|
Post by epaul on Apr 2, 2009 13:18:39 GMT -5
Paul, if you'd been listening a little closer to that story on the radio, you'd know that those whale farms are in Illinois. Now, if you can come up with an alternative crop to save the Illinois farmers now that corn prices have crashed, maybe then you can be so self-righteous. C'mon, they're just trying to earn a living like everybody else. Really? Well, hell, that changes everything. Those darn Illinois whales are an introduced species. And a damned nuisance. I guarantee you there weren't any whales messing up the Illinois prairie back before whenever.
|
|
|
Post by Doug on Apr 2, 2009 13:21:34 GMT -5
They were there before that damned continental drift got going (caused by man made pollution.)
|
|
|
Post by RickW on Apr 2, 2009 14:59:47 GMT -5
Well, the great plains were actually under water before the last ice age. Our neanderthal ancestors used to burn mountains of whale dung powering their caves. This resulted in global warming and a massive die off - and once the dung was gone, and the whales, global cooling set in, and the big freeze happened.
Honest.
Will we never learn?
|
|
|
Post by millring on Apr 2, 2009 15:54:48 GMT -5
Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, the newspaper industry tanking as it is, and no particular love interest keeping me in the Twin Cities, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the Minnesota. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my fellow Soundholian’s typos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. Leaving Minnesota goes without saying. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.
|
|
|
Post by dradtke on Apr 2, 2009 16:08:23 GMT -5
Call me Fishmeal.
|
|
|
Post by millring on Apr 2, 2009 16:24:32 GMT -5
;D
|
|
|
Post by epaul on Apr 2, 2009 19:12:38 GMT -5
So now NPR says they were just joking? There are no whale farms in Illinois?
Sheesh!
Whale farms, my arse. I knew the *##! were teasing. The *%%%$ bastids.
|
|
|
Post by Village Idiot on Apr 2, 2009 19:36:56 GMT -5
There now is your insular state of the Illinoisans, belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs - commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme down-town is the battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there.
|
|
|
Post by millring on Apr 2, 2009 19:53:25 GMT -5
Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Soundhole afternoon. Go from Cornflake's Hook to Wrenblue's Slip, and from thence, by Tamarack, northward. What do you see?--Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of internet web posts fixed in mindless, trivial reveries. Some leaning against the avatars; some seated upon the tag-lines; some looking through reading glasses! of jpgs from China; some html aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better youtube peep. But these are all folks with time on their hands; of week days pent up in lath and plaster--tied to surveyor's equipment, nailed to basement projects, clinched to desks. How then is this? Are the green fields gone? What do they here?
|
|
|
Post by RickW on Apr 2, 2009 20:37:21 GMT -5
John, I think it's time you got outside some. You seem be, well...drifting......
|
|
|
Post by Village Idiot on Apr 2, 2009 20:59:13 GMT -5
But look! here come more crowds, pacing straight for the internet, and seemingly bound for the Soundhole. Strange! Nothing will content them but the extremest limit of the web; loitering under the shady lee of yonder guitar sites will not suffice. No. They must get just as nigh the Soundhole as they possibly can without falling in. And there they stand - miles of them - leagues. Guitarists all, they come from lanes and alleys, streets and avenues, - north, east, south, and west. Yet here they all unite. Tell me, does the magnetic virtue of the needles of the compasses of all those instruments attract them thither?
|
|
|
Post by Cosmic Wonder on Apr 2, 2009 21:26:35 GMT -5
So now NPR says they were just joking? There are no whale farms in Illinois? Sheesh! Whale farms, my arse. I knew the *##! were teasing. The *%%%$ bastids. Paul, uhhh, what was the date when you heard this story. And the part about teaching the whales to sing whalesong in three part harmony didn't give you a hint? Mike
|
|
|
Post by epaul on Apr 2, 2009 21:40:17 GMT -5
Same date I started this thread.
|
|