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Page: of 117

duh 
"catpurrs"

Posted - 05/21/2007 :  15:03:16  Show Profile  Reply with Quote
The point is not the achievement of the win; the point is the journey taken towards the win.
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Koli 
"Striving lackadaisically for perfection."

Posted - 05/21/2007 :  15:07:28  Show Profile  Reply with Quote
The prize has arrived. Looks like I won after all. Thanks everybody; you can now relax.
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duh 
"catpurrs"

Posted - 05/21/2007 :  15:38:25  Show Profile  Reply with Quote
I've observed that 'we' usually try to teach our children how to be gracious losers, but that we rarely teach them how to be gracious winners.

With the exception of sports played with balls, where behaving badly is apparently expected, I have the following suggestions for how to behave graciously when a winner:

Look pleased. If you look bored or indifferent, that insults the other competitors.

Don't be excessively celebratory. That is also insulting to the other competitors. Be pleased, but save the whooping and hollaring and high-fiving for when you're alone with your family and friends.

When someone says, "Congratulations" say "Thank you" in return. If someone says something in more detail, such as "Your horse really moves nicely," say something that honors that person for noticing, such as "I'm flattered that you like her."

If someone happens to say something snotty about your win, don't respond at all. Don't say anything you may regret later.

I also have some 'rules' for being a gracious loser. Here is my favorite: "You're not allowed to give other people the satisfaction of seeing you behave badly. You are, however, allowed to bitch in the truck on the way home."
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Montgomery 
"F**k!"

Posted - 05/21/2007 :  17:15:49  Show Profile  Reply with Quote
quote:
Originally posted by duh

I've observed that 'we' usually try to teach our children how to be gracious losers, but that we rarely teach them how to be gracious winners.

With the exception of sports played with balls, where behaving badly is apparently expected, I have the following suggestions for how to behave graciously when a winner:

Look pleased. If you look bored or indifferent, that insults the other competitors.

Don't be excessively celebratory. That is also insulting to the other competitors. Be pleased, but save the whooping and hollaring and high-fiving for when you're alone with your family and friends.

When someone says, "Congratulations" say "Thank you" in return. If someone says something in more detail, such as "Your horse really moves nicely," say something that honors that person for noticing, such as "I'm flattered that you like her."

If someone happens to say something snotty about your win, don't respond at all. Don't say anything you may regret later.

I also have some 'rules' for being a gracious loser. Here is my favorite: "You're not allowed to give other people the satisfaction of seeing you behave badly. You are, however, allowed to bitch in the truck on the way home."





I'll do all that, duh, as I am now the winner.

EM :)
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Chris C 
"Four words, never backwards."

Posted - 05/21/2007 :  17:56:12  Show Profile  Reply with Quote
No you're not.
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knockmesilly 

Posted - 05/21/2007 :  19:05:13  Show Profile  Reply with Quote
i am.


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TitanPa 
"Here four more"

Posted - 05/21/2007 :  19:34:57  Show Profile  Reply with Quote
WHat you talkin bout?
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Tori 
"I don't get it...."

Posted - 05/21/2007 :  20:24:34  Show Profile  Reply with Quote
Whaaaaaaah!
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Stalean 
"Back...OMG"

Posted - 05/22/2007 :  00:53:24  Show Profile  Reply with Quote
Actually, benj could be the winner by merely locking this topic! I say benj locks this topic as soon as I finish posting this message.
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Tori 
"I don't get it...."

Posted - 05/22/2007 :  01:14:38  Show Profile  Reply with Quote
Too late, sucka!
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Stalean 
"Back...OMG"

Posted - 05/22/2007 :  01:22:58  Show Profile  Reply with Quote
Snooze--you lose!
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BaftaBaby 
"Always entranced by cinema."

Posted - 05/22/2007 :  01:43:37  Show Profile  Reply with Quote
I'm guessing benj wouldn't waste his time on something like this ... unlike SOME I could name!

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lemmycaution 
"Long mired in film"

Posted - 05/22/2007 :  03:11:31  Show Profile  Reply with Quote
SMITH FORCING NATION TO CRISIS!

STOP SMITH!

PROTEST!

Then a CARTOON is seen depicting Jeff with a little whiskbroom
sweeping back an ocean labelled "PUBLIC CONDEMNATION."

Then another cartoon showing a line of haggard people at a
window marked "RELIEF FUNDS." A man at the window holds up
his hand, palm out, and says: "Sorry, Jefferson Smith is
still talking."

Back to kids who are stacking and tying bundles of circulars.

Contrasted, we see the professional stacking and tying of an
army of workers in the Jackson City Press rooms. (Perhaps
showing a change of shifts--fresh men coming in, as the gong
sounds and shows that it is five o'clock in the morning.)

Back in the Smith home, with the kids still active and the
press still going. Ma is giving the kids coffee. One kid is
bobbing at a desk. A big boy is putting a little fellow,
sound asleep, down on a bed.

The scene dissolves to bobbing Senators at their desks in
the United States Senate. JEFF is seen still talking. His
hair is disheveled, he is weary in the joint, with black
circles under his eyes, collar open. Jeff is saying:

JEFFERSON
--there just can't be any compromise
with inalienable rights like life
and liberty. That's about the only
thing I know for sure--and that's
about all I got up on this floor to
say--when was it? A year ago, it
seems like--

Further impressionistic views of the Chamber: the clock,
more sleeping attitudes of the Senators, a weary Vice-
President Pro Tem, the sprinkling of people in the gallery,
made up of the night or early morning birds such as a fellow
in top hat and muffler, a milkman, a street car conductor.

Back to all sorts of little vehicles--play wagons, bicycles,
scooters, etc.--collected in Jeff's back yard as piles of
circulars are carried out and loaded on these contraptions.
Some of the kids are starting away with their bundles. The
bugle note sounds over the scene.

Contrasted, at the Jacskon City Press, the morning extra is
being loaded on big, handsome trucks which roar away.

Then the distribution of the reading matter by both Taylor's
press and the kids'. We see Taylor's trucks dumping bundles
at street corners to newsboys.

Jeff's kids race down residence blocks throwing circulars on
lawns, passing them out on business streets, shoving them
into people's hands--at crowded street corners, at factory
entrances.

Taylor's newspaper boys are interspersed, hawking their
papers. (End of the montage.)

In the JACKSON CITY PRESS OFFICE, McGann is on the phone,
with men rushing into him with copy.

MCGANN
(shouting)
That's right, get out every piece of
loud speaker equipment on wheels--!

He is interrupted by a man who rushes in with some leaflets
in his hand.

MAN
Chick, Chick, look--"Boy Stuff"
circulars--peddled by nine million
kids--

MCGANN
(grabbing the leaflets,
yelling)
Well, what are you standin' for? Get
the boys out! Kill it!

The scene dissolves to RESIDENCE BLOCKS, three episodes,
showing a couple of kids rushing along with a wagon full of
circulars and other kids taking from it to distribute them.
A big open truck swerves up to the curb. A couple of men
rush out, push the kids away from the little wagon, grab the
circulars, and toss them into the truck. The kids raise a
hue and cry and pile on. A quick free-for-all in which the
kids are sent sprawling--a smack to the jaw, a kick.

This dissolves to A SLUM LOCATION: A large truck is loaded
with signs, is surrounded by shabbily-dressed men. McGann is
on hand, with a fist full of money. Signs are being passed
down to the waiting men and, as each takes one, McGann slips
a bill into his hand and he hurries off with a sign. The
signs carry these appeals: "STOP SMITH!" "WIRE CONGRESS!"
"STOP SMITH--WE WANT TO EAT." "CRIMINAL SMITH TALKS AND
AMERICANS STARVE!" "HERO JOSEPH PAINE." "JOE PAINE SAVED
YOUR STATE."

Then we see an overlapping series of posters going up--a
banner being hoisted over a street. Men pasting up huge twenty-
four sheets and three sheets--and little cards tacked to
telegraph poles and sides of buildings. They read: "STOP
SMITH! WIRE CONGRESS." A piece of bunting, folded up, suddenly
is pulled open to reveal STOP SMITH! Now we are in a STREET
at the front end of a small but boisterous parade, composed
principally of adults with a sprinkling of kids. Both adults
and a few children, flanking the marchers, play instruments.
There are banners at the end of the parade which read: "DOWN
WITH GRAFT--AND TAYLOR!"

"SMASH THE TAYLOR MACHINE!"--"SMITH IS FIGHTING YOUR BATTLE!"
"JEFF SMITH WAS FRAMED!" "HAVE JEFF SMITH AND A CLEAN STATE!"

Suddenly, those in the forefront look off in horror as almost
simultaneously they are hit by a might stream of water. We
see a fire truck and hoses pouring water, held by a couple
of firemen, with the aid of a plug-ugly. There are glimpses
of people as they are swept off their feet and whirled
violently on the ground. Simultaneously a calliope is heard.
Down the street comes the truck pulling a tremendous poster
on which is printed; "STOP JEFF (JUDAS) SMITH!" This truck,
with calliope playing, moves through what remains of the
parade. A loud speaker attached, bawls out:

LOUD SPEAKER VOICE
Stop Smith! Remove this scoundrel
from the Senate! Wire Congress!

This dissolves to a CORNER. A soap box is surrounded by a
small group which is in the act of forming.

SOAP BOXER
(yelling)
Smith was framed! Don't believe the
papers! James Taylor owns them.
(Waves a circular)
If you want the truth, read--

The small group is rushed by some professional hoodlums.
They charge through the group and the soap boxer is dragged
from his perch. At this instant a screaming siren is
overheard. People pause to look up. Then a MOVING AIRPLANE
is seen, with siren screaming, pulling a streamer on which
are the the letters: "STOP SMITH! WIRE CONGRESS!"

LOUD SPEAKER VOICE
Stop Smith! It's the duty of every
citizen--

Various groups of people in the streets are looking up--people
raising their windows to look out, people rushing out of
doors from factories and public building as the loud speaker
continues:

LOUD SPEAKER VOICE
--to wire Congress! Put Smith out of
the Senate! Pass the Deficiency Bill.
Wire Congress--in the name of the
needy and hungry Americans!

But in a STREET, there appears the car of the Governor's
children, and it is pulling a trailer on which small hand-
painted posters lean against each other. These posters bear
the words: "STAND BEHIND JEFF" and "READ WHAT TAYLOR'S PAPERS
WON'T PRINT." The Governor's kids are recognized in this car
and also the little boy with the bugle who is playing one
continuous blast. The kids are throwing circulars to the
left and right as they move down the street. Suddenly a big
touring car with some plug uglies in it bears down with a
roar on this little trailer. They run into it--gasoline is
either poured on it or the gasoline tank is drilled with a
bullet and a match is set to the whole works. The trailer
and the car go up in a blaze as the kids scramble out to
save their lives.

The scene dissolves to the HOPPER EXECUTIVE OFFICE, in which
Hubert is on the phone, raging:

HUBERT
Are you Commissioner of Safety or--?
*Hoodlums*! Taylor's hoodlums are
running riot in the streets! Even
children are not safe--hospitals are
filled! I won't stand for this
violence--

And in the SMITH HOME, the place is still whirling. The kids
are working away. One of them is speaking into an amateur
radio excitedly--with a circular in his hands.

KID
(on radio)
Fellas--tell your folks--the Taylor
machine is framing Jeff Smith! Here's
Jeff's story--put it down--!

He breaks off as shouts are heard outside. About three
gorillas are pushing their way into the office. A group of
kids has evidently been fighting them from the time they
entered the house. The kids are yelling: "What do you want
in here?" "Who are you?" "Get out of here!" The men throw
off the kids and advance to both the press and the amateur
radio. One of them takes a small object that looks like a
hand grenade out of his pocket and hurls it at the press.
There is an explosion. The men duck and run. A couple of
kids clutch their faces and scream. The press stops.
Simultaneously one of the other gorillas has thrown himself
at the amateur radio. He starts pulling it apart.

Next MA is on the phone.

MA
(frantically)
Saunders! Is that you, Saunders?

And we see SAUNDERS on the phone.

SAUNDERS
Yes, Ma!
(She listens)
What!

In the SMITH HOME:

MA
(wildly)
Yes! Bombs--acid! Children hurt! All
over the city! Tell Jeff to stop!
It's no use. They--they'll just kill
*him* if he goes on--and everybody
else! It isn't worth it, Saunders--

SAUNDERS is seen paralyzed, holding the receiver as Ma's
voice screeches through.

MA'S VOICE
*Tell him to stop*!

H. V. KALTENBORN is seen again, broadcasting.

KALTENBORN
Senator Smith has now talked for
twenty-three hours and sixteen
minutes. It is the most unusual and
spectacular thing in the Senate
annals. One lone and simple American
holding the greatest floor in the
land. What he lacked in experience
he's made up in fight. But those
tired Boy Ranger legs are buckling;
bleary eyes, voice gone, he can't go
on much longer and all official
Washington is here to be in on the
kill.

In the SENATE PRESS GALLERY, Saunders and Diz are seen.

JEFFERSON'S VOICE
No, sir, there's no compromise with
truth. That's all I got up on this
floor to say--when was it--a year
ago, it seems like.

SAUNDERS
Diz, I'm afraid. Terrible things are
happening. I've got to stop him.

DIZ
They're listening to him. Anything
might happen now.

JEFFERSON
Just get up off the ground, that's
all I ask. Get up there with that
lady that is up on top of this Capitol
dome--that lady that stands for
liberty, take a look at this country
through her eyes if you really want
to see something and you won't just
see scenery--you'll see the whole
parade of what man's carved out for
himself after centuries of fighting
and fighting for something better
than just jungle law, fighting so's
he can stand on his own two feet--
free and decent, like he was created--
no matter what his race, color or
creed. That's what you'll see. There's
no place out there for graft or greed
or lies or compromise with human
liberties. And if that's what the
grown-ups have done to this world
that was given to them we'd better
get those boy's camps started fast
and see what the kids can do and it
is not too late because this country
is bigger than the Taylors, or you
or me, or anything else. Great
principles don't get lost once they
come to light. They're right here.
You just have to see them.

PAINE
(rising at his desk)
Mr. President, will the Senator yield
for a question?

PRESIDENT
Will Senator Smith yield to his
colleague?

JEFFERSON
Yes, sir, I yield for a question.

PAINE
The gentleman has said repeatedly
that he is speaking to the people of
his State. He has been waiting, as
he so fancifully puts it, for them
to come marching here in droves.
Would the gentleman be interested in
knowing what those people have to
say?

In the PRESS GALLERY:

SAUNDERS
Here it comes, Diz.

On the FLOOR again:

JEFFERSON
Yes, sir, you bet I would.

PAINE
Mr. President, have I permission to
bring into this Chamber evidence of
the response from my State?

PRESIDENT
Is there objection?
(There is none)
You may proceed, Senator.

PAINE
Page boys!

Now a number of page boys enter, carrying down and placing
before the President's ROSTRUM many WIRE BASKETS, filled
with telegrams. The view picks out SAUNDERS.

SAUNDERS
I can't stand it, Diz. I can't stand
to see him hurt like this.

A MAN
Public opinion made to order.

DIZ
Yeah, Taylor made.

SENATOR PAINE walks down and points to the baskets.

There it is, there's the gentleman's answer. Telegrams, five
thousand of them, demanding that he yield the floor. I invite
the Senate to read them. I invite my colleague to read them.
The people's answer to Mr. Jefferson Smith.

SAUNDERS
(seen getting up and
screaming)
Stop, Jeff, stop!
(Her voice is lost in
the tumult)

JEFFERSON has gone wearily to the baskets. He seizes handfulls
of telegrams at random and glances at them. He sags in
despair, almost falling.

JEFFERSON
(with effort)
I guess this is just another lost
cause, Mr. Paine. All you people
don't know about lost causes. Mr.
Paine does. He said once they were
the only causes worth fighting for,
and he fought for them once, for the
only reason that any man ever fights
for them. Because of just one plain,
simple rule, "Love thy neighbor,"
and in this world today, full of
hatred, a man who knows that one
rule has a great trust. You knew
that rule, Mr. Paine, and I loved
you for it, just as my father did.
And you know that you fight for the
lost causes harder than for any
others. Yes, you'd even die for them,
like a man we both know, Mr. Paine.
You think I'm licked. You all think
I'm licked. Well, I'm not licked and
I'm going to stay right here and
fight for this lost cause even if
this room gets filled with lies like
these, and the Taylors and all their
armies come marching into this place.
Somebody'll listen to me--some--

The chamber whirls in front of Jeff's eyes--and he pitches
forward to the floor. People get to their feet automatically
all over the house--and there is dead silence except for
SAUNDERS, who utters one shriek as she gets to her feet--
then stands unable to move.

Then PAINE rises stiffly--his face a complete blank--and
starts toward the cloak room, several feet away.

The tense, silent shock of the Senate floor is broken and
men start for Jeff's inert form. A tumult goes up, and
JEFFERSON is seen inert--completely gone--as men surround
him. And then--suddenly--off-scene--a pistol shot is heard.
Heads turn violently in the direction of the cloak room.
Women scream.

In the CLOAK ROOM, near the door to the Chamber, Paine is
now struggling with three or four men, who wrest a revolver
out of Paine's hand. In violent desperation, Paine tears
himself loose and rushes for the chamber.

In THE CHAMBER Paine comes toward the center aisle. (Jefferson
still lying face down on the floor.)

PAINE
(crying out to the
Chair)
Expel *me*! Not him. *Me*!

He continues toward the chair as he talks--a man distracted--
the whole house on its feet.

PAINE
Willet Dam is a fraud! It's a crime
against the people who sent me here--
and *I* committed it!

PAINE walks mechanically toward the chair.

PAINE
(shouting)
Every word that boy said is the truth!
I'm not fit for office! I'm not fit
for any place of honor or trust in
this land! Expel me--!

SAUNDERS
(wildly, clutching
Diz)
He did it.

DIZ
Wait a minute. I've got to write
this story.

PRESIDENT
(pounding vainly with
his gavel)
Order, gentlemen, please.

DIZ
(to Saunders)
Will you please let go of me.

SAUNDERS
(screaming)
He did it! Yippee!

The scene dissolves to the HOPPER KIDS, a newspaper between
them--and just yelling at the tops of their lungs:

BOYS
Yeow!

And this is followed by a BONFIRE SCENE, with Boy Rangers
leaping and yelling; and then we see the WINDOW of the offices
of the JACKSON CITY PRESS at night, where a rock goes crashing
through the window, smashing it to smithereens.

This dissolves to HOPPER'S EXECUTIVE OFFICE, in which HOPPER
is surrounded by Edwards and the other members of the
Citizen's Committee. Happy is a lion at bay.

HUBERT
(yelling into their
teeth--in violent
indignation)
Resign! Resign! Who found this
magnificent young American? Who went
down alone--in the dead of night--
and sought out this Lincoln--this--
Resign! Why, I've just begun! I'll
find *more* Jefferson Smiths! I'll
clean out of our glorious state every
*vestige* of James Taylor--I'll--

Now we are in a STREET, in daylight, with the BOY RANGER
BAND marching--playing a martial air--confetti falling on
them. JEFFERSON AND SAUNDERS are in the back of an open car--
band--cheers--confetti! They are both rather dazed. A huge
placard, carried by a Boy Ranger, reads:

JEFFERSON TO THE SENATE

FOR LIFE!

There is a BAND, and there is much cheering. Then the GOVERNOR
AND MRS. HOPPER are seen in the back of an open car. (Band
and cheers and confetti.) Happy is bowing to left and right--
all smiles. He pauses to say:

HUBERT
Emma--it's the White House--no less!

JEFFERSON AND SAUNDERS are in the open car; Jeff looks off,
and is suddenly at attention.

In a GROUP ON THE SIDEWALK, Joseph Paine is watching the
parade. Suddenly Jeff leaps out of the car and heads for the
curb. Saunders tries to stop him. JEFF is pushing through
the crowd--and grabbing for PAINE, who has fearfully started
to move off.

JEFFERSON
Please, sir!--come with me!

PAINE
No, Jeff--please--!

JEFFERSON
I say it's *your* parade, sir! You've
*got* to come!

He pulls Paine with him--back toward the automobile. The
people mill around them.

The scene dissolves to the SMITH LIVING ROOM, as Jeff and
Saunders and Paine enter to Ma, who is waiting. (Outside we
still hear the band and cheers.)

MA
(kissing Jeff's cheek)
Hello, Jefferson.

JEFFERSON
Hello, Ma.
(Indicating Saunders)
Clarissa, Ma. She'll be stayin' a
while--

MA
(takes Saunders' hands)
Fine--

JEFFERSON
And Senator Paine too, Ma--we'd like
to have him--

MA
(warmly)
Certainly would, Joseph.

JEFFERSON
How's Amos, Ma?

MA
Just fine.

JEFFERSON
(taking Saunders'
hand)
We'd better see.

SAUNDERS
Jeff--wait--they want you to speak!

JEFFERSON
Not *me*! Joseph Paine is the man
they ought to be listening to! Come
on!

He drags her off toward pet shop--Paine calling after him,
protesting.

And in the PET SHOP: Saunders and Jeff are seen entering. On
seeing Jeff, the animals go berserk. And in a comparative
lull Jeff says to them:

JEFFERSON
Meet Clarissa, fellas.

And the scene fades out.

THE END
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Tori 
"I don't get it...."

Posted - 05/22/2007 :  04:37:06  Show Profile  Reply with Quote
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knockmesilly 

Posted - 05/22/2007 :  04:56:37  Show Profile  Reply with Quote

...loser, doh! and while ur reading this, it's dawning on u that i won,
which means u lost. and as u continue to read, wondering what else u
might read about ur being a loser and my being a winner, the little
hand ticks away and i continue to win while u continue to lose. so why
are u reading this? bc u can't help it. it's hypnotic, being told ur a
loser. so u keep reading and i oblige ur masochistic needs by
continuing to let u know that with each word, with each l-e-t-t-e-r ur
eye scans over, u are indeed a loser. in fact, each letter ur loser
eye scans across is a little nail in ur loser coffin. and, yet, u just
can't help it, you keep reading, wondering what the hey is this guy
gonna write next, i mean he's called me a loser already, which is
true, and will remain so as long as i continue to read, this must be
some kind of trick, where i get caught in some kind of fantastical
loop, a never-ending loser loop. but how? how does this mad genius
trap me in a textual moebius strip, and then it happens. as you read
the last two words, ur reminded of something so familiar yet so
quickly forgotten, but ur subconscious remembers and ur eye travels
back to the beginning where u start again, the circuit complete, all
bc u want to know the answer, it's just ahead, and it goes something
like, ur a...



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