SARAH PALIN: The chicken crossed the road because gosh-darn it, he's a maverick!
BARACK OBAMA: The chicken crossed the road because it was time for change! The chicken wanted change!
JOHN MC CAIN: My friends, that chicken crossed the road because he recognized the need to engage in cooperation and dialogue with all the chickens on the other side of the road.
HILLARY CLINTON: When I was First Lady, I personally helped that little chicken to cross the road. This experience makes me uniquely qualified to ensure right from Day One that every chicken in this country gets the chance it deserves to cross the road. But then, this really isn't about me.
GEORGE W. BUSH: We don't really care why the chicken crossed the road. We just want to know if the chicken is on our side of the road, or not. The chicken is either against us, or for us. There is no middle ground here.
DICK CHENEY: Where's my gun?
COLIN POWELL: Now to the left of the screen, you can clearly see the satellite image of the chicken crossing the road.
BILL CLINTON: I did not cross the road with that chicken.
AL GORE: I invented the chicken.
JOHN KERRY: Although I voted to let the chicken cross the road, I am now against it! It was the wrong road to cross, and I was misled about the chicken's intentions. I am not for it now, and will remain against it.
AL SHARPTON: Why are all the chickens white? We need some black chickens.
DR. PHIL: The problem we have here is that this chicken won't
realize that he must first deal with the problem on this side of the
road before it goes after the problem on the other side of the road. What we need to do is help him realize how stupid he's acting by not taking on his current problems before adding new problems.
OPRAH: Well, I understand that the chicken is having problems,
which is why he wants to cross this road so bad. So instead of having the chicken learn from his mistakes and take falls, which is a part of life, I'm going to give this chicken a NEW CAR so that he can just drive across the road and not live his life like the rest of the chickens.
0 Comments on Best Internet: Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road (LOL)? as of 1/1/1900
These were great kids and two wonderful teachers that I had the pleasure of performing poetry and teaching a poetry workshop to. See more at my website--lots more photos. Pretty Silly Photo, Eh? The serious one is below, as well as the address for the site. Kids and teachers were awesome!
'I Hope You Dance... '
This was written by an 83-year-old woman to herfriend. *The last line says it all. *
Dear Bertha,
I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting inthe yard and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I'm spending more time with my family and friends and lesstime working.
Whenever possible, life should be a pattern ofexperiences to savor, not to endure. I'm trying to recognize these moments nowand cherish them.
I'm not "saving" anything; we use ourgood china and crystal for every special event such as losing a pound, gettingthe sink unstopped, or the first Amaryllis blossom.
I wear my good blazer to the market. My theory isif I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of
By: Joe Sottile,
on 8/5/2010
Blog: Joe Silly Sottile's Blog
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Daily Blog, confession, Salinger, Holden, 2009 Rochester Children's Book Festival, writer, blog, literature, teaching, Catcher in the Rye, Tribute, J. D. Salinger, confessions, Add a tag
Yes, good for the soul, and good for the blog—perhaps!I have nothing to confess personally about J.D. Salinger. I know he’s not doinga lot of writing right now, but I have been waiting for some new stories by him—storiesthat he agreed could be published after his death. I wish the lawyers involved would get theiracts together. I am looking forward to those stories.
But I do want to take some time here to applaud Salingerfor what he did for me when I was 16-years-old. It changed my life.
I confess that I wasn’t always a book lover. Thebook that changed my life was Catcher inthe Rye. I couldn’t believe how authentic J. D. Salinger was as a writer.And I read Catcher at the perfect age, the same age as Holden. I wanted to be like Salingeras a writer, and never be a phony. He really turned me on to reading and writing.
Now that I enjoyed literature Ialso wanted to teach. I did happily teach for thirty-three years. And, now andthen, I actually dream at night about finding my class and teaching again. ThenI wake up sad in the morning with noclass and no official teaching responsibilities.
Nevertheless, I try to get into classes and dopoetry performances as much as I can. But it’s challenging to work around theI-got-to-teach-for-the-test teachers. They need to realize that teaching about“Egypt” isn’t as important as making poetry connections and establishingrapport with kids that are hungry for words that shed life on their ownexistence on Planet Earth.
At the end of my “Tribute” section on my Web site, Ihave a poem written by a former student, Jay Perrin, that is priceless. What asuperb gift from a student on the last day of school! You will find the poem byfollowing this site… http://www.consideration.org/sottile/for-teachers/tribute.html
In memory of a dear friend who's birthday would have been today. You died too young and you're missed every single day. You were a shining light and the world is a far darker and drearier place without you.
| A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning |
| | by John Donne |
| As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
"The breath goes now," and some say, "No,"
So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;
'Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.
Moving of the earth brings harms and fears,
Men reckon what it did and meant;
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.
Dull sublunary lovers' love
(Whose soul is sense) cannot admit
Absence, because it doth remove
Those things which elemented it.
But we, by a love so much refined
That our selves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.
Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion.
Like gold to airy thinness beat.
If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two:
Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if the other do;
And though it in the center sit,
Yet when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like the other foot, obliquely run;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.
The roundup is over where it began at Big A, little a. Thank you for hosting Kelly!
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