as often noted by our forum members, identical subjects are posted but on new threads, by different people.
yesterday, i asked a question on a medical issue that has been discussed dozens of times.
i posted on an older thread that related closest to my thoughts.
Greetings:
As often noted by our forum members, identical subjects are posted but on new threads, by different people. Yesterday, I asked a question on a medical issue that has been discussed dozens of times. I posted on an older thread that related closest to my thoughts. As has happened many times before, there was no response.
Therefore, is it better to start a "New Topic," rather than post on an appropriate but older thread?
Thank you.
to me they have an agenda and they really don't care about professional journalism.
most are untrustworthy and that's a shame.
A little journalistic history, which is new to me:
The Spanish-American War is often referred to as the first "media war." During the 1890s, journalism that sensationalized—and sometimes even manufactured—dramatic events was a powerful force that helped propel the United States into war with Spain. Led by newspaper owners William Randolph Hearst and Joseph Pulitzer, journalism of the 1890s used melodrama, romance, and hyperbole to sell millions of newspapers--a style that became known as yellow journalism.
The term yellow journalism came from a popular New York World comic called "Hogan's Alley," which featured a yellow-dressed character named the "the yellow kid." Determined to compete with Pulitzer's World in every way, rival New York Journal owner William Randolph Hearst copied Pulitzer's sensationalist style and even hired "Hogan's Alley" artist R.F. Outcault away from the World. In response, Pulitzer commissioned another cartoonist to create a second yellow kid. Soon, the sensationalist press of the 1890s became a competition between the "yellow kids," and the journalistic style was coined "yellow journalism."
http://www.npr.org/2017/02/19/510585965/poor-education-leads-to-lost-dreams-and-low-income-for-many-jehovahs-witnesses.
can't comment on this right now because i'm heading off to school .
transcript:.
Good sense and careful planning will always out.
Those "seat-warming" JWs who were maligned for working full time are sitting pretty, and warm, in their retirement years, while the Old System lingers on and on and . . .
attending for family reasons, and listen in "oversee" modus to the many comments during the watchtower study.. in my opinion it was a self help article on the subject stress amongst the flock.. leave it all to jehovah and help your self with the bullet points.. what i noticed from the comments is the lot of stress mentioned.
comments after comment they told how they handle their problems.
it is a real toppic amongst them.
Regarding the "doom and gloom" that frequently prefaced the Sunday public talk:
When the talk was reduced from 45 to 30 minutes, the directive to the speaker was to concentrate on the positive message from the Scriptures. The brothers, as I recall, were told specifically not to focus on the negative (which has always been threaded throughout any Bible-based presentation).
I hadn't thought about this official change again, since posting here.
Has anything REALLY changed?
where a few of us here on the forum live is in an emergency situation.
the main spillway on oroville dam -- the tallest dam in the usa -- is damaged.
the emergency spillway, never used before in the 48 years the dam has operated, is eroding.. major confusion and panic occurred when the order went out sunday, late afternoon: this is not a drill!.
Thanks, again, smiddy and eyeused2badub and jwleaks, for commenting. Helpful to hear from a "neighbor" (Oroville) and someone whose land (Oz) I visited and loved.
Latest on poor engineering, failure to maintain properly, lack of understanding the environment, geology, etc.:
Colson, who worked on other parts of the dam, said the design of the spillway never fully analyzed the potential for cavitation, which occurs when roiling water creates air pockets that cause high-pressure intrusion into cracks and fissures. The action can chew through thick concrete and even steel.
Dam spillways have a long history of problems with cavitation. The spillways at Hoover Dam have been used twice, and both times they sustained heavy damage, similar to what happened at Oroville. Cavitation caused concrete to fail and resulted in scouring of the surrounding rock. Glen Canyon Dam, also on the Colorado River, sustained massive damage in 1983 when its underground spillways were put to use. Dams in Pakistan and Brazil have also proved the potential for cavitation to damage spillways.http://www.latimes.com/local/california/la-me-ln-oroville-spillway-damage-20170220-story.html
a cool sense of tranquility overtakes my troubled spirit.. i emerge slowly from a deeply entrenched, lifelong nightmare and proceed into gentle reverie, into quiet wakefulness.
youthful ideals, embodied in vaporous form before me, are a black reminiscence, threatening to return as an untold want having neither name nor substance, only a niggling dig that skewers my soul.. i shut it out, shut out all the noise in the head: irrational thought, excessive thinking that leads to depression, to insanity.
yet, i am hopeful that devils of the past are blocked approach to me by a portcullis that guards both heart and mind.. i see but darkly my amorphous reflection and sense it is a phantom, not the real me.
Thank you, just fine, for letting us know that you are . . . just fine!
What you wrote so clearly and beautifully brings me back years ago to what an anointed sister told me. She was very humble and wise, and we were close friends. When she went out in service, her aim was to be friendly, kind, and helpful. She told me it wasn't her goal to convince anyone of anything.
Additionally, a former elder and JW told me upon my exit what you wrote: I don't have to have all the answers, I don't have to be certain of anything.
THANKS!
a cool sense of tranquility overtakes my troubled spirit.. i emerge slowly from a deeply entrenched, lifelong nightmare and proceed into gentle reverie, into quiet wakefulness.
youthful ideals, embodied in vaporous form before me, are a black reminiscence, threatening to return as an untold want having neither name nor substance, only a niggling dig that skewers my soul.. i shut it out, shut out all the noise in the head: irrational thought, excessive thinking that leads to depression, to insanity.
yet, i am hopeful that devils of the past are blocked approach to me by a portcullis that guards both heart and mind.. i see but darkly my amorphous reflection and sense it is a phantom, not the real me.
Where I was, poetically expressed, when in recovery, wondering where my life had gone.
As a Bethelite, I dressed in hand-me-down clothes -- gotten out the clothes barrel at Bethel -- but I was earnest. Fellow Bethelites and I scoured the streets and hotels of New York City (Manhattan) for willing souls.
In the foreign-language territory, there were many converts. We chatted up the Caribbean islanders (here, in the big city, earning money to send back home) in their native tongue and got lots of addresses. These humble people gladly welcomed us into their humble, crowded apartments.
My much older, wiser and jaded shell of spent humanity gazes downward, through a pane of unwashed glass. I eye, with mixed emotions, my youthful, scrubbed ruddiness and earnestness. Though I am dressed in somewhat worn, hand-me-down threads, my tattered saintliness won over not a few souls.
Little did I then realize that the inherent naturalness of youthful persuasion had been reeled in, unhooked, and shoved into the creel of rigid and uncompromising uniformity. Unwittingly, I had been selling my own soul while in the process of winning over the souls of trusting men, women, children.
From my enlightened vantage point, I peer back in time. I look down at my beautiful, young manhood. From a darkened pane I see my reflection and despise what I have become.
Strangely, a cool sense of tranquility washes over me as I come out of my reverie, my black reminiscence.
a cool sense of tranquility overtakes my troubled spirit.. i emerge slowly from a deeply entrenched, lifelong nightmare and proceed into gentle reverie, into quiet wakefulness.
youthful ideals, embodied in vaporous form before me, are a black reminiscence, threatening to return as an untold want having neither name nor substance, only a niggling dig that skewers my soul.. i shut it out, shut out all the noise in the head: irrational thought, excessive thinking that leads to depression, to insanity.
yet, i am hopeful that devils of the past are blocked approach to me by a portcullis that guards both heart and mind.. i see but darkly my amorphous reflection and sense it is a phantom, not the real me.
I agree, waton.
You express yourself very well and, given where we are in the last 10% of life, we want to sail into a beautiful, peaceful sunset.
Many thanks.
I
where a few of us here on the forum live is in an emergency situation.
the main spillway on oroville dam -- the tallest dam in the usa -- is damaged.
the emergency spillway, never used before in the 48 years the dam has operated, is eroding.. major confusion and panic occurred when the order went out sunday, late afternoon: this is not a drill!.
Thanks, smiddy, for the good thoughts -- much appreciated.
The adjacent communities have been very generous, especially with the huge domestic animal population. Moving livestock, horses, etc. is a big job.
a cool sense of tranquility overtakes my troubled spirit.. i emerge slowly from a deeply entrenched, lifelong nightmare and proceed into gentle reverie, into quiet wakefulness.
youthful ideals, embodied in vaporous form before me, are a black reminiscence, threatening to return as an untold want having neither name nor substance, only a niggling dig that skewers my soul.. i shut it out, shut out all the noise in the head: irrational thought, excessive thinking that leads to depression, to insanity.
yet, i am hopeful that devils of the past are blocked approach to me by a portcullis that guards both heart and mind.. i see but darkly my amorphous reflection and sense it is a phantom, not the real me.
Thanks, waton, Perry, and stillin.
Your comments are appreciated.
Rollercoaster is more like it, waton -- you're correct. Maybe, when I wrote that, I was going downhill, with no immediate thought I'd ever change direction.
