2022 Quotes

Meritocracy So many talented people with no contacts. So many people with contacts without talent.

This life is a virtual simulation game where you can win or lose, you can continue playing for the rest of your life or join the club. You decide! You only have to respect one rule because your stay in the human farm will depend on that, continue playing until the end no matter how many times you are brought into this reality, so stay awake with your eyes wide open and your mouth tight shut." Welcome to the game of life, welcome to the matrix.

How in hell did those bombers get up there every single second of our lives! Why doesn't someone want to talk about it! We've started and won two atomic wars since 2022! Is it because we're having so much fun at home we've forgotten the world? Is it because we're so rich and the rest of the world's so poor and we just don't care if they are? I've heard rumors; the world is starving, but we're well fed. Is it true, the world works hard and we play? Is that why we're hated so much? I've heard the rumors about hate too, once in a long while, over the years. Do you know why? I don't, that's sure! Maybe the books can get us half out of the cave. They just might stop us from making the same damn insane mistakes!

So don't ask people to be nicer unless they're abusive, unless they're the abusers. And if they are, maybe the nicest thing you can do in 2022 is kindly, gently, read them the so-called riot act. And warn them a riot may be coming their way.

If you sharpen your attention and learn to see beyond mere vision, you will discover that the heart, in its wise union with the mind, can transcend the barrier of the apparent with a single deep look.

It is a measure of how long enslavement lasted in the United States that the year 2022 marks the first year that the United States will have been an independent nation for as long as slavery lasted on its soil. No current-day adult will be alive in the year in which African-Americans as a group will have been free for as long as they had been enslaved. That will not come until the year 2111.

Take chances. Love deeply and freely. Rewards are in the risks.

We’ve started and won two atomic wars since 2022! Is it because we’re having so much fun at home we’ve forgotten the world? Is it because we’re so rich and the rest of the world’s so poor and we just don’t care if they are? I’ve heard rumors; the world is starving, but we’re well fed. Is it true, the world works hard and we play? Is that why we’re hated so much? I’ve heard the rumors about hate, too, once in a long while, over the years. Do you know why? I don’t, that’s sure!

Hope. Could there be hope in this city? And if there could, could I allow it in me?

I have managed to find mention of a small nuclear attack dated to the year 2022 CE.

Here in this file are the pieces of my broken spirit...I keep trying to go back. To understand, how? Why? Could it be so painful to be alive?

I wait for a hint of dawn, to know that I've made it through another night. Einstein only took naps. You're okay. Shhh. Just breathe,

As the economy evolves and new technologies emerge that change the way value is exchanged, the kinds of things that we call assets also evolve and change. Assets in 2022 encompass a much broader scope of things than assets in 1922. And assets in 2050 will include new things that maybe don't even exist today or old things that have new roles. The definition of an assets doesn't change, but the kinds of things that are assets changes as society changes.

Scarecrow's scare, That's what they do.

to quote George Orwell: “If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.” And to quote him again: three words: Tell. The. Truth.

YAH (2022)? Ik weet één ding, dat ik niets weet

YAH (2022)? Εν οίδα ότι ουδέν οίδα

The strength of an artist lies in how much of themselves they are prepared to reveal in their art.' Iain Cameron Williams, 2021, 'Other People's Dreams' to be published in 2022.

To all of you here, I wish you a very Happy New Year and I look forward to seeing you in 2022. All the best.

Every hour so many damn things in the sky! How in hell did those bombers get up there every single second of our lives! Why doesn't someone want to talk about it! We've started and won two atomic wars since 2022! Is it because we're having so much fun at home we've forgotten the world? Is it because we're so rich and the rest of the world's so poor and we just don't care if they are? I've heard rumors; the world is starving, but we're well fed. Is it true, the world works hard and we play? Is that why we're hated so much? I've heard the rumors about hate, too, once in a long while, over the years...Maybe the books can get us half out of the cave. They just might stop us from making the same damn insane mistakes!

The best predictor of success is grit. How you choose to respond to life’s trials—your uncommon moments—is everything.

She treads like a shadow and stalks like a dream...terribly close, but always out of reach.

Εν οίδα ότι ουδέν οίδα

In 2023, as I write this, librarians in America are on the front lines of the culture war. Censorship is at an all-time high. According to the American Library Association’s Office for Intellectual Freedom, “a record 2,571 unique titles were targeted for censorship in 2022, a 38% increase from the 1,858 unique titles targeted for censorship in 2021.” This is the highest number of attempted book bans since ALA began compiling data about censorship in libraries more than twenty years ago.

Alistair MacLeod has said, writers write about what worries them,

There's this feeling once you leave where you are from that you don't totally belong there again.

Purposeful living is a strong indicator of happiness. Live big. Believe bigger. Thrive always.

Learning begins when the learner feels safe and comfortable; provide an atmosphere of safety and comfort. And keep trying!

Don't wait until February to start living in January.

How can anybody be okay, when some pompous, puffed-up, maladjusted, addlepated, blowhards keep impeding efforts of equality and assimilation, as if it's not 2022 AD, but 2022 BC!

next half dozen papers went from July 14, 2022, to July 7, 1837 (Headline: ONLY ONE HUNDRED YEARS TILL THE DEATH OF HARLOW!)

The Universe always conspires to inspire." A'na's Gift (Pieces to the Puzzle) 2022 by Sherri Bridges Fox

It's 2022 as I write this and I'm still waiting to find someone I respect to speak openly and in detail about meltdowns. I'm really annoyed that I have to be the one to do this.

Those times we refused each other, we seemed to disappear. — Richard Jackson, from “Unable to Refuse,” The Heart as Framed: New and Select Poems (Press 53, 2022)

There are desires we haven’t named yet, loves so impossible they have to be true. — Richard Jackson, from “Incompleteness,” The Heart as Framed: New and Selected Poems (Press 53, 2022)

With the status of greentech technology in 2022, in most cases that parallel system is a boring, conventional system that runs on either natural gas or coal. Let me underline that: greentech today is so unreliable in most locations that those localities that do attempt greentech have no choice but to maintain a full conventional system for their total peak demand—at full cost.

This is a pattern humankind has repeated many times over the course of its history. When there is a crisis, whether real or imagined, culprits—whether real or imagined—must be found and eliminated.

Let your new energy, new thoughts, new attitude, new routine & new outlook make this time most sacred, memorable & beautiful for you & others. Let you also begin to see greater in everything & believe in unexplainable possibilities. Let you grow in ways which you never knew was possible. Darling listen – Don’t let the magic in the air get swallowed up by someone’s nonsensical thoughts, words, comments & by any kind of pressure in the air. I wish & pray that these last few days of this year be the best part of this year for you & everyone! Stay Healthy, Happy & Meaningful! Blessings!

People with resilience, coping capabilities, and emotional intelligence are more likely to have better overall well-being than those with lower resilience, and better life satisfaction” (Hurley, 2022).

Today, a new life begins. A new promise is made. Like you, I am reborn. My pain will be my power. It geysers out of me. It floods me with rage. I will make them pay. I will walk them to the gates of hell.

A Blackberry Winter by Stewart Stafford Pond ice beneath the hawthorn tree, Reeds grasping from the frigid sculpture, Freezing fog clinging to land and foliage, Nature hindered but still in amelioration. Horses in crunching frosted footsteps march, To break the water trough's thick glaze, And drink thirstily in raw, jagged gulps, Until the thaw smoothes itself upon milder days. A swan slips and skates on the icicled river, Hoarfrost-encrusted rocks a guard of honour, The Anatidae ascension, maladroit but effective, Sure to pluck better days from its plumed reign. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

The global population growth rate – the change from one year to the next – peaked a long time ago. In the 1960s it was growing at more than 2% per year.17 Since then, this rate has more than halved, to 0.8% in 2022.

October's Double by Stewart Stafford Light a fire in flinty February, As the evening time comes down, Welcome all the family home With shopping bought from town. Hear the logs crackle and roll, And the sparks pop and hiss, A storm roars down the chimney, To deliver its tempestuous kiss. Drowsiness in the living room, As the expiring embers fade, Up we go to those clean sheets, And beds so neatly made. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

In his consolidation of power, Xi has taken more than a dozen titles for himself, including chairman of a new national security council and commander in chief of the military, a title that even Mao was never given. And he has had himself anointed China’s “Core Leader”—a term symbolic of his centrality to the state that Hu had allowed to lapse. Most significant, as of this writing Xi appears to be setting the stage to defy traditional term limits and remain in power beyond 2022.27

I write for you, for me, for the 70% of us who make up the fabric of society: ordinary people with extraordinary lives, who play the roles of parents, siblings, children, neighbors and friends. We are those who work and study with tenacity, those who with effort and dedication bring sustenance to our homes, my novels and stories of horror, suspense and mystery are designed for the emerging generations, for those readers who seek freshness in literature and who feel distant from traditional literature, with its labyrinth of ostentatious and complex words that often alienate the average citizen..., I write for the marginalized, for those who have felt that literature does not offer them a mirror in which to reflect themselves, for those who seek in the pages a refuge or an acknowledgement of their existence, I write for the free and critical spirits, for the innate rebels who question the structures and narratives of our civilization, I write for the dreamers who imagine a world beyond the reach of politics and corporations, for those who resist being molded by the great machines of entertainment that seek to numb our minds and wills; It is my voice, through writing, that seeks to resonate with yours, inviting you on a literary journey where together we explore the confines of our reality and the abysses of our imagination.

The game of death began on November 6, 2022. It was now late October 2024. Almost two years later, there was still no sign of rescue, no messages from outside. All we could do was survive day by day, getting closer to the top, one step at a time.

Some Cutting Advice by Stewart Stafford Before you pick up your knife, To run your enemy through, Know the entry wound bleeds red, And the exit thrust bleeds blue. Not because they are of noble birth, But they are protected by a mighty hand, Not just of those moneyed and influential, But the mightiest hands in all the land. So stab with caution, I urge you, For the blade jabs back in your gut, Swallow the bile that fuels you so, Lest it be your throat you cut. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

Transient orcas?” Beck leaned toward the monitor as images of whales flashed on screen. “Subspecies of killer whale,” said Ring. “Highly specialized. Extraordinarily lethal—if you happen to be a seal. Transient orcas eat only mammals. Seals, sea lions, sea otters, porpoises, other whales. Sometimes they’ll help themselves to a swimming moose or deer, as well. No fish, though. They hate fish.

Night's Pleasure Veil by Stewart Stafford A kiss, that beauteous wound, Struck by love's yielding blade, Feel the arrow's welcome strike, As we roam in life's ecstatic glade. Memories momentarily wiped, As the lover's lips become parted, Then at sea again in sensory squalls, Where passion's spark first started. A stranger interrupts adoration's swell, Desire's mask of reality swiftly donned, Vows to reunify in night's pleasure veil, Longing looks, and the flames are gone. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

If you’re white and you’re wrong, you’re wrong. If you’re black and you’re wrong, you’re wrong. People are people. Black, blue, pink, green—God makes no rules about color … only society makes such rules. That is why we must have redemption and have it now.”   - Bob Marley

Deep in the collective psyche, religious sectors, beset by morality and tormented by their own inner shadows, issue a silent plea to the great system that rules our lives. They desperately seek to avoid the incandescent glare of truth, fearing that its revealing light will free them from the chains they themselves have forged. Thus they remain in a state of denial. Thus they live, clinging like sows to the gestation of their perversities, as if in that fertile soil they would find the seed of their salvation."--From the book The Devil's Writer

As of February 2022, it has been four years since my diagnosis. And I wouldn’t describe myself as healed from complex PTSD. I wouldn’t even say I am in remission. I’ve learned that the beast of C-PTSD is a wily shape-shifter. Just when I believe I can see the ghoul for exactly what it is, it dissipates like a puff of smoke, then slithers into another crevice in the back of my mind. I know now it will emerge again in another form in a month or a week or two hours from now. Because loss is the one guaranteed constant in life, and since my trauma reliably resurfaces with grief, C-PTSD will be constant, too. Rage will always coat the tip of my tongue. I will always walk with a steel plate around my heart. My smile will always waver among strangers and my feet will always be ready to run. In the past few years, my joints have continued to rust and swell. I cannot transfuse the violence out of my blood.

For the first time since 1860, a major American political party doesn’t believe America is a democracy. No Republican will win a contested primary in 2022 or 2024 who will assert that Biden is a legal president. The effect of this is profound and difficult to predict. But millions of Americans believe the American experiment is ending. Stuart Stevens

Epicurus says the obvious, that we need each pleasure up to the degree that we feel no pain from the absence of it.

You saved the parts of me that didn't matter!

Ain’t easy for a child to use their free will when adults dance with the devil.

7Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up and choked the plants.

22The seed falling among the thorns refers to someone who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke the word, making it unfruitful

You can’t do anything about the length of your life, but you can do something about its width and depth.

I miss when my future was more interesting to me than my past,

I walk through the dream again and again, each time ironing out any wrinkles that may occur, till I can see it perfectly. Judgement day is finally here!

Беше онова специално време в края на годината, когато светът става малко по-добър и белоснежен, а чудесата – възможни…

A fire. A fire is burning inside me. The lights are coming on again. All these rooms. Dark. Abandoned. Alive again.

No one is coming, so what are you going to do about it?

How do they go on...in a city that tells them day after day that they are fractured and broken...that there is no way out or up?

In 2022, more than three years after stopping puberty blockers, Jacob is 19 and still trans. He uses a male name and male pronouns, and dresses in a way that he says is typically male. His passport and driving license say male. But he’s not on any medication. He hasn’t chosen to take testosterone and has no plans to. ‘I’m quite content with just being me at the moment.

Boeing To Gravity by Stewart Stafford Tumbling down a hill, An upside-down idyll, No time to make a will, If prematurely killed. And as you tumble down, Slowly fades your frown, Falling ankle over crown, Rolling all the way to town. Reach the end with a bump, Sporting that fetching lump, And to your feet, you jump, As excited fists both pump. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved

Dr. Cameron is hoping to release a new digital and audio book by the end of December 2022. This book summarizes Dr. Cameron’s understanding of Lyme disease based on his first 600 Lyme disease science blogs and 35+ years of treating Lyme disease patients. The book includes over 200 published Lyme disease cases. There is also space at the end of this book to share your comments and engage with Dr. Cameron

Still, pouring jizz into a baggie tube hanging from my dick while inside someone is strange as hell. But a good strange. I mean, the alternative is not having sex. And I’m now fucking addicted to fucking.

Oh.” Her voice sounded small, and her eyes began to water. I halted in horror as not one but two tears spilled down her cheeks. “Are you … are you crying?” I did not know what to do with a weeping woman.

A book was published in 2021 that had received financial backing from Elbit. The Bulgarian Army and the Rescue of Bulgaria’s Jews, 1941–1944 is a revisionist history that falsely claims that the Bulgarian state saved Jews during World War Two. Elbit wanted to get a foothold in the Bulgarian arms market. Raz Segal and Amos Goldberg, “Distorting the Holocaust to Boost the International Arms Trade,” Nation, July 26, 2022.

As they began to sing and praise, the Lord set ambushes against the men . . . who were invading Judah, and they were defeated. (2 Chronicles 20:22) Oh, if only we would worry less about our problems and sing and praise more!

In Plain Sight by Stewart Stafford How can I show the real me? My voice breaking as I speak, Parched hope's cracked lips, Delphic in this solitary chic. Vitriol cannot reach my shore, The purge reveals little to hide, Or does rage fester within me? A cannibal cheerleader inside. No father around guiding me, Burnt by mother's acid divide, Cataracts of persona non grata, A transient hat tipped in a lie. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

In Green Grandeur by Stewart Stafford Under towers of green pillars, Grow those leafed palaces, Stretching out their tall limbs, Up skyward in thanksgiving. Saplings with peacock foliage, A forest floor carpeted thickly, With dead leaves, kindling and, Subterranean roots peeking out. Storm-crooked trunks stooping, To the lightning-shattered bows, Fingers of dying sunlight reach, To caress the ivy-entwined bark. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved

The Inevitable Tide by Stewart Stafford The inevitable tide comes, To claim every one of us, Whether sufficient breath of life, Is inhaled deep or forsaken. Then let them bend and screech, Their hearsay and homilies, To rake the ashes of earthly remains, In our final resting place. The person no longer lingers, Gone to Paradise or Hell, Purgatory or mere rotting decay, A ghostly rose bled white on binding soil. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

Luxury beliefs’ are the latest status symbol for rich Americans” by Rob Henderson New York Post, August 3, 2022 In the past, upper-class Americans used to display their social status with luxury goods. Today, they do it with luxury beliefs. People care a lot about social status. In fact, research indicates that respect and admiration from our peers are even more important than money for our sense of well-being. ...as trendy clothes and other products become more accessible and affordable, there is increasingly less status attached to luxury goods. The upper classes have found a clever solution to this problem: luxury beliefs. These are ideas and opinions that confer status on the rich at very little cost, while taking a toll on the lower class. ‘Upper-class people don a luxury belief to separate themselves from the lower class’ ... White privilege is the luxury belief that took me the longest to understand, because I grew up around poor whites. Often members of the upper-class claim that racial disparities stem from inherent advantages held by whites. Yet Asian Americans are more educated, have higher earnings and live longer than whites. Affluent whites are the most enthusiastic about the idea of white privilege, yet they are the least likely to incur any costs for promoting that belief. Rather, they raise their social standing by talking about their privilege. In other words, upper-class whites gain status by talking about their high status. When laws are enacted to combat white privilege, it won’t be the privileged whites who are harmed. Poor whites will bear the brunt. ... like with diamond rings or designer clothes of old, upper-class people don a luxury belief to separate themselves from the lower class. These beliefs, in turn, produce real, tangible consequences for disadvantaged people, further widening the divide.

Patience Thinner by Stewart Stafford You are a pain in the pancreas, Dagger in my medulla oblongata, The hindmost listing straggler, In the mind's eye's neural regatta. The second wheel of a unicycle, The third eye blind of a cyclops, Banana skin for a monkey's uncle, And a barber to overgrown mops You are thermals in a heatwave, An umbrella when the rain stops, A quiet tailor in a nudist camp, And shoe polish for flip-flops. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

I am about to reveal to you an arcane, unfathomable mystery that has never been whispered by mortal lips or displayed on the hallowed shelves where the venerable masters of science discuss their theories with uncompromising rigour. I am about to entrust you with a secret that will drastically alter your perception of existence, a knowledge so potent that upon its discovery, your human essence will resist its comprehension, fearful of the overwhelming luminosity and its permanence on this earthly plane; When, as if by magic, these words pass through the barrier of your heart and establish a link with your mind to revitalise your consciousness, it will be time to cast off the chains of moral slavery and tear your soul into a thousand fragments, allowing the divine light to recompose and transform it, Do you long to know the secret? Well, place your hand on the centre of your chest, inhale deeply at a slower than usual pace and whisper to your heart: "I AM FREE"--From The Devil's Writer

The Chattering Season by Stewart Stafford Hear a fearsome banshee's wail, From a dank bog or Celtic dale, Like the pulling of the rat's tail, In the whistle of a thrashing gale. In this skittish son of Mc's room, A death knell tolls out his doom, A cursed shadow now does loom, Her spirit bride's unwilling groom. The stark evening's grim messenger, She's a maelstrom's fatal passenger, Howls from last breath's harbinger, No dowry for this eternal dowager. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

The Sniper Bird by Stewart Stafford "Look out!" the crowd shouted to me, "There's a Sniper Bird in those trees!" A whooshing sound shot past my ears, Making me duck down to my knees. He must have gone rogue, I reckoned, Someone cheated him over birdseed, Then he took a squirrel as his hostage, Get a negotiator quickly up those trees. He threw up his wings and surrendered, They brought him down in a gilded cage, Never again sniping at innocent people, He studies elocution with a parrot sage. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

No matter how valuable something good may be, it is desirable only if it contributes to happiness. An Epicurean maxim stresses this point in a dramatic tone: “The good and the virtues and the like are worthy of honor when they bring joy. If they do not bring joy, let it go.

Dear Public Health Officials: With 68% of the world’s population vaccinated and 13-billion doses administered, if the vaccines are safe and effective, how do you explain that the overwhelming number of COVID deaths –and all the highest peaks in deaths– occurred after commencement of mass vaccination?

Truth or Care by Stewart Stafford It's not every day you find out you're going to die, A sweaty doctor hit me right between the eyes, With my body's Judas kiss and then I was prey, Life had left me without any cards to play. Reading the shocked expression on my face, The doctor played his "it's treatable" ace, Treatable is good but curable is better, Survival hinges on the placement of letters. Turns out I never had a chance, sadly, The doctor lied to me and lied badly, Flop sweat had put truth to the sword, And I'm writing all this through a ouija board. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

I write for you, for me, for the 70% of us who make up the fabric of society: ordinary people with extraordinary lives, who play the roles of parents, siblings, children, neighbours and friends. We are those who work and study with tenacity, those who with effort and dedication bring sustenance to our homes, my novels and stories of horror, suspense and mystery are designed for the emerging generations, for those readers who seek freshness in literature and who feel distanced from traditional literature, with its labyrinth of ostentatious and complex words that often alienate the average citizen..., I write for the marginalised, for those who have felt that literature does not offer them a mirror in which to reflect themselves, for those who seek in the pages a refuge or an acknowledgement of their existence, I write for the free and critical spirits, for the innate rebels who question the structures and narratives of our civilisation, I write for the dreamers who imagine a world beyond the reach of politics and corporations, for those who resist being moulded by the great entertainment machines that seek to numb our minds and wills; It is my voice, through writing, that seeks to resonate with yours, inviting you on a literary journey where together we explore the confines of our reality and the abysses of our imagination".

In 2022, New York Times columnist Tish Harrison Warren decried a culture of divorcing for unhappiness, writing, “I want to normalize significant periods of confusion, exhaustion, grief and unfulfillment in marriage. There’s an older couple I know who are in their fifth decade of marriage. They are funny and kind and, by almost any standard, the picture of #relationshipgoals. Early on in our marriage they told us, ‘There are times in marriage when the Bible’s call to love your enemies and the call to love your spouse are the same call.’ ” Life is, of course, not easy, and no one is going to like their partner every day. But Warren’s column makes misery in marriage sound like a necessary evil of being partnered with a man. It’s not. I refuse to believe that it has to be that way. I have two dear friends who I have known for over twenty years; we fight sometimes and disagree. Between us we’ve had three divorces and four marriages and three children. Never once have they felt like the enemy to me. And if it is that way, if the experience of being with a man means I hate him for at least a third of our marriage and he hates me, too, I’d rather not have it. No, thank you. There is no benefit to that martyrdom. To me, columns like Warren’s sound like the mentality that enables hazing rituals and cults where they sacrifice one of their own every fortnight. I was miserable, so you should be, too. I do not want that curse. I want happiness.

Thus already pre-loaded, as it were, with verbal scrambled eggs, and, not incidentally, well primed to be a coiner of neologisms later in life, I entered my adolescent years. We were not taught languages properly then. There were no language labs—it was all written work—and we had no access to the vocabularies of swearing or sex. Think how much more interesting French would have been with a few choice Madame Bovary excerpts, or Latin with a sampling of the more outrageous epigrams of Martial! But it was not to be. Caesar droned on about himself in the third person, conquering this, overthrowing that, while we drew arms on the Venus de Milo in the textbook; and in French class, the pen of my aunt rested inexorably on the desk, in the past, the past perfect, and the future perfect.

Being born without a limb or losing one in an accident will soon not be a major disadvantage. As technology improves at a fast rate, these may even augment normal human capabilities. The real question facing us is not whether technology will be able to help such patients, but how to persuade healthy people in the near future not to change their own limbs to smart, state–of–the–art prosthetics.

Participatory Medicine is a model of cooperative health care that seeks to achieve active involvement by patients, professionals, caregivers, and others across the continuum of care on all issues related to an individual’s health. Participatory medicine is an ethical approach to care that also holds promise to improve outcomes, reduce medical errors, increase patient satisfaction and improve the cost of care.

Christ our Passover Pascha nostrum 1 Corinthians 5: 7-8; Romans 6: 9-11; 1 Corinthians 15: 20-22 Alleluia. Christ our Passover has been sacrificed for us; * therefore let us keep the feast, Not with the old leaven, the leaven of malice and evil, * but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth. Alleluia. Christ being raised from the dead will never die again; * death no longer has dominion over him. The death that he died, he died to sin, once for all; * but the life he lives, he lives to God. So also consider yourselves dead to sin, * and alive to God in Jesus Christ our Lord. Alleluia. Christ has been raised from the dead, * the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep. For since by a man came death, * by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, * so also in Christ shall all be made alive. Alleluia.

Brothers and sisters: If there is any encouragement in Christ, any solace in love, any participation in the Spirit, any compassion and mercy, complete my joy by being of the same mind, with the same love, united in heart, thinking one thing. Do nothing out of selfishness or out of vainglory; rather, humbly regard others as more important than yourselves, each looking out not for his own interests, but also everyone for those of others.

In her book The Government-Citizen Disconnect, the political scientist Suzanne Mettler reports that 96 percent of American adults have relied on a major government program at some point in their lives. Rich, middle-class, and poor families depend on different kinds of programs, but the average rich and middle-class family draws on the same number of government benefits as the average poor family. Student loans look like they were issued from a bank, but the only reason banks hand out money to eighteen-year-olds with no jobs, no credit, and no collateral is because the federal government guarantees the loans and pays half their interest. Financial advisers at Edward Jones or Prudential can help you sign up for 529 college savings plans, but those plans' generous tax benefits will cost the federal government an estimated $28.5 billion between 2017 and 2026. For most Americans under the age of sixty-five, health insurance appears to come from their jobs, but supporting this arrangement is one of the single largest tax breaks issued by the federal government, one that exempts the cost of employer-sponsored health insurance from taxable incomes. In 2022, this benefit is estimated to have cost the government $316 billion for those under sixty-five. By 2032, its price tag is projected to exceed $6oo billion. Almost half of all Americans receive government-subsidized health benefits through their employers, and over a third are enrolled in government-subsidized retirement benefits. These participation rates, driven primarily by rich and middle-class Americans, far exceed those of even the largest programs directed at low income families, such as food stamps (14 percent of Americans) and the Earned Income Tax Credit (19 percent). Altogether, the United States spent $1.8 trillion on tax breaks in 2021. That amount exceeded total spending on law enforcement, education, housing, healthcare, diplomacy, and everything else that makes up our discretionary budget. Roughly half the benefits of the thirteen largest individual tax breaks accrue to the richest families, those with incomes that put them in the top 20 percent. The top I percent of income earners take home more than all middle-class families and double that of families in the bottom 20 percent. I can't tell you how many times someone has informed me that we should reduce military spending and redirect the savings to the poor. When this suggestion is made in a public venue, it always garners applause. I've met far fewer people who have suggested we boost aid to the poor by reducing tax breaks that mostly benefit the upper class, even though we spend over twice as much on them as on the military and national defense.

there were at least three that we know of, public efforts and proposals by Russia to be considered for Nato membership, begin the process. And all of those were turned down. So the prospect moving forward was of Nato being the non-Russia, the security organization aimed at Excluding Russia from European security.... as John Mearsheimer will tell you, it's not about what people claim, it's about what the other side believes that you might do to them.

This Butterfly Stings by Stewart Stafford The gold of my eye dances on stage for me, Her wings wafting behind her in the chorus, Yet none glimpsed that girl's beauty as I did, This butterfly flew solo in my mind's eye. For two years hence, I concealed my interest, Yet I gazed at her endlessly, so close yet apart, Places of learning changed, but she did not, I foolishly let fly Cupid's token to my inamorata. Seeing my love in a looking glass reflected, Shadow feelings illuminated St Valentine's Eve, My butterfly became a sullen stinging bee, Crushing my tender rose in pieces at my feet. Nor would her wicked scorn end there, She told her friends who joined in my shaming, For years after, turning my last shreds of adoration, Into contemptuous hatred of her existence. Truly no one can take away our memories, Where my former crush still dances on occasion, O sweet butterfly of my youth, one last wish, Never fly away from these fond recollections. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

Nevasta lui Vasile era prima la care văşcencile aflate în necaz alergau să caute ajutor. Justiţia pe toate le oblojea. Cunoştea toate plantele tămăduitoare şi le recomanda împotriva aleanului şi amărăciunii, dar şi pentru durerile de cap sau de stomac – de la sunătoare, tei, muşeţel, la ghimbir şi usturoi. Cu mandragora făcea de dragoste fetelor bătrâne. Veronica îi povestise odată Lianei că auzise ea că profesoara ei de franceză, femeie singură-cuc, de peste treizeci de ani, slabă, înaltă şi gălbejită, dar cochetă şi citită, disperată că nu-şi găseşte ursitul, se dusese la Justiţia să-i ghicească în cărţi. După ce Justiţia o primi cu „săru-mânuşiţa cuconiţă, mânca-te-ar mama, că frumoasă mai eşti, ptiu să nu te deochi!”, de o dădu pe biata profesoară gata cu atâtea linguşeli, o aşeză la masa ciuntă, cu picioarele crăcănate şi descumpănite, de se clătina la orice mişcare, pe un scaun ştirb, scoase cărţile, şi, amestecându-le, începu a boscorodi: - Douăzeci şi patru de cărți în douăzeci şi patru de părți, să vă împărțiți și să-mi ghiciți... (Regasirea, 2022)

Anger was something that long puzzled Le Guin. In her 2014 essay “About Anger,” she writes: Anger is a useful, perhaps indispensable tool in motivating resistance to injustice. But I think it is a weapon—a tool useful only in combat and self-defence….Anger points powerfully to the denial of rights, but the exercise of rights can’t live and thrive on anger. It lives and thrives on the dogged pursuit of justice….Valued as an end in itself, it loses its goal. It fuels not positive activism but regression, obsession, vengeance, self-righteousness.

A clinic in Bolivia 140 kilometers from the nearest city prints out splints and prostheses when supplies are low. The cost per piece runs about 2 cents for the plastic. This might allow developing nations to circumvent having to import large numbers of supplies. Already, 3D printing is occurring in underdeveloped areas. “Not Impossible Labs” based in Venice, California took 3D printers to Sudan where the chaos of war has left many people with amputated limbs. The organization’s founder, Mick Ebeling, trained locals how to operate the machinery, create patient–specific limbs, and fit these new, very inexpensive prosthetics.

They say the world will end soon. They say that the nuclear weapons made, Due to fearing ‘the other’, Have become a curse, a plague, a scourge On those who made them Even more than those they were made to scare... And I wonder: Will the nuclear weapons be the cause of the world’s end? Or will the world’s end be caused by humanity’s fear, complicity, and submission? And if what they say is true, Before the world ends and before I die, I wish to drink one last cup of cardamom-flavored tea Taste one last fig, peach, or apricot, Smell a quince, Dip one last piece of bread In Palestinian thyme and olive oil… Before the world ends, I wish to smell a few pine needles, To breathe the smell of the first rain shower After a long, hot, and dry summer… Before the world ends and before I die, I wish to read one more book Out of the thousands of books that I still want to read… Before the world ends and before I die, I ask for one more spring To smell bunches of Iraqi narcissus flowers. I want to live one more autumn, To enjoy the magical colors Of the dying leaves on the trees As they challenge death with beauty Right before falling on the grounds of indifference… But my biggest wish before I die is For my death not to be the end of the world… [Original poem published in Arabic by ahewar.org on October 13, 2022]

What do we want? Here’s a partial list. We want the purse that will always be filled with gold. We want the Fountain of Youth. We want to fly. We want the table that will cover itself with delicious food whenever we say the word, and that will clean up afterwards. We want invisible servants we’ll never have to pay. We want the seven-league boots so we can get places very quickly. We want the Cloak of Invisibility so we can snoop on other people without being seen. We want the weapon that will never miss, and that will destroy our enemies utterly. We want to punish injustice. We want power. We want excitement and adventure; we want safety and security. We want to be immortal. We want to have a large number of sexually attractive partners. We want those we love to love us in return, and to be loyal to us. We want cute, smart children who will treat us with the respect we deserve, and who will not smash up the car. We want to be surrounded by music, and by ravishing scents and attractive visual objects. We don’t want to be too hot. We don’t want to be too cold. We want to dance. We want to drink a lot without having a hangover. We want to speak with the animals. We want to be envied. We want to be as gods. We want wisdom. We want hope. We want to be good. Therefore we sometimes tell ourselves stories that deal with the darker side of all our other wants.

Lately I’ve been thinking about the ice cream man. The ice cream man, he tunnels into our town, solves our streets, turns on his music, and waits like a spider. Nothing’s more inscrutable than a darkened house. Nothing except a whole street of darkened houses. Some of us sleep, some lie in bed counting their resting heart rate. Every website agrees: its rhythm is unusual. This isn’t good. We like our refrigerator magnets and our dental hygienists’ hairstyles to be unusual, not our resting heart rates. I remember when sleep was so easy, a nice calm pool warmed by humming turbines . . . now sleep is a panicked rabbit clutched tight to my chest. Just keep still and I won’t hurt you, I tell my rabbit, but you can’t calm the thing you’re clutching. That’s been true for years.

Open All Night" (originally by Bruce Springsteen) I had the carburetor cleaned and checked With her line blown out, she's hummin' like a turbojet Propped her up in the backyard on concrete blocks For a new clutch plate and a new set of shocks Took her down to the carwash, check the plugs and points I'm goin' out tonight, I'm gonna rock that joint Early north Jersey industrial skyline I'm a all-set cobra jet creepin' through the nighttime Gotta find a gas station, gotta find a payphone This turnpike sure is spooky at night when you're all alone Gotta hit the gas, baby, I'm runnin' late This New Jersey in the mornin' like a lunar landscape The boss don't dig me, so he put me on the nightshift It takes me two hours to get back to where my baby lives In the wee wee hours, your mind gets hazy Radio relay towers, won't you lead me to my baby? Underneath the overpass, trooper hits his party light switch Goodnight, good luck, one two powershift I met Wanda when she was employed Behind the counter at the Route 60 Bob's Big Boy Fried chicken on the front seat, she's sittin' in my lap We're wipin' our fingers on a Texaco roadmap I remember Wanda up on scrap metal hill With them big brown eyes that make your heart stand still 5 A.M., oil pressure's sinkin' fast I make a pit stop, wipe the windshield, check the gas Gotta call my baby on the telephone Let her know that her daddy's comin' on home Sit tight, little mama, I'm comin' round I got three more hours, but I'm coverin' ground Your eyes get itchy in the wee wee hours Sun's just a red ball risin' over them refinery towers Radio's jammed up with gospel stations Lost souls callin' long distance salvation Hey Mr. DJ, won't you hear my last prayer? Hey ho rock 'n' roll, deliver me from nowhere Ryan Adams, Nebraska (2022)