ago you were pretty. You had a model’s figure and a model’s face. Now, I’ve grown to know what you really are. That ‘s why I said you’re beautiful. Pretty is on the outside. Beauty comes from down deep in the soul.”
“Oh, Lionel,” she said. “I think I’m going to cry.”
“Hush now, my love.” Lionel drew her to him and kissed her.
Here’s the link to my web page: http://www.bobwhite4stories.com .
Until next time, that’s it from the Storyman ….
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