Felicette, η πρώτη και μοναδική γάτα* που ταξίδεψε στο διάστημα
Πλάκα, Πύργος των Αέρηδων δεκαετία 1920
Σάντα Λουκία, παραθαλάσσια συνοικία στη Νάπολη, το 1895 μΧ
Καλώδια πάνω από τους δρόμους της Νέας Υόρκης, περίπου το 1870
Σπίτι στην οδό Τριπόδων 32, όπου γυρίστηκε η ταινία Η δε γυνή να φοβήται τον άντρα
* μαζί είχε ταξιδέψει και ένα ποντίκι αλλά για κάποιο λόγο εξαφανίστηκε.
Obituary: Kevin J. McGroarty
WEST PITTSTON, Pa.—McGroarty Achieves Room Temperature!
Kevin J. McGroarty, 53, of West Pittston, died Tuesday, July 22, 2014, after battling a long fight with mediocracy.
Born 1960 in the Nesbitt Hospital, he was the bouncing baby boy of the late Lt. Col. Edward M. McGroarty and Helen Jane (Hudson) McGroarty, whom the New York Times should have noted as extraordinary parents.
He was baptized at St. Cecilia Church, Exeter, which later burned to the ground, attended Butler Street Elementary, which was later torn down, and middle school at 6th Street in Wyoming, now an apartment building.
He enjoyed elaborate practical jokes, over-tipping in restaurants, sushi and Marx Brother’s movies.
He led a crusade to promote area midget wrestling, and in his youth was noted for his many unsanctioned daredevil stunts.
He was preceded in death by brother, Airborne Ranger Lt. Michael F. McGroarty, and many beloved pets, Chainsaw, an English Mastiff in Spring 2009, Baron, an Irish Setter in August 1982, Peter Max, a turtle, Summer 1968; along with numerous house flies and bees, but they were only acquaintances.
McGroarty leaves behind no children (that he knows of), but if he did their names would be son, “Almighty Thor” McGroarty; and daughter, “Butter Cup Patchouli.”
McGroarty was a veteran of the advertising industry since 1983. McGroarty was a pioneer in Apple computing, purchasing one of the first in the Wyoming Valley in 1985. He would like to remind his friends: “Please, don’t email me, I’m dead.”
McGroarty was a founding partner of Pyramid Advertising, and finally principal owner of award-winning Rhino Media until 2006. He was also an adjunct instructor at Luzerne County Community College, from 2005-2009.
He will be laid to rest at Mount Olivet Cemetery, section 7N. He asks to please make note of his new address. McGroarty’s headstone reads: “I’ll Be Right Back,” one of his favorite sayings. He leaves this world with few regrets, one being told in grade school, his adult life would see the Hershey candy bar rise in cost to over a dollar. He maintained given the resources and initiative, he would rally the good citizens of the Commonwealth to a revolution that would force that price to its original 35-cent market value, a dream he was not able to fulfill, by his own admission the reason: “I was distracted by many beautiful women.”
In lieu of flowers, friends are asked to please give generously to the Pennsylvania State Police Troop “P” Camp Cadet Fund.
A Mass of Christian Burial will be held at 10 a.m. Monday in St. Cecilia Church of St. Barbara Parish, 1700 Wyoming Ave., Exeter, following a brief rant of how the government screwed up all of the Bugs Bunny cartoons trying to censor violence. This will be presented by his attorney, Bret Zankel, Esq. Friends may call from 9 to 10 a.m. Monday in the church.
McGroarty leaves behind a thought for all to ponder, given years of gathering wisdom from different religions and deep study of the Greek philosophers: “It costs nothing to be nice” and “Never stick a steak knife in an electrical outlet.”
Arrangements by the Metcalfe-Shaver-Kopcza Funeral Home Inc., 504 Wyoming Ave., Wyoming.
Black shadows fall
From the lindens tall,
That lift aloft their massive wall
Against the southern sky;
And from the realms
Of the shadowy elms
A tide-like darkness overwhelms
The fields that round us lie.
But the night is fair,
And everywhere
A warm, soft vapor fills the air,
And distant sounds seem near;
And above, in the light
Of the star-lit night,
Swift birds of passage wing their flight
Through the dewy atmosphere.
I hear the beat
Of their pinions fleet,
As from the land of snow and sleet
They seek a southern lea.
I hear the cry
Of their voices high
Falling dreamily through the sky,
But their forms I cannot see.
Oh, say not so!
Those sounds that flow
In murmurs of delight and woe
Come not from wings of birds.
They are the throngs
Of the poet’s songs,
Murmurs of pleasures, and pains, and wrongs,
The sound of winged words.
This is the cry
Of souls, that high
On toiling, beating pinions, fly,
Seeking a warmer clime.
From their distant flight
Through realms of light
It falls into our world of night,
With the murmuring sound of rhyme.
Ευτυχώς βρέθηκαν τα γκέκο που είχαν χαθεί στο διάστημα.
Η προσπάθεια του John έπιασε.
Δεν είδα όμως κάποια αντίδραση από κανέναν.
Ίσως ο κόσμος δεν αντιλαμβάνεται τον κίνδυνο του να έχεις σαύρες στο διάστημα να αναπαράγονται, εκτεθειμένες σε τόση ακτινοβολία, με πρόσβαση σε τέτοια τεχνολογία και με όλο τον χρόνο να σκεφτούν.
O Kirk σίγουρα καταλαβαίνει τον κίνδυνο.
Δεν είναι τίποτα ‘τυχαίο’ στο Star Trek: The Original Series.
Και αν νομίζετε ότι ‘α, σιγά αυτό έγινε παλιά’, κοιτάξτε αυτό…
Νομίζετε ότι τα πράγματα θα είναι τόσο ειρηνικά;
Keep on fighting the good fight Bill…
Remember, now, be here now
As it’s not like it was before.
The past, was, be here now
As it’s not like it was before – it was
Why try to live a life,
That isn’t real,
No how
A mind, that wants to wander,
’round a corner,
Is an un-wise mind
Now, is, be here now
And it’s not what it was before,
Remember, now, be here now
As it’s not like it was before – it was
She comes not when Noon is on the roses–
Too bright is Day.
She comes not to the Soul till it reposes
From work and play.
But when Night is on the hills, and the great Voices
Roll in from Sea,
By starlight and by candlelight and dreamlight
She comes to me.
Eight Principles of Successful Optimists
outsidetheegg.wordpress.com 