Memorial Golf Tournament - Children'S Mercy Hospital: Fill & Download for Free

I am amazed at the confusion on Quora about what atheism is about. Let me try to clarify. I am an atheist. I do not believe in any gods. That’s it. I might love or hate sports, be a meat eater or vegan, be tall or short, black or white, love guns, hate guns, be liberal or conservative, etc… The ONLY thing that makes me an atheist is my lack of belief in any gods. Atheists have said this on Quora thousands of times and still the confusion! Just pretend that I am a non golfer. What do you know about me? You know that I don’t golf. Nothing more. Can I have friends who golf? Of course! Do I hate golfers? No! I just don’t participate in golfing. I may even occasionally watch a golf tournament. As an atheist I can go to church, for example to a memorial service, and have no qualms about it. I have religious friends. If I sneeze and someone says “Bless You,” I understand their sincerity and I may say nothing or even “Thank you.” I don’t kill, rape, or steal and I am a good father to my children. There are thousands of gods. Atheists don’t believe in any of them. Christians don’t believe in any of them except for one. We are not that different! So what is an atheist? An atheist is a person that does not believe in any gods!

FYI. I answer questions and provide advice for all aspects of human existence. All 3 of my children are exceptionally successful due to my parenting. I earn a higher income than 98% of the population as a leader of men in manufacturing. I have an IQ of 150 with an eidetic memory(only with numbers). I am a musician and classical music buff as well as an athlete. I have won golf tournaments, photography contests, tennis tournaments and bench press contests. I feel a desire to help people as much as I possibly can. So please, if you're struggling, I WILL help you out of it. Ask away…..

I’m going to get a bit long winded here.Albert Einstein I crossed his path when I was about 4 or 5. 1950 or 51. My dad is gone, so I can't ask him when it was. Dad was Army Air Corps which had morphed into the Air Force in 48. We were at McGuire AFB, in New Jersey for "some big to do." It was a reception for Einstein and a lot of the folks that had been involved in the "Little Boy/Fat Man Project" (Atomic Bombs).Children were not allowed in the Officers Club, so the folks had to leave me in the enclosed patio/garden. I didn't care, it was a nice day and there was all kinds of "stuff" for me to do. I was fascinated by the brick circles that were in the patio and wondered how many of the white rocks that were around the trees the circles would hold. So...I was transporting the rocks to the circle I had picked out. Out walks this white haired old man with his escort (a major). He asks me what I am doing. I tell him.He nods and starts digging in his coat pockets and pulls out a piece of chalk wrapped in a handkerchief. I ask him why he has chalk in his pocket. He responds that if he wanted a piece of chalk and didn't have one, what would he do. I think about that and agree. He draws straight lines through the circle cutting it in half and then in fourths. He then proceeds to help me transport the rocks to fill up a fourth and asks me if I can count to 100. Well, I am indignant, "Of course, I can." "Oh, good. Then count the stones and tell me how many." So I do, 16.Then he explains that the other three sections should contain 16 each, but we don't need to transport more stones. He tells me to count from 16 to an additional 16. I'm a little confused, but he tells me to hold out my ten fingers and he'll hold out the other 6 and I can count on them. So I do...he very gently taught a tiny child the concepts of addition, multiplication and division. I have a semi-eidetic memory and can see that just as clear today as it was when it happened. He did not have to "entertain" a child, nor give her a love of math, he just did. Kindness.John Wayne I ran into the Duke when I was maybe 9 or 10. We were back in Japan and sight-seeing in the Ginza (Tokyo’s shopping area) and riding the only elevator (I think) in all of Tokyo when I turn around and bump into a belt buckle. I look waaaaaay up and (gasp), “YOU’RE JOHN WAYNE!” He laughs and responds, “I sure am, little lady.” well, I proceed to talk his leg off for however many floors we traveled. I told him every movie I had seen him in and that I wanted to marry him when I grew up…the usual stuff. He laughed and shook my hand and rode off into the sunset.The end? Not hardly! Fast forward about 4 years. Dad’s stationed at March AFB in Riverside, Ca, so it was a given that we would visit Disneyland. I’m watching one of the open-air performance (Rin-Tin-Tin and Lt Rip Masters), it ends and I turn around and bump into a belt buckle. No, I had not grown a single inch. I look waaaay up and being the genius child that I am…”I’ll bet you don’t remember me!” “Well, I sure do, little lady. You’re the chatterbox in the elevator in Tokyo.” My eyes go wide, my mouth drops open and his “handlers” scurry him away before the crowd realizes who he is. My dreams revolved around that man for months.The end? Nope. Fast forward 7 years. I’m 21. I’ve grown about 10 inches up…and a fair amount of inches out. I’m tending bar at the Bayou Room on Bourbon Street in New Orleans. One of the regulars sticks his head in the door and yells, “John Wayne is down at the Old Absinthe House.” I whip off my apron, tell Pete to “take over” and hot foot it (as fast as 3 inch heels can hot foot) and skid into the edge of the crowd. Lots of autograph seekers and just thrilled to meet…I’m patient. About 45 minutes go by and I’m standing in front of my hero…remember that genius child?…”Mr. Wayne, I’ll bet you don’t remember me this time.” He looks at my face (no, not my boobs), looks me up and down, puzzled look.“No, little lady, I can’t say I do.”“Well, it was a long time ago in Tokyo…”“You’re the chatterbox in the elevator!” He reached out, pulled me into a bear hug, held me out in front of him. “You have grown up very nicely.”Sigh.Clint Eastwood 1973, I’ve joined the Air Force, gone through Basic and am now assigned to The Monterey Presidio, Defense Language Institute, West Coast…or DLIWC (dilly-wick as we liked to call it) studying Russian. I can’t remember which 3-day weekend it was but some golf tournament was being held at Pebble Beach, which is not that far, so a group of us gals decided we would go and walk along with the crowd. We were all wearing our DLIWC sweatshirts so we wouldn’t lose each other.This guy walks up to us and askes us if we are military and assigned to the Presidio…”Yes, sir.”“Clint Eastwood spotted your shirts and would like to invite you to a party at his house tonight.” We’re all like “uh huh and just what do we have to do when we get there?” While we all are giving this guy the stink eye and backing away, a reporter runs up with his microphone and photographer and starts asking us “are we going to attend the party? Clint’s really gung ho for the military.”Sooo, we decide to attend. The errand guy tells us that a limo will be outside our barracks at 8 pm (The Presidio was an “open” base at that time). And it was, we rode in style to Clint Eastwood’s mansion on 17 Mile Drive. He greeted us at the door, shook our hands, encouraged us to have drinks, eat the munchies, mingle and have a good time. Wow. The limo took us back to the barracks at about 1 am…we were pretty worn out and none of us were teenagers, we knew when to quit.So, there you have my wonderfully kind, friendly, special celebrities