The Breakfast Club (Taken By The Wind)

Welcome to The Breakfast Club! We're a disorganized group of rebel lefties who hang out and chat if and when we're not too hungover  we've been bailed out we're not too exhausted from last night's (CENSORED) the caffeine kicks in. Join us every weekday morning at 9am (ET) and
weekend morning at 10:30am (ET) to talk about current news and our
boring lives and to make fun of LaEscapee! If we are ever running late,
it's PhilJD's fault.
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This Day in History

 

 

 

Today in History for February 4th

  

 

 

   

World War II's Yalta Conference; O.J. Simpson found
liable for the murders of his ex-wife and her friend; Patty Hearst
kidnapped; the Massachusetts gay marriage ruling; aviator Charles
Lindbergh born.

Breakfast Tunes

 

 

 

Fleetwood Mac - Rhiannon (Official Music Video)

  

 

 

   

Something to Think about over Coffee Prozac

 

Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated.

Confucius

Stupid Shit by LaEscapee

Admissions


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Altruism

Maybe I was born this way. Maybe it's a genetic mutation.

Maybe it happened when I was sitting on the dock of the bay in my hippie youth.

Maybe it happened because once upon a time it became clear that my life and my needs didn't matter to the progress of this thing we call human society and its relationship with and survival on this planet.

Which means maybe Poul Anderson is to blame.

The graphic is entitled Pencil and Wax.

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Assuming Roles, Duties and Responsibilities

See the screw slowly turn around
See it sink without a sound
Feel your head split with every turn
Feel the steel knob begin to burn
All is lost now, it seems that way
All is lost now, it seems that way

Being Different photo bdif.jpgFrom one of my readers:

I would be very much interested
in all the dynamic you and your family went through, in detail. I bet it would make for a lot of drama and sell more books because of it, if it ia published. Without that it seems a little too abstract and philosophical for me anyway. But maybe I missed some of what you have posted.

The graphic is entitled Being Different.

All righty then...

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The Observer

Once upon a time...

...or maybe it was twice. Come to think of it, it was definitely much more often than that.

It was, after all, all about the time. Then again, it was also about the place and the people who were there and the things that happened. So maybe I need to restart.

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Once upon a spacetime, I was there. I have been an observer. In many ways I have lead a Gumpian existence. Somehow I adopted the notion that it was important for me to observe and record. If not me, who?

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The Breakfast Club (Halftime Show)

It's Throwball's Superb Owl Sunday!

Now some folks watch for the super expensive commercials. But it was always all about the halftime show as far as most of my friends were concerned. At the beginning of the third quarter we'd drag ourselves back up into the stands and start to chant  Let's Go Home! Let's Go Home! Let's Go Home! Sadly, the football coach thought we were cheering for the home team.

These days when I'm looking to indulge in the spectacle of spectating athletic puppies and kittens, or the Bowl of Super Bread and circuses, I know I'll find a welcoming home at the live blogging party at the park.

Halftime Show Warm Up Tune:  I Kissed a Girl , A Katy Perry Banjo Cover by Susan Elizabeth

 

 

I Kissed a Girl on Banjo

 

Whatever you do, don't google wardrobe malfunctions to check the spelling.

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The Closet

Breakout photo color.gifThis chapter was written while I had taken a hiatus from Daily Kos and begun front paging at Docudharma. I published five days before Docudrama opened to the public. It was the first entry of my Friday Philosophy column.

To give some context, this essay was written in response to some folks ragging on gays who live in the closet.

I've updated it just a bit to bring it into the present.

News Flash: Joel Gray came out as gay. That's a shocker.

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Death

All the other times I began writing my autobiography (which supplied some of the chapters I have already shared) in the end suffered the same fate: I couldn't figure out how it was going to end. After all I wasn't dead yet.

But perhaps this will be the terminal chapter in my book. I'll have to think seriously about that.

I sometimes (partially facetiously) refer to myself as "immortal until proven otherwise." This is different than I have felt about the subject in the past (witness four suicide attempts). But I am a survivor and see no reason for that to change. Sure, my body might wear out and no longer function well enough to support keeping my being in contact with the world of our outward shared reality (or is that our shared hallucination?), but I cannot believe that my body is the sum total of who I am (for one thing, there's just not enough room in there to hold all that is me).

Our culture (is there really such a general concept?) has always seemed to me to place too much emphasis on death, about how we must "prepare" for it (some people spend way too much energy doing so, in my opinion) and how we must live our lives so that some unknown Good Thing will happen when we die. The truth of the matter (well, it's *my* truth) is that we don't really know what will happen to us when our bodies no longer function. All is speculation or hope...faith, if you will. Someday my heart will stop beating. What will happen at that moment is anybody's guess. Think of it as passing through a door that only permits one-way travel.

I think the worst that can happen is that there will be nothingness, that the "me" that is connected to my physical form would cease to be. What a waste of lessons learned that would be!

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