Funny, Interesting, Unusual English Words -- Like Sardoodledom

Yes. I've not seen Jurrasic Park though.
Ghandi -- A British Subject From India who promoted The American Dream, first in South African and later in India

Mom wants me to watch Ghandi and a movie about Charlie Chaplin both of which were made by Attenborough and because this year I am in a world history class. I have heard of Ghandi, the man from India who promoted the American Dream, which is an idea popularized in the 1930's by an author whose name I don't remember. The Dream is; All men are created equal. Thomas Jefferson coined the phrase in the Declaration of Independence, but he stole the idea from John Locke, an English philosopher. Later, Abraham Lincoln solidified the idea in the Gettysburg Address. Martin Luther King, Jr used the idea in his famous Dream Speech.


Ghandi, Jefferson, King, Lincoln, and Locke form the Pentagon of the American Dream, which is really and English or British Dream. And now that I’m thinking about it, I know that the American History textbook that I will use next year promotes the idea that the American Dream began in the Bible. I don’t remember the verse, but I think the Bible promotes the idea that all men are equal before God. A verse in Leviticus suggests the idea that I should not fear the rich man nor pity the poor man.

Most of the men I know who are Gramps's age went to Vietnam. According to Gramps, even Ho Chi Minh used the American Dream, All Men are Created Equal, in the Vietnamese Declaration of Idependence.
 
@Ghid, My first husband was a sweet, gentle, innocent soul. His major characteristic was honesty: he could not bear a dishonesty: it always surprised him,and he always wanted to squelch it. Further, he was always amazed that someone would have the audacity to lie. He had to get used to lies, however, because he was a grocer, and things happened in his business that he had to deal with.

Some of his favorite movies were those old ones made by Laurel and Hardy. Looking back, he kind of reminds me of the innocence of those two. The difference, however, was that Laurel and Hardy came across to me as having innocence that was most often unintelligent in their shows. Unintelligent -- my husband was not.

But my first husband had a strong sense of comedy, of humor. We lived in Minnesota, where it was either very, very cold or very, very hot. One hot summer day, he saw a teenage girl stealing popsicles by sticking them in the waste band of her shorts. He called out a friendly "Hello" to her and walked up. He engaged her in talk about her school, her grades, and school activities. They chatted awhile, as he noted that the top of her shorts were turning all kinds of colors, and she began to shiver. He asked her, "Do you want to go call your parents?" She did. They were very embarrassed and took custody of her.

I can just imagine him through this. He was very good-looking, had a great smile, and his eyes bluer than the sky. Think of Crocodile Hunter, Steve Irwin. Give him light brown, curly hair, and you've got him. (Hee-hee!)

But life goes on. I loved that man, still love his memory, but I love my present husband of 27 years. What a life I've been given! Two great husbands. Incredible.

Mostly I tell the truth. Especially on Sundays with Mom I tell the truth, but in one particular case I really told the truth.

I had a friend, more like a playmate for two days. She wanted to eat with us, which she did. She wanted to sleep over, which Mom allowed. When Mom insisted that she should go home, she told me that her father was molesting her. I told Mom. She called the police. I never saw my friend again, but I did see her mother, who caught me by the arm while I was running. She held me and said, "You little B-word. You're going to be shipped back to Africa where you belong." I'm not really black, but in the summer I get a really dark tan, so people make that mistake. I was so scared that I peed in my pants. I went crying home to my mother. I never saw the mother again. We don't know what happened to the father.
 
I think having got so far off topic I'll try to do a words again.

I've managed to create these and many will have been affected by them so here we go how's about a :

dangling pointer

A pointer in computing points to a particular bit of memory. A dangling one can be pointing anywhere.
 
Thanks for that. I don't think I was ever destined for a partner and I think you've probably read that my only brief experience was an affair with someone who had a boyfriend in prison. My thought's tend to focus on how I lusted for her and (as was the case, not that we got together but really fell for someone who shared my interest in folk music) and can debate the term "love" with myself. I think in the second case I did get as far as knowing her at least to know she'd not had an easy life and I liked her fondness for animals). One of her complaints about me was that she wished she could change my "naivety". Also, I don't think she liked that even at say 5" 2" she could comfortably beat me at arm wrestling - conversely I found her strength an attraction. I think she was looking for a strong "man of the world" that I wasn't. Also, we didn't share the same faith and I don't think I'd ever again attempt to go with someone who was not Christian - I think it can only lead to disaster.

It's probably 15 years on but me ready (also in view of my later struggles with drink), at 53, I'd say there's no way I'd be capable of a relationship. Perhaps fortunately,. I don't yearn for one either.
Well, Boldardy, what can I say....
Marriage. to me, to the right person, is such a blessing that I can't help but as you obviously already know, it takes complete commitment and lots of work. Bluntly, I loved being a single adult during the 10 years that I was, and it was very hard for me to give that up, although I had responsibility for my two children -- which was mainly great fun but sometimes hard. But through these marriage and my single time, every ounce of reading, learning, and changing was well worth the wait for me to have what i do now.

This is what I pray for you: a happy life of G-d's choosing, whether single or married, with loads of friends who are godly and supportive. :)
 
Mostly I tell the truth. Especially on Sundays with Mom I tell the truth, but in one particular case I really told the truth.

I had a friend, more like a playmate for two days. She wanted to eat with us, which she did. She wanted to sleep over, which Mom allowed. When Mom insisted that she should go home, she told me that her father was molesting her. I told Mom. She called the police. I never saw my friend again, but I did see her mother, who caught me by the arm while I was running. She held me and said, "You little B-word. You're going to be shipped back to Africa where you belong." I'm not really black, but in the summer I get a really dark tan, so people make that mistake. I was so scared that I peed in my pants. I went crying home to my mother. I never saw the mother again. We don't know what happened to the father.
OH! Honey! How hard that must have been to tell! You SO did the RIGHT thing!!! I am so PROUD OF YOU! G-D BLESS YOU! I wish all people were as gutsy as you are!

I know that what they did afterward to you was hard on you, but bless you, you did it right!

A little aside: on a bus in St. Louis, some people were talking trash about black people, and the lady near me thought they were talking about me, because I was highly irritated and moved away from them. As i was getting off the bus, the lady said something to me, that i can't remember now, but she thought I was way more black than I am. I smiled and thanked her, then got off the bus. Love it! :)
 
I think having got so far off topic I'll try to do a words again.

I've managed to create these and many will have been affected by them so here we go how's about a :

dangling pointer

A pointer in computing points to a particular bit of memory. A dangling one can be pointing anywhere.
Waaallll, “The time has come," the walrus said, "to talk of many things: Of shoes and ships - and sealing wax - of cabbages and kings” ― Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass

:D
 
OH! Honey! How hard that must have been to tell! You SO did the RIGHT thing!!! I am so PROUD OF YOU! G-D BLESS YOU! I wish all people were as gutsy as you are!

I know that what they did afterward to you was hard on you, but bless you, you did it right!

A little aside: on a bus in St. Louis, some people were talking trash about black people, and the lady near me thought they were talking about me, because I was highly irritated and moved away from them. As i was getting off the bus, the lady said something to me, that i can't remember now, but she thought I was way more black than I am. I smiled and thanked her, then got off the bus. Love it! :)

I don't think I acted due to courage. It was more like I did like I had been told to act. How to react to improper behavior is part of the sex education in the fifth, eighth, and ninth grades, but when the girl's mother took hold of me and shook me like a rag, I was really scared.
 
I don't think I acted due to courage. It was more like I did like I had been told to act. How to react to improper behavior is part of the sex education in the fifth, eighth, and ninth grades, but when the girl's mother took hold of me and shook me like a rag, I was really scared.
Just from my point of view, then, it was courageous. Wish I had been educated as students are now....
 
axolotl-- salamander dwelling in mountainous lakes

I Wandered Lonely As a Clod

I wandered lonely as a clod,
Just picking up old rags and bottles,
When onward on my way I plod,
I saw a host of axolotls;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
A sight to make a man’s blood freeze.

Some had handles, some were plain;
They came in blue, red pink, and green.
A few were orange in the main;
The damnedest sight I’ve ever seen.
The females gave a sprightly glance;
The male ones all wore knee-length pants.

Now oft, when on the couch I lie,
The doctor asks me what I see.
They flash upon my inward eye
And make me laugh in fiendish glee.
I find my solace then in bottles,
And I forget them axolotls.

This poem was published in Mad Magazine in 1958. At that time Gramps was a fan.
 
I think having got so far off topic I'll try to do a words again.

I've managed to create these and many will have been affected by them so here we go how's about a :

dangling pointer

A pointer in computing points to a particular bit of memory. A dangling one can be pointing anywhere.

For a computer, a dangling pointer must be like the cow jumping over the picket fence. It would be utterly disastrous.
 
For a computer, a dangling pointer must be like the cow jumping over the picket fence. It would be utterly disastrous.

First time I did it was in the days of DOS when I was trying to teach myself Turbo Pascal and made a few mistakes with learning linked lists (lets say each item in the list is suppose to point to the next one). I had my PC1512 (one of the first really affordable PCs in the UK) displaying random characters on the screen and beeping like mad.

As far as I understand things, operating systems tend to handle things better now so a program may crash with (eg. on Windows) a "General protection error" rather than have the whole machine crash when you try to write to memory that you shouldn't. Also, maybe some languages are kinder than others. Java (something I'm more likely to play with theses days) might halt the program with a "null pointer exception". But, yes, I think if something really does get into memory it never was intended to go to, the results are what you might call "unpredictable".

(I'm not a professional programmer btw but someone who does like to write things once in a while)
 
First time I did it was in the days of DOS when I was trying to teach myself Turbo Pascal and made a few mistakes with learning linked lists (lets say each item in the list is suppose to point to the next one). I had my PC1512 (one of the first really affordable PCs in the UK) displaying random characters on the screen and beeping like mad.

As far as I understand things, operating systems tend to handle things better now so a program may crash with (eg. on Windows) a "General protection error" rather than have the whole machine crash when you try to write to memory that you shouldn't. Also, maybe some languages are kinder than others. Java (something I'm more likely to play with theses days) might halt the program with a "null pointer exception". But, yes, I think if something really does get into memory it never was intended to go to, the results are what you might call "unpredictable".

(I'm not a professional programmer btw but someone who does like to write things once in a while)

programming language - a formal constructed language designed to communicate instructions to a machine

My running partners somehow didn't show today, and Mom won't let me even run around the block by myself, so I have some time to learn about programming language. I thought that the first programming language was FORTRAN, which Gramps studied in 1962 (back in the Dark Ages); but according to Wikipedia, languages were developed for looms and player pianos. That is totally a cowabunaga, eureka moment.
 
If you wanted career advice, maybe ask Ravindran who I've read is a professional.

I will offer a couple of thoughts from my own casual position though.

COBOL is around in the business world and I'm under the impression that people with those skills can still be wanted. I'ts not something I've used and think it looks horribly wordy but maybe that's me.

A popular choice when I've seen in this sort of topic crop up elsewhere is Python.

I started to try to write things in BASIC (the old type with line numbers) on an Vic20 but what sense I made of things only really came together with (Turbo) Pascal on a PC. Pascal was designed as a teching language and personally I liked the way it was quite rigid/strict with what you could do but I think most would think it a bit dated now.

Most Android apps are written purely in Java.

One thing you will find is that thought may work along the lines "I need a list to do this" or see things in terms of logical blocks, maybe know that you need to loop throgh something. A lot of that sort of thinking can transfer. Also, the syntax might be similar so if say you learned how to do something in python but were faced with php, you'd at least know where you were trying to go. It need not be all starting from scratch when you see a new lagnuage to you.
 
(python is a bit different to php in that it that it uses indenting things where others may use curly braces but you 'd get one if you could read the other)
 
axolotl-- salamander dwelling in mountainous lakes

I Wandered Lonely As a Clod

I wandered lonely as a clod,
Just picking up old rags and bottles,
When onward on my way I plod,
I saw a host of axolotls;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
A sight to make a man’s blood freeze.

Some had handles, some were plain;
They came in blue, red pink, and green.
A few were orange in the main;
The damnedest sight I’ve ever seen.
The females gave a sprightly glance;
The male ones all wore knee-length pants.

Now oft, when on the couch I lie,
The doctor asks me what I see.
They flash upon my inward eye
And make me laugh in fiendish glee.
I find my solace then in bottles,
And I forget them axolotls.

This poem was published in Mad Magazine in 1958. At that time Gramps was a fan.

I used to be a Mad Magazine fan! :D
 
I used to be a Mad Magazine fan! :D


Don't know that mag.

I'm trying to think where I might have started with that verse.

I wandered lonely as a clown
Dressed in a veil and in high heels
When all at once I saw a pond.
A pool, of slippy slimy eels.
Inside that lake, beneath the trees,
Those fishies bit me on my kneeze.


(sorry can't really do that sort of thing)
 
de·con·struc·tion

a method of critical analysis of philosophical and literary language that emphasizes the internal workings of language and conceptual systems, the relational quality of meaning, and the assumptions implicit in forms of expression.

A French philosopher, Jacques Derrida coined the word, deconstruction, in his book, Of Grammatology. I know about Derrida because a teacher who has guided me and some other students through the last three years of school, mentioned Derrida when he asked us to read a book by Alain Badiau, another French philosopher and everybody’s favorite Communist. None of us could understand Badiau, which is likely why our teacher did not ask us to read Derrida.

Our seventh grade English teacher asked us to read the following poem by Billy Collins. Since then I have wondered if Collin’s rope and hose could be Derrida’s deconstruction.

Introduction to Poetry
BY BILLY COLLINS

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.
 
de·con·struc·tion

a method of critical analysis of philosophical and literary language that emphasizes the internal workings of language and conceptual systems, the relational quality of meaning, and the assumptions implicit in forms of expression.

A French philosopher, Jacques Derrida coined the word, deconstruction, in his book, Of Grammatology. I know about Derrida because a teacher who has guided me and some other students through the last three years of school, mentioned Derrida when he asked us to read a book by Alain Badiau, another French philosopher and everybody’s favorite Communist. None of us could understand Badiau, which is likely why our teacher did not ask us to read Derrida.

Our seventh grade English teacher asked us to read the following poem by Billy Collins. Since then I have wondered if Collin’s rope and hose could be Derrida’s deconstruction.

Introduction to Poetry
BY BILLY COLLINS

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.
I really like that poem. I often felt like that in English classes in college. Seriously, sometimes, instructors want to ream the joy out of poetry. Sure, some hold no joy, but I intend those that do -- and I tend to find at least some fun is in all poetry. But hand it to some instructors, and....
 
Back
Top