Linda Z

Paul C is not dead.

MStar, you're a good sport! Hiway29 said: He's a pouter. When he was coaching the Browns we called him "Bill Bellyache." I'm thrilled the Giants won, and they won me $45 in the football pool...well, they had the Pats' help on that, but I'll credit the team I was rooting for. :)

Like I said, I have no idea if VP saw snow or didn't. He couldn't prove he did even if he were still alive, and no one could prove he didn't, since the incident was supposed to have taken place about 65 years ago. We can voice our suspicions about what really happened, but it's an unverifiable incident/nonincident. You can't even prove it from the weather reports, if what he was describing was supposed to be some sort of vision, seen only by him. Another point about the pitch-black sky, SKyrider: You're comparing an incident VPW talked about back in the 60s with the same incident as Mrs. Wierwille recalled it (or his telling of it) some 60 years later. I don't think I'd count on her book's being 100% accurate. I'm not saying she lied, just that memories get pretty fuzzy after 60+ years. It is also quite possibe she was in the early stages of Alzheimer's disease when she "wrote" that book. (I'd guaran-darn-tee you she didn't write it. Most likely she recorded it, someone transcribed it, and Way Pub edited the hell out of it to sanitize anything that might seem less than favorable re: twi.) It frankly doesn't matter to me whether VPW saw snow or a Sno-Cone or neither. I just think basing anything on a book ghost-written for an elderly woman decades after many of the events in the book took place, isn't going to give you a very solid foundation for the facts.

Hi guys. I have no idea whether he saw a snowsotrm or not, but I think you're sidetracking yourselves. Have you never seen a blizzard when it's pitch black outside? Of course this isn't referring to the color of the snow, but the color of the sky.

My cat Molly was adopted from an animal shelter that she'd lived in off and on for a year. She was adopted a few times but kept running away and they kept catching her. She had obviously been either feral or abused. Most of her tail is missing (vet says it looks like it was broken or cut off--that she wasn't born that way). She still won't let me pick her up, and she will not sit on anyone's lap. However, after a couple years (not months, years), she began to come sit beside me and demand that I pet her. She loves to sit on the arm of the recliner and rub against me, purring like crazy. She would sit with me and let me pet her for hours if I could endure it. I never forced the issue with her. I always have talked to her frequently when I'm home and while I'm feeding her, and I always gave her a gentle head scratch if she came within reach. She started coming closer by sitting on my desk next to my computer stand. I'd alwyas pet her when she did that. She used to get matted fur on her back and, oddly enough, she would sit still for me to brush and cut the matted fur out. I guess it felt good, but it sure didn't fit with her general scaredy-catness. (Thank God that phase is over....what a pain it was.) When my son moved back to town 3 years ago she had only seen him a few times, and she would always hide from him. Now she'll sit with him and beg for her head pats and scratches, just like she does with me. I've had cats that were much more affectionate, but just like people, different cats have different personalities. I always make a deal with my pets when I adopt them, that they have a home for the rest of their lives. So I just accept her and love her for who she is. She's a heck of a mouser, so she makes up in usefulness what she lacks in the affection department. She has absolutely no fear of my two dogs and, in fact, the big pooch is pretty wary of her. He has a tiny scar on his nose that marks the day when he learned who was boss around here. Go figure. It took her years not to be afraid of me, but it took her about 5 minutes to put a 120-lb. dog in his place!

CV = curriculum vitae

Thanks, Pond. I've seen those holders for dogs' water and food dishes. My method works for me because I also have a smaller dog and a cat who drink from the same water dispenser (it's one of those with the bottle you fill that keeps into the dish full). My small dog and my cat might have trouble reaching a dish at a higher level, and I have limited floor space so I don't want two water dishes in the kitchen. The pads don't look bad or anything; they're sorta like a big rectangular, flat disposable diaper.

Congrats, Cindy! I remember how excited I was 3 years ago when I bought my first brand-new car. I even posted a picture of it here. Heh heh. May yours be as wonderful and dependable as mine has been!

When my son's dog came to live with me, I was appalled at the sloppy mess he made of the floor around his water dish. When he drinks, he sounds like a horse drinking, but then he is a small pony of 120 lbs. I'm not talking puddle--I'm talking lake. While at the pet store, I noticed they make these disposable absorbent pads to put on the floor for puppies and other incontinent dogs. I got a brilliant idea. If I put one of those pads under the water dish, maybe I wouldn't have a lake in the kitchen all the time. The one drawback to the puppy-training pads is that they were pricey...about $25 for 24. I didn't care. I figured it was worth it not to have to mop the floor every day. Then one day, as I was passing by the adult diapers section of the drugstore, a lightbulb went off in my head. What about those underpads used for adult bed wetters? I wondered how they'd compare in price and absorbency. Well let me tell ya, they're much cheaper...around $8 for 18 of them, and they're so much more absorbent that they last a lot longer than the puppy-training pads. So if you're tired of cleaning up spilled water from all over your floor, try it. It's been a godsend for me.

I remember when pantyhose hadn't been invented yet, and you had to wear a garter belt and nylons. Some of them had seams up the back, and you had to struggle to get the seams straight. I remember when girls wore dresses or skirts and white gloves to go shopping downtown. I remember when single girls got pregnant by accident, not on purpose. I remember when all the kids I knew looked like the kids in A Christmas Story. I remember when we had not only a milkman but a bread delivery man, an egg man, and a "truck farmer" who came around selling produce in the summer. I remember Pinky Lee and Howdy Doody and the original Mouseketeers. So yes, I'm getting old!

I miss Bumpy.

Skyrider, I remember U. Harry Days. I just meant I apparently never felt the need to burn anything, and no one ever pressured me to do so. It sounds like other people were forced or guilted into doing it, and that would have sucked! Socks, you mean you can walk in your garage? I'm impressed! I used to be able to walk in mine. Then my son moved back to town. The apple doesn't fall far from the garage.

I'm wondering when the big pressure to burn stuff on UH (Burn the Chaff) Day started. I was in from 1972 to 1989 and, to the bet of my recollection, I never burned anything. Nor was I ever pressured to burn/get rid of anything, which is pretty funny given my packrat tendencies. Did this practice become more intrusive in the 90s and beyond? Did "leadership" come to your house and try to coerce you to throw things on the fire? If someone had come around eyeing my Janis Joplin and Beatles vinyl, or my Jack Kerouac books, or any of my treasures, I'd have told them do burn their own darn stuff. I do like the principle of getting rid of excess and unneeded belongings, so I make a few trips each year to the Goodwill store and other charities. But I have a hard time adhering to said principle (see first paragraph), and I surely wouldn't have liked it if someone had tried to decide for me what was excess or unneeded in my life.

From the starter of this thread:

"If the only tool you have is a hammer, it is tempting to treat everything as if it were a nail." --Abraham Maslow. psychologist/researcher "We cannot learn from one another until we stop shouting at one another -- until we speak quietly enough so that our words can be heard as well as our voices." --Richard M. Nixon

This will probably tag along with my last post, but oh well. WD, I do get your point about people relating events as factual that they didn't personally witness. When it comes to the allegations against VPW, I'm positive some are true, and I suspect some are not. Not because anyone intentionally lied, but because it's like playing telephone (or as my old friend from Pennsylvania called it, "Whisper Down the Lane"). The story changes as it passes from one person to the next. And when it's such a volatile subject, emotions get in there and stir things up, making it even more complicated. So I don't have a problem with that particular part of your argument, WD (the non-first-hand part). What I do have a problem with is that you also seem to be demanding that people who did experience things first-hand say those occurrences are "alleged." That, to me, is unreasonable.

Here's my 2 cents. I've refrained from getting into this never-ending argument, but it seems so darn simple to me. WD, unproven does not equal untrue. Period. End of story. No amount of arguing can turn truth into a lie because it isn't proven to your satisfaction. Years ago when I was only 20, I was raped by the leader of a Hell's Angels wannabe gang. The only witnesses were his gang members, who stood by and watched. I finally escaped by jumping into a nearby lake and swimming to the other side. It was 1966, and I was afraid to go to the police, especially after the rapist broke down my apt. door looking for me a couple days later. He put the word out that he wanted me to be "his woman." I was terrified. I ended up leaving the state, but every time I came back to visit I was afraid I'd see him or, more accurately, afraid he'd see me. This is a true story. I can't prove it. And I'll be damned if I feel obligated to say this "allegedly" happened. Since it happened to me, I have a right to speak about it, and then people can decide whether they believe me or not. If they do, fine; if they don't tough cookies. So to sum up: Unproven does not equal untrue.

Roy, have I told you lately that you're an incredible gem? Well, you are!

Raf, you've probably already found this site, but it has 4 pages of discussion about Edney and his book: http://www.alsforums.com/ Still praying.

Cute, very cute! There's a book out about weird things that have been sold on ebay, too.

It's a gun for shooting studs like you. HaHa!! No, it's a gun that shoots studs, like these little nail thingies. I mentioned that cuz Danny and I worked together on remodeling the rec room at Rome City, and we used a stud gun for a lot of the work. He, being in the building trades, wields one much better than I can. Are you yankin' my chain? You really didn't know what a stud gun was?

w n' w, I'm sorry you've lost your faithful friend Maggie. I've been there too, and know how much it hurts. It's so great, though, that she had you to love and be loved by...a far more wonderful life than she'd have had otherwise.

Danny, good point about calling someone you know a butt vs. calling an anonymous poster a butt. (Yeah, I'm a good speller, but I can't operate a stud gun to save my life. It takes all of us with our various longsuits, eh? I love you, Danny, just the way you are.) Years ago a regular GS poster was being (IMO) particularly rough on a brand-new poster. I asked if she would speak (write) so harshly if she were using her real name. She then twisted that to say I was threatening to reveal her identity, which I certainly wasn't. She side-stepped my question. WOULD she speak so harshly under her own name? She never replied to that question. The anonymity of the Internet is a two-edged sword. One one hand, it gives some people the courage to stand up for themselves that they might not have otherwise. We all know what the "on the other hand" is.

Glad you made it through. I've been thinking about you all in California. This hasn't been a great weather year for you!

That's a real heart breaker, Dot. I know sometimes there are circumstances beyond people's control that force them to give up their furry companions, but lots of people are pretty cavalier about it. They should never have pets to begin with, IMO. My late buddy Chester, I rescued just before he was due to be put down. My EmmaDog and MollyCat are rescues. When I adopted them, I promised that they would have a home forever, and I meant it. Emma and Molly had already been shuffled around plenty in their young lives before coming home with me. Emma's a real pi$$er, both literally and personality-wise. When she gets bladder infections, she chews things and has accidents. She barks too much. She hogs the bed. She can be a real pest. I love her despite her flaws, but I have frequently told her over the years that if she weren't so cute and if I hadn't promised, she'd be back in doggie jail. :) Molly took years to lose her feral-cat fear, but now she finally feels safe and craves head scratches and cuddles. I once dated a guy who didn't like Emma much. Guess who's gone and guess who's still here. :D