Logorrhoea or logorrhea (Greek Î»Î¿Î³Î¿ÏÏÎ¿Î¹Î±, logorrhoia, â€œword-fluxâ€) is defined as an â€œexcessive flow of wordsâ€ and, when used medically, refers to incoherent talkativeness that occurs in certain kinds of mental illness, such as mania. The spoken form of logorrhoea (in the non-medical sense) is a kind of verbosity that uses superfluous or fancy words to disguise a useless or simple message as useful or intellectual, and is commonly known as â€œverbal diarrhoeaâ€ or “diarrhoea of the mouth”.
This is clearly a dry run for a terrorist plot of some kind.
A giant, smiling Lego man has been fished out of the sea in the Dutch resort of Zandvoort.
Workers at a drinks stall rescued the 2.5-metre tall model, which had a yellow head and blue torso.
“We saw something bobbing about in the sea and we decided to take it out of the water,” said a stall worker. “It was a life-sized Lego toy.”
Marshall was a U.S. Army historian in the Pacific theater during World War II and later became the official U.S. historian of the European theater of operations. He had a team of historians working for him, and they based their findings on individual and mass interviews with thousands of soldiers in more than 400 infantry companies immediately after they had been in close combat with German or Japanese troops. The results were consistently the same: Only 15 to 20 percent of the American riflemen in combat during World War II would fire at the enemy. Those who would not fire did not run or hideâ€”in many cases they were willing to risk greater danger to rescue comrades, get ammunition, or run messages. They simply would not fire their weapons at the enemy, even when faced with repeated waves of banzai charges.
Why did these men fail to fire? As a historian, psychologist, and soldier, I examined this question and studied the process of killing in combat. I have realized that there was one major factor missing from the common understanding of this process, a factor that answers this question and more: the simple and demonstrable fact that there is, within most men and women, an intense resistance to killing other people. A resistance so strong that, in many circumstances, soldiers on the battlefield will die before they can overcome it.
Today’s question is a two parter.
1. What’s the best concert you have ever seen?
2. If you could go back in time, (for concert attendance only) which concert would you go back to see?
The best concert I’ve probably ever been to was a Pearl Jam concert at the Fleet Center in Boston right after Vs. came out (around 1993 I think). They had reached their peak (it was all downhill after Vitalogy) and Vedder hadn’t yet perfected his Jim Morrison impersonation. The runner up concert would be the time I saw BB King (1990 I think) play in a club in Providence, RI. The only downside was he had three opening bands and by the time he took the stage we were already exhausted.
For a concert I wish I could have seen, (I didn’t exist before ’74), I would pick any Jimi Hendrix concert on his tour immediately following his Monterey appearance. Perhaps one
when the Monkees opened for him when he opened for the Monkees just for the glaring contrast. (What were the promoters thinking?). Runner ups would be any Led Zepplin concert pre-Stairway. And the Beatles at the Cavern Club.
So Bonds broke one of baseball’s most coveted records last night (Or is it the most coveted?) and I certainly couldn’t care. Does anybody?
An overwhelming number of voters in The Business Journal’s most recent online survey think there is something wrong with giving slugger Barry Bonds full credit for beating Hank Aaron’s long-standing record for the most home runs hit by a Major League Baseball player.
Bonds beat Aaron’s record of 755 round-trippers on Aug. 7, but his accomplishments have been tainted by rumors he used performance-enhancing drugs.
Of the 393 votes cast for the question, “How do you feel about Barry Bonds breaking Hank Aaron’s record?,” 42 percent chose the answer, “There should be an asterisk next to his name in the record books.” Another 27 percent felt even stronger. They picked the answer: “His name shouldn’t even be in the record books.”
Only 18 percent chose the answer, “He’s a great athlete and deserves it,” while 11 percent answered, “I don’t care. Baseball is nothing to me.”
The Christian of to-day wonders at the savage who bowed before
his idol; and yet it must be confessed that the god of stone
answered prayer and protected his worshipers precisely as the
Christian’s God answers prayer and protects his worshipers to-day.
Robert Green Ingersoll – “Why I Am Agnostic”