Watch out for retirement

I went to a retirement party last night. It was a pleasant evening, and, as they often do at such celebrations, they presented the retiree with the gift of a watch.

I smiled and applauded with the rest of the gathered friends and former coworkers.

Then I began to wonder: Why is it traditional to give a retiree a watch?

After all, the person being honored is leaving the world of work, and so will be less subject to the demands of time. The person doesn’t necessarily have to be any set place at a specific time each day. He can set his own schedule. He doesn’t have to worry about being late.

Moreover, since the retiree is being honored for years of work, we can assume that he did not get repeatedly fired for being late. He must already have some device for telling time. He probably already has a watch. Maybe be a couple.

Being prone to sometimes twisted humor, I wondered if the purpose in giving a watch is to suggest that it’s now time for the retiree to realize that his minutes on Earth are running out. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Or maybe they just hope to give the retire something to do since he has no more work, like check his watch every five minutes. Yep. Five minutes has gone by. Let’s see what time it is five minutes from now.

I began to consider what would be more appropriate retirement gifts.

If his co-workers wanted to be funny, they could give him a month’s supply of prune juice. A nice, warm bathrobe and fuzzy slippers. Or perhaps a down payment on a casket.

Or they could think about what the person hopes to do with his retirement time. A fishing pole might be just the thing. Or a collection of the retiree’s favorite author’s works. Maybe a nice selection of crossword puzzles.

They could be sentimental. How about a framed picture of all the retiree’s former workers? That way he can still see them every day.

Or they can be creative. For example, give him a kite. Imagine the retiree heading out to the park in the middle of warm, sunny day, and working that kite higher and higher into the blue sky with birds singing and circling, while the rest of the world is stuck at desks or behind computer screens or loading semis.

Yeah.

When I retire, I hope they give me a kite.

Or that prune juice.

Youth ministry: Flamers for Jesus!

I think he's visited a few of our parishes already.

(A nod to Mark Shea )

The ordination dance

You put your right foot in
you put your right foot out
you put your right foot in
and you shake it all about ...

Hillary Boogies; Chelsea Has A Potential Suitor

Hmm. The dowery might have gone up if Hillary had been elected President!

An Obama song: No disrespect intended

With a nod to Orthometer

Egging Me On

My house was egged.

I spotted the egg shell debris and scattered fluids when I was taking out the garbage.

My first thought was that we had been the random target of one of the many roving packs of knuckle-headed teens who wander our neighborhood.

But then I thought, what if it wasn't random? And what if it was perpetrated by other sorts of knuckleheads?

After all, I am pretty out-spoken on this blog. I have offended a few folks along the way. And my home address is not exactly a secret.

I have been openly pro-life and critical of the pro-choice cabal. I have attacked the statements and policies of President Obama. I have opposed homosexual marriage and echoed Church statements that homosexual acts are intrinsically disordered. I have admonished schismatics for abandoning the Faith and distorting its teachings. I have fulminated against certain liturgical abuses and New Age practices. I have chided progressive Catholics for twisting or watering down the Faith. I have reproached traditional/conservative Catholics for the uncharitable nature of some of their actions and comments. I have berated Episcopalians for gradually straying even further from the Faith that their over-sexed founder abandoned and taking in over-sexed former Catholic priests. I have echoed the Church's opposition to the death penalty in most cases. I have called the Iraq invasion unjust and President Bush and his cronies war criminals. I have defended contemporary liturgical music and guitars in church. I have written bad haiku. I have been prone to humor and satire.

There's lots of material in this blog to offend fanatics.

And some of those fanatics - such as the pro-choicers - have a history of violence.

Of course, it could be individuals motivated to egg my house for a variety of reasons. Perhaps it was pro-choice pro-homosexual marriage progressive Catholic/schismatic Obama supporters - in other words, the kinds of folks who attend Spiritus Christi, or are on the staff at certain parishes. Or maybe it was pro-Iraq invasion pro-death penalty anti-guitar-at Mass traditional Catholics taking a break from writing (in Latin) to the Vatican. Maybe it was New Age literary critic Episcopalians who don't have a sense of humor.

I'm still inclined to think it was knuckle-headed teens.

But I'm keeping an eye out for cars with tell-tale bumper stickers - like "Women's Ordination Conference" or "It's Better In Latin" or "Obama" - that slow down in front of my house.

Sister knows what to wear

Dancing priest (not a liturgical dance!)

May God's Force be with you!

Now That's Worship Music!

Hang in there for the version of "Silent Night" (about 2:25 in)!

(Tip of the hat to The Ironic Catholic.)

Gay whales? Nuke `em!

People thought I was kidding when I said I'd actually seen a bumper sticker like this - something to offend everyone.

The Pope Speaks (Israeli Edit)

(If the Pope spoke as some of his Israeli/Jewish critics apparently think he should speak.)

In the predawn hours in the Vatican apartments, Pope Benedict's secretary, Father Shultz, knocks on the doors to the pontiff's bedroom and enters.

"Holy Father?" he says cheerfully. "Good morning. It's 5:30."

"Mmm. Ah." the pope mumbles. "As a member of the German race that slaughtered six million Jews in the concentration camps and now needs forgiveness, good morning."

"The papal kitchens will have coffee and oatmeal ready after Mass. Father X and several members of the staff will meet you in the chapel for the Mass."

The Pope stands up, stretches and looks out the window at the twinkling lights of Rome. He suddenly falls to his knees and bangs his head on the floor.

"Six million Jews can not enjoy the beauty of this morning because the Nazis murdered them in the camps, but this unworthy reluctant member of the Hitler Youth who will go to the chapel to say Mass and beg forgiveness of the God of Israel, says thank you," he laments as he forcefully slaps his cheek several times.

"Very good, you holiness. Oh, and Cardinal X asked me to tell you the final report on your visit to the Holy Land is ready."

The Pope picks up a knotted cord from his night table and begins to scourge himself vigorously, saying as he does so, "This abject representative of the Church that did not speak loudly enough and save more Jews from the murders perpetrated on six million members of God's Chosen People by the Nazis in concentration camps while the world turn its head will look over that report after breakfast so that he will see if he was sufficiently contrite and must make further atonement for the sins of his Church and his people."

"Speaking of that," Father Shultz says brightly, "some representatives of Native American groups from the United States have asked for an audience so they can reprimand you for not apologizing enough for the Spanish missions. They brought along clubs and tomahawks so you can walk a gauntlet in retribution."

Happy Birthday to a Great American Icon

And tomorrow ...

Wife: "Whatcha doin' today?"

Husband: "Nothin'."

Wife: "You did that yesterday."

Husband: "I wasn't finished."

Been there ...

A Sunday school teacher asked the children just before she dismissed them to go back to the church, "And why is it necessary to be quiet in church?"

Little Johnny jumped up and yelled, "Because people are sleeping!"

Fore - ordained

Taking advantage of a balmy day, three priests swapped their clerical garb for golfing attire and time out on the golf course.

After several really horrible shots, their caddy asked, "You guys wouldn't be priests by any chance?"

"Actually, yes, we are," one cleric replied. "Why?"

"Because," said the caddy, "I've never seen such bad golf and such clean language!"

Archbishop Dolan: Drawn to the Dark Side

Archbishop Timothy Dolan - by all accounts a good bishop with a solid orthodox and pro-life record - has not yet even been officially installed as the Archbishop of New York, and already he is being adversely affected by that moral cesspool known as Gotham.

In a news account today, Archbishop Dolan reported that as a St. Louis native he had rooted for the Cardinals over the Yankees in 1964.

But as Archbishop of New York, he said, "I will now become a Yankees fan."

?!#@!^&#!!

As a Boston-born lad, my gorge rose almost to the tip of my Red Sox cap as I read those words.

The Yankees?

I could accept the Mets, but not the evil empire.

We need to start a petition drive to help save him from this fate.

We should also steer him toward the Buffalo Bills - the only true New York-based NFL team - and away from the New Jersey Giants and New Jersey Jets.

We have a moral obligation to act now - before Opening Day!