Aarod’s High-Five (III)

Five websites worth checking out this week. (Jan 4- Jan 10)

Not as predictable as you may think.
The storms are coming…
Raises the standards doesn’t it? Well trained indeed…
A man that women don’t mind sending to the grocery store. He knows how to handle a cart.
Sung like You’ve never heard it sung before.

Have You Ever Tried To Be Good? (part one)

“The good is the enemy of the best.”  Perhaps you’ve heard that before.  A simple phrase that suggests that we should not consider satisfactory completion of a thing when it is still in a state more primitive than its highest possible form of completion.  (aka: If it is not complete, don’t accept that it is.)  Voltaire reverses the quote to say: “The best is the enemy of the good.” (aka: Don’t be greedy and strive for more than you should.”)
Stated either way, “good” and “great” are both relative forms.  We …

A Christmas Tale

Selfish shoppers pushed through crowds of their own kind.  Each one was looking for a gift to give to someone.  Each one was interested in their own.  Selfish gifting?  Was there any greater irony?
He watched as the crowds grew and grew, as the swarms buzzed apprehensively in poorly designed patterns.  One man was talking busily on the phone; a woman rolled her eyes at her partner and put on a show.  Was she really an adult?  He had his suspicions.  Each person had an agenda.  He did not.
He wasn’t going …

The Diary Of A Friendly Inquirer (part two)

This entry is part 2 of 2 in the series The Diary of a Friendly Inquisitor

Cover of Ulysses

(this is the conclusion of the prior article: The Diary Of A Friendly Inquirer (part one) by Antonio Taboada, Lima- Peru 2008)
I make a quick list of things that cause me to feel insignificant and I recognize that the biggest cause is my emotional instability, that no one will understand and for that, I will be alone for the rest of my life. And I know that next time I go out with …

Ignorantly Guilty

Flickering uncertainly, a dim light was cast by torches, highlighting the curves of the digital camera.  The defendant – a photographer – sat in a corner of the primitive hut; the persistent, hostile stares of his accusers kept him strapped to his chair.  A short man stood in front of a panel of judges.  Countless beads and bones, feathers and grasses, paint and stains decorated the man and emphasized his every gesture as he accused the photographer.  The evidence was plain- when the camera blinked; it isolated a part of …