Justfiguringitout wrote: ↑Thu Feb 05, 2026 10:43 am
ken_sylvania wrote: ↑Thu Feb 05, 2026 9:17 am
Justfiguringitout wrote: ↑Thu Feb 05, 2026 8:12 am Thank you, but it says I am unauthorized to view this forum. Is it because I am in Europe?
It appears that temporal1 is inviting you to join the dark side.
There is a subforum on MennoNet called "Politics" which, due to its content, has been made "opt-in" rather than being shown to all users by default. In this cesspool you may find the inhabitants eagerly slinging insults at one another and "debating" the purported virtues of their chosen political tribes whilst accusing their opponents of all sorts of skullduggery.
If you wish to join the fracas,
this link might take you to the usergroups tab of your User Control Panel where you can select to join the "Plus Politics" group. I understand the requirements for entry are quite easy to meet.
Now you have raised my curiosity to the highest degree. I am going to try!
ay-ya-ya
my twofold attempt to not bunny trail or engage in politics here has had unintended consequences.
The best laid plans of mice and men ..
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/ ... 222ab36e33
To a Mouse
BY ROBERT BURNS
On Turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November 1785.
Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi’ bickerin brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee
Wi’ murd’ring pattle!
I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion
Has broken Nature’s social union,
An’ justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle,
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An’ fellow-mortal!
I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave
’S a sma’ request:
I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,
An’ never miss ’t!
Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!
An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,
O’ foggage green!
An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,
Baith snell an’ keen!
Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste,
An’ weary Winter comin fast,
An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro’ thy cell.
That wee-bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the Winter’s sleety dribble,
An’ cranreuch cauld!
But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men
Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!
Still, thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But Och! I backward cast my e’e,
On prospects drear!
An’ forward tho’ I canna see,
I guess an’ fear!
