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(Image Source) Last month, my mom was admitted to the hospital for a list of reasons: kidney stones, a urinary tract infection, dehydration, anemia, and the flu. When my brother Joe call...
Slouching towards WWIII
One of the few reasons I remain on Facebook is the equally random and awesome conversations I wind up having, like one I had on Tuesday about North Korea's latest nuclear bomb test.
I started it by simply writing, "Really, North Korea?" By the way, I stand by that question. Really, Kim Jong, Jr.? Really?
A couple of folks thought it wise for us to get all nuclear on their butts. Those butts being Iranian, actually. One friend wrote defiantly:
... Only way to teach n. korea is by bombing iran. they dont have the nuke yet ... surprisingly, all the reports were indicating they would have it before n. korea...dont know who failed - iranians or our intelligence, but bottom line is ...
Repulsed, I warned my warmongering buddy that all actions have consequences, and that "you reap what you sow." Undaunted, he cheekily replied, with a smiley face to boot:
You reap what you can now...worry about the sowing later.
The discussion continued, with others joining in, and some of my horror abated when my friend revealed he was playing devil's advocate. Many comments later, Joe, quite amused, provided a link which capped the craziness nicely.
The Second Coming
By: William Butler Yeats
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?