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McTag, I am so glad you enjoyed that bit of whimsy. Just me and e.e. <smile>

Today is Sunday, and I would love to hear a hymn or two.

For Squinney:

Be Thou My Vision

Melody -

Ancient Irish hymn, possibly from the 8th Century, tr. by Mary E. Byrne

Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.
2. Be Thou my Wisdom, Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee, Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.
3. Be Thou my battle-shield, sword for my fight,
Be Thou my dignity, Thou my delight.
Thou my soul's shelter, Thou my high tower.
Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.
4. Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise,
Thou mine inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of heaven, my Treasure Thou art.

5. High King of heaven, my victory won,
May I reach heaven's joys, O bright heav'ns Son!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my vision, O ruler of all.

And, McTag, I always thought that was a Presbyterian hymn. At least we sang it in the Presbyterian choir.

this is part of a performance piece by laurie anderson, called united states

Time and a Half

In the middle of the seventeenth century, the only people living in the American colonies were the Indians, a few scattered pilgrims, and lots of British troops. Communication between Britain and the colonies was confused and chaotic. King George told the troops: "Just pick some kind of headquarters and talk to me from there. I don't care where you put it."
The logical choice for the headquarters was Philadelphia which had a few brick streets and some picturesque supply stores and nobody has ever been able to figure out why the British troops chose Washington instead--which was basically a few shacks in a swamp.
Recently, historians have discovered two facts that might add up to a possible explanation. First, the outskirts of Washington, D.C. lay just a few yards inside the official subtropical zone of the British Empire. Second, all British troops working in subtropical zones were paid time and a half.

dj, that is amazing. It's always nice to include a vignette of history, and to that, I shall add this:



Benjamin Banneker was born near Baltimore, Maryland in 1731; he was the only child of a free mulatto mother and African father, who purchased his own freedom from slavery. Banneker lived all of his life on his parents' farm on the Patapsco River in Baltimore County. Young Benjamin attended integrated private schools; he obtained an eighth grade education by age 15 and excelled in mathematics. He took over his parents' farm and became an excellent farmer.

Josef Levi, a traveling salesman, showed Banneker a pocket watch, something he had never seen before. He became so fascinated over the watch that Levi gave it to him. He took the watch home and spent days taking it apart and putting it back together. In 1753, using the watch as a model, Banneker produced the first wooden clock ever built in the United States. It was made entirely of wood, and each gear was carved by hand. His clock kept perfect time, striking every hour, for more than forty years. News of the clock created such a sensation that people came from all over to see it, and the genius who made it.

During the revolutionary war period, George Ellicot, a neighbor, introduced Banneker to the science of astronomy, which he rapidly mastered. His aptitude in mathematics and knowledge of astronomy enabled him to predict the solar eclipse that took place on April 14, 1789. In 1792, Banneker began publishing an almanac that was widely read and became the main reference for farmers in the Mid-Atlantic states. It offered weather data, recipes, medical remedies, poems and anti-slavery essays. This almanac was the first scientific book written by a Black American, and it was published annually for more than a decade.

Banneker's major reputation stems from his service as a surveyor on the six-man team which helped design the blueprints for Washington, DC. President Washington had appointed Banneker, making him the first Black presidential appointee in the United States. Banneker helped in selecting the sites for the U.S. Capitol building, the U.S. Treasury building, the White House and other Federal buildings. When the chairman of the civil engineering team, Major L'Enfant, abruptly resigned and returned to France with the plans, Banneker's photographic memory enabled him to reproduce them in their entirety. Washington, DC, with its grand avenues and buildings, was completed and stands today as a monument to Banneker's genius.

Banneker's preoccupation with scientific matters in no way diminished his concern for the plight of Blacks. In a twelve-page letter to Thomas Jefferson, he refuted the statement that "Blacks were inferior to Whites." Jefferson changed his position and, as a testimonial, sent a copy of Banneker's almanac to the French Academy of Sciences in Paris. Another was used in Britain's House of Commons to support an argument for the education of Blacks. Banneker was living proof that "the strength of mind is in no way connected with the color of the skin."

Banneker's predictions were consistently accurate, except for his prediction of his own death. Living four years longer than he had predicted, Banneker died on October 25, 1806, wrapped in a blanket observing the stars through his telescope.

the only problem is, i don't know if it's true

my post, not yours

this piece from the same show, sorta gives an example of how she skews reality

again i'm not sure if this story is true, our if like the story her stories are told to challenge or understanding of the world around us

The Visitors

A group of American minimal artists were on a goodwill trip to China. Near the end of their visit, they stopped in a remote province where few Americans had ever gone. One of the Chinese hosts seemed to be very confused about the United States. He kept asking questions like: "Is it true that Americans ride airplanes ... to work?" "Is it true that all your food is made in factories?"
One of the artists was a conceptualist whose specialties was theories about information and truth. He decided to try out one of his theories on the host.
So when the host asked, "Is it true you have robots in your houses?" he said, "Yes, yeah. We have lots of them. It's true."
The host asked, "Is it true that Americans live on the moon?" The artist said, "Yes, it's true. A lot of us live there. In fact, we go there all the time."
In this province, however, the word for moon was the same as the word for heaven. The hosts were amazed that Americans traveled to heaven. They were even more amazed that we were able to come back--that we went to heaven all the time.

They look like us.
They act like us.
Remember us.
They are not us.

Understanding the world around us. Yes, dj, whatever her story, this woman you know through skewed eyes of reality, I will always recall the beautiful and prophetic lines of Langston Hughes: Theme For English B.

"If if comes out of you it will be true."

The instructor said,

Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you --
Then, it will be true.

I wonder if it's that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.
I went to school there, then Durham, then here
to this college on the hill above Harlem.
I am the only colored student in my class.
The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas,
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y,
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator
up to my room, sit down, and write this page:

It's not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I'm what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
hear you, hear me -- we two -- you, me, talk on this page.
(I hear New York too.) Me -- who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.
I like a pipe for a Christmas present,
or records -- Bessie, bop, or Bach.
I guess being colored doesn't make me NOT like
the same things other folks like who are other races.
So will my page be colored that I write?
Being me, it will not be white.
But it will be
a part of you, instructor.
You are white --
yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.
That's American.
Sometimes perhaps you don't want to be a part of me.
Nor do I often want to be a part of you.
But we are, that's true!
As I learn from you,
I guess you learn from me --
although you're older -- and white --
and somewhat more free.

This is my page for English B.

-- Langston Hughes

Ah, listeners, in touch with our inner selves, and that is what we're all about.

A song that occurred to me, listeners: The words alone are so tender.

Their Hearts Were Full of Spring Lyrics:
There's a story told of a very gentle boy
And the girl who wore his ring
Through the wintery snow
The world they knew was warm
For their hearts were full of spring

As the days grew old
And the nights passed into time
And the weeks and years took wing
Gentle boy, tender girl
Their love remained still young
For their hearts were full of spring

Then one day they died
And their graves were side by side
On a hill where robins sing
And they say violets
Grow there the whole year round
For their hearts were full of spring

The Four Freshmen

For you, Dan. Wherever you are.

I love it, dj. One ounce of prevention and all that.

Do you know that the ounce is another name for snow leopard?

Perhaps that creature was the one atop Ernest Hemingway's mountain:


The Snows of Kilimanjaro -- Editor's Note:

This short story -- written in 1938 -- reflects several of Hemingway's personal concerns during the 1930s regarding his existence as a writer and his life in general. Hemingway remarked in Green Hills that "politics, women, drink, money and ambition" damage American writers. His fear that his own acquaintances with rich people might harm his integrity as a writer becomes evident in this story. The text in italics also reveals Hemingway's fear of leaving his own work of life unfinished.
In broader terms, The Snows of Kilimanjaro should be viewed as an example of an author of the "Lost Generation", who experienced the world wars and the war in Spain, which led them to question moral and philosophy. Hemingway, in particular, found himself in a moral vacuum when he felt alienated from the church, which was closely affiliated with Franco in Spain, and which he felt obliged to distance himself from. As a result, he came up with his own code of human conduct: a mixture of hedonism and sentimental humanism.

The ounce of the wild covered mountain,
Was lost in a clear champagne fountain,

He couldn't resist,
His last breath with a kiss.

but who cares cause no one is countin'

so much for the tongue-in-cheek onion

Is it possible to say goodnight without a song, folks?


(Vincent Youmans, Billy Rose, Eduard Elisa)

[Recorded May 2, 1961, Los Angeles]

Without a song the day would never end
Without a song the road would never bend
When things go wrong a man ain't got a friend
Without a song

That field of corn would never see a plow
That field of corn would be deserted now
A man is born but he's no good no how
Without a song

I got my trouble and woe but, sure as I know, the Jordan will roll
And I'll get along as long as a song, is strong in my soul

I'll never know what makes the rain to fall
I'll never know what makes that grass so tall
I only know there ain't no love at all
Without a song

[instrumental]

I've-a got my trouble and woe and, sure as I know, the Jordan will roll
And I'll get along as long as a song, is strong in my soul


I'll-a never know what makes that rain to fall
I'll never know what makes the grass so tall
I only know there ain't no love at all
Without a song

Goodnight, my friends.

From Letty with love


FRANK SINATRA - "Without A Song" lyrics

Letty My Love,
....Tell me something good. don't leave a brother hangin'.

From thirty thousand feet above the desert floor I see it there below
A city with a legend, the West Texas city of El Paso
Where long ago I heard a song about a Texas cowboy and a girl
And a little place called Rosa's where he used to go and watch this beauty whirl

I don't recall who sang the song but I recall a story that I heard
And as I look down on this city I remember each and every word
The singer sang about a jealous cowboy and the way he used a gun
To kill another cowboy, then he had to leave El Paso on the run

El Paso City
By the Rio Grande
The cowboy lived and rode away but love was strong he couldn't stay
He rode back just to die in that El Paso sand
El Paso City
By the Rio Grande
I try not to let you cross my mind but still I find
There's such a mystery in the song that I don't understand

My mind is down there somewhere as I fly above the badlands of New Mexico
I can't explain why I should know the very trail he rode back to El Paso
Can it be that man can disappear from life and live another time
And does the mystery deepen 'cause you think that you yourself lived in that other time

Somewhere in my deepest thoughts familiar scenes and memories unfold
These wild and unexplained emotions that I've had so long, but I have never told
Like everytime I fly up through the heavens and I see you there below
I get the feeling sometime in another world I lived in El Paso

El Paso City
By the Rio Grande
Could it be that I could be the cowboy in the mystery
That died there in that desert sand so long ago
El Paso City
By the Rio Grande
A voice tells me to go and seek, another voice keeps telling me
Maybe death awaits me in El Paso

El Paso City
Marty Robbins

Bed Bed Bed
They Might Be Giants

The day is done
The sun is down
The curtains have been drawn
And darkness has descended over everything in town
The covers have been turned and I've got my pajamas on
I've had my fun
I've stretched and yawned and all is said and done
I'm going to bed
Bed bed bed bed bed

I've done so many things today
There's nothing left to do
I ate three meals, I rode my bike, I hung out with my friends
I did my chores, I watched TV, I practiced the guitar
I brushed my teeth, I read my book, and then I sat around
I'm going to bed
Bed bed bed bed bed

Oh it's pointless staying up for even twenty seconds more
When everything has happened and there's nothing else in store
The thing is now to lay my head down, close my eyes, and snore
And so to bed directly I go

The day is done
The sun is down
The curtains have been drawn
And darkness has descended over everything in town
The covers have been turned and I've got my pajamas on
I've had my fun
I've stretched and yawned and all is said and done
I'm going to bed
Bed bed bed bed bed

Bed
Bed bed bed bed bed

I'm going to bed
Bed bed bed bed bed bed bed bed bed

Out in New Mexico, many long years ago
There in a shack on the desert, one night in a storm
Amid streaks of lightnin' and loud desert thunder
To a young Mexican couple, a baby was born;
Just as the baby cried, thunder and lightnin' died
Moon gave it's light to the world and the stars did the same
Mother and Father, both proud of the daughter
That heaven had sent them, Feleena was this baby's name.

When she was seventeen, bothered by crazy dreams
She ran away from the shack and left them to roam
Father and Mother, both asked one another
What made her run away, what made Feleena leave home;
Tired of the desert nights, fartherly grieved to strife
She ran away late one night in the moon's golden gleam
She didn't know where she'd go, but she'd get there
And she would find happiness, if she would follow her dream.

After she ran away, she went to Sante Fe
And in the year that she stayed there, she learned about life
In just a little while, she learned that with a smile
She could have pretty clothes, she could be any man's wife;
Rich men romanced her, they dined and they danced her
She understood men and she treated them all just the same
A form that was fine and rare, dark shining glossy hair
Lovely to look at Feleena was this woman's name.

Restless in Sante Fe, she had to get away
To any town where the lights had a much brighter glow
One cowboy mentioned the town of El Paso
They never stopped dancin' and money like whiskey did flow;
She bought a one-way, a ticket from Sante Fe
Three days and nights on a stage with a rest now and then
She didn't mind that, she knew she would find that
Her new life would be more exciting than where she had been.

The stage made it's last stop, up there on the mountain top
To let her see all of the lights at the foot of the hill
Her world was brighter and deep down inside her
An uncontrolled beating, her young heart just wouldn't be still;
She got a hotel, a room at the Lily Belle
Quickly she changed to a form-fitting black satin dress
Ev'ry man stopped to stare, at this form fine and rare
Even the women remarked of the charm she possessed.

Dancin' and laughter, was what she was after
And Rosa's Cantina had lights, with love in the gleam
That's what she hunted and that's what she wanted
Rosa's was one place, a nice girl would never be seen;
It was the same way, it was back in Sante Fe
Men would make fools of themselves at the thought of romance
Rosa took heed of, the place was in need of
This kind of excitement, so she paid Feleena to dance.

A year passed and maybe more and then through the swingin' doors
Came a young cowboy so tall and so handsomely dressed
This one was new in town, hadn't been seen around
He was so different, he wasn't like all of the rest;
Feleena danced close to him, then threw a rose to him
Quickly he walked to her table and there he sat down
And in a day or so, wherever folks would go
They'd see this young cowboy, showin' Feelena the town.

Six weeks he went with her, each minute spent with her
But he was insanely jealous of glances she'd give
Inside he was a-hurtin', from all of her flirtin'
That was her nature and that was the way that she lived;
She flirted one night, it started a gun-fight
And after the smoke cleared away, on the floor lay a man
Feleena's young lover, had shot down another
And he had to leave there, so out through the back door he ran.

The next day at five o'clock, she heard a rifle shot
Quickly she ran to the door, that was facin' the pass
She saw her cowboy, her wild-ridin' cowboy
Low in the saddle, her cowboy was ridin' in fast;
She ran to meet him, to kiss and to greet him
He saw her and motioned her back, with a wave of his hand
Bullets were flyin', Feleena was cryin'
As she saw him fall from the saddle and into the sand.

Feleena knelt near him, to hold and to hear him
When she felt the warm blood that flowed from the wound in his side
He raised to kiss her and she heard him whisper
"Never forget me - Faleena it's over, goodbye."
Quickly she grabbed for, the six-gun that he wore
And screamin' in anger and placin' the gun to her breast
Bury us both deep and maybe we'll find peace
And pullin' the trigger, she fell 'cross the dead cowboy's chest.

Out in El Paso, whenever the wind blows
If you listen closely at night, you'll hear in the wind
A woman is cryin', it's not the wind sighin'
Old timer's tell you, Feleena is callin' for him;
You'll hear them talkin' and you'll hear them walkin'
You'll hear them laugh and you'll look, but there's no one around
Don't be alarmed - there is really no harm there
It's only the young cowboy, showin' Feleena the town.

Faleena From El Paso
Marty Robbins

Rosalita
Bruce Springsteen

Spread out now Rosie, doctor come cut loose her mama's reins
You know playin' blindman's bluff is a little baby's game
You pick up Little Dynamite, I'm gonna pick up Little Gun
And together we're gonna go out tonight and make that highway run
You don't have to call me lieutenant Rosie and I don't want to be your son
The only lover I'm ever gonna need's your soft sweet little girl's tongue Rosie
you're the one
Dynamite's in the belfry playin' with the bats
Little Gun's downtown in front of Woolworth's tryin' out his attitude on all the
cats
Papa's on the corner waitin' for the bus
Mama she's home in the window waitin' up for us
She'll be there in that chair when they wrestle her upstairs
'Cause you know we ain't gonna come
I ain't here for business
I'm only here for fun
And Rosie you're the one

(CHORUS)
Rosalita jump a little lighter
Se-orita come sit by my fire
I just want to be your love, ain't no lie
Rosalita you're my stone desire

Jack the Rabbit and Weak Knees Willie, you know they're gonna be there
Ah, sloppy Sue and Big Bones Billie, they'll be comin' up for air
We're gonna play some pool, skip some school, act real cool
Stay out all night, it's gonna feel all right
So Rosie come out tonight, baby come out tonight
Windows are for cheaters, chimneys for the poor
Closets are for hangers, winners use the door
So use it Rosie, that's what it's there for

(CHORUS)

Now I know your mama she don't like me 'cause I play in a rock and roll band
And I know your daddy he don't dig me but he never did understand
Papa lowered the boom, he locked you in your room
I'm comin' to lend a hand
I'm comin' to liberate you, confiscate you, I want to be your man
Someday we'll look back on this and it will all seem funny
But now you're sad, your mama's mad
And your papa says he knows that I don't have any money
Tell him this is last chance to get his daughter in a fine romance
Because a record company, Rosie, just gave me a big advance

My tires were slashed and I almost crashed but the Lord had mercy
My machine she's a dud, I'm stuck in the mud somewhere in the swamps of Jersey

Hold on tight, stay up all night 'cause Rosie I'm comin' on strong
By the time we meet the morning light I will hold you in my arms
I know a pretty little place in Southern California down San Diego way
There's a little cafe where they play guitars all night and day
You can hear them in the back room strummin'
So hold tight baby 'cause don't you know daddy's comin'

A pleasant day to all:

May 16 Birthdays:

1905 Henry Fonda, actor (Grand Island, NE; died 1982)
1911 Margaret Sullavan, actress (Norfolk, VA; died 1960)
1912 Studs Terkel, author/journalist (New York, NY)
1913 Woody Herman, musician/bandleader (Milwaukee, WI; died 1987)
1919 Liberace, pianist/entertainer (West Allis, WI; died 1987)
1928 Billy Martin, baseball player/manager (Berkeley, CA; died 1989)
1929 Adrienne Rich, writer (Baltimore, MD)
1953 Pierce Brosnan, actor (County Meath, Ireland)
1955 Olga Korbut, Olympic champion gymnast (Grodno, USSR)
Debra Winger, actress (Cleveland, OH)
1957 Joan Benoit Samuelson, Olympic champion marathon runner (Cape Elizabeth, ME)

Oops. Let me try again.

Henry Fonda - It's the 100 th anniversary of his birthday.

Good morning, WA2K radio.

Boo, I'll tell you several good things, bro, after I can think of them.<smile>

Thanks to edgar and dj, the music station in cyberspace kept pace with the evening. You guys are good.

Well, folks, Sun's up; surfs up. and there's our Raggedy with her celebs.

I'll be back, myself, when I've been fortified.

Whay a surprise. They're saying we're going to have rain today (again). No question about it. We'll soon be going to work in boats. Being true New Englanders of course we'll just shrug our shoulders and say what will be, will be. To echo that philosophy let's ask Doris Day to favor us with her rendition of Que Sera Sera.

Que Sera Sera


Doris Day


When I was just a little girl

I asked my mother, what will I be

Will I be pretty, will I be rich

Here's what she said to me.



Que Sera, Sera,

Whatever will be, will be

The future's not ours, to see

Que Sera, Sera

What will be, will be.



When I was young, I fell in love

I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead

Will we have rainbows, day after day

Here's what my sweetheart said.



Que Sera, Sera,

Whatever will be, will be

The future's not ours, to see

Que Sera, Sera

What will be, will be.



Now I have children of my own

They ask their mother, what will I be

Will I be handsome, will I be rich

I tell them tenderly.



Que Sera, Sera,

Whatever will be, will be

The future's not ours, to see

Que Sera, Sera

What will be, will be.