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Profile: ithink140
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User Name: ithink140
Forum Rank: Advanced Member
Occupation: All sorts
Interests: Varied
Gender: Male
Home Page http://Yahoo.co.uk
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Joined: Monday, March 04, 2013
Last Visit: Thursday, November 03, 2016 6:26:12 AM
Number of Posts: 2,453
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  Last 10 Posts
Topic: A pardon for Oscar Wilde?
Posted: Tuesday, November 01, 2016 12:41:55 PM
Poor Will. You do not change do you... so aggressive. You tend to shut down debate. But I bow to your great wisdom in that you noticed that Turing was forced to be chemically castrated because he was a homosexual... or to be more correct he opted for it to avoid a prison sentence. Gee, you are clever!

By the way it is the 'past mistakes' of others, so how is it possible to face up to the error of those who are dead. They have no voice and the social climate was different. You cannot own up on behalf of the dead.

I hold to all I have said with regard to Turing and others, but will not engage with you further. I know you of old. You are off-limits. Adieu!


'Life is too short to be eaten up by hate.'
Topic: Would YOU work for $25 a week?
Posted: Tuesday, November 01, 2016 12:13:44 PM
That was lucid and informed explanation, F

Another reason for the shift in emphasis is the failure of family, extended and otherwise, to care for their own. The family has weakened over the generations, folk have become more selfish or ‘busy’. They are less self-sacrificing. It used to be considered an honour to support the weak and aged of one’s family. Now it is a burden to be avoided. The extended family always took up the slack in the past. Folk were more together in love.


'Life is too short to be eaten up by hate.'
Topic: A pardon for Oscar Wilde?
Posted: Tuesday, November 01, 2016 11:57:08 AM
In the case of Turing, I see his pardon not for the reason that he was a homosexual, but that he was pretty well forced to undergo chemical castration. That was cruel.

'Life is too short to be eaten up by hate.'
Topic: Would YOU work for $25 a week?
Posted: Tuesday, November 01, 2016 11:34:28 AM
I have worked for long periods without financial reward. My reward was the sense of joy at a job well done and a worthy cause.

I think many folk, who are able, would do the same thing.

Stipend is still in regular but narrow use in the UK


'Life is too short to be eaten up by hate.'
Topic: A pardon for Oscar Wilde?
Posted: Tuesday, November 01, 2016 11:21:08 AM
I like your illustration of the horse and the effects of the victim. However folk have been hung for snaring a rabbit or stealing food in order to survive. In ancient Israel farmers were not allowed to harvest the headland, and if a sheaf fell off the cart it was to be left for the gleaners.

As I see it there is no end to perceived injustices meriting and crying out for equity of treatment. I am not sure of the merits of retrospective pardons in general, although some are obviously required... such as during the period of apartheid in South Africa. The problem is how far do you go back? Monetary settlement and apologies are sought for the wrongs done in the ignominious slave trade period, yet the present generation is not to blame. Undoubtedly that is an issue of greater merit than the wronging of homosexuals. It seems to me that it is an example of ‘he who shouts the loudest…’ is the most influential.


'Life is too short to be eaten up by hate.'
Topic: A pardon for Oscar Wilde?
Posted: Tuesday, November 01, 2016 10:14:56 AM
Thanks for the update, Sarrriesfan... I checked out your link... good to hear... what about other perceived injustices throughout history or does it depend on the power of the lobbying?

'Life is too short to be eaten up by hate.'
Topic: Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes, and prism are all very good words for the lips: especially prunes and prism.
Posted: Tuesday, November 01, 2016 10:03:12 AM
Dickens characters are fictional and therefore nothing originates from them. The words obviously came from the mind of the author, so it is perfectly in order to say Dickens 'spoke' these words. Mrs General is a figment of the imagination. However for the pedantic among us it is would be more correct to attribute the words to one of Dickens characters and by default to Dickens himself.

As to whether Dickens agreed with the words given to his character... we will never know. I write poetry and novels as well as lots of short stories, and I am in agreement with much, but not all, that I write. Some the expressions made by my characters I most certainly do not ascribe to... others... well I gel with their sentiments.



'Life is too short to be eaten up by hate.'
Topic: A pardon for Oscar Wilde?
Posted: Tuesday, November 01, 2016 8:43:40 AM
How about pardoning those who were hung for stealing a sheep in olden times, or those hung for poaching? What about those who were hung for pick pocketing or stealing food to sate hunger? The list goes on and on. This navel gazing is silly. It is not possible to right all wrongs, but if you seen to right what you perceive as one wrong, then surely you are obliged to go the whole hog and trawl through the statute book to find ’victims’ of other unjust laws and punishments? Why are homosexuals being singled out for retrospective pardons and not others who may well be more deserving of such? What about those poor shell-shocked soldiers shot for cowardice. They are for more deserving of a pardon. Surely? What is so noble about sexual preference that it should be singled out? Yes the law was overstrict, but that is the past is it not and the social climate was different.

THE GIBBBET

Dark, stark against open sky, high on grassy upland down.
Stands alone an ancient oaken Gibbet,
Sentinel above sunken valley, pointing o’er market town.
Old, cold, wrinkled, grey and knotted, creaking squeaking
To the tune of high land winds.
Tho’ inert and voiceless, yet by standing is also speaking.
No need for words, for explanations or for reasons,
Enough just to resist the march of time,
To exist throughout the constant changing seasons.
Monument to salutary justice and witness to great error,
Ending for murderer and poacher alike.
Designed, carefully placed to induce deep lasting terror
A memorial of swifter yet more uncertain judgment climes,
A relic of the past, existing now in these more genteel times.



THE POACHERS ESCAPE


2006




Early on a crisp cold morn about the hour of two
There trod a lonely poacher through woodlands strange and new
The ride he walked was wide and long, the poacher young and strong.
T’was deep in mid-December and the frost was white as snow
And the faded grass beneath his feet was bent and bow’ed low
As his breath blew out a shrouded mist upon air so sharp and cold
While to his right, o’er silent night, the moon shone bright and bold.

Now he was king of all he saw, and he scoffed at those who made the law,
Yes, at those who made the law, and yet they robbed the poor,
They robbed the poor, stole their land, and made them live from hand to hand.
And when they tried to feed their own in acts of desperation
They crushed them, yes, with all the force of wicked litigation.
They made the law, they framed the law, they made mischief by decree
They placed upon the human life, a value arbitrary.

His eyes they danced from tree to tree, examining every branch,
A fattened pheasant was his goal, if perching here perchance
For then at last, his wife and child would feast a rich repast.
He may not be a Lord or Earl, nor the Vicar or the Mayor
But he, and his by right of birth, was entitled to such fare.
Was he not such as them, yes one of God’s own creatures,
So should he not by dint of that, share in all life’s features?

Then all at once he saw that shape, oh so familiar to his eyes,
So straight and true he aligned his gun to deliver up the prize.
Now a golden cock plump and young, would soon adorn his table.
For that the risk was great, yes he knew he had chanced his arm,
But with great aplomb he’d carried it out, with his customary calm.
Now the moon above lit his homeward path, upon the frosted forest floor
And his heart was singing freedom, as he headed for his lowly cottage door.

Alas, a blackened cloud then blocked the light of the silvery shining moon
And soon the atmosphere was laden, with a heavy sense of doom,
As he stopped in fear, with ears attuned to the stillness of the night.
Then in the quiet he thought of his wife and he thought of his son,
And t’was then he pondered the price of the victory he had won.
Now he longed to be by his fireside hearth in the glow of a radiant fire,
Listening to softened strains on strings, while his wife gave heart to the lyre.

But all at once from within the wood there arose a great commotion,
Then the keeper rushed onto the ride possessed of wild emotion,
An old school pal he proved to be, but with his loyalties now divided.
Their guns were primed and loaded, as they now stood face to face,
Away from the face of the human race in that dark and desolate place.
And the poacher knew, sentence final, would be the harsh decree,
Yes, he knew that ere the week was out, he would hang for all to see.

One faced a sentence censorious from the authorities that be
One the horns of a dilemma, due to his divided loyalty,
While both struggled with emotions from which they wanted to be free.
If the poacher pulled the trigger he would go back to his beloved wife,
But he would gain this freedom at the cost of a human life.
If the keeper now pulled the trigger then his safety he would assure,
But the death of his old school friend, he would be unable to endure.




Not even the silvery shining moon was a witness to this sight
To the fate of two old friends on that darkened windblown night
As the seconds paraded like hours, putting time to flight.
The atmosphere was strained and tense; a word had not been spoken
But when the moon shone through the cloud, the impasse then was broken.
For now the light of reason pervaded hearts, and opened up compassion’s door,
So resigned to death the poacher, laid his gun on the frosted forest floor.

But the keeper with beauteous mercy, now turned into the wood,
While the poacher came to terms that he had risked his families good,
Then a pheasant shout echoed through the night, a herald to this glorious sight.
Yes the sight of the power of reason joined with natures inherent laws,
Seeing poor do good to poor in such a just and righteous cause.
And the silvery shining moon saw Sacrifice with Mercy, walking hand in hand,
Those two great values of rational beauty true guardians of the land.

Bow down Tenet, Statute, Edict, Law, prostrate yourself before Nature’s door.
Observe the triumph of the human spirit on this lonely frosted forest floor,
Then give way Lord, Earl, Vicar and Mayor, and of humble pie take your share.
O wickedness of some selfish man made laws, Oh iniquity of unjust cause.
O unrighteousness of vested interests, Oh cunning hearts in human breasts.
The misuse of unbridled power, yes, and the cruel dominance of might
Could not stand before the beauty of what is simple just and right.

And the poacher’s heart was singing freedom, but a poacher now no more
As the moon above lit his way, through the frosted forest floor,
And the keeper’s soul was knocking on the hearth of heaven’s door.
Now remember you who make the law, that law it has no heart,
And remember that in law beauteous mercy takes no part.
So frame your laws in righteousness, yes be flexible be free
And remember, the One above demands the path of modesty.




And you who sit in judgment enveloped by your laws,
Give place to other parties to argue different cause,
Walk you not alone, but with companions stop and pause.
Provide your seats for Mercy, for Forgiveness and for Reason,
Administer your judgments, with these three grant them season.
And when law needs to show its teeth then balance will be reached,
But when law needs to bend, then its bulwark will be breached.















'Life is too short to be eaten up by hate.'
Topic: Haiku Fun
Posted: Saturday, October 29, 2016 6:16:33 AM
Hippocratic oath:
Hippo! hippo! hippo! hip-
po! hippo! hippo!


Get out of that!

'Life is too short to be eaten up by hate.'
Topic: My quotation of the day
Posted: Saturday, October 29, 2016 6:10:22 AM
“All we see of someone at any moment is a snapshot of their life, there in riches or poverty, in joy or despair. Snapshots don't show the million decisions that led to that moment.
Richard Bach


'Life is too short to be eaten up by hate.'

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