Tag Archives: Authour Mim

Letter to my Husband 💙💙

I posted this short quote here my Darling Husband

I found this today hunting through my stashed away pictures tucked in a secret place where I collect memories of us.

Then it came to me out of the BLUE

REMEMBER that time I listened to gossip and repeated to you, oh! my life with my husband is tricky sometimes

He hugged me, cuddles, kisses and grooming, lead me to the bed sat me on the edge pulled up his velvet chair looked me squarely in the eyes, that’s when I listen, looking at those black eyes glistening

My heart loves to listen, cause he knows exactly why I love him just the way he is

It’s really hot tentsion between us, I know it’s Teaching time, breathlessly I watch every musscle, twitch and that mouth, oh, excitement in my body takes on in just how powerful he loves me. At this point I’m so vulnerable inside

” Truth will still be truth if not a single person believes it ”

Word’s of wisdom said by my Husband is so powerfully spoken when I watch his lips.

My husband is perfectly suited to me cause he knows exactly why I love him just the way he is when he’s COMFORTING me

There’s a mysterious man who lives in that strong moral principled man

Yes I am devoted to my Husband Sir 💙
( moral of this letter is never debate your husband, watch his face closely and feel his intense glaze looking like a Gladiator into your eyes hold is attention and he will melt, so will you. Enjoy these moments and learn)

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“Diary of a Madman” beginnings, this is, as best I can recall, how the journal starts: Now this is a new beinging. Sweet as 😁😁😁😁

Congratulations my Dear Freind for surviving those dark times of terror. The strength you found in the depth of anguish😔 isolation were harrowing. A journey faced by many poor Broken Souls that are unable to survive the darkest only seen in the depths beyond grief never to be back. This story uniquely defies the odds with deep outstanding of self. So proud to be a part of this journey back to the living a joyest life with loved ones. On and upwards we run hand in hand to the highest Peace 🕊🕊

KINDNESS

Go in the direction of your greatest happiness. (This is referencing the EFT Tapping procedure I was experimenting with at the time!) (1) AIM AT THE TRANCE; (2) TAP IT OUT TO WHERE THE MEMORY (ROOT) CHANGES. (This is a basic suggested sequence!) YOU ARE – THEY ARE . . . YOU LOVE ______ . . . YOU’RE JUST LIKE ______ . . . THEY’RE HERE NOW . . . GIVE WORST SCENARIO . . . PLAY “IT” OUT . . . SAY WHAT HAD BEEN SAID TO THEM . . . SAY/FEEL THE WORST . . . SAY WHAT THEY THINK THE WORLD’S SAYING ABOUT THEM (HOW DO YOU KNOW?) (CAN YOU MAKE IT COME BACK?) IF YOU STILL HAVE EMOTIONS, KEEP TAPPIN’ UNTIL YOU HAVE PEACE

EDITOR: DAZZLED
LATER ON, AUTHORS WILL THROW AROUND EFT
AND THE HISTORY BEHIND EFT – TAPPING.

“Has worked for others on the…

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Editor : Thought of the Day

Subject: THE CARAVAN OF CRAP!

71 miles per day? 3 tons of faeces per day evaporate without even a whiff ? Fake News ?

THE CARAVAN OF CRAP

Have you noticed their great shoes ? The media says they wear flip flops !

The Hondurans in the caravan, the 7,000 people walking north to America, where do they go to the bathroom?

And eat and sleep and store their clothes?

And how is it that after a week on the road they are clean and their hair and clothes are well kept?

How is any of this possible?

And why do these people, supposedly fleeing intolerable conditions in their homeland, carry little flags from their homeland and break into its national anthem when the TV cameras show up?

And speaking of which, for oppressed people, they all seem to be pretty well fed, well groomed and well dressed. Their hair is neat and newly cut, their clothes are clean and in good repair, and they are built like people who have had ample nutrition all their lives, being well developed and, many of them, overweight.

And none of them look dirty or unkempt, like they had been sleeping on the ground for the last week.

There’s just nothing in any of this that makes sense.

Supposedly, these several thousand people spontaneously decided to leave Honduras, walking north in a group, hoping to trek the length of gang-plagued Mexico and present themselves as refugees and prospective Democrats at the American border.

Which, again, makes no sense whatsoever.

And leaves a lot of big questions unanswered, and ignored by the press. Such as, who organized this? Who is paying for it? How have they covered 500 miles in a week?

Seriously. Any number of American “reporters” have walked beside a sympathetic walker and talked about how this particular woman and her children had trekked half a thousand miles over the last week or so.

That’s 71 miles a day.

The best soldiers through history have been able to march 25 miles a day.

How have 7,000 people been fed and watered? And how have they gone to the bathroom? If the average person across the world produces about a pound of solid waste a day, that means that these folks are somehow disposing of more than three tons of faeces each day.

That’s a heck of a lot of crap, even for a Central American roadway.

Provisioning such an army of people – the equivalent of 10 combat battalions in most of the world’s militaries – is a large task. Transporting and distributing the food and water necessary to keep those people moving is a massive chore which the press says nothing about.

The entire enterprise, as a spontaneous ad hoc event, is implausible.

As an orchestrated international attempt to influence an American election, it starts to make sense.

And ought to alarm us.

Unless it’s only Russians we don’t want screwing with our democracy.

Unfortunately, none of this has made the evening news. It’s almost as if the press, in whatever scheme is afoot, gladly accepts its role as propagandists to the American people.

Every story is sympathetic, as if an attempt to enlist viewers and readers in this caravan and the politics it symbolizes.

And so the story is not about an orchestrated attempt to manipulate electoral opinion and violate the borders and laws of the United States, it is about compassion and Trump and xenophobia and racism. It is the October surprise, it is the Blue Wave.

And it is all nonsense.

Because all of these people, if legitimate, have the ability to apply for American asylum in their own country – as do the residents of most nations of the world. We have consulates and embassies for a reason, and this is one of those reasons.

We also have laws and an oath of office for a reason.

Laws, so that “we the people” through our elected representatives clearly and systematically govern our society. Law is the means by which the people express and exercise their sovereignty. Disobedience to law is disobedience to the will of the people, it is the subverting of their sovereignty and franchise.

Breaking the law is denying you the vote. Your vote elects representatives – lets you pick the country’s direction – and the representatives write the law. If that law is ignored, your representation becomes meaningless.

You get screwed.

And the oath of office?

Members of Congress – even Democrats – swear an oath to “bear true faith and allegiance” to the Constitution, which establishes our system of laws and specifically charges the Congress with making the rules of naturalization and immigration.

Who comes across the border and under what conditions they can stay is a constitutional responsibility of the Congress. That is to be determined by a congressional vote, not by a Honduran mob.

Failure to insist on that – even for Democrats – is a violation of your congressman’s oath of office.

So there is not a Democrat or Republican response to this travelling army of invaders – there is only an American response.

And that is: Turn around and go home.

Because the law of the United States does not allow a mass entry like this. The law does not declare the borders open.

If Democrats and progressives don’t like that, they can try to change the law. If America’s progressives want open borders and believe all the world’s people have a right to live in the United States – as they say they do – then they should adjust immigration law accordingly.

But until then, if they are to keep their oaths of office, they must stand for the law and the border.

And they must tell their surrogates to turn around and go home.

This caravan does not shit. That’s what makes them so fast. Believe the caravan is legit and you have to believe Dr Ford was accosted by Kavanaugh.

So far, only one news organization, Fox has sent an investigative reporter to one of these countries. She made the uncomfortable observation that over 1000 backpacks were new and all the same.

Editor thought of the day😁

A GRAMMAR NAZI is for the most part someone older than you who says, “Look, sunshine, if you can’t be bothered paying attention to the small details in your sentences, why should anyone take seriously the issues you discuss in those same sentences?” After half a century of wrestling with the complexities of the English language, I fail to see how caring enough to want to get the grammar right can or should make someone an object of derision.

We lacked this nasty little term back in the day. Instead, we had teachers, lecturers, editors & sub-editors who were passionate about the language & tried to make sure we were too. None was scarier than the legendary H. G. Kippax AO, drama critic & Associate Editor of the SMH for many years.

H.G. was a grim, grey old man when I encountered him in 1973. He seemed at least 100, though Wikipedia tells me he was just over 50. He never smiled – not that anyone ever did in that gloomy fourth-floor corner of the old Fairfax building. Dark coats & cardigans predominated , the paintwork was grey-green & the woodwork thick with layers of ancient varnish. Many men looked as if they were walking out of their oncologist’s office having just heard the worst.

Every night around seven I’d edge into his office with a damp galley proof of the next day’s Letters page. Since this was the one page that lacked hard news, it would be fair to assume it would be the first finished. It was often the last. H.G. would labour for hours over his corrections, until the revised sheet looked like a kindergarten kid’s first efforts with a crayon. Sometimes every paragraph had an addition or excission. I counted 73 one night, though this was probably not the record.

H. G. Kippax had a particular fixation on the humble comma. His eye for a misplaced comma was terrifying to watch. At times he bordered on the obsessive. Nobody except H. G., it seemed, had any idea where the intrusive little brutes should go. He’d rewrite the editorial as well as correspondents’ letters. I raised an eyebrow once, unwisely. “Surely that’s a bit dodgy legally?” He glared across his enormous desk. “Dear boy, do you think for one moment I’m about to let other people dictate the Herald’s standards?”

Years later, as a teacher, I realised how hard it is to imbue a sense of how & where the various punctuational devices of English should be deployed. The language contains far too many rules & just as many exceptions. Unless you’ve been given a basic grounding early in your schooling, when rote learning is easiest, the guidelines can be overwhelming & too confusing for most. The easiest way, I found, was to let undergraduates use their common sense. “When you’re writing a long sentence,” I’d say, “read it out aloud. That point where you naturally pause is probably where a comma belongs, because it means the sentence is changing direction.”

(Semi-colons were a whole different kettle of worms. A prof. of mine at the U. of Windsor, when I was starting out as a teacher, responded to a query about plagiarism by chuckling, ‘Any time you encounter a first-year student who’s used a semi-colon correctly, you’re probably looking at someone who’s copied someone else’s work.’)

Since schools stopped teaching the basics, it’s become harder & harder to get students to understand that ‘Oh well, what does it matter – you know what I mean anyway, OK?’ is not much of an excuse. H.G.Kippax’s obsession with commas wasn’t all that bad, as obsessions go. If people don’t stand up for precision in language, soon enough none of us will be able to say exactly what it is we mean.

Cheers, folks. Hope this little diatribe hasn’t sent anyone into a coma. Or comma.

JOKE 😁

A man walks out to the street and catches a taxi just going by. He gets into the taxi, and the cabbie says, “Perfect timing. You’re just like Frank.”

Passenger : “Who?”

Cabbie : “Frank Feldman. He’s a guy who did everything right all the time. Like my coming along when you needed a cab; things happened like that to Frank Feldman every single time.”

Passenger : “There are always a few clouds over everybody.”

Cabbie : “Not Frank Feldman. He was a terrific athlete. He could have won the Grand-Slam at tennis. He could golf with the pros. He sang like an opera baritone and danced like a Broadway star and you should have heard him play the piano. He was an amazing guy.”

Passenger : “Sounds like he was really something special.”

Cabbie : “There’s more. He had a memory like a computer. He remembered everybody’s birthday. He knew all about wine, which foods to order and which fork to eat them with. He could fix anything. Not like me. I change a fuse, and the whole street blacks out. But Frank Feldman could do everything right.”

Passenger : “Wow, what a guy!”

Cabbie : ‘He always knew the quickest way to go in traffic and avoid traffic jams. Not like me, I always seem to get stuck in them. But Frank, he never made a mistake, and he really knew how to treat a woman and make her feel good. He would never answer her back even if she was in the wrong; and his clothing was always immaculate, shoes highly polished too. He was the perfect man! He never made a mistake. No one could ever measure up to Frank Feldman.”

Passenger : “How did you meet him?”

Cabbie : “I never actually met Frank. He died and I married his wife.