The Stonecutter.

One of my favorite stories:

There was once a stonecutter, who was dissatisfied with himself and with his position in life.

One day, as he passed a wealthy merchant's house, and through the gateway, saw many fine possessions and important visitors. "How powerful the merchant must be!" thought the stonecutter. He became very envious, and wished that he could be like the merchant. Then he would no longer have to live the life of a mere stonecutter.

To his great surprise, he suddenly became the merchant, enjoying the more luxuries and power than he had ever dreamed of, envied and detested by those less wealthy than himself. But soon a high official passed by, carried in a sedan chair, accompanied by attendants, and escorted by soldiers beating gongs. Everyone, no matter how wealthy, had to bow low before the procession. "How powerful that official is!" he thought. "I wish I could be a high official!"

Then he became the high official, carried everywhere in his embroidered sedan chair, feared and hated by the people all around, who had to bow down before him as he passed. It was a hot summer day, and the official felt very uncomfortable in the sticky sedan chair. He looked up at the sun. It shone proudly in the sky, unaffected by his presence. "How powerful the sun is!" he thought. "I wish I could be the sun!"

Then he became the sun, shining fiercely down on everyone, scorching the fields, cursed by the farmers and laborers. But a huge black cloud moved between him and the earth, so that his light could no longer shine on everyone below. "How powerful that storm cloud is!" he thought. "I wish I could be a cloud!"

Then he became the cloud, flooding the fields and villages, shouted at by everyone. But soon he found that he was being pushed away by some great force, and realized that it was the wind. "How powerful it is!" he thought. "I wish I could be the wind!"

Then he became the wind, blowing tiles off the roofs of houses, uprooting trees, hated and feared by all below him. But after a while, he ran up against something that would not move, no matter how forcefully he blew against it - a huge, towering stone. "How powerful that stone is!" he thought. I wish I could be the stone!"

Then he became the stone, more powerful than anything else on earth. But as he stood there, he heard the sound of a hammer pounding a chisel into the solid rock, and felt himself being changed. "What could be more powerful than I, the stone?" he thought. He looked down and saw far below him the figure of a stonecutter.

In Loving Memory Of...


I just don't understand them.  I have had loved ones pass away, but never did I have the thought I should put a sticker on my car about it.  To me, those individuals meant more than that.

It seems everywhere I turn someone has a sticker on their back window reading "In loving memory of..." with the years this a person lived and then died.   I have to ask again why you think anyone else cares? When I'm behind you at a red light am I supposed to go "OH HOW SAD, I'm going to cry now for a dead stranger!"? Do you think other people will look at you and go "Now there's a good person, they remember their dead loved ones"? I don't care who lived or died in your family and no one else but you cares either. Yes, it's so sad that your 4 year old died - but why do I need to see it on the back of your car? So that I know when you cut in front of me without a turn signal it's probably because you're crying and depressed?  

Seeing the "In loving memory..." stickers makes me more think you are so inconsiderate that you can't even remember the person who died without a sticker on your back window to tell you what their name was and when they died. What happens when another family member dies do you have to put them on the back too? If you don't does it mean you didn't like them anyway?  Hope you don't outlive the rest of your family or you'll have a dozen "In loving memory..." stickers on your back window.

And how about the companies that make and sale these things?  They are profiting off the death of someone, and those who can't quite seem to get over it.  Where is the backlash?

If someone puts my name and death date on the rear window of their minivan or old pick up truck when I die, I swear, I will come back and haunt them forever.

I Want a Hippopotamus For Christmas...

1 didn't even know her name until last Christmas.  But I hate Gayla Peevy.  I've never met her, I don't know her, but I hate her just the same.  I spent most of my life enjoying every element of the Christmas Season until about 5 years ago when I hear it for the first time; the gawd-awful mess that is "I Want a Hippopotamus For Christmas." 

I have never heard anything more ridiculous in my life.  My hate for this pile of sh*t is two fold: 1- the singing will cause your ears to bleed. 2 - Annoying ass moms call into the radio station to request it so their snot nosed little kids can get 2 and a half minutes of joy before they bitch about something else they want. This song is a cancerous ear worm that lingers in it's victims longer than fruitcake in the pantry. 

Absent in this Christmas tune are thoughts of warm feelings, Christmas cheer, the story of the nativity, or anything else that makes the Christmas season so enjoyable.  The only thing this little ditty teaches kids is bad rhymes and it also promotes unreasonable expectations.

So Gayla Peevy, I hate you.  And you Hippopotamus.