Ken Shade's Quote of the Day

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Quote of the Day

Monday , March 3, 2008 09:16

Quote of the Day

Table Manners

In India, Northerners pride themselves
on eating only with their fingertips,
while Southerners enjoy their foods
with the entire hand, to the wrist if need be.

No wonder JoAnn and I sit stunned
at the dinner table as our cousins
scoop and slurp their lunch: dried fish
in gingilly oil, poori soaked first

in sambar then cooled in cucumber rayta.
I motion to Oomana, the servant girl:
do you have fork, spoon? She laughs
a little longer than necessary, then

disappears into the storage room.
Each finger-lick makes us grimace
but secretly I want to join them
in slick-smacking this beautiful food.

The three-year-old sees my fork
and cries until he gets one
of his own to bang and draw
lines in his plate of sauce.

No one here ever wishes
you happiness and now I know why:
this is supposed to be of your own doing,
your own relish, of your own open hands.

© Aimee Nezhukumatathil

http://www.ourownvoice.com/poems/poems2005a-nezhukumatathil5.shtml

Wednesday , February 20, 2008 03:58

Quote of the Day

"Things you'll never hear a woman say: 'My, what an attractive scrotum!'"

Patricia Arquette

Tuesday , February 19, 2008 08:58

Quote of the Day

"You know, one of the hardest parts of my job is to connect Iraq to the war on terror."

George W. Bush, in an interview with CBS News Anchor Katie Couric

Monday , February 18, 2008 11:06

Quote of the Day

"A good head and good heart are always a formidable combination. But when you add to that a literate tongue or pen, then you have something very special."

Nelson Mandela

Saturday , February 16, 2008 08:56

Quote of the Day

"1) Avoid fried meats which angry up the blood.
2) If your stomach disputes you, lie down and pacify it with cool thoughts.
3) Keep the juices flowing by jangling around gently as you move.
4) Go very light on the vices, such as carrying on in society. The social ramble ain't restful.
5) Avoid running at all times.
6) Don't look back. Something might be gaining on you."

Satchel Paige

Tuesday , February 12, 2008 06:25

Quote of the Day

"I came into this world black, naked and ugly. And no matter how much I accumulate here, it's a short journey. I will go out of this world black, naked and ugly. So I enjoy life."

Screamin' Jay Hawkins

Sunday , February 10, 2008 11:36

Quote of the Day

"If we took away women's right to vote, we'd never have to worry about another Democrat president. It's kind of a pipe dream, it's a personal fantasy of mine, but I don't think it's going to happen. And it is a good way of making the point that women are voting so stupidly, at least single women."

Ann Coulter

Wednesday , February 6, 2008 05:13

Quote of the Day

Vladimir: Before you go, tell him to sing.
Pozzo:: Who?
Vladimir: Lucky.
Pozzo: To sing?
Vladimir: Yes. Or to think. Or to recite.
Pozzo: But he is dumb.
Vladimir: Dumb?
Pozzo: Dumb. He can't even groan.
Vladimir: Dumb! Since when?
Pozzo: Have you not done tormenting me with your accursed time! It's abominable! When! When! One day, is that not enough for you, one day he went dumb, one day I went blind, one day we'll go deaf, one day we were born, one day we shall die, the same day, the same second, is that not enough for you? They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.

Waiting for Godot
Samuel Becket
1949

Monday , February 4, 2008 09:54

Quote of the Day

I did a google search of the phrase "by unexpected sparks" because I wanted to use a famous Samuel Johnson statement as the QOTD.

I found the Samuel Johnson quote at the beginning of a piece of Star Trek "fan fiction." ( http://209.85.173.104/search?q=cache:sdaDcw1L_OoJ:www.fastcopyinc.com/orionpress/2266-2270_The_First_Mission/unexpected_sparks.htm+%22by+unexpected+sparks%22&hl=en&ct=clnk&cd=2&gl=us&ie=UTF-8 ) Like most "fan fiction," especially that inspired by Star Trek, it is funny in ways the author did not intend.

I decided to share it with you.
_________________________________________________________________________________________

Unexpected Sparks

Chris Dickenson

"Pleasure is very seldom found where it is sought. Our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks"

--Samuel Johnson

2267
Stardate 6783.2

"Isn’t that a rather morbid choice?" Uhura questioned dubiously, eyeing the helmsman as he postured before her.

"And dressing up like a skeleton Isn’t morbid?" Sulu chuckled in response. "That’s what Riley’s going as, you know. It is a Halloween party after all."

"I know, but this—" She gestured at the costume. "This nearly got you killed down on Beta Three."

Sulu shrugged fatalistically. "It’s a shame to waste it, though. The computer might have gotten the wrong period as far as style goes, but you’ve got to admit the fit is perfect. Besides, that was nearly a year ago."

Uhura smiled, admiring his slender, well-proportioned frame as he twisted to see his back in the mirror. "At the risk of giving you a swelled head, I must admit you look marvelous," she laughed. "You cute little Archon, you!"

Sulu bowed with the exaggerated grace of a dancer. "Thank you, fair maiden!"

"Sorry," she slipped off his bunk. "Neither, as you well know."

Sulu grinned at the long-standing joke, his grin widening as Uhura gave him an affectionate hug and a peck on the cheek. "You behave yourself tonight, D’Artagnon," she murmured as she released him.

"So, what are you going as?" Sulu slipped off the jacket to his suit and folding it.

"A belly dancer." Uhura’s dark eyes sparkled mischievously. "Straight from the Arabian Nights, but I have to get started on it, the masquerade is tonight. I’ve been so busy kibitzing with Chris on her outfit—"

"What’s her costume going to be?"

"Hopefully a big surprise." Uhura’s lips curved into a mysterious grin. "You’ll see tonight; I’ve got to get moving, or I’ll end up going as a denizen of Belian."

"Now, that would be interesting," Sulu teased. The people of Belian were nudists. "Either way, promise to save me a dance; I have a feeling you’re going to be fighting the men off with a stick."

"That’s always my plan!" Uhura laughed as she headed for the door.

"Hey! What color mask goes with this outfit?"

"Black, of course," she called over her shoulder. "It’s mysterious and sexy."

Sulu shook his head as he sank into the spot which Uhura had Just vacated. He seriously doubted that a black mask could transform him from Sulu the helmsman to Sulu the man of mystery, but he was willing to give it a try. He grinned, recalling a conversation he had overheard a few days ago between Lieutenants Kevin Riley and Carrie Drew.

"There’s not much fun in a masquerade when you know everyone," Drew said wistfully. "That’s the biggest problem with serving aboard a starship. After a few months, you know all there is to know about nearly everyone." She sighed. "No romance, no surprises."

"I’d consider an enemy attack a surprise," Riley responded. "And the last landing party I was assigned to was—"

"I’m not talking about those kinds of surprises, Kevin." Drew tossed her copper tresses over her shoulder impatiently. "It’s sad; I thought being in Starfleet would be kind of romantic, but there Isn’t really anything romantic about working a transporter, or overhauling warp engines."

"Don’t ye let Scotty hear ye talk like that, Carrie, lass," Riley warned in an outrageous Imitation of the chief engineer. "He’ll transfer ye to life sciences!"

Drew threw her hands up in front of her, as if pleading for her very life. "Oh please! Not life sciences! Don’t make me work for the walking chronometer! Please, I’ll do anything..." Her voice trailed into a throaty chuckle. "Seriously though, that’s not the kind of surprise I was talking about."

"I know," he said, his grin fading. "I guess you’re right. A life in the stars does sound romantic, but in reality it’s just another job. I guess that’s why we have masquerades."

"For dreamers like me to indulge in a little romance?" she laughed self-consciously. "It sounds kind silly when you put it that way. It’s not that I don’t like what I do for a living, because I do, but sometimes I wish..." Her voice trailed off again, and she shrugged. "I can’t explain."

The topic had moved along to more mundane matters, but Sulu had been unable to forget the longing in the pretty lieutenant’s green eyes as she spoke of her desire for romance. Sulu understood what she had been trying to say to his uncomprehending friend, because he had a romantic streak of his own, whiling away many a boring watch in fantasies of himself in an exotic setting. Recently, however, he had found the setting, almost unimportant in comparison to the emerald-eyed, auburn-tressed heroine he always found himself rescuing from some threat.

"It’s mysterious and sexy," Uhura’s words rang in his thoughts as he looked at the archaic suit jacket he held in his hand. He rose from his bunk, going to his priviewer to access engineering’s duty roster. He smiled. Drew was working the transporter room today, and Kyle owed him a favor. As he finished changing out of his costume, he began to whistle a cheery little tune. The time had come to kindle some unexpected sparks.

*****

"I’ve always been a sucker for a uniform," Carrie Drew confided with a laugh.

"My dear," Leonard McCoy assured, as he accompanied the attractive lieutenant down the corridor. "We’re not talkin’ about a borin’ old Starfleet uniform. There’s a charm about a Confederate uniform that defies casual description."

"In other words, I’ll have to see it to believe it?"

"Right. It’s a symbol of simpler times, a time when men were men and ladies..." McCoy paused as they reached the door to the transporter room, taking her right hand and bowing slightly as he pressed it to his lips. "...were ladies," he finished emphatically, blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Why, Doctor McCoy," Drew teased. "You almost make me believe in miracles!"

"Ah, Lieutenant," McCoy responded with a smile. "You almost make me believe in magnolia blossoms on a starship!"

Drew entered the transporter room still smiling at the good doctor’s play-acting. She caught herself wishing that she could find someone who saw romance as something more than an outdated custom of the past. Get real, Carrie, she scolded herself silently as she greeted Chief Kyle.

"No change here. Nothing happening until we arrive at Beta Reticuli in a day or two," Kyle reported as he backed away from the console. (I must take a moment, here, to give you the definition of "reticuli" : "the second compartments of the stomachs of ruminants in which folds of the mucous membrane form hexagonal cells." This is why I almost gagged on a Baked Ruffles potato chip when I read it. -- KDS)

"What’d you have for lunch?"

"Magnolia blossoms," she said with a smile as she took his place. In response to his puzzled expression, she laughed and shook her head. "Sorry, inside joke."

She looked down at the settings on the console and blinked. Lying across the top of the board was a single peach-colored rose. She picked it up, careful to avoid the thorns, and raised it to Inhale the heady fragrance. "Where did this come from?" she asked, looking up at where Kyle had been standing just as the door to the transporter room closed behind him.

Frowning, she looked back at the console. A plain white card stared up at her, and she read a brief message in a bold, flowing script:

Until tonight.

She grinned. Someone was teasing her. Probably Kevin, she decided, recalling their conversation of a few days ago. Serves me right for being so silly.

In spite of the logical explanation she had found for the gesture, she caught herself daydreaming as the shift wore on, admiring the rose and scrutinizing the handwriting on the card. Of course it was Kevin. He had quite a sense of humor. She shook her head and sniffed at the offering, unable to keep from wishing that it had come from someone else, a dark, mysterious stranger. If only...

*****

Sulu stood just inside the rec room doors, an untasted drink in one hand, swallowing his disappointment. All around him his costumed crewmates danced, flirting, laughing, enjoying the masquerade. He himself had begun the evening with high spirits, anticipating the arrival of a certain auburn-haired, green-eyed lieutenant. All evening long he had been looking In vain at the exotically costumed females. He had eliminated each candidate with a practiced eye: too short, too tall, wrong color hair. It was now almost midnight, and he knew with certainty that when the unmasking came, Carrie Drew’s pretty face would not appear from beneath any of the masks here in this room.

Riley appeared at his side, macabre in his costume. "You’re not enjoying yourself."

Sulu made no response, watching as Christine Chapel came toward them from the dance floor. In spite of his disappointment, he could not resist a smile. Uhura was right. Chapel’s costume had certainly been a surprise. He had never considered Chapel to be either particularly sexy or exotic,, but tonight those were the only words that suited her. She was wearing a body stocking that fit like a second skin and over it was draped a sparkling jeweled dress that enhanced the curves of her body. Uhura had called it Chapel’s love-slave costume, and she certainly looked the part. The ensemble was completed by a scarlet cloak which billowed out behind her as she approached.

"You can’t be leaving already?" Riley questioned, eyeing her unique costume with frank approval.

Chapel’s cheeks flushed pink at his bold perusal. "It’s getting late, and I have duty tomorrow...oh, that reminds me, Lieutenant Drew ended up pulling a double tonight to cover for Mariani, who’s down with the flu. Poor kid, she was really looking forward to this party. Anyway, Drew told me if I saw you, Kevin, to tell you thanks for the rose."

"Rose?" Riley frowned. "I don’t understand."

Chapel shrugged. "Maybe I misunderstood. Listen, I’m beat. See you guys later."

Riley turned to ask Sulu what he made of the cryptic message, but his friend had disappeared. Echoing Chapel’s shrug, Riley drained his glass of punch and headed for the refreshment table for a refill.

*****

Drew tapped her foot in time to the beat of the music that wafted through the intercom from the rec hall. The night-darkened transporter room was a cold and sterile place, and her dreams of romance were as unfulfilled as the costume which waited In her cabin. By the time her night-watch counterpart arrived, the masquerade would be over. Tears brimmed on her lashes as she thought of the emerald gown and matching mask which she had planned to wear tonight.

Closing her eyes, she put her arms out to encircle an imaginary partner, swaying back and forth for a moment and then moving around the console to break into a sweeping waltz. She heard the rustle of a taffeta petticoat as it swirled against her ankles, envisioned the partner in her arms, a raven-haired mystery man dressed in the romantic trappings of a time when men were men...The lieutenant was so involved in her fantasy that she didn’t hear the doors to the transporter room open and close.

Sulu stood just inside the door, transfixed by the sight of the solitary dancer, mesmerized by her graceful movements and the bittersweet expression on her face. His eyes widened behind his mask as he saw the rose which was tucked into the intricate braids of her auburn hair. The waltz ended, and she glided to a stop, expelling a deep sigh as her eyelids fluttered open.

Her startled gasp broke Sulu’s trance, and he moved forward to take her in his arms as the next dance began.

"It was you, wasn’t it?" she whispered as he guided her around the console. "You’re the one who sent the rose."

He nodded, knowing that if he spoke, he would give away his identity. She had wanted a surprise, and that’s what he wanted to give her. Midnight was only moments away now.

"Why?"

Sulu pulled her closer, feeling her heart beat against his chest. They continued around the room, and he smiled, not at all amazed to find that she was so easy to dance with. Somehow he had known she would be.

"It’s lovely," she murmured against his ear when It became apparent that he was not going to respond. "Thank you."

The countdown to midnight began, the ship’s chimes barely audible over the strains of orchestra music.

"Five, four, three, two, one."

Sulu pulled back enough to catch the expression on Drew’s face, aware that his own heart seemed to skip a beat. For an instant, green eyes met dark ones, and then all pretense of dancing faded as he gathered her closer, his mouth covering hers. Her lips were warm and pliant, moving eagerly against his, inviting a deepening of the gesture. As his tongue boldly explored the recesses of her mouth, she molded herself against him, arms encircling his neck. She returned his projected passion, and the kiss continued until they were both breathless and flushed with desire.

"Oh, Hikaru!"

He pulled back in surprise. "You knew it was me?"’ His voice betrayed his disappointment.

"Of course I did. Do you think I would let just anyone kiss me like that?" She reached out to remove his mask, dropping it to the deck before she traced his half-frown with her index finger. Smiling, she met his gaze. "I know it’s been nearly a year, and I guess you’ve forgotten that I was on duty that morning you and O’Neil transported down to Beta Three."

Sulu flushed. He had forgotten! "I wanted to surprise you."

Drew’s emerald eyes sparkled In the dim light as she shook her head and laughed. "But you did!" Her expression changed, sobering. "Oh, Hikaru, you gave me the best surprise of all! Just what I wanted."

The transporter room fell silent except for the lilting strains of orchestra music. It was twenty-four hundred hours aboard the starship Enterprise, and all was quite well indeed.

Sunday , February 3, 2008 08:55

Quote of the Day

"You'll see the horrors of a faraway place,
Meet the architects of law face to face.
See mass murder on a scale you've never seen,
And all the ones who try hard to succeed.
This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside."

Atrocity Exhibition

Joy Division

Friday , February 1, 2008 05:28

Quote of the Day

It was a busy in newsrooms when, in January, 2006, Senate hearings on the confirmation of Judge Samuel Alito to the Supreme Court began on the same day that Mahemet Ali Agca, who had attempted to assassinate the Pope, was released from prison.

On that day, The Exponent, the student newspaper at Purdue University, had a little paste-up problem, resulting in this paragraph appearing in a story on the front page:

"Supreme Court nominee Samuel Alito told senators Monday that good judges don't have an agenda, don't look for partisan outcomes and always "do what the law requires" as the Senate opened hearings on President Bush's choice for the high court. "A judge can't have any agenda. A judge can't have a preferred outcome in any particular case," Alito told the Judiciary Committee in a brief statement in which he made a distinction between judges and attorneys working for clients. His motive for shooting Pope John Paul in the abdomen on May 13, 1981, remains unclear."

Thursday , January 31, 2008 09:19

Quote of the Day

Two nights ago, I had a wonderful dream
I dreamt that I had written the world's most romantic song. When I wrote it, I wept at the beauty, elegance, sincerity and passion of it. Throughout the dream, whenever I allowed somebody to read the lyrics of my song, they started crying, too.
I took my song to a publisher, who wept and signed me up. He said he was going to sing it to his "beloved wife" that very night.
The publisher sent my song to a record company. The record company asked me to record it myself because they felt it would be immoral for anybody else to sing such heartfelt and intense lyrics.
I made the record, and it became a massive, worldwide hit. I was singing my song before enormous crowds, all of whom sobbed every time they heard it. I, of course, cried whenever I performed it.
I was relishing my artistic genius, and my financial success, when I woke up.
As I awoke, I was crying and singing the title/refrain of this beautiful song:
"Come on, baby! Wash me where the poop comes out."

I'm sure that you're all crying, now, too.

Wednesday , March 14, 2007 04:03

Quote of the Day

"The more I age, the more I read and ponder the scriptures, the more I am convinced that good religion is always inclusive....always. It's not without standards, but it is inclusive."

Mike Kaminske, an old friend of mine who is currently the bishop of a Mormon ward.

Tuesday , March 13, 2007 03:40

Quote of the Day

I know war as few other men now living know it, and nothing to me is more revolting. I have long advocated its complete abolition, as its very destructiveness on both friend and foe has rendered it useless as a method of settling international disputes. ~ General Douglas MacArthur

Monday , March 12, 2007 14:20

Quote of the Day

Annabel was, like the writer, of mixed parentage: half-English, half-Dutch, in her case. I remember her features far less distinctly today than I did a few years ago, before I knew Lolita. There are two kinds of visual memory: one when you skillfully recreate an image in the laboratory of your mind, with your eyes open (and then I see Annabel in such general terms as: "honey-colored skin," "think arms," "brown bobbed hair," "long lashes," "big bright mouth"); and the other when you instantly evoke, with shut eyes, on the dark inner side of your eyelids, the objective, absolutely optical replica of a beloved face, a little ghost in natural colors (and this is how I see Lolita).

Let me therefore primly limit myself, in describing Annabel, to saying she was a lovely child a few months my junior. Her parents were old friends of my aunt's, and as stuffy as she. They had rented a villa not far from Hotel Mirana. Bald brown Mr. Leigh and fat, powdered Mrs. Leigh (born Vanessa van Ness). How I loathed them! At first, Annabel and I talked of peripheral affairs. She kept lifting handfuls of fine sand and letting it pour through her fingers. Our brains were turned the way those of intelligent European preadolescents were in our day and set, and I doubt if much individual genius should be assigned to our interest in the plurality of inhabited worlds, competitive tennis, infinity, solipsism and so on. The softness and fragility of baby animals caused us the same intense pain. She wanted to be a nurse in some famished Asiatic country; I wanted to be a famous spy.

All at once we were madly, clumsily, shamelessly, agonizingly in love with each other; hopelessly, I should add, because that frenzy of mutual possession might have been assuaged only by our actually imbibing and assimilating every particle of each other's soul and flesh; but there we were, unable even to mate as slum children would have so easily found an opportunity to do. After one wild attempt we made to meet at night in her garden (of which more later), the only privacy we were allowed was to be out of earshot but not out of sight on the populous part of the plage. There, on the soft sand, a few feet away from our elders, we would sprawl all morning, in a petrified paroxysm of desire, and take advantage of every blessed quirk in space and time to touch each other: her hand, half-hidden in the sand, would creep toward me, its slender brown fingers sleepwalking nearer and nearer; then, her opalescent knee would start on a long cautious journey; sometimes a chance rampart built by younger children granted us sufficient concealment to graze each other's salty lips; these incomplete contacts drove our healthy and inexperienced young bodies to such a state of exasperation that not even the cold blue water, under which we still clawed at each other, could bring relief.

Among some treasures I lost during the wanderings of my adult years, there was a snapshot taken by my aunt which showed Annabel, her parents and the staid, elderly, lame gentleman, a Dr. Cooper, who that same summer courted my aunt, grouped around a table in a sidewalk cafe. Annabel did not come out well, caught as she was in the act of bending over her chocolat glace, and her thin bare shoulders and the parting in her hair were about all that could be identified (as I remember that picture) amid the sunny blur into which her lost loveliness graded; but I, sitting somewhat apart from the rest, came out with a kind of dramatic conspicuousness: a moody, beetle-browed boy in a dark sport shirt and well-tailored white shorts, his legs crossed, sitting in profile, looking away. That photograph was taken on the last day of our fatal summer and just a few minutes before we made our second and final attempt to thwart fate. Under the flimsiest of pretexts (this was our very last chance, and nothing really mattered) we escaped from the cafe to the beach, and found a desolate stretch of sand, and there, in the violet shadow of some red rocks forming a kind of cave, had a brief session of avid caresses, with somebody's lost pair of sunglasses for only witness. I was on my knees, and on the point of possessing my darling, when two bearded bathers, the old man of the sea and his brother, came out of the sea with exclamations of ribald encouragement, and four months later she died of typhus in Corfu.

Lolita

Chapter 3

Vladimir Nabokov

Saturday , March 10, 2007 05:49

Quote of the Day

In such a world of conflict, a world of victims and executioners, it is the job of thinking people, not to be on the side of the executioners. ~ Albert Camus

Friday , March 9, 2007 13:39

Quote of the Day

"The Democrats seem to be basically nicer people, but they have demonstrated time and again that they have the management skills of celery. They're the kind of people who'd stop to help you change a flat, but would somehow manage to set your car on fire. I would be reluctant to entrust them with a Cuisinart, let alone the economy. The Republicans, on the other hand, would know how to fix your tire, but they wouldn't bother to stop because they'd want to be on time for Ugly Pants Night at the country club."

Dave Barry

Thursday , March 8, 2007 13:24

Quote of the Day

Ethics, too, are nothing but reverence for life. This is what gives me the fundamental principle of morality, namely, that good consists in maintaining, promoting, and enhancing life, and that destroying, injuring, and limiting life are evil.

Dr. Albert Schweitzer
Civilization and Ethics, 1949

Wednesday , March 7, 2007 03:41

Quote of the Day

Seen on a message board:

There's no doubt history is in the making.
We may have either the first Black president, the first woman president or the first Mormon president. Why
not kill three birds with one stone, elect Gladys Knight, and call it a day?

Tuesday , March 6, 2007 10:51

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