A Quote by Paddy Chayefsky

The first dead man on Omaha Beach must be a sailor! — © Paddy Chayefsky
The first dead man on Omaha Beach must be a sailor!
A little while ago I visited Omaha Beach for the second time in my life. In the intervening 26 years, nearly 20,000 tides had come and gone and little remains visible of the greatest military landing in man's history of endless warring. What's to be seen is mostly in a superb museum and a panoramic cemetery. The cemetery memorializes with dignity and grandeur the event and the dead, and moves one deeply. Before they die less precipitously and/or in lesser purpose, Americans who can should visit World War II's Normandy Beach. Such seeing and remembering helps a man's perspective.
I have returned many times to honour the valiant men who died...every man who set foot on Omaha Beach was a hero.
The Dead and Those About to Die is a gripping, first-hand account of the desperate battle for Omaha Beach on D-Day by the legendary 1st Infantry Division, the Big Red One. On the 70th anniversary of that momentous event, John C. McManus’s tale of courage under fire is a vivid reminder that freedom isn’t free and that when the chips are down stalwart American soldiers will always answer the call of duty.
I actually do quite well in Omaha. It's one of my better games. I love pot-limit Omaha and Omaha high-low. I do quite well in them. If I play in a casino, I usually play some kind of mixed game with Omaha and hold 'em.
Writing the first draft is like hitting the beach on D Day. You don't stop to mourn the dead or comfort the wounded. You get off the beach because, if you don't, you'll die there.
The biggest differences between Omaha and Hold'em is that you get four hole cards in Omaha as opposed to two in Hold'em, and in Omaha, you can only use two of your hole cards and must play three cards from the board.
Out of sight of land the sailor feels safe. It is the beach that worries him.
Put any two people together and each will seek ways of feeling superior to the other. If a ship went down in the Pacific and a single sailor managed to swim to a desert island, would he be pleased to see, ten minutes later, another sailor emerging from the surf? Quite possibly - but only if the new arrival accepted that the first man was now a landed aristocrat while he himself was an illegal immigrant.
Man alone knows that he must die; but that very knowledge raises him, in a sense, above mortality, by making him a sharer in the vision of eternal truth. He becomes the spectator of his own tragedy; he sympathizes so much with the fury of the storm that he has no ears left for the shipwrecked sailor, though the sailor were his own soul. The truth is cruel, but it can be loved, and it makes free those who have loved it.
Stupid women, and all are stupid, think the first winning of the man the final victory. Then they settle down and grow fat, and stale, and dead, and heartbroken. Alas, they are so stupid. But you, little infant-woman with your first victory, you must make your love-life an unending chain of victories. Each day you must win your man again. And when you have won the last victory, when you can find no more to win, then ends love. Finis is written, and your man wanders in strange gardens.
When I was drawing this, I thought I’d put together Sailor Saturn and Sailor Chibi-Moon in a pair. Then I followed it with the Sailor Quartet. One of these days I’m going to put this team together into the manga. What a weird thing that would be. Anyway, here’s the six.
I'm so Omaha that I wear 'OMAHA' on my trunks.
It's rare to find these true coin flip situations in Hold'em but surprisingly common in Omaha. That's one of the reasons why Omaha is the perfect game for action junkies who relish the notion of flipping coins for large sums of money.
In the past the man has been first; in the future the system must be first. This in no sense, however, implies that great men are not needed. On the contrary, the first object of any good system must be that of developing first-class men; and under systematic management the best man rises to the top more certainly and more rapidly than ever before.
The sailor is frankness, the landsman is finesse. Life is not a game with the sailor, demanding the long head
I swear like a sailor, assuming the sailor in question died in 1800 and was really square.
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