:::> USA Route 66's Historic Crapbox <:::
-
it scared Tony Blair into calling it the most important report ever to be written in the history of the UK Government...
look to see Big Oil fight it tooth and nailOriginally posted by ndmmxiaomayi:I saw the report...
But still pretty unsure if they would take it seriously. -
There's a saying the greed is the root of all evil.Originally posted by fudgester:In the end, it's $$$$ that dictates the bottom line - even when it comes to the future of planet Earth.
I just find it quite sad that things have to be that way.
In any case, I gotta go now. I know I said I was planning to take the day off studying thanks to the flu, but I find that I've got to at least get some work done.
*me mysteriously disappears in a puff of smoke*
What you think?
See you and rest well. Don't force yourself too hard.
-
define greed. he heOriginally posted by ndmmxiaomayi:There's a saying the greed is the root of all evil.
What you think?
See you and rest well. Don't force yourself too hard. -
Bush will probably call it crap. But I'm waiting to see what UK will do first. And if it influences US to do the same.Originally posted by the Bear:it scared Tony Blair into calling it the most important report ever to be written in the history of the UK Government...
look to see Big Oil fight it tooth and nail -
In terms of money, the more the better.Originally posted by BadzMaro:define greed. he he
It's definitely better to be endless.
Wait, do I have that many trees? -
quick quick...sumone gave me a definition of public affairs
my students asking me to explain wat is that, i know wat is it but i dunno how to explain
-
Hello, all denizens of the Republic!
-
public affairs..
like the Pimp is the Public Affairs man for a Pubic Affairs woman
but seriously, the department that manages the image and is the face of the corporation, which also manages the interaction between the corporation and the public... -
I only know it applies to publicity.Originally posted by rainee:quick quick...sumone gave me a definition of public affairs
my students asking me to explain wat is that, i know wat is it but i dunno how to explain -
Hi and good evening. Your sis tortured you is it?Originally posted by PointBlue:Hello, all denizens of the Republic! -
i oledi explained it in that way to them, but they look like they dun believe it...
-
Dun stalk me lar, how you know?Originally posted by ndmmxiaomayi:Hi and good evening. Your sis tortured you is it? -
Just use scandals as example then.
Those artistes that always run afoul of scandals seems to be quite popular, and their songs sell well.
It's publicity too.
-
well, that's what it is...
from a guy who is from my organisation's Corporate Communications Division.. in the past, it was known as Public Affairs SectionOriginally posted by rainee:i oledi explained it in that way to them, but they look like they dun believe it... -
Seeing how great your sis treated you yesterday, more or less I expected it.Originally posted by PointBlue:Dun stalk me lar, how you know? -
since im working on this poem, might as well share it with you guys..Nothing's Changed by T. Afrika
Small round hard stones click
under my heels,
seeding grasses thrust
bearded seeds
into trouser cuffs, cans,
trodden on, crunch
in tall, purple-flowering,
amiable weeds.
District Six.
No board says it is:
but my feet know,
and my hands,
and the skin about my bones,
and the soft labouring of my lungs,
and the hot, white, inwards turning
anger of my eyes.
Brash with glass,
name flaring like a flag,
it squats
in the grass and weeds,
incipient Port Jackson trees:
new, upmarket, haute cuisine,
guard at the gatepost,
whites only inn.
No sign says it is:
but we know where we belong.
I press my nose
to the clear panes,
I know, before I see them, there will be
crushed ice white glass,
linen falls,
the single rose.
Down the road,
working man's café sells
bunny chows.
Take it with you, eat
it at a plastic table's top,
wipe your fingers on your jeans,
spit a little on the floor:
it's in the bone.
I back from the glass,
boy again,
leaving small, mean O
of small, mean mouth.
Hands burn
for a stone, a bomb,
to shiver down the glass.
Nothing's changed. -
everyone scared away by the poem?
-
/me trots in
-
Never liked literature, so I didn't understand the poemOriginally posted by mystiv:everyone scared away by the poem? 
-
*me mysteriously appears in a puff of smoke*Originally posted by mystiv:everyone scared away by the poem?
I may write my own poetry, but I suck when it comes to commenting on others' pieces. -
me is uncouth person
no understando -
water..seems good
i think i better bath now -
that poem..i give a 2/10
-
man.. that is the gayest poem i heard..Originally posted by mystiv:since im working on this poem, might as well share it with you guys..Nothing's Changed by T. Afrika
Small round hard stones click
under my heels,
seeding grasses thrust
bearded seeds
into trouser cuffs, cans,
trodden on, crunch
in tall, purple-flowering,
amiable weeds.
District Six.
No board says it is:
but my feet know,
and my hands,
and the skin about my bones,
and the soft labouring of my lungs,
and the hot, white, inwards turning
anger of my eyes.
Brash with glass,
name flaring like a flag,
it squats
in the grass and weeds,
incipient Port Jackson trees:
new, upmarket, haute cuisine,
guard at the gatepost,
whites only inn.
No sign says it is:
but we know where we belong.
I press my nose
to the clear panes,
I know, before I see them, there will be
crushed ice white glass,
linen falls,
the single rose.
Down the road,
working man's café sells
bunny chows.
Take it with you, eat
it at a plastic table's top,
wipe your fingers on your jeans,
spit a little on the floor:
it's in the bone.
I back from the glass,
boy again,
leaving small, mean O
of small, mean mouth.
Hands burn
for a stone, a bomb,
to shiver down the glass.
Nothing's changed.
*slaps mystiv* -
is it really that bad?
recommend some good poems la