waysider

Syphilis, in its later stages, is not contagious.

Tuesday music http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QNiuJX0DXRk

WW The song is Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood. Here is the most well known version by The Animals: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Dy8m6jRsyM And here is the very powerful original by Nina Simone: But now I'm intrigued by this new clue. I don't think I've ever heard it. It sounds like something Weird Al might come up with.

I've never been much of a fan of the newer genre Disney Movies. But, those are some really good lyrics and the interpretation by the young lady is quite genuine and convincing. Thanks, Roy. I'm glad you are "part of my world".

Roy I'm so sorry they did that to you. It grieves me to think I was ever associated with an organization that would ever do such a cold hearted thing. Holy Hugs to you, Bro. We'll never turn you away.

I'm just a soul whose intentions are good.

Nope, never directly told I was possessed though while being "ministered to" I remember people including devil spirits in the context. (Mostly *spirit of oppression*.) Well, duh! How could you spend much time in TWI and not feel oppressed? I think people rattled off things that basically described their own feelings.

Well, now, that would probably be my Mother, who taught me the greatest lesson from God's Word I ever learned----"God loves you just the way you are."

Gotta go to work. Anyone want my turn?

I haven't cooked out for a few years now. When I did, I always bought a bottom of the line model at the end of the season. (Usually about $100.00) I replaced it every 5 years or so. It was plenty big enough for three people. Your mileage may vary. It's always a good idea to keep an extra tank of fuel on hand. Nothing worse than running out of gas at the wrong moment. Better yet, see if you can run a dedicated natural gas line from your house. (You will need to change the orifice, though.) As to being outside, one of our primary motivators was always the idea of keeping the cooking heat outside the house. Thus, the hotter the weather, the more we cooked out. That's my 2 cents

Wooly Bully----Sam "The Sham" and The Pharaohs

No, I don't think they planned it. It just oozed from their pores like sweat from a Sumo wrestler.

Amen to that, Brother!

How is "life" being defined?

Oh, swell. NOW you tell me!

Hi, TL We always have a pot of freshly brewed coffee waiting for you.

A big part of what fueled the controversy(IMO) is that the right hand had no idea what the left hand was doing. So, someone in, let's say Wyoming, becomes suspicious of activities in Wyoming. What reason do they have to suspect that similar activity is taking place in New Jersey? Even more important is the fact that we were trained specifically NOT to think such things of our brothers and sisters. There must be something spiritually wrong with us to even "allow the adversary" to plant these ideas in our heads. And if someone from New Jersey should suggest such thoughts to someone in Wyoming--- well, we all know how that would have been received. In Fellow Laborers, we had no phones except for the very expensive public phone at the local truck stop which was situated in the wide open space by the front door. There were no cell phones, no internet, not even a trip to the post office in town without prior approval, as the Post Office was only open during work hours. All lights were to out by midnight and there was no talking. (That part was usually not a problem as we were usually in a chronic state of fatigue.) You never knew who would "rat you out" for expressing doubts so you always walked on egg shells in regard to expressing opinions. Did people still express opinions? Yep-- Until they they got the ceremonious bum's rush . We weren't allowed to ask questions or talk about them. We were supposed to carry on like they had never been there. This part is quite different from the Corps experiences I have seen here that describe how the "offenders" were publicly trashed at lunch. The only thing we knew to do was to walk in pairs or small groups to the local truck stop(Wayside Truck Stop) during our 1/2 hour or so of free time before "lights out" and carefully compare notes, all the while wondering if the other person was trustworthy. And these issues didn't even include the now famous sexcapades!! What else were we supposed to do? We lived in an isolated cloister except for the time we spent at our 9-5 jobs. And surely you wouldn't go there and try to entrust your concerns to the very unbelievers you were trying to convert. It was all a very confusing time and circumstance.

Hiya, Mark Happy Birthday to you!!

Here's hoping it's a good one!

Ry Cooder Jesus On The Mainline

Re: Creativity In my pre-TWI days I wrote constantly-----poems, short stories, lyrics, music, impressions, etc. It just seemed to ooze out of me. Like the old blues song by Junior Parker said, "It's in him and it's gotta come out". The Way, of course, convinced me that was an invitation to evil consequences. Now, even after all these years of being gone, I still struggle to write anything "creative". Maybe it was The Way that changed me, maybe it was a series of life events, or maybe that's just what time does to us all. Now, I play a little bit of jazz and blues. Not very well, I'm afraid. That's not an attempt at humility. I just have no desire to delude myself about my abilities. But, I will add this: I play a style that is rather free-form. I don't make any conscious effort to memorize fancy riffs and runs and what-nots. I just play what ever I "hear" in my head. That's kind of a hard thing to explain to someone who has never been introduced to improvisation. So, anyway, maybe by doing that, I am simply expressing the same creativity that I used to years ago. I've simply found a new type canvas on which to paint.

Yes, one of my very favorite songs.

Nope.(Not that I know of.) I believe you are thinking of H@gh H3fner, not Steve H33fner. It gets confusing sometimes when characters are used instead of letters.

I don't think Wierwille sat and planned his control strategies either. They just flowed from him as fluently as jazz flowed from John Coltrane's horn.