Showing posts with label news. Show all posts
Showing posts with label news. Show all posts
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Friday, May 1, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
We're Going To Be In The Hudson
Last week, the tapes of the conversation between Captain "Sully" Sullenberger and the air traffic controller that took place just before the plane in the Hudson river were released. Rachel Maddow played them during the "holy mackeral" portion of her show. I echo her sentiments. This man says "We're going to be in the Hudson" more calmly then I would say "I'll be at the mall this afternoon".
Holy Mackerel!!
Holy Mackerel!!
Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Canada In The News
Canada made the fake news last tonight.
Lead story on The Daily Show ...
Province in Peril Indecision Oh -eh?!
Sorry Canucks - this one will only visible within the U.S. Don't want spies from the Great White North knowing what we are saying about you!
Stewart was incredulous that a coalition of opposition politicians tried to oust Conservative Prime Minister Stephen Harper.
"Force him from office? You can do that? Because we've had no confidence in our guy for quite some time now, and he's taking forever to leave."
Lead story on The Daily Show ...
Province in Peril Indecision Oh -eh?!
Stewart was incredulous that a coalition of opposition politicians tried to oust Conservative Prime Minister Stephen Harper.
"Force him from office? You can do that? Because we've had no confidence in our guy for quite some time now, and he's taking forever to leave."
Monday, December 8, 2008
Fighter Plane Crash
From: Breaking News from SignOnSanDiego News
Date: December 8, 2008 12:32:13 PM PST
To: tippie
Subject: Military jet crashes in University City
A military jet has crashed into a neighborhood identified as near Cather Avenue and Huggins Street in University City. The pilot reportedly ejected. Buildings are on fire. No reports yet of fatalities or injuries.
A F-18 went down at today in University City (my area of town). It missed a major mall by half an mile and a high school by a couple of blocks. The plane crashed in a residential area and hit two homes that burned to the ground. Several other homes in the area suffered fire damage. Three people on the ground were killed and one is still missing.
For more info:
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Record Crowds
More than 200,000 people gather at a park in Berlin to listen to Obama.
Jae C. Hong/Associated Press L.A. Times coverage .
Friday, September 14, 2007
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Earthquake
Shortly after 6 am this morning the Pickster hopped on top of me in bed trembling and holding on for dear life. Normally she makes a more subtle entrance and tries not to wake me up. This was a full on frantic pounce that jerked me awake from a dead sleep. I petted her and calmed her down and fell back asleep. I didn't give it much more though until I heard we had an earthquake this morning. Now I realize the source of her anxiety. These seem to be coming with increasing frequency. I hope it isn't a warning of bigger things to come.
Burst of microquakes hit off La Jolla
SIGNONSANDIEGO NEWS SERVICES
10:50 a.m. September 9, 2007
LA JOLLA – A pair of very small earthquakes centered 8 miles off La Jolla rattled some coastal San Diego residents awake Sunday, but occurred about 30 miles away from the epicenter of a larger quake that struck late Saturday.
Sunday morning's first quake struck at 6:11 a.m. with a magnitude 3.7. A 2.7 temblor struck at 6:40 a.m. Both were centered seven miles beneath the ocean floor, according to automated seismographs operated by the U.S. Geologic Survey and a consortium of universities.
A series of more than a dozen very-small earthquakes centered off the La Jolla and Pacific Beach coasts have erupted in the past week, including an magnitude 3.2 quake that hit at 12:10 p.m. Friday, and a magnitude 4.0 that hit at 7:48 a.m. Tuesday.
At 7:34 p.m. Saturday, a magnitude 4.0 earthquake struck 26 miles southwest of Camp Pendleton.
The epicenter of that earthquake is about 30 miles away from the center of the rash of microquakes off La Jolla, according to seismograph data from the universities' network.
Burst of microquakes hit off La Jolla
SIGNONSANDIEGO NEWS SERVICES
10:50 a.m. September 9, 2007
LA JOLLA – A pair of very small earthquakes centered 8 miles off La Jolla rattled some coastal San Diego residents awake Sunday, but occurred about 30 miles away from the epicenter of a larger quake that struck late Saturday.
Sunday morning's first quake struck at 6:11 a.m. with a magnitude 3.7. A 2.7 temblor struck at 6:40 a.m. Both were centered seven miles beneath the ocean floor, according to automated seismographs operated by the U.S. Geologic Survey and a consortium of universities.
A series of more than a dozen very-small earthquakes centered off the La Jolla and Pacific Beach coasts have erupted in the past week, including an magnitude 3.2 quake that hit at 12:10 p.m. Friday, and a magnitude 4.0 that hit at 7:48 a.m. Tuesday.
At 7:34 p.m. Saturday, a magnitude 4.0 earthquake struck 26 miles southwest of Camp Pendleton.
The epicenter of that earthquake is about 30 miles away from the center of the rash of microquakes off La Jolla, according to seismograph data from the universities' network.
Chicago Sun Times
Open letter to Owen Wilson
BY CATHLEEN FALSANI
Religion Writer
This is a bit of a departure for me, as I’m not in the habit of writing fan letters.
In fact, the last one I sent was a bubble-lettered note to the actor Jon Cryer about 20 years ago in the wake of his earth-moving (for a 16-year-old alt-chick from the suburbs) portrayal of Duckie Dale in “Pretty in Pink.”
But under the circumstances, I thought it was OK to err on the side of sycophancy. So …
Thank God you’re still with us, brother.
Please don’t try that again. We need you.
And by we, I mean the world.
As you well know, these are precarious, fraught times we live in, and the one thing we cannot bear to lose is our sense of humor.
To paraphrase that great celluloid shaman Elwood Blues, you, Mr. Wilson, are on a mission from God.
Just a ‘TV friend’
Laughter is carbonated holiness, and you, therefore, are a holy man, at least according to the theology of Anne Lamott. She’s my favorite writer, a funny lady who is as acquainted with melancholy as she is with humor.
I once asked Annie whether she thought we — people — could be grace for one another. “I think we can hold space for other people,” she said.
In that way, you have been grace for me. On certain overwhelming days, when it’s hard to catch my breath and bleakness curls around my heart like a purring cat, I can reach for any of your films — “Rushmore,” “The Royal Tenenbaums,” “Life Aquatic” or “You Me and Dupree” — and laughter liberates my soul. Your words, written or spoken, sometimes provide the space for joy where it felt like there was none.
Thank you for that.
Now, I don’t know you from Adam. You’re just a “TV friend,” as they say. Still, I can’t help but believe that the common thread in your character portrayals — whether it’s whacked-out-on-mescaline Eli Cash, self-effacing fatherless Ned Plimpton, or tiny-cowboy-with-a-Napoleon-complex Jedediah — is the inherent you. The Owen-ness. It’s a certain empathy — profound tenderness, really — that makes the ridiculous compelling and buoys tragedy to comedy.
Seeing with God’s eyes
It is precisely because of your wounded-ness and the visible cracks in your veneer that your characters transcend two-dimensional clownishness.
You are the ne’er-do-well we root for in spite of himself (and our own judgementalism). You bring out the best in us and make it easy to forgive setting the living room on fire or crashing our wedding (or funeral). You are the mensch, the fool for the Lord, the stranger whom we let in, the divine comedian.
One blogger, a journalist who apparently knew you in Austin, Texas, back in the day, described you recently in a heartfelt essay as “a human sunbeam in the abyss.”
I’m guessing, given recent events, that kind of description may seem laughable to you. Still, that’s how many folks perceive you even if you can’t see it yourself. And sometimes strangers can see us far more clearly than we are capable of seeing ourselves. If we’re really lucky, they might see us with God’s eyes.
I had to chuckle at one of the news reports about your hospitalization that breathlessly reported you had visited a Santa Monica church the Sunday before the incident, “either out of desperation or devotion.'’ Really, I can think of no better reasons to go to church. After all, to quote Annie again, the best two prayers one can offer to the Creator are: “Help me, help me, help me,” and “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Should you find yourself back at that church or another, please know it is meant to be a shelter in the storm, the place where brokenness is the only prerequisite for membership, and where grace is shared by the bucketsful.
Know that you don’t struggle alone, that you have kind company during dark nights of the soul, that you are lifted in prayer by those who know and love you best, as well as by those who only know you as the voice of Lightning McQueen.
Please let others hold space for you until the encroaching shadow of despair passes. And it will.
And when your contagious laughter bubbles to the surface and overflows once again, know that you are in the presence of the holy.
We need you and the peals of holy laughter you inspire.
BY CATHLEEN FALSANI
Religion Writer
This is a bit of a departure for me, as I’m not in the habit of writing fan letters.
In fact, the last one I sent was a bubble-lettered note to the actor Jon Cryer about 20 years ago in the wake of his earth-moving (for a 16-year-old alt-chick from the suburbs) portrayal of Duckie Dale in “Pretty in Pink.”
But under the circumstances, I thought it was OK to err on the side of sycophancy. So …
Thank God you’re still with us, brother.
Please don’t try that again. We need you.
And by we, I mean the world.
As you well know, these are precarious, fraught times we live in, and the one thing we cannot bear to lose is our sense of humor.
To paraphrase that great celluloid shaman Elwood Blues, you, Mr. Wilson, are on a mission from God.
Just a ‘TV friend’
Laughter is carbonated holiness, and you, therefore, are a holy man, at least according to the theology of Anne Lamott. She’s my favorite writer, a funny lady who is as acquainted with melancholy as she is with humor.
I once asked Annie whether she thought we — people — could be grace for one another. “I think we can hold space for other people,” she said.
In that way, you have been grace for me. On certain overwhelming days, when it’s hard to catch my breath and bleakness curls around my heart like a purring cat, I can reach for any of your films — “Rushmore,” “The Royal Tenenbaums,” “Life Aquatic” or “You Me and Dupree” — and laughter liberates my soul. Your words, written or spoken, sometimes provide the space for joy where it felt like there was none.
Thank you for that.
Now, I don’t know you from Adam. You’re just a “TV friend,” as they say. Still, I can’t help but believe that the common thread in your character portrayals — whether it’s whacked-out-on-mescaline Eli Cash, self-effacing fatherless Ned Plimpton, or tiny-cowboy-with-a-Napoleon-complex Jedediah — is the inherent you. The Owen-ness. It’s a certain empathy — profound tenderness, really — that makes the ridiculous compelling and buoys tragedy to comedy.
Seeing with God’s eyes
It is precisely because of your wounded-ness and the visible cracks in your veneer that your characters transcend two-dimensional clownishness.
You are the ne’er-do-well we root for in spite of himself (and our own judgementalism). You bring out the best in us and make it easy to forgive setting the living room on fire or crashing our wedding (or funeral). You are the mensch, the fool for the Lord, the stranger whom we let in, the divine comedian.
One blogger, a journalist who apparently knew you in Austin, Texas, back in the day, described you recently in a heartfelt essay as “a human sunbeam in the abyss.”
I’m guessing, given recent events, that kind of description may seem laughable to you. Still, that’s how many folks perceive you even if you can’t see it yourself. And sometimes strangers can see us far more clearly than we are capable of seeing ourselves. If we’re really lucky, they might see us with God’s eyes.
I had to chuckle at one of the news reports about your hospitalization that breathlessly reported you had visited a Santa Monica church the Sunday before the incident, “either out of desperation or devotion.'’ Really, I can think of no better reasons to go to church. After all, to quote Annie again, the best two prayers one can offer to the Creator are: “Help me, help me, help me,” and “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Should you find yourself back at that church or another, please know it is meant to be a shelter in the storm, the place where brokenness is the only prerequisite for membership, and where grace is shared by the bucketsful.
Know that you don’t struggle alone, that you have kind company during dark nights of the soul, that you are lifted in prayer by those who know and love you best, as well as by those who only know you as the voice of Lightning McQueen.
Please let others hold space for you until the encroaching shadow of despair passes. And it will.
And when your contagious laughter bubbles to the surface and overflows once again, know that you are in the presence of the holy.
We need you and the peals of holy laughter you inspire.
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