"Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door." The Statue of Liberty (P.S. Please be so kind as to enter through the proper channels and in an orderly fashion)

Location: Arlington, Virginia, United States

Sunday, April 20, 2008



Anonymous Anonymous said...

I think it's time you started thinking less along classical Greek lines and more upon something much more "familiar" and personal.

America needs a "new epic" in addition to an updated and optimistic mythology. The counter-culture has obliterated the old one.

Longfellow (and the Fireside poets), Irving, Melville, Cooper and to a certain extent the more skeptical Poe and Twain all contributed to the American vision of optimism, but in the last 50 years, we've seen it pretty much burned to the ground.

It's time for an American Renaissance. Not a "Harlem" or "El Paso" one.

7:23 AM  
Blogger John said...

I'm on it.

9:19 PM  
Blogger nanc said...

i love when the farmer's forceful!


6:12 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


As my wise second quarter electrical engineering professor in college used to always say, "No matter how much force you use, you still can't push with a rope!" ;-)

8:55 AM  
Blogger John said...

NOW you tell me.

9:55 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm not as good as I once was, but I'm as good once, as I ever was.

Viva Viagra? Well, not yet. ;-)

11:08 AM  
Blogger John said...


Viagra..."can't push with a rope"...


NOW I get it!

11:53 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

While your at it, get some of this...

I think I need a few more cases...

2:14 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

"Song for St. Tamminy s Day.
"The Old Song.

Of Andrew, of Patrick, of David, & George,
What mighty achievements we hear!
While no one relates great Tammany's feats,
Although more heroic by far, my brave boys,
Although more heroic by far.

These heroes fought only as fancy inspired,
As by their own stories we find;
Whilst Tammany, he fought only to free,
From cruel oppression mankind, my brave boys,
From cruel oppression mankind.

"When our country was young and our numbers were few
To our fathers his friendship was shown,
(For he e'er would oppose whom he took for his foes),
And made our misfortunes his own, my brave boys,
And he made our misfortunes his own.
"At length growing old and quite worn out with years,
As history doth truly proclaim,
His wigwam was fired, he nobly expired,
And flew to the skies in a flame, my brave boys,
And flew to the skies in a flame.

6:18 AM  

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