Whether or not our system of Indian management has been a success during the past ten, fifty, or hundred years is almost answered in the asking.
quote by Nelson A. Miles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
There are one-hundred fifty-four games in a season and you can find one-hundred fifty-four reasons why your team should have won every one of them.
A Hundred Years From Now
(words & music by flatt - scruggs)
Well a hundred years from now I wont be crying
A hundred years from now I wont be blue
My heart will have to forget that we ever met
But I wont care a hundred years from now
Ill never forget sweetheart the night you told me
That you could live without my love somehow
Thats all in the past I knew it wouldnt last
But I wont care a hundred years from now
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lady Of The Lake
Today I talked
to the old lady
who lives across the way
she said she died
a hundred years ago today
She told me
of the time she saw me
fishing in the lake
I had to laugh
I said
if You've been dead
for a hundred years
it couldn't have been me
you saw fishing in the lake
I'm not even fifty yet
She said
have you ever seen me
walk out of this garden
or talk to anybody else
I said
you've got me there
but like I said
if you died a hundred
years ago today
it couldn't have been me
you saw fishing in the lake
She said
a hundred years ago today
you drowned trying to save me
now it's time to except
that you are dead
poem by Dave Alan Walker
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The first myth of management is that it exists. The second myth of management is that success equals skill.
quote by Robert Heller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Hundred Years From Now
(Marty Stuart)
When you left I nearly lost my mind
And I tried to drown my sorrow
Every night in warm, red wine
My old heart's broke to pieces
But I'll get by somehow
Cause I won't care, Lord, a hundred years from now
From the top of this old world
To the bottom of the glass
I've thrown away my future
By drownin' out the past
When you walked out the door
Girl, you broke every vow
But I won't care a hundred years from now...
Tonight I'm hurtin'
In an old familiar way
Lord, I've got lots of reasons
Why I come here every day
Lord, I'm tired of lovin' lonesome
That's how old Travis feels right now
But I won't care a hundred years from now...
From the top of this old world
To the bottom of the glass
I've thrown away my future
By drownin' out the past
When you walked out the door
Girl, you broke every vow
But I won't care a hundred years from now...
Lord, I won't care a hundred years from now...
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Success in management and success in sport are derived from the same basic principles.
quote by Will Carling
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Fifty Year Old Woman
That fifty year old woman
she is someones mother
that fifty year old woman
she is someones lover
them fifty years of her life
unseen by a cover.
Covered by the leaves
from the autumn trees is the grass
surrounded by blue tape
and nosey people who pretend to pass
a group of actors walk by
they have come from a history class
to make history new
with conversation with questions to ask.
A fifty year old woman
in an autumn so cold
a fifty year old woman
seen dark winter unfold
them fifty years of life
it is all we are told.
The actors, they didn't get any information
they did not get pictures
nothing known about the situation
nothing at all to discuss
fifty years of age is all thats said
on the morning paper on the fifty bus
thats all thats said
a fifty year old woman, shes found dead.
That fifty year old woman
shes not someones mother
that fifty year old woman
how she had no lover
them fifty years of life
unseen by a cover.
That fifty year old woman
she was quoted in the paper today
that fifty year old woman will be gone tomorrow
the writers they will show no sorrow
because its the way things work
as people pass
she no longer lies on grass
shes covered in dirt.
poem by Daniel McCann
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Midnight
They put away the DDT now
But gave metal to the sea
A hundred years can't wait
A hundred years can't wait another day
The only eagle, only tree
Within a desert that was green
A hundred years can't wait
A hundred years can't wait another day
Midnight
Draws ever near
Daylight
Is fading so fast
It's so close to midnight
Midnight
The melting ice will fuel the sea
By burning gold from ancient tree
A hundred years can't wait
A hundred years can't wait another day
This is progress, this is sin
Injecting poison in her skin
A hundred years can't wait
A hundred years can't wait another day
Midnight
Draws ever near
Daylight
Is fading so fast
It's so close to midnight
Midnight
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lust Is Building Up
Devika, a south Indian actress,
Stood more seductive in the movie
That I saw again after fifty years.
The body aging, lust is building up.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Crossing Fifty
Crossing fifty now,
holding kgs of hundred;
Grey grown head and
glistening forehead.
Climbed peak of hill
now time to slope down;
With several branches
chunky tree is grown.
Putting a step further
at stair of growing old;
Celebrating golden jubilee
fifty years behold.
Amassed the ruggedness,
experience, knowledge;
To surrender to the world
carrying responsibilities.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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57 Channels
I bought a bourgeois house in the hollywood hills
With a truckload of hundred thousand dollar bills
Man came by to hook up my cable tv
We settled in for the night my baby and me
We switched 'round and 'round 'til half-past dawn
There was fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Well now home entertainment was my baby's wish
So i hopped into town for a satellite dish
I tied it to the top of my japanese car
I came home and i pointed it out into the stars
A message came back from the great beyond
There's fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Well we might'a made some friends with some billionaires
We might'a got all nice and friendly if we'd made it upstairs
All i got was a note that said "bye-bye john
Our love is fifty-seven channels and nothin' on"
So i bought a .44 magnum it was solid steel cast
And in the blessed name of elvis well i just let it blast
'til my tv lay in pieces there at my feet
And they busted me for disturbing the almighty peace
Judge said "what you got in your defense son?"
"fifty-seven channels and nothin' on"
I can see by your eyes friend you're just about gone
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on...
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Middle age
Life is also a mathematics
number of breaths are counted.
Maths sometimes works on assumption
let's presume the life be hundred.
Mid point of hundred is fifty
that must be the middle age.
Till twenty five we fill up the energy
for perfect propelling in space.
Next twenty five climb the hill
attain the adventurous peak.
After fifty sloping down starts
hill's other side in life's journey.
In childhood god is with you
in old age you search the God.
Remaining period been struggling
of your pitch to become the lord.
In evening of life wait for sunset
visiting doctors or consuming pills.
Own energy is now exhausted
depend on wind like the windmill.
The beauty of the morning and
radiance of noon are till fifty.
after fifty sun starts going down
towards the evening tranquillity.
Between adolescence and old
say between twenty and seventy,
second half of it is heavier so
the balancing point
is
fifty.
(C) S. D. Tiwari
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Fifty Years Of Marriage
With dye and hair colouring they cover their gray
Their fifty years of marriage they celebrate today
Through fifty years of marriage they have argued their way
In their love hate relationship one well might say.
Their better days one can say for them are long gone
And they age without grace though time is ticking on
Their children are grand-parents and the years on them show
Since they too are ageing and their fastest pace slow.
Fifty happy years together by some we are told
But others who know them well and with their words more bold
Will tell you they never did see eye to eye
But why they stay together one must wonder why.
They have stayed together for so many years
One can hardly say of them the lovely old dears
Since they both are quite quarrelsome and grumpy as well
Perhaps without quarrels life for them would be hell.
Fifty years together and the same bed they share
Yet even in public places at each other they swear
Such marriages as their's suppose never were rare
They are not the World's only dysfunctional pair.
Today their descendants will celebrate the marriage of their Pop and Gran
And applaud this wonderful woman and man
But the truth of their marriage they will never tell
How they seem to enjoy giving each other hell.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Jim Thorpe
Born in May of Eighteen eighty-eight
Though the birth record is obscure
In Oklahoma, in a one room cabin
With brother Charlie, of that we're sure.
His father, Hiram, was a farmer
Mother, Mary James, a Pottawatomie
Descendant of the Chief, Black Hawk
A Warrior with an athletic history.
His Indian name of Wa-Tho-Huk
Translated meaning of “Bright Path”
As his future really seemed to be
Before the typical white man's wrath.
His twin brother passed away at nine
Then in the year, Nineteen, ought four
He attended the Carlisle Indian School
Where he learned football, track, and more.
Trained by legend, Glenn “Pop” Warner
Who had the unique insight to see
The young phenomenon evolving
Into, the great athlete, he would be.
All-American in Nineteen 0-nine
And soon, on the Olympic Team
Sailing across the sea to Sweden
The answer to many-a-youngster's dream.
He trained on board on the journey
And he must have done it very well
For he blew away his competitors
That's what, long lasting records tell.
In the Pentathlon and Decathlon
He won a Gold Medal in each
And it seemed any goal he went for
For him, would be an easy reach.
Gustav, the King of Sweden said it best
After the Nineteen twelve Olympics
“Sir, you are the greatest athlete in the world.”
After witnessing, Thorpe's sporting epics.
And, not one to stand on ceremony
That sometimes, great success can bring
He answered, honestly and simply
As they shook hands, and said, “Thanks, King.”
But, it came out after the Olympics
He'd played some semi-pro baseball
They said his medals were illegal
And the Committee issued a recall.
His name was removed from the records
And his Gold Medals taken away
But, with style he just moved on
To play the games he loved to play.
He signed with the New York Giants
And played with the Reds in Cincinnati
Ending up with the Boston Braves
On his baseball playing odyssey.
At the same time he played football
For teams like Canton, Cleveland, and Chicago
Helped form what is now, the NFL
Which a lot of folks probably don't know.
He worked for awhile in the movies
As boss of the Chicago Park System
Involved in matters of Indian Affairs
A song and dance troupe named after him.
He was named, “the greatest football player”
By the Associated Press in Nineteen fifty
And, “the greatest overall male athlete”
One of the best that we will ever see.
In Fifty-three he had a heart attack
And on the New York Times front page
They said we'd lost, “a marvelous performer”
From this world's sporting stage.
But he was so much more than that
With his dignity and quiet grace
One of those very special people
Who have made this world a better place.
He was subjected to the racism
That, “Indian athlete” and “Redskin”
And it eventually took it's toll
Lead to poverty and alcoholism.
Thirty years after his passing
His Olympic Medals were finally restored
Along with many posthumous honors
Much too late, for his just reward.
He's just another great American
Born of the Natives of this land
Who never knew and/or never saw
Real American freedoms, take a stand.
Security is always going to be a cat and mouse game because there'll be people out there that are hunting for the zero day award, you have people that don't have configuration management, don't have vulnerability management, don't have patch management.
quote by Kevin Mitnick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Times
Our Times
13.7 billion years ago
4.5 billion years ago
3.5 billion years ago
200 thousand years ago
10,000 years ago
5000 years ago
3500 years ago
1800 years ago
500 years ago
50 years ago
One hundred years from now
Five hundred years from now
Ten million years from now
Ten billion years from now
We are where we are now
Where are we now?
Who are we now?
What will we be?
When?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Ballad Of Ira Hayes
(Peter LaFarge)
Gather round me people and a story I will tell
?Bout a brave young Indian lad, you should remember well,
From a tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and peaceful band
Who farmed the Phoenix Valley out in Arizona land.
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed
Till the white man stole the water rights and the running water hushed.
Ira's folks was hungry, their fields grew thick with weeds,
But when war came Ira volunteered and forgot the white man's greed.
Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking Indian or Marine who went to war.
Well, they battled up Iwo Jima Hill, two hundred and fifty men
But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again.
And after the fight was over and Old Glory proudly raised,
Among the men who held her high was an Indian, Ira Hayes.
Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking Indian or Marine who went to war.
Well, Ira Hayes returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land,
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand.
But he's just a Pima Indian, no food, no friend, no chance,
And nobody cared what Ira did and when do the Indians dance.
Well, Ira took to drinking hard, jail often was his home,
They used to let him raise the flag there and lower it just like you'd throw a dog a bone.
And Ira died drunk early one morning all alone in the land he'd fought to save.
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for Ira Hayes.
Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking Indian or Marine who went to war.
Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes, but his lan
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Suicide
For fifty years,
Cruel, insatiable Old World.
You have punched me over the heart
Till you made me cough blood.
The few paltry things I gathered
You snatched out of my hands.
You have knocked the cup from my thirsty lips.
You have laughed at my hunger of body and soul.
You look at me now and think,
'He is still strong,
There ought to be twenty more years of good punching there.
At the end of that time he will be old and broken,
Not able to strike back,
But cringing and crying for leave
To live a little longer.'
Those twenty, pitiful, extra years
Would please you more than the fifty past,
Would they not, Old World?
Well, I hold them up before your greedy eyes,
And snatch them away as I laugh in your face,
Ha! Ha!
Bang —!
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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This Tree -Lined Street/ I Walk Down Everyday
THE TREE –LINED STREET / I WALK DOWN EVERYDAY
The tree- lined street
I walk down everyday
Its beauty-
How long has it been this way?
Twenty? Fifty years?
How many years will it remain?
Everything goes away
A hundred years? Two – thousand years?
All is waiting
To go away forever-
And what will become of all this world?
These beauties we have seen?
Another day. Another day.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Ten Little Indians
Ten little indian boys
The first little indian gave squaw pretty feather
(little indian boy)
The second little indian made her an indian dollar
(fighting over a squaw)
Well the third little indian gave her moccasin leather
(little indian boy)
The squaw didnt like em at all
The fourth little indian took her riding in his big canoe
(little indian boy)
The fifth little indian took her down the waterfall
(fighting over a squaw)
The sixth little indian taught the squaw how to woo-woo
(little indian boy)
But the squaw didnt like em at all
One little, two little, three little indians
(keep us humming were the ten little indians)
Four little, five little, six little indians
(keep us humming were the ten little indians)
Seven little, eight little, nine little indians
(keep us humming were the ten little indians)
Ten little indian boys
The seventh little indian took her over to his teepee
(little indian boy)
The eighth little indian tried to give her a love poem
(fighting over a squaw)
The ninth little indian said youre my kemosabe
(little indian boy)
The squaw didnt like em at all
The tenth little indian said it really didnt matter
(little indian boy)
He acted like himself and he didnt look at her
(fighting over a squaw)
The squaw didnt care if he never did a thing
(little indian boy)
Cause she loved the tenth indian boy
Loved the tenth indian boy
Loved the tenth indian boy
Loved the tenth indian boy
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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