Sunday pictures and poem

Warble for Lilac-Time

from Leaves of Grass

by Walt Whitman

WARBLE me now, for joy of Lilac-time,
Sort me, O tongue and lips, for Nature’s sake, and sweet life’s sake
— and death’s the same as life’s,
Souvenirs of earliest summer—birds’ eggs, and the first berries;
Gather the welcome signs, (as children, with pebbles, or stringing shells;)
Put in April and May — the hylas croaking in the ponds — the elastic air,
Bees, butterflies, the sparrow with its simple notes,
Blue-bird, and darting swallow — nor forget the high-hole flashing his golden wings.

The tranquil sunny haze, the clinging smoke, the vapor,
Spiritual, airy insects, humming on gossamer wings,
Shimmer of waters, with fish in them — the cerulean above;
All that is jocund and sparkling — the brooks running,
The maple woods, the crisp February days, and the sugar-making;
The robin, where he hops, bright-eyed, brown-breasted,
With musical clear call at sunrise, and again at sunset,
Or flitting among the trees of the apple-orchard, building the nest of his mate.
The melted snow of March — the willow sending forth its yellow-green sprouts;
For spring-time is here! the summer is here! and what is this in it and from it?

Thou, Soul, unloosen’d — the restlessness after I know not what;
Come! let us lag here no longer — let us be up and away!
O for another world! O if one could but fly like a bird!
O to escape—to sail forth, as in a ship!
To glide with thee, O Soul, o’er all, in all, as a ship o’er the waters!
Gathering these hints, these preludes — the blue sky, the grass,
the morning drops of dew.

(With additional songs — every spring will I now strike up additional songs,
Nor ever again forget, these tender days, the chants of Death as well as Life;)

The lilac-scent, the bushes, and the dark green, heart-shaped leaves,
Wood violets, the little delicate pale blossoms called innocence,
Samples and sorts not for themselves alone, but for their atmosphere,
To tally, drench’d with them, tested by them,
Cities and artificial life, and all their sights and scenes,
My mind henceforth, and all its meditations—my recitatives,
My land, my age, my race, for once to serve in songs,
(Sprouts, tokens ever of death indeed the same as life,)
To grace the bush I love—to sing with the birds,
A warble for joy of Lilac-time.

It's lilac blossom time. When I was a little kid we lived on the inland plateau of South Africa, known in Afrikaans as the "platteland." There are frosts throughout the winters there and lilacs do well. Then we moved to the east coast where the warm tropical Benguela current flows in the Indian Ocean and keeps the weather mild and there are too few frosts for lilacs to thrive. Well, that was the case in those days - nearly 50 years ago. I didn't see lilacs again until I went to live in the UK.

They have since developed hybrids in California that don't need frosts to bloom but they have very little fragrance. Then we moved to Oregon and I saw real lilacs with a perfume for the first time since I lived in the UK. There are white, pink, lavender, purple and blue lilacs.

Next week I am going to post pics of California lilac. The "real" lilac's proper name is syringa. The California lilac is ceanothus.

Hillbilly Ecosystem Hog Roast

This weekend the Hillbilly Ecosystem is holding a Hillbilly Hog Roast which is the redneck version of a blogburst or blog carnival. Each of the Hillbillies is going to post their favorite Hillbilly song. Lemuel, the host of the Hog Roast, suggested that the official Hillbilly Ecosystem song could be picked by writing them on note cards and see which song my transexual chicks pecked at most.

Now, as I pointed out to Lemuel, I'm not a southerner and feel kind of out of place but Lem reminded me that you can't get much further south than South Africa. Also, since I've been declared an honorary Mississippian by one blogger and an honorary Louisianian by another blogger, I feel quite at home.

After all, I'm a South African redneck and have been called a redneck all my life but redneck means something slightly different in South Africa. Redneck in Afrikaans is "rooinek" - literally redneck. Here's how that word came to be used in South Africa.

During the Second Boer War, Britain sent 500,000 redcoats to crush 90,000 Afrikaner Boers. For three years, the Boers fought a guerrilla war against the British. The British ultimately succeeded in breaking this resistance by adopting a scorched-earth policy. In 1901 and 1902, the British torched more than 30,000 farms in the South African Republic and the Orange Free State and placed all the Afrikaner women and children in the world's first "concentration camps," where, because of overcrowding and unsanitary conditions, more than 25,000 Afrikaner women and children died.

(You can read more about this in my essay, "Why the Afrikaners hate the British," and you can read more about the world's first concentration camps here.)

Anyway, to cut a long story short, the Afrikaners noticed that the British soldiers all got badly sunburned and that their necks were always red - hence redneck or "rooinek." To this day Afrikaners call the British "rooineks." And the Brits look down their noses at the Afrikaners and call them "skaaps" which is the Afrikaans word for sheep.

Since the Boer War, the Afrikaners hate the British and vice versa and it was unusual up until recently for them to intermarry or even socialize but my mother was an Afrikaner and my father was of British descent. I was raised as an Afrikaner and my first language was Afrikaans so the British called me a "skaap." But, because my father was British, the Afrikaners called me a "rooinek.

Here's my "rooinek" song:

AG PLEEZ DEDDY

(This is a South African classic from the 1960s and is as close to an "official" rooinek song as you can get. The single sold more copies in South Africa than any of Elvis Presley's. I thought of changing some of the words but I added a glossary instead.)

Ag* pleez Deddy won't you take us to the drive-in;
All six, seven of us, eight, nine, ten.
We wanna see a flick about
Tarzan an' the Ape-men
An' when the show is over you can bring us back again.

Chorus

Ag Pleez Deddy won't you take us to the fun-fair;
We wanna have a ride on the bumper-cars.
We'll buy a stick of candy floss*
And eat it on the Octopus;
Then we'll take the rocket ship that goes to Mars.

Chorus

Ag pleez Deddy won't you take us to the wrestling
We wanna see an ou* called Sky High Lee.
When he fights Willie Liebenberg
There's gonna be a murder.
He's gonna catch a klap* from Willie's knobkierrie.*

Chorus

Ag pleez Deddy won't you take us off to Durban;
It's only eight hours in the Chevro-lay.
There's spans of sea an' sand an' sun
And fish in the aquari-yum.
That's a lekker* place for a holi-day

Chorus

Ag sis Deddy if we can't kraak* to bioscope*
Or go off to Durban, life's a heng of a bore.
If you won't take us to the zoo
Then what the heck else can we do
But go on out and moere* all the oukies* next door.

Chorus:

Popcorn, chewing gum, peanuts an' bubble gum
Ice cream, candy floss an' Eskimo Pie.
Ag Deddy how we miss
Nigger-balls* an' licorice
Pepsi Cola, ginger beer
and Canada Dry.

Ag Pleez Deddy - VOETSEK!*

Many Afrikaans word entered the English language, i.e. veld and boer.

Ag! = The same as the German and Dutch "ach."

candy floss = cotton candy.

ou, oukie = chap, bloke, dude.

klap = punch, hit, slap.

knobkierrie = a wooden club with a large knob on the end adopted from the Zulus who used them as fighting sticks. (There is a play on words here too coarse to describe in a family-friendly blog. Many an Afrikaner had his skull smashed in by Zulus wielding knobkerries.)

lekker = nice.

kraak = here it means "mosey off to."

bioscope = movie theater.

moere = murder, slaughter.

Nigger-balls = huge brown anise flavored candy balls which were sometimes called gobstoppers. One lasted all day if you sucked it and didn't chew it. (I thought of changing this word because it is now politically incorrect but I left it in the interests of historical and cultural accuracy. Nigger was not used much in South Africa where the equivalent insulting term was "kafir," a word which the British got from the Arabs. Well, in the eyes of the Mahomedanazis, we're all Kafirs now.)

Voetsek! = bugger off!

Below is a picture of a board-game, "Boer en Rooinek."

They also served

This is a follow up to my post about the male movie stars who served in WWll. During WWll women couldn't serve in the regular armed forces but many found other ways to serve. Some joined the Womens' Auxilliary. Many more worked in "men's jobs" in factories. Quite a few Hollywood stars also served as best they could. Some of them sold War Bonds; some toured with Bob Hope and the USO and some were real heroes. There were a lot more than these but these are my favorites whom I regard as some of the most beautiful women ever to grace this planet.

Audrey Hepburn, who was born in Belgium, was a courier for World War II resistance fighters in Holland when she was little more than a young girl.






































Josephine Baker served France during World War II in several ways. She performed for the troops, and was an honorable correspondent for the French Resistance (undercover work included smuggling secret messages written on her music sheets) and a sub-lieutenant in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force. She was later awarded the Medal of the Resistance with Rosette and named a Chevalier of the Legion of Honor by the French government for hard work and dedication.


































Marlene Dietrich was already a famous movie star in Germany but, following the rise of the Nazis, she renounced her country and rejected Hitler's request that she return. She became an ardent and fearless supporter of the Allied Forces, performing hundreds of times for the troops as near the war zone as she could get.
















Dorothy Lamour was among the most popular pinup girls among American servicemen. Lamour was also largely responsible for starting up the war bond tours in which movie stars would travel the country selling war bonds for the US Government to the public. Lamour alone promoted the sale of over $21 million dollars worth of war bonds.



















Carole Lombard crisscrossed the nation selling war bonds, raising millions of dollars for the war effort. It was during one such drive that the beautiful screwball comedian, wife of Clark Gable, died in a plane crash. Lombard, who had just raised $2.5 million for the cause, had also starred in an anti-Nazi film, the hilarious "To Be or Not to Be," with Jack Benny. When she died, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt eulogized her, saying, "She gave unselfishly of time and talent to serve her government in peace and war."





















Hedy Lamarr not only sold War Bonds but collaborated with experimental music pioneer George Antheil on an invention for radio-controlled torpedoes. Lamarr, an Austrian-born actress who despised the Nazis and who had never even attended college, had picked up some useful knowledge while married to a German arms dealer, whom she ditched by drugging her maid and slipping away in her uniform after her husband became involved with the Nazis. Her invention was so revolutionary it is the basis for modern mobile telecommunications. Lamarr was probably most famous for doing Hollywood's first nude scene in the film "Ecstasy." Following America's entrance into World War II, Lamarr raised $7 million in war bonds for the Allied effort.


















Betty Grable was the most popular pinup girl of WWII. Her rearview swimsuit shot, in which she smiled invitingly over her shoulder for the benefit of the fighting men, was tacked up on barracks walls in war zones all over the world.



















These stars were also popular as USO performers and pinups as well as selling War Bonds:

June Allyson
























Rita Hayworth















Jane Russell



















Lana Turner



















Esther Williams was a member of the 1940 Olympics team headed for Tokyo when World War II intervened. The games were cancelled along with her hopes for the gold and international fame. By the tail end of World War II, Williams was a pinup favorite with returning Gls.


















Amy Elizabeth Thorpe who was born on November 22, 1910, in Minneapolis was not a movie star but a real life spy - one of the most successful ever. William Stephenson, who ran Great Britain's World War II intelligence activities in the Western Hemisphere, would one day give her a code name "Cynthia." During WWll she became known as Betty Pack, and one of the most intriguing spies of WWII. Her adventures included an illegal break-in of the Vichy French embassy in Washington to steal French naval code books from a safe in a locked and guarded room. The most accurate version of her life and service can be found in "Sisterhood of Spies".









And as a contrast compare this sly and sleazy bitch, Cameron Diaz, who wore a shirt before 2000's election that said "I WON'T VOTE FOR A SON OF A BUSH!" while promoting Charlie's Angels. During an Oprah appearance before 2004's election, Diaz said, "We have a voice now, and we’re not using it, and women have so much to lose. I mean, we could lose the right to our bodies. If you think that rape should be legal, then don’t vote. But if you think that you have a right to your body, and you have a right to say what happens to you and fight off that danger of losing that, then you should vote."

This is a glamorous photo of her but I could have chosen something less flattering where she looks like mother moonbat, Cindy Sheehan. Oh, why not?

The Mystery of Wobbly Boobs

Last year a person came to enquire about moving into the trailer park. At first I thought this person was a butch woman with a very short haircut. Our local ladies tend to be quite butch. I know women here who drive trucks, pour concrete and do construction work. Many look like lesbians but are in fact married with kids. As Gertrude Stein observed: ""There are five sexes: heterosexual men, heterosexual women, homosexual men, homosexual women and American women."

This person had a smooth-skinned and completely hairless face, a high-pitched squeaky voice and big soft boobs wobbling under the shirt. I noticed the lack of a bra and thought: "Definitely lesbian."

Wobbly Boobs offered a small soft squishy hand when we introduced ourselves.

"My name's Pat," I said; "I'm the owner."

"My name's Bob," said Wobbly Boobs. I hid my surprise. Needless to say my naughty mind immediately nicknamed him Wobbly Bob in order to distinguish him from the four other Bobs in the trailer park. (I can't say what their nicknames are because this is a family-friendly blog.)

Anyway, Wobbly Bob wanted to move in permanently and was just the kind of tenant I prefer: a senior citizen who was clean and smelled nice despite the fact that he had no teeth (or at least did not wear them.) I told him about the 10% senior discount.

It turned out that he was originally from Tennessee but had lived in Oregon for 40 years. I remarked that he had not lost his Southern accent. Wobbly said that he'd been in the army for 8 years and, when he got out, he'd found that his wife had taken the kids and shacked up with another guy. So, he headed west and had been here ever since. He had lost touch with his kids and was alone in life. I told him he could move in whenever he wanted.

I didn't see him again for a couple of weeks and then he popped in one day to ask if he could still move in. I said, "Sure, as long as I have a vacancy. You can reserve a space if you put down a 50% deposit."

Wobbly Bob disappeared again and returned a month later. Apparently he was living in a trailer in a used car lot rent free in exchange for keeping an eye on the lot. The lot was being sold to a businessman from California and he was not sure when the sale would go through and wanted to live rent free for as long as he could. This went on for about 6 months and he would visit me about once a month.

Eventually, just before Christmas, he told me that he was going to move in on Jan 1st. He paid his rent in advance. By now I had become fond of him. He still had his old-fashioned Southern courtesy and was always clean and sober.

A few days after he moved in, he told me that he was going to trade in his "fifth-wheel" trailer because he did not like having to climb up into the bed. His new trailer was a regular trailer; newer and shinier and bigger. Then he traded in his car for a new truck. Then he traded in the new truck for a new mini-van.

Last week, a tow truck arrived and hooked up Wobbly Bob's trailer. I asked him if he was trading it in for another. He said no and that he was selling it for a profit. He had bought it for ten thousand and had already sold it for $14,000. I asked him what kind of new trailer he was getting. He told me that he wasn't getting a new one.

"Where are you going to live?" I asked.

"In my van."

"But why are you selling now when you still have nearly two weeks rent left?"

Wobbly started looking shifty-eyed and hummed and hawed. I decided to let sleeping dogs lie. He was a big boy and could take care of himself.

The only explanation I have of Wobbly Boob's behavior is that he is a con artist and keeps buying and selling at a profit. He probably kept paying the monthly payments on the trailers and vehicles but eventually accumulated a few tens of thousands and then just took off leaving lots of debts. He always was a bit of a mystery.

And I still think Wobbly Boobs is a lesbian.

Another nutty day in the trailer park

Life isn't always fair or easy.

It was a crazy day in the RV park today - just one of those days full of annoying interruptions by sad people with silly problems:

My dog ate my welfare check so I can't pay my rent on time.

My TV only gets 124 channels - what's wrong with the cable service?

I'll be late with my rent because my grandmother died for the fourth time this year.

This is the third time this week that the mail has been late. Why can't they deliver the mail on time?

The coke machine just ate my quarter.

Someone didn't flush the third toilet in the mens' room.

That lilac bush next to my trailer is full of bees.

My black eye isn't because my boyfriend hit me. It was an accident. He shoved me into the wall a bit too hard. No, we weren't fighting. He was just a bit rough.

I'm looking for someone who lives in your RV park. His name's Bob. You've got four Bobs living there? Sorry, I don't know what his last name is. Can you give him a message? Yes, I know he's got a phone but I don't remember the number. Yes, I know this is your business phone but you don't have to be rude about it. I just wanted to tell him that I hurt my foot and can't come tomorrow.

I put 2 quarters in the dryer and my laundry's still wet. You mean you can't dry blankets in 30 minutes? That's a rip off.

Those alder trees are giving me allergies.

I don't have time to go to the store. Can I borrow a some paper towels? Yes, I know I'm living on welfare and have all the time in the world but that doesn't give you the right to be so rude about it.

Yes, it was one of those days. I didn't have time to write anything for my blog or read any other peoples' blogs. I didn't even have time for lunch and my after lunch nap went out the window when Miss Thing knocked on my office door and asked if I could tell her neighbor, Tom aka Elvis, (yep, he's 65 and dies his hair and sideburns black and wears tight jeans over his saggy butt and a glittery cowboy shirt popping buttons over his beer-belly and he's drunk by 9am) that he was playing "Blue Suede Shoes" too loud.

But I still count my blessings because I slept like a baby last night and felt fine and realized after the second interruption that it would be "one of those days" because I had strength and joy and not everyone else did. A lot of the "silly problems" were excuses:

I'm feeling lonely and blue and needy and I want a hug and I'm just a 65 year old baby who has made bad decisions all my life and now I'm a drunk but I'm not an obnoxious drunk and I mostly pay my rent on time - well never more than a week late - and it feels like my grandma died for the fourth time this year.

Okay, so I couldn't write my latest essay on how Locke's ideas influenced the American Revolution. Life might not always be fair or easy but it sure is funny.

PS Of course I should add that these folks are all Democrats.

Flaming flamingos

First it was the the attack of the Transexual Chickens.

Then it was the "Brokeback Penguins:"

Roy and Silo, two chinstrap penguins at the Central Park Zoo in Manhattan, are completely devoted to each other. For nearly six years now, they have been inseparable. They exhibit what in penguin parlance is called "ecstatic behavior": that is, they entwine their necks, they vocalize to each other, they have sex. Silo and Roy are, to anthropomorphize a bit, gay penguins. When offered female companionship, they have adamantly refused it. And the females aren't interested in them, either.

At one time, the two seemed so desperate to incubate an egg together that they put a rock in their nest and sat on it, keeping it warm in the folds of their abdomens, said their chief keeper, Rob Gramzay. Finally, he gave them a fertile egg that needed care to hatch. Things went perfectly. Roy and Silo sat on it for the typical 34 days until a chick, Tango, was born. For the next two and a half months they raised Tango, keeping her warm and feeding her food from their beaks until she could go out into the world on her own. Mr. Gramzay is full of praise for them.

And now it's the "Flaming Flamingos:"

Two male flamingos at the Wildfowl & Wetlands Trust at Slimbridge have surprised both staff and visitors by demonstrating a long-lasting loyalty to each other and excellent parental skills.

Greater Flamingos Carlos and Fernando have been together for more than five years and have reared three generations of adopted chicks. Twice a year Carlos and Fernando perform an elaborate courtship dance together before stealing eggs from their heterosexual neighbours to bring up as their own.

Nigel Jarrett, WWT Aviculture Manager explains: "Carlos and Fernando have been together now for five years and seem perfectly happy together. Both of them take on the male roles during the courtship ritual which involves preening, strutting and waving their heads vigorously from side to side with their necks at full stretch.

"Their parental instincts are also very strong prompting them to raid the nests of other couples in the flock. They have been known to fight the heterosexual birds and there is usually a ‘handbags at dawn’ moment where they will fight with another couple before stealing their egg. They are both large adult males so as a partnership they are quite formidable and are afforded more respect from the other birds. They are also very good parents and behave just as the heterosexual birds do when rearing their young."

For the first 3 or 4 weeks young flamingos are fed on crop milk a pink nutritious liquid produced by both parents so Carlos and Fernando have no problem feeding their adopted young and have so far raised three chicks.

Just what is the world coming to? Next thing we'll hear that Hollywood will be making a movie about gay cowboys. Sheesh!

Those evil greedy oil companies

In the past 7 years crude oil prices have gone up by 454%. In 1999 the cost of the crude oil needed to produce one gallon of gas sold in the USA was 35 cents per gallon. It now costs $1.59 per gallon. In 1999 gas cost about $1.75 per gallon and now costs around $3 per gallon. That's an increase of 170%. At that rate, shouldn't we really be paying $8 per gallon? That's what the Europeans and Japanese pay.

Crude oil prices have increased mostly because of simple supply and demand. China and India have increased their demands for crude oil by nearly 100% in the past decade. It's an even hotter commodity than it used to be so of course OPEC will put up the price. We should also take into account the increased costs to the oil companies for all the fancy additives that the environannies have insisted on and the fact that we have not been able to drill for oil in Alaska or build new refineries because of the tree-huggers.

Obviously oil "futures" investors have also driven up the price because of the instability of the Mid-east and they are trading with a wary eye on a possible future disruption in supply. Right now they're prepared to pay $73 per BBL of crude but, like all "futures" investors, they're taking a gamble. It's a good bet that they'll be able to sell at a higher price down the road BUT they also know that something could happen to drive the price down and they'll be stuck selling at a loss. That's the "futures" game.

Maybe even greedy oil execs have driven up the price, i.e. Exxon Mobil chairman, Lee Raymond's nearly 400 million dollar golden handshake.

Now I don't know the exact figures but I'm guessing that there are 150 million people commuting 20 miles each way to and from work. That's 40 miles a day or 200 miles a week each. Just say they get 20 miles to the gallon. That means that they are using ten gallons a week each. 150 million commuters using ten gallons a week each comes to 1,500,000,000 gallons. Say they all do this for 50 weeks each year. That's 75,000,000,000 gallons at $3 a gallon or $225,000,000,000.

$400,000,000 is 0.17% of $225,000,000,000 and 0.17% of $3 is 0.005 cents. Each of us using 500 gallons of gas per year have contributed 2.5 cents to Mr Raymond's bonus.

But it doesn't quite work like that either. Mr Raymond is 67. He worked for Exxon for 43 years, working his way from the bottom to the top. He was chairman for the past 12 years. He orchestrated the merger between Exxon and Mobil in 1999, making it the largest oil company in the world as well as the most profitable. Raymond was a ordinary person, just like us, once upon a time. I don't begrudge him one penny of his bonus.

Oil man's half a billion dollar bye-bye.

PS My math could be wrong as I haven't had breakfast yet. If you spot any bad arithmetic, please point it out to me.

At a loss for words

I have no idea what to call this post. Several times now I have been saddened to hear that conservative women think that Brad Pitt, George Clooney and the other putrid termites with capped teeth that populate Hollywood nowadays are "hot." Since when is it okay to disrespectfully refer to a man as "hot" or "cute?" It was bad enough that men used to call women "hot babes" without now debasing men into sex objects.

These spineless weasels are not men. They are debauched and decadent walking penises. How can you not see that they are revolting? Modern women seem to have the same shallow mentality as homosexuals and think with their emotions and genitals not with their hearts and minds? No one can accuse me of not having a sense of humor but I despair for the human race if women are chosing men for their anatomy instead of their character.














Some of our younger ladies think that this flaccid tapeworm is "hot." This socalled "hot" bacterium has no more loyalty to his women than a fly has to a piece of dogshit. This effeminate simpering hemorrhoid, called Brad Pitt, is not a man but a piece of rotting meat. He's as about as much of a man as Michael Jackson.

Did he serve in the military? Do you want to know what a real handsome man looks like? Do you want to see real male beauty, strength, character, sincerity and trustworthiness? These are real men; men you could look up to, admire and respect. I have only picked actors because I wanted to show that there were real men in Hollywood once upon a time. I think I'll let the pictures speak for themselves:

Eddie Albert, actor, United States Navy, winner of the Bronze Star for actions during the Battle of Tarawa in November, 1943.











James Arness, actor, United States Army, severely wounded during the Battle of Anzio.














Ernest Borgnine, actor, United States Navy.


















Charles Bronson, actor, Army Air Corps, tail gunner on B-29.












Charles Durning, actor, United States Army Rangers, participated in the Normandy landings.









Glenn Ford, actor, Canadian but a naturalized US citizen, United States Marine Corps, winner of the Legion d'Honneur.











Clark Gable, actor, Army Air Corps.
















Sterling Hayden, actor, OSS, United States Marine Corps. Winner of the Silver Star.








Charlton Heston, actor, Army Air Corps.
















Lee Marvin, actor, United States Marine Corps.








Glenn Miller, band leader, Captain, Army Air Corps, killed on active duty.















Audie Murphy, actor. Immediately following Japan's sneak attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, Murphy - then just seventeen years old - tried to enlist in the military in order to fight back. But the services rejected him because he had not yet reached the required 18 years of age. Shortly after turning 18 in June of 1942, Murphy was finally accepted into the United States Army, after first being turned down by the Marines and the paratroopers for being underweight and of slight build. He ended up being the most decorated soldier of WWll.


Tyrone Power, actor, United States Marine Corps.











Jimmy Stewart actor, served in the Army Air Corps, predecessor to the U.S. Air Force, Stewart flew 20 combat missions from March of 1941 until the fall of 1945. In the Air Force reserves, he was promoted to brigadier general.













Robert Ryan, actor, United States Marine Corps.





Those were the Americans but there were others who served in their own countries' armed forces.

British actor, Alec Guinness, enlisted with the Royal Navy.














David Niven, actor, British Army, Highland Light Infantry.















Donald Pleasance, actor, Royal Air Force, shot down and tortured by the S.S.


Irishman, Richard Todd, served for six years during World War II, first as an officer in the Yorkshire Light Infantry, then as a paratrooper with the 6th Airborne. Todd was among those who parachuted into France during the D-Day Invasion of 1944; eighteen years later, he played the role of his former commander, Major John Howard, in Darryl F. Zanuck's D-Day recreation The Longest Day (1946.)


Canadian, James Doohan, actor, Royal Canadian Artillery, 3rd Canadian Infantry Division, Royal Canadian Air Force. Severely wounded during the invasion of Normandy at Juno Beach on D-Day.








Last but not least, Elvis Presley. He was drafted but could have applied for a deferment but chose not to.

Transexual chicks

Some people would think of this as the downside of rural life but I think of it as one of the joys of country living: when the most interesting news I've read lately is about chickens.

Just go ahead and accuse me of being of a fully paid up member of AACHCMA (pronouced almost like a sneeze; in such a way that other peoples' responses to it would be, "God bless you") the Association of Apathetic Comfortably Happy Contented Middle-class Americans. Sure, we're at war but it doesn't help to be miserable.

Recently Juanita over at It's a Dog's Life posted this:

In a previous post I talked about my sister's new chicks. I went to visit her Friday afternoon and she took me out to her hen house to show me her hens. She was disturbed because that morning she had heard what sounded a lot like a rooster coming from her backyard. So, I needed to take a look to help her decide if this particular hen is really a hen. Now the females of this breed have a larger comb than most breeds, but this chicken has also started chasing the others around the run. The chicken walked, or rather struted, up to the fence and seemed to look up at me with a challenge. I took one look at it and decided it must be a rooster with the amount of attitude in his stride. Now, I really don't know much about chickens, but I told her I knew some people who do. So, to all you who know chickens, is this a rooster or a hen? We would really like to know.

We all chimed in with comments and I think most of us figured it was a hen that maybe crowed a bit. I suggested that it was just a pushy hen and maybe name it Hillary Clinton and, if it turned out to be a real rooster, eat it. I couldn't suggest what to do with it if it was just pretending to be a rooster like its namesake because that would not have been polite.

I don't remember how old I was when I learned that hens could become roosters. I just remember lots of earnest and excited anecdotes about it. Later I found out that hens could not really become roosters but could just mimic roosters. The hens could assume an alpha role in the absence of a real cock but could never be anatomically capable of being real roosters.

Just last week there was this story on the internet news about a hen that turned into a rooster:

Freaky the hen changes sex into a rooster

BIRD experts have been left baffled by a chicken that has seemingly changed sex from a hen to a rooster.

Freaky started life as a special breed Silver Laced Wyandotte hen more than a year ago.

However, last autumn, instead of being happily wooed by the roosters and laying eggs, Freaky started to act aggressively and developed a distinctive red comb on her head.

She has started to crow, developed a full comb and wattle and grown rooster feathers to lure other hens.

Freaky's owner Jo Richards, a smallholder from Saltford, near Bristol, said she had never seen a chicken act like this before.

Ms Richards, 42, who has kept chickens for more than 10 years, said: "One morning, out of the blue, she just started crowing."

Despite Freaky now looking like a male rooster, she does not have the male attributes to become a father.

A "smallholder" in the UK is a tenant farmer who rents a small piece of land from one of those freaky specimens of poultry called inbred aristocrats.

And;

Hen turns into rooster:

Freaky spent the first eight months of her life laying eggs and being courted by a rooster, reports the Daily Telegraph.

But since last September, the silver-laced Wyandotte has been crowing at sunrise, and even engages in mating -- although the machinery needed to produce offspring is absent.

Said Freaky's owner, Jo Richards of Saltford, near Bath: One morning, out of the blue, she just started crowing.

A veterinarian says Freaky's sex change is indeed very rare.

I have been keeping poultry for 35 years and seen it only twice, said Victoria Roberts, the Poultry Club of Great Britain's honorary vet.

While I was searching for the news items about Freaky that I had read earlier for this post, I found another story:

Rooster becomes 'mother' to 10 chicks

GUANGZHOU, China, April 20 (UPI) -- A rooster was caught behaving like a hen recently as he looked after 10 chicks in a village in China's southeastern Guangdong province.

The rooster not only protected the chicks from attack but also caught worms to feed his brood, China Daily reported Thursday.

The rooster's owner said she bought the rooster and a hen a year ago. But the hen refused to look after the chicks when they hatched, because she had started laying more eggs.

And another story about Freaky:

Hen Puzzles Many By Becoming A Rooster

April 19, 2006 7:15 p.m. EST

Mary K. Brunskill - All Headline News Contributor

(AHN) -- A British hen named Freaky has left many confounded after turning into a male rooster.

She was born over a year ago as a special breed Silver Laced Wyandotte hen. However, after laying dozens of eggs, Freaky started developing masculine characteristics.

A distinctive red comb appeared on her head and her behavior became more aggressive. Now she crows and has grown rooster feathers to lure other hens.

Freaky’s owner, Jo Richards, a smallholder from Saltford, near Bristol, says, "It’s so funny. One morning, out of the blue, she just started crowing."

However, although Freaky now looks like a male rooster, he is not capable of becoming a father.

A hen-to-rooster change in sex is caused by soaring testosterone levels and is approximated to be a one in 10,000 rarity.

"A British hen named Freaky has left many confounded after turning into a male rooster?"

No wonder the world is being taken over by transexuals when journalists can use such language with impunity.

That's like saying, "The bishop of Rome has left many confounded after turning into a Catholic pope.

PS When my bantam gamecock, Bertie Wooster, was in the infirmary (aka spare bedroom) recently due to injuries received while pretending that he was David attacking Goliath and went after Cecil Rhodes, a real rooster ten times his size, one of Bertie's wives took over as alpha hen. Actually two of Bertie's ten wives vied for top dog - or should that be top chicken?

We tried returning Bertie to his harem a couple of times before he was strong enough to withstand the vicious attacks by Goldie Hawn, his second favorite wife. Zsa Zsa Gabor, Bertie's third favorite wife, tried to outpeck Goldie but she's older and not quite the thuggess that she used to be.

We finally returned Bertie to his harem when he was strong enough to stand up after being pecked nearly to death on both sides by his favorite wives. Meanwhile Bertie's first favorite wife, Turandot the Cochin, was sitting on a clutch of ten eggs. Yep, she's motherly and rounded up the eggs of all the other hens who have no maternal instincts. Theres' no accounting for chickens.

Top pic is a silver-laced Wyandotte like Freaky the hen who turned into a rooster. If I was as pretty as that, I'd strut around too.

Bottom pic is of Bertie Wooster sitting next to Zsa Zsa Gabor. Goldie Hawn is just above Zsa Zsa and seems to be looking at something between her legs. Misty aka Mae West is perched above Bertie's head and seems to be giving him the cold shoulder.