Missile Strike Target— The Public’s Perception

My exact thoughts on this Syrian missile strike. Read more at alotfromlydia.wordpress.com.

alotfromlydia's avatarA lot from Lydia

CNN has called Donald Trump “presidential” in the wake of his cruise missile attack on Syria. Fareed Zachariah, on CNN’s “New Day” said on Friday: “I think Donald Trump became president of the United States last night, I think this was actually a big moment.”

FOX called the missile strike a “success”, and other FOX headlines read: “Russia Condemns Attack”, and ” A Russian Battle Ship heads Toward Navy Destroyers that Launched Attack”.

How easily manipulated is the press? Very. This missile strike was orchestrated to for theatrics. It was an intentionally ineffectual empty political gesture that left: a cafeteria damaged, a training unit damaged, fueling units damaged, minimal damage to 6 already damaged airplanes. The main airstrip remains intact, (as shown below), and troops were mercifully left uninjured, thanks to receiving advance notice of the attack from Donald Trump.

This reporting of the missile attack is propaganda spoonfed…

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Waterford Greenway: Kilmeadan

These photos are gorgeous! Follow inesemjphotography.com!

inese's avatarMaking memories

Waterford Greenway

There might be some truth in that Carriganore myth about the hidden treasures because the end of the rainbow is right there by the river bank. We leave the rainbow behind and resume our walk to Kilmeadan station.

River Suir makes a sharp bend. The pink froth you see among the trees on the other side of the bend are Magnolias from the Mount Congreve gardens, in some 15 minutes walk from here.

Waterford Greenway

But first we walk through the Magic Wood where Fairies and Leprechauns live happily together 🙂

There is a whole city in the trees with lovely little houses, ladders and bridges. It is well hidden in the summer but now the fairies are in the open, and have to pretend that they are not real, otherwise the passers-by will annoy them with questions. I would advise you to make a wish as you pass by without disturbing…

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Close Encounters of the Arnold Palmer Kind

This is a reblogging of a post about Arnold Palmer. I’m watching the Masters Tournament and sobbing at the tributes.

nananoyz's avatarPraying for Eyebrowz

As I listened to one celebrity after another pay tribute to the recently deceased golfer, Arnold Palmer, yesterday afternoon, I recalled my own brief encounter with this legend of the links.

For Christmas one year I’d purchased club house passes for Studly Doright and my dad to Arnie’s Bay Hill tournament in Orlando, FL. We lived in Melbourne, FL, at the time, so we were only an hour away from the course. I have to confess that when I purchased the tickets a part of me was secretly hoping that I’d get to attend at least one day of the tournament. As it happened I ended up using the passes more than Studly and Daddy did.

Now, I’m not a golfer. I’m the furthest thing from a golfer anyone could possibly imagine. But I grew up watching the great golfers on television with my dad, and Arnold Palmer almost seemed…

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Snapshot #139

I’m trying to finish a project (alright, a nap), when Patches inserted herself into the scenario, insisting that I rise from my comfortable spot and get her a treat. I call this one, “Can You Hear Me Meow?”

Snapshot #138

Another photo from my walk around Lake Ella in Tallahassee. I think a fitting title would be, “A Confederacy of Turtles.”

So Little Light

Read more at redswrap.wordpress.com. Moved me to fresh tears.

Jan Wilberg's avatarRed's Wrap

The only true sunlight came late today. And it lasted only minutes.

I tried to shake off last night’s news but the images of limp, choking babies being hosed down by the adults trying to save their lives stuck with me. The babies were like toys in the news, ornaments for commentary otherwise preoccupied by lies. The babies aren’t lies. They are real.

But they are other people’s babies. It’s important to remember that. It wasn’t our babies who were gassed.

Our babies were shot, mowed down by a man with an assault rifle while they were at school, safe with their teachers.

Last night, we watched as a favorite female news commentator nearly teared up after the film of injured and murdered Syrian children ran.

“She’s really upset,” I said to my husband.

“She has children,” he answered.

Yes, I thought to myself. She has children. Probably around the…

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Snapshot(s) #137a and b

Taken on Monday at Lake Ella in Tallahassee. I call these, “Now You See Me,” and “Now I Think You Don’t.”


Snapshot(s) #136a, b, c, d, and maybe e

I walked around beautiful Lake Ella in Tallahassee yesterday, enjoying the slightly overcast day. All the normal sights were on display: turtles, geese, ducks, and people. Today, though, I saw something I’d never seen. A blue heron came flying across the lake with something in its beak. 

At first I thought the something was a fish or a frog, but when the heron landed I realized it was a baby duck! Let’s call these, “The Circle of Life,” or “Requiem for a Duckling.”





The heron didn’t appreciate an audience while it ate, so he flew away with the duck still clamped in its beak.


Ah, the circle of life. Poor little duck!

Cracks in the Brick Wall: Thoughts on White Fragility, Part Three

This is the dilemma. Read more at redswrap.wordpress.com.

Jan Wilberg's avatarRed's Wrap

I am tempted to use my whiteness as a weapon.

Why? Because I know it would probably work. Why not? Because it’s contrary to my beliefs, undercuts people who aren’t white, and buys into and reinforces white privilege.

I could weaponize my white privilege in a current situation that actually is of great import to me. The powers that be don’t know I’m white but if they did, their responses would be different, more energetic, more conscious and accommodating. If I was in the room when they realized that I’m white, I’d see the shift on their faces. I guarantee it. Being white is worth a dozen lawyers.

Years ago, one of my teenage Nicaraguan sons was in a car accident on the freeway. He and his friends were safe but the owner of the other car, a white man, was pounding on the hood of my son’s car, screaming…

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Snapshot #135 

This one was taken in Apalachicola on Saturday. I call it, “Hi! Biscus….”