Friday open mic

by

MicrophoneBorrowing a page from J-Walk blog…. and the fact that I really don’t have time right now to ‘scour’, I’m asking to to entertain yourselves… and each other.  (I’m working on a project for a Christmas Party tomorrow night.)

So, I’m opening up the webwaves to you, the loyal Bits & Pieces readers.   Talk about anything you want…. post links, discuss politics or whatever floats your boat.   My only request is that you make it kinda, sorta Safe For Work. 

I’ll try to check in later and see how you’re doing.

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83 thoughts on “Friday open mic”

  4. ve always maintained that human history is more process than personality. This would seem to contradict my assertion that our species has a dire need of individuality, but I think the two are complimentary, indeed. For the process to work there needs to be those humans who, through happenstance or deliberation, recognize when destiny has opened a door wide enough for us all to rush through, or be dragged through kicking and screaming.

    I got into a long and heated debate one night with a friend of mine who asserted that without Edison, or Bell, or Elvis, there would be no Edison, or Bell, or Elvis. Ah, but I claim that someone, maybe much later would have invented the light bulb, and without Edison standing in the way, and claiming DC was the way to go, Tesla’s AC idea would have been implemented much sooner. Bell’s patent on the telephone was filed two hours before another very much like it. Elvis, if you’re wonder how he managed his way into this conversation, thank you very much, was one of the first products of mass marketing. I claim it had very little to do with music or voice, or even personality, but it was part of a process where a Mississippi boy was washed away by something that was going to happen to someone, eventually anyway.

    Okay, let me try to put this all together for you. As a whole, humanity acts more as a wave than a stream. Individuals act as overflow from the pool, cutting new channels, but there has to be that mass, that momentum, from the rest of the river. Don’t ever discount the idea that we humans are very much the same as water. We’re seventy percent of the stuff by mass, you know.

    Somewhere in our past was the first sailor. There was that one person with the idea that water could be navigated, and he set forth to get from point A to point B using a log, a tangle of wood, or maybe a real raft. Someone in our past rigged the first sail, and that is very likely a turning point of a magnitude of a stunning proportion. Can you imagine what that must have looked like to other humans there? Here is this one human with an animal hide tied to a pole on a raft and he’s cruising across the river without paddling, poling, pushing, or anything else known to mankind. He’s grinning and waving at the others and they’re having a fit watching this. That story would get told around the campfire forever. Some would have to see it for themselves. Others, when they did see it, swore that no good would come of it, and it ought to be stopped. What right does man have to be across a river without earning through his own labor, the Grumblers would ask. There are always those too, you know, and they play their part.

    The Grumblers almost always get left behind. The first humans to tame fire were likely confronted with one of their own who swore that stuff couldn’t be trusted, and fire inside of a cave just couldn’t be more dangerous. That guy was likely toted off by a tiger because the rest of the humans were inside the cave with the fire, and he wouldn’t get near the damn thing. That happens a lot too, you know, the Grumblers being toted off by tigers and all.

    What I’m not saying is that all things great and small are inevitable. Likely, there have been artists greater than any we’ve known who died young, were forced into labor unrelated to their craft, or whose works were destroyed. Likely, there have been inventors whose masterpieces have likewise been lost to us all for similar reasons. Certainly, there have been great human minds wiped out by happenstance, and the Grumblers have donned their share of religious garb to worship the gods of status quo just to burn at the stake those who dared suggest that the status quo wasn’t god. That happens a lot too, you know, the Grumblers are still pissed off about the tiger thing.

    Yet do you truly believe, I asked my friend, without that first sailor we would still be landlocked? Would the sail had never been invented or was it, like fire, merely a discovery whose time had come? Going back in time, do you not see that written language was inevitable, poetry was going to happen, and it was just a matter of time before we were all here, maybe not now, but here, and at our very fingertips, literally, the ways and means to express our ideas to other humans, in seconds?

    Here there be tigers, and fire, and Grumblers, and waves, and currents, and sails and us. We here, now, get to decide who and what we are, and what this place will be. Someone undiscovered, like wind and fire, may be that person who just commented on your last effort. Someone who will one day stun the world with genius may at this very moment have written a simple poem of love, and not one soul has noticed. It is all here with us, all of history, all of the future, all of the here, and all of the now. These are incredibly exciting times to create, to breathe into life what our minds do imagine. You can cross that river. You can hold at bay that beast. You can breech that dam, unleash that torrent, and you can, if you simply choose to do so, write.

    Take Care,

    Mike

    Reply

  7. It’s 0:35 am here, I’m not gonna read that, lol:D no offense, Mike, but probably not even tomorrow:D
    Did anyone read it? was it any good? Maybe a summary?:D 😉

    Reply

  11. Good read.
    Unfortunately mankind has become saddled with government bureaucracy, politicians and demagogy.
    It makes me wonder how many “Atlases” may have shrugged because of government interference in our daily lives.

    I have worked damn hard for what I’ve got but sometimes its like hey, WTF. I worked my way through engineering school and there is some slob, an able bodied slob mind you, in front of me in the grocery store doing his purchasing with a government card. Buying better stuff too.

    And now we have a president elect that has said we need to spread the wealth and has also said he doesn’t like our Constitution.

    I am not one of the Grumblers as I have worked torwards obtaining a couple of patents. You know to maybe incrementaly help better the world and maybe make a living too. But there comes a time when a person says hey, this ain’t working no more. Time to get back to the original intent that was once this great republic. Government has strayed too far.

    This new guy coming to power believes that the Constitutuion needs to be rewritten. Possibly through activist judges. He thinks that the Constitution needs to empower the government thus forcing people to serve the government when the Constitution was written to make the government serve the people.

    This same guy was also voted into power by a percentage of public that is extremely ignorant when it comes to history, world politics, local politics, our very own government civics, etc.

    All I can say is that when does a person stop giving of himself? Stop giving of his ideas and of his charity? Let me know. Cause I tell you those able bodied slobs will never give to society. All they know is take.

    Reply

  13. Yeah! I get to pimp my comedy favorites! Whoo Hoo…

    Okay. Want to see insanely funny Swedish Rock Band album covers with commentary? Check out this (there are 5 so far!series:

    http://marcywrites.com/2008/11/20/whaaa-swedish-rock-band-1/

    And lets see. Oh here is a funny foto….Botox or Bangs?

    http://marcywrites.com/2008/10/24/friday-foto-fun-4/

    Have a GREAT holiday season everyone!!! And remember to LAUGH as much as possible in the new year….

    Reply

  17. My thirteen year old son’s literature teacher tasked her class with creating either a poem or short story, he chose a poem. Though i’m not nominating him for poet laureate, I was impressed with the effort of a thirteen year old

    The Unsettling Excursion
    ————————–
    Aghast, I gander upon the perilous sea

    I wonder if it looks back at me

    The old settlement in the haze

    Ordered never to sneak a gaze

    We travel to a place that is unknown

    Fear on faces easily shown

    I shiver vigorously feeling so cold

    Hoping my tales won’t go untold

    I wake in the morning to a world anew

    Flattered I look at the world estrew

    Things I see they surprise me

    I jump up high with a burst of Glee

    We all bask in the glorious sun

    So happy and relieved that we are done

    Many things to explore

    In this land of so much more

    Wow, in unison as if on key

    We never looked back and now we’re free

    I think back to days portrayed

    And how I appeared unafraid

    Wow, we say without a feeling of disarray.

    Reply

  19. One evening a Husband, thinking he was being funny, said to his wife, ‘Perhaps we should start washing your clothes in ‘Slim Fast’. Maybe it would take a few inches off of your butt!’

    His wife was not amused, and decided that she simply couldn’t let such a comment go unrewarded.

    The next morning the husband took a pair of underwear out of his drawer. ‘What the Hell is this?’ he said to himself as a little ‘dust’ cloud appeared when he shook them out.

    ‘April’, he hollered into the bathroom, ‘Why did you put Talcum Powder in my underwear?’

    She replied with a snicker. ‘It’s not talcum powder; it’s ‘Miracle Grow’!!!!!!

    Reply

  22. On the 12th day of the Eurocentrically imposed midwinter festival,
    my Significant Other in a consenting adult, monogamous relationship gave
    to me:

    TWELVE males reclaiming their inner warrior through ritual drumming,

    ELEVEN pipers piping (plus the 18-member pit orchestra made up of members
    in good standing of the Musicians Equity Union as called for in their union
    contract even though they will not be asked to play a note).

    TEN melanin deprived testosterone-poisoned scions of the patriarchal ruling
    class system leaping,

    NINE persons engaged in rhythmic self-expression,

    EIGHT economically disadvantaged female persons stealing milk-products from
    enslaved Bovine-Americans,

    SEVEN endangered swans swimming on federally protected wetlands,

    SIX enslaved Fowl-Americans producing stolen non-human animal products,

    FIVE golden symbo ls of culturally sanctioned enforced domestic
    incarceration, (NOTE: after members of the Animal Liberation Front
    threatened to throw red paint at my computer, the calling birds, French
    hens and partridge have been reintroduced to their native habitat. To avoid
    further Animal-American enslavement, the remaining gift package has been
    revised.)

    FOUR hours of recorded whale songs

    THREE deconstructionist poets

    TWO Sierra Club calendars printed on recycled processed tree carcasses

    and…

    ONE Spotted Owl activist chained to an old-growth pear tree.

    So… Merry Christmas. Happy Chanukah. Good Kwanzaa. Blessed Yule. Rockin’
    Ramadan. Serene Solstice. Divine Dewali. Happy Holidays!

    (unless otherwise prohibited by law)*

    *If you are suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), please
    substitute for this gratuitous call for celebration the alternative
    suggestion that you have a thoroughly adequate day.

    Reply

  26. My contribution. Guess what it means:
    Near a Raven

    Midnights so dreary, tired and weary. Silently pondering volumes extolling all by-now obsolete lore. During my rather long nap – the weirdest tap! An ominous vibrating sound disturbing my chamber’s antedoor. “This”, I whispered quietly, “I ignore”. Perfectly, the intellect remembers: the ghostly fires, a glittering ember. Inflamed by lightning’s outbursts, windows cast penumbras upon this floor. Sorrowful, as one mistreated, unhappy thoughts I heeded: That inimitable lesson in elegance – Lenore – is delighting, exciting…nevermore.

    Ominously, curtains parted (my serenity outsmarted), And fear overcame my being – the fear of “forevermore”. Fearful foreboding abided, selfish sentiment confided, As I said, “Methinks mysterious traveler knocks afore. A man is visiting, of age threescore.”

    Taking little time, briskly addressing something: “Sir,” (robustly) “Tell what source originates clamorous noise afore? Disturbing sleep unkindly, is it you a-tapping, so slyly? Why, devil incarnate!–” Here completely unveiled I my antedoor–Just darkness, I ascertained – nothing more.

    While surrounded by darkness then, I persevered to clearly comprehend. I perceived the weirdest dream…of everlasting “nevermores”. Quite, quite, quick nocturnal doubts fled – such relief! – as my intellect said, (Desiring, imagining still) that perchance the apparition was uttering a whispered “Lenore”. This only, as evermore.

    Silently, I reinforced, remaining anxious, quite scared, afraid, While intrusive tap did then come thrice – O, so stronger than sounded afore. “Surely” (said silently) “it was the banging, clanging window lattice.” Glancing out, I quaked, upset by horrors hereinbefore, Perceiving: a “nevermore”.

    Completely disturbed, I said, “Utter, please, what prevails ahead. Repose, relief, cessation, or but more dreary ‘nevermores’?” The bird intruded thence – O, irritation ever since! -Then sat on Pallas’ pallid bust, watching me (I sat not, therefore), And stated “nevermores”.

    Bemused by raven’s dissonance, my soul exclaimed, “I seek intelligence; Explain thy purpose, or soon cease intoning forlorn ‘nevermores’!” “Nevermores”, winged corvus proclaimed – thusly was a raven named? Actually maintain a surname, upon Pluvious seashore? I heard an oppressive “nevermore”.

    My sentiments extremely pained, to perceive an utterance so plain, Most interested, mystified, a meaning I hoped for. “Surely,” said the raven’s watcher, “separate discourse is wiser. Therefore, liberation I’ll obtain, retreating heretofore -Eliminating all the ‘nevermores’ “.

    Still, the detestable raven just remained, unmoving, on sculptured bust. Always saying “never” (by a red chamber’s door). A poor, tender heartache maven – a sorrowful bird – a raven! O, I wished thoroughly, forthwith, that he’d fly heretofore. Still sitting, he recited “nevermores”.

    The raven’s dirge induced alarm – “nevermore” quite wearisome. I meditated: “Might its utterances summarize of a calamity before?” O, a sadness was manifest – a sorrowful cry of unrest; “O,” I thought sincerely, “it’s a melancholy great-furthermore,Removing doubt, this explains ‘nevermores’ “.

    Seizing just that moment to sit – closely, carefully, advancing beside it, Sinking down, intrigued, where velvet cushion lay afore. A creature, midnight-black, watched there – it studied my soul, unawares. Wherefore, explanations my insight entreated for. Silently, I pondered the “nevermores”.

    “Disentangle, nefarious bird! Disengage – I am disturbed!” Intently its eye burned, raising the cry within my core. “That delectable Lenore – whose velvet pillow this was, heretofore, Departed thence, unsettling my consciousness therefore. She’s returning – that maiden – aye, nevermore.”

    Since, to me, that thought was madness, I renounced continuing sadness. Continuing on, I soundly, adamantly forswore: “Wretch,” (addressing blackbird only) “fly swiftly – emancipate me!” “Respite, respite, detestable raven – and discharge me, I implore!” A ghostly answer of: “nevermore”.

    ” ‘Tis a prophet? Wraith? Strange devil? Or the ultimate evil?” “Answer, tempter-sent creature!”, I inquired, like before. “Forlorn, though firmly undaunted, with ‘nevermores’ quite indoctrinated, Is everything depressing, generating great sorrow evermore? I am subdued!”, I then swore.

    In answer, the raven turned – relentless distress it spurned. “Comfort, surcease, quiet, silence!” – pleaded I for. “Will my (abusive raven!) sorrows persist unabated? Nevermore Lenore respondeth?”, adamantly I encored. The appeal was ignored.

    “O, satanic inferno’s denizen — go!”, I said boldly, standing then. “Take henceforth loathsome “nevermores” – O, to an ugly Plutonian shore! Let nary one expression, O bird, remain still here, replacing mirth. Promptly leave and retreat!”, I resolutely swore. Blackbird’s riposte: “nevermore”.

    So he sitteth, observing always, perching ominously on these doorways. Squatting on the stony bust so untroubled, O therefore. Suffering stark raven’s conversings, so I am condemned, subserving, To a nightmare cursed, containing miseries galore. Thus henceforth, I’ll rise (from a darkness, a grave) –nevermore!

    Reply

  27. And a few Christmas jokes from http://www.wisegeek.com:
    If Santa and Mrs. Claus had twins what do you think they would call them?
    A pair of subordinate clauses.

    What did the bald co-worker say when he received a comb in the office grab bag?
    This is something I’ll never part with.

    How is Christmas like my job?
    I’m the one who does all the work but the old guy with the funny looking suit gets all the credit.

    Do you know how Santa prefaces his Christmas jokes?
    “This one will sleigh you.”

    Reply

  36. Sitting at home one night with his wife, a man is casually tossing peanuts into the air and catching them in his mouth. As the couple take in the latest episode of their favorite program, the man loses concentration for a split second, and a peanut goes into his ear. He tries to get it out, but succeeds only in forcing the thing in awfully deep.

    After a few hours of fruitless rooting the couple decide to go to the hospital, but on their way out of the front door they meet their daughter coming in with her boyfriend.

    The boyfriend takes control of the situation; he tells them he’s studying medicine and that they’re not to worry about a thing. He then sticks two fingers up the man’s nose and asks him to blow, and low and behold, the nut shoots from the ear and out across the room.

    As the daughter and her boyfriend go through to the kitchen to get drinks, the man and his wife sit down to discuss their luck. “So” the wife says, “what do you think he’ll become after he finishes school? A GP or a surgeon?”

    “Well says the man, rubbing his nose, “by the smell of his fingers, I think he’s likely to be our son-in-law.”

    Reply

  41. Ok- I’ll take a stab at this stuff too. (I’m a chick so bear with me…hee hee hee)

    Arab snake scare
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p1_bMLNOj7s

    Masturbating dog
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=40EQqc9PY8U

    Motivational Posters:
    Quickly Children! Get inside Pikachu’s Vagina!
    http://www.funny-games.biz/pictures/1233-quickly-children.html

    Motivational Poster: The Gothopotamus:
    http://www.ebaumsworld.com/pictures/view/239591/

    Poetry Contest Joke:
    The finals of the National Poetry Contest last year came down to two finalists. One was a Duke University Law School graduate from an upper crust family; well-bred, well-connected, and all that goes with it. The other finalist was a red-neck from Southeast Tennessee A & M. The rules of the contest required each finalist to compose a four-line poem in one minute or less and the poem had to contain the word “Timbuktu”. The Duke graduate went first. About thirty seconds after the clock started, he jumped up and recited the following poem:

    Slowly across the desert sand
    Trekked the dusty caravan.
    Men on camels, two by two
    Destination Timbuktu.

    The audience went wild!! How, they wondered could the red neck top that?! The clock started again and the red neck sat in silent thought. Finally, in the last few seconds, he jumped and recited:

    Tim and me, a-huntin’ went.
    Met three whores in a pop-up tent.
    They were three, we was two,
    So, I bucked one and Timbuktu.

    Reply

  46. What will the military look like after four years of the biggest Zero?

    The Air Force will be down to a Piper Cub.

    The Navy will be down to a row boat.

    And the Army and Marines will be fighting over the last M-16.

    Budget cuts you know to pay for all of the humongous bailouts!

    Guard SGT

    Reply

  47. Mike –

    How many Einsteins or Shakespeares have been born & died in some destitute corner of a remote village in a third-world country? How many Teslas or von Brauns have never had access to books or libraries or the resources that would have opened their minds to the sciences? How many Murdochs or Roykos or Firesmiths have never seen a daily newspaper, or experienced a free press…how many have been illiterate their entire lives? How many Columbuses have never seen the sea…wouldn’t even be able to conceive of it?

    Reply

  48. WOW! I’m impressed. You guys do VERY WELL without me. I skimmed the comments. (I’ll have to wait till Sunday to read Mike’s). It’s too long and I’m too drunk right now to read it. I’ve had a few beers and I’m too tired to read it now. And, I’ll be drunker probably have a few more beers tomorrow night. I’ll try to make a few posts in the morning. Keep up the good work. I’m proud of you guys….. well, most of you.

    Reply

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