The Slab

Friday, September 14, 2012

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Mittens: Clueless, feckless opportunist

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews,
Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones,

Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans
Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands.

-- William Shakespeare, The Two Gentleman of Verona, Act III, Scene 2

Production manager

Joshua Michael Brickman

Lumière

Chris Stoner

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Mon frère

5 ft.

Mitt the Flipflopper. Yet again.

Monday, September 10, 2012

Lineup

Jeff Grant

Beef

Eliad Cohen

Rise and shine

Bonjour, bienvenue

Merci, danke, ευχαριστω, obrigado, благодарю, gracias, 감사합니다, grazie, dankje, köszönöm.

Contents of this blog are the viewpoints and choices of the blogger, and are not in any way related to the blogger's employer or its clients. Copyrights of images and other materials appearing on this site are the property of their respective owners, unless otherwise noted. If you are the copyright owner and wish to have an image removed, you can contact this blog.

Comments posted in the Comments area of this blog are not necessarily the opinion or viewpoint of the blogger.

The Slabber

Fighting Against Neglect

.
.
Our problems, both those we experience externally such as wars, crime and violence and those we experience internally as emotional and psychological suffering will not be solved until we address this underlying neglect of our inner dimension. That is why the great movements of the last hundred years and more--democracy, liberalism, socialism, and Communism--have all failed to deliver the universal benefits they were supposed to provide, despite many wonderful ideas. A revolution is called for, certainly, but not a political, an economic, or a technical revolution. We have had enough experience of these during the past century to know that a purely external approach will not suffice. What I propose is a spiritual revolution.

~ His Holiness the Dalai Lama
.
.
.

The Capabilities.

I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simply because he will endure: that when the last dingdong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking. I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet's, the writer's, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.
~ William Faulkner, speech at the Nobel Banquet, City Hall, Stockholm, December 10, 1950

Friday, September 14, 2012

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Monday, September 10, 2012

____________________

_____________________

_____________________

Related Links

___________________

Bonjour, bienvenue

_____________________

Click this pic for Special Content

__________________

____________________

____________________

____________________

_______________________

____________________

Fighting Against Neglect

____________________

Archive

____________________

______________________

___________________

____________________

____________________

____________________

___________________

____________________

The Capabilities.

Q