On Wednesday 23rd July 2008 issue of My Paper there was a short article on page A4 which was headlined “Fined for Pushing Drunk who Hit Him in the Face”.

 

The article starts like this:

 

“A young Korean man was fined the maximum of $1,000 yesterday for pushing a drunk man who had hit him in the face”

 

The guy who was pushed fell and suffered injuries.

 

But hang on a tick. I don’t get it.

 

If a drunk man came to me and punched me, can’t I push him away? So the drunk got injured. But he was drunk and he punched me first. I really, really don’t get it.

Take a look at the article and let me know what you think.

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It’s been ages but I remember…. this brought a smile to my face!

Poor feller....

Poor feller....

The noise from the party went from a buzz to a chatter to a cacophony and finally into white noise. That’s when Horace started to speak.

 

“Hello”, he said to the pretty, slim 32 year old in all white. He smiled a dazzling smile and looked straight into her moist and dancing eyes. He acted like he was in love but his heart was elsewhere.

 

You see, Horace was a unique medical specimen.

 

He had an artificial heart.

 

Later on in the same party, Gilbert sniffed his martini took a sip and contemplated its taste. He looked around, saw a pretty, slim 32 year old in all white, downed the drink and proceeded to her.

 

“Hello”, he said with a dazzling smile and looked straight into her moist and dancing eyes. He thought he was in love but his head was somewhere else.

 

You see, Gilbert was a unique medical specimen.

 

He had an artificial brain.

 

The party went on. Things happened. People came, people drank, people left.

 

The party ended.

 

The pretty lady in white went home with him.

I left the house intent on causing havoc. I was single tracked about that. I put on my clothes and shoes violently and deliberately. I hammered the elevator buttons and charged out of the door.

The sun was glaring. I was hot. This was good because the heat would make me more prone to causing focused and vociferous havoc.

The first person I saw, I was going to kick his head in. If it was a woman, I’ll kick her head in as well. If it was an animal, better still. I’ll kill it. And degut it. And probably paste it all over the inside of the elevator. No, I’ll keep some of the entrails and cook it in a curry and serve it to my neighbor with cyanide for good measure.

Yeah. That’s what I’d do.

The first person I saw was a really cute 4 year old girl. Totally adorable.

I cussed.

I went back home and had a cup of chamomile tea with way too much honey.

Cookie Monster and his On Line Trauma

Cookie Monster and his On Line Trauma

Love was walking down the street.

No, not the type which you feel deep inside your heart and your soul.

Love was really, really, walking down the street.

When I first saw Love walking down the street, I didn’t know it was Love.

But I smiled.

I don’t know why. But I smiled.

So I asked my friend, “Who is that walking down the street”?

My friend answered, “Love”.

I followed Love.

As I followed love down the street, unknown to him, I noticed a lot of people smiling, as I had.

I was confused.

Why were people smiling at love?

I continued to follow.

Love just walked. Steadily. Love didn’t rush. Love was just Love.

As I followed Love, I forgot where I was.

I just wanted to follow Love.

I loved what Love was doing but I didn’t know why.

I followed with content.

I followed and followed.

Suddenly.

Love stopped and turned slowly towards me.

I stopped. I was scared.

Love came forward.

I tentatively stepped forward.

I was face to face with Love.

I was trembling. I didn’t know what do to.

Love looked at me.

I cried.

I stepped slightly forward.

I hugged Love. Love didn’t hug me. Love didn’t need to.

I hugged Love.

I wept and wept and wept and my weeping turned to laughter.

I didn’t know why and I didn’t know how.

I continued down the street.

 

 

43 years has passed.

 

It’s a funny lapse of time.

 

Young enough to remember my youth.

 

Old enough to consider earthly mortality.

 

Hence, I’m at the threshold.

 

To decide

 

How do I, me, live the rest of my life?

 

Not the way I have

 

That’s crystal

 

But how?

Capital punishment, also known as the death penalty, is the execution of a person by the state as punishment for a crime. Crimes that can result in a death penalty are known as capital crimes or capital offences. The term capital origins from Latin capitalis, literally “regarding the head” (Latin caput). Hence, a capital crime originally was to be punished by the loss of the head.

from wikipedia

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What really fascinated me was that “regarding the head” in Latin is caput. So, if we say, some one has gone “kaput” what does that actually mean?

Boy about to catch frisbee... or his is?

Answer to follow….

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