Chapter 10

[sarettah]

YEARS passed. The seasons came and went, the short animal lives fled by. A time came when there was no one who remembered the old days before the Rebellion, except Clover, Benjamin, Moses the raven, and a number of the pigs.

Muriel was dead; Bluebell, Jessie, and Pincher were dead. Jones too was dead-he had died in an inebriates' home in another part of the country. Snowball was forgotten. Boxer was forgotten, except by the few who had known him. Clover was an old stout mare now, stiff in the joints and with a tendency to rheumy eyes. She was two years past the retiring age, but in fact no animal had ever actually retired. The talk of setting aside a corner of the pasture for superannuated animals had long since been dropped. Napoleon was now a mature boar of twenty-four stone. Squealer was so fat that he could with difficulty see out of his eyes. Only old Benjamin was much the same as ever, except for being a little greyer about the muzzle, and, since Boxer's death, more morose and taciturn than ever.

There were many more creatures on the farm now, though the increase was not so great as had been expected in earlier years. Many animals had been born to whom the Rebellion was only a dim tradition, passed on by word of mouth, and others had been bought who had never heard mention of such a thing before their arrival. The farm possessed three horses now besides Clover. They were fine upstanding beasts, willing workers and good comrades, but very stupid. None of them proved able to learn the alphabet beyond the letter B. They accepted everything that they were told about the Rebellion and the principles of Animalism, especially from Clover, for whom they had an almost filial respect; but it was doubtful whether they understood very much of it.

The farm was more prosperous now, and better organised: it had even been enlarged by two fields which had been bought from Mr. Pilkington. The windmill had been successfully completed at last, and the farm possessed a threshing machine and a hay elevator of its own, and various new buildings had been added to it. Whymper had bought himself a dogcart. The windmill, however, had not after all been used for generating electrical power. It was used for milling corn, and brought in a handsome money profit. The animals were hard at work building yet another windmill; when that one was finished, so it was said, the dynamos would be installed. But the luxuries of which Snowball had once taught the animals to dream, the stalls with electric light and hot and cold water, and the three-day week, were no longer talked about. Napoleon had denounced such ideas as contrary to the spirit of Animalism. The truest happiness, he said, lay in working hard and living frugally.

Somehow it seemed as though the farm had grown richer without making the animals themselves any richer-except, of course, for the pigs and the dogs. Perhaps this was partly because there were so many pigs and so many dogs. It was not that these creatures did not work, after their fashion. There was, as Squealer was never tired of explaining, endless work in the supervision and organisation of the farm. Much of this work was of a kind that the other animals were too ignorant to understand. For example, Squealer told them that the pigs had to expend enormous labours every day upon mysterious things called "files," "reports," "minutes," and "memoranda." These were large sheets of paper which had to be closely covered with writing, and as soon as they were so covered, they were burnt in the furnace. This was of the highest importance for the welfare of the farm, Squealer said. But still, neither pigs nor dogs produced any food by their own labour; and there were very many of them, and their appetites were always good.

As for the others, their life, so far as they knew, was as it had always been. They were generally hungry, they slept on straw, they drank from the pool, they laboured in the fields; in winter they were troubled by the cold, and in summer by the flies. Sometimes the older ones among them racked their dim memories and tried to determine whether in the early days of the Rebellion, when Jones's expulsion was still recent, things had been better or worse than now. They could not remember. There was nothing with which they could compare their present lives: they had nothing to go upon except Squealer's lists of figures, which invariably demonstrated that everything was getting better and better. The animals found the problem insoluble; in any case, they had little time for speculating on such things now. Only old Benjamin professed to remember every detail of his long life and to know that things never had been, nor ever could be much better or much worse-hunger, hardship, and disappointment being, so he said, the unalterable law of life.

And yet the animals never gave up hope. More, they never lost, even for an instant, their sense of honour and privilege in being members of Animal Farm. They were still the only farm in the whole county-in all England!-owned and operated by animals. Not one of them, not even the youngest, not even the newcomers who had been brought from farms ten or twenty miles away, ever ceased to marvel at that. And when they heard the gun booming and saw the green flag fluttering at the masthead, their hearts swelled with imperishable pride, and the talk turned always towards the old heroic days, the expulsion of Jones, the writing of the Seven Commandments, the great battles in which the human invaders had been defeated. None of the old dreams had been abandoned. The Republic of the Animals which Major had foretold, when the green fields of England should be untrodden by human feet, was still believed in. Some day it was coming: it might not be soon, it might not be with in the lifetime of any animal now living, but still it was coming. Even the tune of Beasts of England was perhaps hummed secretly here and there: at any rate, it was a fact that every animal on the farm knew it, though no one would have dared to sing it aloud. It might be that their lives were hard and that not all of their hopes had been fulfilled; but they were conscious that they were not as other animals. If they went hungry, it was not from feeding tyrannical human beings; if they worked hard, at least they worked for themselves. No creature among them went upon two legs. No creature called any other creature "Master." All animals were equal.

One day in early summer Squealer ordered the sheep to follow him, and led them out to a piece of waste ground at the other end of the farm, which had become overgrown with birch saplings. The sheep spent the whole day there browsing at the leaves under Squealer's supervision. In the evening he returned to the farmhouse himself, but, as it was warm weather, told the sheep to stay where they were. It ended by their remaining there for a whole week, during which time the other animals saw nothing of them. Squealer was with them for the greater part of every day. He was, he said, teaching them to sing a new song, for which privacy was needed.

It was just after the sheep had returned, on a pleasant evening when the animals had finished work and were making their way back to the farm buildings, that the terrified neighing of a horse sounded from the yard. Startled, the animals stopped in their tracks. It was Clover's voice. She neighed again, and all the animals broke into a gallop and rushed into the yard. Then they saw what Clover had seen.

It was a pig walking on his hind legs.

Yes, it was Squealer. A little awkwardly, as though not quite used to supporting his considerable bulk in that position, but with perfect balance, he was strolling across the yard. And a moment later, out from the door of the farmhouse came a long file of pigs, all walking on their hind legs. Some did it better than others, one or two were even a trifle unsteady and looked as though they would have liked the support of a stick, but every one of them made his way right round the yard successfully. And finally there was a tremendous baying of dogs and a shrill crowing from the black cockerel, and out came Napoleon himself, majestically upright, casting haughty glances from side to side, and with his dogs gambolling round him.

He carried a whip in his trotter.

There was a deadly silence. Amazed, terrified, huddling together, the animals watched the long line of pigs march slowly round the yard. It was as though the world had turned upside-down. Then there came a moment when the first shock had worn off and when, in spite of everything-in spite of their terror of the dogs, and of the habit, developed through long years, of never complaining, never criticising, no matter what happened-they might have uttered some word of protest. But just at that moment, as though at a signal, all the sheep burst out into a tremendous bleating of-

"Four legs good, two legs better! Four legs good, two legs better! Four legs good, two legs better!"

It went on for five minutes without stopping. And by the time the sheep had quieted down, the chance to utter any protest had passed, for the pigs had marched back into the farmhouse.

Benjamin felt a nose nuzzling at his shoulder. He looked round. It was Clover. Her old eyes looked dimmer than ever. Without saying anything, she tugged gently at his mane and led him round to the end of the big barn, where the Seven Commandments were written. For a minute or two they stood gazing at the tatted wall with its white lettering.

"My sight is failing," she said finally. "Even when I was young I could not have read what was written there. But it appears to me that that wall looks different. Are the Seven Commandments the same as they used to be, Benjamin?"

For once Benjamin consented to break his rule, and he read out to her what was written on the wall. There was nothing there now except a single Commandment. It ran:

ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL
BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS

After that it did not seem strange when next day the pigs who were supervising the work of the farm all carried whips in their trotters. It did not seem strange to learn that the pigs had bought themselves a wireless set, were arranging to install a telephone, and had taken out subscriptions to John Bull, TitBits, and the Daily Mirror. It did not seem strange when Napoleon was seen strolling in the farmhouse garden with a pipe in his mouth-no, not even when the pigs took Mr. Jones's clothes out of the wardrobes and put them on, Napoleon himself appearing in a black coat, ratcatcher breeches, and leather leggings, while his favourite sow appeared in the watered silk dress which Mrs. Jones had been used to wear on Sundays.

A week later, in the afternoon, a number of dogcarts drove up to the farm. A deputation of neighbouring farmers had been invited to make a tour of inspection. They were shown all over the farm, and expressed great admiration for everything they saw, especially the windmill. The animals were weeding the turnip field. They worked diligently hardly raising their faces from the ground, and not knowing whether to be more frightened of the pigs or of the human visitors.

That evening loud laughter and bursts of singing came from the farmhouse. And suddenly, at the sound of the mingled voices, the animals were stricken with curiosity. What could be happening in there, now that for the first time animals and human beings were meeting on terms of equality? With one accord they began to creep as quietly as possible into the farmhouse garden.

At the gate they paused, half frightened to go on but Clover led the way in. They tiptoed up to the house, and such animals as were tall enough peered in at the dining-room window. There, round the long table, sat half a dozen farmers and half a dozen of the more eminent pigs, Napoleon himself occupying the seat of honour at the head of the table. The pigs appeared completely at ease in their chairs The company had been enjoying a game of cards but had broken off for the moment, evidently in order to drink a toast. A large jug was circulating, and the mugs were being refilled with beer. No one noticed the wondering faces of the animals that gazed in at the window.

Mr. Pilkington, of Foxwood, had stood up, his mug in his hand. In a moment, he said, he would ask the present company to drink a toast. But before doing so, there were a few words that he felt it incumbent upon him to say.

It was a source of great satisfaction to him, he said-and, he was sure, to all others present-to feel that a long period of mistrust and misunderstanding had now come to an end. There had been a time-not that he, or any of the present company, had shared such sentiments-but there had been a time when the respected proprietors of Animal Farm had been regarded, he would not say with hostility, but perhaps with a certain measure of misgiving, by their human neighbours. Unfortunate incidents had occurred, mistaken ideas had been current. It had been felt that the existence of a farm owned and operated by pigs was somehow abnormal and was liable to have an unsettling effect in the neighbourhood. Too many farmers had assumed, without due enquiry, that on such a farm a spirit of licence and indiscipline would prevail. They had been nervous about the effects upon their own animals, or even upon their human employees. But all such doubts were now dispelled. Today he and his friends had visited Animal Farm and inspected every inch of it with their own eyes, and what did they find? Not only the most up-to-date methods, but a discipline and an orderliness which should be an example to all farmers everywhere. He believed that he was right in saying that the lower animals on Animal Farm did more work and received less food than any animals in the county. Indeed, he and his fellow-visitors today had observed many features which they intended to introduce on their own farms immediately.

He would end his remarks, he said, by emphasising once again the friendly feelings that subsisted, and ought to subsist, between Animal Farm and its neighbours. Between pigs and human beings there was not, and there need not be, any clash of interests whatever. Their struggles and their difficulties were one. Was not the labour problem the same everywhere? Here it became apparent that Mr. Pilkington was about to spring some carefully prepared witticism on the company, but for a moment he was too overcome by amusement to be able to utter it. After much choking, during which his various chins turned purple, he managed to get it out: "If you have your lower animals to contend with," he said, "we have our lower classes!" This bon mot set the table in a roar; and Mr. Pilkington once again congratulated the pigs on the low rations, the long working hours, and the general absence of pampering which he had observed on Animal Farm.

And now, he said finally, he would ask the company to rise to their feet and make certain that their glasses were full. "Gentlemen," concluded Mr. Pilkington, "gentlemen, I give you a toast: To the prosperity of Animal Farm!"

There was enthusiastic cheering and stamping of feet. Napoleon was so gratified that he left his place and came round the table to clink his mug against Mr. Pilkington's before emptying it. When the cheering had died down, Napoleon, who had remained on his feet, intimated that he too had a few words to say.

Like all of Napoleon's speeches, it was short and to the point. He too, he said, was happy that the period of misunderstanding was at an end. For a long time there had been rumours-circulated, he had reason to think, by some malignant enemy-that there was something subversive and even revolutionary in the outlook of himself and his colleagues. They had been credited with attempting to stir up rebellion among the animals on neighbouring farms. Nothing could be further from the truth! Their sole wish, now and in the past, was to live at peace and in normal business relations with their neighbours. This farm which he had the honour to control, he added, was a co-operative enterprise. The title-deeds, which were in his own possession, were owned by the pigs jointly.

He did not believe, he said, that any of the old suspicions still lingered, but certain changes had been made recently in the routine of the farm which should have the effect of promoting confidence stiff further. Hitherto the animals on the farm had had a rather foolish custom of addressing one another as "Comrade." This was to be suppressed. There had also been a very strange custom, whose origin was unknown, of marching every Sunday morning past a boar's skull which was nailed to a post in the garden. This, too, would be suppressed, and the skull had already been buried. His visitors might have observed, too, the green flag which flew from the masthead. If so, they would perhaps have noted that the white hoof and horn with which it had previously been marked had now been removed. It would be a plain green flag from now onwards.

He had only one criticism, he said, to make of Mr. Pilkington's excellent and neighbourly speech. Mr. Pilkington had referred throughout to "Animal Farm." He could not of course know-for he, Napoleon, was only now for the first time announcing it-that the name "Animal Farm" had been abolished. Henceforward the farm was to be known as "The Manor Farm"-which, he believed, was its correct and original name.

"Gentlemen," concluded Napoleon, "I will give you the same toast as before, but in a different form. Fill your glasses to the brim. Gentlemen, here is my toast: To the prosperity of The Manor Farm! "

There was the same hearty cheering as before, and the mugs were emptied to the dregs. But as the animals outside gazed at the scene, it seemed to them that some strange thing was happening. What was it that had altered in the faces of the pigs? Clover's old dim eyes flitted from one face to another. Some of them had five chins, some had four, some had three. But what was it that seemed to be melting and changing? Then, the applause having come to an end, the company took up their cards and continued the game that had been interrupted, and the animals crept silently away.

But they had not gone twenty yards when they stopped short. An uproar of voices was coming from the farmhouse. They rushed back and looked through the window again. Yes, a violent quarrel was in progress. There were shoutings, bangings on the table, sharp suspicious glances, furious denials. The source of the trouble appeared to be that Napoleon and Mr. Pilkington had each played an ace of spades simultaneously.

Twelve voices were shouting in anger, and they were all alike. No question, now, what had happened to the faces of the pigs. The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.



(Orwell)

[Toby]

Originally Posted by sarettah

...A time came when there was no one who remembered the old days...

Still harping on the same old bullshit.

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by Toby

Still harping on the same old bullshit.

Not at all. That is not the point. Actually has nothing to do with that at all...lolol.


Knew I should have chopped out paagraphs for the slow readers

[softball]

It was required reading in grade ten, I think. Schoolboy book review stuff.

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by rhetorical

It was required reading in grade ten, I think. Schoolboy book review stuff.

I saw the cartoon version when I was like 9 or 10 and then went and read it. Had to read it agan later to get the full idea.

Still one of my all time favorites.

[Toby]

Originally Posted by sarettah

Not at all. That is not the point. Actually has nothing to do with that at all...lolol.

Like most who went to high school in this country, Animal Farm was mandatory reading and was discussed to death during class daily for several weeks. It's loaded with layer after layer of metaphor.

If you have a specific point to make based on 'Chapter 10' then post it. Don't just assume everyone that reads it will interpret things the same way you did.

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by Toby

Still harping on the same old bullshit.

And just to elucidate a touch more. In animal farm, the old days before the revolution were bad bad bad times, noone would ever want to go back to them. The animals didn't get enough to eat, they were slaughtered when they got old, they were literally worked to death.

Then came the revolution. Snowball led it and promised a brave new world. The animals participated and overthrew Jones (the human).

Then Napolean ousted Snowball, with the aid of his dogs and the sheep who just followed along doing whatever Napolean told them to.

Chaper 10 is the culmination of the whole story.










"here's another clue for you ah-all. The walrus was Pa-all."

Help, I'm a rock.

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by Toby

Like most who went to high school in this country, Animal Farm was mandatory reading and was discussed to death during class daily for several weeks. It's loaded with layer after layer of metaphor.

If you have a specific point to make based on 'Chapter 10' then post it. Don't just assume everyone that reads it will interpret things the same way you did.

You post your way and I'll post my way (and I'll be in dublin afoooooor ye)

[softball]

Originally Posted by sarettah

And just to elucidate a touch more. In animal farm, the old days before the revolution were bad bad bad times, noone would ever want to go back to them. The animals didn't get enough to eat, they were slaughtered when they got old, they were literally worked to death.

Then came the revolution. Snowball led it and promised a brave new world. The animals participated and overthrew Jones (the human).

Then Napolean ousted Snowball, with the aid of his dogs and the sheep who just followed along doing whatever Napolean told them to.

Chaper 10 is the culmination of the whole story.













"here's another clue for you ah-all. The walrus was Pa-all."

Help, I'm a rock.

Wowie Zowie, baby
I'll be true
I don't even care
If your dad's the heat

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by Toby

Like most who went to high school in this country, Animal Farm was mandatory reading and was discussed to death during class daily for several weeks. It's loaded with layer after layer of metaphor.

Actually, it is not layer upon layer of metaphor imho, it is actually a very simple story tat when related to when it was written actually only has one layer of metaphor.


Orwelll was actually quite direct in his political statements.

Also, as most things in school, just cause it was discussed to death doesn't mean anyone learned anything from it or understood it. Most clasroom expeiences merely prepare you to regurgitate whatever nonsense the instructor wants you to answer on the test.

In my school, Animal Farm was never required of me, I think 1984 was required for one class.

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by rhetorical

Wowie Zowie, baby
I'll be true
I don't even care
If your dad's the heat

damn straight.




I bet you're all wondering why I'm here

so am i, so am i

[sarettah]

Well, out for a bit. Just so you all don't think you have run me off or anything...lololol..

Gotta go see the shrink cause

My analyst told me I was right outta my head the way he described it he said I'd be better off dead than alive I didn't listen to his jive I knew all along that he was all wrong I knew that he thought I was crazy but I'm not, oh no................................................ ............Instead of one head, I've got two!

And you know two heads are better than onnnnnnnneeeeeeee

[softball]

Originally Posted by sarettah

damn straight.




I bet you're all wondering why I'm here

so am i, so am i

I wasn't wondering you
got *dirty pictures* for
all of you together! Well, I guess I better go, I see the campus
cop's coming... I better split now. Remember Leon Trotsky!

[Toby]

...and just exactly what is it that you thought was relevant to others here?

[softball]

Originally Posted by Toby

...and just exactly what is it that you thought was relevant to others here?

read between the lines, grasshopper.

[Toby]

Originally Posted by rhetorical

read between the lines, grasshopper.

grasshopper? moi?

[sarettah]

Old is replaced by new which becomes old which is replaced by new which is on and on and on and on and on and on and the seasons they go round and round and the painted ponies goes up and down so all my llifes a circle sunrise and sundown the moon rolls through the night time til the daybreak omes around and pretty soon the pigs look like men or the men look like pigs and you can't tell them apart because the new now look and act like the old and the old becomes the new and the rebirth of the empires are once again replaced by the people who become the empires who are replaced by the people and when I was a kid I promised myself that I would never spank my kids but then I grew older and had kids and I spanked them and my ids told me when I grow up I am never going to spank my kids but then tey grew up and they spanked ther kids and if you do not know you are in the square how can you possibly think outside the square because you can only take action on that which you know so to think outside the square you first must realize there is an outside of the square but once you see the outside of the square you bring it into the square and thus can no longer think outsde the sqare because what was once considered new and dfferent is now old and boring and the status quo is maintained no matter who is in charge because once they are established they become the establishment and thus must yet again be overthrown so new revolutionaries must overthrow those who were revolutionaries but are now the bourgeoise and they will become the bourgeoise and thus will yet again be overthrown by the revolutionaries and you can no longer see the difference between the revolutionary pigs and the bourgeoise men and what goes up must come down spinning wheel got to go round tak about your troubles and you never learn ride a painted pony let the spinning wheel turn did you find a directing sign on the straight and narrow highway would you mind a reflecting sign just let it shine into your mind and show you the colors that are realllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

[softball]

Originally Posted by sarettah

Old is replaced by new which becomes old which is replaced by new which is on and on and on and on and on and on and the seasons they go round and round and the painted ponies goes up and down so all my llifes a circle sunrise and sundown the moon rolls through the night time til the daybreak omes around and pretty soon the pigs look like men or the men look like pigs and you can't tell them apart because the new now look and act like the old and the old becomes the new and the rebirth of the empires are once again replaced by the people who become the empires who are replaced by the people and when I was a kid I promised myself that I would never spank my kids but then I grew older and had kids and I spanked them and my ids told me when I grow up I am never going to spank my kids but then tey grew up and they spanked ther kids and if you do not know you are in the square how can you possibly think outside the square because you can only take action on that which you know so to think outside the square you first must realize there is an outside of the square but once you see the outside of the square you bring it into the square and thus can no longer think outsde the sqare because what was once considered new and dfferent is now old and boring and the status quo is maintained no matter who is in charge because once they are established they become the establishment and thus must yet again be overthrown so new revolutionaries must overthrow those who were revolutionaries but are now the bourgeoise and they will become the bourgeoise and thus will yet again be overthrown by the revolutionaries and you can no longer see the difference between the revolutionary pigs and the bourgeoise men and what goes up must come down spinning wheel got to go round tak about your troubles and you never learn ride a painted pony let the spinning wheel turn did you find a directing sign on the straight and narrow highway would you mind a reflecting sign just let it shine into your mind and show you the colors that are realllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

Fucking old hippy quoting Canadian poetry. Next you will be trotting out Leonard Cohen. LOL

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by rhetorical

Fucking old hippy quoting Canadian poetry. Next you will be trotting out Leonard Cohen. LOL

llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllaer era taht sroloc eht uoy wohs dna dnim ruoy otni enihs ti tel tsuj ngis gnitcelfer a dnim uoy dluow yawhgih worran dna thgiarts eht no ngis gnitcerid a dnif uoy did nrut leehw gninnips eht tel ynop detniap a edir nrael reven uoy dna selbuort ruoy tuoba kat dnuor og ot tog leehw gninnips nwod emoc tsum pu seog tahw dna nem esioegruob eht dna sgip yranoitulover eht neewteb ecnereffid eht ees regnol on nac uoy dna seiranoitulover eht yb nworhtrevo eb niaga tey lliw suht dna esioegruob eht emoceb lliw yeht dna esioegruob eht won era tub seiranoitulover erew ohw esoht worhtrevo tsum seiranoitulover wen os nworhtrevo eb niaga tey tsum suht dna tnemhsilbatse eht emoceb yeht dehsilbatse era yeht ecno esuaceb egrahc ni si ohw rettam on deniatniam si ouq sutats eht dna gnirob dna dlo won si tnereffd dna wen deredisnoc ecno saw tahw esuaceb eraqs eht edstuo kniht regnol on nac suht dna erauqs eht otni ti gnirb uoy erauqs eht fo edistuo eht ees uoy ecno tub erauqs eht fo edistuo na si ereht ezilaer tsum tsrif uoy erauqs eht edistuo kniht ot os wonk uoy hcihw taht no noitca ekat ylno nac uoy esuaceb erauqs eht edistuo kniht ylbissop uoy nac woh erauqs eht ni era uoy wonk ton od uoy fi dna sdik reht deknaps yeht dna pu werg yet neht tub sdik ym knaps ot gniog reven ma I pu worg I nehw em dlot sdi ym dna meht deknaps I dna sdik dah dna redlo werg I neht tub sdik ym knaps reven dluow I taht flesym desimorp I dik a saw I nehw dna elpoep eht yb decalper era ohw seripme eht emoceb ohw elpoep eht yb decalper niaga ecno era seripme eht fo htriber eht dna wen eht semoceb dlo eht dna dlo eht ekil tca dna kool won wen eht esuaceb trapa meht llet t'nac uoy dna sgip ekil kool nem eht ro nem ekil kool sgip eht noos ytterp dna dnuora semo kaerbyad eht lit emit thgin eht hguorht sllor noom eht nwodnus dna esirnus elcric a sefill ym lla os nwod dna pu seog seinop detniap eht dna dnuor dna dnuor og yeht snosaes eht dna no dna no dna no dna no dna no dna no si hcihw wen yb decalper si hcihw dlo semoceb hcihw wen yb decalper si dlO

[softball]

Originally Posted by sarettah

llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllaer era taht sroloc eht uoy wohs dna dnim ruoy otni enihs ti tel tsuj ngis gnitcelfer a dnim uoy dluow yawhgih worran dna thgiarts eht no ngis gnitcerid a dnif uoy did nrut leehw gninnips eht tel ynop detniap a edir nrael reven uoy dna selbuort ruoy tuoba kat dnuor og ot tog leehw gninnips nwod emoc tsum pu seog tahw dna nem esioegruob eht dna sgip yranoitulover eht neewteb ecnereffid eht ees regnol on nac uoy dna seiranoitulover eht yb nworhtrevo eb niaga tey lliw suht dna esioegruob eht emoceb lliw yeht dna esioegruob eht won era tub seiranoitulover erew ohw esoht worhtrevo tsum seiranoitulover wen os nworhtrevo eb niaga tey tsum suht dna tnemhsilbatse eht emoceb yeht dehsilbatse era yeht ecno esuaceb egrahc ni si ohw rettam on deniatniam si ouq sutats eht dna gnirob dna dlo won si tnereffd dna wen deredisnoc ecno saw tahw esuaceb eraqs eht edstuo kniht regnol on nac suht dna erauqs eht otni ti gnirb uoy erauqs eht fo edistuo eht ees uoy ecno tub erauqs eht fo edistuo na si ereht ezilaer tsum tsrif uoy erauqs eht edistuo kniht ot os wonk uoy hcihw taht no noitca ekat ylno nac uoy esuaceb erauqs eht edistuo kniht ylbissop uoy nac woh erauqs eht ni era uoy wonk ton od uoy fi dna sdik reht deknaps yeht dna pu werg yet neht tub sdik ym knaps ot gniog reven ma I pu worg I nehw em dlot sdi ym dna meht deknaps I dna sdik dah dna redlo werg I neht tub sdik ym knaps reven dluow I taht flesym desimorp I dik a saw I nehw dna elpoep eht yb decalper era ohw seripme eht emoceb ohw elpoep eht yb decalper niaga ecno era seripme eht fo htriber eht dna wen eht semoceb dlo eht dna dlo eht ekil tca dna kool won wen eht esuaceb trapa meht llet t'nac uoy dna sgip ekil kool nem eht ro nem ekil kool sgip eht noos ytterp dna dnuora semo kaerbyad eht lit emit thgin eht hguorht sllor noom eht nwodnus dna esirnus elcric a sefill ym lla os nwod dna pu seog seinop detniap eht dna dnuor dna dnuor og yeht snosaes eht dna no dna no dna no dna no dna no dna no si hcihw wen yb decalper si hcihw dlo semoceb hcihw wen yb decalper si dlO

I hear Albert Einstein could read in a mirror as well. Dyslexia is not a handicap.

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by rhetorical

I hear Albert Einstein could read in a mirror as well. Dyslexia is not a handicap.

And that was while only using 10% of his brain Feingold or Feinman or Feinberg, whatever his name was, i thought for sure it was Feingold but then my brain prodded me with a doubt, was cooler though, he liked to hang out at titty bars and he even figured out the secret to getting laid by the dancers

[softball]

Originally Posted by sarettah

And that was while only using 10% of his brain Feingold was cooler though, he liked to hang out at titty bars and he even figured out the secret to getting laid by the dancers

What I think is ironic is you are quoting Canadian poets and I am quoting American poets. Where is Serge? We need some Vysotsky quotes. OK maybe some Dean Reed.

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by rhetorical

What I think is ironic is you are quoting Canadian poets and I am quoting American poets. Where is Serge? We need some Vysotsky quotes. OK maybe some Dean Reed.

I wasn't quoting a poet. I was quoting a song

Actually 3 or 4 or so songs in there amongst my personal ramblings, but they all were the same answer to Toby's question

.

[JoesHO]

Mushrooms?

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by JoesHO

Mushrooms?

Got some?

[gonzo]

Blood Sweat And Tears!!!

[softball]

Originally Posted by sarettah

Got some?

Shrooms grow in my town. My friends and I pioneered harvesting of these mushrooms in 1969. We were fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to actually figure out the right dosage. Which was about five to ten shrooms. We were eating about fifty as we "experimented". Imagine the wreckage.

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by gonzo

Blood Sweat And Tears!!!

Nah, it wasn't that hard

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by rhetorical

Shrooms grow in my town. My friends and I pioneered harvesting of these mushrooms in 1969. We were fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to actually figure out the right dosage. Which was about five to ten shrooms. We were eating about fifty as we "experimented". Imagine the wreckage.

All depends on if they're fresh or dry

I used to do them up in an omelet concoction back in California. Lived next to a big pasture in humboldt county, anytime it rained we went out after and gathered up tons of fresh shrooms

[Hell Puppy]

I'm waiting for the movie.

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by Hell Puppy

I'm waiting for the movie.

Wrong thread. That one's overe there ------>http://www.oprano.com/msgboard/showthread.php?t=58114

[JoesHO]

Originally Posted by Hell Puppy

I'm waiting for the movie.

depending on the shrooms you eat, they will make you feel like you are in your own movie!


P.S. rhetorical and Russ, I ate them once and went to disneyland with two hot strippers from the Olympic garden .......

dried and on a dominoes pizza at the hotel with beer then headed into the park...

It truely was " the happiest place on earth"

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by JoesHO

depending on the shrooms you eat, they will make you feel like you are in your own movie!


P.S. rhetorical and Russ, I ate them once and went to disneyland with two hot strippers from the Olympic garden .......

dried and on a dominoes pizza at the hotel with beer then headed into the park...

It truely was " the happiest place on earth"

My friends tell me that Disneyland is the easiest place to score a buy in all of SoCal.

I personally would not know of course

[sarettah]

You ever notice that a circle has no end? It just keeps going and going and going. Still, it is a whole lot less complex to grab onto then a sphere.


Infinity is such a mind blowing concept. Normal white bread world minds generally cannot grasp it.

Western minds wants everything to be squares because square is a concept that is easy to grasp, clear cut hard edges, nice hard angles, manly stuff.

But circles and spheres have no hard edges, have no clear cut beginning, have no definitive end. They look soft and smooth.

Squares are masculine and easy to grasp and therefore make folk feel secure. No secrets in a square.

circles and spheres are feminine and therefore mysterious and intriguing and scary for most folks to attempt to fathom.

The only time that most folks come even close to grasping the power of a sphere is when they ar looking at tits and ass

[softball]

And mysteriously, Oprano begins and ends with an O. So it is either infinite or a black hole.

"Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former. "
A.Einstein

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by rhetorical

And mysteriously, Oprano begins and ends with an O. So it is either infinite or a black hole.

"Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former. "
A.Einstein

Einstein was right about many things, but he was also wrong about many things. Thus is the life of the theorist. If the universe is infinite, then everything is infinite because everything is part of the universe. Within every part of the whole is represented the whole.

If I take a piece of pie I no longer have a whole pie, but I do have a whole piece of pie

[softball]

Originally Posted by sarettah

Einstein was right about many things, but he was also wrong about many things. Thus is the life of the theorist. If the universe is infinite, then everything is infinite because everything is part of the universe. Within every part of the whole is represented the whole.

If I take a piece of pie I no longer have a whole pie, but I do have a whole piece of pie

oooooooooooouuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by rhetorical

oooooooooooouuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

The sound of a blow job ?????

[softball]

Originally Posted by sarettah

The sound of a blow job ?????

lol. No its the sound of a collective of hippies in a huge, dark cave with one flowing candle chanting om.

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by rhetorical

lol. No its the sound of a collective of hippies in a huge, dark cave with one flowing candle chanting om.

I HATE HIPPIES !!!!

[softball]

Originally Posted by sarettah

I HATE HIPPIES !!!!

You post like one.

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by rhetorical

You post like one.

And just how does a hippie post?



I HATE STEREOTYPES!!!






And you post like a canadian

[softball]

Originally Posted by sarettah

And just how does a hippie post?



I HATE STEREOTYPES!!!







And you post like a canadian

But I don't hate Canadians. You also post like a stereotypical hippy.

[gonzo]

Originally Posted by rhetorical

oooooooooooouuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

AT DAWN THEY SLEEP!

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by rhetorical

But I don't hate Canadians. You also post like a stereotypical hippy.

I would be the most redneck hippy you ever met. lololol.

Let's see. a house, 3 pistols, 2 rifles, a big ol pick em up truck, a car, 2 motorcycles and there is no way I can stand dirty clothes for more than a day or two unless I am down in the woods canoeing or some such. I don't think I would pass the hippy indoctrination exam.

I am well versed in zen though and I don't rally associate that with the hippies. I got into that through surfing and skiing, both very zenny sports.


The only thing most hippies and I have in common would be some musical choices and an afinity for good green weed. The biggest difference between me and hippies is I can afford to buy the music and the weed and I cannot stand to be idle too long, have to be doing something productive most of the time.

Sides, I am tooo young to be a hippy, I turned 18 in '73. The music I identify with from my first days of freedom is Bachman turner and such. harder stuff than most hippies would go for.

I am a freak, but I am not a hippy

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by rhetorical

But I don't hate Canadians. You also post like a stereotypical hippy.

I don't hate canadians either (well, maybe some of the gay french ones). I think Canadians are prtty cool for the most art and I am waiting for the day that they get full citizenship instead of just being one of our protectorates

[softball]

"The biggest difference between me and hippies is I can afford to buy the music and the weed and I cannot stand to be idle too long, have to be doing something productive most of the time. "
Most of the hippies around here could prolly buy and sell both of us. Our second larges cash crop after lumber is marijuana.
Randy Bachman is a local boy.

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by rhetorical

"The biggest difference between me and hippies is I can afford to buy the music and the weed and I cannot stand to be idle too long, have to be doing something productive most of the time. "
Most of the hippies around here could prolly buy and sell both of us. Our second larges cash crop after lumber is marijuana.
Randy Bachman is a local boy.

Then they are no longer hippies, they are now entreprenaurs. The hippis give it away. lolol.


Funny thing back about 15 years ago I think. I was a dead concert and of course all the dead heads are there, hanging out, dancing around the whole bit. Well, we are in our seats and there is a "hippy" guy in the road in front of us and he is yakking with his girlfriend about getting a tshirt. She gets up to go get the shirt and wants money, he reaches into his wallet, pulls out a Visa platinum and hands it to her. It was at that point that I realized that hippydom had changed some

When I lived up in humboldt county, most of the pot growers wre ex bikers selling the pot to the hippies.

[softball]

Originally Posted by sarettah

Then they are no longer hippies, they are now entreprenaurs. The hippis give it away. lolol.


Funny thing back about 15 years ago I think. I was a dead concert and of course all the dead heads are there, hanging out, dancing around the whole bit. Well, we are in our seats and there is a "hippy" guy in the road in front of us and he is yakking with his girlfriend about getting a tshirt. She gets up to go get the shirt and wants money, he reaches into his wallet, pulls out a Visa platinum and hands it to her. It was at that point that I realized that hippydom had changed some

Hippydom didn't change. You never understood it.

"Then they are no longer hippies, they are now entreprenaurs."

Hippies were always entrepreneurs. I would argue they started the current cult of entrepreneuriarship (is this an actual word?). I for one, have always been an entrepreneur one way or another.

"The problem with the French is they have no word for entrepreneur"
George W. Bush

[sarettah]

Originally Posted by rhetorical

Hippydom didn't change. You never understood it.

"Then they are no longer hippies, they are now entreprenaurs."

Hippies were always entrepreneurs. I would argue they started the current cult of entrepreneuriarship (is this an actual word?). I for one, have always been an entrepreneur one way or another.

"The problem with the French is they have no word for entrepreneur"
George W. Bush

Like I said, I am not a hippy. The actual hippy movement was jsut a touch before my time. And yes, I realize it continues in the form of the Yippies and such. So, you are right, I probably did not understand them. To me they were part of the anti war movement on one hand and alternative life stylers on the other.