dyslexics are teople poo

You've probably heard about the sugar refinery blast and fire in Georgia. They're saying that dust is what started the whole thing. That made me think of Pam's dad. He grew up in a children's home in Nebraska run by the Evangelical Free Church during the depression. They had over 100 kids from toddlers through high school, and as a child grew older they were given age appropriate jobs, either at the home or off site. Any income earned by an older child went to the operation of the home.
One of her dad's jobs at one point was to stand in a grain elevator with a water hose in his hand and stare at the light bulbs all day. He explained that almost anything was flammable if it was dispersed in the air as sufficiently fine particles. The grain dust could be ignited by the light bulbs, and if that happened her dad was to spray water on it to put out the fire before there was a mass ignition (read: ka-boom!). I'm thinking that if dust particles were ignited by a light bulb the results wouldn't wait for a 13-year old with a water hose.
Obviously he never found out. He lived through that experience and lots more, including some stories that made for fascinating listening. He was a very cool man!
In the really excellent ending category, that children's home is still there but now it's a retirement home run by the Free Church. And several of the children who grew up there now live in the same facility as retirees.

I read this article on CNN.com a couple of days ago. Worth passing along. I learned some things.
If you get hit by a bus tomorrow

But lest we get caught up in too much seriousness:
A Foreign Cartoon about Hands
I have no idea what this is about, but I'm betting you'll like it too.

Last night I wrote that we're having a contest to come up with a new name for what we've been calling "Second Hour." Somebody has a rather smart-alec sense of humor. They sent me an anonymous message suggesting "Last Lap - almost over if you can hang in there."

OK, work with me on this one.
Let's say you're a well-mannered 5th grade boy, unusually big for your age. You and your 5th grade buds hang out in the far corner of the playground during lunch recess. One day you look across the playground and see a 3rd grade bully whoopin' on a diminutive 2nd grader. The little guy's nose is bloodied, his shirt is torn, and he's about to get slammed by the bully. A staff person is nowhere to be found.
What do you do?
Do you have a moral obligation to cross the playground and intervene? You outsize the 3rd grader by a wide margin, so you'll be able to put an end to his cruel behavior easily. There's a chance he could get in a lucky punch, but he's far more likely to slink off to the swing set as soon as he sees you approaching.
If you don't go over there the kid is clearly going to get beat up; the bully seems to have no conscience and is going after the 2nd grader mercilessly. If you stay in your corner of the playground and that happens, are you guilty of a sin of omission?
Let's crank it up a notch: if that 5th grade boy were your son, would you want him to cross the playground and intervene on behalf of the little kid getting slammed?

If your answer is yes, tell me if you think we should intervene on behalf of the ethnic minority getting slaughtered in Sudan. Or in any of the other locations where a helpless minority is getting systematically eliminated in what qualifies as ethnic cleansing.

I'm not saying I have the answers. I'm just saying I see the problem.

Connecticut: Like Massachusetts, only the Kennedy's don't own it yet.