tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813294262956119642024-03-19T13:28:27.937-05:00Three Hundred Wordscyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.comBlogger325125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-89505264140097454762013-10-20T03:12:00.000-05:002013-10-20T03:12:28.663-05:00Charles Gounod / Messe solennelle Santa Cecilia 'Credo'<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/7M9sO5aenuU" width="480"></iframe><br />
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One of the most beautiful pieces of music ever composed, I think. Taking a break from Three Hundred Words until the new year to focus on some neglected tasks :)</div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-10945153903379618942013-10-11T03:46:00.000-05:002013-10-11T04:04:29.636-05:00A Ruse by Any Other Name<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFZi8v3jZ-XyJno0ZAxAxN9XuV0yNumSpmdG-_Y0EpL9LrbM35J8q8W24J4NbUhP-md26NpD_mfvacTB9YlYjIuyM33r9AeAH55q7YjCwmzjQZchLSeGvbGvp_3FDZr0VpyJhnC9DCu-TO/s1600/Powell-anthrax-vial.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFZi8v3jZ-XyJno0ZAxAxN9XuV0yNumSpmdG-_Y0EpL9LrbM35J8q8W24J4NbUhP-md26NpD_mfvacTB9YlYjIuyM33r9AeAH55q7YjCwmzjQZchLSeGvbGvp_3FDZr0VpyJhnC9DCu-TO/s200/Powell-anthrax-vial.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He was a simple farmer. But his involvement in anti-government
activities was well-known by the authorities so when they picked him up and
delivered him to the detention center he was not in the least surprised. What
did surprise him however, as his eyelids suddenly grew heavy, was the large syringe
full of sedative that they delivered into his neck.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He didn’t wake when they dressed him in a Polish army
uniform and tossed him in the back of a truck that rumbled 500 miles through
the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia and onwards to Upper Silesia, arriving
at the small town of Gleiwitz, just four miles from the Polish border. He didn’t
wake either when he was dragged into the control room of the radio station or
when the announcer uttered his famous nine words, “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gleiwitz_incident"><em>Uwage! Tu Gliwice. Rozglosnia znajduje sie w rekach Polskich</em></a>.” And we can <em>hope</em> <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/history/world-war-two/6106566/World-War-IIs-first-victim.html">Franciszek Honiok</a> didn’t
wake when they emptied a revolver into head and placed blame upon him for the
beginning of World War II:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>“</em><a href="http://www.fcit.usf.edu/HOLOCAUST/resource/document/HITLER1.htm"><em>This night for the first time, Polish regular soldiers fired on our territory</em></a><em>. Since 5.45 A.M. we have been returning the fire, and
from now on bombs will be met by bombs… I will continue this struggle, no
matter against whom, until the safety of the Reich and its rights are secured.”<o:p></o:p></em></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Though Hitler had already negated the non-aggression
agreement with Poland he still needed this part of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Himmler">Operation Himmler</a> to provide
the world his <em>casus belli</em>. “Its credibility doesn't matter,” he told his
Generals on August 22, 1939, “the victor will not be asked whether he told the
truth."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Third Reich didn’t invent <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/False_flag">False Flag</a> scenarios and in
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fire_of_Rome#Rumors_of_arson_and_the_persecution_of_Christians">fact</a> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Masada_Action_and_Defense_Movement">they’ve</a> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strategy_of_tension">always</a> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gulf_of_Tonkin_incident">been</a> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Celle_Hole">used</a> <a href="http://rt.com/usa/iran-coup-cia-operation-647/">by</a> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canuck_letter">a</a> <a href="http://www.wsws.org/en/articles/2000/01/lapd-j28.html">host</a> <a href="http://www.consortiumnews.com/archive/story38.html">of</a> <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/US/story?id=92662&page=1">self-serving</a> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Istanbul_pogrom">villainous</a> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Freakout">entities</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blood_Libel">great</a>
<a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-504083_162-57538944-504083/sharmeka-moffitt-burned-la-woman-made-up-story-about-racial-attack-police-say/">and</a> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tawana_Brawley_rape_allegations">small</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bloed,_Bodem,_Eer_en_Trouw">with</a> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basra_prison_incident">varying</a> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shelling_of_Mainila">success</a>.</span></div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-53649972969025777202013-10-04T23:39:00.002-05:002013-10-04T23:39:33.946-05:00A Redundant but Sincere Welcome...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
...to <a href="http://www.liketellingthetruth.com/">td</a>, (one of my favorite new writers) a recent and frequent commenter but new to "follow" here, thanks! </div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-90650393848248954492013-09-30T00:57:00.001-05:002013-09-30T00:57:55.344-05:00Of Heroic Lineage<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGgL3SEbsXTgvSuMvINBTPeUhyphenhyphenSOCm4ZZ_WkzFCbBYMLogyQHgXTJLZdrdw_s95-wms4rmZ-f0-jBvTarZFnZnhHHWy2iXVcYUij1-YoAx4aCqs0Hzq719AhnDi9h_n6u71VSm_0uz8QD3/s1600/Hollister_riot_life_magazine_1947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGgL3SEbsXTgvSuMvINBTPeUhyphenhyphenSOCm4ZZ_WkzFCbBYMLogyQHgXTJLZdrdw_s95-wms4rmZ-f0-jBvTarZFnZnhHHWy2iXVcYUij1-YoAx4aCqs0Hzq719AhnDi9h_n6u71VSm_0uz8QD3/s200/Hollister_riot_life_magazine_1947.jpg" width="152" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And just like that, it was <em>over</em>.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Liberty ships and troop transports began to load up,
sometimes 15,000 men at a time, their decks stacked six-high with bunks. By
September 30, 1946, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Magic_Carpet">Operation Magic Carpet</a> had returned over 8 million soldiers,
sailors, airmen, and Marines back to American shores from the European and
Pacific theaters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The war was over. Here’s
your discharge. Thank you very much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Many of the veterans found their way back to their old lives,
retaking their place at the family farms and stores. Some took advantage of the
GI Bill and got a college degree. Many bought their first homes on VA loans and
started families. But many had a tough go. They were crippled. Disfigured. Mentally
ill. Most suffering from PTSD, they’d never again find any semblance of normalcy
in their lives.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There were heroes who’d seen action - the fighter pilots,
the tail-gunners, the tank drivers, the Marines charged with taking beaches and
mountains inch by bloody inch – who missed the noise, the excitement, the
adrenaline-pumping existence of a life lived at full speed, who found their old
life utterly, completely and devastatingly boring. Some of these men returned
to service. In the new America, after all, another war would always be just
around the corner.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some though, found what they were looking for on the
expanding American highways: speed, freedom, open horizons, camaraderie, and
life on the edge. It was all there. They began to form motorcycle and hot rod
clubs. They lived a relatively obscure life of satisfaction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In 1947, came the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hollister_riot">Hollister Riot</a>. LIFE magazine took notice
of the new breed of men, these outlaws, these “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/One_percenter_(motorcycle)#One_percenter">1%ers</a>.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And in 1948, one of those “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pissed_Off_Bastards_of_Bloomington">pissed off bastards</a>” from Bloomington,
California split with his motorcycle club and created something new: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hells_Angels">The HELLS ANGELS</a>.</span></div>
</div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-3946215391350097292013-09-15T01:54:00.000-05:002013-09-15T01:54:18.250-05:00A Distant Consular Posting<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqzUAXiGstVy_PqXmvtrkMm1NFizgNgOC_c-J8SrJe9YWaE-BX0NdMONN0WNS3vrwhrAZFkN3xy-KFpqEhkJ6qgE6igPWsYrgObHkWzap7rRCWnfhFE5l9jQK9WslIF7Ugk4WK5RIIRJ7W/s1600/ladoncella.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="116" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqzUAXiGstVy_PqXmvtrkMm1NFizgNgOC_c-J8SrJe9YWaE-BX0NdMONN0WNS3vrwhrAZFkN3xy-KFpqEhkJ6qgE6igPWsYrgObHkWzap7rRCWnfhFE5l9jQK9WslIF7Ugk4WK5RIIRJ7W/s200/ladoncella.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">From the day of her birth, she was perfect, and as she grew
from infant to beautiful young girl, it became obvious to all in her seaside village
that she was highly favored by the gods. The priests in the temple cautioned
her parents to take good care of her lest some tragedy befall her. And they
did. Everyone did. And she was loved.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She reached puberty with her purity intact and her body unscarred,
and not long after, word had reached the seat of government in Cusco that a new
candidate was ready to accept an ambassadorial scholarship. When the official
delegation arrived to escort her to the Incan capital, a great feast was
ordered. It was the first time the village had been honored in this way, the
first time that one of their own had reached such a pinnacle of grace. Surely
they would be blessed for the rest of their days.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In Cusco, she was treated like royalty. She was assigned a
small army of grooms and maids and teachers, given the finest clothes. She ate
fresh vegetables and fine fat llama meat at the table of all the great nobles. The
king himself would visit her personally to check on her well-being and
progress.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At the end of the year, she was deemed ready. She was given
her assignment and an enormous entourage set out on the thousand mile trek.
Though only fifteen, it was to her credit that she only sprouted a handful of
white hairs by the time she arrived at her post on the top of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Llullaillaco">Llullaillaco</a> on February
6, 1499. Her job title, after all, was fairly stress-inducing: sacrificial
virgin.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Beautiful in life, the archaeologists who discovered <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/11/science/11mummu.html?_r=0">La Doncella</a>’s incorrupt body 500 years later also found her breathtakingly beautiful
in death.</span></div>
</div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-22338717601675217172013-09-10T18:52:00.001-05:002013-09-10T18:52:27.452-05:00Dance While the Sky Crashes Down<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/1tsxYQSnkKU" width="459"></iframe>cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-89528452288028764062013-09-03T04:46:00.001-05:002013-09-03T14:10:40.202-05:00Folie à Deux<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89jQapIPrkEM3n5LDJKawP-kNxgrrUvS6QXz2oMcjdqikjNjug830duS8riuPEpnUxCohgnuQJDTAfUUXkZMLZ67lW8puvnabU0rjl8IZ-EY10gX5JOiuKzbLn8o0WVH8-BRwU3jFWTiY/s1600/sabina+eriksson.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89jQapIPrkEM3n5LDJKawP-kNxgrrUvS6QXz2oMcjdqikjNjug830duS8riuPEpnUxCohgnuQJDTAfUUXkZMLZ67lW8puvnabU0rjl8IZ-EY10gX5JOiuKzbLn8o0WVH8-BRwU3jFWTiY/s200/sabina+eriksson.bmp" width="160" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">They were sisters. All the things that sisters shared, the
secrets, the crushes, the dreams, and worries, they shared too. But Sabina and
Ursula were not just sisters, they were identical twins. All of their experiences,
they shared from the womb.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When they fed, they shared their mother’s milk. And when she
died, they shared each other’s tears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When their father would come home drunk and angry, they’d
share the hiding space in the attic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At school, they shared their lunch. And their homework. They
shared a love for sports. And when teased by bullies because of their poverty,
they shared their ears and shoulders and hearts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But, as happens in life, they grew up. And soon, Ursula met
a man she fell in love with. An American. She married and moved to the United
States and left her sister in Sweden.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">They stayed in touch though, almost every day. Still best
friends for life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On May 17, 2008, Sabina and Ursula were reunited on a rather
spur of the moment meeting in London. And they were sharing again.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This time though, they were sharing symptoms.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Irritability. Nonsensical speech. Irrational fear.
Confabulations and hallucinations.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So when Ursula ran out into the highway and jumped in front
of a speeding truck, it was only natural that Sabina would follow suit and dive
into the path of an oncoming car. A case of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Folie_%C3%A0_deux">emotional contagion</a> is the
explanation. Perhaps.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But that doesn’t explain how <a href="http://youtu.be/9-bIWm08eJc">the sisters not only survived the violent collisions but continued to viciously fight off rescuers until they were subdued by a half dozen police and bystanders</a>. Nor does it explain how
Sabina survived a 40’ jump from an overpass the next day after murdering a
sympathetic Samaritan.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sabina_Eriksson">Eriksson sisters</a>, the police, and the courts still
refuse comment.</span></div>
</div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-14210943613213228562013-08-26T00:08:00.000-05:002013-08-26T00:08:12.190-05:00Poetry in Motion<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6jvaRN_rhSXs7Fl9jRMA7C6-6zEr7FtEWrqYzzE9h0Z91YkT1Qfted4UDYsObqLoqHfwQ5Jkp-AYcHy11G84HtggP_02qiprB19BC5TaVizeJtXp-WGsBjO0DsGCoV1WxvBTqnu8UYga-/s1600/Jersey+Lilly+Roy+Bean+Langtry+Texas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6jvaRN_rhSXs7Fl9jRMA7C6-6zEr7FtEWrqYzzE9h0Z91YkT1Qfted4UDYsObqLoqHfwQ5Jkp-AYcHy11G84HtggP_02qiprB19BC5TaVizeJtXp-WGsBjO0DsGCoV1WxvBTqnu8UYga-/s200/Jersey+Lilly+Roy+Bean+Langtry+Texas.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A corpse was carted down Main Street of Langtry, Texas, and
deposited at the steps of the <a href="http://50statesorless.com/articles/35">Jersey Lilly Saloon and Court House</a>. The judge
stepped through the swinging doors and banged his Colt .45 like a gavel against
a whiskey barrel. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Hear ye, hear ye, court’s now in session!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He pointed to the dead body and asked one of the spectators
what had happened.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“The bridge collapsed on him, yer’onner.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The judge snorted and craned his crooked neck to examine the
still-warm corpse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What’s the defendant got in his pockets?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A quick search turned up $40 and a pistol.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The judge cleared his throat and began, “It is the judgment
of this court that you are hereby tried and convicted of illegally and
unlawfully committing certain grave offenses against the peace and dignity of
the State of Texas, particularly in my bailiwick. $40 payable to the court and
confiscation of the illegal weapon, next case!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Aristotle put forth in his <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poetics_(Aristotle)">Poetics</a> that poetry was ultimately
more important than history, myth more important than fact, because within it spiritual
and moral truths could be found. These are truths that inform and define, upon
which cultures and societies depend for their continued identity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Going by this philosophy and since official records weren’t
actually kept by the Justice of the Peace in Precinct 6, Pecos County, we can
feel morally safe in asserting that it occurred on February 25, 1883. Accurate
or not, the legends surrounding such bold and larger than life characters like
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roy_Bean">Judge Roy Bean </a>contributed to the American ethos, that exceptional identity which
propelled the expanding nation through a next half-century that had much of the
rest of the world reeling from amnesia. It would take but a few more years
before America began to show its own symptoms.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-23610927779469149392013-08-25T06:03:00.000-05:002013-09-30T04:36:29.875-05:00DWI*<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpIYJq_1fAk9g1h_lyrEXRD8t1nHwTp-LZEUYenwFVeDsJaz0fg1p6DcVuT2PkkylgtF0cjoCoHXMF4nt7mX0_TUTNUl8RN1cPSBuC5YO9M6T1Lf9HhM60JOh2h81StT-bBhQQWkH0waG/s1600/Charles+Robert+Jenkins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpIYJq_1fAk9g1h_lyrEXRD8t1nHwTp-LZEUYenwFVeDsJaz0fg1p6DcVuT2PkkylgtF0cjoCoHXMF4nt7mX0_TUTNUl8RN1cPSBuC5YO9M6T1Lf9HhM60JOh2h81StT-bBhQQWkH0waG/s200/Charles+Robert+Jenkins.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sergeant Jenkins was in a state of near-panic and he’d
already sucked down a six-pack before he even began patrol. His First Cavalry
Division was being asked to make riskier and riskier missions into the
Demilitarized Zone each week. If the North Koreans were the only threat, he
might have handled it better but there were rumors now that his unit was going
to soon be sent off to that expanding nightmare they called Vietnam. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When he reenlisted, he hadn’t counted on that. He just
wanted to be home now. Back in North Carolina. He had to find some way to get
back there. <em>Any way</em>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Each swallow of beer from that point onward fueled the frantic
conversation going on his brain. Finally, he decided he couldn’t argue with a
crazy mind; tonight would be the night. But he kept drinking to make sure his
brain wouldn’t back out the way his knees were trying to.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He popped <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>open his
tenth beer and he led a four-man team into the forest 2,000 yards from the
Military Demarcation Line. Their route was to take them within 500 yards of the
line before turning to parallel it, looking and listening for “gook” activity.
As they made the turn, Sergeant Jenkins raised his hand and halted his men.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I heard something… stay here while I check it out.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He walked through the trees and disappeared. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was a very surprised North Korean soldier that found him
with his white t-shirt tied to his M-14.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Robert_Jenkins#cite_note-7">Charles Robert Jenkins</a>’ (not-well-thought-out) plan of
finding his way to Moscow and being traded back to America in a prisoner exchange
didn’t exactly pan out. After *<em>Deserting While Intoxicated</em>, he wouldn’t be
permitted to leave the communist utopia of North Korea until July 9, 2004,
almost 40 years later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-20435298563971451092013-08-12T03:10:00.000-05:002013-08-12T03:10:20.332-05:00"This Man is Not a Nut"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXX1S81I5QjZymVGNfT6wFH-C9WZVldZmxRm4ED1fHGB1JqB4A3UxM_W2epOlgBHTLRyGsjaMfP6uYbYQiEvHfCMFTpcZ8jekczQVLOBSno5rZxbflgaXipy4XDRzcSbEFTGE6FN2u55yX/s1600/bat+bomb.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXX1S81I5QjZymVGNfT6wFH-C9WZVldZmxRm4ED1fHGB1JqB4A3UxM_W2epOlgBHTLRyGsjaMfP6uYbYQiEvHfCMFTpcZ8jekczQVLOBSno5rZxbflgaXipy4XDRzcSbEFTGE6FN2u55yX/s200/bat+bomb.png" width="156" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On December 15, 1943, a single B-25 Mitchell approached an
isolated Japanese village carrying a special payload, one that could strike
terror in the hearts of every man, woman, and child; a payload that could potentially
save a hundred thousand American lives; a payload that could eventually end the
war.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The bomber kept at a cruising speed of 230 mph, flying at 5,000’.
This particular plane was not made for the low and terrible strafing runs that
her sisters in the Solomon’s were to become famous for. She had no guns or
rockets and carried no torpedoes but just below its twin 14-cylinder air-cooled
radial engines were a pair of odd looking bombs. Each was about 5’ long and
punctuated with dozens of little vents.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When the plane reached its target, the navigator released
the bombs. They fell like any other bomb until they reached an altitude of 1000’.
And then they opened, and ten little crates popped out of the shell, each crate
releasing a small parachute that slowed their descent. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As they floated gently downward, a thousand Mexican
free-tail bats escaped from them and flew off towards the Japanese village, tucking
themselves into hard to reach corners and eaves of the highly-flammable paper
and wood structures. Thirty minutes later, the timers went off and the kerosene
incendiaries they carried around their necks ignited. The entire village was
engulfed in flames within minutes.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This secret project, which took place at a replica Japanese
village in a Utah army base, had all begun at the suggestion of Eleanor
Roosevelt’s dentist, <a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2011/04/old-weird-tech-the-bat-bombs-of-world-war-ii/237267/">Lytle Adams</a>. Her husband, the President, gave it the
go-ahead in a memo to the Army with a qualifier describing the dentist: “<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WDX9rRuHcn8">This man is NOT a nut.</a>”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The <a href="http://web.archive.org/web/20080531082803/http://www.afa.org/magazine/1990/1090bat.html">Bat Bomb</a> was eventually scrapped in favor of the nuclear
option.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-76667519044956754982013-08-11T06:09:00.000-05:002013-08-11T06:09:57.485-05:00Reach Out and Touch Someone<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlop04hdTUltgk2OfV58UBGeMk2qRmOlIXvmsJiYNsNLY7RDeVsuwZ0yUZPORW7HPoSg63abyvYKzGwAp8ZfcQI0-k2s8djK7Qg4CE_uXx3H9JfO6V7gW0EIMfbV0EtOdELvCL4HwLRrwZ/s1600/mojave+phone+booth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlop04hdTUltgk2OfV58UBGeMk2qRmOlIXvmsJiYNsNLY7RDeVsuwZ0yUZPORW7HPoSg63abyvYKzGwAp8ZfcQI0-k2s8djK7Qg4CE_uXx3H9JfO6V7gW0EIMfbV0EtOdELvCL4HwLRrwZ/s200/mojave+phone+booth.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A small dust devil formed as heat from the ground flew up
like a chimney into the morning cool. It danced its way between a maze of greasewoods,
erasing the little path of letter J’s left by a sidewinder rattler in search of
prey the night before. The Kangaroo Rat that had escaped from the rattler was
just closing the entrance to its burrow in hopes of a morning of promiscuity
with a few of the many females hiding below when the dust devil caught it by
surprise. The wind was strong enough to send it tumbling out a few feet into
the open ground.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As the vortex dissipated, a red-tail hawk flew overhead. The
exposed rodent had just opened its eyes when he saw the talons of the raptor
inches away. He jumped and the claws closed only on air. He hopped again and
again to avoid being eaten, randomly, like a locust, and he finally landed in some
cheat grass at the base of a gangly teddy bear cholla.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The cactus wren inside the cholla was not pleased and began
its characteristic complaining. The Kangaroo Rat scrambled out, hopped
marvelously again and hid behind a Joshua tree near the base of a cinder cone
that had been mined out 50 years ago.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And so it usually went, variations on this quiet theme since
time immemorial, with little disturbance here in the high desert. In the middle
of nowhere, with nature taking its course.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And then, one morning, a telephone rang and the silence was
broken.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next morning, it rang again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And it rang for 24 days.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On the 25<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> day, June 20, 1997, it rang again. This
time, someone answered it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The legend of <a href="http://www.deuceofclubs.com/moj/mojave1.htm">the most remote telephone booth in America</a>,
the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mojave_phone_booth">Mojave Phone Booth</a>, had begun.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-83967686640625558382013-08-05T04:47:00.000-05:002013-08-05T05:40:22.579-05:00God Save Us All From Good Intentions<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXL8VWC5vqJv3PZjtvSVA4B1hwHgGFfxErQsRo9b1_bdlfTmSrKqy-G8ErhmGWoPi_kKI0xAoyYss-2tE5F35-d3hwpvCgvm3sxXm-MEFNS4NB2dHkRFpTaVfAxn0i9ARv82ZCiV2N4G2t/s1600/BeastJesusRestorationSociety.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXL8VWC5vqJv3PZjtvSVA4B1hwHgGFfxErQsRo9b1_bdlfTmSrKqy-G8ErhmGWoPi_kKI0xAoyYss-2tE5F35-d3hwpvCgvm3sxXm-MEFNS4NB2dHkRFpTaVfAxn0i9ARv82ZCiV2N4G2t/s200/BeastJesusRestorationSociety.jpg" width="131" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">More than a thousand years of floods and the successive
lootings and pickings for other construction projects had left the once
spectacular <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mortuary_Temple_of_Amenhotep_III">mortuary temple of Amenhotep III</a> little more than a pile of stones.
All that was left intact were the twin colossi, each 60’ tall, which
stood lonely guard at the entrance of the ruins. For the most part, the statues
were ignored. Compared to the remaining structures at the Theban acropolis, and
the temple complexes of Luxor and Karnak across the Nile, it was a rather
unremarkable eyesore.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And then, sometime around February 5<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>, 27 BC it
became remarkable again. A small earthquake struck Egypt. It did little damage
to the southern statue but it cut the northern twin off at the waist and left a
deep crack through its base. Soon after, the statue became… ”talkative.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It didn’t always speak, but when it did, it would always be at
sunrise. And though it sounded more like the plucking of a lyre string than a
voice, word spread across the empire of <a href="http://passingstrangeness.wordpress.com/2009/09/12/the-voice-of-memnon/">the amazing vocal statue</a>. Strabo,
Pausanias, and Pliny all attested to its wonder. By the time that <a href="http://www.unrv.com/decline-of-empire/septimius-severus.php">Emperor Septimius Severus</a> arrived in 199 AD, the statue already had over a hundred bits of <a href="http://cdn3.vtourist.com/0/1993612-Colossi_of_Memnon-Luxor.jpg">Greek and Latin graffiti</a> carved into it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Severus had been advised to curry favor with the statue by his
wife, Julia Domna, the high-priestess of the temple of Elagabalus, the Syrian
sun-god. When it didn’t speak for him, he assumed the damaged condition of the
statue to be the reason. So he ordered his soldiers to “repair” it and <a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a0/Egypt.ColossiMemnon.01.jpg">five rows of stone blocks</a> were stacked upon it. It’s been mute ever since.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://io9.com/5938377/the-worst-art-restoration-mistakes-of-all-time">Art history is replete with the destructive effect of good intentions</a>, and gods, whether Amenhotep or <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ecce_Homo_(El%C3%ADas_Garc%C3%ADa_Mart%C3%ADnez)">Jesus</a>, are not immune.</span></div>
</div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-11353900145281310302013-07-21T04:44:00.001-05:002013-07-21T04:44:58.946-05:00Goodfellas? Bedfellas.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJgk2aTvgJzYEJx4aMjfv636ntdc6dBr9DrZuDV8-T0WX2CnLSnu1rmBtHKt4d_GRSpANTRA0Phgnj_r-bDTB3z5BYteKro8uG69cCWWE3dxjYDfVdR3qXTLPYuFtCnJdPBAymJL9i_ODT/s1600/Scarpa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJgk2aTvgJzYEJx4aMjfv636ntdc6dBr9DrZuDV8-T0WX2CnLSnu1rmBtHKt4d_GRSpANTRA0Phgnj_r-bDTB3z5BYteKro8uG69cCWWE3dxjYDfVdR3qXTLPYuFtCnJdPBAymJL9i_ODT/s200/Scarpa.jpg" width="128" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The one night he’d spent in the joint facing armed robbery
charges was life-changing. When Gregory walked out of jail on the 21st of
March, 1962, he was a new man. That wasn’t to say that he’d turned over a
new leaf and would walk the straight and narrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As a matter a fact, if anything, he would henceforth ply his trade with
even more élan. What changed that morning was his status, for a deal was made
with the devil. Just which side in the transaction played the role of Satan and
which side lost its soul has still proven to be ambiguous.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Over the next thirty years, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greg_Scarpa">Gregory Scarpa</a> “informed” - he informed
the FBI - of plans and crimes and conspiracies, of conversations and rumors and
goings-on among the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Five_Families">Five Families</a> of organized crime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gregory Scarpa also committed assault, supervised
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>bookmaking operations, hijacked trucks,
trafficked in cocaine, loan-sharked, stole mail, laundered money, ran credit
card scams, extorted, kidnapped, and tortured. And he personally murdered no
less than a dozen people. From that day in 1962 when he was first “turned” until
the very end of his long reign of terror in 1992, only when his behavior could
no longer be hidden, Scarpa had spent a total of 30 days in jail. He had been
known by other wise guys as <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/archive/1996/12/16/1996_12_16_068_TNY_CARDS_000377271?currentPage=all">the Grim Reaper</a>; as the man who’d leave 666 as his
calling card with his victims. And he’d collected over $150,000 in informant
fees from his “handlers” while he was being protected. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One is naturally led to ask the question, like concerned
citizen and freelance investigator <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2013/06/30/nyregion/the-mob-and-angela-clemente.html?pagewanted=3&_r=1&hp&pagewanted=all&">Angela Clemente</a> has done in a 300 page
report to the Justice Department: Which is worse, a mafia that operates outside
of the law or a government that knows no law?</span></div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-41266280486898688012013-07-15T04:09:00.000-05:002013-07-15T04:09:08.785-05:00Stubborn to Live, Stubborn to Die<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXMIzL2xEt6YUDgOgtKNn9HETPNrcARwdVa_n831YNBxVwp5ijTH14rIwY3U5pCn3iFGC7CyENyt6iEo9A4or2nvT9kYQodX5Zh1CCS5GfP2cW77sQiuRrx3JA_rqfadEDQnLmeUhZaPsc/s1600/hoffa+car+trunk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXMIzL2xEt6YUDgOgtKNn9HETPNrcARwdVa_n831YNBxVwp5ijTH14rIwY3U5pCn3iFGC7CyENyt6iEo9A4or2nvT9kYQodX5Zh1CCS5GfP2cW77sQiuRrx3JA_rqfadEDQnLmeUhZaPsc/s200/hoffa+car+trunk.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The West Branch Susquehanna River zigzags its way through
central Pennsylvania , passing to the east of the small community of Kelly
Township, about 170 miles west of Philadelphia. Cornfields patina the
countryside a brassy yellow, accentuating the thick boundaries of oak forests teeming
with deer and fox. Farming and hunting naturally dominate the local activities but
other than that there’s nothing to explain the unique group of men who’ve
called this out-of-the-way place home… except: the Lewisburg Federal
Penitentiary.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On December 23, 1971, a man walked out the doors of the prison
having served only five years of a thirteen year sentence thanks to a
Presidential pardon. At the time, he was already more well- known than some of
the men who’d occupied his cell-block before him – <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whitey_Bulger">Whitey Bulger</a>, <a href="http://www.threehundredwords.com/2009/06/procrustean-bed.html">Wilhelm Reich</a>,
and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alger_Hiss">Alger Hiss</a> – better known than any he served time with – <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Vario">Paul Vario</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Lee_Johnson_(spy)">RobertLee Johnson</a>, and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Gotti">John Gotti</a> – and even more infamous than those that would
follow – <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Hill">Henry Hill</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Wojtowicz">John Wojtowicz</a>, and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Hansen">Robert Hansen</a>. His fame, however, didn’t
help him “post-prison” and he met resistance in regaining the glory of his old
life, so three years later he began to write his autobiography.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And then he disappeared.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">His autobiography was published a few months later but it
didn’t include his obituary. That was to be written and rewritten over the
years by a countless parade of surmising G-men, deathbed thugs, and barstool theorists:
“Disintegrated in a fat-rendering plant… Mixed in the concrete below Giant’s
Stadium… Sealed in a drum in a toxic waste dump… Buried under the helipad at
the Sheraton Savannah Resort… Crushed in scrap-metal and shipped to Japan.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Etcetera. Etcetera.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Since <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jimmy_Hoffa">Jimmy Hoffa</a> mysteriously disappeared from a restaurant
near his Detroit home in 1975, he’s died <a href="http://www.trutv.com/library/crime/notorious_murders/famous/jimmy_hoffa/5.html">a thousand deaths</a>… <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/06/21/jimmy-hoffa-wood-chipper_n_3479372.html">and counting</a>, yet
refuses to die.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-15197633392059908622013-07-02T12:51:00.004-05:002013-07-02T12:51:47.525-05:00Hi Trina!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Welcome to Three Hundred Words and thanks for the "follow!" A new story to come this weekend!</div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-34077027812667684662013-06-23T23:48:00.000-05:002013-06-23T23:48:01.987-05:00"Therapy strongly recommended"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivisaOKL3wL4OIKmk7KvfFXRGvEKrYlpW-o505vJQimyR61pPCPzz5kJOChusxJuK-VOAO-Vdxi39CJr5kEBC3WPBOP7WeWynMWt6uyQmQcJ1xvao6QhNIzkfY_E2OqxnQ1zHRuaZ1pmnr/s1600/LHO6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivisaOKL3wL4OIKmk7KvfFXRGvEKrYlpW-o505vJQimyR61pPCPzz5kJOChusxJuK-VOAO-Vdxi39CJr5kEBC3WPBOP7WeWynMWt6uyQmQcJ1xvao6QhNIzkfY_E2OqxnQ1zHRuaZ1pmnr/s1600/LHO6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivisaOKL3wL4OIKmk7KvfFXRGvEKrYlpW-o505vJQimyR61pPCPzz5kJOChusxJuK-VOAO-Vdxi39CJr5kEBC3WPBOP7WeWynMWt6uyQmQcJ1xvao6QhNIzkfY_E2OqxnQ1zHRuaZ1pmnr/s200/LHO6.jpg" width="132" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Lee made sure to be out of bed early before his mother woke.
Her heavy white thigh peeking out from under the gown that had bunched around
her waist in the night was the last thing he saw before slipping past her open bedroom
door. Previously, it had made him nauseous seeing his mother like that,
especially when he’d been forced to sleep in bed with her, but not recently.
Now it only made him angry. He’d been released from the Youth House three days
ago. He hadn’t said more than two words to her since he came home.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Home…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">What a joke.</span></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Stupid psychiatrist…</span></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He ran up the stairs from the basement flat and out into the
dirty Bronx sunshine. The lively heat on his skin was a contradiction to the
coldness he was feeling beneath it and he continued running until he reached 183<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">rd</span></sup>
Street where he ducked behind a pillar and breathed in heavily the smoky shade
of the subway terminal.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was May 10<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>, 1953. Mother’s Day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He muttered to himself in a Texas accent as husbands and
children passed by, probably taking the moms out for their special day. Or to
church. Flowers and pretty hats and red lipstick and grotesque smiles.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m my own father… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>mother never gave a damn…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There were a dozen cigarette butts beneath Lee’s cowboy
boots when an elderly lady walked by, handing out pamphlets. He had no idea
what she was selling. On a whim, he reached out. He related to what he read.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Six years later, when a reporter in Moscow asked him what
prompted his embrace of Marxism and defection to the Soviet Union, <a href="http://jandersonthomson.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/10/Oswald.pdf">Lee HarveyOswald</a> responded, “I became interested about the age of 15, an old lady handed
me <a href="http://digital.library.pitt.edu/u/ulsmanuscripts/pdf/31735059397632.pdf">a pamphlet about saving the Rosenbergs</a>...”</span></div>
</div>
</div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-19306533460074430062013-06-23T23:33:00.001-05:002013-06-23T23:33:25.268-05:00Bem-vindo!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
...to <a href="https://plus.google.com/112886459957233847216/posts">Pedro</a>, and thanks for the "follow!"</div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-50853876336079977502013-06-16T04:21:00.000-05:002013-06-16T06:23:29.626-05:00If All You Have is a Hammer...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg29-y6-NwOogdJ-fT4PVOYMnuIqdvpom3kJqldnZIuBOA8SkWRrk7BNHqdYAJZuV6WjWfETGdir4wfLFKlJfKjZAA1wJpmW_qRwBRK7J6Afbzc3DUfcmcvO_fls4FQOdQCBwAfrGS1FoRc/s1600/hammer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg29-y6-NwOogdJ-fT4PVOYMnuIqdvpom3kJqldnZIuBOA8SkWRrk7BNHqdYAJZuV6WjWfETGdir4wfLFKlJfKjZAA1wJpmW_qRwBRK7J6Afbzc3DUfcmcvO_fls4FQOdQCBwAfrGS1FoRc/s200/hammer.jpg" width="151" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">An ashen-faced man stood on the curb at 1201 Pennsylvania
Avenue holding an umbrella. He scraped the frost from his watch to see that it was
nearly 10 pm. A late winter rain was beginning to fall.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A siren gave yelp from around the corner as red and blue streaks
splashed off the building’s shiny façade. A trio of Suburbans rolled up and the
passenger door of the middle vehicle opened and the man dove in. The motorcade roared
off, sirens blaring, leaving the man’s umbrella rolling in a puddle behind
them. It didn’t slow down until it reached the Emergency Entrance to George
Washington University Hospital some fifteen blocks away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A few minutes later, another motorcade departed a mere four
blocks west of the previous one. It too double-parked at the hospital and two
men dashed inside. With jaws locked and fists clenched, the groups came face to
face at a feeble patient’s bed-side. After a few tense minutes of threats and
pointed fingers, Andrew Card and Alberto Gonzales departed, defeated.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The bed-ridden man in the middle of the commotion was </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Ashcroft"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: Calibri;">John Ashcroft</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">, US Attorney
General, awaiting surgery for pancreatitis. Behind him was </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Comey"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: Calibri;">James Comey</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">acting</i> Attorney General while Ashcroft
was incapacitated, and<span style="color: #3d85c6;"> </span></span><a href="http://thelede.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/05/15/comey-details-wiretapping-meeting/"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: Calibri;">he’d
just heroically refused to give the Justice Department’s assent</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> to the
President’s 2004 </span><a href="http://www.christopherketcham.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/The%20Last%20Roundup,%20Radar%20Magazine.pdf"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: Calibri;">eaves-dropping
initiative</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> amid constitutional concerns.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Heroics though, are short-lived.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Laws were “adjusted.” And after a private White House
meeting, Comey dropped his concerns. His ensuing private career was a charmed
one and he was even considered for the Supreme Court before being nominated as head
of the FBI. Incidentally, </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alberto_Gonzales"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: Calibri;">Alberto Gonzales</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> quickly
replaced Ashcroft…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">By June 6, 2013, the 64<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> anniversary of </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nineteen_Eighty-Four"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: Calibri;">Orwell’s warning</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">, </span><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2013/jun/06/us-tech-giants-nsa-data"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: Calibri;">word
had leaked</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> that the question of </span><a href="http://news.cnet.com/8301-13578_3-57589495-38/nsa-admits-listening-to-u.s-phone-calls-without-warrants/"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: Calibri;">the
warrantless wire-tapping of every American citizen was now beyond debate</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-86748849850998290922013-06-01T03:26:00.004-05:002013-06-01T03:26:38.133-05:00Welcome: 101<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Thanks to the latest follower, <a href="http://nuha-amin.blogspot.com/">Nuha Amin</a>!</div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-57458208657809041532013-05-26T01:55:00.000-05:002013-05-26T01:55:09.234-05:00The Good Son<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk_wjYNu-oUQFY4mWJPo7l3hD6hsFB9ZYV0MjVHr5l3VBjyIjgKcOqGSzjNlaZ64HwJZtaTqejFBIYZWE70jFdCay_uSdXTRTYH-pl_Iz_6qrCu-jACgN_d5jhsAwA89p5uIJcBp97qeHR/s1600/columbo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk_wjYNu-oUQFY4mWJPo7l3hD6hsFB9ZYV0MjVHr5l3VBjyIjgKcOqGSzjNlaZ64HwJZtaTqejFBIYZWE70jFdCay_uSdXTRTYH-pl_Iz_6qrCu-jACgN_d5jhsAwA89p5uIJcBp97qeHR/s200/columbo.jpg" width="154" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On May 12, 1935, Giulia was being served up the queen’s
treatment: a surprise breakfast in bed and now, surrounded by flowers and
candies, she leaned back with her feet propped up on a fluffy ottoman in the
parlor of her lovely Los Angeles home.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Her doorway was abuzz with activity. Friends and neighbors were
dropping in with presents in their arms and kisses on their lips. And her
children were arriving one by one. Soon, seven of them would be there. This
Mother’s Day had almost not happened and everyone was making sure it was a
special one for her. Her heart attack last September had left her weak and ruined
her sight and hearing and they were sure that the only thing keeping her going was
the love she had for her family. Especially her baby. He’d always taken care of
his mama like nobody else. He never forgot her. She was so proud of him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Nicola,” she called out to her husband, “Is my bambino here
yet?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Nicola approached her from behind and placed one hand on her
shoulder and crossed himself with the other. His eyes watered at the mention of
their son.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Cucciola mia… I’m sorry. Russ called earlier... He’s still making
that picture in England but sends his love.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Giulia sighed softly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Maybe for Christmas…”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But Russ wouldn’t make it home that Christmas. Or the next. Popular
singer and actor <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Russ_Columbo">Russ Columbo</a> had <a href="http://news.google.com/newspapers?id=2vUtAAAAIBAJ&sjid=R9UFAAAAIBAJ&pg=6031,2312618&dq=russ+columbo&hl=en">died in a freak accident</a> while Giulia was
still recovering in the hospital from her heart attack. Afraid that the news
would kill her, her family decided to keep it a secret. Russ would be forevermore
on “an extended European trip.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ten years on, Giulia still hadn’t seen her son, but her dying
words were "<a href="http://news.google.com/newspapers?id=GkQyAAAAIBAJ&sjid=E-gFAAAAIBAJ&pg=2527,6619221&dq=russ+columbo&hl=en">Tell Russ I am so proud...</a>"<o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-77802152682574179462013-05-20T03:08:00.000-05:002013-05-20T03:08:16.592-05:00The Last Fairy in Ireland<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMOqMNEGwxPzJ4dn6L-_IyhC1hgHxhVfYsyVmbtPbYIjV5UKRwUxwytGnteabOOWyoKFKMSFFPLIBZshEc5Cq3xuQnl8WS2lKNSjBJXG8mKzSzGgjZJbeJpmChoYVGlrO3Qfef-YUQaUld/s1600/The_Shining.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMOqMNEGwxPzJ4dn6L-_IyhC1hgHxhVfYsyVmbtPbYIjV5UKRwUxwytGnteabOOWyoKFKMSFFPLIBZshEc5Cq3xuQnl8WS2lKNSjBJXG8mKzSzGgjZJbeJpmChoYVGlrO3Qfef-YUQaUld/s200/The_Shining.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On March 18, 1895, in County Tipperary, Ireland, two
miserable figures sat on a limestone wall.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Michael’s twisted face told the tale. He was living in a
fog, on the verge of collapsing. He’d not eaten well nor had proper sleep in 14
days. Since his wife had fallen ill. Or rather, since she’d been exchanged for
that… <em>thing</em>… that had occupied her bed. He’d made daily four mile treks through
the snow and rain and cold only to find the doctor not at home. And when the
doctor did at last call upon his door, he was drunk and dismissive. When he
walked four miles in the other direction to find Father Ryan, he at least did
come to administer the Anointing but he refused to return again. No matter. By
that time, he was sure that the <em><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shanachie">Seanchaidhe</a></em> was right. It was <em>not</em> pneumonia and
that was <em>not</em> Bridget. The sudden unexpected flippancy of the beast was what
finally led to his decisive actions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But the question still nagged him: why hadn’t it flown up
the chimney?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In his peripheral vision, he could see his friend nodding
off.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Look alive, Jack,” Michael said. “This be the third night,
you still think the procession will pass by the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ring_fort">ringfort</a>?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jack sat up straight. “In the name of God, Michael, I do!
Look for the white horse. You cut the reins as it passes by and your wife will
be freed. The white horse, Michael…”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Four days later, the burnt mangled body of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bridget_Cleary">Bridget Cleary</a>
was found in a shallow grave a half mile away. Even as he was being arrested,
Michael swore that it wasn’t his wife. <a href="http://www.controverscial.com/Fairy%20Witch%20of%20Clonmel.htm">It was a fairy</a>. He’d only tortured and
burned the changeling in order <a href="http://query.nytimes.com/mem/archive-free/pdf?_r=1&res=9C02E2DA133DE433A25751C2A9629C94649ED7CF">to get his beloved back</a>. Why couldn’t they
understand?</span></div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-82299578275797145302013-05-18T20:16:00.004-05:002013-05-20T03:17:37.287-05:00Three New Welcomes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
...makes it an even 100! Thanks for the "follows" from Salima, <a href="http://auntagony78.blogspot.com/">Amira</a>, and <a href="http://homeawayfromhomemade.blogspot.com/">Bella</a>. I'm hoping to have a worthy story up tonight, or if not, then tomorrow!</div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-1556479987315409762013-04-22T01:14:00.000-05:002013-04-22T01:14:24.721-05:00Back with More in May<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtZhw1lp8r6rYRaHuRl5nf5P6Qp_hjEy3xzWQZB7-sYYpnzTh4XH5WzJo8KD8k5WvzQhhh_zDt2xUIoIIhyphenhyphenwcfN8Ii1iu2_i4wtiO6K3SzT7FMpFcBJBNlGIvpScb_kI6-vEgUBQdQlhmP/s1600/FatDirtyObie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtZhw1lp8r6rYRaHuRl5nf5P6Qp_hjEy3xzWQZB7-sYYpnzTh4XH5WzJo8KD8k5WvzQhhh_zDt2xUIoIIhyphenhyphenwcfN8Ii1iu2_i4wtiO6K3SzT7FMpFcBJBNlGIvpScb_kI6-vEgUBQdQlhmP/s400/FatDirtyObie.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div align="center">
</div>
<div align="center">
...just one more nap though :)</div>
</div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-38212053323347062732012-12-24T00:18:00.001-06:002012-12-24T00:18:21.462-06:00A Very Happy Christmas to You All<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgaiSumOP-djuikA4hLyghhk4Wg9KIprt_e34sjOf7HkpKLMKTJ_Mv5CGU4jYQvnXW-5CMzsynGj5c6sDnemYQCBZL0mPUzuAhe4UY_sa-DsO2YYiw35COghqgOaqMX9P81p4GxLE6z6Go/s1600/ItsAWondrflLife_146Pyxurz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgaiSumOP-djuikA4hLyghhk4Wg9KIprt_e34sjOf7HkpKLMKTJ_Mv5CGU4jYQvnXW-5CMzsynGj5c6sDnemYQCBZL0mPUzuAhe4UY_sa-DsO2YYiw35COghqgOaqMX9P81p4GxLE6z6Go/s400/ItsAWondrflLife_146Pyxurz.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781329426295611964.post-74476992975364063092012-12-23T03:32:00.000-06:002012-12-23T03:32:04.297-06:00Praefigurare<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz8at1aZyi4T-KqMA2sDgvuV0ZXa_uSQHjaqGdy8aAyEpgtp7r6dnK7fyNUztfZwYReBoOxtNTP5WYtZuWGHUrEmyl8W2fws7yHviUTV3C-jGcawZuIINFI3FA6LE5loqrG6sLXdEvvW3W/s1600/simone+and+andre+weil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz8at1aZyi4T-KqMA2sDgvuV0ZXa_uSQHjaqGdy8aAyEpgtp7r6dnK7fyNUztfZwYReBoOxtNTP5WYtZuWGHUrEmyl8W2fws7yHviUTV3C-jGcawZuIINFI3FA6LE5loqrG6sLXdEvvW3W/s200/simone+and+andre+weil.jpg" width="156" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On December 5, 1916, two children – a ten year old boy and a
girl of seven – crouched in the gutter in front of 37 boulevard Saint-Michel in
Paris, an icy wind whipping their scarves and mussing their straggly hair. The
boy held out a cap while the girl moaned to passing strangers, “Please! Give us
anything! Or take us home and feed us!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One passer-by stopped and shared a bag of peppermints.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Oh, thank you! You’ve saved our lives,” the children cried,
“Our parents give us nothing but paper to eat!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You poor creatures! And with no socks on!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At that moment, the door opened behind the two children and
a nicely dressed woman stepped outside in a warm winter coat. She looked down
at the two children in the gutter and shook her head.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What are you two doing out here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The children, teeth chattering, looked meekly up and then back
to the kindly woman who’d given them the peppermints. Suddenly, they leaped to
their feet and bolted behind the woman and in through the door, giggling their way
up the stairs.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Those are my children, I apologize if they were bo-,” but
her words were cut off by a slap to the face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You wretch! How could you? Not dressing them for the cold! Making
them eat paper!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Shocked, and yet not surprised, the mother turned and made
her way back inside to find her mischievous children. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The “poor children” pranks were always planned by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andre_weil">Andre</a> but
he soon found other ways to occupy his time and grew to become one of the
mathematical geniuses of the 20<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> century.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simone_Weil">Simone Weil</a>’s part in the pranks, however, was a
foreshadowing of the voluntary suffering she would partake in as philosopher
and mystic for the remainder of her short life.</span></div>
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cyurkaninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10544849696034906766noreply@blogger.com4