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Badly frightened!!!


Greyflank

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I'm not sure what you mean? I thought I saw something like what you describe this am, but by the time I drank my coffee it was gone. Figured it was some sorta mirage.

PS: I'm looking for a bulk discount on oak planks for this ark I've been building......

 

Tae-Kwon-Leap is not a path to a door, but a road leading forever towards the horizon.

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I think our ancestors used to call that shiny orb the Sun! I always assumed it was a story that parents told their children to keep them in line. Sort of like

 

“If you eat your vegetables the sun will come out and warm you”.

 

I guess the sacred scrolls were right.

 

 

Sorry I was watching a Planet of the Apes marathon yesterday.

icon_biggrin.gif

 

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As always, the above statements are just MHO.

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What really frightened me several months ago was that each day kept getting shorter and shorter and at the rate things were going, it would be night all the time.

 

I was quite relieved when the trend suddenly reversed back in December.

 

"Au pays des aveugles, les borgnes sont rois"

 

[This message was edited by BrianSnat on May 27, 2003 at 09:35 AM.]

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quote:
Originally posted by Greyflank:

Geez... what is that... that... bright ball of fire in the sky? It's almost familiar, yet frightening at the same time.


 

Whew! I sure am glad we don't have to worry about that here in NEPA. icon_rolleyes.gif

 

~Zhanna~

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ALL SUMMER IN A DAY

By Ray Bradbury

 

"Ready?"

"Ready?"

"Now?"

"Soon."

"Do the scientists really know? Will it happen today, will it?"

"Look, look; see for yourself!"

The children pressed to each other like so many roses, so many weeds,

intermixed, peering out for a look at the hidden sun.

It rained.

"It's stopping, it's stopping!"

"Yes, yes!"

All day yesterday they had read in class about the sun.

About how like a lemon it was, and how hot. And they had written small stories

or essays or poems about it:

I think the sun is a flower,

That blooms for just one hour.

That was Margot's poem, read in a quiet voice in the still classroom while the

rain was falling outside.

"Aw, you didn't write that!" protested one of the boys.

"I did," said Margot. "I did."

"William!" said the teacher.

But that was yesterday. Now the rain was slackening, and the children were

crushed in the great thick windows.

"Where's teacher?"

"She'll be back."

"She'd better hurry, we'll miss it!"

They turned on themselves; like a feverish wheel, all tumbling spokes.

Margot stood alone. She was a very frail girl who looked as if she had been lost

in the rain for years and the rain had washed out the blue from her eyes and the red from

her mouth and the yellow from her hair. She was an old photograph dusted from an

album, whitened away, and if she spoke at all her voice would be a ghost. Now she

stood, separate, staring at the rain and the loud wet world beyond the huge glass.

"What're you looking at?" said William.

Margot said nothing.

"Speak when you're spoken to." He gave her a shove. But she did not move;

rather she let herself be moved only by him and nothing else.

They edged away from her, they would not look at her. She felt them go away.

The biggest crime of all was that she had come here only five years ago from

Earth, and she remembered the sun. And they, they had been on Venus all their lives,

and they had been only two years old when last the sun came out and had long since

forgotten the color and heat of it and the way it really was. But Margot remembered.

"It's like a penny," she said once, eyes closed.

"No it's not!" the children cried.

"It's like a fire, " she said, "in the stove."

"You're lying, you don't remember!" cried the children.

There was talk that her father and mother were taking her back to Earth next year;

it seemed vital to her that they do so, though it would mean the loss of thousands of

dollars to her family. And so, the children hated her for all these reasons of big and little

consequence. They hated her pale snow face, her waiting silence, her thinness, and her

possible future.

"Get away!" The boy gave her another push. "What're you waiting for?"

Then, for the first time, she turned and looked at him. And what she was waiting

for was in her eyes.

"Well, don't wait around here!" cried the boy savagely. "You won't see

nothing!"

"Oh, but," Margot whispered, her eyes helpless. "But this is the day, the

scientists predict, they say, they know, the sun . . ."

"All a joke!" said the boy, and seized her roughly. "Hey, everyone, let's put her

in a closet before the teacher comes!"

"No," said Margot, falling back.

They surged about her, caught her up and bore her, protesting, and then pleading,

and then crying, back into a tunnel, a room, a closet, where they slammed and locked the

door. They stood looking at the door and saw it tremble from her beating and throwing

herself against it. They heard her muffled cries. Then, smiling, they turned and went out

and back down the tunnel, just as the teacher arrived.

"Ready, children!" She glanced at her watch.

"Yes!" said everyone.

"Are we all here?"

"Yes!"

The rain slackened still more.

They crowded to the huge door.

The rain stopped.

The sun came out.

The children lay out, laughing, on the jungle mattress, and heard it sigh and

squeak under them, resilient and alive. They ran among the trees, they slipped and fell,

they pushed each other, they played hide-and-seek and tag, but most of all they squinted

at the sun until tears ran down their faces, they put their hands up to that yellowness and

that amazing blueness and they breathed of the fresh, fresh air and listened and listened to

the silence which suspended them in a blessed sea of no sound and no motion. They

looked at everything and savored everything. Then, wildly, like animals escaped from

their caves, they ran and ran in shouting circles. They ran for an hour and did not stop

running.

And then - - -

In the midst of their running one of the girls wailed.

Everyone stopped.

The girl, standing in the open, held out her hand.

"Oh, look, look," she said, trembling.

They came slowly to look at her opened palm

In the center of it, cupped and huge, was a single raindrop.

She began to cry, looking at it.

They glanced quietly at the sky.

"Oh. Oh."

A few cold drops fell on their noses and their cheeks and their mouths. The sun

faded behind a stir of mist. A wind blew cold around them. They turned and started to

walk back toward the underground house, their hands at their sides, their smiles

vanishing away.

"Will it be seven more years?"

"Yes. Seven."

Then one of them gave a little cry.

"Margot!"

"What?"

"She's still in the closet where we locked her."

They walked over to the closet door slowly and stood by it.

Behind the closet door was only silence.

They unlocked the door, even more slowly, and let Margot out.

 

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quote:
The rain is killing all my basil! The plants need sun!

 

Don't feel bad, my fig tree which has been growing in my yard for at least the last 25 years has not come to life this year so far.

 

Figures...I intended to clone it this year and give my fig loving friends a tree of their very own icon_frown.gif

 

Kar

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For the record, just recently there was this incident where some wierd lady who claims to channel aliens (I am not kidding) was predicting that on May 15, the earth would be sideswiped by this entity called Planet X, and this X thing would cause rotation stoppage, disaster and pole shift.

 

People were honestly freaking out over it. Whats even more amazing, is now that the world stayed normal, her followers are still believing her.

 

Read BadAstronomy.com's Planet X Forum for information on this continuing saga, but be sure to strap your jaw firmly to teh rest of your skull first.

 

-Elana (a.k.a. "Sparrowhawk")

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Oddly enough, I read in the Star Ledger yesterday that the total rainfall for May has been slightly below average this year.

 

I guess that we usually have fewer rainy days, but when it does rain, it rains harder. Not sure what else could explain this.

 

"Au pays des aveugles, les borgnes sont rois"

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quote:
Originally posted by BrianSnat:

Oddly enough, I read in the Star Ledger yesterday that the total rainfall for May has been slightly below average this year.

 

I guess that we usually have fewer rainy days, but when it does rain, it rains harder. Not sure what else could explain this.

 


 

I can certainly remember a dozen days this "spring" where I was like: "The rain looks like its about to stop." & of course it wouldn't. Or my lovely wife would complain that it hadn't rained enough to wash the yellow stuff from her car.

 

Has some volcano exploded somewhere w/o me noticing?

 

This Horse Writes

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quote:
Oddly enough, I read in the Star Ledger yesterday that the total rainfall for May has been slightly below average this year.

 

I can explain this. It’s a government conspiracy to under report rainfall statistics so that the state may force mandatory year round water restrictions. icon_eek.gif

 

Seriously though it does seem a little odd that we had below normal percipitation in May.

 

Here is a link with a bunch of water info --> njdrought.org

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My apologies to everyone

It has been my fault that so much rain has fallen. I performed my ancient Martian Rain Ceremony some weeks ago, to ensure that the heavens would be all dried up for this coming Sunday.

 

The little green men assure me, if I am reading the crop circles in my 2-foot-tall grass properly, that we will have a nice, sunny, precipitation-free day. Thus they have said, and thus it shall be.

 

-- I recognize fun when I see it.

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quote:
Originally posted by MissJenn:

The little green men assure me, if I am reading the crop circles in my 2-foot-tall grass properly, that we will have a nice, sunny, precipitation-free day. Thus they have said, and thus it shall be.


I guess if Lep said it, it MUST be true!

You might be to blame out in PA Jenn, but I know who's fault it is here in NJ.

One of my best friends bought a 30x16' swimming pool last month. It has pretty much rained every day since they signed the papers. We are now threatening to drain it for him. With a pickaxe. Maybe then the sun will return.

 

Tae-Kwon-Leap is not a path to a door, but a road leading forever towards the horizon.

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