tac
Supporter of the Cape Meares Lighthouse Restoration Fund
Steve post reminds me of a joke that circulated here a while ago. I should mention that this part of England relates in many ways to the Deep South of the States: i.e. it is thought by Northerners that we are backward or laid back. Similarly few move from here to retire (other than abroad) - it is the others that retire here. lol
“A city slicker was relating to the old gentleman sat outside a village pub about how much he did and earned in the wealthy city he worked in. The old fella said to him, by way of reply, so it takes you all year to earn money to come here for your holiday? Yes, was the reply. But, said the old chap, it only takes us two weeks to take it all from you”
Remember it’s “FEETBALL” not football…ever seen a single footed FEETBALL player ?
Fred Mills said:Why is US Football (Feetball) called football when it is gripped and ran or passed for almost all of the game? Also, how boring is Soccer Feetball anyway?
Remember it's "FEETBALL" not football....ever seen a single footed FEETBALL player ?
Fred Mills said:almost as rare as a one-armed paperhanger.............or a one legged man in an ass-kicking contest..............then again Tom Dempsey only had half a foot as did Rocky Blier of the Steelers.............;)
Remember it's "FEETBALL" not football....ever seen a single footed FEETBALL player ?
Grandad was reminiscing about the good old days…
"When I were a young fella, in dream time, my mother would send me down t’ corner store wi’ a
shilling, and I’d come back wi’ five pounds o’ potatoes, two loaves o’ bread, three pints o’ milk, a
pound o’ cheese, a packet o’ tea, an’ ‘alf a dozen eggs, and a packet o’ tobacco.
Yer can’t do that now.
Too many f*cken security cameras.”
Related to astroturf on football fields, as a kid I always thought being elected “Stephenson County Pork Queen” would be a dubious distinction for a beautiful young lady.
Ken, my son,
To run and pass, or even stand and defend on the line, requires players to have two legs and two feet…thus, it should be called “Feet Ball”…Feet is the multiple of foot.
But, alas, the concept is too simple for weak minds to understand, I guess, and we will all be stuck with “Football” for the rest of our lives.
I find watching most so called “Sports”, Very boring…I think due to big business getting involved; it’s nothing more than expensive “Entertainment”, and not really a sport any more.
But; some people enjoy the whole thing, and are free to enjoy whatever they want…
I hope they have fun, and enjoy themselves in good health.
Fred Mills said:
Ken, my son,To run and pass, or even stand and defend on the line, requires players to have two legs and two feet…thus, it should be called “Feet Ball”…Feet is the multiple of foot.
There’s nothing in the rulebook that requires any player to have feet…only that he be able to play the game…
It would sure take away a bit of the boredom to watch a man with one foot try to take part in a feetball game…but what do I know…
More boring than World Cup Feetball with two feeted persons? WoW! that’s almost down to the level of watching fishing on TV.
While this discussion of the rulse of World Cup Feetsball is interesting, I have another one for you…
I recently picked a new primary care doctor. After two visits and exhaustive lab tests, he said I was doing ‘fairly well’ for “a man of my age.” A little concerned about that comment, I couldn’t resist asking him, ‘Do you think I’ll live to be 100?’
He asked, ‘Do you smoke tobacco, drink beer, wine or hard liquor?’
‘Oh no.’ I replicd. ‘I’m not doing drugs either!’
Then he asked, 'Do you eat rib-eye steaks or bbq ribs?
'I said, ‘Not much… my former doctor said that all red meat is very unhealthy.’
‘Do you spend a lot of time in the sun, like playing golf, boating, sailing, hiking, or bicycling?’
‘No, I don’t,’ I said.
He asked, ‘Do you gamble, drive fast cars, or have a lots of sex?’
‘No,’ I said…
He looked at me and said…
‘Then, why do you even care?’
A female CNN journalist heard about a very old Jewish man who had been going to the Western Wall to pray, twice a day, every day, for a long, long time.
So she went to check it out. She went to the Western Wall and there he was, walking slowly up to the holy site.
She watched him pray and after about 45 minutes, when he turned to leave, using a cane and moving very slowly, she approached him for an interview.
“Pardon me, sir, I’m Rebecca Smith from CNN. What’s your name? ;
“Morris Feinberg,” he replied.
“Sir, how long have you been coming to the Western Wall and praying?”
;
“For about 60 years.”
“60 years! That’s amazing! What do you pray for?”
“I pray for peace between the Christians, Jews and the Muslims.”
“I pray for all the wars and all the hatred to stop.”
“I pray for all our children to grow up safely as responisble adults, and to love their fellow man”.
“How do you feel after doing this for 60 years?"
“Like I’m talking to a freaking wall.”
HORSES
One day while he was at the track playing the ponies and all but losing his shirt, Mitch noticed a priest who stepped out onto the track and blessed the forehead of one of the horses lining up for the 4th race.
Lo and behold, that horse - a very long shot - won the race…
Before the next race, as the horses began lining up, Mitch watched with interest the old priest step onto the track. Sure enough, as the 5th race horses came to the starting gate the priest made a blessing on the forehead of one of the horses.
Mitch made a beeline for a betting window and placed a small bet on the horse. Again, even though it was another long shot, the horse the priest had blessed won the race.
Mitch collected his winnings, and anxiously waited to see which horse the priest would bless for the 6th race. The priest again blessed a horse.
Mitch bet big on it, and it won. Mitch was elated… As the races continued the priest kept blessing long shot horses, and each one ended up coming in first.
Bye and bye, Mitch was pulling in some serious money. By the last race, he knew his wildest dreams were going to come true. He made a quick dash to the ATM, withdrew all his savings, and awaited the priest’s blessing that would tell him which horse to bet on.
True to his pattern, the priest stepped onto the track for the last race and blessed the forehead of an old nag that was the longest shot of the day. Mitch also observed the priest blessing the eyes, ears and hooves of the old nag.
Mitch knew he had a winner and bet every cent he owned on the old nag.
He then watched dumbfounded as the old nag come in dead last. Mitch, in a state of shock, made his way down to the track area where the priest was.
Confronting the old priest he demanded, ‘Father! What happened?
All day long you blessed horses and they all won. Then in the last race, the horse you blessed lost by a Kentucky mile. Now, thanks to you I’ve lost every cent of my savings - all of it!’.
The priest nodded wisely and with sympathy… ‘Son,’ he said, 'that’s the problem with you Protestants, you can’t tell the difference between a simple blessing and last rites.
W. Chas. Ronolder IV said:
A female CNN journalist heard about a very old Jewish man who had been going to the Western Wall to pray, twice a day, every day, for a long, long time.So she went to check it out. She went to the Western Wall and there he was, walking slowly up to the holy site.
She watched him pray and after about 45 minutes, when he turned to leave, using a cane and moving very slowly, she approached him for an interview.
“Pardon me, sir, I’m Rebecca Smith from CNN. What’s your name? ;
“Morris Feinberg,” he replied.“Sir, how long have you been coming to the Western Wall and praying?”
;
“For about 60 years.”
“60 years! That’s amazing! What do you pray for?”“I pray for peace between the Christians, Jews and the Muslims.”
“I pray for all the wars and all the hatred to stop.”
“I pray for all our children to grow up safely as responisble adults, and to love their fellow man”.
“How do you feel after doing this for 60 years?"
“Like I’m talking to a freaking wall.”
Sigh, ain’t it the truth! Gotta give him credit for trying, though.
*** I liked standing on the bridge wing at sunrise with salt spray in my face and clean ocean winds whipping in from the four quarters of the globe - - the ship beneath me feeling like a living thing as her engines drove her swiftly through the sea.
*** I liked the sounds of the Navy - the piercing trill of the boatswains pipe, the syncopated clang of the ship's bell on the quarterdeck, the harsh squawk of the 1MCship-wide announcing system, and the strong language and laughter of sailors at work.
*** I liked Navy vessels -- nervous darting destroyers, plodding fleet auxiliaries and amphibs, sleek submarines and steady solid aircraft carriers.
*** I liked the proud names of Navy ships: Midway, Lexington , Bunker Hill, Saratoga, Coral Sea, Antietam, Valley Forge and Shangri-La- - memorials of great battles won and tribulations overcome.
*** I liked the lean angular names of Navy "tin-cans" and escorts - - Barney, Dahlgren, Mullinix, McCloy, Damato, Leftwich, Mills, Stickell, Noa, Paul, Coontz, T.C. Hart, Glover, McClusky - - mementos of heroes who went before us. And the names of cruisers - - San Jose, San Diego, Los Angeles, St. Paul, Chicago, Vincennes- - named for our cities.
*** I liked the tempo of a Navy band blaring through the topside speakers as we pulled away from the oiler after refueling at sea.
*** I liked Liberty Call and the spicy scent of a foreign port.
*** I even liked the never-ending paperwork and all-hands working parties as my ship filled herself with the multitude of supplies, both critical and mundane in order to cut ties to the land and carry out her mission anywhere on the globe where there was water to float her.
*** I liked sailors, officers and enlisted men from all parts of the land, farms of the Midwest, small towns of New England , from the cities, the mountains and the prairies, from all walks of life. I trusted and depended on them as they trusted and depended on me – for professional competence, for comradeship, for strength and courage. In a word, they were "shipmates"; then and forever.
*** I liked the surge of adventure in my heart, when the word was passed: "Now set the special sea and anchor detail - all hands to quarters for leaving port," and I liked the infectious thrill of sighting home again, with the waving hands of welcome from family and friends waiting pier side.
*** The work was hard and dangerous; the going rough at times; the parting from loved ones painful, but the companionship of robust Navy laughter, the "all for one and one for all" philosophy of the sea was ever present.
*** I liked the serenity of the sea after a day of hard ship's work, as flying fish flitted across the wave tops and sunset gave way to night.
*** I liked the feel of the Navy in darkness -- the masthead and range lights, the red and green navigation lights and stern light, the pulsating phosphorescence of radar repeaters - they cut through the dusk and joined with the mirror of stars overhead. And I liked drifting off to sleep lulled by the myriad noises large and small that told me that my ship was alive and well, and that my shipmates on watch would keep me safe.
*** I liked quiet mid-watches with the aroma of strong mid-watch coffee – the lifeblood of the Navy permeating everywhere.
*** And I liked hectic watches when the exacting minuet of haze-gray shapes racing at flank speed kept all hands on a razor edge of alertness.
*** I liked the sudden electricity of "General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battle stations," followed by the hurried clamor of running feet on ladders and the resounding thump of watertight doors as the ship transformed herself in a few brief seconds from a peaceful "cruiseship" to a weapon of war -- ready for anything.
*** And I liked the sight of space-age equipment manned by youngsters too young to drive their dad's car who were clad in dungarees and wore sound-powered phones that their grandfathers and great grandfathers would still recognize.
*** I liked the traditions of the Navy and the men and women who made them. I liked the proud names of Navy heroes: Halsey, Nimitz, Perry, Farragut, John Paul Jones, David R. Ray and Burke. A sailor could find much in the Navy: comrades-in-arms, pride in self and country, mastery of the seaman's trade. An adolescent could find adulthood.
*** In years to come, when sailors are home from the sea, they will still remember with fondness and respect the ocean in all its moods the impossible shimmering mirror calm and the storm-tossed green water surging over the bow. And then there will come again a faint whiff of stack gas, a faint echo of engine and rudder orders, a vision of the bright bunting of signal flags snapping at the yardarm, a refrain of hearty laughter in the wardroom and chief's quarters and mess decks.
*** Gone ashore for good they will grow wistful about their Navy days, when the seas belonged to them and a new port of call was ever over the horizon.
*** Remembering this, they will stand taller and say... "I WAS A SAILOR ONCE AND I WOULD DO IT AGAIN."
"Any man who may be asked in this century what he did to make his life worthwhile, I think he can respond with a great deal of pride and satisfaction ... I served in the U. S. Navy."
John F. Kennedy
On the other hand, if I begin to miss the Navy too much, I will tie two bricks together with a short length of line, toss it around my neck like binoculars, then go stand on the back porch on a rainy night from midnight 'till 4 am until the feeling passes. :lol:
Ken Brunt said:Fred Mills said:
Ken, my son,To run and pass, or even stand and defend on the line, requires players to have two legs and two feet…thus, it should be called “Feet Ball”…Feet is the multiple of foot.
There’s nothing in the rulebook that requires any player to have feet…only that he be able to play the game…
I see what Fr. Fred is driving at, but…have you ever tried to kick a ball with both feet at the same time easily lol
