If I put down my tweeter machine for a minute, I actually can communicate with people. As an aside, astonishingly, I just started doing Twitter.
Personal experience is the surest method by which one can determine the truth of a supposition, no matter how reputable the reporter, since so many experiences are subject to individual proclivities.
As I have learned again and again from our nation’s finest towns, like Madison and Austin and Boone and Bellingham, a college lends a town excellent personality and panache.
It always amuses me when any one group of people takes it for granted that, because they have been privileged for a generation or two, they are set apart in any way from the man or woman who is working in order to keep the wolf from the door. It is only luck and a little temporary veneer and before long the wheels may turn and one and all must fall back on whatever basic qualities they have.” This.
The fact that creationism can even be a conversation is a goddamn shame and blight upon our nation’s character.
A man on foot, on horseback or on a bicycle will see more, feel more, enjoy more in one mile than the motorized tourists can in a hundred miles. – Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire.
John Fugelsang put it quite succinctly when he said, “The only way you can follow both Trump and Jesus is if you’ve never read either of their books.
Break up your cycle. Get out of your rut. Find a way in your normal setting to “feel alive.” One thing I’ll do is get up early and see the sunrise from my yard, or for some bonus points, from my roof or a nearby hilltop. Jump in a chilly swimming pool! If it belongs to your neighbor, experiment with not telling them. Don a thong and maybe a midriff tank and head to the post office. I have not tried that one yet but I’ll bet it won’t be boring.
We can never comprehend all of the information in an given circumstance, so the brain creates little false, constructed scale models to allow us to function, but they’re all incorrect. Because of all the information we’re missing, the more complex and substantial your imagined scale models become, the more deluded you actually grow.
Without teachers in our lives, we would be a bunch of sorry dullards, indeed. Dimwits and dunces.
Pay more, eat less.
What if we pagans happen to be the most Christ like Samaritans on the planet, but we don’t believe in God?
Getting dirty is the whole point. If you’re getting dirty, that means that you have traveled to where there is no pavement. When you sojourn into such terrain, you greatly up your chances of experiencing some full-on wild nature.
There is no part of this country where one cannot find a source of fresh, organic meat and produce.
My life is always more delicious when I have whiskers on my face, but that might just be because those whiskers tend to accumulate bacon crumbs and scotch, rendering them literally delicious all day long.
If we as a society properly reclaimed all of the construction lumber heading to the landfill and the bonfire every day, we wouldn’t need to cut down another tree for twenty years, if ever.
The pub, after all, is where so much of theater life takes place.
I’ve never met anyone nicer than my mom, and I’ve met Donny and Marie.
When the clergy get too big for their britches, they take these wonderfully benevolent writings from the Bible and crumble their intended integrity by slathering them with human nature.
Rather than suffer another attempt by the religious right to base our legalese upon the Bible, I would vote that we found it squarely upon the writings of J. R. R. Tolkien. The.
I’ll happily sport a bumper sticker that reads, “You can have my rib eye when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers,” or even write a bit of poetry. The Bratwurst: A Haiku Tight skin flute of pork. Juices fly, explode in mouth. A little mustard.