Sunday, January 8, 2012
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
WOW! KIRSTER ALLEY'S MIND BLOWING WEIGHT LOSS!!!
GO HERE BELOW FOR THE AMAZING TRANSFORMATION!
http://shine.yahoo.com/channel/health/wow-kirstie-alleys-dramatic-weight-loss-2552882/#photoViewer=10
GO HERE BELOW FOR THE AMAZING TRANSFORMATION!
http://shine.yahoo.com/channel/health/wow-kirstie-alleys-dramatic-weight-loss-2552882/#photoViewer=10
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Thoughts to Ponder
Leo's Very Own Thoughts to screw up your day. Poems: Maybe!
The moon doth wax and wane,
No it don't,
That's what we put on our cars,
and name our kids
Life is not the way
of the setting sun (What!)
Evolution speaks of great enterprises
fit for a King (now thats right)
If I am alone,
then what is this thing,
when I pick the tomatoes
I am not made from what I chose,
but the DNA,
from which I rose
Where is God,
is he in the sky,
I can't know until
I look him in the eye
(hang on it gets better)
Being religious,
they will pray for you
but an atheist would call
a doctor (Uh, cull that)
If you really,really,really believe
in a God
Would you please,please
ask him
where I lost my Pipe. (I really need to know that)
(These are some of my thoughts from
the other night when I was cutting my toenails.) Cull that too.
More good stuff when my nails grow. (Dang)
The moon doth wax and wane,
No it don't,
That's what we put on our cars,
and name our kids
Life is not the way
of the setting sun (What!)
Evolution speaks of great enterprises
fit for a King (now thats right)
If I am alone,
then what is this thing,
when I pick the tomatoes
I am not made from what I chose,
but the DNA,
from which I rose
Where is God,
is he in the sky,
I can't know until
I look him in the eye
(hang on it gets better)
If you really,really,really believe
in a God
Would you please,please
ask him
where I lost my Pipe. (I really need to know that)
Friday, December 11, 2009
How To Beat The Socks Off your Wife In An Argument
Well, I’m back. I would have been back sooner, but I had to mow my lawn Normally I write my articles first and then I mow my lawn, but my wife got to me first. It takes about two days to do it right, (that is stop for a cold drink, nap, watch the news, etc.) If I don’t do it right it takes about two hours. (according to my wife).And if you add that stupid lot next door that only serves two purposes, (it holds our storage room and grows grass.) it’s a big distraction from writing articles. This time I didn’t want to do it. That caused the usual argument. Sometimes a man has to stand up for himself and put things in the right order of priorities, firmly but politely.
“I have to write an article.” I argued.
“O.K., a and an, that’s two,” she replied, now a little peeved, ”Takes about two seconds, what else?”
God , I hate it when women try to pull their education on me in an argument.
O.K. , but she has descended into a writer’s territory now. Us authors know about that kind of stuff.
"But I don’t know if I want to write about “an apple” or “a car,” I prodded her.
“Well, it depends if you are writing about any “apple” you have to use an indefinite article like “an” since “apple” starts with a vowel. But if you are writing about a specific “apple” you have to use “the” like in ”The Apple in the Garden Of Eden.” “Now can we mow?”
Holy crap! Can you wait just a minute while I write that down. I might need that sometimes. Well, evidently she had been punished enough, which was evident in her next statement.
“Besides I’m baking something you like very much,” she teased.
“A chocolate cake!,” I almost shouted, losing my cool.
“No” she grinned.
My heart fell.
“The chocolate cake,” she corrected again. “Mind your articles”
“The triple layer, double frosted, double fudge chocolate cake that I like”
Now I was catching on. She lost that argument big time.
Thinking about “The” Chocolate cake that was baking, I thought what ever happened to the sweet agreeable little girl that I used to sit with in the back seat of my ‘57 chevy,at the drive in movie (And for you read between the liners doing your little computing, I could have bought the ‘57 chevy much later and yes drive in movies were still around until about the seventies.)
And what the hell did the Garden of Eden have to do with anything. That’s just like women, they try to confuse you, but I have learned not to be confused. I can see past all that. I’m also sure of one thing, when Mother’s teach their daughters to bake chocolate cake, it’s for lots of reasons other than housekeeping.
They know what they are doing. Men are going to have to learn some things other than driving tanks.
Just then I ran out of gas in the middle of the lot.
I was half through the lot mowing when my son drove up with more junk to store in my store room.
“Why don’t you build your own storage,” I asked. as we struggled with an old torn sofa that would look better in the junkyard.
“Gosh, Dad we don’t have the extra cash until we build our home.
“And when’s that,” I asked hopefully.
“Oh, in about 2 years or so,” he said nonchalantly, ”Dad, could you help me with this car engine, it’s pretty heavy”
“How did she run out of gas,” I moaned, to my wife, who had just received a call from our daughter.
“I don’t know,” she said, “I would guess that a better way of saying it would be she used it all up”
“But she’s got a new car,” I sputtered. “They don’t run out of gas , do they”
Standing in the middle of the freeway, holding an empty gas can, I’m thinking. Is this all fathers are for, to peddle gas on the freeway for my daughter, build storage buildings for my son and mow my wife’s grass. My daughter had spun off after the fill up with a quick “Thank You Dad, you’re the greatest” Shouldn’t I get paid or something? It seems to be much cheaper to have your father bring you gas than to buy it at the station. I felt a little lonely on the side of this busy thoroughfare holding my empty gas can.
“Why does he have to fill my storage up when they have storage all over town,” I said to my wife.
“ Well we don’t have too much in there.”
“I have lots in there ,” I countered.
“It’s mostly junk, for example that old car seat you have in there takes up a lot of room.”
“That’s not junk.”I said. “It’s the back seat from my ‘57 Chevy. Don’t you remember the nights at the drive in in that back seat”
“That wasn’t me!,” she turned around sharply. I never did sit in the back seat of a ‘57 Chevy with you” “You had a ‘65 Dart when we were dating.”
“’65 Dart!,” I exclaimed.
“Who did you sit with in the back seat of a ‘57 Chevy ?”
“You,” I screamed.
“Wasn’t me,” she screamed back,” Now who was it?”
“I have to get back to mowing,” I passed The chocolate cake on my way out.
In my ‘57 Chevy seat in the now crowded storage, I was now completely confused. ‘65 Dart. Garden of Eden. ’57 Chevy. The chocolate cake.
What has happened to my memory? Am I getting senile?.
So I decided to write this article and here it is: “a” Well, I told you I was confused.
Any how now I'm sitting amongst my son's junk. My daughter's car is probably getting close to empty again, the mowing isn't finished yet, my wife is asking questions I can't answer and worst of all I don't know if I will get any of THE CAKE
At that moment though in my deepest despair, I heard the familiar squeaking of the storage door. My wife peeked inside, walked over to me in my '57 Chevy seat, sat down beside me and with the brightest smile handed me the biggest slice of triple layer, double frosted, double fudge chocolate cake I had ever seen. "Now I have ," she said still beaming.
“
“I have to write an article.” I argued.
“O.K., a and an, that’s two,” she replied, now a little peeved, ”Takes about two seconds, what else?”
God , I hate it when women try to pull their education on me in an argument.
O.K. , but she has descended into a writer’s territory now. Us authors know about that kind of stuff.
"But I don’t know if I want to write about “an apple” or “a car,” I prodded her.
“Well, it depends if you are writing about any “apple” you have to use an indefinite article like “an” since “apple” starts with a vowel. But if you are writing about a specific “apple” you have to use “the” like in ”The Apple in the Garden Of Eden.” “Now can we mow?”
Holy crap! Can you wait just a minute while I write that down. I might need that sometimes. Well, evidently she had been punished enough, which was evident in her next statement.
“Besides I’m baking something you like very much,” she teased.
“A chocolate cake!,” I almost shouted, losing my cool.
“No” she grinned.
My heart fell.
“The chocolate cake,” she corrected again. “Mind your articles”
“The triple layer, double frosted, double fudge chocolate cake that I like”
Now I was catching on. She lost that argument big time.
Thinking about “The” Chocolate cake that was baking, I thought what ever happened to the sweet agreeable little girl that I used to sit with in the back seat of my ‘57 chevy,at the drive in movie (And for you read between the liners doing your little computing, I could have bought the ‘57 chevy much later and yes drive in movies were still around until about the seventies.)
And what the hell did the Garden of Eden have to do with anything. That’s just like women, they try to confuse you, but I have learned not to be confused. I can see past all that. I’m also sure of one thing, when Mother’s teach their daughters to bake chocolate cake, it’s for lots of reasons other than housekeeping.
They know what they are doing. Men are going to have to learn some things other than driving tanks.
Just then I ran out of gas in the middle of the lot.
I was half through the lot mowing when my son drove up with more junk to store in my store room.
“Why don’t you build your own storage,” I asked. as we struggled with an old torn sofa that would look better in the junkyard.
“Gosh, Dad we don’t have the extra cash until we build our home.
“And when’s that,” I asked hopefully.
“Oh, in about 2 years or so,” he said nonchalantly, ”Dad, could you help me with this car engine, it’s pretty heavy”
“How did she run out of gas,” I moaned, to my wife, who had just received a call from our daughter.
“I don’t know,” she said, “I would guess that a better way of saying it would be she used it all up”
“But she’s got a new car,” I sputtered. “They don’t run out of gas , do they”
Standing in the middle of the freeway, holding an empty gas can, I’m thinking. Is this all fathers are for, to peddle gas on the freeway for my daughter, build storage buildings for my son and mow my wife’s grass. My daughter had spun off after the fill up with a quick “Thank You Dad, you’re the greatest” Shouldn’t I get paid or something? It seems to be much cheaper to have your father bring you gas than to buy it at the station. I felt a little lonely on the side of this busy thoroughfare holding my empty gas can.
“Why does he have to fill my storage up when they have storage all over town,” I said to my wife.
“ Well we don’t have too much in there.”
“I have lots in there ,” I countered.
“It’s mostly junk, for example that old car seat you have in there takes up a lot of room.”
“That’s not junk.”I said. “It’s the back seat from my ‘57 Chevy. Don’t you remember the nights at the drive in in that back seat”
“That wasn’t me!,” she turned around sharply. I never did sit in the back seat of a ‘57 Chevy with you” “You had a ‘65 Dart when we were dating.”
“’65 Dart!,” I exclaimed.
“Who did you sit with in the back seat of a ‘57 Chevy ?”
“You,” I screamed.
“Wasn’t me,” she screamed back,” Now who was it?”
“I have to get back to mowing,” I passed The chocolate cake on my way out.
In my ‘57 Chevy seat in the now crowded storage, I was now completely confused. ‘65 Dart. Garden of Eden. ’57 Chevy. The chocolate cake.
What has happened to my memory? Am I getting senile?.
So I decided to write this article and here it is: “a” Well, I told you I was confused.
Any how now I'm sitting amongst my son's junk. My daughter's car is probably getting close to empty again, the mowing isn't finished yet, my wife is asking questions I can't answer and worst of all I don't know if I will get any of THE CAKE
At that moment though in my deepest despair, I heard the familiar squeaking of the storage door. My wife peeked inside, walked over to me in my '57 Chevy seat, sat down beside me and with the brightest smile handed me the biggest slice of triple layer, double frosted, double fudge chocolate cake I had ever seen. "Now I have ," she said still beaming.
“
Monday, November 16, 2009
AN HONEST POLITICIAN, AT LAST!
AN HONEST POLITICIAN, AT LAST!
By
Leo Ponder
If I am elected I promise to do all I can to promote myself and do all I can to make as much money as I can. I will ignore my constituency and vote the way I feel personally. I will not support a bill if it means a fight and is unpopular. Also, if elected, I promise all my promises will be kept, if I deem them necessary at the time
I will not be partial to lobbying groups, I will pick the one that I consider most beneficial to myself, regardless!
Furthermore, I and my office will be open for any input on any issue that I deem important. I don’t care about tradition unless it suits my purposes today and not many do.
I personally promise to stay out of controversial subjects such as , welfare, social security, taxes, abortion, and scandals if it might affect my re-election. You can also be assured that I will object to any investigation of
Anybody for anything, since it might affect my own integrity in office.
Patriotism was a very important trait in the establishment of this country especially for George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and so on but because of such moral decay and personal greed that is rampant today I will not be bound by such oddities.
Nothing I have ever said can be held against me since everything I have ever said I really didn’t say, Only the things I should haqve said that affect the things that I say now are really the things that I have said, and I really mean that!
Let me end by stating that I need your vote and an willing to do anything to get it and I mean anything! I am glad to have been so honest and straightforward with you today, unlike my sleaze ball competition who is not honest with his promises, My ambitions are sincere. Thank you for your vote.
By
Leo Ponder
If I am elected I promise to do all I can to promote myself and do all I can to make as much money as I can. I will ignore my constituency and vote the way I feel personally. I will not support a bill if it means a fight and is unpopular. Also, if elected, I promise all my promises will be kept, if I deem them necessary at the time
I will not be partial to lobbying groups, I will pick the one that I consider most beneficial to myself, regardless!
Furthermore, I and my office will be open for any input on any issue that I deem important. I don’t care about tradition unless it suits my purposes today and not many do.
I personally promise to stay out of controversial subjects such as , welfare, social security, taxes, abortion, and scandals if it might affect my re-election. You can also be assured that I will object to any investigation of
Anybody for anything, since it might affect my own integrity in office.
Patriotism was a very important trait in the establishment of this country especially for George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and so on but because of such moral decay and personal greed that is rampant today I will not be bound by such oddities.
Nothing I have ever said can be held against me since everything I have ever said I really didn’t say, Only the things I should haqve said that affect the things that I say now are really the things that I have said, and I really mean that!
Let me end by stating that I need your vote and an willing to do anything to get it and I mean anything! I am glad to have been so honest and straightforward with you today, unlike my sleaze ball competition who is not honest with his promises, My ambitions are sincere. Thank you for your vote.
Monday, October 26, 2009
MY TRUE SURVIVAL STORY
Everyone needs to learn survival
By
LEO PONDER
I leaped the log in hot pursuit, tree limbs slapping my face, my home made spear at the ready. Bramble burrs snatched at my trousers, reducing my speed, but with surges of super effort, I managed to keep my prey in sight.
I was nearly dead with hunger and I knew that this might be my last really
good chance to snare a decent meal. I had been reduced to some kind of pre-historic monster forced kill for my food. In other better times, I would have been nauseated by the level of savagery that I had now sunk. I had no qualms about what I would do if I caught this prey. I would snap the neck, tear out the heart and wolf down my spoils with much relish and blood.
Suddenly, I came upon a clearing that ended at the brushy banks of a river just in time to see my prey disappear in the brush. In two or three bounds I crossed the clearing to the spot where it had entered. My heart dropped. It wasn’t a river, just a small stream. It would escape by running downstream. What rotten luck! He would have been trapped if it had been a river!
But I hadn’t been trained by the best to be outwitted by even such an intelligent animal as this. An animal that was so ferocious that nothing could withstand it’s attack. I knew exactly now what it was up to. It was not running but circling to gain an advantage. I had to admire it, even though at the moment we were mortal enemies.
I wheeled and headed across the clearing to cut him off downstream. It was my only hope. This species had never been known to cut a chase and run scared. It didn’t ever consider itself prey. That’s how many had died violent deaths, just at the moment of seeming victory.
It was legend that this particular beast had psychic powers that defied
Explanation. Probably not true but I seemed to hear my name from a distance during the chase. If it was true I would just have to ignore it. I remembered the old adage, “Sticks and stones (and beasts) will break my bones, but names will never hurt me.”
Crossing the clearing to the right I slid down the bank into the small stream, my heart thudding like jungle drums announcing terrible news. What if I was wrong? What if the beast went upstream instead of down? But that would be stupid. They know their scent would wash downstream giving away their location. Firmly anchored in my survival techniques, I decided that I was in exactly the right spot.
I found a flat heavy rock with a deep hole in the middle and pushed the butt of my home made spear firmly into the indentation. I positioned the rock on the stream bed with the spear pointing straight up. On my knees I grabbed the spear firmly in both hands. Now I had a strong, deadly trap that would easily pierce the toughest skin. If and when the beast sprang, and these always did, I would guide the spear straight to his heart
Sitting quietly, I noticed that darkness was not long off. I could not see to the far end of the stream but considered that an advantage. If the beast came close without seeing me, then I could pull the old surprise bit by making a sudden noise when he was close, he would spring from instinct and without any caution.
Suddenly, again, I heard my name. This time it was very close. O.K. names won’t hurt. I cut my breathing to small gulps but my heart wouldn’t co-operate. It felt like a sledgehammer.
This was it! Here he comes! Moving so stealthily and furtively, he seemed to be part of the stream. Thank God for my training. He stopped very near, huge gathering muscles preparing for attack. He had seen me but I could still use the spear for the strike. My name-My name, right behind me. He must be trying to confuse me so he can spring! So that’s how so many have lost their battle with this brute. And never lived to tell anyone. But I will be smarter, I will not look behind me. I will kill this thing and live.
He sprang! Something behind me cuffed my ear and I broke the spear in the rock where it fell useless, into the rippling stream.
Watching the beast in mid air, knowing I had only a split second to live, I at least wanted to know what had caused my demise. I twisted to look behind and seen the most awful sight a small boy could behold in those circumstances. My Mother!!
Hey! Hey! I’ve been calling and calling. Sakes alive, boy, can’t you hear at all! There’s more of that you just got on your ear when we get home. Get up out of that water. I done told you not play in this creek again. Now trot yourself straight home and call that good for nothing dog with you. He’s just as muddy as you. Lord, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you two. You’re going to take your bath and go straight to bed without any supper.”
If she had been only a few minutes later, and not interfered I would have had my supper.
By
LEO PONDER
I leaped the log in hot pursuit, tree limbs slapping my face, my home made spear at the ready. Bramble burrs snatched at my trousers, reducing my speed, but with surges of super effort, I managed to keep my prey in sight.
I was nearly dead with hunger and I knew that this might be my last really
good chance to snare a decent meal. I had been reduced to some kind of pre-historic monster forced kill for my food. In other better times, I would have been nauseated by the level of savagery that I had now sunk. I had no qualms about what I would do if I caught this prey. I would snap the neck, tear out the heart and wolf down my spoils with much relish and blood.
Suddenly, I came upon a clearing that ended at the brushy banks of a river just in time to see my prey disappear in the brush. In two or three bounds I crossed the clearing to the spot where it had entered. My heart dropped. It wasn’t a river, just a small stream. It would escape by running downstream. What rotten luck! He would have been trapped if it had been a river!
But I hadn’t been trained by the best to be outwitted by even such an intelligent animal as this. An animal that was so ferocious that nothing could withstand it’s attack. I knew exactly now what it was up to. It was not running but circling to gain an advantage. I had to admire it, even though at the moment we were mortal enemies.
I wheeled and headed across the clearing to cut him off downstream. It was my only hope. This species had never been known to cut a chase and run scared. It didn’t ever consider itself prey. That’s how many had died violent deaths, just at the moment of seeming victory.
It was legend that this particular beast had psychic powers that defied
Explanation. Probably not true but I seemed to hear my name from a distance during the chase. If it was true I would just have to ignore it. I remembered the old adage, “Sticks and stones (and beasts) will break my bones, but names will never hurt me.”
Crossing the clearing to the right I slid down the bank into the small stream, my heart thudding like jungle drums announcing terrible news. What if I was wrong? What if the beast went upstream instead of down? But that would be stupid. They know their scent would wash downstream giving away their location. Firmly anchored in my survival techniques, I decided that I was in exactly the right spot.
I found a flat heavy rock with a deep hole in the middle and pushed the butt of my home made spear firmly into the indentation. I positioned the rock on the stream bed with the spear pointing straight up. On my knees I grabbed the spear firmly in both hands. Now I had a strong, deadly trap that would easily pierce the toughest skin. If and when the beast sprang, and these always did, I would guide the spear straight to his heart
Sitting quietly, I noticed that darkness was not long off. I could not see to the far end of the stream but considered that an advantage. If the beast came close without seeing me, then I could pull the old surprise bit by making a sudden noise when he was close, he would spring from instinct and without any caution.
Suddenly, again, I heard my name. This time it was very close. O.K. names won’t hurt. I cut my breathing to small gulps but my heart wouldn’t co-operate. It felt like a sledgehammer.
This was it! Here he comes! Moving so stealthily and furtively, he seemed to be part of the stream. Thank God for my training. He stopped very near, huge gathering muscles preparing for attack. He had seen me but I could still use the spear for the strike. My name-My name, right behind me. He must be trying to confuse me so he can spring! So that’s how so many have lost their battle with this brute. And never lived to tell anyone. But I will be smarter, I will not look behind me. I will kill this thing and live.
He sprang! Something behind me cuffed my ear and I broke the spear in the rock where it fell useless, into the rippling stream.
Watching the beast in mid air, knowing I had only a split second to live, I at least wanted to know what had caused my demise. I twisted to look behind and seen the most awful sight a small boy could behold in those circumstances. My Mother!!
Hey! Hey! I’ve been calling and calling. Sakes alive, boy, can’t you hear at all! There’s more of that you just got on your ear when we get home. Get up out of that water. I done told you not play in this creek again. Now trot yourself straight home and call that good for nothing dog with you. He’s just as muddy as you. Lord, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you two. You’re going to take your bath and go straight to bed without any supper.”
If she had been only a few minutes later, and not interfered I would have had my supper.
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