I can see why he won the No peace Bell Prize
At least for the four-seeable future.
"Seriously, they just pick it up as they go along!"
"Hey buddy, quit fishing for compliments!"
"Itโs cutting hedge technology!"
..."No, Ken do"
He said, "Look at my hair. It used to be so magnificent, but it's completely gone now. My hair can't be saved. But look outside at the forest. It's such a lovely forest with so many trees, but sooner or later they'll all be cut down and this forest will look as bald as my hair."
"What I want you to do..." the man continued. "Is, every time a tree is cut down or dies, plant a new one in my memory. Tell your descendants to do the same. It shall be our family's duty to keep this forest strong."
So they did.
Each time the forest lost a tree, the children replanted one, and so did their children, and their children after them.
And for centuries, the forest remained as lush and pretty as it once was, all because of one man and his re-seeding heirline.
He rasped, "Cuz theyโre still alive!"
After about half an hour the doctor says..."You won't believe this, but i just pulled $1999 out of your bottom"
The man turns around and says "Yeah, I wasn't feeling 2 grand"
I'm quite the music history buff- always have been. My first inkling as a college student was to explore turning this into a career. So I found a music museum, wrote an impassioned essay, and somehow landed the 12-week internship.
When I got there, I met the curator, a woman named Rhonda. Like me, she had grown up enjoying music and always wanting to know more. Thanks to grants and donors' generosity, she had helped continue the museum's legacy of showcasing what might otherwise be lost to history.
The tradition of the museum had always been to let the interns work in the orchestral wing. My assignment in particular was the string section.
Now I didn't know a whole lot about the string family, but I saw some really fine specimens and decided we could perhaps tell a broader story about the progression of the instruments. And so I began studying.
After about a week of studying, I went to Rhonda and asked if we could do something different here. She was very receptive to the idea and introduced me to her assistant, Dr. Will. His PhD was in history, natch, but he still relished having everyone call him Doctor. It was funny.
Dr. Will helped me learn so much about how the family of instruments developed over time, their overall cultural footprint, etc.
Did you know a fiddle and a violin are the same thing? Did you know the viola family dates back to the 16th C.? Vivaldi wrote 25 cello concertos!
I dazzled visitors with tales of the Stradivarius, Amati and Guarneri families. I noted the increase in neck length over time. I reassured them that despite the name catgut, no cat intestines were used in the creation of these instrumentsโbut it sure might be sheep or goat.
Sadly, 12 weeks goes by quickly when you're having fun, and I got enthusiastic letters of recommendation from Rhonda and Dr. Will, and I do miss them. Hello, you two.
I figured I could waltz (sorry) right in to more museum jobs later, but boy, was I mistaken.
I kept interviewing for the job, but after about the 10th cold shoulder, I had to find out what I was doing wrong. I had done such a good job, after all, right??????
So I fucking called the museum
got the guy who interviewed me on the lineโand he wasn't thrilled to even talk to me. But I asked him, sir, why didn't I even get a call back? Weren't my qualifications good?
He said, yes, BUT.......
"...we simply can't hire someone who has exhibited a history of violins."
You know, to make light of the situation the worlds in right now.
"Nope, they were cooked in Greece!"
What we have, here, is a failure to excommunicate.
Second dog leaps up and goes berserk...
They twerk from home.
I was hungry. So I Czeched the fridge. ๐จ๐ฟ Nothing was there, so I was Russian over to the nearest restaurant. ๐ท๐บ I grabbed some Turkey, but it was layered in Greece. I Haiti ting food that isnโt Swedened. ๐น๐ณ๐ฌ๐ท๐ธ๐ช I felt like I could Italy food in my house. ๐ฎ๐น
It was a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away
He picked up the hammer and saw.
(my dad told this all the time. I am continuing on with the tradition...)
I guess that explains why all these old folks are so salty.
-Taxi Vader
But Maury Povich determined that I am not the father.
They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.
Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.
As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.
They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.
Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?
They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.
"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".
They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.
But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.
The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.
And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!
Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?
"ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUoooooUUUUUUUOOOOOOO"
In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and
... keep reading on reddit โกStill No Idea
It was very long period.
I said โI was just trying to make a pointโ.
It's very influenzial on the worldwide market.
everything is still up in the air.
As much as it sucks, itโs better to be safe than SARS-y
IF
He couldnโt see that well
Friend: I had a dream about a dragon last night. Its name was Fire Fawcett.
Me: It's too bad its name wasn't Uther, since it was a PUNdragon.
Friend: ...
Me: *bows*
I've got some really big shoes to fill!
Though I guess that's just a generalization.
Apparently, there was no point to continue drawing the picture
A bus full of housewifes going on a picnic, suddenly fell into a river... they all tragically died.
Each husband cried for a week straight, but one husband continued for more than two weeks.
When asked why he missed his wife so much, he replied miserably: โMy wife missed the bus!!!โ
...because vampires donโt reflect.
So he asked his father for water. The father replied, "Can't you see I'm busy, get it yourself". The child continued to ask his father for water. The father shouted, " If you don't keep quite, I'll come and whip your ass". The child said, " Please bring a cup of water on your way here".
He said, "Look at my hair. It used to be so magnificent, but it's completely gone now. My hair can't be saved. But look outside at the forest. It's such a lovely forest with so many trees, but sooner or later they'll all be cut down and this forest will look as bald as my hair."
"What I want you to do..." the man continued. "Is, every time a tree is cut down or dies, plant a new one in my memory. Tell your descendants to do the same. It shall be our family's duty to keep this forest strong."
So they did.
Each time the forest lost a tree, the children replanted one, and so did their children, and their children after them.
And for centuries, the forest remained as lush and pretty as it once was, all because of one man and his re-seeding heirline.
He rasped, "Cuz theyโre still alive!"
"Seriously, they just pick it up as they go along!"
"Seriously, they just pick it up as they go along!"
Second dog leaps up and goes berserk...
