the weary darkness

the weary darkness

fights the street light a bit more

before giving up

failing summer

becoming undressed

in the blue morning breezes

of failing summer

Utah governor and Utah, schools superintendent issue plea to former teachers: Come back

According to Dickson, there are about 30,000 Utahns who have teaching credentials who are currently not in the classroom.  Deseret News.

You want me back to teach those kids?

You must have really flipped your lids!

I will not teach again, no way.

It isn't just about the pay,

but rather that the kids are glued

to their text-ridden cyber mood.

Plus why should I patrol the school

to keep those brats from vaping Juul?

Working in the private sector

compared to yours is truly nectar.

Trump administration to triple the size of Texas tent camp for migrant children

Come now, little kiddies; it is time for Uncle Trump

to serve you up some nice warm gruel here in your prison dump.

We're putting up more tents, you see, for all your little chums

who will soon be joining you to share your tasty crumbs.

Your mommy and your daddy have gone O so far away;

you will not be seeing them forever and a day.

But don't be sad, sweet children; for your prison guards are kind.

For they will give you crayons while you're thoughtfully confined.

And by the time you are released in far futurity

you can start receiving lots of Social Security.

Another Ghost Story I like to Tell My Grandkids

THE TWO FOOLHARDY EXPLORERS

There once were two very brave explorers, named Bob and Tom, who looked for dangerous places and things to investigate. They had gone to India to hunt down giant man-eating tigers. They went to Africa to look for a mountain of gold in the middle of an impenetrable jungle that was full of spiders as big as dinner tables. They sailed over dark and distant oceans fishing for singing sharks and radioactive squid. Nothing scared them -- nothing at all.

One day they decided to go explore the Witch's Cemetery in Salem, Massachusetts. This cemetery is where the old New England people buried all the witches they had tortured and then burned to death. It was very gloomy, and even after three hundred years it still smelled like charred bones. Some people said that devils and ghouls liked to creep around the tombstones at night, looking for anyone unwary enough to be out there in the dark -- and they would grab them and eat them up, skin, bones, and boogers! No one went there after sunset. Not ever.

But then Bob and Tom went into the cemetery one night, with a big flashlight and a two-way walkie talkie set. They looked at all the gravestones and funeral statues, until they came to a slab in the ground that said "DON'T COME AFTER ME, OR I'LL COME AFTER YOU!" 

Well, this made them very curious, so they took a crowbar and lifted up the slab -- and underneath the slab was a set of stone stairs that led down, down into the blackness. The air that rose up from the stairs was cold and made their skin crawl. Bob decided he would go down the stairs to see what was at the bottom, and Tom would stay at the top. So he took his walkie talkie and went down, down into the darkness with the big flashlight. He kept talking to Tom on it.

"So far there's nothing down here but cobwebs and tree roots" he said to Tom.

Then he said: "That's funny, seems like those tree roots are acting like worms -- wiggling around and trying to grab on to me."

And then Bob started to moan and cry, and finally he said over the walkie talkie: "Tom, I think you better come down and get me -- there's a set of big red glowing eyes up ahead, and they keep blinking at me and getting closer!" 

Tom quickly got out the gun from his holster and was getting ready to go down the steps when a terrible gurgling scream came from the walkie talkie, and then silence.

"Bob! Bob!" cried Tom into the walkie talkie. "Are you all right down there? Should I still come down to get you?"

Bob waited a long time before he heard a reply -- and it was not the voice of his fellow explorer Bob. No, it was a deep, husky, and hungry sounding voice that said to him: "You don't need to come down for Bob anymore. He's gone. But I'm coming up to get YOU!"

Birthday Greetings from my friend Gai in Thailand

Me, clowning at a Thai hospital c. 1974

My dear friend Tim,

Hello from me and Thailand. How are you Tim? I enjoy readimg your Squid hunting in the sea of Ban Pae. I am jealous of you, I never have a chance to go for Squid hunting like you.

I also had a good memory of Samed Island. This reminded me the time when I was working at the Panat Nikhom Refugee Camp in Chonburi. I was there for 9 years. And for most of us staffs who's working there. Koh Samed has always been our favorite place for us to go hang out and enjoy ourselves. My friends and me as a total of 16 people, we rented a Song Taew truck and head to Ban Pae on Friday evening. Some of my friend brought their guitar, banjo, and mouth organ along with them. These guys were our music entertainers. Our favorite beach were at Haad Tubtim. We have been there until we got to be closed friend with Naa Jaew who is the owner and her kids. Especially with me she tried to offer me a job as a cook for her customers. I told her if she's willing to pay me the same salary like I made from the camp then I'll accept her offer. But she can't because my pay was much more than she normally pay her local staff. The owner and the staffs always treat us like their family. So we spent our money to have good sea food for dinner by the beach. Then after dinner, we sit in a circle on the beach and then our entertainers begin singing their songs. We as audiences sing along with them. Several times they asked me to do a solo singing some love songs. Our singing and the sound of the instruments got the other tourists attention to jam with us. They use the spoon tio make little bang by hitting the beer bottles. We sure had a great time everytime we were there. Until now it has been almost 20 years I have not had a chance to visit my favorite island again. I really miss Kho Samed very much.

Tomorrow will be an important day for me. Because Nathan and his wife Annie will come along with the elders to visit me at home. I am really excited to meet with them. I just wish that my right hand would be alright coz I want to prepare something for them to eat. I will keep you inform about our meeting tomorrow okay. And the elders will bring me a Book of Mormon so this time I will start to keep tract of my scripture study. I am very happy to read the scripture again after so many years. 

Well Tim I'm sure everyone's do think of you. I hope that all is well with you. I m looking forward to hear from you. May God bless you always. Bue.

Your friend,

Gai

The Tweets of Trump -- Media Leak Strategy revealed on Fox News

New Strzok-Page texts reveal “Media Leak Strategy.” @FoxNews So terrible, and NOTHING is being done at DOJ or FBI - but the world is watching, and they get it completely. @realDonaldTrump

The media does leak so much it's like a flood in spring;

they'll blab whatever comes their way, just any old false thing.

The DOJ and FBI won't raise a hand to stop

this outrage on our freedoms -- guess it's ME that plays the cop!

Robotic Repasts

Food manufacturers are combining advances in laser vision with artificial-intelligence software so that automated arms can carry out more-complex tasks, such as slicing chicken cutlets precisely or inspecting toppings on machine-made pizzas. At a sausage factory, more-powerful cameras and quicker processors enable robots to detect the twisted point between two cylindrical wieners fast enough that they can be cut apart at the rate of 200 a minute. WSJ

No robot ever made a meal

that had a lot of taste appeal.

They may be swift and quite precise,

but noshers pay an awful price

when automated butchers reign

and algorithms cook our grain;

'Spaghetti a la Fortran' reeks

of pasta bland served up by geeks.

And when my steak is android grilled

I do not think I'll be too thrilled.

I'm going to the woods to hunt

my venison, to be upfront;

so when I carve a joint or two

I'll know I will not find a screw.

A Letter from my Missionary Daughter Daisy in California

Hello all you beautiful people!!!

So sorry for not writing last week, all the libraries were closed because of the holiday, so I couldn't send out a big email. We're back this week though! 

This mission experience continues to be bizarre, wonderful, beautiful, crazy, stressful, difficult, glorious, and every other adjective you can think to include. I'm not sure why the following is true, but it is: the closer you get to the beach, the crazier the people get. I think homelessness is a growing problem here, but it is especially common near the beaches. We had a conversation with a sweet old homeless woman named Marjorie. She is a strong believer in God and has had many experiences to prove it. She had met missionaries before and would always say hi to them, she even has a Book of Mormon! One thing that surprised me was that she seemed perfectly content to be where she was and be who she was. She knows that God watches out for her and sends people to her like us, to help. All we did was listen to her, but I guess even something as small as that helps people sometimes. We invited her to church the next time she was in the area and she said she would come :) 

In church yesterday we talked about the law of sacrifice, which is devoting all of your time, talents and energy to God and his work, and how it really is a law of love. Sometimes we tend to fixate on how much we think we give up at certain points in our lives, and we don't think about the blessings that will come after the trial is over. In Romans 8:18 it says: 

18 For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. 

If we could see the blessings that are coming to us, we would have no fear or doubt. But I guess that's where faith comes in, right? We have to show God that we still believe he's there, even when we don't feel like he is. There will always be things that we have to sacrifice in order to be closer to God, but He always gives us ten times the blessings in return. Making those sacrifices, whatever they might be, show God that we love Him and are willing to give things up to know Him better. This life was never made for us to go through alone. It's made for us to learn how to turn to the only beings that can truly help us, our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. 

Sister Moosman and I have been working hard and we've seen that hard work paying off. We've been able to meet so many members who haven't been to church in a while, but who want to start making changes to come back. It takes a lot of work to be a part of the Lord's kingdom and some are not prepared to give what He asks, but He never leaves us to do it alone. That is something we will try and help them understand though. With the Lord, there's never "something for nothing". In the pictures below, you'll see a young man named Chris- in the middle of a group of missionaries- who just made the decision to be baptized and who we had the privilege of teaching. His father is a member, but he didn't grow up learning about the church very much and he took lessons from missionaries when he was a teenager, but they never really stuck with him. It wasn't until recently that he decided he wanted to really commit himself to God, so he made the decision to be baptised. He has been without work for a while, but found a job right when he made the decision to be baptised. It has been amazing to see how Chris has been blessed for that choice and for how much he has served his fellow men. A few days after our first lesson with him, he volunteered to help at a women's activity at the church and then a few days after that he helped someone in our ward move. Chris's greatest desire is to help people and for that I know God will bless him beyond measure. 

I am so thankful to be a part of God's work here in southern California! I know that this church is the true and living church of Jesus Christ on this earth today. He is at the head of it, and gives direction to a living prophet Russell M Nelson, who has been called of God. The Savior's Atonement works for all who will believe and come to him. I Am thankful for all of you and for your faith, prayers, love, and support! Have a wonderful week! 

Circuses and Bread Pudding

When I was 18 I joined Ringling Brothers Circus as a First of May, a new clown.

I was paid $125.00 per week, out of which union dues, linen service, and roomette rental were taken. It also cost a quarter to take the show bus to and from the arena in each town. I had to provide my own food, costumes, makeup, and clown props. That left little to spend on wine, women, and song; just enough for a Dixie cup of seltzer while I listened to Tammy Wynette singing 'Stand By Your Man' on a jukebox for a quarter. 

When the show reached New York City in April of 1972 to play Madison Square Garden, I found the inflated price of a meal in the Big Apple to be pauperizing. The show would be at the Garden for the next 3 months, and it appeared likely that the wolf at my door would soon invite himself in as a permanent, nonpaying, guest.

Lucky for me an old clown, Swede Johnson, told me about the Greek Joint. Across the street from the Garden, by the old Post Office, it served a huge bowl of bread pudding for 75 cents. But you had to get there by eleven each morning -- otherwise it would be sold out. 

This bread pudding was heavenly. It had a yellow hue and was chock-a-block with buxom raisins;  a creamy white syrup, chastely sweet but not cloying, kissed the top of each serving. I got it to go each morning, and nibbled on it contentedly all through the day to assuage my hunger pangs. After the evening show a few of us First of Mays would share a taxi down to China Town for a tub of chicken chow mein -- divvied five ways, the cost of the ride and the meal was about two-fifty each.

That's how I survived my 3 months on $125.00 a week in New York City. I grew to love that Greek Joint. I'm sorry that memory no longer provides me with the name of the place. The counter was always crowded three deep, and the clamor was ear popping. Even though I yearned to sink my teeth into their souvlaki, oozing with yogurt cucumber sauce, my budget just would not allow it. But I never grew tired of that glorious bread pudding. Every season that we played New York thereafter I could be found each morning at the counter of the Greek Joint, elbowing my way to the front for an order of bread pudding to go. Sometimes the men behind the counter, big burly mustachioed specimens as brusque as snapping turtles, would take pity on my lean wolfish look and toss in whatever happened to be lying around extra on the counter -- a sour pickle, a plastic container of feta cheese, or a large scrap of fried loukaniko sausage. Those guys were all right -- they helped keep me from being able to count my own ribs at night. 

I've never found bread pudding as good as theirs anywhere else. It's mostly served at buffet-style restaurants like Golden Corral or Chuck Wagon out here in Utah, where I now live. A caramelized mess, drowned in a gluey brown syrup, I can barely stomach more than two or three helpings. Just for old time's sake, y'know . . .