there is little difference between an elected politician and an election politician, save a sense of urgency.
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Date: Jun 20, 2006 6:34 PM
Subject: ***Read it. Pass it on.***
Body: What would you do? You make the choice! Don’t look for a punch line; There isn’t one! Read it anyway. My question to all of you is: Would you have made the same choice?
At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning disabled children,the father of o ne of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:
“When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the n atural order of things in my son?”
The audience w as stilled by the query.
The father continued. “I believe,th at when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes, in the way other people treat that child.”Then he told the following story:
Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked,”Do you think they’ll let me play?” Shay’s father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.
Shay’s father approached one of the boys on the field and asked if Shay could play, not expecting much. The boy looked around for guidance and said, “We’re losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we’ll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.”
Shay struggled over to the team’s bench put on a team shirt with a broad smile and his Father had a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father’s joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay’s team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay’s team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.
At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible ’cause Shay didn’t even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.
However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing the other team putting winning aside for this moment in Shay’s life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and misse d. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.
The game would now be over, but the pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.
Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over t he head of the first baseman, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, “Shay, run to first! Run to first!” Never in his life had Shay ever ran that far but made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.
Everyone yelled, “Run to second, run to second!”
Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to second base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball, the smallest guy on their team, who had a chance to be the hero for his team for the first time. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher’s i ntentions and he too intentional ly threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman’s head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.
All were screaming, “Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay”
Shay reached third base, the opposing shortstop ran to help him and turned him in the direction of third base, and shouted, “Run to third! Shay, run to third” As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams and those watching were on their feet were screaming, “Shay, run home! Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the “grand slam” and won the game for his team.
That day, said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world.
Shay didn’t make it to another summer and died that winte r, having never forgotten being the hero and making his Father so happy and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!
AND, NOW A LITTLE FOOTNOTE TO THIS STORY: We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mai l without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people think twice about sharing. The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces.
If you’re thinking about forwarding this message,chances are that you’re probably sorting out the people on your address list that aren’t the “appropriate” ones to receive this type of message. Well, the person who sent you this believes that we all can make a difference. We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the “natural order of things.” So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice: Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up that opportunity to brighten the day of those with us the least able, and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?
A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it’s least fortunate amongst them.
By DENNIS CONRAD, Associated Press Writer Thu May 11, 8:10 PM ET
WASHINGTON – Democratic Sen. Barack Obama on Thursday ridiculed the Bush administration’s defense of the
Iraq war, arguing that messages such as “Plan for Victory” can’t hide the “2,400 flag-draped coffins that have arrived at the Dover Air Force Base.”
In a speech to EMILY’s List, the Illinois senator used biting criticism in assailing the president and his handling of the war. Obama spoke in support of former Army Maj. Tammy Duckworth, a helicopter co-pilot who lost both her legs in combat in Iraq and is trying to win an open House seat.
“This idea,” Obama said, “that somehow if you say the words ‘plan for victory’ and ‘stay the course’ over and over and over and over again and you put these subliminal messages behind you that say ‘victory’ and ‘victory’ and ‘victory,’ that somehow people are not going to notice the 2,400 flag-draped coffins that have arrived at the Dover Air Force Base.”
The first-term lawmaker asked the audience: “People, have we flipped? It’s time to say we notice it. It is time to say that we care, and we are not going to settle anymore.”
The White House had no immediate comment about Obama’s criticism.
Tracey Schmitt, a spokesperson for the
Republican National Committee, said Obama’s remarks “are emblematic of a party that would rather promote pessimism and point fingers than weigh in substanitively on an issue as critical as the central front of the war on terror.”
Obama, who first came to national attention when he delivered the keynote address at the 2004 Democratic National Convention, has been mentioned as a possible presidential candidate in 2008 — or perhaps a running mate.
“I don’t know about you,” he told his audience, referring to Bush’s 2000 campaign comments on possible U.S. military involvement overseas, “but when
George Bush said he did not believe in nation building, I did not know he was talking about this nation.”
EMILY’s List is an organization that helps Democratic women who favor abortion rights.
this is Ewok. Ewok has been with us for fourteen and a half years. he was born in October, though i don’t recall the exact date. his parents are Honey and Bear (and he’s taken from both). i’m not very good at writing about others, as i’m inherently selfish (see current sentence). he’s been the only constant in my life since coming to statesville. when mom wasn’t around, or katie, he was there to fight with me and, oh, yeah, we’d bicker and wrestle and leave nothing inside. he’d throw fits, i’d throw fits, we’d try to come to some sort of compromise, one of us would always be left in pain. he loved to be scratched under the chin and on the very top of his hips. he would stay still to be scratched on his chest, though if you went to his ears, he’d bite the ever-living shit out of you and not think twice about doing it again if you persisted. he’s bit everything.. shoes, arms, noses, hair, paper (he would sit and tear at a piece of paper like it was a wounded animal and he was a big, courageous lion), ankles, shins, fingers, cutting sheers, water, tires, anything that offered itself to him in a way that was not respectful. he never gave a bad memory. he would love it when i’d lay down on the carpet– he would jaunt up in his own little swagger and start rubbing his chin and jaw against the back or top of my hair, sniffing first to make sure it wasn’t already done.. he hated doing the same thing twice in a short amount of time. he hated being on the couch.. something about not wanting to be a pet, but to be a friend and a respected member of the family.
before he was neutered, he would hump anyone and anything. if you came over and he didn’t know you, you’d better expect your leg to be wet by the time you left. he would be snippy (more so than he was about strangers). i wonder if he didn’t like being neutered.. besides the obvious. he was a very anti-social dog to those he didn’t know, constantly rearing his head and ears and staying motionless if a new creature walked by, sort of assessing the situation and preparing to run or fight. the journey’s cat would pretty much abuse him, chasing him around or making him run away. damn cat.
he hated strangers. he hated if you touched him. he hated everything about everyone, unless you were respectful of him and allowed him to know you, not you to know him. he hated leashes, he hated collars. he was the houdini of dogcollars. velcro, snapped, chain-linked, anything.. he would have it off by the next time you saw him. leave in the morning, it’d be off by the time school let out. he didn’t care, he wasn’t going to wear that shit. he loved being completely free, but he was always in a routine.. always combing the neighborhood for his spots and making sure everyone was okay, making sure everything was going fine, or he’d let you know by barking and hollaring for hours and hours and hours. hell, even if nothing was wrong, he’d sit right infront of the garage, or to the side, and just go off for the entire night. night? try weeks, months. hell, i don’t think i’ve seen him (prior to last year) when he wasn’t barking or yipping or something. that dog loved to talk. mom said he would always whine after i left for school, but i don’t know. i think he just wanted to be noticed when his friend wasn’t there. he’s not even gone yet. he’s at home right now, 3 hours away, biting the neighbor’s husband and trying to find himself in what he’s become.. blind, deaf, and shaking. i want to go, i want to see him. is that wrong? he never knew what life was like without a fence or houses. he never knew life outside of our neighborhood, but he still lived as though he was master of the world.
tried taking him for a walk a couple years ago. he hated the leash, hated me trying to make him walk, but i saw he was getting bigger and bigger and that wasn’t good for him. we would walk around the neighborhood, from brookmeade to the houses behind and just loop around, back to the creak and turn around. he hated it. he stopped, threw his weight in his ass and made me half-drag, half-carry his ass until he knew i wasn’t giving in. it was some shit out of south park, with the dog wheesperer. we’d stop every so often, because the days were hot and he’d enjoy taking a seat under a tree or off into the higher grasses. he’d just sit, head-high, panting away with his tongue out and his eyes on me, saying, “you bastard. see what you’ve made me do? i’m sitting in the fucking grass, far from where i’m from, tired as a bitch, trying to get cool, while you’re just standing there, acting like everything’s okay. i fucking hate you, bitch. okay, let’s get this over with.” and he’d start walking, wanting to show me it was he who was in charge. and, somehow, i felt the leash tighten around the wrist as if it were my neck.
he did this thing with his nose and his food-dish. he’d take one nibble of the dried balls, and then rub his nose against the outside of the dish. he’d do this constantly, usually not even eating, just rubbing his nose against the outside of the dish, pushing it to the wall or to somewhere it wouldn’t move, and then keep doing it. over and over. he was a little less obsessive about his water. he’d just gulp/lap that shit.
his favorite game, when he was younger and the teeth were a bit stronger, was to grab onto the end of a knotted rope and swing around on it. he’d let me drag him halfway across the living room, spinning and showing his strength. his bite was something, man. he’d rarely use it fully, though. only on the fingers. he hated fingers. don’t ask. i have no idea why. if you tried giving him his eyedrops or eardrops, and you weren’t prepared, he’d make sure you bled before you touched them to his person. i’d have to hold his head down just to put medicine in. he hated baths, too, but looked sooo funny when his longer-coated hair would mat down. he was so ferocious with his long hair, but so skinny and shaking under the water. it was a sight to behold. he’d start drinking the water, even with the shampoo in it. kept having to stop him.. didn’t know if he’d get sick from shampoo.
he was the only one in my pathetic existence that would take the time (not like he had a choice, but he could have walked away) to sit and listen to me bitch or rant or just goof off. i think it was the attention he liked. katie and i would show him so much love, he’d never have been upset.
i don’t know what katie did with him, besides play and such. they had their time, we had ours. he was kinda split between both of us, and, to tell you the truth, it didn’t bother us at all. the bed pictures are from her. she always could take the most amazing pictures of him. one of the best she took was somewhat blued out, but he was so happy to pose for her. some weird, sick modelling thing.. haha, katie, don’t hurt me.
yeah. and i was upset. he’s gone too far, travelled too much to be thought of with anything but a smile. peace be with you, E.
Apparently, someone I had let access my FTP decided to send massive amounts of e-mail to AOL users, with a link to a virus, ” Hallmark.scr “. I have removed said user’s access and the virus. I sincerely apologize to anyone who has received unsolicited e-mails from this individual and would request your forgiveness.
In short, sorry I was a fuck-up by letting some child use my server.
okay. i’m pretty sure someone or i have tried to define a ‘vpoet’. even if i do define ‘vpoet’, the definition will alter greatly from anything i’ve done and thus would probably negate me using the term ‘vpoet’ as my moniker. but, the idea and basis for my writing is thus:
A ‘vpoet’ may be a ‘poet’ whose interaction with and observance of ‘this world’ is ‘virtual’, as though ‘disconnected’, while remaining fully ‘connected’ through ’emotion’ and ‘gravity’/’forces’/’life’/’the endless cycle’/’the way’/’all’/’curiousity’/’chance’/’?’/
Alternatively, a ‘vpoet’ may be a ‘poet’ whose major ‘influences’ or ‘mediums’ may include the ‘internet’ or other ‘technologies’.