Monday, December 31, 2012


To a Glad New Year

Three Musicians 1 - Pablo Picasso, 1921

Toot the trumpets! Strike the strings and sing!
On your feet! Step lively in the dance!
Age and Youth alike are on the wing
Going forward: Time moves like a lance
Let loose by some celestial super strength
Amidst the muck and mire of our dozing
Driving us, reminding that life’s length
Never gives us room for much reposing.
Esurient? Appease the appetites
That feed the soul. The body, gross and vile,
Yields but sickly transient delights ~
Evoking ennui with a knowing smile.
Awake! A blessed New Year is at hand!
Resolve to love and give without demand!

Three Musicians 2 - Pablo Picasso, 1921

~ FreeThinke, 1996

Sunday, December 30, 2012


LEST WE FORGET

The Benghazi Blues

Amnesia? Aphasia? Evasia?

With no hesitation or blushin’
Her Heinous sidestepped The Discussion.
She felt testifying
Would be far too trying,
So she managed to have a concussion!

~ FreeThinke

UPDATE: We were very sorry learn this morning (January 31, 2012) that Mrs. Clinton has been hospitalized with a blood clot in an undisclosed location. Aside from her usual unappealing demeanor and bearing, she has not been looking at all well lately. We wish her a speedy recovery, and hope she has the good sense now to retire once and for all from the political arena, and give herself –– and the rest of us –– some much-needed relief. - FT


Friday, December 28, 2012


WAVE of the FUTURE for the USA?

Germany Accused of 'Deporting' 
Its Elderly: 

Rising numbers moved to Asia and Eastern Europe because of sky-high care costs


Friday, Dec 28 2012 

Country's elderly and sick being sent abroad due to rising care costs
Situation described as 'inhumane deportation' and a huge 'alarm signal'
Warning to Britain where pensioners are selling homes to pay for healthcare


PUBLISHED: 17:10 EST, 27 December 2012

German pensioners are being sent to care homes in Eastern Europe and Asia in what has been described as an ‘inhumane deportation’.

Rising numbers of the elderly and sick are moved overseas for long-term care because of sky-high costs at home.

Some private healthcare providers are even building homes overseas, while state insurers are also investigating whether they can care for their clients abroad.

Experts describe a time bomb’ of increasing numbers unable to afford the growing costs of retirement homes.

And they say the situation should be a warning to Britain, where rising numbers of pensioners are forced to sell their homes to pay for care.

The Sozialverband Deutschland (VdK), a socio-political advisory group, said the fact that many Germans were unable to afford the costs of a retirement home in their own country was a huge ‘alarm signal.’

‘We simply cannot let those people, who built Germany up to be what it is, be deported,’ VdK’s president Ulrike Mascher told The Guardian. ‘It is inhumane.’


More...



Researchers found an estimated 7,146 German pensioners living in retirement homes in Hungary in 2011.

More than 3,000 were in the Czech Republic and more than 600 in Slovakia. There were also unknown numbers in Spain, Greece and the Ukraine, as well as Thailand and the Philippines.

Some told researchers they were there out of choice as costs were lower, while standards of care were often higher.

But many others admitted they moved reluctantly.

According to Germany’s federal bureau of statistics, more than 400,000 senior citizens cannot afford a German retirement home, a figure growing by around 5 per cent a year. This is because many are living for longer while their pensions are stagnating.

As a result, the Krankenkassen – or statutory insurers that make up Germany’s state insurance system – are discussing cheaper care in foreign retirement homes.

EU law prevents state insurers from signing contracts with overseas homes.

But that is likely to change as legislators are forced to respond to Europe’s aging population.

Artur Frank, the owner of Senior Palace – which finds care homes for Germans in Slovakia – said it was wrong to suggest senior citizens were being ‘deported.’

‘Many are here of their own free will, the results of sensible decisions by their families who know they will be better off,’ he said.




KWANZAA: HOLIDAY BROUGHT TO YOU 
BY THE FBI

“ ... It's as if David Duke invented a holiday called "Anglika," which he based on the philosophy of "Mein Kampf" –– and clueless public school teachers began celebrating the made-up, racist holiday. ...”

December 26, 2012

by Ann Coulter

Is it just me, or does Kwanzaa seem to come earlier and earlier each year? And let's face it, Kwanzaa's gotten way too commercialized. 

A few years ago, I suspended my annual Kwanzaa column because my triumph over this fake holiday seemed complete. The only people still celebrating Kwanzaa were presidential-statement writers and white female public school teachers. 

But it seems to be creeping back. A few weeks ago, House Minority Leader Rep. Nancy Pelosi, D-Calif., complained about having to stick around Washington for fiscal cliff negotiations by accusing Republicans of not caring about "families" coming together to bond during Kwanzaa. The private schools have picked up this PC nonsense from the public schools. (Soon, no one will know anything.) 

It is a fact that Kwanzaa was invented in 1966 by a black radical FBI stooge, Ron Karenga –– aka Dr. Maulana Karenga –– founder of United Slaves, a violent nationalist rival to the Black Panthers. He was also a dupe of the FBI. 

In what was ultimately a foolish gamble, during the madness of the '60s, the FBI encouraged the most extreme black nationalist organizations in order to discredit and split the left. The more preposterous the group, the better. 

By that criterion, Karenga's United Slaves was perfect. In the annals of the American '60s, Karenga was the Father Gapon, stooge of the czarist police. 

Despite modern perceptions that blend all the black activists of the '60s, the Black Panthers did not hate whites. They did not seek armed revolution (although some of their most high-profile leaders were drug dealers and murderers). Those were the precepts of Karenga's United Slaves. 

United Slaves were proto-fascists, walking around in dashikis, gunning down Black Panthers and adopting invented "African" names. (That was a big help to the black community: How many boys named "Jamal" are currently in prison?)


It's as if David Duke invented a holiday called "Anglika," which he based on the philosophy of "Mein Kampf" -- and clueless public school teachers began celebrating the made-up, racist holiday. 

Whether Karenga was a willing dupe, or just a dupe, remains unclear. 

Curiously, in a 1995 interview with Ethnic NewsWatch, Karenga matter-of-factly explained that the forces out to get O.J. Simpson for the "framed" murder of two whites included: "the FBI, the CIA, the State Department, Interpol, the Chicago Police Department" and so on. Karenga should know about FBI infiltration. (He further noted that the evidence against O.J. "was not strong enough to prohibit or eliminate unreasonable doubt" -- an interesting standard of proof.) 

In the category of the-gentleman-doth-protest-too-much, back in the '70s, Karenga was quick to criticize rumors that black radicals were government-supported. When Nigerian newspapers claimed that some American black radicals were CIA operatives, Karenga publicly denounced the idea, saying, "Africans must stop generalizing about the loyalties and motives of Afro-Americans, including the widespread suspicion of black Americans being CIA agents." 

Now we know that the FBI fueled the bloody rivalry between the Panthers and United Slaves. In one barbarous outburst, Karenga's United Slaves shot to death two Black Panthers on the UCLA campus: Al "Bunchy" Carter and John Huggins. Karenga himself served time, a useful stepping-stone for his current position as a black studies professor at California State University at Long Beach. 

Karenga's invented holiday is a nutty blend of schmaltzy '60s rhetoric, black racism and Marxism. The seven principles of Kwanzaa are the very same seven principles of the Symbionese Liberation Army, another charming legacy of the Worst Generation. 

In 1974, Patricia Hearst, kidnap victim-cum-SLA revolutionary, posed next to the banner of her alleged captors, a seven-headed cobra. Each snake head stood for one of the SLA's revolutionary principles: Umoja, Kujichagulia, Ujima, Ujamaa, Nia, Kuumba and Imani -- the exact same seven "principles" of Kwanzaa. 

Kwanzaa praises collectivism in every possible area of life -- economics, work, personality, even litter removal. ("Kuumba: Everyone should strive to improve the community and make it more beautiful.") It takes a village to raise a police snitch. 

When Karenga was asked to distinguish Kawaida, the philosophy underlying Kwanzaa, from "classical Marxism," he essentially said that, under Kawaida, we also hate whites. (Kawaida, Kwanzaa and Kuumba are also the only three Kardashian sisters not to have their own shows on the E! network.) 

While taking the "best of early Chinese and Cuban socialism" -- excluding, one hopes, the forced abortions, imprisonment of homosexuals and forced labor -- Karenga said Kawaida practitioners believe one's racial identity "determines life conditions, life chances and self-understanding." There's an inclusive philosophy for you. 

Kwanzaa was the result of a '60s psychosis grafted onto the black community. Liberals have become so mesmerized by multicultural nonsense that they have forgotten the real history of Kwanzaa and Karenga's United Slaves -- the violence, the Marxism, the insanity. 

Most absurdly, for leftists anyway, they have forgotten the FBI's tacit encouragement of this murderous black nationalist cult founded by the father of Kwanzaa. 

Kwanzaa emerged not from Africa, but from the FBI's COINTELPRO. It is a holiday celebrated exclusively by idiot white liberals. Black people celebrate Christmas. (Merry Christmas, fellow Christians!) 

Sing to "Jingle Bells": 

Kwanzaa bells, dashikis sell 
Whitey has to pay; 
Burning, shooting, oh what fun 
On this made-up holiday! 


Thursday, December 27, 2012

A CONCERT of MUSIC for EACH of the 
TWELVE DAYS of CHRISTMAS
Look back to December 23, then move forward 
and enjoy what you may have missed

I'm stayin' put till I hear every note of it


1. Amahl and the Night Visitors • 
2. O Holy Night  • 
3. I Wonder As I Wander  • 
4. Il Est Ne, Le Divin Enfant • 
5. For Unto Us A Child Is Born  • 
6. O Magnum Mysterium • 
7. Rejoice , O Daughter of Zion • 
8. Ding Dong Merrily on High • 
9. Christmas Day, a Choral Fantasy • 
10. Lo How a Rose E'er Blooming • 
11. We Wish You a Merry Christmas • 
12. Flash Mob Hallelujah!



Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS 

 The Philadelphia Brass Ensemble


Es ist ein Ros entsprungen 
(Lo, how a rose e'er blooming)


CHRISTMAS DAY 

A Choral Fantasy On Familiar Carols 

 by Gustav Holst



HEAR YE! 
HEAR YE! HEAR YE!

To help celebrate this Christmas Season we have posted a series of examples of the finest performances we could find of sacred music composed especially for the Christmas Season.

Starting yesterday after first posting the original television broadcast of Amahl and the Night Visitors in its entirety, we offer splendid performances of the following:


O Holy Night 

~§~

I Wonder As I Wander 

~§~

Il est ne, le divin enfant

~§~

For Unto Us A Child Is Born 

~§~

O Magnum Mysterium 

~§~

Rejoice , O Daughter of Zion 

~§~

Ding Dong Merrily on High

~§~

Christmas Day, a Choral Fantasy 

~§~

Please feel free to wander back and forth through these individual selections, and enjoy them in no particular order, as ~ or if ~ the mood strikes. They'll be here all Christmas week and beyond.

Merry Christmas!!!


Ding Dong Merrily On High



Pro Coro Canada 

performs this delightful arrangement by Swedish composer 
Anders Ă–hrwall of the traditional Christmas Carol

Jeremy Spurgeon, organist

Richard Sparks, Artistic Director

MESSIAH 

Rejoice Greatly, O daughter of Zion 

And He shall Feed his Flock 

by George Frederick Handel 

Lynne Dawson, soprano 

Choir of Kings College, Cambridge 

Stephen Cleobury, Conductor


O Magnum Mysterium 

 by Tomas Luis de Victoria

MESSIAH 

For Unto Us a Child is Born 

by George Frederick Handel 

The Monteverdi Choir 

 John Eliot Gardiner, conductor


Il est ne, le divin enfant


Monday, December 24, 2012

I WONDER AS I WANDER 

John Jacob Niles arr. by John Rutter

THE CAMBRIDGE SINGERS

Cantique de Noel (O Holy Night) 

 by Adolphe Adam 

 Sung by Kathleen Battle


Amahl and the Night Visitors

A Children's Opera 

written specifically for television by 

Gian Carlo Mennotti

The video offers the Original Television Broadcast
from 1951 in its entirety.

Sunday, December 23, 2012


The Little Match Girl

Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and evening –– the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet. When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but what was the good of that? They were very large slippers, which her mother had hitherto worn; so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them as she scuffled away across the street, because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully fast.

One slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had been laid hold of by an urchin, and off he ran with it; he thought it would do capitally for a cradle when he some day or other should have children himself. So the little maiden walked on with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red and blue from cold. She carried a quantity of matches in an old apron, and she held a bundle of them in her hand. Nobody had bought anything of her the whole livelong day; no one had given her a single farthing.

She crept along trembling with cold and hunger--a very picture of sorrow, the poor little thing!

The flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which fell in beautiful curls around her neck; but of that, of course, she never once now thought. From all the windows the candles were gleaming, and it smelt so deliciously of roast goose, for you know it was New Year's Eve; yes, of that she thought.

In a corner formed by two houses, of which one advanced more than the other, she seated herself down and cowered together. Her little feet she had drawn close up to her, but she grew colder and colder, and to go home she did not venture, for she had not sold any matches and could not bring a farthing of money: from her father she would certainly get blows, and at home it was cold too, for above her she had only the roof, through which the wind whistled, even though the largest cracks were stopped up with straw and rags.

Her little hands were almost numbed with cold. Oh! a match might afford her a world of comfort, if she only dared take a single one out of the bundle, draw it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. She drew one out. "Rischt!" how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm, bright flame, like a candle, as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light. It seemed really to the little maiden as though she were sitting before a large iron stove, with burnished brass feet and a brass ornament at top. The fire burned with such blessed influence; it warmed so delightfully. The little girl had already stretched out her feet to warm them too; but--the small flame went out, the stove vanished: she had only the remains of the burnt-out match in her hand.

She rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly, and where the light fell on the wall, there the wall became transparent like a veil, so that she could see into the room. On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth; upon it was a splendid porcelain service, and the roast goose was steaming famously with its stuffing of apple and dried plums. And what was still more capital to behold was, the goose hopped down from the dish, reeled about on the floor with knife and fork in its breast, till it came up to the poor little girl; when--the match went out and nothing but the thick, cold, damp wall was left behind. She lighted another match. Now there she was sitting under the most magnificent Christmas tree: it was still larger, and more decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door in the rich merchant's house.


Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches, and gaily-colored pictures, such as she had seen in the shop-windows, looked down upon her. The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them when--the match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher, she saw them now as stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a long trail of fire.

"Someone is just dead!" said the little girl; for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now no more, had told her, that when a star falls, a soul ascends to God.

She drew another match against the wall: it was again light, and in the lustre there stood the old grandmother, so bright and radiant, so mild, and with such an expression of love.





"Grandmother!" cried the little one. "Oh, take me with you! You go away when the match burns out; you vanish like the warm stove, like the delicious roast goose, and like the magnificent Christmas tree!" And she rubbed the whole bundle of matches quickly against the wall, for she wanted to be quite sure of keeping her grandmother near her. And the matches gave such a brilliant light that it was brighter than at noon-day: never formerly had the grandmother been so beautiful and so tall. She took the little maiden, on her arm, and both flew in brightness and in joy so high, so very high, and then above was neither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety –– they were with God.

But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the poor girl, with rosy cheeks and with a smiling mouth, leaning against the wall--frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. Stiff and stark sat the child there with her matches, of which one bundle had been burnt. "She wanted to warm herself," people said. No one had the slightest suspicion of what beautiful things she had seen; no one even dreamed of the splendor in which, with her grandmother she had entered on the joys of a new year.


~ Hans Christian Andersen (1805-1875)