Path: mit-eddie!rutgers!cs.utexas.edu!swrinde!ucsd!ucsdhub!hp-sdd!hplabs!hplred!egly From: egly@hplred.HP.COM (Diana Egly) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Logic? Message-ID: <20940018@hplred.HP.COM> Date: 19 Dec 89 22:04:18 GMT References: <12303@phoenix.Princeton.EDU> Organization: Hewlett Packard Labs, Palo Alto CA Lines: 26 / hplred:alt.callahans / ejalbert@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Edmund Jason Albert) / 9:38 pm Dec 18, 1989 / In article <12303@phoenix.Princeton.EDU> jwbirdsa@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (James Webster Birdsall) writes: > the sorrow will end Be careful using this statement. Not all sorrows end. Except finally in death. I have found it better to say that people learn to live with their sorrow. (I think of an elderly friend who talks about sorrow as her constant companion -- and in so doing gives others the courage to live with their sorrows.) Telling people that their sorrow will end is seldom helpful. Especially not for deep losses. Because it sounds as if you aren't taking the feelings seriously. It sounds as if you are trivializing the experience. (I think of a wise psychiatrist who once told me that people in my situation sometimes did kill themselves, and that I might too -- and in so doing, eased much of my pain.) Time does not always heal the pain. It does allow a person to learn how, to practice how, to live in drastically altered circumstances. So time is an ally. To relearn how to live is the best that I've ever heard anyone offer. Can you really guarantee more than this? Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ucbvax!ucdavis!pollux!ez000691 From: ez000691@pollux Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: A Food Fight Summary: Ha ha!! A challenge! Keywords: TOXIC PUN FALLOUT Message-ID: <6331@ucdavis.ucdavis.edu> Date: 22 Dec 89 05:54:30 GMT References: <8912190906.AA00640@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM> Sender: uucp@ucdavis.ucdavis.edu Reply-To: ez000691@pollux.ucdavis.edu (Shadow) Followup-To: alt.callahans Organization: University of California, Davis Lines: 60 In article <8912190906.AA00640@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM> jane@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM (Jane Beckman x2637) writes: >> Shadow grins. "All right. So the topic is eating, hmm? Certainly one >>we can milk for all it's worth..." He ducks a hail of peanuts from a corner >>table (was that you, Jilara?) and protests, "Just warming up! > >Of course it was. Just wait until you see me in a food fight, sometime. >This is going to be just peachy, I can tell. But someone always has to >play the big cheese. But I'm into rye humor. (Hey, Callahan, that >reminds me, gimme a rye before someone scotches the deal!) Shadow can recognize a challenge when he hears one, and rises to the occasion with relish, without loafing around. "Oy! I must have been nutty as a fruitcake to even get started...but, then, I always was a sucker for a good edible pun (You can really sink your teeth into them!). Nothing olive batter than an all-out punfest, you under- sand,wich is something a friend of mine was always fond of. Her name was Trixie. She had radish hair, butter eyes were greens. As I recall, she made a good celery entering data on an Apple. Her boss, Waldorf, finally fired her when the office updated to IBM, and she never ceased complaining about how Waldorf Salad out. But she always was a bit flaky... "If I keep this up, I'm gonna get creamed, so lettuce call a temporary halt (orange you glad we left some for the others?). Besides, I don't know how many more I can mustard. So I'll just pumpernickle into the jukebox, here... "As for the drinking puns, alcohol them off if you will." His eyes are dancing wildly with glee, and one can hear the unspoken thought: (This proves to be even more promising than fish puns!!) >A note to Shadow, whom I would really like to email to, if only I could >find him out there. I'm about out of paths, and >our mail could support the economy of a small rubber-producing republic. "To whom," Shadow corrects. "Us English majors ain't supposed to let you get all sloppy. You gots to talk real good, like me. "I finally figured out why no one can get email through to me! (And boy, do I feel dumb.) For some peculiar reason, the Reply-to: line has been listing my address as just ez000691@pollux. That's wrong. It's ez000691@pollux.ucdavis. edu, as in my .signature. I'll try to remember to manually edit that from now on, until I can figure out why the heck it's happening. "I guess this epistle ought to tide Guam over for a while..." he adds. >I want you to stop quoting me, among other things. You seem to voice >some very similar sentiments to my own, a lot. Almost in the same >wording, even. >--- > ---Jilara the Exile (I hope.) > (alternate identity may be jane@fsdcupt.csd.mot.com---don't you love > computers with identity crises?) Shadow bows. "I'll take that as a compliment, thank you. Have a drink on me, m'dear?" "By the way, I expect this will be my final speech for a couple of weeks, so I bid you all a very hearty good night, wish you a pleasant holiday season, and the very best for the new year." He flings his glass into the fireplace and vanishes with a puff of black smoke and an asthmatic cough. Shadow -- From the only slightly twisted mind of... "In case we decide to ez000691@pollux.ucdavis.edu surrender to them, Number One." Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!rpi!image.soe.clarkson.edu!news From: stadnism@clutx.clarkson.edu (Steven Stadnicki,,,) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: A final goodbye Message-ID: <1989Dec22.075704.16352@sun.soe.clarkson.edu> Date: 22 Dec 89 07:57:04 GMT Sender: news@sun.soe.clarkson.edu Reply-To: don't bother... Organization: Clarkson University, Potsdam, NY Lines: 52 Anyone who was watching the young man at the side of the room (probably no-one was; he's not the sort who's usually noticed) will have noticed a rather odd behavior; every few minutes, he stands up about halfway, pauses for a minute, then sits back down. Finally he seems to muster some courage within himself, and gets up, walks to the bar, collects a glass of hot chocolate, and turns to face the room, fighting back the tears. "Well, I posted one a few days ago, but this is probably going to be my last chance, so I wanted to put together a final good-bye. But now I find I have nothing to say... so I'll just say thank you to everyone. I couldn't even begin to list all the friends I've made here... all the good times I've had... all the rough times you've seen me through (sometimes without knowing it)... I think I'll leave with a song, one of the ones I posted a few days ago. This is what Callahan's is all about, as far as I'm concerned: In troubled times When you're lost in confusion No peace of mind You're feeling so disillusioned Your dreams are fading Like your smile that I treasure When the warmth of your own goodness Cannot keep you from the cold (chorus) Think of me I'm the one you can turn to With open arms Like a door that's never locked I can't say I hold the key to all the answers But through all my own confusion In my deepest darkest blue I know I'd find the love and time To be a friend to you (repeat chorus and fade) So, my final toast: to friends. May they always be there..." With that, he pitches the glass into the fireplace and leaves into the bitter cold, possibly never to be seen again. Steven Stadnicki 4 Beechwood Drive Morrisonville, NY 12962 (518)643-2664 Path: mit-eddie!bloom-beacon!eru!luth!sunic!tut!ousrvr!news From: so-luru@stekt.oulu.fi (Ari Husa OH8NUP) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Part of the Redhead's story Message-ID: Date: 22 Dec 89 05:35:38 GMT Sender: news@ousrvr.oulu.fi Distribution: alt Organization: United Lusers Against SO Prefix Lines: 175 The young, red-headed man has been listening to the others for a while at a chear close to the fireplace. No longer is he lurking in the shadows of the ever-so-many corner tables of Callahan's but has rather learnt to know some of these people. Strangely enough, he views them as friends and strangers at the same time - some more of the first category, some more of the latter. Nevertheless, he - surprised of his boldness by himself - rises up with his usual glass of Cloudberry liquor. He can feel the heat from the fireplace as he steps closer, for he wants to be in a place where everyone can see and hear him clearly. That surprises himself even more, he has always thought himself as a very shy person. The clears his throat, and begins with his quiet and a little bit mumbled voice. "The time of joy and good will is approaching.. but many people don't seem not to have it too well. Knowing what is happening in Panama or Rumania, not to mention many other places, makes me think that my personal problems are the least of interest to many at this point of time. The strange mixture of joy and sorrow have brought me to the point where I feel like revealing the one secret in my life shared by a very limited number of people. Listen if you want to, I don't want to push myself... " He glances at the people, feeling a little bit disappointed of his own introduction.. and doesn't really know what to say next. His voice grows stronger and he gets pretty much everybody's attention by continuing.. "I dislike lying. Actually, I hate lying. I hate people who lie. I do it myself occasionally, but I do feel very bad about it and try to avoid it as much as I can. A few years ago I found that I have been living in a lie. And I do not know what to think about it." "It was the spring that Outi broke our engagement - I reckon it would be two and a half years now.. She was being honest with me, which I truly respect. And I still love her for that, although I wouldn't want to start another relationship with her any more. Besides, she is living with someone else, and I really hope she would be happy." "The day she told me she is going to leave her, my mother told me something important, however. She was very sad for me, and I was living in a constant state of shock. I could tell you so much about it.. it is amazing how much one's physical well-being is affected by a mental collapse of feelings. But I guess the world is full of such stories. It is enough to say that for me the world ended that day. That is what I wrote down to my calendar. Somehow it got rebuilt, however.. it always does." He takes a sip of his glass, feeling a cold wave through his entire being, although the fireplace is spreading its warmth to the restaurant. He can feel his knees shaking a little and for a while considers sitting down.. however, he decides to stay up and continues. "I have never been getting along too well with my father. He appeared to my life when I was four years old - before that I cannot remember him at all. All I remember was my mother. My father was studying in Germany to become a doctor, and my parents got married when I was four. I can actually remember the wedding." "When I grew older, things between my father and I didn't get any better. By the time I reached my age of puberty, I think I already hated him. Feelings are strong at that age, and I thought it would not be that serious." "However, I did not think it was all my fault. I couldn't understand why I was treated differently. Not in a way that could be easily noticed.. but the difference was there. Financially, I got all the support that the other five siblings (whom I do love very much), but on the emotional side, there was something... something I couldn't explain." "When I was eighteen, things got really bad. I had my first physical fight with him. He had been spanking me before, but this time he started a fight of no particular reason. He had used to give me an occasional kick now and then - but I could take that. I was going to be an exchange student next summer.. wo I could take the spring, I thought. He hit me in a face. With a fist. I could not hit back. I wanted to, but I could not hit my father. I left the house and never came back until my mom got home. He never had the courage to do anything when she was around." "Then there was the wonderful year in the States.. and I got back for my last year in high school. Things seemed to be better. In the fall, I met Outi, and spent most of my time at her place anyway. No, I couldn't borrow my dad's car, but that was ok.. I could take that." "I did well in the matriculation exam next spring. Many people were surprised of that - and I think much of the credit is due to Outi. At that state of constant happiness I couldn't have failed in anything." The young man smiles a little, giving himself a private laugh in his mind. "The next year, I could put off all my problems.. I had to do my military service. Outi and I were planning to move together for real.. I had chosen my university in Oulu partly for that purpose. So had she, I suppose. The spring came.. time to furnish the apartment.. I got out of the military.. and we started to move in. She had her entrance test for the university coming up and she lived at our home in Oulu, while I was starting my summer job in Rovaniemi." "Then it happened. Bang. A phone call. Had to get to the railway station to meet her that afternoon. She came. The hug was reluctant, so was the kiss. She told me she wanted to leave me - I don't really want to get into the details, you pretty much get the idea. All I want to say is that she was really brave. I would not have got the courage, I am sure. We had a long talk, lots of tears. That night I was going to a party where I had been planning to take her, too, since she was in town. She went back to Oulu." "To the party I went, crying for the whole evening. Got myself drunk, too. When I got home, my mother was waiting for me. I had briefly told her what happened before I left for the party. We had a long talk.. and then.. she told me what had happened to her.." He takes another sip of his glass, and was quiet for a moment. "My father was not my real father. My real father never showed up in the wedding.. that was before I was even born. My mother was waiting in her wedding dress already. He never showed up. After a few years, she met her present husband, the man I had always known as my "father", but whom I had never loved. Outi, if you are reading this, now you understand why I am so glad you had the courage to face me." The young man's face is showing no feelings at all. None. He is like a stone. "When I asked her why she had not told me that before, she claimed she thought she had. I am sure this is not the case. I think she should have told me, although I can very well understand why she did not." "I went through a series of melodramatic plans of looking up my real father.. but I quickly disgarded them all. I know his name, and where he lives. I just don't think I want to have anything to do with such a jerk. I rather have no father at all." "It is also amazing how one can sense these things. I had suspected he wasn't my father since I was fifteen.." He pauses.. and then continues. "Now why am I telling you all this? I am not making a question, not asking for advise. I guess it is just that now I am ready to face the situation myself. There should be no secrets in my life. By letting these skeletons out of the closets, they don't have the opportunity to bother you that much. What could make things less secret than spreading them around the world to the Net? For this, the Callahan's is a perfect place." "You probably guess what I want to make my toast for." The young man steps to the line.. and throws the glass into the fireplace really hard, with an almost violent sling. "To honesty, my friends." * CRASH * The young readhead walks back to the chair.. takes his coat and starts to walk to the door.. he turns back at the door and says in his quiet manner: "Oh, I will be leaving to my parents for christmas.. I just wanted to wish you all peaceful christmas. For that is what the world needs right now." He walks out of the door and closes it carefully behind him. Luru -- /// Ari Husa OH8NUP so-luru@stekt.oulu.fi o-o --... ...-- o Ham Radio Operators Do It In Higher Frequency Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!usc!ucsd!ucsdhub!hp-sdd!hplabs!hplred!egly From: egly@hplred.HP.COM (Diana Egly) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Logic? Message-ID: <20940019@hplred.HP.COM> Date: 20 Dec 89 19:08:39 GMT References: <12303@phoenix.Princeton.EDU> Organization: Hewlett Packard Labs, Palo Alto CA Lines: 22 Thank you Shadow, for explaining the logic. I can see now why the logic doesn't work for me. Perhaps because I am older, most of the suicidal people that I have met can envision a better future for themselves -- they realize at a gut level that the future is likely to be much better than the present -- they've seen it happen before. The reason that they are suicidal is that they do not wish to endure what they would have to in order to get to that better future -- or else they feel that the present hurts too much and they've reached their limit. I don't see that the logic you've presented works well in such instances. What I have found to work is to find a way to releive some of the pressure or some of the pain for just long enough for the person to catch their breath. Someday I'll have to tell the story of a friend of mine who killed herself during the happiest part of her life. She chose to kill herself because she knew that joy could not last forever -- and she did not want to go through another valley. Not ever. Diana egly@hplabs Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!ucsd!ucsdhub!hp-sdd!apollo!betsyp From: betsyp@apollo.HP.COM (Betsy Perry) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Yet another newbie... Message-ID: <4790a3de.20b6d@apollo.HP.COM> Date: 21 Dec 89 21:31:00 GMT Sender: root@apollo.HP.COM Distribution: alt Organization: Hewlett-Packard Apollo Division - Chelmsford, MA Lines: 27 Another stranger walks through the door. This one is a woman, tallish, slimmish (but dressed in loose clothes, so who can tell?), thirtyish. Her curly brown hair hangs in a braid over one shoulder; greying wisps straggle around her forehead and ears.* "Mr. Callahan.. a scot... sigh. Make that a Chambord and tonic; heavy on the tonic, light on the sweet stuff. Thanks." She drops a Susan B. Anthony coin into the overflowing shoebox. Then she reconsiders. "And can I have a glass to throw? This drink is for sipping, not for gulping; I'll give you back its glass when it's finished." She walks toward the chalk line. "I'm not as brilliant or as beautiful as I used to think I was; I know now I'll never be Sally Ride, or Marie Curie, or Anna Pavlova. Most of all, I'm not as young as I used to be. Oh, I'm not old, not even in dog years -- but I'm long past the age of precocity. So my toast comes with thanks to Alan Jay Lerner: 'I'm glad I'm not young anymore!'" And the empty glass joins its brothers in the glass-heap behind the fire. *Okay, okay, there are only about twenty grey hairs, but, dammit, every one of them shines like a beacon in the dark! Betsy Perry betsyp@apollo.com Apollo Division, Hewlett-Packard, Inc. (her opinion doesn't matter, matter, matter, matter...) Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!usc!sdsu!ucsd!ucsdhub!hp-sdd!hplabs!hpfcso!daq From: daq@hpfcso.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: A Cynical Christmas Toast? Message-ID: <9060007@hpfcso.HP.COM> Date: 21 Dec 89 05:50:50 GMT Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA Lines: 56 The cynic is passing callahans. The frigid weather chills everything outisde. All sound dies in the blackness, but it is replaced by a luminous mist, blue white and oddly serene. The yellow windows beckon, promising warmth, comfort, and freindship. He starts in the direction of the door, but hesitates. Turning around, he sees the lake near the bar. It stretches out in the darkness. The slate black surface is absolutely still. "Probably ice," he thinks to himself, but it is difficult to tell from here. He thinks of the fish, frozen in their liquid prison and wonders if they are cold. He decides that he is. He enters the bar and waits by the door as his glasses unsteam. He looks briefly for Diana, the only person he has spoken to at the bar, but she is not there, so he crosses to the bulletin board and places another note, removing all of the old ones. The new note reads: A Cynical Christmas toast: To souls, and mates for reprobates, chained to life, bereft of hope for a better day. A better way to say things, a brighter way to see things. To magic rings and long lost kings who return from lands of fantasy to set things right and settle fights. To feed the babes and free the slaves. To end the killing and the spilling of blood. To freinds who really need you. To loves who won't deceive you and peers who will receive you with open arms and open minds. To the good old days and the best of times. To standing tall despite it all. To finding peace and sweet release. And as the last, but not the least, a toast to hoping, despite the fears and all of the tears, that all of these things are not the stuff of magic rings. Doug Quarnstrom (Part time cynic) Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!samsung!uunet!attcan!utgpu!watserv1!watdragon!rose!jmsankey From: jmsankey@rose.waterloo.edu (Sharkey) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: death (not a nice subject i know) Message-ID: <19441@watdragon.waterloo.edu> Date: 21 Dec 89 19:33:12 GMT Sender: daemon@watdragon.waterloo.edu Reply-To: jmsankey@rose.waterloo.edu (Sharkey) Distribution: alt Organization: U. of Waterloo, Ontario Lines: 51 A gust of wind blows through Callahan's as Sharkey enters. He looks around the room and gives everyone a smile, but there is a look of sadness in his eyes (this seems to be common for him lately). He walks to the bar and announces, "Glayva, please Mike. I am feeling my heritage right now." He exchanges the dollar bill for the liquor and steps to the line. "I have a couple of things to say before I make my toast. First of all, welcome to all you with unfamiliar faces. And to everyone, my sincere wish that you all have a joyous and safe holiday season. "Phil, I hear you've been calling yourself an empath with no one to help. As a regular, I thought you knew that there is always somebody to help (unfortunately). Perhaps if we were all as empathetic as yourself then you wouldn't be needed (as an empath, that is; your :-) is always welcome). "Jilara, I have a warm fuzzy here for Jane if you wouldn't mind passing it on. I have so few left that I wanted to make sure she got one, in case I did run out. "Oh, BTW, I'm moving in the new year. Just down the street, but I'll let you know what my new address is when I return from the holidays. "Now, to the subject at hand. For some reason, death seems to be surrounding me, but not touching me (have I offended the gods?). In the last few weeks there was the massacre in Montreal, a close friend of my roommate died while studying for exams, my girlfriend's mother passed away (last Saturday), and my best friend's uncle died (Sunday). "While I didn't know any of these people personally, their deaths have still affected me. I find more and more that my thoughts have turned to death and my family. It has made me realize that I love my family much more than I thought and that any loss (esp. now) would probably destroy me. With the holidays at hand, I will see them and use the opportunity to say those things that you always wanted to say after it's too late. "My toast ... To Families ... or to their Memories They may not always be there, but they are always with us." <*CRASH*> <*CRASH*> <*CRASH*> <*CRASH*> <*CRASH*> <*CRASH*> +===================================================+===================+ | WARNING: Construction Ahead! | Sharkey | | signature under repair. | | +===================================================+===================+ Path: mit-eddie!rutgers!ucsd!ucsdhub!hp-sdd!hplabs!hplred!egly From: egly@hplred.HP.COM (Diana Egly) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: More to the cynic Message-ID: <20940020@hplred.HP.COM> Date: 21 Dec 89 14:27:01 GMT References: Organization: Hewlett Packard Labs, Palo Alto CA Lines: 134 / hplred:alt.callahans / daq@hpfcso.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) / 5:55 pm Dec 18, 1989 / > [... now I realize that > one cannot really ever fully understand oneself, so it is totally unreasonable to expect that from others. Ironic, isn't it, that we long for something that we can't even do for ourselves... >>Well, then, you give us practice in self-control. > > Geez, maybe I should charge for this. Not sure anyone would voluntarily sign up for the lessons. > [about a long passage in The Brothers Karamazov] > I feel that way sometimes too. I really like privacy, and > am very put out when it is violated. This I understand. I live alone for somewhat the same reason. (Living alone is a great luxury in the Bay Area.) I don't know that a need for privacy -- a room of one's own -- is the same as a dislike of people. It's not for me, but perhaps it is for you. It would be hArd for me to know. > In fact, I think that the difference > between people is not really difference of emotion but the > differences in how they choose to deal with it. Yes. > I think that > my brain has gotten to the point where it is just incapable > of being totally positive about anything. What should I say? Welcome to the world? Offhand I can't think of anything to be totally positive about... Or totally negative either... > I don't like the suffering of others, but I have come to the > conclusion that I take some odd pleasure from my own. I did say that I can't think of anything that is completely negative. And turning your frustration, anger, upset into art is common among artists. It is healthy self-expression. As long as you don't inplict pain on yourself so that you can be creative. > I also feel that there are a good number of people out there > who enjoy their own suffering. They feel the need to be > loyal to their pain. I see two ways of looking at this. Either you're saying that there are some people who refuse to seek and acknowledge the pleasure in their lives out of some misguided sense of loyalty to their pain. And this is not a good place to be. But for those who hold both their own pain and pleasure -- whose loyalty is to all of their life experiences -- think this is good. Even though we live in a society that wants us to repress our pains and only remember our pleasures. To do so can mean cutting big hunks out of our souls, because the tapestry of our life has many threads. In many hues. Loyalty to our pain, yes. Just as we are loyal to our happiness. That's what I meant by my toast about preserving our memories. To refuse to cut out the painful parts of our lives because in so doing we have to obliterate so much of the joy we've experienced. Who wants a life in shades of grey? > I live very intensely in my mind > and see many good things about life. I am not sure they > outweigh the bad though. Do they need to? Who ever told you that the good things would outweigh the bad? And why did you beleive them?o > Some time I will post an essay > here in callahans about the relationship between beauty and > pain (or perhaps more appropriately, melancholy). I hope you will post this soon. I will look forward to it. >>I think of the close of V.Frankl's book _Man's Search for Meaning_. >>After talking of his experiences in the Nazi concentration camps, >>and his observations of his fellow prisoners, he concluded by saying >>that Auschwitz teaches us what mankind can be and Hiroshima shows us >>why it matters. > > To me, Auschwitz is worse. Hiroshima could be an act of passion > or madness on the part of onw man. Auschwitz was slow, methodical, > organized butchery of human beings by an entire nation. And it > is a good more common in the twentieth century than alot of > people realize. Perhaps I should explain -- Frankl wasn't so much talking about the horrors of Auschwitz as he was the victims responses to it. That the prisoners reacted differently to the horror -- some identifying with the oppressor and some by developing an ability to care about those around them and some by finding personal meaning and purpose in the midst of the craziness... That's what he means by Auschwitz showing us what man could be... The man he considers is the prisoner... the victim... the one who suffers... He's not comparing the insanity of Auschwitz with the insanity of nuclear holocaust. What he's saying is that in light of the possible destruction of all that we hold dear that we have the same choices available as those prisoners he tells us of did. But with nuclear holocaust, the choices that we make may well effect the outcome. And so they matter much much more than it did for the individuals in Auschwitz. > Yes, when I was young, I am sure that most of my desire for > understanding was the former. Now I think it is more the latter, > although I still tend to be attacted to people who are a > bit dark in their relationship with life. Do you have any understanding of why this is so -- why you are attracted to people who are a bit dark in their relationship with life? I catch overtones that you think this attraction may be a bad thing.... How is this attraction disfuntional for you? Or is it disfunctional for you? >>> But I must warn you, some of my attitudes really are quite >>> outside the norm." > >>So are some of mine... > > Oh yeah? Well I bet my dad can beat up your dad. So there. Oh, dear.... I did not intend for this to be a challenge to your sense of abnormality... I'm sorry that it was... But if your father wants to beat up my father he should find it simple enough to do so. My father is a pacifist so he won't fight back. Diana egly@hplabs Path: mit-eddie!rutgers!ucsd!ucsdhub!hp-sdd!hplabs!hplred!egly From: egly@hplred.HP.COM (Diana Egly) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Panama Message-ID: <20940021@hplred.HP.COM> Date: 21 Dec 89 21:55:59 GMT References: <146@boston-harbor.lucid.com> Organization: Hewlett Packard Labs, Palo Alto CA Lines: 27 For me, the invasion of Panama nearly destroys the little bit of Christmas spirit I've managed to muster this year... You see, I beleive that Christmas is a magical time of year a time. A time when soldiers who have been shooting at each other put down their rifles and sing carols together. It really does happen you know. It's a time of hope -- of hope that if soldiers can do that for one day a year, maybe they can do it for the other 364 days. At Christmas time it seems like the truly miraculous can happen. To celebrate it with war and death stikes me as sacriligious. For me it feels as if something holy has been defiled by this invasion. Anyone want to join with me in singing one of my favorite carols? Verses one and four: I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old familiar carols play, And wild and sweet the words repeat Of "Peace on earth, good will to men!" And in despair I bowed my head; "There is no peace on earth," I said "For hate is strong and mocks the song Of peace on earth, good will to men." With apologies to those whose religious preferences or sensitivities to sexist language may find the singing of this carol offense, I'll find a nice corner to sit in.