Palestinians have a death wish
 

and I think Israel is just about to pull the trigger.

Some things must get much worse before they will get better. There will be much suffering and death.

I remember my dad telling me about the 6 day war. Palestine pushed enough 'til Israel had had enough. Perhaps the Palestinians don't think there will be a repeat?

On a related note - and it may be in poor taste, but I can't help but think that this was funny the first time I saw it - but here's a link to look at:

http://www.bobfromaccounting.com/1_2...utofrocks.html

What is the fascination among Boy Scouts with throwing rocks. I threatened that our next meeting after summer camp would be standing in a field with a box of rocks, throwing til their hearts content.

Not sure about that. The Scouts in my ward love to do it as well - and I'm afraid my son is the ringleader.

Perhaps if you had them divide into two teams and throw them at each other, you could make them realize that while it may be fun, there could be consequences that aren't much fun.

Boys love to throw rocks.

We were at a family vacation home in the San Juans, when my son and his friend "thought" using that term loosely, it would be fun to skip rocks against a newly designed plate glass window. Several thousand dollars later, I thought the fun was less than fun.

LOL.

I had this thing when I was younger, that mysteriously when rocks or baseballs left my hand, they would veer towards objects (people) I was purposefully trying to avoid. I kid you not! It was look I was possessed by the spawn of Bezelbub and a MLB outfielder with pinpoint accuracy for brief moments.

Reminds of another fun time. I was playing whiffleball with a friend at his house. I was about to win, and was pitching. 2-2 he calls my next pitch a ball. I thought it was a strike. He then calls my next pitch a ball also. the ball is rolling out to me. I kick it. It flies into the air as he is absorbed with his batting windup. I look on in fascination and glee as the ball sails towards him. He finally, (and I am seeing this in slow motion now), turns towards me just as the ball cruises right between his eyes. After one trashed bike, some broken pots, and a dented car door, it was safe to say that there was disagreement about what had ensued.

I guess looking back, that in that instant my foot must have been possessed by the spawn of Bezelbub and Pele and the gods of Whiffle Ball. I could never have thrown the ball so accurately as to hit him square between the eyes.

My brother and cousin were fighting over a big rock they found (they were like seven, and it was a pretty good sized rock). So, being the good cousins they are, they decided that instead of fighting they would simply break the rock in half so they each could have a part of the rock. The best way to do this, of course, is to throw it down as hard as you can. Obviously, the best place to do this is right on my grandpa's front porch, which, incidentally, has a couple of big stained glass windows that run the full length of the front wall of the house. When it didn't break the first time, they got excited and wondered if they could get it to bounce. So, while they never got it to bounce, it did roll following one of it's landings, straight through the window. Sorry boys, no more playing that day.

In high school my two buddies and I spent a week over Christmas break camping and surfing in southern California. We set up base at Emma Wood and had a few good days of surf from County Line up to Rincon. Then it went flat. After driving up and down the coast all morning we couldn't find anything that looked like a wave so we went to McDonald's and went back to camp. As we ate at our campsite seagulls were damn near attacking us for our food. So we began to throw rocks at them to shoo them off.

I pick up this one rock about the size of my fist and huck it as hard as I can at this one seagull and pow! I nailed it. The thing went flying end over end until it landed on some rocks on the shore. We ran down to it and it was still alive, just not moving. It appeared that it had a cracked beak and there was some blood. My buddies were telling me that I had to finish the job and put the poor bird out of its misery. I couldn't do it so the three of us ended up sitting on the tailgate of my friend's pickup and watched it for an hour.

Finally, I mustered the courage to do the "humane" thing and as I lifted a large stone over my head to kill the bird with, it miraculously began flapping its wings and squaking and flew off.

I haven't thrown a rock at an animal since.

In my defense, albeit poor defense, I have been nearly killed by seagulls twice in my life. These damn birds pick up clams from the beach and then carry them way up in the air and drop them over the sidewalk or road to crack em up open so they can eat the clam. Twice I have had a clam nearly crack my head open at California Street in Ventura.