While eating lunch yesterday I browsed through the latest issue
of my Kids Discover Magazine.
It is all about Rain & Snow - and just in time I would imagine.
One little thing caught my eye:
'A front is the boundary between two masses of
air that have different temperatures and levels of
humidity (moisture content.)
Fronts cause storms.
Cold air is heavier than warm air.
So when a cold front moves in, the cold air wedges
underneath the warm air, forcing it to rise.
This causes clouds to form and produces rain or
snow.
A warm front coming in rides up over the cold air.
Again clouds form and rains come.'
This article reminded me of the two Political Factions
in this Country which are Working Against Each Other.
but that's not what this post is about
~~~
This post is about a movie so dear to my Heart that I
cannot believe I gave it away.
The movie is about:
~having your heart ripped out when libby holden kills herself
because she is so disillusioned
~ the scene when they talk about their Mothers
~how john travolta's acting is so great that he makes me believe
that it is really bill clinton
~when he throws the keys out of the moving car
~how insufferably boring fly fishing must be
~that he was not the father of her baby but that he could have been
~adrian lester who was also great in the day after tomorrow
~but in the end he caved and stayed with the campaign
next time I buy this movie it will be on dvd and have subtitles so
that I can here every brilliant line
and why can't i think of the song they sang when they were talking
about their mothers
: (
17 comments:
:P
And if you want to know more about fronts, you should speak to the clouds directly, just like the politicians do....
Aristophanes, "Clouds"
STREPSIADES. Oh! adorable Clouds, I revere you and I too am going to let off my thunder, so greatly has your own affrighted me. Faith! whether permitted or not, I must, I must sh*t!
SOCRATES. No scoffing; do not copy those accursed comic poets. Come, silence! a numerous host of goddesses approaches with songs.
CHORUS. Virgins, who pour forth the rains, let us move toward Attica, the rich country of Pallas, the home of the brave; let us visit the dear land of Cecrops, where the secret rites are celebrated, where the mysterious sanctuary flies open to the initiate…. What victims are offered there to the deities of heaven! What glorious temples! What statues! What holy prayers to the rulers of Olympus! At every season nothing but sacred festivals, garlanded victims, are to be seen. Then Spring brings round again the joyous feasts of Dionysus, the harmonious contests of the choruses and the serious melodies of the flute.
STREPSIADES. By Zeus! Tell me, Socrates, I pray you, who are these women, whose language is so solemn; can they be demigoddesses?
SOCRATES. Not at all. They are the Clouds of heaven, great goddesses for the lazy; to them we owe all, thoughts, speeches, trickery, roguery, boasting, lies, sagacity.
STREPSIADES. Ah! that was why, as I listened to them, my mind spread out its wings; it burns to babble about trifles, to maintain worthless arguments, to voice its petty reasons, to contradict, to tease some opponent. But are they not going to show themselves? I should like to see them, were it possible.
SOCRATES. Well, look this way in the direction of Parnes; I already see those who are slowly descending.
STREPSIADES. But where, where? Show them to me.
SOCRATES. They are advancing in a throng, following an oblique path across the dales and thickets.
STREPSIADES. 'Tis strange! I can see nothing.
SOCRATES. There, close to the entrance.
STREPSIADES. Hardly, if at all, can I distinguish them.
SOCRATES. You must see them clearly now, unless your eyes are filled with gum as thick as pumpkins.
STREPSIADES. Aye, undoubtedly! Oh! the venerable goddesses! Why, they fill up the entire stage.
SOCRATES. And you did not know, you never suspected, that they were goddesses?
STREPSIADES. No, indeed; methought the Clouds were only fog, dew and vapour.
(cont)
SOCRATES. But what you certainly do not know is that they are the support of a crowd of quacks, both the diviners, who were sent to Thurium, the notorious physicians, the well-combed fops, who load their fingers with rings down to the nails, and the baggarts, who write dithyrambic verses, all these are idlers whom the Clouds provide a living for, because they sing them in their verses.
STREPSIADES. 'Tis then for this that they praise "the rapid flight of the moist clouds, which veil the brightness of day" and "the waving locks of the hundred-headed Typho" and "the impetuous tempests, which float through the heavens, like birds of prey with aerial wings, loaded with mists" and "the rains, the dew, which the clouds outpour." As a reward for these fine phrases they bolt well-grown, tasty mullet and delicate thrushes.
SOCRATES. Yes, thanks to these. And is it not right and meet?
STREPSIADES. Tell me then why, if these really are the Clouds, they so very much resemble mortals. This is not their usual form.
SOCRATES. What are they like then?
STREPSIADES. I don't know exactly; well, they are like great packs of wool, but not like women—no, not in the least…. And these have noses.
SOCRATES. Answer my questions.
STREPSIADES. Willingly! Go on, I am listening.
SOCRATES. Have you not sometimes seen clouds in the sky like a centaur, a leopard, a wolf or a bull?
STREPSIADES. Why, certainly I have, but what then?
SOCRATES. They take what metamorphosis they like. If they see a debauchee with long flowing locks and hairy as a beast, like the son of Xenophantes, they take the form of a Centaur in derision of his shameful passion.
STREPSIADES. And when they see Simon, that thiever of public money, what do they do then?
SOCRATES. To picture him to the life, they turn at once into wolves.
STREPSIADES. So that was why yesterday, when they saw Cleonymus, who cast away his buckler because he is the veriest poltroon amongst men, they changed into deer.
SOCRATES. And to-day they have seen Clisthenes; you see … they are women.
STREPSIADES. Hail, sovereign goddesses, and if ever you have let your celestial voice be heard by mortal ears, speak to me, oh! speak to me, ye all-powerful queens.
CHORUS. Hail! veteran of the ancient times, you who burn to instruct yourself in fine language. And you, great high-priest of subtle nonsense, tell us your desire. To you and Prodicus alone of all the hollow orationers of to-day have we lent an ear—to Prodicus, because of his knowledge and his great wisdom, and to you, because you walk with head erect, a confident look, barefooted, resigned to everything and proud of our protection.
STREPSIADES. Oh! Earth! What august utterances! how sacred! how wondrous!
SOCRATES. That is because these are the only goddesses; all the rest are pure myth.
Thersites - ho hum
cLowds... cRowds...
I guess you had to be there.
Speedy - I don't even get that even a little.
but why can reading the forward or the dedication of a book devestate me very time.
why don't I ever learn.
Did you at least get the 1st post?
*shakes head*
Speedy - what first post
'flips you off'
Speedy - please don't ***k with me.
I can't handle it at the moment.
'and these have noses'
Speedy - ever see that movie with S. Martin where he says poetry for the goodlooking dude but in fact daryl hannah falls in love with him - he needn't hide behind the bushes because it is his soul that she loves and craves
and his body
but more importantly his soul
but don't body and soul go hand in hand?
Your song when they were talking about their mothers. You DID click the link...
Thersites - I can't find the link you are talking about.
I googled about that song and still can't find it.
It is a very familiar song - I know - but I just can't think of it.
If you know it please come right out and tell me - please.
...Try clicking on the happy face in the first post.
-FJ - whose first post?
which happy face?
-FJ - Got it (that is a comment not a post)
Billy Bob Thorton at his best.
Tommy Hollis.
Emma Thompson.
JT.
Adrian Lester.
a scene for the ages...
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