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Ireneo_Funes

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Posts posted by Ireneo_Funes

  1. So if I don't use the roads and highways, I shouldn't have to pay taxes for their upkeep?

     

    If I don't have kids, I shouldn't have to pay taxes for schools?

     

    It seems like if our forests and wilderness areas were truly public, their maintenance would be covered through general taxation. User fees start us down a slippery slope towards privatization, I think.

  2. Holy crap graupel, that site is crazy! I don't know where they get their info. . . tax forms? I looked up a bunch of people, found them, and then looked myself up. It's got my birth date, phone number, my work address, my parents' address, my dad's office address. Plus you can do background checks. I'm glad I'm not stalking material.

     

    Yeah, it's a little scary what's out there. But I noticed some weird (incorrect) stuff too: two of the addresses they had for my mom were apartments I used to live in, and another was my in-laws' address. And when I looked up my wife under her married name, she had my birthday.

     

    Take note, would-be stalkers!

  3. It didn't sound like there was any refusing to let parties get past on the part of Party #1. I thought the chief complaint voiced by Party #2 was just the overall slowpokitude of the other party.

     

    Jason had the most thoughtful post on this discussion. If this is going to get rehashed I hope he puts his 2 cents in again.

  4. Here's Bunglehead in full-on fly gear looking to pick up some honeys at the Kenosha Pacer Ralley.

     

    kenosha-01-glen-pacer.jpg

     

    Even though the Gremlin is clearly the superior machine (the first American-built import!), I'm thoroughly entranced by the Pacer's sleek stylings.

  5. Bill, that Wilfred Owen poem is classic. Also the Philip Larkin poem that Snugtop kicked off this thread with is excellent. Never read that one before.

     

    Here's one I like:

     

    The Snow Man, by Wallace Stevens

     

    One must have a mind of winter

    To regard the frost and the boughs

    Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

     

    And have been cold a long time

    To behold the junipers shagged with ice,

    The spruces rough in the distant glitter

     

    Of the January sun; and not to think

    Of any misery in the sound of the wind,

    In the sound of a few leaves,

     

    Which is the sound of the land

    Full of the same wind

    That is blowing in the same bare place

     

    For the listener, who listens in the snow,

    And, nothing himself, beholds

    Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

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