It’s a crazy world we live in, part 2

Okay, here’s some more stuff that I just think is worth mentioning.  To continue from yesterday:

  • How is it that I have never heard of this woman before?  Irena Sendler saved 2500 children from the Warsaw Ghetto in 1942-1943.  A teacher thought that the number was actually a typo, and four high school girls–Megan Stewart, Elizabeth Cambers, and Jessica Shelton, and Sabrina Coons–did their research to see if it was correct for a school project.  Not only is the number accurate, it is probably grossly underreported.  The four girls wrote a play about it called Life in a Jar, so named because Sendler was part of a group that smuggled children out of the concentration/work camps and gave them to others to raise under a pseudonym.  In the hopes of reuniting the children with their families someday Sendler wrote their true name on a slip of paper, stuck it in a jar, and buried the jar in a neighbor’s garden.  She was captured by the Germans and imprisoned for awhile herself until a guard accepted a bribe from her partners-in-arms and helped her get free.  These four girls and others in turn have continued to perform their play in order to honor this remarkable woman who passed away in May of this year, and in so doing have touched thousands of individuals.  One such individual was a Jewish educator and businessman saw the performance and asked to have lunch with the girls after the show. He told the girls he would raise the money and send them to Warsaw, if they would go that spring (Irena was 91 and in poor health) and bring back her story. The man raised the money in twenty-four hours, which fulfilled the girls’ dream of visiting Warsaw to interview Irena, surviving rescued children, and others involved with the movement.  I cannot believe that more people do not know of this woman, and think that the remarkable acts that she and her cohorts accomplished deserve more recognition.
  • You know, weddings and wedding registries in some ways have really gone over the top.  Or at least I thought so.  People that register at eight different stores for items costing thousands of dollars apiece have come a long way from the china/crystal/linens registering that my mother deems proper.  I shudder to think how she would react to this–evidently in Israel you can now rent a machine that allows your wedding guests to use their ATM card and transfer funds directly from their bank account to yours while at the reception.  As if the “wishing well” concept wasn’t tacky enough, now you can just skip all the fun planning/shopping stages and swipe a card!
  • We all know that kids will do one of two things with any object–stick it up their nose or try and eat it.  Evidently this man never outgrew that stage.  After complaining of stomach pains the doctors found everything metal you can possibly think of everywhere from his stomach to his colon.  Pens.  Nails.  Barbed wire.  Watch fob.  Knife.  As reported, the doctors think the man suffers from mental illness.  Ya’ think??????
  • I cannot comment on this, I really can’t.  I’ll let the title speak for itself.  The Remote Control Penis. You must read.  I could not get through it without cracking up.  It’s actually two different subjects, covered in one article.  Birth control for men.  Performance on demand.  Great stuff.
  • I will be the first to admit that there will be occasions where I store personal objects in my bra.  A tube of lipstick, car remote, or a $20 bill.  Small things when we go out to a bar and I don’t want to carry a ton of stuff with me.  After all, most of the bras nowadays have these convenient pockets for people that need to add support, and sometimes it works just fine as a mini-clutch.  I know many people that carry their phone in such a manner.  Personally, I don’t.  But there are some that get a thrill when it vibrates.  Like this girl.  Actually, her phone was in her shirt pocket.  She’d pull it out, and there was no call.  Go awhile, it vibrates again, no call.  Yeah, it wasn’t her phone.  It was the BAT that had crawled into her bra pocket the night before while it was drying on the line.  Yes, I said it was a bat.  Not the kind you hit a ball with, the kind that hang upside down and eat bugs.  Two things come to mind when I ponder this:  first, that I would never be able to take enough showers to feel clean again; and second, that girl is going to have to wash her bra again to get the guano out of the pocket!

Yeah, these are things that make me think at night.  I don’t know why, but there you go.  I am now paranoid that I have guano in my clothing and that everytime I choke on my food it’s because I have accidently eaten a thumbtack.  Fun!

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