Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o’ lang syne?
- CHORUS:
- For auld lang syne, my jo,
- For auld lang syne,
- We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
- For auld lang syne.
And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp!
And surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
- CHORUS
We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu’d the gowans fine;
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary foot,
Sin auld lang syne.
- CHORUS
We twa hae paidl’d i’ the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin auld lang syne.
- CHORUS
And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere!
And gie’s a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll tak a right gude-willy waught,
For auld lang syne.
- CHORUS
It’s a little cold for first footing tonight. I will have the money and coal, though. But there’s only so much superstition I’ll put up with when the mercury is below zero.
Annoyed? Frustrated? For revenge fantasies or just letting off steam, pick your favourite (or not-so-favorite) place and drop the bomb on it. (hat tip, Crankylitprof) In the same vein, you too can find out how to build a nuclear bomb (hat tip, Turk). Actually, HOW is the easy part; getting the materials now, that’s the tricky one. And here is a site for some serious armamentophiles.
Then, of course, there’s Badass of the Week. (Hat tip, LabRat). This has potential to make me giggle for quite some time.
As always, there’s some prime academic entertainment HERE.
And a couple webcomics, XKCD, and Inkpen
With these little Russula spp. growing out of it. All this warm, wet, weather has caused the fungi to come up. I’m sure some one will start nibbling on them sooner or later. Protein is protein after all, and there are still signs of squirrel and rabbit in my yard.
From canalphotos.org
In the unseasonably warm weather today, went out and enjoyed warmth, blue sky, and sunshine, though I thought the folks with sandals and shirtsleeves were pushing things a bit, as well as the ones in white pants. I did find several drying and opening milkweed pods, and I was able to take two home. I like the plant; I like the pods, how they kind of look like fish, how they open and the seeds fly out on their parachutes and how they attract butterflies.
The plants I had in my yard did not survive their encounter with the Bosnian backhoe–but now at least my basement is waterproofed. I’m going to put them on the devil strip and the side of the house, and I hope that the milkweed will join the monarda, the thyme, and the mint in attracting butterflies. At least I do have bumbles and honeybees in the front garden.
There were several hawks out today, as well, looking cool as raptors are wont to do.
The wren, the wren, the king of all birds
St. Stephen’s Day was caught in the furze
Although he was little, his honor was great
Jump up me lads and give us a treat
We followed the wren three miles or more
Three miles of more, three miles or more
Through hedges and ditches and heaps of snow
At six o’clock in the morning
Rolley, Rolley, where is your nest?
It’s in the bush that I love best
It’s in the bush, the holly tree
Where all the boys do follow me
As I went out to hunt and all
I met a wren upon the wall
Up with me wattle and gave him a fall
And brought him here to show you all
I have a little box under me arm
A tuppence or penny will do it no harm
For we are the boys who came your way
To bring in the wren on St. Stephen’s Day
We don’t talk much. When you can only speak once a year, on Midnight at Christmas Eve, you learn to adapt. We were there at His birth. The oxen–it was their manger He was laid in. The donkeys, the goats, the sheep, they were there too. A lambskin kept Him warm. And, as always around a barn, there were barn cats. Where there is fodder, there will be mice and there will be cats.
Neither the tall one nor the short one have the hang of hunting. I keep bringing them mice and rabbits to practice with, but they just don’t seem to get it. Noodle and Murphy don’t try as hard, they just take care of it themselves. They say the tall one knows where to get chicken any time. I wish he’d apply himself a little more. But those two take care of the inside. Me, I have to watch the outside. Keep an eye on the perimeter. You never know who might come by.
It’s been over two thousand years since that day in the City of David. The concepts of peace on earth, goodwill to men seem as far away as ever. Like Civilization, though, they seem to be a good thing, if someone would only try them. Us cats know. It doesn’t matter what you call yourself, or how you pray, or in what language. What counts is how we treat each other.
Tinker
Let’s all pour ale on the oaks and hope the sun comes back
I’ve got to learn
to stop reading the New York Times. I’ve long ago given up on the Cleveland paper, which has articles from, you guessed it, the New York Times. Only a day later.
But I just read this article, about a jail in a mostly latino New England town. The big premise is that “There are people in this jail that have committed no crime. They are there due to the crackdown on illegal immigration.”
Excuse me? They are illegal immigrants. They are waiting to be seen by an Immigration judge, prior to deportation. Oh, and if you let them out on bail, a lot of them don’t show up to be deported. These people have committed crimes. Immigration crimes.
I am not anti-immigrant. My family came to this country via Philadelphia and Boston. I know good, hardworking people who are American citzens who were not born here. The folks I know and work with played by the rules. I WANT them as U.S. Citizens, because they respect American laws, and worked hard to get their citizenship.
Look. You want to change immigration law, go lobby and change it. America is great because of the wide variety of people who come here and make a new life for themselves. Do it the right way, though.