”If you are a non-Christian Arab or Muslim, I will not teach you the class; I am Crockett Keller, thank you and God bless America.”
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Saying It Like It Is
Saw this over at American and Proud
Sunday Morning Reads
Luck ~ Mark Twain
[NOTE.--This is not a fancy sketch. I got it from a clergyman who was an instructor at the Woolwich military school forty years ago, and who vouched for its truth. --M.T.]
It was at a banquet in London in honor of one of the two or three prominent illustrious English military names of this generation. For reasons which will presently appear, I will withhold his real name and titles, and call him Lieutenant-General Lord Arthur Scoresby, V.C., K.C.B., etc., etc., etc. What a fascination there is in a renowned name! There say the man, in actual flesh, whom I had heard of so many thousands of times since that day, thirty years before, when his name shot suddenly to the zenith from a Crimean battle-field, to remain for ever celebrated.
It was food and drink to me to look, and look, and look at that demigod; scanning, searching, noting: the quietness, the reserve, the noble gravity of his countenance; the simple honesty that expressed itself all over him; the sweet unconsciousness of his greatness--unconsciousness of the hundreds of admiring eyes fastened upon him, unconsciousness of the deep, loving, sincere worship welling out of the breasts of those people and flowing toward him.
The clergyman at my left was an old acquaintance of mine--clergyman now, but had spent the first half of his life in the camp and field, and as an instructor in the military school at Woolwich. Just at the moment I have been talking about, a veiled and singular light glimmered in his eyes, and he leaned down and muttered confidentially to me--indicating the hero of the banquet with a gesture,--'Privately--his glory is an accident --just a product of incredible luck.'
This verdict was a great surprise to me. If its subject had been Napoleon, or Socrates, or Solomon, my astonishment could not have been greater.
Some days later came the explanation of this strange remark, and this is what the Reverend told me.
About forty years ago I was an instructor in the military academy at Woolwich. I was present in one of the sections when young Scoresby underwent his preliminary examination. I was touched to the quick with pity; for the rest of the class answered up brightly and handsomely, while he--why, dear me, he didn't know anything, so to speak. He was evidently good, and sweet, and lovable, and guileless; and so it was exceedingly painful to see him stand there, as serene as a graven image, and deliver himself of answers which were veritably miraculous for stupidity and ignorance. All the compassion in me was aroused in his behalf. I said to myself, when he comes to be examined again, he will be flung over, of course; so it will be simple a harmless act of charity to ease his fall as much as I can.
I took him aside, and found that he knew a little of Caesar's history; and as he didn't know anything else, I went to work and drilled him like a galley-slave on a certain line of stock questions concerning Caesar which I knew would be used. If you'll believe me, he went through with flying colors on examination day! He went through on that purely superficial 'cram', and got compliments, too, while others, who knew a thousand times more than he, got plucked. By some strangely lucky accident--an accident not likely to happen twice in a century--he was asked no question outside of the narrow limits of his drill.
It was stupefying. Well, although through his course I stood by him, with something of the sentiment which a mother feels for a crippled child; and he always saved himself--just by miracle, apparently.
Now of course the thing that would expose him and kill him at last was mathematics. I resolved to make his death as easy as I could; so I drilled him and crammed him, and crammed him and drilled him, just on the line of questions which the examiner would be most likely to use, and then launched him on his fate. Well, sir, try to conceive of the result: to my consternation, he took the first prize! And with it he got a perfect ovation in the way of compliments.
Sleep! There was no more sleep for me for a week. My conscience tortured me day and night. What I had done I had done purely through charity, and only to ease the poor youth's fall--I never had dreamed of any such preposterous result as the thing that had happened. I felt as guilty and miserable as the creator of Frankenstein. Here was a wooden-head whom I had put in the way of glittering promotions and prodigious responsibilities, and but one thing could happen: he and his responsibilities would all go to ruin together at the first opportunity.
The Crimean war had just broken out. Of course there had to be a war, I said to myself: we couldn't have peace and give this donkey a chance to die before he is found out. I waited for the earthquake. It came. And it made me reel when it did come. He was actually appointed to a captaincy in a marching regiment! Better men grow old and gray in the service before they climb to a sublimity like that. And who could ever have foreseen that they would go and put such a load of responsibility on such green and inadequate shoulders? I could just barely have stood it if they had made him an ensign; but a captain--think of it! I thought my hair would turn white.
Consider what I did--I who so loved repose and inaction. I said to myself, I am responsible to the country for this, and I must go along with him and protect the country against him as far as I can. So I took my poor little capital that I had saved up through years of work and grinding economy, and went with a sigh and bought an ensignship in his regiment, and away we went to the field.
And there--oh dear, it was awful. Blunders? Why, he never did anything but blunder. But, you see, nobody was in the fellow's secret—everybody had him focused wrong, and necessarily misinterpreted his performance every time--consequently they took his idiotic blunders for inspirations of genius; they did honestly! His mildest blunders were enough to make a man in his right mind cry; and they did make me cry--and rage and rave too, privately. And the thing that kept me always in a sweat of apprehension was the fact that every fresh blunder he made increased the luster of his reputation! I kept saying to myself, he'll get so high that when discovery does finally come it will be like the sun falling out of the sky.
He went right along up, from grade to grade, over the dead bodies of his superiors, until at last, in the hottest moment of the battle of... down went our colonel, and my heart jumped into my mouth, for Scoresby was next in rank! Now for it, said I; we'll all land in Sheol in ten minutes, sure.
The battle was awfully hot; the allies were steadily giving way all over the field. Our regiment occupied a position that was vital; a blunder now must be destruction. At this critical moment, what does this immortal fool do but detach the regiment from its place and order a charge over a neighboring hill where there wasn't a suggestion of an enemy! 'There you go!' I said to myself; 'this is the end at last.'
And away we did go, and were over the shoulder of the hill before the insane movement could be discovered and stopped. And what did we find? An entire and unsuspected Russian army in reserve! And what happened? We were eaten up? That is necessarily what would have happened in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. But no; those Russians argued that no single regiment would come browsing around there at such a time. It must be the entire English army, and that the sly Russian game was detected and blocked; so they turned tail, and away they went, pell-mell, over the hill and down into the field, in wild confusion, and we after them; they themselves broke the solid Russia centre in the field, and tore through, and in no time there was the most tremendous rout you ever saw, and the defeat of the allies was turned into a sweeping and splendid victory! Marshal Canrobert looked on, dizzy with astonishment, admiration, and delight; and sent right off for Scoresby, and hugged him, and decorated him on the field in presence of all the armies!
And what was Scoresby's blunder that time? Merely the mistaking his right hand for his left--that was all. An order had come to him to fall back and support our right; and instead he fell forward and went over the hill to the left. But the name he won that day as a marvelous military genius filled the world with his glory, and that glory will never fade while history books last.
He is just as good and sweet and lovable and unpretending as a man can be, but he doesn't know enough to come in when it rains. He has been pursued, day by day and year by year, by a most phenomenal and astonishing luckiness. He has been a shining soldier in all our wars for half a generation; he has littered his military life with blunders, and yet has never committed one that didn't make him a knight or a baronet or a lord or something. Look at his breast; why, he is just clothed in domestic and foreign decorations. Well, sir, every one of them is a record of some shouting stupidity or other; and, taken together, they are proof that the very best thing in all this world that can befall a man is to be born lucky.
Is it not great to be American ~ Enjoy
[NOTE.--This is not a fancy sketch. I got it from a clergyman who was an instructor at the Woolwich military school forty years ago, and who vouched for its truth. --M.T.]
It was at a banquet in London in honor of one of the two or three prominent illustrious English military names of this generation. For reasons which will presently appear, I will withhold his real name and titles, and call him Lieutenant-General Lord Arthur Scoresby, V.C., K.C.B., etc., etc., etc. What a fascination there is in a renowned name! There say the man, in actual flesh, whom I had heard of so many thousands of times since that day, thirty years before, when his name shot suddenly to the zenith from a Crimean battle-field, to remain for ever celebrated.
It was food and drink to me to look, and look, and look at that demigod; scanning, searching, noting: the quietness, the reserve, the noble gravity of his countenance; the simple honesty that expressed itself all over him; the sweet unconsciousness of his greatness--unconsciousness of the hundreds of admiring eyes fastened upon him, unconsciousness of the deep, loving, sincere worship welling out of the breasts of those people and flowing toward him.
The clergyman at my left was an old acquaintance of mine--clergyman now, but had spent the first half of his life in the camp and field, and as an instructor in the military school at Woolwich. Just at the moment I have been talking about, a veiled and singular light glimmered in his eyes, and he leaned down and muttered confidentially to me--indicating the hero of the banquet with a gesture,--'Privately--his glory is an accident --just a product of incredible luck.'
This verdict was a great surprise to me. If its subject had been Napoleon, or Socrates, or Solomon, my astonishment could not have been greater.
Some days later came the explanation of this strange remark, and this is what the Reverend told me.
About forty years ago I was an instructor in the military academy at Woolwich. I was present in one of the sections when young Scoresby underwent his preliminary examination. I was touched to the quick with pity; for the rest of the class answered up brightly and handsomely, while he--why, dear me, he didn't know anything, so to speak. He was evidently good, and sweet, and lovable, and guileless; and so it was exceedingly painful to see him stand there, as serene as a graven image, and deliver himself of answers which were veritably miraculous for stupidity and ignorance. All the compassion in me was aroused in his behalf. I said to myself, when he comes to be examined again, he will be flung over, of course; so it will be simple a harmless act of charity to ease his fall as much as I can.
I took him aside, and found that he knew a little of Caesar's history; and as he didn't know anything else, I went to work and drilled him like a galley-slave on a certain line of stock questions concerning Caesar which I knew would be used. If you'll believe me, he went through with flying colors on examination day! He went through on that purely superficial 'cram', and got compliments, too, while others, who knew a thousand times more than he, got plucked. By some strangely lucky accident--an accident not likely to happen twice in a century--he was asked no question outside of the narrow limits of his drill.
It was stupefying. Well, although through his course I stood by him, with something of the sentiment which a mother feels for a crippled child; and he always saved himself--just by miracle, apparently.
Now of course the thing that would expose him and kill him at last was mathematics. I resolved to make his death as easy as I could; so I drilled him and crammed him, and crammed him and drilled him, just on the line of questions which the examiner would be most likely to use, and then launched him on his fate. Well, sir, try to conceive of the result: to my consternation, he took the first prize! And with it he got a perfect ovation in the way of compliments.
Sleep! There was no more sleep for me for a week. My conscience tortured me day and night. What I had done I had done purely through charity, and only to ease the poor youth's fall--I never had dreamed of any such preposterous result as the thing that had happened. I felt as guilty and miserable as the creator of Frankenstein. Here was a wooden-head whom I had put in the way of glittering promotions and prodigious responsibilities, and but one thing could happen: he and his responsibilities would all go to ruin together at the first opportunity.
The Crimean war had just broken out. Of course there had to be a war, I said to myself: we couldn't have peace and give this donkey a chance to die before he is found out. I waited for the earthquake. It came. And it made me reel when it did come. He was actually appointed to a captaincy in a marching regiment! Better men grow old and gray in the service before they climb to a sublimity like that. And who could ever have foreseen that they would go and put such a load of responsibility on such green and inadequate shoulders? I could just barely have stood it if they had made him an ensign; but a captain--think of it! I thought my hair would turn white.
Consider what I did--I who so loved repose and inaction. I said to myself, I am responsible to the country for this, and I must go along with him and protect the country against him as far as I can. So I took my poor little capital that I had saved up through years of work and grinding economy, and went with a sigh and bought an ensignship in his regiment, and away we went to the field.
And there--oh dear, it was awful. Blunders? Why, he never did anything but blunder. But, you see, nobody was in the fellow's secret—everybody had him focused wrong, and necessarily misinterpreted his performance every time--consequently they took his idiotic blunders for inspirations of genius; they did honestly! His mildest blunders were enough to make a man in his right mind cry; and they did make me cry--and rage and rave too, privately. And the thing that kept me always in a sweat of apprehension was the fact that every fresh blunder he made increased the luster of his reputation! I kept saying to myself, he'll get so high that when discovery does finally come it will be like the sun falling out of the sky.
He went right along up, from grade to grade, over the dead bodies of his superiors, until at last, in the hottest moment of the battle of... down went our colonel, and my heart jumped into my mouth, for Scoresby was next in rank! Now for it, said I; we'll all land in Sheol in ten minutes, sure.
The battle was awfully hot; the allies were steadily giving way all over the field. Our regiment occupied a position that was vital; a blunder now must be destruction. At this critical moment, what does this immortal fool do but detach the regiment from its place and order a charge over a neighboring hill where there wasn't a suggestion of an enemy! 'There you go!' I said to myself; 'this is the end at last.'
And away we did go, and were over the shoulder of the hill before the insane movement could be discovered and stopped. And what did we find? An entire and unsuspected Russian army in reserve! And what happened? We were eaten up? That is necessarily what would have happened in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. But no; those Russians argued that no single regiment would come browsing around there at such a time. It must be the entire English army, and that the sly Russian game was detected and blocked; so they turned tail, and away they went, pell-mell, over the hill and down into the field, in wild confusion, and we after them; they themselves broke the solid Russia centre in the field, and tore through, and in no time there was the most tremendous rout you ever saw, and the defeat of the allies was turned into a sweeping and splendid victory! Marshal Canrobert looked on, dizzy with astonishment, admiration, and delight; and sent right off for Scoresby, and hugged him, and decorated him on the field in presence of all the armies!
And what was Scoresby's blunder that time? Merely the mistaking his right hand for his left--that was all. An order had come to him to fall back and support our right; and instead he fell forward and went over the hill to the left. But the name he won that day as a marvelous military genius filled the world with his glory, and that glory will never fade while history books last.
He is just as good and sweet and lovable and unpretending as a man can be, but he doesn't know enough to come in when it rains. He has been pursued, day by day and year by year, by a most phenomenal and astonishing luckiness. He has been a shining soldier in all our wars for half a generation; he has littered his military life with blunders, and yet has never committed one that didn't make him a knight or a baronet or a lord or something. Look at his breast; why, he is just clothed in domestic and foreign decorations. Well, sir, every one of them is a record of some shouting stupidity or other; and, taken together, they are proof that the very best thing in all this world that can befall a man is to be born lucky.
Is it not great to be American ~ Enjoy
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Overnight Comments Edition
I got this from the comments overnight from a person in Brooklyn NY. I'm gonna do my best to break it down for the 2 or 3 folks that drop by regularly. I've been unaccustomed to receiving comments until recently. I know I offend the occassional passerby now and then. This is different. I'm going to go out on a limb here, based soley on the content of the comment, I'll do my best to classify.
Female ... Why You ask? Because of the way she moves around the issues. My sister does the same thing. "Hahvaad" dontcha know.
Liberal
Approximately 24-25 years old
Educated, Undergrad probably.
Possibly not bad looking in a dark room.
and She's darn well fed up with being ignored at OWS
Anonymous said...
Here goes ...
Dear Anonymous,
Thanks for stopping by. I don't get many comments here at TRW and since all your comments belong to me now, I'll respond by saying I get current events from a wide variety of news sources not just Fox. You should know that when you watch cBSnooz for instance, that tripe is really old. Its been done to death for 2 - 3 days already in the blogosphere. I see you have trouble with the proper use of the word there as well. Moving on ... There are people here in America that truly love this country. They served their country willingly, faithfully and would do so again if asked. They work hard to raise their families among other notable qualities, We call them Patriots because thats what they are. That's the difference right there. One side you have a group of people that serve, and on the other you have a group of people that take. I can't make it any clearer than that. Lazy, Nasty, Bums you mention but forgot lying, thieving, deviant sexual predators. It would take more than the Tea Party to legitimize the OWS movement and that just aint going to happen. Not in your wildest dreams. BTW ... The Tea Party has not been hijacked. Every single RINO still left in Congress is gone in 2012 along with as many socialist party members and the SCOAMF. Seriously, do you have to demonize Sarah Palin everywhere. I know why you do this. I know why they hate her. She's a regular person just like the rest of us Tea Party folks and you just cannot stand it.
Learn how to serve then join us.
SCOAMF - I was number one on Google earlier today using this search string. Doesn't that just make you all warm inside?
Female ... Why You ask? Because of the way she moves around the issues. My sister does the same thing. "Hahvaad" dontcha know.
Liberal
Approximately 24-25 years old
Educated, Undergrad probably.
Possibly not bad looking in a dark room.
and She's darn well fed up with being ignored at OWS
Anonymous said...
You people that watch Fox News relentlessly are getting played by the rich masters that run that station, their worst nightmare would be for the original tea party people to get together with these young people, I know they call them bums, lazy, nasty whatever but they are a threat to them. First of all their are all kinds of people in that movement, older, working people all kinds who see where this country is going and decided to do something about it. Second, the majority of these people are not Obama supporters they know that he is part of the problem, they just have enough sense to know that the GOP ain't any better. The original Tea Party was hijacked by the republic an party, Sarah Palin a paid GOP shrill took it to a new level, believe it or not their are a lot of people from the original Tea Party the despise Sarah Palin.
SCOAMF - an acronym for President Obama popularized by child molesters.
Here goes ...
Dear Anonymous,
Thanks for stopping by. I don't get many comments here at TRW and since all your comments belong to me now, I'll respond by saying I get current events from a wide variety of news sources not just Fox. You should know that when you watch cBSnooz for instance, that tripe is really old. Its been done to death for 2 - 3 days already in the blogosphere. I see you have trouble with the proper use of the word there as well. Moving on ... There are people here in America that truly love this country. They served their country willingly, faithfully and would do so again if asked. They work hard to raise their families among other notable qualities, We call them Patriots because thats what they are. That's the difference right there. One side you have a group of people that serve, and on the other you have a group of people that take. I can't make it any clearer than that. Lazy, Nasty, Bums you mention but forgot lying, thieving, deviant sexual predators. It would take more than the Tea Party to legitimize the OWS movement and that just aint going to happen. Not in your wildest dreams. BTW ... The Tea Party has not been hijacked. Every single RINO still left in Congress is gone in 2012 along with as many socialist party members and the SCOAMF. Seriously, do you have to demonize Sarah Palin everywhere. I know why you do this. I know why they hate her. She's a regular person just like the rest of us Tea Party folks and you just cannot stand it.
Learn how to serve then join us.
SCOAMF - I was number one on Google earlier today using this search string. Doesn't that just make you all warm inside?
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
SCOAMF: ‘Occupy Wall Street Not That Different From Tea Party’
via The POH Diaries
Is it me or does this guy come down on the wrong side of every issue?
Previously ... The Tea Party and here ... ZOMG LOOKOUT!
“In some ways, they’re not that different from some of the protests that we saw coming from the Tea Party. Both on the left and the right, I think people feel separated from their government. They feel that their institutions aren’t looking out for them,” he said.
Is it me or does this guy come down on the wrong side of every issue?
Previously ... The Tea Party and here ... ZOMG LOOKOUT!
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
I was thinking the same thing
via insty
Actually it seemed like Mr. Gregory was purposely trying to misunderstand the difference between state and federal taxes. You can do that ... if you really need to make short your opponents point or if you just want to make yourself look silly on national TV
SO LOTS OF PEOPLE ARE TALKING ABOUT HERMAN CAIN ON MEET THE PRESS, but what I noticed is that David Gregory doesn’t seem to understand the difference between state taxes and federal taxes.
Actually it seemed like Mr. Gregory was purposely trying to misunderstand the difference between state and federal taxes. You can do that ... if you really need to make short your opponents point or if you just want to make yourself look silly on national TV
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Busted: Illegal Use of a Left Turn Signal
Was out early this AM getting milk at the grocery. Got pulled over by SD's finest on the way home. Illegal Use Of a Left Turn Signal.
Really?
There was a pair of them. One ran the plates while the other strolled back to the crusier with my license. When he came back he asked me why I didn't turn left ... Honestly ... I said "I didn't want you guys directly up my backside". He handed my license back and told me to have a nice day. Thanks for that.
Really?
There was a pair of them. One ran the plates while the other strolled back to the crusier with my license. When he came back he asked me why I didn't turn left ... Honestly ... I said "I didn't want you guys directly up my backside". He handed my license back and told me to have a nice day. Thanks for that.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
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