Thursday, September 30, 2010

"Kapow, Alice, Right to the Moon!"

"I really embarrassed myself at the town-hall meeting last night," I told the little woman. "I shot myself in the foot several times."

"Maybe aim higher next time," she replied.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Long Live(r) Otto

Today is the commemorative death day of my Uncle Otto. I always liked Uncle Otto. He was kind of any early health nut. He took Carter's little liver pills all his life. When he died, they had to beat his liver to death.

Was He Wearing His Seat Belt?

The new owner of the company which makes the Segway one-person transporters has died. He fell from a cliff in England while riding his Segway. That's sad, but let's face it, folks, that's also darn funny.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Have a Heart

Weird and baffling, my dream last night. In it, the four cardinal virtues, the three theological virtues, the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, the seven deadly sins, the three extraordinary spiritual charisma, and the seven corporal works of mercy were engaged in a round-robin tournament of poker or some similar card game. You can imagine which won---and the consequences of that victory.


Saturday, September 25, 2010

Veni, vidi, vincit

Has any of you readers (I know "Has" sounds awkward, and you want to see "Have," but "any" is singular, not plural) studied Latin? I need to know how to translate my motto into Latin. The motto is "Pills, not hugs."


Either Way, You Gotta Fight

Instead of going to the movie theater as I told the little woman, I decided to visit the new martial-arts studio in town, as I could use a little conditioning, a little loosening up. Boy, was I surprised at the tools and techniques used at that studio, not at all what I imagined it would be like.

When I returned home a couple of hours later, Jonka asked, "So how was your movie?"

"Didn't see it," I replied, "I decided to check out that new martial-arts studio on main street."

"What martial-arts studio?" she asked.

"The one next to the In Seine Cafe," I said.

"You idiot," Jonka anwered, "you misread their sign. That's not a martial-arts studio---it's a marital-arts studio."

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Power of the Pen (and the Match)

My new book, "Delaware Punch Drunk," appears in bookstores on Oct. 1. Please look for it and buy it. No need to read it. Just buy it, then burn it. If you don't, the terrorists win.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

A Gargoyle's Prayer

Let us pray: Dear Lord, may we see Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, and Snooki of "Jersey Shore" (required to become a bleached blond like the other two) all ordered into the same jail cell to do time, with the consequences filmed for YouTube.

Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

The little woman and I commemorated our wedding anniversary with a leisurely dinner at a Melting Pot (an apt name, I think, in relation to a marriage) restaurant. I like to "put on" store clerks and restaurant waitresses (it gives me a fleeting but needed feeling of superiority, I guess).

So at the Melting Pot, I badgered the maitre d' about the real name of her restaurant. "Are you sure it isn't 'Melting Spot'?" I asked her several times. Lo and behold if she didn't finally glance at the large, official sign on the wall behind her, the sign with the logos of the restaurant which she had read hundreds of times, to make sure that she was or wasn't working for "Melting Spot."

Then with our waitress I persisted several times, "Are you sure this restaurant isn't named 'Smelting Pot'?" She too eventually double-checked her menu and her shirt tag to make sure she was or wasn't working for "Smelting Pot."

However, unlike that English-speaking Mexican-woman sportswriter who was recently "embarrassed" by what she saw when she entered the (men's) players' locker room after their N.F.L. game, and who had to appear scantily clad on several tv talk shows to complaint about it, the restaurant supervisor and the waitress weren't bleached blonds.


Monday, September 20, 2010

A+

Ever notice that every year in the past two or so decades tuition at public and private colleges rise at an annual rate higher than the national cost of living? I was pleased to read a recent national opinion article (whose name I unfortunately forget) describing the reasons for this, namely, the three a's: athletics, administration, amenities (which apply too to many high schools).

Too many colleges arbitrarily have doubled the number of players on their sports teams, increasing the need for more equipment and more coaches, increasing the number of their games and fancy travel arrangements, plush stadiums, etc. The number of administrators and staff persons at many colleges now match the number of instructors. Almost every "need" of students for their "self-image and happiness" now has to be met with some special program and staff. And "the manner of living to which the students have been accustomed" has to be met in the form of, e.g., effete cafeteria food such as sushi and wild nuts, niches or small rooms with cots in hallways for students to nap between classes, etc. All of this greatly increases cost and spending without having any direct, substantial, positive affect on students' learning, while at the same time diverting money from the hiring of more competent instructors and providing them with needed classroom supplies.

Meanwhile, as studies over the past decades consistently show, typical high-school or college graduates today have less general knowledge and poorer vocabulary and communication skills than their parents and grandparents of yesteryear. (I'm reminded of the latest college at which I taught: in one week I saw three separate students, who were tweeting on their electronic playmates, walk face-first right into posts.)

Sweet Sarah

I first met her at my doctor's office. She was beautiful, and her name is Sarah. She had a calming effect on me, causing me to see things somewhat differently. It took a little pleading, a little persuading, but I was able to have it agreed that I could take her out. I'm looking forward to this. My wife is at a W. o. F. convention (Wives of Farmers---they call themselves WoFFles) in Dover right now, so she won't know. I won't tell if you won't tell. Tonight I'll meet Sarah again with, I hope, a pleasant outcome. I'm excited. I'm looking forward to my date with Sarah Tonin.


His Elevator Doesn't Go All the Way Up

I was standing in the hallway of the building and awaiting the elevator to reach my floor. This impatient dude arrived right after me and pushed the elevator button, which was already lighted, several times.

"No, no," I said to him, "if you keep pushing the button, the increased acceleration of the elevator can harm its current passengers."

"Oh, sorry," he replied.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

When Mr. Opportunity Knocks

I was so damn depressed last night, worrying about my hoarding, my Social Security, the economy, the wars, rising poverty, floods and fires, the demise of good rock-and-roll, etc. So I called a suicide center. Somehow I reached one in Pakistan. When I told the hotline person my problem, he became so excited and asked me if I knew how to drive a truck.

Revenge of the Nerds

The little woman and I now have six grandchildren: four boys and two girls, two children for each of our own three offspring. Our own children are traditional, thank goodness-- no wild tattoos or piercings, no bleached blonds, etc. They even gave traditional names to the grandkids. But then it struck me. As I rearranged the names of the six, they came out to be: Donald, Huey, Duey, Louie, Daisy, and Minnie. Arrrgh! What a cruel joke to play on their old man!

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

You Are What You Are

Another early autumn, another school year. I miss my students---well, most of them. I miss calling each one "student." Most of them didn't like that. My colleagues called them "kids," a word which I (and my own old-time teachers) always considered second-rate English, to be used not of children beyond elementary-grade age, and to be used only in private in family circles. It always baffled me why teachers wouldn't call their clients by the one word which most precisely and with dignity signifies what they are: "student." Then I tried calling the youngsters by these other words: backpacker, deskoccupier, hallrambler, testbomber, "hey, you"---but they didn't like those names either.

Oddly, almost none of my students objected to being called "Christian" or "Catholic," although "Christian" appears only four or five times in the entire New Testament, and "Catholic" appears not at all. The word, "disciple," which the students would also proudly accept, appears almost 300 times in the N.T. Guess what "disciple" means? "Student."

Monday, September 13, 2010

Starbucks Cathedral

Early last evening I stopped at a Starbucks for a coffee and snack on my way home from my Hoarders Anonymous meeting. That Starbucks, I've noticed, is used by many young people as a meetup place. I couldn't help notice a young woman and a man who had just seated themselves at a table; I could tell they were meeting for the first time. The man had, er, one bad eye, a somewhat disfigured face, and a kind of hump on his back.

"So," the woman said to him, "your profile says that you like heights and hearing bells."

That's when I left.


Yes, Morm. No, Morm. Whatever You Say, Morm

The next season of tv programs is upon us. A recently new one is called "16 and Pregnant." Must be filmed entirely in Utah.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Timely

Newspaper headline from "The Onion": "Al Qaeda Also Fed Up with Ground-Zero Construction Delays"

Saturday, September 11, 2010

He Didn't Really Mean What He Said, Did He?

As a minor, unproductive theologian who has publicly debated Muslims, I have mixed admiration for and historical-theological criticism of Islamic beliefs. Which brings me to the lady on the bus. When I was riding the city bus to my downtown meeting of H.A. (Hoarders Anonymous), the woman sitting next to me was reading her Bible and mumbling. She eventually complained to me how Muslims are bent on converting or conquering the world in the name of Islam, and that good Christians are not like that, then badgered me with "Don't you agree? Don't you?"

As the bus halted at my stop and I was walking out its door, I quickly said to her, "I think Mohammed speaks in the gospels."

"What? Mohammed? Where?" she angrily demanded.

"Mohammed or Jesus---I can't remember which. Try reading Matthew 28:19-20," I replied as I exited.

September 11th and Beyond: The Bird's Eye View

As large as today's commemoration of the September 11th attack is, you can imagine how much larger it'll be on the tenth anniversary next year. The attack triggered the U.S. invasion of Iraq and Afghanistan.

It also prompts today my "I told you so." Not that anyone listens to me---well, my parrot, Holy Ghost, does and occasionally the little woman. Nine years ago I muttered, "No, no, not another land invasion of Asian countries. Saddam Hussein is being adequately supervised by U.S. air and naval power. Haven't we learned from Korea and Vietnam? Ten or more years from now, we'll still have thousands of troops in Iraq (and Afghanistan). Thousands of American soldiers will be killed and tens of thousands will be maimed for life, and billions of dollars will have been spent. And if the military draft isn't reinstated, we'll see little public protest in the U.S. against these invasions. Then after at least a decade in those foreign countries, things will 'end' in a draw at best. We'll leave, then all of the local interethnic and interreligious and political rivalries will return to their standard of normal. Of course, not a single neighboring country in that region will have lifted a finger to help the U.S., and even most of those we 'helped' eventually will turn on us. Even the Vatican and the U.S. bishops are urging the U.S. not to invade, but watch, after American soldiers have been placed there, the bishops will mute their opposition to these wars."

I wish we had then and will have in the future a U.S. President and backers who will have the courage and wisdom to keep land soldiers the hell out of countries, unless American citizens or significant American property are harmed or are in serious and immediate danger. I wish our leaders will spend those trillions of dollars on increasing U.S. air and naval power around the world and in improving our vital systems of intelligence and security in our homeland. Then announce to the world that any attack on the U.S. by another nation will be answered by devastating and sustained air (and naval) power. Possible attacks by rogue, terrorist groups will simply have to be intercepted beforehand by improved intelligence and security tactics. If terrorist groups can be hit by air in their home region, let it be that (witness the increasing success of air-drone attacks in Afghanistan now), but let us stop ordering Americans to die and be damaged in antiquated land battles. And, lastly, let us think twice before we convince ourselves that our military and our U.S. citizens have the duty to do "nation building" in foreign lands.

My other wish is that one or two decades from now, most of the U.S. military personnel and their families will not have the misfortune of looking back and concluding that their sacrifices were in vain.

Now we have the controversy over the proposed new Islamic mosque near the World Trade Center in New York City. In light of the history of harsh anti-Catholicism and anti-Semitism in the U.S., where oh where is the united voice of the American Catholic bishops in defending the religious liberty of American Muslims?

Well, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it---unless, of course, I hear otherwise from Holy Ghost.




Thursday, September 9, 2010

One Man's Junk Is Another Man's Treasure

The little woman and I don't much speak to each other anymore. It's not that we have nothing to say, though I am a man of few words. It's more that we don't see each other anymore. It's not that we're more frequently separated lately from one another. It's more that we can hardly view each other. You see, every room in our house is now piled high with stuff. By "high" I mean at least six feet---and because I'm six feet tall and she's less than that---well, you get the picture. By "stuff" I mean things I myself, not she, have collected and moved to Seine and continue to collect. I think I'm a collector. I have piles and stacks of books, notebooks, old grading books, old textbooks, newspapers, magazines, journals, posters, boxes of videos, etc., dating from today to about ten years back.

Jonka is calling the tv show, "Buried Alive: Hoarders," as I speak.


Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Cobwebs

I enjoyed again watching the fine H. G. Wells' movie from the 1950s, "The Time Machine." I've noticed that in similar films about time travel by such machines, the occupant of the vehicle never eats or drinks while transmitting through time. I think that if you're riding in such a contraption, you'd enjoy eating corn on the cob. I don't think it would affect things one way or another. But the point I'm trying to make here is that corn on the cob is real good, isn't it?

Monday, September 6, 2010

Ratty Tat Too

All this fuss about tattoos! I think tattoos, especially large ones or several of them on a person, are repulsive, dirty-looking, weird. Yet, after watching a few episodes of tv's "L.A. Ink," and developing a crush on its main woman tattoo artist, I was persuaded to visit a tattoo parlor. First, I received the traditional butterfly tattoo. Then I asked for and was given the image of an anchor. With plenty of time scheduled for this, I next obtained a tattoo of dice. Then she talked me into one featuring the state capitol of Delaware; this was followed by a large one of Popeye. Well, I found that I had to have a second tattoo butterfly to remind me of the first, then a second anchor to have me reflect upon the first one; a second tattoo of dice came next, because I wanted a refresher about the first dice; I had to have another capitol building at Dover in order not to forget the previous one; then, of course, a second Popeye to honor the first one.

Dear Lord, then I realized the addictiveness toward tattoos about which you hear people speak. Good thing my tattoos all were temporary.

In the Wild

I have no desire to visit Africa or any other hot-weather region. But I wonder. I wonder if Africa has zoos. If it does, it seems logical that its zoo cages would be filled with dogs, cats, rabbits, turtles, hamsters, and goldfish.