“If the Bill of Rights contains no guarantee that a citizen shall be secure against lethal poisons distributed either by private individuals or by public officials, it is surely only because our forefathers, despite their considerable wisdom and foresight, could conceive of no such problem.”
― Rachel Carson, Silent Spring
He might be THE President, but for me, the jury is still out whether he is mine. We'll see. He could win me over the way Clinton did.
Back when I first started working for Hyatt and doing banquets, I went through a spell of overcooking the broccoli. I'd put 500 portions in the steamer, and let it go a minute too long, and instead of being pretty and green, it was the drab green color of an Army tank. And I'd have to go get 8 more cases and try again.
One night it was a close call. It was just a LITTLE overcooked, so I went with it.
As we are plating up, the chef is giving me dirty looks, and the broccoli I thought was just a little overcooked didnt look so good anymore.
At some point I said to the chef "Chef, I'm ashamed that your broccoli is not what its supposed to be"
He looked at me, and took a portion of broccoli and tossed it in the trash can.
"Its not MY broccoli" he said.
I never overcooked the broccoli again.
So if somehow it slips out of my mouth in the next four years that Trump is "not my President", that will be what I am talking about.
So Trump, Putin, and Clinton all show up to the Gates of Heaven at the same time. St Peter says “I can only let one of the three of you in.”
So Donald steps forward and says ”I gave all my money to Charity”
Then Hillary steps forward and says “I fought for the women and the children of the world all my life”.
Putin gives Peter his best innocent Commie smirk and says “I’m knowing now the stpeter@pearlygates.com” and winks.
Peter raises his arms in glory and says, in Russian:
"Заходи оттуда Владмир, мой товарищ, и сделать себя как дома прямо сейчас!"
which translates roughly to:
“Come inside from there Vladmir, my comrade, and making yourself at home now!"
Two from Frederick Buechener
"Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back--in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you."
"If there is in heaven or on earth or under the earth anywhere any justification for my presence at this table in this room it is that I have something so good to say that I can be forgiven everything else if I will only say it. I must believe that I have such a thing to say. I do not always believe it. Let somebody else now say it for me."
