Nobody Reports 3-D Unborn
Nobody Reports:
From Luxerylaunches:
For $1200 you can step into the Parkside Hiroo Ladies Clinic (In Japan)for your routine MRI and step out with a 90x60x40mm dimension model of your unborn child – a prenatal memorabilia or what?
Most people remember how awesome it was to see a photo of their unborn child. Now, they can do even better.
That is… IF you have the money and want to fly to Japan just for the picture!
Nobody Profiles a T-REX
Nobody Flashes
As a rule, one is not supposed to post pictures of oneself on the internet which might not be exactly…flattering.
Nobody doesn’t care. This picture was taken after a five-hour drive, and two other museums. By the time I reached “Susie” the T-REX, in the Field Museum of Chicago, NOT having my picture taken next to this wonderful set of teeth was unthinkable. And brushing my hair was the last thing on my mind.
I do see…a resemblance. In fact, I think it would make a good logo for my obvious proclivity and nasty habit of devouring lying politicians. Picture Obama’s face right in front of us..
Yes, my “vacation” in Chicago taught me, that ALL the museums are teaching our young minds, with great gusto that global warming is destroying the planet, submarines look a LOT bigger out of water, dead snakes are about as interesting as live snakes, dolphins love to play with humans, fish are remarkable show-offs, and nobody watches gaggles of running, screaming school kids…ever.
The Chicago mob makes their money off the parking lots, women still suffer tremendously when they walk long distances on dates in high hells, you can stuff an awful lot of money-making stuff on a pier…and rush hour traffic is the same everywhere.
The best looking people I have ever seen..were jogging..right along the rush hour traffic on Lake Shore Drive, no doubt, thinking that someone rich would discover them and put them in their next movie. AND..the most important reason to subscribe to Sirius Radio is that it WILL keep you awake for 24 hours. As long as you can still push the buttons..you can drive…forever. AC/DC is almost as good as a double-latte when it comes to keeping you awake.
And I had a WONDERFUL conversation…with a puffer fish. I think…he will miss me. I’m sure of it.
Thanks Chicago! TRY …to stay classy.
Nobody Updates
Update:
Sorry about the change here…my other template would not let me “review” what I was posting, and so, I had to do something…I’m not sure if changing templates is going to solve the problem but we will see!
If you like the change…say so..if it’s too hard to read because it’s so dark…make a comment and I’ll find another one. WordPress had many to choose from!
Anyway, since it’s getting near my FAVORITE holiday…bear with me…while I try to figure this stuff out.
(Oh, I do need a new picture that’s for sure. )
Nobody Flashes:Rich Cars Vs Poor Cars
Nobody Flashes
No matter what you hear about money…there are more people in the world who have an awful lot of it! And what do they do with their millions? Why buy expensive cars, of course!
Nobody compares what Ferrari is going to do to get into the Guinness Book of Records: They plan to gather the most Ferrari’s in one place, in the UK on September 15th. Their goal is to get 1,000, and so far they have 600 lined up. What does the common man do to get into Guinness? He makes his couch into a go-cart!
And if you think that the rich can’t think of anything to spend their money on…THINK AGAIN! There is the gold wrapped Mercedes-Benz in Dubai, and the gold wrapped Lamborghini Aventador LP700 in Miami! And yes, that’s REAL gold….you know, the gazillion dollars an ounce kind…but…if you don’t have the money for these beauties, remember, there’s always your own ingenuity.
Hubbling the Ultra Deep Neurosis
Nobody Remembers–
The very first “fright” of my life. I was three, and looking up at the stars from the back of my dad’s old Ford. It was not only scary, but it was the start of my true neurotic understanding that I could NEVER be anything in life because I was just a tiny bit of speck of nothing in sight of that massive universe. The vastness of the universe crushed me that night.
I never really got over it. I mean come on…I’m still the NOBODY! Even if Nobody Cares that Nobody Remembers!
BUT…it deosn’t mean that I can’t enjoy sharing this with everyone. If you wondered how we got those cool deep space pictures, this explains it.
Enjoy! Excuse me while I go outside and look up.
Nobody Remembers: Bruce Lee
Nobody Remembers
“Knowing is not enough. Willing is not enough: we must do. —Bruce Lee
Like many young girls growing up all over the world, I usually had a crush on some famous guy when there wasn’t a man in my life. My first big one was Paul McCartney. I always baked a cake for him when it was his birthday, and since it was a day after mine, I got double-dipped in two big chocolate cakes!
Those were the good old days. Now I get ONE carrot cake cupcake, if I’m good. 
But, the smartest and longest crush I ever had was on Bruce Lee. At first, I was attracted to Bruce for his movies of course….but unlike the movies of today, when Bruce Lee beat up ten guys at once, you could believe that the man could actually do it. At the time, I saw every Bruce Lee movie, read
every book, and had the usual Bruce Lee posters on my wall. I wanted to be Bruce Lee, or at least get my life up to some kind of better standard.
Another reason I liked the guy was his grace. I had been a professional dancer at one time, I had just quit my job teaching at Arthur Murray’s (long story) when I noticed this man. How could anyone be so graceful when fighting? Watch any man doing Martial arts and they look clumsy. Crude. Not Bruce…Bruce ‘s body was as graceful as a gazelle in flight. I have yet to see any man look as good when they were fighting. (Being Cha-Cha Campion of Hong Kong might have helped.) 
Bruce not only danced in his body and moves, he danced in his mind. Like any true artist his creativity was endless. I won’t go into the many wonders of Bruce Lee here, but I will tell you, that years later, my grown-up son bought me a framed photograph of Bruce Lee to go in my Japanese decorated front dining room, years after I had forgotten all about the man.
Then I remembered: I used to make my son watch all the Bruce Lee movies with me when he was a kid, and I often wonder if it’s one of the reasons he became a personal trainer.
So, let’s remember Bruce Lee…here’s one of my favorite passages in his own words, and think while you’re reading this if the whole world couldn’t learn something more from Bruce Lee: It was an introduction he gave before he began to teach you his art.
“Make this article relate to yourself because, though it is on JKD, it is primarily concerned with the blossoming of a martial artist not a “Chinese” martial artist or a “Japanese” martial artist. A martial artist is a human being first. Just as nationalities have nothing to do with one’s humanity, so they have nothing to do with the martial arts. Leave your protective shell of isolation and relate directly to what is being said. Return to your senses by ceasing all the intervening intellectual mumbo jumbo. Remember that life is a constant process of relating. Remember too that I seek neither your approval nor to influence you toward my way of thinking. I will be more than satisfied if, as a result of this article, you begin to investigate everything for yourself and cease to uncritically accept prescribed formulas that dictate “this is this” and “that is that. “
And Now, a Word From Our Sponcer….
Nobody’s Notes:
Nobody Thinks the world lost one of God’s most beloved works last Good Friday: Thomas Kinkade. Anyone who has ever seen one of his paintings has been touched. He was probably America’s most beloved painter. That man was touched by God…no doubt about it.
I was at the art museum here in St. Louis last week, and I remember staring at a whole room of what I call, “modern crap” art. One such picture took up a whole wall and was entirely…blue. That’s it. No doubt some rich person would have paid millions for it. A six-grader could have painted it.
If just one of Thomas’s pictures had been in that room, I wouldn’t have even glanced at those, as we here in middle earth call them: rip-offs. But, you won’t find Thomas in any hotsy tosty museum, which shows you how far the ‘rich’ have genetically improved their IQ, and how morally lost many of them seem to be.
Nobody Thinks the fact that this “Warrior of Light” as he was known, Good Christian as he was….the fact that he died on Good Friday was no mere coincidence. His incredible talent, is beloved by the “meek” the “humble’ and the “rightous”…and yes, we are all still here. 
The man, had the gift of an angel. And although I think God took him too soon…I think Easter is a fine time to reflect on the gracious light he gave to us all while he was here, and reflect of the real meaning of Easter.
Thomas once said:
“I share something in common with Norman Rockwell and, for that matter, with Walt Disney,” he said. “In that I really like to make people happy.”
Boy, did he.
Hope everyone has a great Holiday with their families….and Happy Easter! 
Nobody Wants to Be a Blue Angel Pilot
Nobody Flashes
If I could reincarnate…I’d come back in my next life, as a Blue Angel Pilot with perfect vision, and as strong stomach.
ENJOY! You paid for it!
Monopoly or Mobopoly?
Nobody’s Opinion
“It has been demonstrated again and again, from Imperial Rome to Weimar Germany, that epidemic greed is a symptom not of reveling in present triumphs but of a fear that the game is winding down.”–Laurence Shames(1951) “Wall Street Greed is Fueled by Fear” 15 June 1989
Monopoly. Remember that game? I do. I hated it when I was a kid. It was long, it was boring, and my brother always won…every single time. And here I was too many years later…losing again. 
Last Friday night it was a night of, “Let’s get away from the Television shall we?” for the family. We have been playing Monopoly on the Holidays gatherings and I always lose. I was becoming the laughing stock of the family. So…Friday night, I was determined to win. To war. To kill. I was going to be ruthless, something that is completely against my character as a human being. I watched the other player’s strategies, took the best from each player, and went for the throat.
And I was..ruthless. Not only was I the only player who had any buildings on their properties, I had all the money. ALL the $500 dollars were stacked high in my slots, after I had emptied out the bank with all my winnings. I had all the railroads, all the utilities, just the right properties, and every time any player landed on my property, it cost them over $1,000. I had hotels on every piece I owned.
As I watched the faces of my family, members that I have watched time and again…winning, I could see the surprise, the depression, the hopelessness drain from their faces. It wasn’t just a game anymore. I was winning. I was ecstatic, I wanted it all. I wanted to “do it again.”
Now, I’m no psychologist, but there is a theory that to “win” at anything, you must plan, strategize, and show no mercy. Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Rockefeller…politicians… they all play that game. 
And winning is the best feeling in the world. Why had I always never tried to win? Was it because I didn’t want to hurt others feelings? That was part of it. Somehow the Christian upbringing came into it. I didn’t like to make people feel bad. I wanted them to like me.
But, I did notice, that unlike when I was a kid, now, I really didn’t care that the other players felt bad … After all…it’s a game. I told myself.
Exactly. It’s the game. And I thought…is this how it feels to grab the millions on Wall Street?
Whoa.
So, where did this game that everyone has played all over the world come from?
History reports that Charles B. Darrow of Germantown, Pennsylvania, showed the game to the executives of Parker Brothers, during the depression of 1934. It was very similar to one patented in 1904 by Lizzie J. Maggie, a Quaker woman from Virginia. The game was called, The Landlord’s Game, and was based on the philosophy that the renting of land and real estate produced an unearned increase in land values that profited a few individuals (landlords) rather than the majority of the people (tenants). It was intended to illustrate the negative aspects of concentrating land in private monopolies.
Former Wall Streeter Derk Solko explains, “Monopoly has you grinding your opponents into dust. It’s a very negative experience. It’s all about cackling when your opponent lands on your space and you get to take all their money.” 
And isn’t that what the world has witness these last few years? The bankers (with the help of our politicians) went wild, lost trillions, and the whole world collapsed. They did not go to jail, and they passed GO so many times they had to close hundreds of banks just to keep up.
Or was this a planned collapsed?
The problem is, the rich will never give it back. He’s sitting on Boardwalk with three hotels. It will be the other players on the board that will be placing the money in the pot.
Because of this tremendous greed that we have witnessed…there is a big push to get rid of capitalism, but it’s not capitalism that is bad, it’s the monopolies formed by governments with their hands in the pockets of multinational companies, some of whom have more money than most countries, that kicks us all off the board. 
Nobody Thinks that there is definelty a well planned global monopoly strategy.
The rest of us want the monopolies of global multinational companies to be broken up and allow more competition, and have us all get a piece of the pie that way. But that’s not part of the plan. Like in Monopoly, once you hold the most property, you almost always win.
Nobody Thinks that the sheer joy of winning and smashing your competition must be addicting. Heck, if I can get so ‘high’ off a simple game of Monoploy, what kind of “high” do people like George Soros get? Like synapses in your brain being formed to desire cocaine, the same desire to devour your competition to a pulp without caring a hoot about how many lives it destroys, might have started with that feeling that you got as a child winning Monopoly.
I’m not so sure it was a good thing that I never took the game seriously. If Monopoly was invented to teach children about the horrible effects of what can happen when one person has all the control to take all your money, it didn’t really do a very good job. Instead we got a lot of people addicted to winning at all costs, and then smashing everything else around them.
In the United States, men running monopolies have broken the bank of America….just like I did, and I can bet you, every man guilty of that, Corzine, Bernanke, the Goldman Sacks, Barney Franks…—they all feel like they just won a game of Monopoly. Hoo-rah. It’s not about caring about the world, it’s about winning the game.
And the game is still on: Mobopoly. Pick your pieces, hold onto your money… and roll.
Do it NOW….
Nobody Cares
To my readers:
I haven’t really missed too many days since I’ve been writing, have I? But today…I just couldn’t muster myself to talk about Sheila Jackson, or any of the news. I mention her name because she was saying that the ‘nose’ is a delicate bone and you can break it real easy. Really absurd. And she resides in Congress! A woman who wouldn’t know a broken nose if she saw one.
Sometime early this morning, I was outside raking up dead leaves from underneath my gigantic bushes, when Alex, a 14-year-old neighbor boy that I know very well, was walking by and told me that his grandmother had died. Now, grandmothers die all the time, but this lady was not exactly old. She was in fact, a wee bit younger than me. I had known her for a long, long time, because our boys grew up together.
These last few years were very rough on her: All three of her boys gave her trouble. The youngest one she lost one night, downtown St. Louis several years ago when a black man at a stop light pull out a gun and shot him in the face. He died instantly. (He was white..funny..Obama said nothing.)
At the same time that happened, Sue (her name) was raising her oldest child’s son because her son and his girlfriend just didn’t want the responsibility and cost of Alex. When Sue got laid off as a teacher, it was extremely hard on the family because she was making the most money in the family. Her husband was a hairdresser and business has been very slow. Still they became Alex’s parents and Alex was loved and seemed to except all the messed up things happening in his life with a shrug.
Sad…She evidently died of a blood clot in her lung.
I was thinking today, how I had meant to go down to visit her…bring her some cheer after she lost her job, but…I just never did. She was upset because the school that she taught at wanted to get rid of all the white teachers…because the schools is 70 percent black. They wanted black teachers for the black kids. Reverse prejudice…I’d guess you’d call it.
Being as she was a teacher, we had completely different views on most things, but she was a very sweet lady and trying her best to raise Alex and keep her other sons out of trouble. They got into drugs in high school, and never got off.
Every day there was never enough time, and I should have made time. Too many times we say, ” Oh…I need to call so and so” and we just go about our lives and then if something’s happens, you know you will never get the chance to see that person, or hear their laugh ever again. This is the second time in my life that I have done this, and it’s going to be the last.
After Alex had told me that “grandma” had died, he said his mother was really upset. Jesus. If his real ‘mother’ had not abandoned him to the grandmother, maybe the grandmother would have had a lot less stress.
Well you know, we all have these things happen in our lives, it’s just disconcerting, and I guess I’m just in a small state of “it’s a full moon” and the wolves are howling.
So, I just didn’t feel like even giving a damn about the state of affairs in the country right now. Tomorrow I promise to get back on my usual track.
And…really…to all that read this…thanks for listening, and go call that person you’ve been meaning to say hello too…Take it from me, you’ll regret it if you don’t.
Nobody Cares About Davy Jones
Nobody Cares
Davy Jones of the Monkees died today. Somewhere in my basement I have a few of their albums. Really…I always felt sorry for these guys, because even though the songs they put out were always kinda …bubble gum teenage marshmallow kinds of stuff..they were at least fun and singalongable. Those guys were relentlessly attacked by just about everybody. And they remained pretty nice guys through it all.
I’m only posting this because I wanted to show everyone…see that drum set in the video? That’s a silver- sparkle Ludwig. (I know..JOYANNA…NOBODY CARES!) That was my first drum set and I still have it, and I got mine long before the Micky. Here I am in my first band playing in the BLUE BULL LOUNGE in Kansas City. I won’t tell you how long ago this was taken, but let’s just say, if you’re a musician, you can just look at the speakers and guess.
I’ve been offered a lot of money for that set. I bought mine at the very famous Frank’s Drum Shop in Chicago…and I was told that Louie Bellson used to give lessons on it when he worked at Frank’s.
Also notice that Peter Tork, the keyboard player…is not doing what he should be doing in this video..where he plays his solo and it’s just funny! Micky Dolenz is barely hitting the drums. Of course they were lip synching– but it’s just really nutty that they left it in.
I always thought as people, these guys were very polite, and nobody liked hearing the news today that Davy Jones died…Nobody really Cares…but really, at 66— he was much too young.
I might just go sneak a look at my old albums…and put a few on..and yes, I still have my old record players. ARE you kidding?
(FYI..that was a poloroid…another clue)
And Now, A Word From Our Wonderful Sponcer….
Nobody Flashes
Nobody could watch this and NOT want to share it…unless of course, you are a Navy Seal under fire somewhere in Libya. Not only is this too cute…the women talking are typical…mothers.
Enjoy!
The Impossible Pattern Has a Name
Nobody’s Opinion
In the movie Rain Man, Dustin Hoffman plays a autistic savant. In one scene, a box of toothpicks is spilled on the floor, and in just a few seconds, Ray (Dustin’s character) knows the exact amount that are on the floor. He see patterns where others do not. 
A dear friend of mine got me to thinking about “patterns” ..and I was wondering: maybe we could try to apply this human ability of seeing patterns to why some people “see” a God, and others do not.
There are patterns in nature, all around us. The embryo of a fetus, resembles the embryo of a star. Music is very mathematical. The spiral patterns of seashells resembles a hurricane. 
So, Nobody Suggests that the people that recognize God, see the patterns. People that don’t…just don’t see it. They don’t see God anywhere, therefore, he doesn’t exist. They explain the resemblances to being an evolutionary process, without any cause. They see the patterns as merely coincidences.
But there are coincidences, and there are synchronicities. Synchronicities are not the same as coincidences. For instance, Nobody Thinks about the mathematical impossibilities of certain events, which are mistaken for coincidences. 
Nothing can explain some things. Nothing. (Men having nipples for one.)
When I posted that video of the little bird falling down on Josh Williams guitar, (see a few posts back) most everyone who sees that video..without giving it a second thought…just got a laugh. Well, that event happens all the time, right?
Nope. Ask anyone who has been around birds. Wild birds do NOT sit patiently on the back of guitars and get petted and even sing along. They fly away. You can train birds that have been born in captivity to stand on your hand, even give them commands, but it takes a long time.
Birds by nature, don’t sit and sing on guitars..I had this happen to me once:
One of my dearest friends in high school was a girl named Shelly. After high school, I lost all contact with everyone, but not Shelly. Her parents divorced and she moved with her mother to Los Angeles.
So we wrote letters. For years, and years I would go and visit her in California, and she would come back to St. Louis to see her dad. I could always count on her to be there for me. She was smart, and funny, and looked like a movie star at times. 
Then…one very sunny summer day, I walked outside my house, and my beloved very healthy crabapple tree had split in two. There had been no storm. There was no reason at all for it, and since I’m a big tree lover I got very upset about it. An hour later, I got a call from Shelly’s brother in California telling me that a few hours ago, Shelly went into an epileptic fit, and they found a brain tumor…she had only months to live. Now…did these two very unrelated incidences have a connection? Many would say…nope.
Shelly didn’t exactly have the best life—she got into drugs, prostitution, and later married and divorced, so when she came down with a brain tumor in her late thirties, I was devastated.
She kept her usual sunny attitude throughout the whole thing.
When Shelly came back to St. Louis to die, I got to spend some time with her…and when she was on her deathbed, I told her how beautiful she was, and I said, “Shelly…send me a sign, okay? Send me a sign.” She smiled, and looked at me..but I’m not sure that she heard me.
The two ladies taking my orders were fascinated by the story of my friend, and then, one of them just started…screaming.
“Oh my god…it’s a bird!”
Sure enough, they had left the back door of the store open, and in flew a bird from all the way to the front of the store.
It wasn’t just any bird. It was a bright red Cardinal. 
While these two women were panicking, I went over and saw the bird was on the floor. I put my hand down and it …hopped right up into my hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do–like I was its best friend.
“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” I said..”Look! Isn’t he beautiful? It’s a cardinal!”
I held the bird in my open palm now…and the ladies gathered around me..believe it or not still scared of it. So, after about ten minutes of talking to it, and trying to calm THEM down.. I said, ” Well, I’m going to take it out back.”
That bird stayed in my hand as I walked out the back door, which was not exactly a short walk.
Outside there was a huge lawn of grass with just one tree. I didn’t want to put in down on the ground for fear of cats. So I went up to the lowest branch of the tree, and held it up trying to get it to hop off… and…the darn bird would not get off my hand.
I thought this was just too strange. I could tell it wasn’t “shocked.” I’ve had parakeets my whole life, so birds are no stranger to me. By this time I started talking to it.
I tried putting him on the grass. By this time, a good thirty minutes had passed and my mother was waiting for me in the car with the dogs. I pushed the bird onto the grass, and it was still standing there looking at me as I walked around the store to the parking lot. I must admit, I thought about taking it home.
I told my mother about the incident, and got worried. What if that bird did not fly away? So, I went back to the spot where I had left it…it was gone.
At Shelly funeral the next day, there, at her head was my big beautiful bouquet of red carnations. In the mist of about fifty bouquets, the flower ladies had done me proud. It was perfect.
Now..I know this sounds simplistic. But the odds of a red bird flying into a store and getting on the palm of my hand and staying there, while I was ordering flowers for my friend, are about 10 trillion to one.
So, what in nature could there possible be that would prove to the living that some form of life goes on after death? Was that from a “God?” Or was that, which was too mathematically impossible— just a coincidence?
The question of a higher power that cannot be seen has been on the minds of philosophers since man began–still the earth is filled with more people that see the patterns of “god” then ones that do not.
You don’t have to be a savant to recognize the “patterns” of god. In fact, in “Philosophy for Dummies” the author Tom Morris, whose book proves to you that he knows just about as much as the search for god, through our brightest minds in history, makes up his own mind…
At the end of the book, he presents all the great mind’s contemplations, and comes to his own conclusion from a pattern he sees in his own daughter. A sign. And he presents this quote:
If a tree falls in a forest and there is no one around to hear it, does it make a sound?
Evolution are patterns of God. Just a small part of God’s many trees…God’s tree fall in the forest every day…but some just don’t hear them.
Some of history’s most intelligent men believed in God: Einstein, Edison…and even Darwin. Our eyes limit what we can see: Nobody can see God..but if no one is around to hear him, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist does it?
Nobody Thinks he exists in the synchronicities all around us…all you have to do is…see the patterns…The Rain Man knows…they are there.
Nobody’s Perfect: Captain Schettino VS ‘MOM’
Nobody’s Perfect:
We have two individuals that abandoned their duties this week: Captain Francesco Schettino of the Love Italian Boat: Carnival Titanic, and a lady whose name is only, “mom'” who abandoned her kids to go hide in a couple of bushes while she went inside McDonalds to sit in a warm room and eat.
Let’s take the Captain first, as he is being held for murder. 
According to the Coast Guard, the whole population of Italy, and certainly James Cameron, Francesco Schettino is a cad, a coward, and pretty much has a deep psychological problem with trying to impress the locals by not looking at his very expensive radar equipment, thereby crashing into a reef, and tearing a deep hole in his 10 story high luxury multimillion dollar cruise boat. One can only imagine what kind of damage the Captain would have done with a good iceberg.
And to do it during dinner, is an extra crime.
The Captain got off the boat pretty quick, claiming he was THROWN into the lifeboat… and even though the Coast Guard ORDERED him to get back on that ship he said, “No way! I’m not going to die!”
Okay, he said: ‘You climb on that ladder and go on board the ship’, but Schettino replies: ‘I’m in a lifeboat… I am not going anywhere’.
Spoken like a true Love Boat Captain. Due to his severe lack of concern, some of the missing 29 people are probably never going to be found. The dead are still…dead. 
Then, on the other hand, we a have a homeless mom who decided to leave her kids outside hiding in a bush, in 40 degree weather, while she had a nice hamburger inside McDonalds. 
Usually when a mother leaves her kids abandoned it means she hoping somebody picks them up, because she really didn’t want to take care of them anymore. (But let’s be real: there aren’t many Catholic Churches anymore to leave them to. If your homeless…odds are, there is a McDonalds right around the corner from you.)
Instead she caught a break: another man who had once been homeless called the police, and now she is getting three square meals a day, along with free TV., a college education, and many more wonderful things provided by our lovely prison system. And she doesn’t have to take care of pesky kids anymore. 
Who knows what will happen to the kids? Her excuse was: she was drunk.
The Captain’s excuse? He doesn’t have one, but insists he saved thousands of lives by actually steering that close, so that most of them could get ashore themselves, therefore he didn’t even HAVE to get out of that lifeboat, he’d taken care of the situation. This was after he robbed the safe of course to save all the precious jewels of the clients.
If he ever gets out of prison, Francisco has real possibilities as a politician.
Who won this contest of being so imperfect that you can’t think straight? MOM. The prisons in America are much nicer than the ones in Italy. The Captain’s new vessel, has no life boats to speak of.
Let’s hope he’s not in love, but maybe the two could hook up….they share a common denominator, called: stupidity.
About
I am a nobody. If the different classes of America were color-coded, I would be in the yucky brown, one rung up from the bottom. I grew up in Naples, Florida and live near the Mississippi River now with my husband and two dogs. I am part of the slowly disappearing middle-class. I was a musician most of my life: drummer/singer/keyboards—but I retired before the plastic surgery flu hit. I have no degrees, which could be a good thing…depending on how you view our educational system. I do have three patents…but that really doesn’t make me a somebody. The one thing that is constant in my life is my OPINIONS, which i have more than perhaps even Carl Sagan could have imagined…mostly political. (yes…my ancestors were crabby buggers)
Hopefully other nobody’s will put their opinions on my site. But, if you happen to be a somebody, you’re more than welcomed to help out.
It’s my Nobody Opinion that Nobody’s Perfect, and Nobody Cares, that Nobody Knows why Nobody Wins, and when that happens, Nobody Wonders, why Nobody Flashes, why Nobody’s Fooled, but then Nobody remembers that Nobody ALWAYS Reports the truth.
You can email me at joyanna_adams@yahoo.com
Joyanna Adams
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