American Fascism on the US Quarter

[Mark Bryan]

The bible is not reliable source of information about anything but.....the bible!

I don't think that a cleric, such as a rabbi, that supports ritual male genital mutilation, superstition, and injustice, is a better source for your historical or literary information than academic scholars are. A rabbi is just another priest, and they are against almost everything that is life-affirming. It's a racket, and you're just buying into their lies. Hell, I'd trust an honest pagan over a priest, mullah, rabbi, or minister any day.

Then you've NEVER studied the scriptures and are UNINFORMED!

[Mark Bryan]

This debate about the etymology of Britain interested me, and so I asked my dad, whose academic speciality is the history of our language/linguistics. He said your history through the Celtic word, Breukelen, is accepted among academic and scholarly circles as the correct etymology of that word.

The problem with the Hebrew word "brit" is that that's actually a Roman alphabet spelling of a word that's actually originally seen in the Hebrew alphabet, and so brit in our alphabet does indeed look and sound like part of "Britain," but in Hebrew the real spelling of that word looks completely different from the b-r-i-t and so it wouldn't have been converted into the Roman alphabet spelling early enough to correspond with the first use of that word in English/British history. The Celtic influence makes imminent sense, especially considering the geographic and linguistic influence of Celtic history on Great Britain. Professor Dad said, "Our language is one of the most infamous for appropriating words from other languages, but we've appropriated nearly all of them from Romance or Germanic languages with similar alphabets and phonemes." Hope that helps!

Same here! I've seen a spellin' of beryith and iysh before,just to point that out.

[Mark Bryan]

Duh! Certainly that makes perfect Celtic sense. And you're right--the same letters! I just totally missed that association, which saddens me. My mind is too much on science these days and not enough on language.

I like the name Brigid/Bridget as well as BirdGirl. Or just Bird. Heck, call me anything. (Just don't call me late for dinner. . . .)

Speakin' of bird,people on the streets call me BIRDMAN! I can feed the birds right outta my hands!

[birdgirl73]

Speakin' of bird,people on the streets call me BIRDMAN! I can feed the birds right outta my hands!

Well hey, Mark Bryan, also known as Birdman. Nice to talk with you.

I got the name Bird from my husband man years ago. Before I went to medical school, I was a writer and, before that, a teacher and reporter. So when I'd be writing something or grading papers, he'd always call me "Word Bird" or ask "What's the word, Bird?" It just sorta stuck as a nickname.

The sad thing is I'm not terribly crazy about birds themselves. They tend to scare me, in fact. So you'll never see me letting any birds eating out of my hand. You might see me eating fried chicken, however. With a smile on my face. . . .

[Hamlet]

You don't like birds?! How can you not like birds?! There's just something unwholesome about that. It's like not liking flowers or puppies....Everybody likes birds. You're just making that up.

But anyway, back to the subject. A friend was telling me about his stint in rehab. at the State LaLa Home. His favorite story was about Mork from Ork as they called him. Mork wore a cone on his head and kept a Quarter in the palm of his hand. He would talk to George Washington on the Quarter all day while his eyes flitted suspiciously from side to side. I can't look at the title of this thread without thinking about Mork for some reason

[birdgirl73]

I know, it is rather unwholesome. I like flowers and puppies and kittens and children and old folks, if that helps restore some wholesome balance to me. I love Mom and America and apple pie.

My apologies for taking us off subject for just a tad longer here. When I was a little girl of three or so, a bird flew into the den in our house, which my mom and dad were painting. All the doors and windows were open, and the bird squawked and flew frantically against the walls and was screeching and pooping everywhere, ruining the wet paint. They were waving brooms and paint rollers and whatever else they could find to try and shoo the bird out. I was just traumatized as heck by all the frantic flying and squawking, they said. It truly terrified me. And I've not liked birds to get too close ever since. I love to see them flying up high in the sky. Love to see hawks soaring. Love seeing pigeons sitting around in groups, and enjoy seeing parakeets, canaries and parrots in cages in pet stores.

But if birds are flying anywhere remotely close to my head, I generally fold up and cover my head like I'm preparing for an explosion. It's silly, I know. My husband and son, who are both taller than I am, have a terrible tendency when we spend summer vacations down on the Mississippi or Alabama gulf coast to steal crackers from restaurants. Then if we're outside somewhere on the beach, out comes a cracker, which they'll hold up over my head, beckoning every sea gull within a five-mile range to converge just above me. It's really mean, but they find it hysterically funny to watch my reaction. In recent years, I've begun frisking them for packages of hidden crackers before we go walking on the beach.

Other than the low-flying-bird phobia, I'm fairly well adjusted!

[Mark Bryan]

Well hey, Mark Bryan, also known as Birdman. Nice to talk with you.

I got the name Bird from my husband man years ago. Before I went to medical school, I was a writer and, before that, a teacher and reporter. So when I'd be writing something or grading papers, he'd always call me "Word Bird" or ask "What's the word, Bird?" It just sorta stuck as a nickname.

The sad thing is I'm not terribly crazy about birds themselves. They tend to scare me, in fact. So you'll never see me letting any birds eating out of my hand. You might see me eating fried chicken, however. With a smile on my face. . . .

I remember when I was 12,I held a GREAT HORNED OWL at the Norfolk Zoo!