LAUGH FOR THE DAY
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Posted:Dec 29, 2013 10:58 pm
Last Updated:Jan 2, 2014 10:50 pm 6615 Views
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A Mom visits her for dinner who lives with a girl roommate.
During the course of the meal, his mother couldn't help but notice how pretty his roommate was.She had long been suspicious of a
relationship between the two, and this had only made her more curious....
Over the course of the evening, while watching the two interact, she started to wonder if there was more between him and
his roommate than met the eye.
Reading his mom's thoughts, his volunteered,
“I know what you must be thinking, but I assure you,we are just
roommates."
About a week later, his roommate came to him saying,
“Ever since your mother came to dinner, I've been unable to find the silver plate. You don't suppose she took it, do you?"
He said ,"Well, I doubt it, but I'll email her, just
to be sure." He sat down and wrote :
Dear Mother:
I'm not saying that you ‘did' take the silver plate from my house, I'm not saying that you ‘did not' take the silver plate But the fact
remains that it has been missing ever since you were here for dinner.
Love,
your .
Several days later, he received an email from
his Mother which read:
Dear :
I'm not saying that you ‘do' sleep with your roommate, and
I'm not saying that you ‘do not' sleep with her.
But the fact remains that if she was sleeping in her OWN bed, she
would have found the silver plate by now, under her pillow…
Love,
Mom.
 
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a sweet lesson of patience
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Posted:Dec 29, 2013 10:38 pm
Last Updated:Dec 30, 2013 6:29 pm 6298 Views
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A sweet lesson on patience.
A NYC Taxi driver wrote: I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked..
'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase.
The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her.. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.' 'Oh, you're such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, 'Could you drive through downtown?' 'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly.. 'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice. I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued in a soft voice..'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. 'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now'. We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
'How much do I owe you?' She asked, reaching into her purse. 'Nothing,' I said 'You have to make a living,' she answered. 'There are other passengers,' I responded. Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.She held onto me tightly. 'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.' I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light..
Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.. I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.
What if that woman had gotten an angry driver,or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.
We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one. PLEASE SHARE THIS TOUCHING STORY
have a blessed, abundant, peaceful 2014!
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a must to share..
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Posted:Dec 28, 2013 6:00 pm
Last Updated:Apr 10, 2014 8:18 am 6280 Views
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a must to share to all...
Good that people who have access to FFF blogs n chatroom somehow find solace n comfort here. But for those people who have no one to talk to..this is for them:
some people would say..
If only I shared him my time..
If only I lend him my ear..
he would have been alive.
because that person needs someone to share his feelings of being unloved..bullied.. unwanted..needs affirmation..
you might have cheered him up..
inspire him to move on..
push him up or pull him up..
help him put together his pieces together..
Tandaan: failures and misfortunes they r the best teachers!
un lang!!
Continue inspiring people.. because in our brokenness, we make others whole!
keep on refilling our cups!
Happy reading My sweet FFF friends..
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to refill one's cup
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Posted:Dec 28, 2013 7:12 am
Last Updated:Dec 29, 2013 6:31 am 6245 Views
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share what WE have to others...thoughts, ideas, experiences, love and care. and let us learn from each other..
CONTINUE REFILLING OUR CUPS!
Advance happy new year to all!!
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THINGS TO CONTINUE DOING IN 2014
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Posted:Dec 28, 2013 6:16 am
Last Updated:Jan 10, 2014 11:02 pm 6244 Views
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This post was actually a respond to Kim's NY's resolution.. but was inspired to post it in my blog..
things to continue doing..
less or no meat diet.
.
more veggies fruits n fish...
no too colorful dishes..
exercise...vollleyball, badminton, walk.. lakad.. gapang.. he he he
travel..sa tabi tabi lang
eye one more scholar...pag kaya pa!..me isa na me.
garden...I love flowers n anything blooming.
read more..KAHIT wrapper NG TUYO OR TINAPA!.. 'wag lang wrapper ng lumpia!!
communicate with friends n family more often..bonding bonding lang pag may time!DAPAT MAY TIME!
watch movies I failed to watch..dami! I love action movies!
be with my special someone..ang saya! and let's get cruising together!!
less carbon footprints..love our earth. do not poison her. she,s all we got!
live simply n be happy for others n myself too.
happy hugsss to all my FFf friends..
happy new year!
HOW ABOUT YOU?
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The Farmer and the Donkey..
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Posted:Dec 28, 2013 4:06 am
Last Updated:Apr 10, 2014 8:14 am 5784 Views
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One day a farmer's donkey fell down into a well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. Finally, he decided the animal was old, and the well needed to be covered up anyway; it just wasn't worth it to retrieve the donkey.
He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They all grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well. At first, the donkey realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone's amazement he quieted down.
A few shovel loads later, the farmer finally looked down the well. He was astonished at what he saw. With each shovel of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up.
As the farmer's neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up. Pretty soon, everyone was amazed as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and happily trotted off!
What could be the moral of this story?
People see things differently, at different angles..varied interpretations.
If u r the donkey, how would u feel for the farmer?
If u r the farmer, is ur decision valid?
If u r the neighbors, would u tolerate such acts?
Happy hugs and happy thoughts!
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was bothered by this article..
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Posted:Dec 23, 2013 8:44 am
Last Updated:Dec 24, 2013 4:57 am 5856 Views
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Russia and India: Defenders of Decency, Bogeymen of the Gay Lobby
Russia remains stalwart in its laws that aim to curb the influence of the West's gay-friendly culture on Russian youth. Meanwhile, last week, in a stunning turn of events, India's high court reinstituted a nineteenth-century law against sodomy. On cue, the ligbitist kibitzers are going crazy in such homophile haunts as the New Yorker and the Guardian, expressing total outrage that there should exist, anywhere on the globe, nations that do not think it's normal or appropriate to subsidize and celebrate men sodomizing boys.
I cannot blame Russia, India, or any nation for reacting to what they see in the West with measures that I would ostensibly oppose on principle. Russia's ban on promoting homosexuality to does impinge on free speech. India's ban on sodomy is an intrusion into the sex lives of consenting adults. But we don't live in an ostensible world. We live in a real world, where there are real gay organizations in the West, who are engaging in real machinations to spread their sickness all over the globe.
It's time to admit it, my gay brothers: Our culture is sick
Gay male culture in the United States, Canada, Latin America, and much of Europe is sick. It is literally plagued with disease -- not only HIV (which is rising again), but also syphilis (which has made a comeback). And Michelangelo Signorile, the dowager prince of gay news at the Huffington Post, admitted at long last what gay watchdog groups had been denying for decades upon decades: the chronic, timeless state of the homosexual man is to chase after pubescent boys.
Signorile has been busy defending 39-year-old Dustin Lance Black, the screenwriter who seduced a 19-year-old boy -- and yes, a is a boy, period, even if he is a gold medalist; for heaven's sake, he can't even legally drink alcohol in the U.S. Signorile called the sleazy predation "intergenerational sex" and explained to all the "homophobic" people who might object that in the gay world, it's normal for old men to sodomize boys.
Signorile says this is "nurturing" and educational, kind of like being someone's private tutor, only the tutelage involves lubricant, preparatory enemas, and the tearing of the boy's rectal lining, all in the name of initiation. It's also unsanitary, painful, and likely to interfere with whatever development the boy might have toward eventual sex with women.
Two weeks after Signorile's ode to sleaze, the Daily Mail broke yet another story of a homosexual dad sodomizing a boy and sharing him with his male partner. This time, the boy in question was not a , but nine, and he was Carl Herold's own . So in two weeks we go from "it's legal, so why not?" to "oh, darn, it's illegal; I guess I shouldn't be encouraging this."
Scratch that second quote, since the gay writers at Salon and such will never admit wrongdoing. I assume Michelangelo Signorile would rather die than admit that by glamorizing the act of sodomy between men and boys, he would have anything to do with Carl Herold's rationalizing of his own kind of "nurturing" "intergenerational" sex. Sometimes the people who are plunging down the slippery slope don't see the slippery slope; those of us standing at the top screaming "stop the madness" can see it, but nobody listens to us.
Because part of the gay world's sickness is the diabolical insistence that people are "born" gay, gays like Signorile and Black think of boys as already certified gay flowers waiting to be plucked. Often this comes from their having rewritten their own childhood and adolescence, to convince themselves, as so many vocal gay men do, that they knew they were gay from the time they were five. All of which is nonsense. Read the work of researcher Lisa Diamond. Sexuality is fluid well into our twenties. She focuses on women, probably because she doesn't want to deal with bitchy gay men despising her for playing into the hated "ex-gays'" hands, but the same goes for men. Sexuality is fluid. If you sodomize a boy when he's a , you're imposing your homosexual narrative on him, not awakening something that's inside him waiting to blossom.
But to understand these truths, gay men would have to tune out the cacophony of rhetoric tied to National Coming Out Day, It Gets Better, Gay-Straight Alliances, and all the other civic institutions devoted to convincing the whole West of the lie that people are born gay and teens need to expedite an online profile so the buzzards can circle overhead, looking for fresh meat.
I used to avoid assessing the motives of others at all costs. But I can't help supposing that the myth of people being born gay served a very useful purpose of justifying "intergenerational" sex as some sort of "teachable moment" rather than what it is: selfish, sleazy, old gay men sodomizing boys.
Do I speak as an outsider? Am I a homophobe? Nope -- sorry, GLAAD. I know what the heck I'm talking about, and I suspect you know I know. I was first sodomized at the age of thirteen, and between the ages of thirteen and my twentieth birthday, I would estimate that I was used by at least thirty older men, ranging in age from sixteen to sixty-five. Once I was "broken in," my mind went into a tailspin, and I kept convincing myself that I was the predator, not the old men. I took the fatherly affections as they came, largely because I didn't have a father in my home and I liked having a dad's love, even if it was only fleeting. So I prowled in university libraries, city parks, twenty-four-hour supermarket parking lots, and the sauna at the YMCA. There were men at every turn, willing to be my dad if I would simply give them what they wanted.
This wasn't nurturing. It's never nurturing, Mr. Signorile. By twenty I was a sick human being, like so many people in the gay world, living in the soulless shadows. It would take me another eight years until finally, loosened up with wine, I made love to a female and realized that I'd been wrong and confused about myself, because my mind had been messed up by older men molesting and abusing me.
I say this not to brag or ask for pity, but merely to explain that Signorile's model of "nurturing" intergenerational sex is destructive and sick.
The Big Lie - What are you going to do about it, America?
Gay advocacy groups made sure, for decades, that anybody who even alluded to homosexuals seducing teenage boys would be placed on one of their many pointless blacklists as "homophobes." Yours truly has been repeatedly labeled an "antigay activist" because I wrote articles in the American Thinker discussing the rash of high-profile cases in which older men abused boys, ranging from the of teenage foster sons to the nauseating case of Mark Newton and Peter Truong manufacturing a with an illegal surrogate, smuggling the boy back to Australia, and turning him into a sex slave.
Seemingly in tandem with the new shameless gay zeitgeist, Apple Inc. added to the sickness by unveiling a new phone application that will allow twelve-year-old boys to transmit their location and signal their availability for sex.
I have stopped asking, "Where are the parents?" Half the time, the parents are encouraging it. For instance, it seems the mother of a fourteen-year-old boy encouraged her to have sex with Caleb Laieski, the older activist honored by President Obama at the White House, and a 43-year old homosexual policeman. The parents of Tyler Clementi, who killed himself after a 30-year-old man went into his freshman dormitory and a roommate filmed it, didn't focus their outrage at the gay man who was having sex with a boy who happened to be their . Instead, Clementi's mother appeared in the New York Times blaming herself and her church!
Over the last few years I have pondered the question -- what would have happened had the gay rights movement not made so many mistakes? What if they had focused on building up a functional, healthy gay culture, rather than ignoring the problems under their noses and waging pointless symbolic wars over marriage, not to mention the fool's errand of adoption, which is the wrong thing to propose to a community full of men who sodomize boys?
Back to Russia and India
Perhaps, if the West's gay community had not become so sick, there would be no "anti-gay" law in Russia, and perhaps the judges in India would have been less inclined to uphold the ban on sodomy. We will never know what might have been. We know what is. The West's gay community is sick, and I cannot blame countries outside the West for deciding to take extreme measures.
The gay men who form the bulk of our community are resourceful to the point of deviousness. They have carved holes in stalls between toilets, developed elaborate secret code for wall graffiti, and learned how to lure boys into sex without being caught.
They are not the type to ignore a loophole, and the West's openness about homosexuality has given them loopholes that a train could pass through. Entrusted with the future of their own families and , Russians and Indians may be, in the end, doing the right thing. Here's where the pope's quote really means something: "Who am I to judge?"
December 22, 2013
Why I Cannot Blame Russia and India for Taking on the Gays
By Robert Oscar Lopez
Read more: http://filipinofriendfinder.com=twitterfeed&utm_medium=facebook#.UrhFhI_oH84.facebook#ixzz2oNcoAjgx
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aRe U aStROnG wOman Or a WoMaN oF StreNgTH??
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Posted:Dec 23, 2013 3:21 am
Last Updated:Dec 28, 2013 7:27 am 6204 Views
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Do you rise after a fall or you knock them down because u r strong?
Enjoy the merry season of christmas! Let the great spirit of joy fills the air around you!
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THE IRONY OF CHRISTMAS
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Posted:Dec 22, 2013 11:16 pm
Last Updated:Dec 29, 2013 8:25 am 6935 Views
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No doubt, despite the hard knocks we Filipinos got hit with in 2013, Christmas will still be the happiest time of the year. It will be subdued this year, but we will not let our spirits sink too low. It’s Christmas, and we’re Filipinos, after all.
We Filipinos are flawed in many ways, something all peoples of the world have a share of. But, if we’re anything, we’re a darn tough bunch.
Creator made us pliant, resilient, and adaptable. We go wrong in a lot of ways and things. But we carry on. We let life’s barriers and hurdles slow us down but we don’t let them stop us completely. We bend and we bow. But we don’t break. We’re Filipinos, darn it!
And so we won’t let anything stop us from making hay this Christmas. We won’t let Yolanda, Napoles, Don Mariano bus drivers, Enrile, or Miriam spoil our Christmas. We will drink and be merry – why do you think Christmas always comes with “merry”? – and indulge ourselves. We’ll whip up the usual Yuletide table fare and the beer and the punch and the tooting and greetings and all that Christmas jazz. Heck, it’s Christmas and not to have a good time would be un-Filipino.
Yes, yes, Ergo said in the last column that our Christmas has been stolen, taken away, by spoilsport Yolanda and that this Christmas will be especially gloomy because of the utter devastation wrought by that furious woman of a superstorm.
Ah, but we’re Filipinos, we won’t let disaster get in the way of having fun at Christmas, we love Christmas. As no other people in the world.
We love Christmas so much, we will scrape up our savings and go to the market and buy whatever we can afford to set up a decent Noche Buena. Dang, we will borrow money just so we can buy the beer and Emperador for the boys. And we will have a Christmas hangover that we deserve and we’ve gotten used to over the years and forget if the garbage gets taken out the following morning or the Christmas table got cleaned up on Christmas Eve or Day. That will all be for later. We will have the usual, typical Filipino Christmas.
But will everybody have a good time?
Christmas, while our happiest time of the year, can also be the loneliest time for many people. People who are sick, hungry, homeless, aged, troubled, desperate, frustrated, and most of all, alone. In the midst of all the celebration and all the carousing, many, too many, people are not capable of celebrating and enjoying Christmas. They are on the fringes of society, familyless, friendless. They won’t have a happy Christmas.
This is where life is unfair. For those many people who, for various reasons, don’t have the wherewithal to spend for a memorable Christmas, the season is a lonely and frustrating time. They have no money to pay for a passable Christmas, no friends or family to celebrate it with, and even no place to celebrate it in. “Wherewithal” in this case truly becomes, as a colleague of mine from an earlier incarnation coined, “wherewithoutit.”
For how can anyone celebrate when there’s no money in one’s pocket and there’s no one around to be happy with. And can it be a truly fun Christmas when one’s home is underneath a bridge or within sniffing distance of Payatas?
This is where life becomes not only unfair but cruel.
But, as the good Jesuit in the papal chambers on St. Peter’s Square would tell us, Christmas doesn’t have to be luxe, doesn’t have to be rich, doesn’t have to be a table full of sumptuous fare, doesn’t have to be spanking new clothes, doesn’t have to be bathed in luxury. It only has to be Christmas.
money, after all, can’t buy a happy Christmas.
So it’s ok if we will have to make do with a simple Christmas menu, with clean clothes on the ’s backs, and as long as our loved ones are around. It doesn’t have to be a Christmas tree in the living room, with Christmas presents heaped around it. It doesn’t have to be hamon and hot cocoa on Christmas morning. It’s the spirit that counts.
That may be so for those who can smugly say that. But tell it to the guy and his family under the bridge, with their “candlelit” Christmas underneath the roaring traffic, inhaling exhaust smoke as their Christmas present. Speak to him about the irony of it all.
As I am writing this, an electronic Christmas greeting from a dear friend abroad arrived, with impeccable timing. It says, fittingly: Think of those whose pain and wants are unbearably heavy/Those who are ill/and Those who make decisions that have profound consequences.
***
Happy Christmas to all from ERGO!.. MANILA BULLETIN
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show your badge.!!.
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Posted:Dec 22, 2013 6:34 am
Last Updated:Dec 22, 2013 8:05 pm 6238 Views
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A DEA Agent stopped at a ranch in Texas and talked to an old rancher.
He told the rancher, "I need to inspect your ranch for illegally grown drugs." The rancher said, "okay, but don't go into that field over there...", as he pointed out the location.
The DEA Agent verbally exploded and said, "look mister, I have the authority of the federal government with me!" Reaching into his rear back pocket, the arrogant officer removed his badge and proudly displayed it to the rancher. "See this badge?! This badge means I can go wherever I want... On any land! No questions asked, no answers given! Do you understand old man?!"
The rancher kindly nodded, apologized, and went about his chores.
Moments later the rancher heard loud screams, he looked up and saw the DEA agent running for his life, being chased by the ranchers big Santa Gertrudis Bull...... With every step the bull was gaining ground on the officer, and it was likely that he'd sure enough get gored before he reached safety. The officer was clearly terrified.
The old rancher threw down his tools, ran as fast as he could to the fence, and yelled at the top of his lungs...... "YOUR BADGE! SHOW HIM YOUR BADGE!"
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