UPS Lifer
Well-Known Member
Not sure this qualifies for a pink sunset but it was taken on Kaanapali Beach toward Lanai.
Not sure this qualifies for a pink sunset but it was taken on Kaanapali Beach toward Lanai.
stevetheupsguy
sʇǝʌǝʇɥǝndsƃnʎ
Scissor Tailed Kite
stevetheupsguy
sʇǝʌǝʇɥǝndsƃnʎ
Cormorants
stevetheupsguy
sʇǝʌǝʇɥǝndsƃnʎ
Florida Sunrise!
Paid-over-in-Maine
15 more years of this!
I saw these tanks headed north into Maine while returning to my building one night.
Big Babooba
Well-Known Member
Looks like the invasion of Canada is a go!
Big Babooba
Well-Known Member
Big Babooba
Well-Known Member
Titeflex. This was the former home of Rolls Royce. Later Indian Motocycle moved here.
Big Babooba
Well-Known Member
Should we call the FBI?
helenofcalifornia
Well-Known Member
Do DS and Seal know about the invasion? And are we so hard up for business we are shipping bodies in blue tarps?
Big Babooba
Well-Known Member
Big Babooba
Well-Known Member
The Arsenal at Springfield
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(1807-1882)
This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling,
Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms;
But front their silent pipes no anthem pealing
Startles the villages with strange alarms.
Ah! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary,
When the death-angel touches those swift keys
What loud lament and dismal Miserere
Will mingle with their awful symphonies
I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus,
The cries of agony, the endless groan,
Which, through the ages that have gone before us,
In long reverberations reach our own.
On helm and harness rings the Saxon hammer,
Through Cimbric forest roars the Norseman's song,
And loud, amid the universal clamor,
O'er distant deserts sounds the Tartar gong.
I hear the Florentine, who from his palace
Wheels out his battle-bell with dreadful din,
And Aztec priests upon their teocallis
Beat the wild war-drums made of serpent's skin;
The tumult of each sacked and burning village;
The shout that every prayer for mercy drowns;
The soldiers' revels in the midst of pillage;
The wail of famine in beleaguered towns;
The bursting shell, the gateway wrenched asunder,
The rattling musketry, the clashing blade;
And ever and anon, in tones of thunder,
The diapason of the cannonade.
Is it, O man, with such discordant noises,
With such accursed instruments as these,
Thou drownest Nature's sweet and kindly voices,
And jarrest the celestial harmonies?
Were half the power, that fills the world with terror,
Were half the wealth, bestowed on camps and courts,
Given to redeem the human mind from error,
There were no need of arsenals or forts:
The warrior's name would be a name abhorred!
And every nation, that should lift again
Its hand against a brother, on its forehead
Would wear forevermore the curse of Cain!
Down the dark future, through long generations,
The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease;
And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations,
I hear once more the voice of Christ say, "Peace!"
Peace! and no longer from its brazen portals
The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies!
But beautiful as songs of the immortals,
The holy melodies of love arise.
How somebody got all that from a rack of guns, I'll never know.
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Big Babooba
Well-Known Member
Main Arsenal Building, Springfield Armory
stevetheupsguy
sʇǝʌǝʇɥǝndsƃnʎ
Dinner tonight, yum.
stevetheupsguy
sʇǝʌǝʇɥǝndsƃnʎ
Rub it in, show off!
Come to think of it, she did use a nice rub on it, LOL. This thing barely fit in the George Foreman.
