Philippians 2:9 * - (Dada)

Jesus
Earl Bruce
George Ray Martin
Lenin Hugh Dick Lou
Lee Nancy Emily Bridget Clare
Jean Everett Tom Fidel Ibrahim Mohandas
John Paul Lewis Adolf Mohammad Juan Suleiman
Josef Che Benito Saladin Teresa Francis Vladimir Augustine
Gilbert Ringo Bono Britney Matthew Mark Luke John Maggie
Mollie Pius Michael Adam Osama Abraham Charlemagne Oprah
Isaac Darwin Jacob Joseph Gandhi Mary Kathy Rob Trisha Elthea
Jack Galileo Moses Leonardo Nimrod Buddha Confucius Elvis
Franklin Caitlin Brad Duane Stuart Hitler Jeremy Sheila James Paul
Kahlil Timothy Margaret Angelina Kara Stalin Malcolm Felix Ed Mel
Duke Benedict Pius Jane Augustine Monica Deborah Judas Simon
Jennifer Zoroaster Anna Nixon Augustus Sundiata Jefferson Musa
Cleopatra Charles J-Llo Shaka Kublai Beatles Aristotle Jude Bea
Genghis Omar Tojo Nelson Napoleon Jose Herod Jim Hillary Red
Joachim David Solomon Hajim Mao Neville Winston Herman Iris
Madonna Ludwig Hakim Lincoln Eileen Socrates Bernadette Marilyn
Amadeus Job Henry Louis Salome Nebuchadnezzar Teddy Albert
Halle Philip Stephen Jezebel Peter William Hannibal Rudolf Plato
Lawrence Geoffrey Nostradamus Herbert Charlotte Alexander Marie
Homer Catherine Bette Ogden Golda Yehuda Victor Norma Benjamin
Elizabeth Hammurabi Walter Donald Christopher Yoritomo Atilla
Reagan Constantine Nero Dominic Barbara Leo Maimonides John
Jeremiah Basho Sapho Billy Clem Ronald Victoria Washington Eliot
Shakespeare Nehru Barry Ali Indira Helmut Ichiro Robin Nicholas



* (“Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name which is above every other name ….”)

Gates (some information)

As I noted in a previous post, our local daily (Democrat and Chronicle) said it was looking for a community blogger for my suburb, Gates.

I applied immediately. Then when I didn't hear anything for a few days, I wrote to them again.

Still no word.

Maybe someone is on vacation?

Or perhaps there's been some breaking news taking up time (we have had a few interesting things happening in the last week - cars crashing into houses, shootings, an autistic lad getting national attention for scoring 20 points in the final few minutes of a basketball game, etc.).

Whatever the reason, I still wait to hear.

But that hasn't stopped me from starting to do some research.

Gates is a western suburb of Rochester. It has a population of just over 29,000.

The town is named after Revolutionalry War hero General Horatio Gates (Battle of Saratoga).

Here's a tidbit: Although Gates is a suburb of Rochester, it actually predates Rochester, and what is now the western half of Rochester used to be part of Gates.

Gates officially came into being April 1, 1813. A section split off in 1817 to become Rochesterville (and later Rochester).

In an ironic twist, Nathaniel Rochester - after whom Rochester was named - later served as Gates' town supervisor from 1830-32. (One oddity though: Two different sources say he died in 1831. Did we have a dead supervisor for one year? If so, when did they notice?)

Greece, our current suburban neighbor to the north, was also part of Gates originally. It separated from Gates in 1822.

Meanwhile, Monroe County - of which we are part - was not created until February 23, 1821.

Go Gates!

Gates is home to T.M Wright, a writer of dark fantasy (horror) who is well-known in those circles.

A more famous Gates lad: Lou Gramm, the lead singer for the once-popular rock band Foreigner - "Feels Like The First Time", "Cold As Ice", "Hot Blooded", "Urgent", "Double Vision", "Juke Box Hero" - grew up in Gates (where he was known as Lou Grammatico).

In fact, he was a friend of my wife's cousins, and when one of the cousins got married, Gramm and my wife were part of the wedding party. He even asked her out.

She turned him down.

Phew.

I'll bore you with more later - especially if I get the job.

The Da Vinci Oops

Here's just a few inaccuracies in The Da Vinci Code (culled from a number of sources and my feeble brain).

In the book, Brown claims that the Council of Nicea was held to declare Jesus' divinity.

Not so.

It was to clarify the nature of Jesus' divinity; the council participants all believed in that divinity before they met.

Christians acknowledged his divinity from the beginning - as the first century canonical Gospels and Paul's writings attest.

The Dead Sea Scolls were found in the 1947, not the 1950s as claimed in the book.

The book claims there were 80 gospels. We only have texts of about 15 - and we don't have complete texts of some of them.

The book claims that the Gospel of Philip referred to Mary Magdalene as Jesus' "companion" using the Aramaic word for spouse. The Gospel of Philip was written in Coptic, not Aramaic, and the word cited was actually Greek, not Aramaic.

The books claims Pope Clement V ordered leaders of the Knights Templar to be burned at the state and their ashes tossed in the Tiber. Pope Clement did suppress the Knights, but he was an Avingnon Pope - serving his entire papacy in France, not Italy.

The Opus Dei headquarters in the book is in New York. It's actually in Rome.

The Da Vinci Code - the novel

I finally finished reading The Da Vinci Code.

Heretical? No. That implies there was some belief.

Blasphemous? Not really. Others have written worse.

And better. D.H. Lawrence and The Man Who Died or Nikos Kazantzakis and his The Last Temptation of Christ come to mind. Even Dogma was better – and had the advantage of being intentionally funny at times.

Ignorant is a better description.

It’s really just a poorly written suspense novel that’s been hyped and sensationalized to make money.

And it wasn’t that suspenseful anyway.

I kept figuring out things long before the characters did. Heck, I figured out the “family secret” of the female character shortly after she was introduced – long before the big revelation near the end of the book.

And it’s full of factual and historical inaccuracies.

Not worth reading.

But the film might just be dangerous. If it is true to the book, some people might think the inaccuracies are true and be misled. Film is a far more powerful medium than written fiction with many people.

We have to make sure we spread the truth about Jesus and our faith.

God will deal with those who spread lies and lead others astray.

foggy morning - haiku

arriving at work
lunch still on kitchen counter –
foggy morning

loading the car - haiku

loading the car with
mom’s clothes to give to Goodwill –
chilly drizzle

The Litany of Hugh Hefner

(Except for the refrain, all of the following are actual recent news headlines)

Fort Bragg Soldiers Charged with Sex Crimes
Vero Beach man held in Internet sex case
Pella man gets probation for trying to entice teen online
Las Vegas basketball player back at school following arrest on sex charges
East Bay teacher faces sex charges
STD cases on the rise in teens
Norman Wilson Rape Trial Begins
What's behind today's epidemic of teacher-student sex?

Let us say: Thank you Hugh Hefner

Teacher hit with sex act charges
Officer accused of having sex with girl put on leave
Coach pleads guilty to rape of teen
Loosened Family Ties Haunt Baby Boomer Vanguard Reaching Age 60
Teen Accused of Sex Abuse
Sexual Diseases Hit Record High in Minnesota: Infection Rates in Suburbs, Among Young People Fuel Rise
Ohio syphilis cases up
Aiken man sought for sex crimes

Let us say: Thank you Hugh Hefner

Young adults stuck in 'Generation Me'
Chesterfield Teacher Accused Of Sex Crimes Will Go To Trial
Douglas man arrested for molestation of 5-year-old
Artificial sex partners to become available
Lubbock STD Rates Are Chronically High Especially In Teens
Two Duke lacrosse players arrested on rape charges
University Of Akron's RA Charged With Rape
Nurse Appears In Court On Molestation, Porn Charges

Let us say: Thank you Hugh Hefner

Man wanted in rape of 14-year-old arrested
Statistics Reveal Worrying Trend of Births Outside Marriage
Farrell, ex-girlfriend settle sex tape dispute
Watertown man accused of rape appeared in court
Killer of former wife indicted in sex case
Bernard T. Youngkin of Lindenwold faces charges of restraining and molesting an 18-year-old woman.
Deputies arrest Traskwood man for alleged rape
Record number of STD infections in Knox County

Let us say: Thank you Hugh Hefner

(I intend to perform this at a poetry reading, singing it as a litany. Dada.)

A professional blogger?

Blogging might begin to pay!

I noticed an announcement in our local daily (Democrat and Chronicle) seeking a community blogger for the Town of Gates. Gates is a suburb of Rochester, New York. I’ve lived in Gates since 1994.

There are other community bloggers for most of the communities in the Rochester area, but apparently no one for Gates.

I immediately emailed them with some of my credentials.

The job calls for at least one entry a week about the community. One a week? I think my two blogs have shown that I can do many times that.

This would be a good outlet for my writing, a way to get to know my community and neighbors better, and, as a benefit, there’s a monthly stipend.

I wait to hear from them.

Jesus is Lord - A Christian Dada sonnet

Jesus is Lord. Jesus is Lord. Jesus
is Lord. Jesus is Lord. Jesus is Lord.
Jesus is Lord. Jesus is Lord. Jesus
is Lord. Jesus is Lord. Jesus is Lord.
Jesus is Lord. Jesus is Lord. Jesus
is Lord. Jesus is Lord. Jesus is Lord.
Jesus is Lord. Jesus is Lord. Jesus
is Lord. Jesus is Lord. Jesus is Lord.
Jesus is Lord. Jesus is Lord. Jesus
is Lord. Jesus is Lord. Jesus is Lord.
Jesus is Lord. Jesus is Lord. Jesus
is Lord. Jesus is Lord. Jesus is Lord.
Jesus is Lord. Jesus is Lord. Jesus!
Jesus is Lord. Jesus is Lord. Jesus!

Life: An Update (No Dada!)

Even as I’m off in Dada land, there have been other things going on.

I’m off from school for the week for Easter break. But it hasn’t been a vacation.

There was the singing marathon at church – Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter Vigil and Easter Sunday. We did the "Halleluiah Chorus" twice (Vigil and Easter) and got it mostly right. People seemed to appreciate it, anyway. By Easter Sunday, though, my voice was tired. Good thing we have no practice this week.

Last Friday I also took part in the annual Stations of the Cross in Reparation for Abortion. We hold a prayer service at a local Catholic high school, then recite the stations, pray, and sing as we process to the office of a doctor who performs abortions.

One year he set up loudspeakers in his parking lot and blared a local oldies rock station while we were in front of his clinic. Given the ages of many in the group, we didn’t’ mind! And ironically, one of the songs was The End, by The Doors. How fitting.

No music this year (the town has a sound ordinance now). There was only one car in the parking lot, so maybe years of our marches have convinced him that Good Friday is not a good day to conduct his dirty business.

Although we sent out notices to the media –and more than 200 people took part – we got no coverage. Except from me, of course. On Saturday, when I did my regular weekend news shift at the local Public Radio station, I included the march in all of my newscasts.

Monday I was running around trying to finish up with Dad’s taxes. We had to file for extensions because mom’s estate is not yet settled.

Tuesday and Wednesday I worked at the radio station. Did a couple of news pieces, got some more training on the new equipment. I will be subbing and doing spot news over the summer when school gets out.

Today, I take dad to the bank for some business, then back to the house to meet with a couple interested in buying it.

Tomorrow, I have to pick up Nana and take her out shopping. I just found a nice Catholic book/gift shop, so one of our stops will be there. They have a great assortment of Chesterton for sale! I stopped there once to check it out and bought a collection of Christian poetry, an Ignatius edition of the RSV Catholic Bible, and Poetry as Prayer: Thomas Merton.

In between, I have been reading about Dada, the Book of Proverbs, and The DaVinci Code. I figured I’d better read that given all the hoopla about the film. When I’m done, I’ll write a review/reflection piece.

As for the tiredness of last week, I think the Christian Dada stuff is giving me a focus. I’m sure a therapist would say I’m just avoiding things. The underlying blues are still there, but I’ve been praying a lot, and that has helped.

I’m testy, though. Grrr.

And Saturday, back to the station for my regular shift. Then the regular weekend cycle of preparation for school begins.

Life goes on. Alleluia!

Our Dada and the Apostle's Dada

Christianity is the most ridiculous, the most absurd, and bloody religion that has ever infected the world. - Voltaire

My objection to Christianity is that it is infinitely cruel, infinitely selfish, and I might add infinitely absurd. - Robert Green Ingersoll

Given their views – which, of course, reflect the views of many - perhaps we need to change our prayers to point out all the things they would consider absurd. These concepts would be Dada.

Our Dada, Who art in Dada,
Dada be Thy Dada.
Thy Dada come.
Thy Dada be done, on earth as it is in Dada.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And dada us our dada,
as we dada those who dada against us.
And lead us not into dada,
but deliver us from dada. Dada.

I believe in Dada the Dada dada,
Dada of Dada and Earth.
I believe in Dada Dada’s only Dada, our Dada.
Dada was conceived by the power of the Dada
and born of the Dada Mary.
Dada suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, died and was buried.
Dada dadad to the dead.
On the third day Dada Dadad again.
Dada Dadad into Dada and is seated
at the right hand of the Dada.
Dada will dada again to dada the living and the dead.
I believe in the Dada, the Dada,
the Dada of Dada, the dada of dada,
the dada of the body and life dada. Dada.

Christian Dada - first action

Dada means challenging the values of society.

Our society celebrates action, the physical, and the self.

What is more challenging than something mental, something spiritual, something directed toward others?

One way to do this is prayer.

Praying for others is a perfect form of Christian Dadaism. So I sent the following to five of my friends:

We are all in need of the power of prayer. Today, I pray this prayer for you and for four other people I care about.

An Irish Prayer

May God give you...
For every storm, a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care, a promise,
And a blessing in each trial.
For every problem life sends,
A faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.

And in the spirit of prayer, I ask you to choose five other people to pray for. It can be whatever prayer you wish. Simply keep each person in your prayers, and ask them to pray for five more people.

We could have millions of people praying for each other in a short time!

Try it. Meanwhile, the second “action” will involve more prayer ...

from "The Wisdom of Baba Dada"

In a land without cucumbers, the pickle is an absurdity.

A Christian Dada Manifesto (first thoughts)

Dada grew out of frustration and disillusionment with the world of the World War I era.

The Dadaists saw a war of heretofore unimagined scale. They viewed society as rigid and hypocritical and lifeless. They viewed religion as it was conventionally practiced as something bereft of deeper meaning. They viewed western civilization as something controlled by stale, stifling, impotent ideas.

They called for destruction of those ideas. They called for chaos. They called for rejection of all beliefs. They elevated individualism. They used the absurd, the outrageous, the offensive to challenge the world.

The movement died in recrimination. It died when it dove deep into the chaos and drowned in its own excesses. It died in the Dadaists' own self-worship and shallow thinking. It died in their focus on show rather than substance. It died because it was really just a spasm of the world they were rejecting. It died when it was absorbed by society and the world of art and literature.

We now live in a world where we are at war with our very souls. We live in a world that is rigid and hypocritical in its love of excess – of wealth and sensuality and the worship of the individual.
We live on the fruits of Dada and the civilization that spawned it.

But in Dada, as in all of creation, there is truth.

Dada just needed to be baptized.

The world then and the world now is without meaning if we merely look at it through superficial eyes.

But beneath the stale, the stifling, the impotent, beneath the chaos, lies the truth.

What is truth?

God.

Pilate had the answer standing before him, but he did not see.

And the Dadaists just didn’t dive deep enough in their quest to see him.

What is more absurd in the eyes of the world than belief in a God who so loved the world he sent his only son to die on a cross for us?

What is more absurd than living to serve God rather than gratifying our own cravings?

What is more absurd than self-sacrifice as opposed to serving oneself?

Dada is Calvary.
Dada is transubstantiation.
Dada is the virgin birth.
Dada is the resurrection.
Dada is the Immaculate Conception.
Dada is the Trinity.
Dada is Lourdes.
Dada is Fatima.
Dada is the rosary.
Dada is heaven.
Dada is the Blessed Virgin Mary.
Dada is John the Baptist crying the the wilderness.
Dada is Peter as the first pope.
Dada is Francis of Assisi building churches.
Dada is Pope John Paul II embracing his would-be assassin.
Dada is virginity.
Dada is chastity.
Dada is modesty.
Dada is humility.
Dada is simplicity.
Dada is fasting.
Dada is baptism.
Dada is the Eucharist.
Dada is confession and penance.
Dada is Mea Culpa.
Dada is stigmata.
Dada is the cross.

So what we need is a Christian Dada movement. A movement to challenge the soul of the world with our absurd faith.

Dada is Catholicism.
Catholicism is Dada.

Amen the Amen.

Todo y nada

Todo y nada. Je t’aime. Je t’adore.
Todo y nada. Je t’aime. Je t’adore.
Todo y nada. Je t’aime. Je t’adore.
Todo y nada. Je t’aime. Je t’adore.
Todo y nada. Je t’aime. Je t’adore.
Todo y nada. Je t’aime. Je t’adore.
Todo y nada. Je t’aime. Je t’adore.
Todo y nada. Je t’aime. Je t’adore.
Todo y nada. Je t’aime. Je t’adore.
Todo y nada. Je t’aime. Je t’adore.
Todo y nada. Je t’aime. Je t’adore.
Todo y nada. Je t’aime. Je t’adore.
Todo y nada. Je t’aime. Je t’adore.
Todo y nada. Je t’aime. Je t’adore.

Dada- fyi

Main Entry: Da·da
Pronunciation: 'dä-(")dä
Function: noun
Etymology: French

: a movement in art and literature based on deliberate irrationality and negation of traditional artistic values; also : the art and literature produced by this movement.

- Merriam-Webster Online

A European artistic and literary movement (1916-1923) that flouted conventional aesthetic and cultural values by producing works marked by nonsense, travesty, and incongruity.

- Dictionary.com

DADA is a virgin microbe
DADA is against the high cost of living
DADA limited company for the exploitation of ideas
DADA has 391 different attitudes and colours according to the sex of the president
It changes -- affirms -- says the opposite at the same time -- no importance -- shouts -- goes fishing.
Dada is the chameleon of rapid and self-interested change.
Dada is against the future. Dada is dead. Dada is absurd. Long live Dada.
Dada is not a literary school, howl.

--Tristan Tzara

Dada is.

Dada news

4/15/06

president retired
it many visitors
if
at

NRSV: Alpha and Omega

NRSV: Alpha and Omega

in Egypt these journey
the Sinai the Jericho
these Israel after Ephraim
after eyes in David there
days after Israel king
done after lived Adam earth
Solomon up in children
the good this descendants there
days happy Lord the gates
the evil the spices the
flesh the death how measure in there
in days the them the Zion
the God the Lord's
now animals the old
an cruelty the
instruments the Lord
in hosts in day an curse

an age the it since God in
written in hindrance
Paul Amen
Paul Jesus
Paul you
Paul Amen
Paul Christ
Paul spirit
Paul you Paul you Paul you
Paul you Paul you Paul you
Paul spirit
long you James
sins Peter Christ Simon Amen
we idols the greetings the name Jude
amen the amen

Introducing Baba Dada

from the Wisdom of Baba Dada:

There are those who say, "Be here now." I was there yesterday.

This is news?

I've suspected for a long time that most of the Playboy folks would end up there anyway. Hugh will problably end up there surrounded by beautiful women - and with no viagra available.

I'm tired

I’m tired.

Blood, flesh and bone tired.

Soul tired.

I’m so tired that as I drove on the expressway this afternoon to pick up my dad’s prescriptions and deliver them to the adult home where he lives I nearly fell asleep.

At 60 mph.

I had to keep shaking my head and opening my eyes wide.

That’s dangerous.

But even more dangerous is that when I’m this tired all my walls, defenses and masks break down.

Ask me something, and I’m liable to tell the truth for once.

Irk me, and I’m liable to react.

Last night, after I got home from choir practice, my wife told me my grandmother had called from the adult home where she lives to complain about me not doing something I didn’t even know I was supposed to do.

I swore.

Now those who know me know I almost never swear.

Even when I’m mad I don’t swear.

I only swear when I’m enraged, or when I’m overtired.

I learned as a child not to say what I really think or feel.

You might get a reaction you don’t like. Or get ignored. Or the words get twisted. Or they get thrown back in your face.

I’ve spent most of my life surrounded by people who react or overreact, who just have to voice their opinions over and over if I dare to open up.

So I keep quiet.

Except when I’m tired.

That doesn’t mean the feelings and thoughts are not in there. Sometimes they bleed out in “jokes” or sarcasm.

But mostly they just bubble around in my head.

Sometimes I feel like I have mental Tourette’s Syndrome.

#%)(+#!

Sometimes people tell me to get rest and that they worry about me.

But some of the same people keep asking and expecting me to do things and telling me what they want to do and giving me advice and sharing what they feel and think and complaining and voicing their resentments about how the world is treating them - all while expecting me to listen to what they say even though they have said the same things before. Repeatedly.

Then other people ask me to do things.

Then I tell myself I have to do some things for yet other people.

Can you say codependent?

There are days that I fantasize about dying, and my final words being, “At last I’ll get some peace.”

Or I fantasize about when my time comes just driving somewhere deep into he woods, taking a long walk, then sitting under a tree and waiting.

Alone.

The only sounds being the wind passing through the trees and the birds singing.

My dream of heaven has always been a cottage on a beach. I walk along the beach with my dog, or sit and watch the waves. Occasionally, Jesus stops by and we have a cup of coffee. Sometimes we talk. Sometimes we just sit and watch the waves or pet the dog.

And there’s no one else.

The only sound is that of the lapping waves.

I suspect Jesus felt some of the same soul tiredness that last week of his life. I’m carrying the burden of a few people. He had all the people – past, present and future. I’m making myself sick, maybe hastening my death. He was facing immediate death of the most horrible kind.

No wonder he sweated blood.

I haven’t done that.

I need to pray. With the same faith and intensity Jesus prayed with.

I need to rest.

I know. I’m babbling.

I do that when I’m tired.

And what I’ve said will probably come back to haunt me.

#%)(+#! it.

Bill the Butcher and aliens (legal or not)

If only I had the guns, Mr. Tweed, I'd shoot each and every one of them before they set foot on American soil.

And a few other Bill the Butcher quotes from the film, Gangs of New York.

At my challenge, by the ancient laws of combat, we are met at this chosen ground, to settle for good and all who holds sway over the five points: us natives, born rightwise to this fine land, or the foreign hordes defiling it.

My father gave his life, making this country what it is. Murdered by the British with all of his men on the twenty fifth of July, Anno Domini, 1814. Do you think I'm going to help you befoul his legacy, by giving this country over to them, what's had no hand in the fighting for it? Why, because they come off a boat crawling with lice and begging you for soup.

I don't see no Americans. I see trespassers, Irish harps. Do a job for a nickel what a nigger does for a dime and a white man used to get a quarter for. What have they done? Name one thing they've contributed.

This is a night for Americans!

Thank God. I die a true American.

A bit of Chesterton for Palm Sunday

The Donkey
G.K. Chesterton

When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born;

With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil's walking parody
On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.

Lost - The Prisoner

There are lots of fans of Lost. I have enjoyed the show when I’ve seen it, but, due to my schedule, I have missed most of this season.

It’s a show full of unanswered questions that keep the character – and the audience – guessing.

It has a large cult following.

It reminds me in many ways of another cult favorite I loved years ago.

The Prisoner.

The show was about British secret agent who abruptly and angrily resigns. He is followed back to his home, were he is gassed and taken to “The Village. “ There, everyone has a number, not a name. He is Number 6. (“I am not a number. I’m a free man!”)

The Village is a generic world that resembles a happy, perky resort (it was actually shot at one).

But it’s a resort where you are constantly under surveillance, making the standard good bye of the village – “Be seeing you.” – ironic. There is also a large, strange, balloon-like creature (robot?) that attacks if you try to leave.

Each week, a rotating series of actors playing Number 2 try to break him to find out why he resigned (and occasionally other information that only he has.) They use mind games, scientific devices, drugs, supposed friends and allies to get him to talk.

He refuses. Instead, he constantly tries to escape, to seek answers to questions about his captors, and to find out who Number 1 is.

What is the Village? Who kidnapped him – his own side, or the enemy? Who are the other people in the Village? How many of them are prisoners like himself? How many work for his captors?

Is this show an allegory for a man trapped by society? Himself? His own conscience?

The final episode leaves us with unanswered questions. When he removes the mask of the supposed Number 1, it is himself.

Indeed, each week the show begins with him asking, “Who is Number 1?” and being told in response “You are Number 6” Or is it phrased, “You are, Number 6.”? Has he been given the answer all along?

Has this all just happened in his own mind?

Does he really escape?

Why is the mysterious butler in the Village now his butler?

Or did they have to come up with an ambiguous ending in a hurry because Sir Lew Grade would not pay for more episodes?

Poem: Tiny Timmy

Tiny Timmy Timbuktu
was playing tunes on his kazoo
when he sucked instead of blew –
now tunes come out of his wazoo.

Abortionist botches something else

Dr. George “The Killer” Tiller

by Steven Ertelt
LifeNews.com Editor
April 6, 2006

Wichita, KS (LifeNews.com) -- A Kansas late-term abortion practitioner who killed a 19 year-old girl in a botched abortion last year has allegedly run over a pro-life person with his car who was praying outside his abortion business.

George Tiller, who may soon find himself subject to a grand jury investigation, apparently struck the protester with his vehicle yesterday.

According to eyewitnesses, Tiller was leaving his Women’s Health Care Services (WHCS) abortion facility Wednesday afternoon, when he sped out of the parking lot and struck pro-life advocate Mark Geitzen in the leg.

In a statement provided to LifeNews.com, Geitzen said he was hit in the leg by Tiller's speeding Jeep Grand Cherokee and placed his hands on Tiller's vehicle to push himself further away to avoid being run over.

“I was measuring the driveway to insure that pro-lifers were complying with the law during their prayer times when I heard an engine rev," Geitzen explained.

"I turned to see Tiller coming right at me,” Geitzen said. “In that moment I couldn't decide to jump to the right or to the left. I was kind of like a deer caught in the headlights.”

Eyewitnesses said Tiller immediately fled the scene. Geitzen has filed a complaint with the Wichita Police Department.

Geitzen said he was not injured in the incident but feels some pain in his right leg.

Another man who was with Geitzen at the time was not involved in the hit and run.

Geitzen indicated he was not blocking the exit and that Tiller had plenty of room to drive around him, as there is room for two vehicles to enter and leave the abortion facility parking lot exit at any time.

“There is no doubt that he intentionally hit me,” he said. “He drove right down the center of the driveway.”

Geitzen is the president of the Kansas Coalition for Life, a group that is part of a coalition of pro-life organizations working with the family of mentally disabled teenager Christin Gilbert to have a grand jury look into her abortion death.

Gilbert died after a third-trimester abortion in January 2005, done by Tiller at is abortion business. She was 28 weeks pregnant at the time.

Gilbert was rushed into the Wesley Medical Center ER, followed by Tiller moments later. In November, the Kansas Board of Healing Arts claimed neither he nor his staff were responsible for the botched abortion death and refused to press charges.

Gilbert's family, with the help of pro-life groups, are planning to file thousands of petitions on Friday asking the county court to call for a grand jury investigation into the abortion death.

Related web sites:
Justice for Christin - http://www.justiceforchristin.com/
Printed from: http://www.lifenews.com/state1561.html

Tagged: Holy Week Meme

Yoicks, I’ve been tagged by Laura H.

Lent is almost over and this Sunday is Palm Sunday already! I thought it would be fun to share what we do special to commemorate the Passion and Resurrection of Our Lord.

1. What do you do with your new blessed palm from Palm Sunday?

I put it up high enough so the cats don’t eat it. Then I let my wife make crosses if she wants to. To be honest, the whole palm thing is not a biggie with me.

2. What do you do with your old one from last year?

I don’t know. Wife thing.

3. What do you do during Holy Week in preparation for Good Friday?

Read all the Bible readings related to Holy Week. Pray more each morning. Read a spiritual book. In some years, I have fasted from Palm Sunday to Easter.

4. How do you commemorate Christ's Passion on Good Friday?

I take part in The Stations of the Cross in Reparation for Abortion (a prayer service and a procession to a site where abortions are performed). Later in the day, I sing at the Good Friday Service at church.

5. When do you color Easter eggs?

Alas, the girls are grown, so I don’t do this any more. My wife still colors some eggs. We eat them for the next week or so. Sometimes, I wish the girls had never grown up!

6. When do you buy Easter candy?

Back to the girls being grown. We don’t. We sometimes get a little candy for old time sake, but don’t make a big deal about it. We used to. We’d buy the candy a week or so before Easter, then Easter eve after the girls had gone to bed we’d hide the baskets and leave a trail of chocolate eggs leading the baskets. We’d say the eggs were rabbit droppings!

7. What is the first thing you plan to do Easter morning?

Take the dog for a walk, and say a prayer of thanks. Then get ready and head off to Mass to sing.

I tag no one in particular. Please feel free to answer these questions.

Being a Christian may mean breaking laws

There’s all sort of hullabaloo about the immigration issue and allegations that some Catholic leaders like Cardinal Mahoney are calling for breaking the law to help immigrants.

As far as I can tell, that’s not what he said, but some folks hate him so much that if he sneezed they’d accuse him of intentionally trying to infect people.

Putting aside the immigration issue, I think we have to keep some things in mind when it comes to Catholics obeying secular laws.

As Catholics, we are called to obey secular laws. But we are also called to obey our consciences.

My understanding is that if there is a conflict between obeying a law and obeying one’s conscience, the conscience takes precedence.

The provisos to this are that such a decision should only be made after much study and prayer, and that the conscience must be well-formed.

It can’t just be a rash or impulsive decision. It must be a carefully considered moral decision.

Catholics and Christians in general certainly have a long history of breaking the law for moral reasons.

Early Christians broke the law simply by being Christians. They were legally imprisoned, tortured, and even executed for breaking the law.

Heck, Jesus was executed as a criminal. So were many of the Apostles.

Jesuits broke the law by going into England during the Reformation.

Prior to the Civil War, Christians broke the law to help slaves escape.

During the NAZI era, Christians broke the law by hiding Jews and smuggling them to safety.

In some parts of the world, Christians break the law by conducting religious services and practicing their faith. I know a man who was flogged in the 1980s for attending a Mass in our good ally Saudi Arabia.

In the 1980s, a number of Christians broke the law by harboring political refugees as part of the Sanctuary Movement. (I was one of those lawbreakers, by the way.)

There are more instances. The point is that Christians have sometimes found themselves in situations in which they have to choose between obeying the law and obeying their faith.

As for me, I am a Catholic Christian first, and an American second.

Advice for Hillary

"A woman should be past her sexuality when she runs. Hillary still has sexual power, and I don't think people will accept that.” – Sharon Stone, cautioning Hillary Clinton about running for President at this time.

Rush Limbaugh marries

Sources confirm that Rush Limbaugh has married for the fourth time.

The thrice-divorced Limbaugh exchanged vows with himself April 1.

“I have finally found someone who could appreciate me for me,” Limbaugh said.

The ceremony took place at the Rio Linda Smoking Lounge.

Limbaugh not only married himself, he performed the ceremony.

A Supreme Court Justice, a bishop, and a minister were all on hand to hear the vows, but because Limbaugh’s opening remarks went so long, they all had to leave for other engagements.

“The all-seeing and all-knowing Maha Rushie has talent on loan from God,” Limbaugh declared. “Who better to hear my vows?”

Michael Savage and Bill O’Reilly were hospitalized during the ceremony after they got into a fist fight over which of them was the best man. Both were held at the hospital for observation for rabies after they bit each other.

Ann Coulter performed the Best Man duties.

There was no maid of honor because women were not allowed in the men’s only club.

Sean Hannity assisted in the ceremony dressed as an altar boy.

Limbaugh is honeymooning with himself at the Betty Ford Clinic.

Coffee haiku 3: Daylight Savings

Daylight Savings
clock and body in conflict
time for more coffee

National Poetry Month - a papal poet

April is National Poetry Month.

Today is the anniversary of Pope John Paul II’s death.

In his younger days, he was a respected poet. Here’s one of his to mark the day and the month.

Over This, Your White Grave

Over this, your white grave
the flowers of life in white—
so many years without you—
how many have passed out of sight?
Over this your white grave
covered for years, there is a stir
in the air, something uplifting
and, like death, beyond comprehension.
Over this your white grave
oh, mother, can such loving cease?
for all his filial adoration
a prayer:
Give her eternal peace—
[Krakow, spring 1939]

Pope John Paul II

Someday, today might just be his feast day.

Hotties

Some of my fellow bloggers of the female persuasion like to post pictures of performers they apparently find attractive. The “Lost” boys seem to be particularly inspirational these days.

I have nothing against that. In fact, I find it rather endearing.

(Ducks as female bloggers throw bricks.)

Anyway, I feel inspired.

Being of the male persuasion, I thought it might be of interest to post pictures of some of the more recent female hotties who stoke my spiritual fires.











Mother Teresa

Dorothy Day

























Catherine Doherty

Savage, O'Reilly, Coulter et al

I noticed something.

When I criticized Michael Savage, my readership suddenly spiked.

I don't know if that's because there are a lot of Michael Savage fans out there who slavishly seek out any mention of their guru, or that Savages's diatribe about Catholicism raised interest in attacks on him.

Maybe it's just the fact that I mentioned someone that people care about - and not the usual boring people like Jesus, Mary, St. Joseph, St. Tutilo, Dorothy Day, and G.K. Chesterton.

Another factor might be that I attacked him.

People like attacks. Just look at the ratings of Fox News.

So perhaps I should write pieces in which I go after people like Howard Stern, Britney Spears, Paris Hilton, and that nasty British guy on American Idol.

Okay, maybe I need to do some research first to get the facts straight.

Of course, lack of careful research and not getting the facts straight never stopped people like Michael Savage, Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, Ann Coulter, and Bill O'Reilly from pontificating.

Hey, that's a dig. I've started!

Now I just need to get them to stop talking long enough to listen to what Jesus actually said.

Ooops. That Jesus guy again. Old habits are hard to break.

Daylight Savings - blame Adam?

My friend Ron has his own spin on Daylight Savings.

I laughed aloud when I saw it. Good thing I was alone

D*** you, Adam - http://ronlegest.blogspot.com/

You should be dancing

I didn’t listen to Michael Savage last night to see if he had any more digs at the Catholic Church.

I went dancing.

For Valentine’s Day, I’d given my wife ballroom dancing lessons.

She’s good. As for me…

Imagine Curly Howard (Three Stooges) or Oliver Hardy on the dance floor.

(Truth be told, they were both actually good dancers.)

I’m not outrageously bad. As a musician, I have a sense of rhythm. It’s just that us – um – large framed fellows are not always “light” on our feet.

The instructor was talking about being careful with the new dance we were learning (Cha Cha) not to step on our partners’ toes. I turned to the fellow next me and commented that I used to be a basketball player, so I was more concerned about what I might do to the dancers around me with my elbows.

Rebound!

My dear wife and I did okay. No bodily harm inflicted on each other. But boy, my arthritic knee is not happy today.