Chiun: Fear is just a feeling. You feel hot. You feel hungry. You feel angry. You feel afraid. Fear can never kill you.
Synopsis from IMDB: An NYPD cop is ‘killed’ in an accident. The death is faked, and he is inducted into the organization CURE, dedicated to preserving the constitution by working outside of it. Remo is to become the enforcement wing (assassin) of CURE, and learns an ancient Korean martial art from Chiun, the Master of Sinanju. Based on the popular pulp series “The Destroyer,” by Richard Sapir and Warren Murphy.
I like this saying even more, but there is no Youtube Clip.
Remo Williams: How old are you, Chiun. I mean really, you must be pretty old, right?
Chiun: For an apricot, yes. For a head of lettuce, even more so. For a mountain, I have not even begun. For a man, just right.
Nice bit of Trivia: Some of the actors who auditioned for the part of Remo Williams claimed to be proficient in the martial art of Sinanju, not realizing it was a fiction derived from the Destroyer novels on which the movie was based.
There are two freedoms: the false where a man is free to do what he likes; and the true where a man is free to do as he ought. Charles Kingsley
Charles Kingsley (12 June 1819 – 23 January 1875) was a priest of the Church of England, a university professor, historian and novelist. He is particularly associated with the West Country and northeast Hampshire. He was a friend and correspondent with Charles Darwin
My wife, she can’t cook at all. When we go on a picnic, I bring Tums for the ants. Rodney Dangerfield
Rodney Dangerfield (born Jacob Rodney Cohen, November 22, 1921 – October 5, 2004) was an American comedian and actor, known for the catchphrase “I don’t get no respect!” and his monologues on that theme. He is also remembered for his 1980s film roles, especially in Easy Money, Caddyshack, and Back to School.
Very, very funny man, and from what I have read he was hugely instrumental in helping a lot of young comedians.
Will: Why shouldn’t I work for the N.S.A.? That’s a tough one, but I’ll take a shot. Say I’m working at N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I’m real happy with myself, ’cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never met, never had no problem with, get killed. Now the politicians are sayin’, “Oh, send in the Marines to secure the area” ’cause they don’t give a shit. It won’t be their kid over there, gettin’ shot. Just like it wasn’t them when their number got called, ’cause they were pullin’ a tour in the National Guard. It’ll be some kid from Southie takin’ shrapnel in the ass. And he comes back to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, ’cause he’ll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile, he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And, of course, the oil companies used the skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices. A cute little ancillary benefit for them, but it ain’t helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And they’re takin’ their sweet time bringin’ the oil back, of course, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and fuckin’ play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain’t too long ’til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So now my buddy’s out of work and he can’t afford to drive, so he’s got to walk to the fuckin’ job interviews, which sucks ’cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin’ him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he’s starvin’, ’cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat, the only blue plate special they’re servin’ is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what did I think? I’m holdin’ out for somethin’ better. I figure fuck it, while I’m at it why not just shoot my buddy, take his job, give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president.
Great movie made up of so many fantastic speeches, which made up fantastic scenes, which made real by great actors.
Most people fear being lost, they wonder how they will get to where they need to be. Lost people by definition are lacking an understanding of where they are and more importantly how to get where they want to be.
If you put a young urban person deep in the woods at night, someone who has spent little to no time in the wild their fears grow and they will have a terrible night. But if you put an experienced and well trained person far in the back country away from the lights and comforts of modern life they may have a difficult time but they might even enjoy some aspects of their time. Surviving being lost means you were successful, while dying well that is a failure in anyone’s book.
So when I say that I enjoy being lost I mean it. I have an almost unerring sense of geographic direction. I can almost always determine which way is north, or where I parked my car, or even when hundreds or thousands miles away point towards the direction of home.
This is not bragging, it was something I was born with, an innate talent or gift. I love maps, globes and compasses, but that is probably because I so easily understand them and what they represent. Being lost is pretty novel experience for me so I enjoy it when it does occur. I occasionally get turned around in a new area and enjoy being surprised of where I turn up. Unfortunately this only happens once because once I get the lay of the land down I can find my way back even years later.
Recently I have become lost in my personal life, my wife of twenty-two years left me. My life was very stable, I knew what I believed, I knew who I was going to spend my life with and at least for an extended time frame, where I was going to live. A consequence of my marriage dissolving was my suburban home of fourteen years was returned to the bank and I had to move into a neighborhood in a major city for the first time in my life. I no longer have a car or television set (both my choice). I had my bicycle stolen and my first friend in the new neighborhood died suddenly one night. Looking forward I will have to find another place soon so the ground underneath my feet is still far from solid. But over the last 22 months these circumstances have helped me rediscover things I had forgotten about myself.
I have realized that being lost is more of an adventure and not to be feared. Maybe what comforts me when I am lost is I know myself. I know who I am and what I am capable of.
One of the first rules of being successfully lost is taking stock, what do you have on you that can help you survive. Personally I am realizing how much material things are tying me down, that is pretty obvious when you are looking to move, again. I lost my two story house, three bedroom home with a garage and moved to a small row house with a tiny backyard and soon some unknown place. Do I really need two couches when I really don’t do any entertaining. How many clothes do I need when I look at a full closet and realize I haven’t worn a majority of them in a long time.
Being successfully lost forces you to remaining calm and focus on the positive instead of the negative.
One positive thing I have relearned is I really like talking to women. During my marriage I avoided friendships with women; for a variety of reasons. I have worked in very male dominated professions, the U.S. Army, law enforcement and prisons; also I did not think it was appropriate for a married man to have new female friends unless they were along his wife.
But over the past several months I have enjoyed talking to women more than ever. Don’t get me wrong my male friends have been a rock to me during this time, and the people I am closest to are my mates who not only share a long history with me but share similar interests. Women though are so different from men. I can talk to a man for about ten to fifteen minutes and I can pretty much tell you what my next five conversations will cover. However with women I have no idea what a conversation will entail, will we talk about their work? their favorite food? or perhaps what ticked them off on the way to work today?
I have met so many fascinating women, this is incredibly positive allowing me to forget the negatives of my favorite female friend leaving me. I am not interested in dating or any other romantic liaisons or affairs, but I love to spending time with women.
I was working at a hospital a couple of weekends back guarding a prisoner. Surprise, surprise I met a nurse. She was kind, smart and funny, and yes she was cute, with long reddish hair and some freckles that remind me of Lucy Liu, she had worked in Harrisburg for a while for a Senator then as a lobbyist and had a Master Degree in Public Affairs, then when her father got sick she went back to school and became a nurse and has been one for a couple of years. I made a half hearted attempt to get her phone number, I probably didn’t give it my full effort because I was undecided weather I should or not, internally debating if I had mourned the end of marriage enough. (Still a little uncertain on that issue.)
Then there matter of my personal beliefs about God, religion and faith. Let me just say without going into details my views have changed. What once was a certainty in my mind has now become less so. But I still know who I am, and why I am here.
So I will continue discovering the world around me and finding my way, but along with everything I already know, I am really enjoying being lost and uncertain.
Mr. Speaker, I rise today in honor of a constituent of mine, Mr. George M. Moore. I have the pleasure of knowing George personally, and I am proud to recognize him. Tonight, George will carry the Olympic torch in Martinsburg, West Virginia.
Although George considers this a once in a lifetime opportunity, it will actually be his second time to run the Olympic torch. Seventeen years ago, George carried the flame for the 1984 Olympic games.
In service to our country, George Moore has sacrificed much. As a United States Air Force fighter pilot, Moore did two tours of duty in Vietnam from 1967 to 1970, when his plane crashed into runway construction. Injuries from this accident put George in a wheelchair. He was only 26 at the time.
Today George Moore is an active member of our West Virginia community. He serves as the director of the Martinsburg Veterans Affairs Medical Center. He is a devoted father and husband. His active life is proof that George has the ability to overcome any challenge or obstacle with which he is faced.
In the Olympic spirit, George has dedicated his stretch with the torch to the victims of the September 11th terrorist attacks. His compassionate and determined approach to life is impressive and truly embodies the Olympic spirit.
George Moore is an inspiration to all of his fellow West Virginians. George is extremely deserving of this privilege of carrying the Olympic torch in our home state of West Virginia. I am honored to commend George Moore and I wish him all the best tonight.