Reminder to 0bama and Holder Employees
COMPUTER TRESPASS---RCW 9A.52.110---Computer trespass in the first degree.
(1) A person is guilty of computer trespass in the first degree if the person, without authorization, intentionally gains access to a computer system or electronic database of another; and (a) The access is made with the intent to commit another crime; or (b) The violation involves a computer or database maintained by a government agency.
(2) Computer trespass in the first degree is a class C felony.
You Are Never As Anonymous As You Think!
Sign by Danasoft - For Backgrounds and Layouts
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Behind this photo is a link to a webpage which I encourage you to watch in its entirety.
We cannot afford to forget; for, to forget is to repeat and we cannot allow a repetition. We must not allow it ever to occur again.
"This is the United States of America! Things like this don't happen here!"
But it did and we must assure that it never does again!
Whatever the cost, the price of freedom must be paid by a people who wish to remain free. Even if it means fighting on foreign soil. For to allow a war, a battle, to breach our own shores will be the demise of our great experiment in democracy.
Liberty and Justice exact a heavy toll. Are you willing to close ranks? Are you willing to pay the supreme sacrifice for Liberty and Justice for All?
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Monday, May 29, 2006
February 27, 2006
We’re being colonized with over nine million illegal alien Mexicans crashing our schools, medical systems, language, culture, parks, tax and welfare systems. One look at the headlines of major newspapers across the country echoes and mirrors the Rocky Mountain News. Where is the outrage?
It stupefies me beyond comprehension that Americans sit back and watch this invasion of their country without any outrage. Worse, without any response! More than that--without a concern for their own kids’ future! Even more horrific, the line of immigrants from Mexico (and the world) shows no sign of stopping, as the number of Mexicans grows from their current 106 million to 200 million in this century.
Bush, Congress and governors of all 50 states—not only watch it happen—they actively aid and abet it. Arlan Specter of Pennsylvania wants to add another one to two million legal immigrants annually. Senators John McCain and Ted Kennedy want to give amnesty to 20 million illegals and add more in a guest worker program. Utah’s Chris Cannon welcomes millions of Mexicans as he encourages their takeover of our country. His sidekick Senator Orrin Hatch mirrors that sentiment. Representative Joe Baca of California actively promotes the takeover of California by Mexico as he endorses “Reconquista of Aztlan.” As Mark Twain said, "Suppose you were an idiot; and suppose you were a member of Congress; but then, I repeat myself." Twain got it right, but where is the outrage?
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
But blogging is a little different. The audience is both 'me' and anyone who stumbles in here or follows a link and ends up here. Because I am a woman of a thousand interests, one post may be at political odds with another (or not) and another post may go off on a tangent or a rant.
The neat thing is that these are my thoughts. I am posting them for family mostly, but friends, too, who wonder how I think and what I think of. I have actually had personal notes from people who tell me that they have enjoyed my blog. And I do jump around.
I do a bit of surfing on the internet and find some of the most interesting things. And because I find them interesting, I post them here for others who may also find them interesting.
Right now, my favorite is the tiny baby-foot pushing against his Mama's tummy. I have that as my screen saver and I almost always reach up and touch the screen where the baby-foot is. It's just so sweet. I can see a billboard with that image and the words "stamp out abortion" or maybe "stamping out abortion." How anyone could justify for any reason killing the owner of a little foot that one day might push against his Mama's tummy (maybe looking for that egress to freedom?), is beyond my ability to understand. And yet, in places here in the USofA, people do just that to babies just that size. It's called partial birth abortion and it's got to be the sickest most vile and disgusting act of violence a "medical professional" can perform on a helpless child. Because, you see that foot? That's a baby's foot. It's not a 'piece of tissue' and it's not some 'thing' to be thrown in the garbage like some gutted animal.
Think about that for a while. Let that sink into your head and heart. A baby is a helpless individual who must be protected if we, as a culture and as human beings, are to exist as 'whole' persons. If we kill our babies, we become less human with each inhumane act. Those who participate in the death of innocent victims slowly lose the sensitivity to relate to other people in a kind and loving way. They slowly turn into unfeeling animals -- no, less than animals even. They exist but do not live. They cannot truly love because they have emptied their love of life each time they kill an innocent child. It's not tissue. It is the "product of procreation" -- and we call those products "babies."
Monday, May 22, 2006
Talked to the Damascus Police for a while about Trail Days among other things. They did a great job and I heard no complaints from any of the hikers.
Enjoyed visiting with many friends. Failed to make the Damascus Library Book Sale for the first time in 'ever' -- but I don't need to add anything to my clutter right now.
Ordered new boots -- waterproof. Different footprint and manufacturer than I have been wearing and I think they'll be a good improvement. I pick them up the first of June.
My Tevas arrived today from Campmor. These are the Terra Fi 2. Met someone who was hiking with the Teva Wraptors and was impressed. The Terra Fi 2 is impressive too. Good arch support. Spider outsole. Can't wait to get them on the Trail.
Don't need any new gear for my pack, but ordered the bailed pot that I want from Tin Man and he's going to fix me up -- coozie and all -- and he may join the throng of hikers and start out with us. (Us being my Damascus, VA, friend.)
Speaking of "pack" which I did, I overheard one sales person say that this year's biggest sale item at Trail Days was new packs. Person said that last year it was tents and hammocks, this year it was packs.
Good Trail Days -- The Parade was more subdued than last year. It seems as if there was more maturity in the hikers this year. One shopkeeper said there were fewer tourists than last year. She said that there were a lot of people from nearby towns but few from very far away, other than hikers or their familes.
Expected excitement didn't occur. My method of dealing with any excitement was approved by the Damascus Police and although I may look 'short and fat' to some, proper training can never be discounted. Mr Miyagi didn't have the 'look' either.
Of course, this guy does.
And then, there's me.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Hapkido was founded in the mid twentieth century by Choi, Young Sool. The story of Choi's early life is the stuff of legend.
As it goes, he was abducted by a Japanese business man to be a house boy in the early 1900's. Korea was under occupation by Imperialist Japan at the time, and this practice was rather common. Choi was not at all happy with his new situation and created a lot of fuss.
It was too much for his captor and so Choi was turned out into the street. Soon afterwards he was taken in by monks that cared for him until he was a young man. As he matured, and still at a young age, he became the servant of the Takeda house. Here he received his martial training in 'Daito-ryu Aiki jujutsu' a grappling and joint locking art.
As the story goes, the Japanese army was drafting martial artists to fight during World War II, and Takeda had Choi hospitalized for some minor surgery so that he could not be conscripted. After the war was over and the Japanese defeated, Choi was repatriated to Korea. It was difficult for him, as he did not speak his native language. Even so Choi gained a reputation for being able to handle the street toughs that roamed the neighborhoods of post-war Korea.
At some point after his return to Korea, Choi joined forces with a taekyon instructor that had a dojang in the back of his family's brewery, and founded the unique martial art that we now know as hapkido. Choi lived a long life and died in 1986. He left behind many students in Korea as well as here in the United States, and indeed all over the world. He did not, however, leave an organized grouping of techniques, and so consequently there are many different 'styles' of hapkido. The tradition of hapkido has been passed down orally and also organized by former students of Grandmaster Choi. Jung Hwan Park, Han Jae Ji, and He Young Kim have passed on rich hapkido tradition as direct links to the founder. Many others, westerners and easterners alike, have contributed to the spread of hapkido across the globe.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
My grandmother and grandfather had a chicken yard inside the city limits of Montgomery, Alabama. My grandmother used to go out into the chicken roost and say "one of you isn't laying, let's see, is it YOU? No, not you. Is it YOU? No, not you. Then it must be YOU and she'd grab the chicken and bring it outside the fenced chicken yard and with a twist of her wrist, break the neck. Then, if I was around, she'd let the headbobbing chicken loose and I'd run around trying to catch it. Then she'd grab it and hang it upside down from a wire my grandfather had strung. We'd go inside to boil a huge 'cauldron' of water while the blood ran out of the chicken through the neck. When the water was roiling, she'd turn off the stove, go get the chicken, lay the chicken on spread out paper, take the pot off the stove and then dunk the chicken into the boiling water to loosen the feathers. She'd pluck nearly all the feathers off, dunking the chicken in the water every now and then to loosen more feathers. THEN, she'd lay the chicken in the sink, roll up the newspapers and get my grandfather to take them out to the trashcan and the pot of water outside to pour the water out. I'd get on a chair that I'd pushed over to the sink and stand beside her (on her left side) and watch her finish getting the "pin feathers" off the carcass and then slit the belly and pull the innards out. And I always remember that she ALWAYS got a handful of "eggs" (pre-shelled yellow balls) out of every chicken she ever chose for our dinner. Everyone was laying, she just used that as an excuse to kill a chicken for our dinner.
Monday, May 15, 2006
My biggest question is: where in Alabama will I retire? My son-in-law has five or six irons in the fire and just may have to stop and choose one or two and let the others go. I get all excited about the beach and they tell me the mountains. I make the paradigm shift to thinking about mountains and they change direction to another place near a lake. I'm getting too old for all these paradigm shifts, I want to retire and never have to move again.
But then I have to finish sorting and donating items to the Domestic Abuse Shelter Thrift Store. I quit making lists for tax purposes. I don't have enough stuff to add up to the IRS deductible. I have a lot of stuff, but it's not going to add up to a deductible.
Then there's the logistics of actually picking up and moving. I hope to have very few items that are too bulky to fit into my car or into a small moving truck. If my daughter moves closer to me, I can make some 'runs' to their home with a packed full car. If they stay near the beach, it's a seven hour 'run' and I'm not up to making more than already planned. I just would like to know.
I'm excited about retiring and I think a bit apprehensive, too. The great unknown.
I'm excited about hiking the Appalachian Trail. And not apprehensive at all. I've gotten advice from women who've hiked it more than once. I'm ready for the AT. We'll see if the AT is ready for me.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Second, gear changes. I’m torn between my Integral Designs Salathe’ bivy and my (as yet un-seal-seamed) silbivy. There are good reasons to take either one and I’m now shifting back to the 5x8 siltarp and the silbivy. I’m buying one more pair of shorts which I’ll wear with my Hawaiian shirt to sleep in and for town use. I don’t have my boots or hiking shoes or whatever I wear to hike in yet. There’s plenty of time, so I’ll keep my options open.
I have just about decided to leave behind my ‘thin blue sleeping pad’ and use my pack under my legs and feet and my “uber micro” under my torso. I’ll have to check it out to see if it works when we have our shake down hike in October. I’m thinking I’d like to hike Standing Indian Mountain and Albert Mountain for our shakedown hike or maybe Hot Springs to Erwin, but we’ll make a decision as the time grows closer.
Third, technology on the Trail. I know I don’t want to use the pocketmail. I will probably just pen and paper my journal. Why, you may ask, since it’s obvious I type well. Well, here’s my thinking: pocketmail is just one more chain to the “other” world (this one, not the one I’m going to enter on my Thru Hike). I want to leave most of that behind when I hike. Oh, yes, I’ll have a camera and probably a 2 gig card and I’ll have a little cellphone to call my support person and my family, but there’s only one use for a pocketmail – you can’t draw with it and you can’t use it for emergencies (like ordering pizza or making reservations at one of the Huts in the Whites) and you can’t capture the moment or I guess we can now say ‘digitize the moment” with a pocketmail. I’m giving it away: it already has a new home. I want to write and draw and jot down words or phrases that I can later play with to write a poem or a piece of prose for my trail journal. I can do that discretely with a pen or colored pencils and paper. But to have to pull out a pocketmail and go through the motions – it’s just not “me.”
Fourth, hiking with someone versus hiking solo. Just because my friend and I will start on the same day at the same time doesn’t mean we’re hiking with each other. We are two solo hikers who are hiking at the same, in the same direction. Hiking “with” someone, means that the hikers take on some responsibility for the other. It means that each hiker is there to make sure that the other doesn’t get lost, sets up camp in a dry spot out of the rain, has enough to eat, has enough treated or filtered water, etc, etc. As friends, I’m sure we’ll make sure neither gets lost (unless we both get lost at the same time) and one of us may comment to the other about the depression that will puddle with water in the rain and offer some food if it appears that the other has run low and maybe even haul up extra water for the other to treat or filter. BUT neither of us is “responsible” for the other. We are each responsible for ourselves. Each can set up camp independently of the other. Each could be hiking alone but chooses to have the company of the other at the end of the day. There is a difference between being responsible for someone else and being responsible solely for yourself. We choose to be only responsible for ourselves but to enjoy each other’s company at the end of the day.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
I planned to use a silbivy until I read a review of the Salathe' bivy written in 1998 . . . by me. I'm taking the Salathe' as my primary shelter. It's 31 ounces. Heavier than my hiking partner's BetaMid. And I still need a small tarp over the egress.
(Egress, you know, the white birds with legs that bend backwards.) (Or is that Egret?)
This means I have to spend time reconfiguring the remainder of my gear in my Muse.
Which means I'll take the pack with me to Trail Days and let my friend who is planning on making a raincover for my pack make her own measurements.
Only mine will be in orange.
G'nite for now.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Found a really interesting poem by Henry Van Dyke.
Doors of Daring
The mountains that enfold the vale
With walls of granite, steep and high,
Invite the fearless foot to scale
Their stairway toward the sky.
The restless, deep, dividing sea
That flows and foams from shore to shore,
Calls to its sunburned chivalry,
"Push out, set sail, explore!"
And all the bars at which we fret,
That seem to prison and control,
Are but the doors of daring, set
Ajar before the soul.
Say not, "Too poor," but freely give;
Sigh not, "Too weak," but boldly try,
You never can begin to live
Until you dare to die.
Van Dyke also wrote "Ode to Joy"
Hymn of Joy
(To the music of Beethoven's ninth symphony)
Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee,
God of glory, Lord of love;
Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee,
Praising Thee their sun above.
Melt the clouds of sin and sadness;
Drive the dark of doubt away;
Giver of immortal gladness,
Fill us with the light of day!
All Thy works with joy surround Thee,
Earth and heaven reflect Thy rays,
Stars and angels sing around Thee,
Centre of unbroken praise:
Field and forest, vale and mountain,
Blooming meadow, flashing sea,
Chanting bird and flowing fountain,
Call us to rejoice in Thee.
Thou art giving and forgiving,
Ever blessing, ever blest,
Well-spring of the joy of living,
Ocean-depth of happy rest!
Thou our Father, Christ our Brother, --
All who live in love are Thine:
Teach us how to love each other,
Lift us to the Joy Divine.
Mortals join the mighty chorus,
Which the morning stars began;
Father-love is reigning o'er us,
Brother-love binds man to man.
Ever singing march we onward,
Victors in the midst of strife;
Joyful music lifts us sunward
In the triumph song of life.
(Hard to read that without singing it, isn't it?)
Here's a nearly 'perfect' poem for a hiker also by Van Dyke.
Let me but live my life from year to year,
With forward face and unreluctant soul;
Not hurrying to, nor turning from the goal;
Not mourning for the things that disappear
In the dim past, nor holding back in fear
From what the future veils; but with a whole
And happy heart, that pays its toll
To Youth and Age, and travels on with cheer.
So let the way wind up the hill or down,
O'er rough or smooth, the journey will be joy:
Still seeking what I sought when but a boy,
New friendship, high adventure, and a crown,
My heart will keep the courage of the quest,
And hope the road's last turn will be the best.
One of my favorite poets (even if he wasn't born in the South).
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
And of course this poem by Robert Frost, so often quoted by hikers.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
I have lots to do before I sleep.
+Pace e Bene+
"We love death. The United States loves life. That is the big difference between us." – Osama bin Laden
"I have been made victorious through terror." Muhammad, founder of Muhammadism now called Islam (Submit or Die)