Cheers To 2020 Quotes

In 2020, first responders were cheered, revered, heckled and jeered. The intensity of the year has brought about change and review of the policies and procedures surrounding first responders.

Here is a man who sees nothing but the best there is in all whom he meets. If his neighbors seem indifferent he takes no notice of that fact, for he makes it his business to fill his mind with dominating thoughts of optimism and good cheer and faith in others.

The book was uncomfortably friendly to the powerful Democrat and confirmed that Ball had close ties to Democratic leaders. Of all people, she was in a position to know the story of what happened in 2020. In her piece, Ball told a cheerful story about a “conspiracy unfolding behind the scenes,” the “result of an informal alliance between left-wing activists and business titans.”72 She purported to tell “the inside story of the conspiracy to save the 2020 election.”73

Season's Greetings by Stewart Stafford Season's Greetings To those we are needing, While I am leading The Festive charge. Christmas love is fleeting, The snow is sleeting, And there's every chance of feeling, A thaw in my cold heart. Season's Greetings everywhere, Let War cease and all be fair, A heart that's full of Christmas cheer, Bravely faces the New Year. And so, we feast and celebrate, For those we've lost, we contemplate, Christmas is an emotional stocktake, Of those still here and those that are late. The year winds down to that last date, Resolutions tempting fate, New Fear's Eve, many hate, And choose to socially-isolate. Season's Greetings while you can, To every woman, child, and man, Season's Greetings, don't you wait Hold back now, and it's too late. And in the end, all we do, Is create memories for the few, Who mattered while we strode this earth, Then back to the place before our birth. Season's Greetings, decorations down, Bittersweet crunching sounds, Topple the tree to live again, Twelfth Night, the inevitable end. © Stewart Stafford, 2020. All rights reserved.

Advent Season by Stewart Stafford A house bedecked in verdant wonderment, With lights that mirror the starry firmament, Where the Christmas Star did once shine, To guide worshippers to the Divine. The wreath on the door is a welcome portal, For any passing cheerful mortal, Wishing to enjoy warm company, And mountains of gravy-drowned turkey. Nostrils fill with cooking scents, That waft through the house with excitement A feast to consume on the 25th, After the Man in Red has paid a visit. Children orchestrate great noise, And sit and play with gifted toys, While adults watch and reminisce, On childhoods past and favourite gifts. The Wheel of Time turns, Festivities End, And the year itself begins again. In Time's juvenile crawl, Or adult speed, Life zips forward, and history repeats. © Stewart Stafford, 2020. All rights reserved.

I must take a moment and give an especially hearty cheer to anyone who champions structured data, richer data, data that gives us more handles to grab on to the things we are describing and thus enables us to serve them up in different ways within different contexts for our different constituent groups. However sophisticated the relevancy algorithms and myriad features of any discovery product might be, at the most basic level, these systems rely on the data we feed them.

Hollow (2020) Written in response to the toppling of the Edward Colston statue in Bristol on Sunday 7th June 2020. You came down easy in the end the righteous wrench of two ropes in a grand plie briefly, you flew corkscrewed, then met the ground with the clang of toy guns, loose change chains a rain of cheers. Standing ovation on the platform of your neck punk ballet. Act 1. there is more to come. And who carved you? They took such care with that stately pose and propped chin. Wise and virtuous the plaque assured us. Victors wish history odourless and static but history is a sneaky mistress moves like smoke, Colston, like saliva in a hungry mouth. This is your rightful home here, in the pit of chaos with the rest of us. Take your twisted glory and feed it to the tadpoles. Kids will write raps to that syncopated splash. I think of you lying in that harbour with the horrors you hosted. There is no poem more succinct than that. But still you are permanent. You who perfected the ratio. Blood to sugar to money to bricks. Each bougie building we flaunt haunted by bones. Children learn and titans sing under the stubborn rust of your name. But the air is gently throbbing with newness. Can you feel it? Colston, I can’t get the sound of you from my head. Countless times I passed that plinth its heavy threat of metal and marble. But as you landed a piece of you fell off broke away and inside nothing but air. This whole time You were hollow.

I’ve recently heard that 2020 is the start of a new cycle, a new decade, a new era. If that’s so, then a lot of ‘cleansing’ is especially in order. If you have abandonment, trust, co-dependency issues, heal them. If you are the type to be overly sensitive and have a habit of overthinking 10 000 improbable scenarios instead of having resolve, quit. Get out of your head; don’t you know what they say about it? It’s the Devil’s Workshop in there. Quit sublimating your insecurities, inner fears and projecting those outside. Quit blaming, hurting yourself. You are not a victim. You are a survivor-You came a long way and you are precious so, treasure yourself. Also…quit buying the bullshit of so-called well-wishers. Bottom feeding vultures are always on guard circling around waiting to suck lives out. If you are in toxic relationships that are weighing down on you, be the bigger and smarter person. Be wiser. Those who know their worth know better. You don’t deserve to be gas lighted. If you have objectives to achieve, be diligent and patient. Work in ways where Success comes to you with a Bang for the World to shudder a little whenever they hear your name. Out of sheer respect of course. Cheers.