Snippets of Truth ... or Not

- Never argue with an idiot. He'll drag you down to his level and beat you with experience.

- The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But it's still on the list.

- If I agreed with you, we'd both be wrong.

- We never really grow up, we only learn how to act in public.

- Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit; Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.

- The early bird might get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.

- How is it one careless match can start a forest fire, but it takes a whole box to start a campfire?

- I didn't say it was your fault, I said I was blaming you.

- A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.

- You don't need a parachute to skydive, but you do need one to skydive again.

- The voices in my head may be fake, but they have good ideas!

- Hospitality is making your guests feel like they're at home, even if you wish they were.

- I scream the same way whether I'm about to be eaten by a shark or seaweed touches my foot.

- Some cause happiness wherever they go, others whenever they go.

 (Author Unknown)

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The Little Firefighter

This story is from 1981 … a story of the first child to be helped by the Make-A-Wish Foundation. That Foundation made contact with the Phoenix Fire Department to fulfill Bopsy’s wish.  

In Phoenix, AZ a 26-year old mother stared down at her son who was dying of terminal leukemia. Although her heart was filled with sadness, she also had a strong feeling of determination. Like any parent, she wanted her son to grow up and fulfill all his dreams. Now that was no longer possible. She took her son’s hand and asked, “Bopsy, did you ever think about what you wanted to be when you grew up?” 

“I always wanted to be a fireman.”  

Mom smiled and said, “Let’s see if we can make your wish come true.”  

In her research, she discovered the Make-A-Wish Foundation … who contacted firefighter Bob Walp who was well known to children in Phoenix as “Fireman Bob” on the popular “Wallace and Ladmo” television program. Fireman Bob had a heart as big as Phoenix. She explained her son’s final wish and asked if it might be possible to give her seven-year old son a ride around the block on a fire engine.  

Fireman Bob said,” We can do better than that. If you’ll have your son ready at 7:00 Wednesday morning, we’ll make him an honorary fireman for the whole day He can come down to the fire station and eat with us. If you’ll give us his sizes, we’ll get a real fire uniform for him, with a real fire hat with the emblem of the Phoenix Fire Department on it, a yellow slicker like we wear and rubber boots.”  

Three days later, Fireman Bob picked up Bopsy, dressed him in his fire uniform and escorted him from his hospital bed to the waiting hook and ladder truck. Bopsy got to sit on the back of the truck and help steer it back to the fire station, where he got to use a fire hose. The day ended with his being given a firefighter badge.  

Bopsy was in heaven.  

One night all of his vital signs began to drop dramatically and the head nurse, who believed in the hospice concept that no one should die alone, began to call the family members to his bedside. Then she remembered the day Bopsy had spent as a fireman, so she called the Fire Chief and asked if it would be possible to send a fireman in uniform to the hospital to be with Bopsy as he made his transition. The Chief replied,” We can do better than that. We’ll be there in five minutes. Will you please do me a favor? When you hear the sirens screaming and see the lights flashing, will you announce over the PA system that there is not a fire? It’s just the fire department coming to see one of its finest members one more time. And will you open the window to his room?”  

About five minutes later a hook and ladder truck arrived at the hospital and extended its ladder up to Bopsy’s third floor open window. Five firefighters climbed up the ladder and into Bopsy’s room. They hugged him and held him and told him how much they loved him. Bopsy looked up at the fire chief and asked, “Chief, am I really a fireman now?”  

“Bopsy, you are, and the Head Chief, Jesus, is holding your hand.”

 After a visit, prompting some smiles from Bopsy, the firemen left, exiting through the window and down the ladder. Bopsy died later that evening.

“He put a child in the middle of the room. Then, cradling the little one in his arms, he said, "Whoever embraces one of these children as I do embraces me, and far more than me—God who sent me." Mark 9:36-37 (MSG)

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A Man's Wish

A man was sick and tired of going to work every day while his wife stayed home. He wanted her to see what he went through so he prayed, "Dear Lord, I go to work every day and put in eight hours while my wife merely stays at home. I want her to know what I go through, so please create a trade in our bodies." God, in his infinite wisdom, granted the man's wish. 

The next morning, sure enough, the man awoke as a woman. He arose, cooked breakfast for his mate, awakened the kids, set out their school clothes, fed them breakfast, packed their lunches, drove them to school, came home and picked up the dry cleaning, took it to the cleaners and stopped at the bank to draw out money to pay the power bill and telephone bill, drove to the power company and the phone company and paid the bills, went grocery shopping, came home and put away the groceries. He cleaned the cat's litter box and bathed the dog. Then it was already 1 p.m. and he hurried to make the beds, do the laundry, vacuum, dust, and sweep and mop the kitchen floor.

Ran to the school to pick up the kids and got into an argument with them on the way home. Set out cookies and milk and got the kids organized to do their homework, then set up the ironing board and watched TV while he did the ironing. At 4:30 he began peeling potatoes and washing greens for salad, breaded the pork chops and snapped fresh beans for supper.

After supper he cleaned the kitchen, ran the dishwasher, folded laundry, bathed the kids, and put them to bed. At 9 p.m. he was exhausted and, though his daily chores weren't finished, he went to bed where he was expected to make love -- which he managed to get through without complaint.

The next morning he awoke and immediately knelt by the bed and said, "Lord, I don't know what I was thinking. I was so wrong to envy my wife's being able to stay home all day. Please, oh please, let us trade back."

The Lord, in his infinite wisdom, replied, "My son, I feel you have learned your lesson and I will be happy to change things back to the way they were. You'll have to wait 9 months, though. You got pregnant last night.

(Author Unknown)

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The Waiting Place

I worked as a Nurse’s Aide in a nursing home. My shock and dismay over the treatment of the patients who resided there had been almost overwhelming. What mattered to them was the money. It seemed no one saw those people as human beings.

In the twelve months I had been employed there, Anna had never had a visitor. When I had a break, I would sit by her bed and hold her hand. Paralyzed by a stroke, her eyes were the only part of her body that contained a spark of life. Now she was slowly dying.

My shift was over and I headed for the door to leave … but I overheard the conversation about Anna at the nurse’s station. Plans were already being made for the new patient who would occupy that room. The new patient’s family had been called. It was only a matter of time.

Immediately I made a U-turn, catching the attention of the nursing supervisor.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To be with Anna,” was my simple reply.

“Oh, that’s not part of your job. You can go on home,” she said brusquely.

“I don’t want her to die alone,” I said softly. “I will sit with her.”

“Just make sure you clock out first. We won’t pay you for staying,” was her terse answer.

Anna heard me enter. Her eyes locked with mine. She knew. I sat down and took her lifeless hand in mine. I leaned close to her face and said, “Anna, I know you can hear me. I just want you to know I will be here with you.”

Tears leaked out of her eyes and ran toward her ears. I wiped them away.

“Anna, do you know Jesus? Blink twice if the answer is yes.”

Instantly she closed her eyes and opened them twice.

“Then soon you will be free of this body and be running and jumping down the streets of gold. Are you ready for that?”

Two blinks … and more tears down the cheeks. Once again I gently wiped them away. I had never done this before. A part of me wanted to leave the room and forget it was happening.

But I could not leave her alone.

I sang softly … and prayed and kept my eyes locked on hers. When they closed, I felt a catch in my breath. But the rise and fall of her chest told me … not yet.

It didn’t take long. She was ready. Anna gently slipped away. I sat there in silence.

I conjured up a mental image of Anna … whole again. I had been witness to a wonderful passing. Selfishly I hoped I would never end up like Anna … an active mind trapped in a lifeless body. I prayed I would remember this moment of Anna’s release.

Still holding her hand, my reverie was interrupted by the strident voice of the nursing supervisor. “Why didn’t you tell us she died? We need to get this room stripped and disinfected. The new patient is arriving at 8:00.” I was ushered from the room as the flurry of activity began.

I wondered what they planned to do with Anna’s body. But Anna no longer cared. She was free.

^“So then, there is still awaiting a full and complete Sabbath-rest reserved for the people of God; for he who has once entered God's rest also has ceased from the weariness and pain of human labors … ” Hebrews 4:9-10 (AMP)

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Noah's Ark

A working replica of Noah’s Ark opened in Schagen, Netherlands. A man built Noah’s Ark to the exact scale given in the Bible.  

The massive central door in the side of the ark was opened and the first crowd of curious townsfolk beheld the wonder. This replica of the biblical Ark was built by Dutch Creationist Johan Huibers as a testament to his faith in the literal truth of the Bible.  

The ark is 150 cubits long, 30 cubits high and 20 cubits wide. That’s 2/3 the length of a football field and as high as a three-story house.  

Life-sized models of giraffes, elephants, lions, crocodiles, zebras, bison and other animals greet visitors as they arrive in the main hold.  

A contractor by trade, Huibers built the ark of cedar and pine. Biblical scholars debate exactly what the wood used by Noah would have been. 

Huibers did the work mostly with his own hands, using modern tools and with occasional help from his son, Roy. Construction began in May, 2005. On the uncovered top deck … not quite ready in time for the opening … is a petting zoo, with baby lambs and chickens, goats and one camel.  

Visitors on the first day were stunned. “It’s beyond comprehension,” said Mary Louise Starosciak, who happened to be bicycling by with her husband while on vacation when the saw the ark looming over the local landscape. “I knew the story of Noah, but I had no idea the boat would have been so big!”  

There is enough space near the keel for a 50-seat film theater when kids can watch a video that tells the story of Noah and his ark. Huibers, a Christian man, said he hopes the project will renew interest in Christianity in the Netherlands, where church going has fallen dramatically in the past 50 years.

"Build yourself a ship from teakwood. Make rooms in it. Coat it with pitch inside and out. Make it 450 feet long, seventy-five feet wide, and forty-five feet high. Build a roof for it and put in a window eighteen inches from the top; put in a door on the side of the ship; and make three decks, lower, middle, and upper.” Genesis 6:14-16 (MSG)

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It Happens Every Friday

By JOSEPH L. GALLOWAY
McClatchy Newspapers

Over the last 12 months, 1,042 soldiers, Marines, sailors and Air Force personnel have given their lives in the terrible duty that is war. Thousands more have come home on stretchers, horribly wounded and facing months or years in military hospitals. This week, I'm turning my space over to a good friend and former roommate, Army Lt. Col. Robert Bateman, who recently completed a yearlong tour of duty in Iraq and is now back at the Pentagon. Here's Lt. Col. Bateman's account of a little-known ceremony that fills the halls of the Army corridor of the Pentagon with cheers, applause and many tears every Friday morning. It first appeared on May 17 on the Weblog of media critic and pundit Eric Alterman at the Media Matters for America Website.

"It is 110 yards from the "E" ring to the "A" ring of the Pentagon. This section of the Pentagon is newly renovated; the floors shine, the hallway is broad, and the lighting is bright. At this instant the entire length of the corridor is packed with officers, a few sergeants and some civilians, all crammed tightly three and four deep against the walls. This hallway, more than any other, is the `Army' hallway. The G3 offices line one side, G2 the other, G8 is around the corner. All Army! Moderate conversations flow in a low buzz. Friends, who may not have seen each other for a few weeks, or a few years, spot each other, cross the way and renew.

Everyone shifts to ensure an open path remains down the center. The air conditioning system was not designed for this press of bodies in this area. The temperature is rising already. Nobody cares. "10:36 hours: The clapping starts at the E-Ring. That is the outermost of the five rings of the Pentagon and it is closest to the entrance to the building. This clapping is low, sustained and hearty. It is applause with a deep emotion behind it as it moves forward in a wave down the length of the hallway.

A steady rolling wave of sound it is, moving at the pace of the soldier in the wheelchair who marks the forward edge with his presence. He is the first. He is missing the greater part of one leg, and some of his wounds are still suppurating. By his age I expect that he is a private, or perhaps a private first class.

Captains, majors, lieutenant colonels and colonels meet his gaze and nod as they applaud, soldier to soldier. Three years ago when I described one of these events, those lining the hallways were somewhat different. The applause a little more wilder perhaps in private guilt for not having shared in the burden ... Yet. Now almost everyone lining the hallway is, like the man in the wheelchair, also a combat veteran. This steadies the applause, but I think deepens the sentiment. We have all been there now. The soldier's chair is pushed by, a full colonel.

Behind him, and stretching the length from Rings E to A, come more of his peers, each private, corporal, or sergeant assisted as need be by a field grade officer. 11:00 hours: Twenty-four minutes of steady applause. My hands hurt, and I laugh to myself at how stupid that sounds in my own head. My hands hurt. Please! Shut up and clap. For twenty-four minutes, soldier after soldier has come down this hallway - 20, 25, 30. Fifty-three legs come with them, and perhaps only 52 hands or arms, but down this hall came 30 solid hearts.

They pass down this corridor of officers and applause, and then meet for a private lunch, at which they are the guests of honor, hosted by the generals. Some are wheeled along. Some insist upon getting out of their chairs, to march as best they can with their chin held up, down this hallway, through this most unique audience. Some are catching handshakes and smiling like a politician at a Fourth of July parade. More than a couple of them seem amazed and are smiling shyly.

There are families with them as well: the 18-year-old war-bride pushing her 19-year-old husband's wheelchair and not quite understanding why her husband is so affected by this, the boy she grew up with, now a man, who had never shed a tear is crying; the older immigrant Latino parents who have, perhaps more than their wounded mid-20s son, an appreciation for the emotion given on their son's behalf. No man in that hallway, walking or clapping, is ashamed by the silent tears on more than a few cheeks. An Airborne Ranger wipes his eyes only to better see. A couple of the officers in this crowd have themselves been a part of this parade in the past.

These are our men, broken in body they may be, but they are our brothers, and we welcome them home. This parade has gone on, every single Friday, all year long, for more than four years.”

“Love each other with genuine affection, and take delight in honoring each other.” Romans 12:10 (NLT)

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Wisdom from Training Manuals - Part 2

'When one engine fails on a twin-engine plane, you still have enough power to get you to the scene of the crash.'
Multi-Engine Training Manual

'Without ammunition, the Air Force is just an expensive flying club.'

Unknown Author

'If you hear me yell;"Eject, Eject, Eject!", the last two will be echoes.' If you stop to ask "Why?", you'll be talking to yourself, because by then you'll be the pilot.' 
Pre-flight Briefing from a Canadian F104 Pilot

'What is the similarity between air traffic controllers and pilots? If a pilot screws up, the pilot dies; but If ATC screws up, .... the pilot dies.'

Sign over Control Tower Door

'Never trade luck for skill.'

Author Unknown

The three most common expressions in military aviation are: ‘Did you feel that?' 'What's that noise?' and 'Oh S...!'

Authors Unknown

 

'Airspeed, altitude and brains. Two are always needed to successfully complete the flight.'
Basic Flight Training Manual

 

'Flying the airplane is more important than radioing your plight to a person on the ground who is incapable of understanding or doing anything about it.'

Emergency Checklist

'The Piper Cub is the safest airplane in the world; it can barely kill you.'

Attributed to Max Stanley (Northrop test pilot)

'There is no reason to fly through a thunderstorm in peacetime.'

Sign over Squadron Ops Desk at Davis-Montham AFB, AZ

'You know that your landing gear is up and locked when it takes full power to taxi to the terminal.'

Lead-in Fighter Training Manual

The test pilot climbs out of the experimental aircraft, wings and tail torn off; the crash truck arrives. The driver notes the bloodied pilot and asks,’ What happened?' The pilot replies: 'I don't know, I just got here!

Author Unknown

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Moving Into the Future

When I bought my Blackberry, I thought about the 30-year business I ran with 1800 employees, all without a cell phone that plays music, takes videos, pictures and communicates with Facebook and Twitter.  I signed up under duress for Twitter and Facebook, so my seven kids, their spouses, 13 grand kids and 2 great grand kids could communicate with me in the modern way. I figured I could handle something as simple as Twitter with only 140 characters of space.

That was before one of my grand kids hooked me up for Tweeter, Tweetree, Twhirl, Twitterfon, Tweetie and Twittererific Tweetdeck, Twitpix and something that sends every message to my cell phone and every other program within the texting world.

My phone was beeping every three minutes with the details of everything except the bowel movements of the entire next generation. I am not ready to live like this. I keep my cell phone in the garage in my golf bag.  

The kids bought me a GPS for my last birthday because they say I get lost every now and then going over to the grocery store or library. I keep that in a box under my tool bench with the Blue tooth [it's red] phone I am supposed to use when I drive. I wore it once and was standing in line at Barnes and Noble talking to my wife and everyone in the nearest 50 yards was glaring at me. I had to take my hearing aid out to use it, and I got a little loud.

I mean the GPS looked pretty smart on my dash board, but the lady inside that gadget was the most annoying, rudest person I had run into in a long time. Every 10 minutes, she would sarcastically say, "Re-calc-u-lating." You would think that she could be nicer. It was like she could barely tolerate me. She would let go with a deep sigh and then tell me to make a U-turn at the next light. Well, it was not a good relationship.

When I get really lost now, I call my wife and tell her the name of the cross streets and while she is starting to develop the same tone as Gypsy, the GPS lady, at least she loves me.

To be perfectly frank, I am still trying to learn how to use the cordless phones in our house. We have had them for 4 years, but I still haven't figured out how I can lose three phones all at once and have to run around digging under chair cushions and checking bathrooms and the dirty laundry baskets when the phone rings.

The world is just getting too complex for me.

(Author Unknown)

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The Breadwinner

Dr. Sebastian J. Ciancio, of Danville, Illinois, told TruthOrFiction.Com that he is the author of this commentary about a conversation that he had with an emergency room physician. He emailed his commentary to syndicated radio host Rush Limbaugh and a few friends.

Here is the Dr. Ciancio's letter:

Dear Mr. Limbaugh,

I was speaking to an emergency room physician this morning. He told me that a woman in her 20's came to the ER with her 8th pregnancy. She stated "my momma told me that I am the breadwinner for the family." He asked her to explain. She said that she can make babies and babies get money for the family.

The scam goes like this: The grandma calls the Department of Children and Family Services and states that the unemployed daughter is not capable of caring for these children. DCFS agrees and states that the child or children will need to go to foster care. The grandma then volunteers to be the foster parent, and thus receives a check for $1500 per child per month in Illinois. Total yearly income: $144,000 tax-free, not to mention free healthcare (Medicaid) plus a monthly "Link" card entitling her to free groceries, etc, and a voucher for 250 free cell phone minutes per month. This does not even include WIC and other welfare programs.

Indeed, grandma was correct in that her fertile daughter is the "breadwinner" in the family.

I hope you share this story with your listeners so that they know how the ruling class spends their tax dollars. Also, many thanks for the fine service you provide in educating people about the merits of conservative thinking.

Cheers,

Sebastian J. Ciancio, M.D.
Urologist, Danville Polyclinic, LTD.

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Only a Man Would Attempt This

Last weekend I saw something at Larry’s Pistol and Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15^th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife, Julie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized taser. The effects of the taser were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse effect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety.  

Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing. I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button and pressed it against a metal surface at the same time I’d get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.  

So I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn’t be all that bad with only two AAA batteries. Right? There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood moving target. I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie, but then thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong?

So there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose … directions in one hand and taser in the other. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.  

All the while I’m looking at this little device measuring about 5” long, less than ¾ inch in circumference; pretty cute really. I’m thinking no possible way. What happened next is almost beyond description, but I’ll do my best.  

I’m sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as if to say, don’t do it. I reasoned that a one-second burst from such a tiny little ole thing couldn’t hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button and ……. 

WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION … WHAT THE HECK?  

I’m pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, body slammed us both on the carpet over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire. My left arm was tucked under my body in the oddest position and I had tingling in my legs.

The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room.  

Note: If you ever feel compelled to mug yourself with a taser, there is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself. You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. A three-second burst would be considered conservative.

A minute or so later (I can’t be sure as time was a relative thing at that point) I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was upside down and about eight feet from where it originally was. My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 pounds. I had no control over the drooling. Apparently I pooped on myself, but was too numb to know for sure and my sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head which I believe came from my hair.  

If you think education is difficult, try being stupid!  

(Author Unknown)

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