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zap2it.comdan savage, bullying and the truth about gays and the biblehuffington post - 42 minutes agodan savage, bullying and the truth about gays and the bible... walked out of dan's speech the moment he began talking about the parts of the ...
Martin Sheen is a devout Catholic, not an atheist.
Oops! Sorry, was referring to the earlier post:
That liberal atheist actor persecuted that Christian actress by saying she belonged to the "Ignorant Tight-Ass Club"!
Actually, Sheen is pretty tight-ass himself.
Wait, Bizzy Bee is married to Martin Sheen?
Nope, just spent an evening in his company years ago.
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zap2it.comdan savage, bullying and the truth about gays and the biblehuffington post - 42 minutes agodan savage, bullying and the truth about gays and the bible... walked out of dan's speech the moment he began talking about the parts of the ...
Just think, if you were living in some war-torn third world country, dodging bullets, you'd be happy with some watered down rice and a handfull of grass.
It's all relative.
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zap2it.comdan savage, bullying and the truth about gays and the biblehuffington post - 42 minutes agodan savage, bullying and the truth about gays and the bible... walked out of dan's speech the moment he began talking about the parts of the ...
the Bible-thumpers that walked out
These kids were programmed, not walking out because of some offense to their "ethical conscience," just as we JW born-ins stood up in grade school to make an issue out of not saluting the flag. And we, at the age of 6, knew hell-all about the actual issue. Just as these kids are immune to the actual reasoning that was being presented to them. Having nothing to do with hearing the word "bullshit" - ten to one they've heard that word before and know the meaning of it.
A very refined lady on the golf course the other day expressed the desire to use the f- word after a bad shot, but wasn't sure how it would be received. I said, "Thanks, but I've heard that word before" (like a few thousand times), after all I've raised teenagers.
Let's stop with all the hypocritical pearl-clutching, shall we? The BS word is tame in the relative context of the average 16-year old's vocabulary. Unfortunately. But true.
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zap2it.comdan savage, bullying and the truth about gays and the biblehuffington post - 42 minutes agodan savage, bullying and the truth about gays and the bible... walked out of dan's speech the moment he began talking about the parts of the ...
Thread's really dead now.
You wish!
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zap2it.comdan savage, bullying and the truth about gays and the biblehuffington post - 42 minutes agodan savage, bullying and the truth about gays and the bible... walked out of dan's speech the moment he began talking about the parts of the ...
Diest said:
BTS I fear that you fail to understand hyperbole when someone like Savage speaks.
For all of your talk of strawmen and argumentum ad infinitum you seem to participate in it just as much as the rest of us.
Agreed.
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zap2it.comdan savage, bullying and the truth about gays and the biblehuffington post - 42 minutes agodan savage, bullying and the truth about gays and the bible... walked out of dan's speech the moment he began talking about the parts of the ...
Savage may well be a complete savage and A-hole. I don't know. But his point about the Bible is spot on.
I've read that book and not just the parts quoted in the WT. It contains much ignorance, superstition, gore beyond belief and the stuff of nightmares. Why anyone would use it as a guide to life is beyond me.
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zap2it.comdan savage, bullying and the truth about gays and the biblehuffington post - 42 minutes agodan savage, bullying and the truth about gays and the bible... walked out of dan's speech the moment he began talking about the parts of the ...
Just watched the video. Does anyone know if there has been a coherent response to the substance of what Savage said? Because I think his point is well-taken.
dear friends,.
much of what we do on a daily basis is routine and of no particular, earth-shaking importance.
however, after reviewing letters of family going back to wwii, it is fascinating to read what dad was doing on board the aircraft carrier in the pacific on any old day, what mom was cooking on her ever-steaming range, how i was dealing with the roller coaster of emotion at bethel [mom saved all my letters], how nana wrote that she would not study with the witnesses [per my request] but 'here are some mittens i knitted for you when you canvass new york with your magazines.
Tossed salad and scrambled eggs - yes! But eggs into the salad?
Brings to mind one of my favorite travel memories.......
The Bees are riding their tandem through the lush farmlands of Bordeaux. They’ve cycled many miles (or kilometres) since they set out that morning from the city. It is a very warm day, but the road is flat and straight and the countryside is idyllic. As mid-afternoon approaches, the sun grows warmer still and, slaking their thirst often, they have consumed all their water. But their destination is only a few kilometres away - a quaint hotel in a bucolic little village. The prospects of a cool shower, clean dry clothes and food and drink beckons and they push on. The description of their accommodations found on-line promises "panoramic views of the countryside." Wait a minute! Is that a steep incline indicated on their tattered map? Why, the turn-off from the main road looks straight up! and up!
Sunburned from the relentless rays - not much shade in miles of cabbage, spinach and strawberries - thirsty, sweaty, tired, legs aching with the effort of even a slight upward slope, they press on. Now the ascent begins in earnest: legs pumping slower now, against the weight of a bicycle loaded with two passengers, a pannier each (the sum total of luggage packed for three weeks in Europe), bike tools, innertubes, etc., and the EMPTY water bottles.
The road becomes a narrow cobblestone path with charming cottages on either side. The top is nowhere in sight. It is now time to stop pedaling, dismount and push this monstrously heavy bike up the hill - Mr Bee guiding and pulling with the handlebars in front, Mrs Bee pushing from the rear, face seriously flushed and pulsating with the heat of (what feels like) a thousand suns. Finally, she’s for it. Done. She spies a garden hose on someone's back step and sits down. Oh, salvation! She can almost feel the coolness of water on the back of her head, the sweetness wetness in her parched throat. She turns the spigot and - NOTHING. She desperately turns the knob this way and that - still nothing. This is a vacation month for the French - is it possible that people turn off their water in the middle of summer when they go away?
In the meantime, Mr Bee is several yards further up, stoically carrying on with the mission to reach the top of this Everest. With her last shred of will, Mrs Bee rises to her feet and plunges upward, not to assist him, but to take herself towards water, wherever it may be. By now breathing is difficult and heat stroke seems imminent. Her face is beet red and will remain so for quite some time.
At long, long last, they reach the summit - a large circular plaza ringed with demure little shops - charcuterie, boulangerie, pastisserie, tabac, la poste, cafe – but not a soul around. And then, there to their immediate right, the hotel! Sweet mother!
The proprietor comes to the door, greets them in the French manner, that is to say, coolly aloof, and proceeds to show Mr Bee where to store the bicycle. Mrs Bee asks for a glass of water. Yes, yes, in a moment. No, you don't understand - I. Need. Water. Right. Now. Do you not realize that your hotel is on top of the Himilayas and we just arrived by bicycle and the temperature is 110 in the shade and I am about to expire? Is my face not the color of a ripe plum? Water, s'il vous plait!
The water he brings in a tall tumbler is exquisite, but after the first gulp, it is sipped slowly since nausea is a very real possibility. By the time the glass is finished, a cold bottle of beer seems oh so civilized. Never has a brew tasted so good.
Then it is time to go upstairs (up!) to the room and take a long, cool shower. Never in the history of showers has one felt so divine. Mrs Bee actually begins to entertain the notion that she might live, even though her face is still that lovely shade of red one associates the inside of a ripe watermelon.
Thus fortified, they inquire of their host about restaurants. Restaurants - oh, no, those in the plaza are all closed for the week-end, even the boulangerie, even the tabac, and the cafe. Hmmmm....no wonder the plaza seemed so quiet and deserted - some sort of holiday or because it is August or because it is Sunday. They are, after all, in a remote rural area, not the big city. And the hotel only promises a cold breakfast; it is not a restaurant. The innkeeper can recommend restaurants in the neighboring town - accessible by car, of course. We implore - But we are on a bicycle! Please, can you feed us? Absolutely anything would do - ? He relents and says he will check with his wife.
The Bees are shown to a patio with overhanging fruit trees situated on the roof and the large hillside behind the hotel. Apparently there are no other guests and they luxuriate in the quiet peacefulness of a golden sunset and the view - indeed "panoramic" - of the pastoral valley below. A chilled, crisp white Bordeaux and two wineglasses are delivered to their table by the innkeeper and he pops the cork. Never has a wine tasted this delicious. One could cry.
Next, he brings baguettes and a variety of cheeses on two small plates – a hard, nutty Emmenthal, a soft Brie, a knob of Roquefort, a wedge of Boursault. Contentment reigns.
But then, here comes their host with the most exquisite golden brown, glistening omelets, stuffed with succulent mushrooms, and dusted with minced herbs. This is accompanied by a lightly dressed salad of fresh mesclun, more warm baguettes and sweet butter. The combination is absolute perfection. Never has such a modest meal tasted so good. More wine, please, monsieur!
They are sated, but the final course is yet to come. Warm open-faced French apple tarts – brushed with an apricot jam glaze and topped with a sphere of vanilla ice cream. Heaven! Never has – well, you get the idea.
The next morning, they come down for breakfast and notice the framed yellowed clippings on the walls of the dining room. Their hosts had previously run a 4 star restaurant in the city and were both renowned chefs in their former life. They had given that up to run a rustic little hotel in a small, quiet village at the top of a long, steep hill.
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I’ve often tried to recreate the meal they served us that day, but something was always missing. Perhaps one has to be at the very end of one’s physical reserves, exhausted and then revived to truly savor such a simple meal.
business insider put together some chronological bullet points highlighting the articles most important points:.
zimmerman grew up in a mixed-race householdhe was an altar boy at his caltholic church from age 7-17he is bilingualafter he finished high school, he studied for and got an insurance licensein 2004, zimmerman and a black friend opened an allstate insurance office (which soon failed)zimmermans 2005 arrest for resisting arrest, violence, and battery of an officer occurred after he shoved an under-cover alcohol control agent at a bar when the agent was trying to arrest an underage friend of hiszimmerman married his wife, shellie, in 2007. they rented a house in twin lakes.
twin lakes is about 50% white, 20% hispanic, and 20% black.in 2009, zimmerman enrolled in seminole state collegein the fall of 2009, a pit bull broke free twice and once cornered shellie in the zimmermans yard.
Two observations regarding accuracy:
If the MSNBC report originally aired hadn't doctored
Not MSNBC; NBC.
Treyvon attacked Zimmerman.
Perhaps - but this has not yet been proven.
“doesn’t it make you feel a bit differently about Zimmerman?”
No. I have no feeling about Zimmerman to begin with - I am content that a trial will take place and he will have an opportunity to defend himself.
