Stormy Weather

Stormy Weather

I love cowboy stories, crickets and grasshoppers, a walk in the tall grass and stormy weather that kicks in suddenly. That is why I love Kansas in the summer.

Here I stand

Hier stehe ich und kann nicht anders!
Gott helfe mir,
Amen!
I cannot and will not recant anything,
for to go against conscience is neither right nor safe.
Here I stand, I can do no other, so help me God.
Amen.
Martin Luther

Here I stand

April 2, 1521, If you're Martin Luther, appearing before the Imperial Diet and the Holy Roman Emperor, saying "Here I stand," you're making history. If you are a white egret standing on a post in Galveston Bay, taking a poop, you are just pooping. 

So context makes all the difference.

Unspoken Unseen

Cat Watch

Is it better to be seen 
and not heard 
Or heard and not seen 
I mean, one has the advantage 
Of beauty in silence 
The other 
Of speaking
with nary a look of disdain 
by others who just like to complain.

Contrary, you say when I’m not 
It’s a fact, 
nothing more, nothing less 
Not even my best 
So, I say or I won’t 
What’s the difference 
Who knows if it’s me You don’t see 
In the end, who knows 
If I speak to the wind 
I’ll blend in with the trees 
And sway this way and that 
Just as I please

The Sayings of Purzil Crofe

Clock, n. A machine invented by man to tell how little time remains.

Purzil Crofe

The Sayings of Purzil Crofe

A busy man complained one day, “I have no time.” 

“What’s that you say?” cried his friend a lazy fizz. 
“You have, sir, all the time there is. 
And plenty too, don’t doubt you do.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Now, Merry sir, won’t you tarry? 
Have a glass with me of sherry.
What’s a moment, more or less.” 

To this the busy man replied, 
“If I die and go to hell, 
How shall I pay the devil’s due?” 

“Alas, sir, I know only this,
Fain is the young man to waste his time, 
A man is old and little time remains 
He dies and loses both time and wealth.”

So says Purzil Crofe, from the Devil's Dictionary, more or less

How to Treat the Flu

I am "sicker than a dog," meaning for the last three days I have had the heebie-jebbies, and bounce between cold chills and a hot sweaty fever. I have the flu, day three. I have all the usual symptoms and things have not improve.

Despite my diet which consists of mostly water, some fruit juice and two pieces of toast in the morning, I sensed nausea coming on. How could there be any vomitus to toss? With nothing to lose, I stuck my index finger down the back of my throat and within a few minutes, I was rewarded less than half a cup of something resembling spittle.

Surprise, I feel better, not great, but better than the pounding headache and fever I have had all day. Well enough to see if the internet could explain the turn of events. The explanation is simple - flu is a virus that attacks the stomach and intestines. Vomiting removes some of the virus. And if the flu virus is located in the intestines, then diarrhea is a symptom. I was spared this doggy-indignity.

Feeling better, I was going to go to the pharmacy to buy some aspirin and bring down the fever.

Aspirin is a no no.

Most common flu viruses are rotavirus or norovirus, which can't reproduce when the body experiences a mild fever of 100 degrees. Aspirin was used in the massive influenza flu epidemic of 1918-1919 when an estimated 30 to 50 million people were killed, more than the just concluded Great War. To quote modern doctors:

"High aspirin dosing levels used to treat patients during the 1918-1919 pandemic are now known to cause, in some cases, toxicity and a dangerous build up of fluid in the lungs, which may have contributed to the incidence and severity of symptoms, bacterial infections, and mortality."

http://phys.org/news/2009-10-aspirin-misuse-flu-pandemic-worse.html 

Voltaire lived here - Colmar

Actually, Voltaire only stopped by for a drink at the Maison des Tetes (House of Heads), and lived in an apartment nearby along with Émilie du Châtelet and Françoise de Graffigny.

What, you ask, does this mean to the cranky old man. My mother's family came from the tiny village of Graffigny in nearby Lorraine, France.

Maison des Tetes, Colmar, France

French or German, like a game of tag, Alsace has changed hands many times. Once part of the Holy Roman Empire, it became part of France in the 17th century. Germany took it back after the Franco-Prussian War in 1871. Back it bounced to France after World War I.  Then Hitler incorporated it into the Third Reich during World War II. Today it is French again, but at home almost half the adults speak Alsatian, a German dialect, and in the restaurants, one hears quite a bit of German from tourists.

Descartes Thinks
I blink
I think
I am
No more

Voltaire Replies
Now dead
I think
I stink
But who’s
To know
For sure 

 “A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.” ― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

25 Years of Hubble Space Telescope

This year marks 25 years of the Hubble Space Telescope. 

Here is an update on the “Pillars of Creation”. The image shows an interstellar cloud of dust, hydrogen, helium and other ionized gases, which cosmologists call a nebula. This one, called the Eagle Nebula is within the Andromeda Galaxy seven thousand light years away. The massive clumps of matter will attract and eventually become massive enough to form a star, planets, and other objects like our own solar system.

How big is big - almost 10 light years in length. How big is our solar system in light years - a mere 3.7 light years in diameter. And from the sun to the earth, eight minutes.

Eagle Nebula, original image NASA

Time enough for a little poetry by William Wordsworth. Ode 536 from Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.

 There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,    
 The earth, and every common sight,    
 To me did seem    
 Apparell'd in celestial light,    
The glory and the freshness of a dream.           
It is not now as it hath been of yore;—    
        Turn wheresoe'er I may,    
            By night or day,    
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

...

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:   
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,     
        Hath had elsewhere its setting,   
          And cometh from afar:   
        Not in entire forgetfulness,   
        And not in utter nakedness,   
But trailing clouds of glory do we come     
        From God, who is our home:   
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!   
Shades of the prison-house begin to close   
        Upon the growing Boy,   
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,     
        He sees it in his joy;