Christmas Still

The 24th and 25th were wonderful. Spent time with the family. Opened the new toys for the "kids." Katrina's first Christmas met with her approval, and seemed to make up for weeks of being hauled away from trees, pies and wrapped puddings. She discovered the joy of feathered toys, and, I can safely say, any bird who gets near her will discover the terminal aspects of play. Her current favorite is a stuffed, vaguely bird-like thing with feathers on it like a rooster's tail. She immediately attacked and appropriated it. Katzie, who has never cared for feathery toys, preferring rolling, jingling and glittering stuff, went to see what was so fascinating and received a growl. I went to see, and received a growl. It is definitely Katrina's toy - though she isn't serious about the growling and comes to me, daring me to take it, just so I will and she can chase me, and dropped it close to Katzie so she could cuddle with him on their favorite bed, which is me.

The Midnight Service was decent, though a real pea-soup fog and the nasty weather currently smashing all the way across the country dampened - literally and figuratively - some of the joyfulness.  We had a performance by a classical guitarist often featured on NPR, which was wonderful.  Christmas morning had a service of carols and readings with Eucharist, and I went with the sister-in-law, and was one of the four who made up the choir.  It's the die-hards that show up to Easter Vigil and/or Christmas Day service.  The four were a soprano, an alto, a tenor and a bass, however, so we did well.  We rocked "Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming," certainly.

James cometh upon the weekend coming, so Christmas will then be complete.

I sit in my house, with water dripping, nee pouring, from the light fixture over my bed, water heater malfunctioning, and am still content.  Father Jay, in his vigil sermon, said that the Heavenly Host had appeared to the shepherds, not to the great in temple and palaces.  I wonder, though, if they didn't appear in those places - in all places - but only the poor and outcast heard them, because it was only to the poor and outcast that a Messiah, a King, like Jesus could be Good News.  I am joyful in His coming, and He comes, still, in all of us.  That, I firmly believe, is the Second Coming;  we embody God, Jesus returns in us.  Fools who teach that altruism is a vice, who measure others' worth in their own selfish scales, they have not suffered, because they haven't learned from lack or privation.   Such people are the first to cry foul when change and chance take from them their "worth."  Some are too weak to learn, even then, the strength of reliance.  Fiscal cliff, economic disaster?  I kind of hope so.  Maybe, that would bring enough suffering, shatter enough complaisance and false "self-reliance" to be the tipping point, bringing enough people to that state to form the Second Coming.  Until then, what Good News could come for the replete, the insulated, the over-fortunate from a King who demands sacrifice for and reliance upon the other; who commands community and altruism; who puts at no value all the things that give all this - laughable - "worth?"  Only those who lack - and still feel that lack, even in plenty - can comprehend, can appreciate, can Become That.  Too much suffering in this world? 

Perhaps, not enough.

Happy Thanksgivings to all the Peoples

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It's the Most Wonderful Seeeeeeeason of All!

Nick Fury Hates Romney

Every time I feel that Romney is just too stupid to become president . . .

. . I'm haunted by this thought:

August 25

My brother, Jeff, has died.

Please keep his family and his soul in your prayers.

There has to be a way to divorce ourselves from the right-wing, to completely withdraw from this corrupted and doomed society.  There has to be a way to pull the humans away, and keep us away from the beasts.  Why should we have to recognize their way of doing things, or them?  We need to be away from them and have them away from us, the homophobes, the uber capitalists, the tea partiers, the right-wing beasts, in general.  We should find a way to . . . remove ourselves from them, entirely, and treat them like vampire-ghosts, unreal, negative importance.

There has to be a way.

I Try Not to Believe It, Really

. . but I've become almost totally convinced the only way to save humanity, to save ourselves, is to kill off every hard-right conservative, and I do mean kill. I may feel differently tomorrow, but they are not changeable, or they would have done so. Unthinking, unfeeling, inhuman. No loss to Mankind, really, and wiping them out would be of great benefit. We're goint to have to act, and soon.

******************************************************************

August 1

NO.  NOT GOING TO DO IT.  I WROTE THE WORDS, I'LL APOLOGIZE FOR THEM.  KILLING WON'T SOLVE ANYTHING, AND I WON'T, WON'T, WON'T BETRAY MY OWN INTEGRITY JUST BECAUSE I'M AFRAID AND DESPAIRING. 

THERE HAS TO BE ANOTHER WAY TO KEEP THEM FROM BEING A THREAT.  HUMANS - FULL HUMANS - USE THEIR BRAINS AND THEIR COMPASSION TO OVERCOME.

Video Resume

Socialist Capitalism

For capitalism to survive, it must have socialism.  The purpose of capitalism is to accumulate and concentrate wealth in the hands of individuals.  This, carried to its logical conclusion, means that, eventually, that wealth will be so superconcentrated that it no longer has any worth, the great majority of individuals having too little to be useful for exchange.  In addition, before that point is reached, the lack of that wealth in the hands of great swathes of the population mean that consumption will drop, causing prices to rise, and consumption to drop further.  All along the way of this suicidal path, public services will be cut, leading to rise in disease, illiteracy, homelessness, child mortality and a decline in the quality of the workforce and the general culture of the society. 

I've had people tell me that I'm an idealist - I'm not;  I believe human nature is so steeped in selfishness, apathy, and greed that no one can be trusted to do right by other individuals.  Until such a time as we have evolved beyond these vices - and the fact that many are embracing a more altruistic ideal demonstrates that evolution - we must regulate, firmly and heavily and with real consequences, those individuals who take the reigns of our economy and employ the average consumer - all employers.  Yes, the government is absolutely necessary to take care of those who are not in the seats of power, particularly the poor and elderly, the unemployed and ill, because only strengthening individuals strengthens the whole society.  For the reasons listed above, we cannot leave such care to churches and private institutions, which have failed and continue to fail spectacularly.  Medicine and technology need, particularly, to be removed from a private sector, as being fantastically important to the general well-being.  The protests against this are based purely on a spoiled society which has grown used to acquiring unnecessary luxuries, aided by a capitalist outlook which has made many necessary advancements and pastimes (play is a psychological necessity) luxuries by being allowed to overcharge.  The enormous profits are not, as claimed, fed back into overhead or research - we know this - but into the personal profits of individuals.  In no other state of mind would we allow someone who had an idea once to continue to take money off of us for that idea, nor would we consider it a privilege to do work that someone else needs us to do to make any money themselves. 

It is time the vast majority of America woke up from the American dream, which is a lie, and grew up from the selfish idea that a minor portion of the wealth that they produce goes to help others - especially those who call themselves Christian.  Why do we not demand regulations on corporations, on personal wealth, on politicians' pay and perks?  Because of the mindless ignorance that sells the idea that, somehow, it may one day be you, and the greed and childishness that makes that a good dream, and the ridiculous notion that only vicious, darwinian "competition" drives improvement and striving - if it doesn't, it's a lie, if it does, it's a fault that needs correcting, by regulatory force if necessary. 

In the end, the greatest realization will have to be that scarcity is not an objective reality, but a state arising from a greedy mentality.  Redistribution of wealth acknowledges that a community is the basis of success, not a single human, fallible and mortal like the rest of us.

Haka

For all who doubt that there is a certain beautiful, joyous bloodthirst in all children, regardless of race.

One of My Favorite Places

Rose Hill Cemetery in Macon, GA

The Gate

View from one of many hills

The Bond Tomb

Civil War graves

Unusual tombs

Two Typical Views

Most tourists come to visit Duane Allman's and Berry Oakley's graves.  There are much better reasons;  it's beautiful, restful, historic, dramatic, creepy - and all at the same time.  You can go from the efficiency and symmetry of a Southern military memorial field, to the vine-wrapped, leaf-dark ornateness of a Victorian cemetery, complete with mausolea, cracked hillside crypts, evocative of the vampires of Highgate in a short walk.   The place covers 65 acres, includes Catholic and Jewish sections, a Civil War cemetery, and various notables - but the loveliness of it is enough.

For James

This Sort of Thing is Why

NOAA had to issue an official denial of the existence of mermaids.

This, because Animal Planet TV ran a mockumentary called Mermaids:The Body Found.   During "Monster Week" on Animal Planet.

The CDC, if you follow the link to the article, has also had to deny the existence of zombies. 

Now, maybe, if it weren't during something called "Monster Week," and maybe, if there weren't computer-generated graphics in pretty much every popular film made these days, and maybe, if Orson Welles hadn't issued an apology and denial in a similar incident  .  . . on radio . . . 72 YEARS AGO, I might believe humanity had a chance, and we could make the world better without exterminating large numbers of people who haven't quite mastered "human," yet.

I'm Usually Fairly Clear on Mythology

. . but I have no idea what's going on here.



I mean, I recognize Durga and Kali, and the unfortunate incident that gave Ganesha his elephant head, but . . . fitting all together is beyond me.   Hindu mythology has alwas eluded me.

Late to the Party, as usual

I found this hilarious.

The CAKE

This is Mike and Melinda's wedding cake:

Beautiful, yes?

And, yes,  it is actually cheesecake. 

Mr. and Mrs. Brunson

My nephew and his new wife.

I'm glad I went.  They have never, never looked so radiantly happy.  They had the "long-form" Episcopal wedding, so I was thoroughly churched this weekend.  The reception was incredible, if, for no other reason, the incredibly wonderful food.  The wedding cake was three layers - and each layer a different type of cheesecake, vanilla bean, key lime, and New York style.  There were lovely young men to ogle for me, lovely young women for James, and a very nice hotel room. 

That said:  I'm glad to be out of Atlanta.  All I could think of while I was there was "It will be so nice when I gain the power to scour the earth and this will all be green again."  It's like living in a cement mixer full of Republican/Libertarian dregs.

THAT's a surprise

You Scored as Aragorn Samwise Gamgee 83% Aragorn 83% Galadriel 77% Gimli 70% Meriadoc Brandybuck (Merry) 67% Legolas 63% Frodo Baggins 60% Saruman the White 57% Gollum 47% Gandalf the Grey 47% Boromir 37% Arwen of Rivendell 37% Peregrin Took (Pippin) 17% Eowyn of Rohan 13%

My Nephew Gets Married Saturday

My nieces and nephews have been a combination of both siblings and children to me (no South jokes, please).  My last nephew marries Saturday in Dunwoody. 

I have to tell you, folks, it feels significant.  I hope I can finally lay everything down when he's safely deposited in the arms of his beloved (before the bishop, at that!)   I, naturally, haven't said any of this to them, but it just feels like . . . time.

I've struggled just about as long as I can, taken a lifetime's worth of sadness and loss in 44 years, and, while I'll keep going if required, it seems I've done all I can, become as decent a person as I ever have the potential of being and  . . . . I'm just tired, guys.  I doubt I'll go to heaven, if there is such a construct.  Hell is just repetition of life here until the Kingdom comes, and we all are together in joy (if you were in Hell, would you know it?), so, I accept that and just want the rest that comes before I start again.  If it's the Big Rest, I'll be glad of that - or, not me, but I, the Big I that is actually all there is.  Honestly, the normal x-rays were a big disappointment.  It would've been a definite sign that I was being allowed to go. 

What more can I do?  What more is to be expected of me?  I've given all I can, I believe, and that so very little.  This isn't self-pity, just a realization that I've gone as far as I can.

The Results are in . . .

The chest x-rays are "normal."

Now, all that remains is whatever is still wrong with me that's giving me a persistent cough.

Frankly, I was kind of looking forward to bad news.  I can't bring myself to do myself in, but an invitation home wouldn't be unwelcome.

Vital Concerns in the News

Investors are upset because Zuckerberg wears a hoodie.

Wow. 

People dying, starving, killing themselves and/or others.  The planet in a fever to get rid of the infection called Humans.  North Korea is still North Korea.

But, no, let's hear about Zuckerberg's hoodie.

First, great - yay Facebook.  By the dubious standards of a greedy and rather bestial societal outlook, Zuckerberg made heaps o' money and is a success.  Hoo-freakin'-ra.  He's still an awkward twat who's unresponsive to the people who made that money for him, but he's rich, so he must be better'n the rest of us commoners.  He's not even geeky cute, like Jesse Eisenberg who played him in the movie.  See:



Even without hoodie - not hot.



Rocks a hoodie

 
Case closed.

Second, why IN. THE. WORLD. would I, or anyone else, care what investment bankers like or don't like?!  The complaint one analyst gives is it shows "immaturity" and a lack of  the respect due (please, no tittering from the audience)  to the bankers.  Worst of all - apparently - it says that Zuckerberg is saying "I'm who I am, regardless of what you expect me to be" and . . . herein lay the disrespect.  Oh, God.  We're not conforming to the expectations of the holy and blameless financiers?  The people who dragged our entire nation into a depression and then stole - yes stole - taxpayer money given in good faith for a bailout for their private enrichment?  Really?  He's disappointed them?  Then I guess I can give up on my dreams of a public corporation, given that I'd have them tarred, feathered, then pilloried.  I'm glad to see the austerity required of "all of us in this country" (again, please, contain your laughter) hasn't dented the incredible arrogance and ego of the wealthy, nor taught them any sense at all.  We own their asses, and, through sheer idiotic swagger, they still manage to cow us.  Amazing.  What's wrong with us?

Third, can we get on with the revolution and get rid of rich and poor and a paid-aristocrat government so we can actually hear news? 

My suggestions for a better world?  Well, maybe I wouldn't kill all the lawyers, but heavily regulating them and their fees, maybe even getting rid of private law firms would be good, and if the rich were expected to pay in taxes what they actually owe to the society that made them rich, they wouldn't have the money, leisure, and swagger to get worried about fucking hoodies.  The richer you are, the more, proportionally, you owe to the society around you.  That's just all there is to it.  Don't like it?  Go away and make yourself rich all alone with nobody else around you.  Idiot.

From a Friend on Facebook

The News

Went to the doctor after three months of coughing. 

He prescribed antibiotics, as well as Welbutrin(sic) to get me to stop smoking.  However, the antibiotics were a "just in case" and he insisted, forcefully, on having my chest x-rayed before I left the office.  Should hear in a few days.

I don't know which news would be good news, at this point. 

I think that where I stand . . .

. . is that we must be aggressively, ruthlessly, honest with ourselves.  Our culture of extroversion, there's a tendency to focus on other to the point we don't know why we're doing what we do, which is poison.  Kindness is done for a reason, and whether it's good or not depends on the reason, not the act.

To clarify, for those who do not comprehend moral complexity, I believe that what we consider a good act may be actually a bad or harmful act, if done with the harmful motivation or hatred.  This is, of course, applicable only to misapprehension of a supposed act of kindness.  A healthy mind could not conceive of a situation in which bringing a painful and unnecessary death to others would be morally laudable in any case.  I understand that most would understand I was addressing people who are not homicidally insane, so this seems a silly and unnecessary point, but someone seemed to misapprehend. 

Buratino

Nothing pulls me out of a black funk better than utter bafflement.

Now, A.I. left me so depressed that I could barely move.  Being aspie-obsessive, I set out to find a cheerful, non-Disney version of the Pinocchio story.  I found Buratino.  Huzzah.  This was quite a find, as it is Tolstoy's version of the familiar tale, and, having read and liked Collodi's story, but being unable to find a copy, he made up his own version.  Seriously.  That's how this came to be.

There've been a couple of film versions and Buratino himself is a much-loved figure amongst Russian children.  I looked forward to the '75 film because, yes, I like much of Soviet and post-Soviet Russian/Ukrainian film, especially their handling of fairy tales.  The Russians have a good sense of humor - which is why, I suppose, there hasn't been the first national suicide pact in history - and I grew up hearing many of their stories.  You've heard at least one - "Sleeping Beauty."  Being familiar, I can follow most of the films without subtitles - Morozko and Dobrynya Nikitich i Zmey Gorynich were easy, with only a few culture-specific wtf moments.

Then I hit the concrete wall that is Buratino.  I enjoyed it immensely, btw, I just have no idea what the HELL is going on, most of the time.  I'm sure a good deal of this is because it is an Italian story filtered through a post-Imperial Russian consciousness enamored of commedia dell'arte of the French school.  Still, it is disturbing and wonderful, all at once.  Some, I recognize from Collodi's original work - the "fire-eater" puppet master (though I never stopped to wonder, as a child, why a puppet master might need a whip;  perhaps Italian puppets are more feral), the carpenter who discovered the magic log the puppet is carved from, the Blue (Torquoise) Fairy's (La Fata Turchina's) loyal poodle servant, the attempted murder of the puppet by a poorly-disguised cat and fox.   Collodi's original was pretty much a child's acid trip, so the Soviets decided it just wasn't odd enough, apparently.

I thought I was prepared - I had seen Ivan Ivanovich chase Baba Yaga's pig-sleigh in Morozko, a three-headed dragon riding a camel in Dobrynya i Zmey, but I was wrong. 

As far as I can make out, it starts as the basic Pinocchio (pinnochic?) story, up to the puppet theatre, at which point we are introduced to a disturbingly-sad boy clown.  I'm familiar with Pierrot, in principal, but this little bastard never gets happy, and I never imagined Pierrot as a child.  It's just distressing, in a beautiful kinda way.  Now, naturally, Pierrot is beaten by a mephitic child Harlequin (Pierrot not having had all the sorrow wrenched from him possible by his costume, apparently) bearing a bamboo stick.  This is, apparently, the height of hilarity to the theatre goers, so, to put them in a pants-wetting paroxysm, Harlequin comes in with two bamboo sticks to work over the copiously-weeping Pierrot.  It is, at this point, that Buratino leaps up from the audience;  being wooden, and thereby impervious to the apparent inbreeding affecting the audience, he has had enough, and challenges the suprisingly good-natured Harlequin to a bamboo stick duel, defending Pierrot, whom, apparently, Buratino has understandably mistaken for a damsel in distress.  This wins the puppets over, the audience cheers (despite Buratino's voice, reminiscent of aggression between the clans of chalkboard and pointy-ended garden implements), but the whip-bearing puppet master is furious.  Yay.  He hangs Buratino up to use as firewood (no-brainer:  this is in the Collodi story) but is saved by the cheerful Harlequin and the disturbingly goth-angsty Pierrot (he really does consume me, this tragic puppet), who get him to make the puppet master sneeze.  Of course - part of most legend cycles.  From here, the puppet master gives him money (for no readily apparent reason), and there is a dance number in  a toy box in which all the puppets prance cheerily, except for Pierrot, who needs to be kept away from any razor blades or sleeping pills.  Then, naturally, we switch to everyone dancing like complete idiots in the town square, with hosepipes going at maximum pressure, in one of the well-known spontaneous Mentos commercial outbreaks of the 70's.

From here, the film gets zany (dancing frogs, a murder attempt on a wooden child - you know, the regular).

Except for Pierrot, who really does bother me - not in a David-the-robot-boy way, but because he's so romantically tragic, and that's wrong for a child actor.  Of course, he was a Soviet child actor, so he may really have been that deep and depressed and deeply depressed. 

Now, the Torquoise Fairy originally appeared as a child in Collodi's tale, so, I know her, so, I'm assuming that the boy dressed like Captain Hook's really fabulous little brother is her poodle.  We know it's a boy because, when he (inevitably) sings, he seems to have gone through puberty around the age of four.  I hope for that child's sake, given the costuming and knowing that this film would be required viewing for all good Party-loyal children, that Soviet kids were far kinder schoolmates than American ones.  If not, this kid's dance card would be full until he was around 38.

At the end there is - surprisingly - a musical number, in front of a pack of clearly Party-loyal children in a Party-loyal audience packed in a Party-constructed theatre to watch good, wholesome, Party-approved fun.  Watch, as, during the bafflingly wooden and strangely-hypnotic choreography, the children playing the main parts appear in the clapping audience out of makeup and costume, which, except for Pierrot and the poodle, is distinctly not an improvement.  Pierrot never smiles, but he does seem to stop crying for the final dance.

Enjoy.

James and His Lucy - UPDATE

Lucy will be receiving surgery and treatment, as her prognosis is good.

This is still not a sure thing, as she has had a dangerous time under anesthesia before - her heart rate dropped precipitously - but, as James has wisely decided and I agree, a possible death under anesthesia is far to be preferred to a long, slow, painful certain death from cancer.

I know he would appreciate your encouragement, as well.

One o' Them Apostrophes

I'm beginning to understand that these Republican/Libertarian yahoos actually, really, positively believe that the only reason someone is poor is because they simply haven't done anything. They truly, truly believe that living in a society does not mean that you owe your success or wealth to the contributions of anyone else - it's all you. They actually do believe that the only reason that you would support equitable redistribution of wealth is because you yourself are jealous of the rich, want all their money, and are too mediocre and lazy to go out and get rich yourself - that you only care about you (which, btw, tells us who they care about). They honestly believe that taxation is theft - they got the money with absolutely no help or contribution from the government or anyone else and so to take it is stealing.




The only thing that will cure it, is being poor, living the lives, the grinding, despairing poverty that others live. Maybe they should have their wealth forcibly taken from them, or be forcibly removed someplace to fend utterly alone and without any society for a time;  they certainly deserve neither the wealth, nor the society, and are, at the very least, psychologically compromised because they do believe these things, in defiance of all reality.



I've also resolved that I refuse to acknowledge a person with these sort of views as Christian - I simply refuse. It's not a judgment, it's a fact, from everything we can know about Jesus; they are absolutely outside everything that He taught, did, or believed about money, community, and mutual accountability. Their salvation is between them and God, but they are NOT Christian.

Tonight's Psalms

Every one seems to speak to the situation our politics are in - - all these libertarian types who speak about the bottom-feeding scum who wanna take their hard-earned money, who want to strip the rich of their "rights" to grind them into meal for more profit.  The funny thing is how many of these conservative libertarian types also say they're Christians.

Hmmmm. 


Psalm 12

Help me, LORD, for there is no godly one left; *
the faithful have vanished from among us.
Everyone speaks falsely with his neighbor; *
with a smooth tongue they speak from a double heart.
Oh, that the LORD would cut off all smooth tongues, *
and close the lips that utter proud boasts!
Those who say, “With our tongue will we prevail; *
our lips are our own; who is lord over us?”

“Because the needy are oppressed,
and the poor cry out in misery, *
I will rise up,” says the LORD,
“and give them the help they long for.”

The words of the LORD are pure words, *
like silver refined from ore
and purified seven times in the fire.
O LORD, watch over us *
and save us from this generation for ever.
The wicked prowl on every side, *
and that which is worthless is highly prized by everyone.



Psalm 14

The fool has said in his heart, “There is no God.” *
All are corrupt and commit abominable acts;
there is none who does any good.
The LORD looks down from heaven upon us all, *
to see if there is any who is wise,
if there is one who seeks after God.
Every one has proved faithless;
all alike have turned bad; *
there is none who does good; no, not one.

Have they no knowledge, all those evildoers *
who eat up my people like bread
and do not call upon the LORD?

See how they tremble with fear, *
because God is in the company of the righteous.

Their aim is to confound the plans of the afflicted, *
but the LORD is their refuge.

Oh, that Israel’s deliverance would come out of Zion! *
when the LORD restores the fortunes of his people,
Jacob will rejoice and Israel be glad.


Now, every time I hear Newt, or Ron Paul, or Rick Santorum, or Mittens the Clown, or any other so-called fiscal conservative speak, I can say "Dixit insipiens."

God strike them soon, so they may learn humility.

David Shepherd, This is (Actually Not) Your Life

I've tried talking with you, David, because I was stupid enough to believe your protestations of goodwill (perhaps you are so self-absorbed you even believe them!), and even began to feel that your protests that you were being ganged-up on by liberal bullies at TA (even though no one makes you go there - I don't go looking to bash-or-be-bashed on con/evo sites) was worthy of being considered - I withdrew from comment to you unless it could be expressed compassionately or, alternately, without emotion of any kind.

I'm done with it, and done with trying fruitless engagement with you in your pity party, David. You are hurtful, bigoted, aggressive, self-righteous and hypocritical.

No one is oppressing you. No one is bullying you. No one is trying to silence you. However, you are not interested in actually being understood, just melting-down at everyone else and masquerading your contempt and outright hate as "christianity." From now on, I have no intention of engaging with you - I will continue to call lies and bigotry what they are, regardless of protestations of "real conviction."

Other than that, consider this divorce complete. You refuse to recognize my Christian faith, denigrate my reasons for my beliefs, answer me with hatred, and pretend you are the victim, then - unbelievably in an adult - turn around and act amazed (and, again, perhaps you are so self-absorbed you really are) that others who are (fags and dirty commie hippies though we are!)  human and just as emotional and capable of being hurt as you are BUT WITHOUT THE CENTURIES OF SOCIETAL PRIVILEGE AND SUPPORT YOU HAVE BEHIND YOU, respond in kind. Everything you say and do in public says, "God Hates Fags" just as clearly as a Fred Phelps funeral protest, and not only do you not care, but we are supposed to consider you loving us for doing it!  I don't need more people like that in my life; there are enough in the relationships I *don't* choose.

I invite anyone else to comment freely on the way they have experienced you. It'll be published, and you can argue away, or shed all the crocodile tears of commiseration you want. I am done with you. When a part of the body is too broken or poisoned to function, the rest of the body can, indeed must, say "I have no need of you." I respect that that is what you guys have been telling us, TEC, gays, liberals, all along, and supported it. The flipside is that you may find out you are just as unwholesome to *us*.

It Strikes Again :(

PLEASE keep my friend James and his feline companion of long standing, Lucy, in your prayers.

Lucy has cancer.  We don't have all info yet, as they are to see a veterinary oncologist, but Lucy is fairly advanced in years, and long-term treatments would be both prohibitively expensive to James (he has only just managed to land another job in Atlanta thanks to our "improving" economy) and far too physically-taxing for Lucy.

As Will Arnett said in Semi-Pro, "Yeah.  It's a shit-f***in'-sandwich, Dick."


UPDATE:  PIC OF LUCY

My Brother, Jeff . . .

. . is dying.

We got the news this weekend. The timeline is not certain, but the cancer is back and inoperable, his heart is not moving fluid out, the pain medication, which is necessary, cannot help but have a negative effect on the heart's action. He is realistic, but calm. He knows death is a certainty, but sees the gift of it in bringing his focus to doing rather than procrastinating.

And - of course - we all know death is a certainty, for each and every one of us. Rather gets lost in this season's preaching, doesn't it?

There has to be a death to be a resurrection.

Let's All Go to New Zealand

Okay, found a few reasons to stay with the AC.

Lenten Exercise, Indeed!

Oh, and . . . . MAJOR SPOILERS!!!!!!!!





I've been setting my super-aspie sense to obsessing over one thing, as usual.

This past couple of weeks it's been comparing the various film versions of The Turn of the Screw.

Now, this is not - probably - the best pursuit for someone prone to suicidal depression.  I've always loved the story;  it's made people say "WTF just happened?" since 1895.  Is the governess a nutjob?  Is it a haunting?  Is Miles really a perfect little gentleman or a sociopathic monster-in-the-making?  What was Quint's "corruption?"  Was there any corruption?  Is the uncle the problem?  The governess?  The children? 

I have discovered three important things in this comparison:

First - A great many of these adaptations are not called The Turn of the Screw; e. g. - The Innocents, The Haunting of Helen Walker, Presence of Mind, In A Dark Place. 

Second - Most can't seem to manage the delicate balancing act of leaving the questions;  The Innocents is undoubtedly the best at that.  Personally, I believe that the children, especially Miles, were damaged goods at the hands of the sexually-omnivorous Quint, and the puritanical governess picked up on the "wrongness" and slowly went crazy trying to exorcise it, to the point of driving one child mad and the other to death.  However, I like making that decision, and seeing other possibilities.  The 1999 Jodhi May version is the most disappointingly direct, in many ways.  From the start, you're saying, "What a prig!  I wouldn't leave my kids in her hands!" 

Third - There are a surprising number of really good young actors out there, especially creepy, sleazy little boys. 

Valerie Bertinelli's version was surprisingly un-bad, despite the unexplained decision to make the governess American.  Leelee Sobieski's version was un-surprisingly bad - I call it The Turn of the Screwhead.  The worst is the 1992 version with Patsy Kensit - the governess is cold and un-engaging, but, worse, little Miles is just poorly-acted.  Not the kid's fault - it's a hell of a role for a pre-pubescent.
I  champion the '59 tv version - of which I've only seen this bit - because it has Ingrid Bergman(yay) and Miles might live in that version.  I don't like it when kids die in a story.  Doesn't make it a bad story, just makes me sappy.

So, enjoy a distillation of my 2 week dystopia.








(For fans of Bram Stoker's Dracula - See! Lucy didn't die. She just moved to Spain and became a governess!)

Another Reason to Love Living in Southwest GA*

A juvenile raccoon fell through the ceiling into my bathroom.

I keep the bathroom door shut, so no kitties were harmed (or terribly interested) in the making of this anecdote. 


* If you're into that nature bs.

Comment Would Be Pointless

Today's Feast Day

Gregory da Illuminator

LINK - NEITHER RECOMMENDING NOR WARNING AGAINST, BUT I DID USE HIS PHOTO

Angry White Boys

They really haven't done it well since early 2000's - and, I'm an angry white boy, so I should know.

Two of my favorites from that period recently popped back into my mind.

First, The Hives, because Mimi brought up modern prophets and I am furious because, when Rowan Williams showed his true colors,  nobody ever listened to me that the man was trying to make his empire.  He's leaving because he knows his covenant's dead, and he can't be Englishy pope, leaving destruction in his wake.



And, secondly, The Vines, because I'm just so happy that Williams' is gettin' the hell on after December.  I give him the sacred Southern blessing:   "Don't let the door hit ya where the Good Lord split ya."



"She never loved me" makes me think of Williams and his anti-American spiel, while "Come here, I'll take your photo for ya, I'll drive you around the corner, you know you really oughta move out to California," makes me think of his serpent-song to episcopal egos.

However, there's a caveat.  I always liked The Vines -  even more since finding out Craig Nicholls has Asperger's (though saddened that that came out by using it to escape from just punishment in a trial;  we are neither moral incompetents nor situational idiots, just different) . . . BUT . . .

. . from my own experience, drugs and being an outsider go together while never mixing, and you wind up driving off those who accept you as part of their world.

I'm kinda glad I never watched Letterman in those days.

THIS IS YOUR BRAIN ON DRUGS

"Rokudan" and Ravi Shankar

Two great tastes that sound great together!!

Fantastic News, and Bad News

Fantastic news first:

Lisa, at work, found a stray kitten.  Lisa's husband is allergic to cats, so, she had it given its shots, checked out, treated for a mild respiratory ailment, and . . . I have a new baby girl.  Her name is Katrina. 

The other cats had bullied the poor little thing, and Lisa and I were both concerned about how she and Katzie would get along.  My little gentleman came in, and, sure enough, she hissed, spat, growled.  Katzie responded by looking at me, looking at her, and, without a sound, left and went to the next room.  After about 45 minutes, he came back, same results, same response.  She hid.  He left her be, just occasionally coming to take a look, then leaving.  I resolved to live with uneasy truce, as long as no outright fighting started.  Saturday, lying in bed, I heard thudding and the sounds of quick-moving paws - Oh, crap . . . they're fighting was the thought.  A few minutes later, Katzie comes through like a streak, the closest equivalent to a manic grin I've seen on a cat, and Katrina bounding after, hell-for-leather.  A few moments later, Katrina comes through, Katzie chasing.  A few minutes after that, two cats climbed on top of me and went to sleep next to each other.  Since then, Katrina has alternated between following me around and following Katzie around.  I've not seen my boy so happy in a very long time.  It may be that Katrina looks much like Miutu, but somehow, I don't think so.

Bad news, I'm in a funk.  Not to say I'm not delighted with Katrina, but that I'm feeling very useless, very much alone, and very . . . pointless.  This is a far more dangerous state of mind for me than outright despair.  A brilliant mind (yes, I know, but I am very bright) locked up in a state of total social and ambitional (see, I just maded a word!) incapacity.  It is this that often makes me doubt God's goodness - why make someone like me.  It seems a taunt both to me and the world around me. 

Of course, a great deal of it is that I allow myself to believe the lie that money has worth, and, as I have none, I am worthless.  I could, I think, if I could just break through this autism-jammed brain, end that money economy and misplaced value - much to the regret of mediocre men whose only attribute is money, but, ultimately, to their greater fulfillment as the great men they could be.  It's infuriating to see, clearly, the society that could be, should be, and would be to the betterment of all . . . and be completely incapable of realizing it beyond words, and generalized words, at that.  It's the anger that I feel for these parasitic men, projected from my own anger at myself for being unable to help them change and see reality.

I hate it.  I hate me for it.  I hate God for it (at times). 

Definition of the Day (Apologies to Stephen King)

ARCHEPISCOPACY:  Low men in purple robes.

Depths of Sadness and Beauty

Wish I'd Known

Georgia Southern is very close to where I am, and I would've loved to have been there in person.  This is one of my favorite of John Williams' soundtrack pieces, extremely complex, and absolute Big Band.



The original:

Another For James

You asked me where it came from, and where I learned to say it.

Here ya go:

A Comment on Thinking Anglicans I Made

It was made on the fly, and, it is absolutely true.

I know, now, this really is how I feel.  I really don't have any reason to continue with church or its fellowship, outside of St. Pat's. 

Why should Jesus bother to come back to a world filled with such hate.



Every time I go off to be with friends and family, and God on my days off, I feel great and soaring hopes for humanity. I come back, see the remarks about gays and lesbians, about women, about liberals, see comment from such "christian" leaders as York and Williams, from supposed "brothers and sisters" here . . . and some part of me dies. Just dies.


I'm about 90% of the way to being able to say, "I believe in God and Jesus . . . and it's a pity He suffered on the Cross to no effect at all. Let us pray for a swift end to the failed experiment of this 'humanity.'"

Thanks to Grandmere Mimi

My Idea for Lent

MAKE THE RICH AND THEIR GOVERNMENT LACKIES VERY, VERY PENITENT.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

The Stage Version

Okay, I did NOT think that the Child Catcher could possibly be more nightmarish than the film. I was wrong: My favorite bit in the movie was the wunderbar song Chu-chi Face: Movie version, with the delightful Gert Frobe (Goldfinger) and Anna Quayle

HOWEVER, Marc Kudisch and Jan Maxwell give it a different take, and I especially love Jan Maxwell's Baroness Bomburst-as-played-by-Marlene-Dietrich. http://youtu.be/-GqwYG92tIE

Christopher Lee is the Awesome

They All Laughed at Me at the University

But it's a real musical.

Two of my favorites - Elijah's song and Queequeg's song.  Keep in mind, this ain't a serious adaptation, and the basis of the play is a girls' school putting on a production - so all parts are female, except the few played by the man playing the headmistress.

Artist's Impression of Peter Doll's Vision of the Anglican Communion

The Proper Response to the Wealthy and the Homophobic

You know, the folks who own us all . . .

Well . . . THAT Was Interesting

I just had a coughing fit - I'm getting over bronchitis (I hope) - and blacked out.  Went right down in the kitchen, and was out a few seconds. 

'Enery the Eighth, I am, I am

*Do not operate heavy machinery after viewing*

More History

*Note: there is some question as to whether Elagabalus was as monstrous as we've been told. The others seem to have been fairly well verified, but Elagabalus was a later emperor, deeply unpopular as a priest of a foreign religion, had the damnatio memoriae pronounced on him, and, from most accounts, what we would term transsexual (Romans didn't much care for emperors who wanted to be women), and, most Roman historians (e. g. Suetonius) were as balanced and scholarly as The National Enquirer - that said, enjoy*




And, of course, Dick Turpin, who, like Jesse James, was loved not wisely, but too well by the folktale tellers:



*Further note:  Okay, yes, mostly this is put up because Mat Baynton plays Elagabalus and Dick Turpin, but so what?  It's still great.  Fine, so he looks just like young Malcolm McDowell, and that's kinda damn pretty, right, but still . . . just enjoy*

Just Have Had It

See above. Byee.

For James

You often ask me about the lines of rulers for England. 

I hope this song will help . . . and it's not at all merely an excuse to put up a video with the delectable Mathew Baynton (Charles II in this).

Shamefaced

I am very late on this because of illness and the general lethargy going with it.

Please pop over to MadPriest's and give him condolences on the lost of his feline companion, Henry, after seventeen years.  Naturally, MadPriest is feeling very low, and blaming himself, though the vet care he provided and Henry's age was the equivalent of providing a round-the-clock nurse for an elderly family member in their last illness.  It is, as I noted there, a brutal loss.  Decent people become attached to the animals whose care and companionship they undertook, and that love - yes, it is love - becomes more, rather than less, through the years of the idiosyncrasies of animal behavior. 

A Tribute to Henry at OCICBW

Why Libertarianism and Tea Partiers Won't Work

Because they already failed. 

Victorian England was exactly what they are proposing, when you see Gingrich and Paul and Bachmann and Romneybot 5000. 

Here's how it actually worked - or actually didn't - since history is learning, thus discouraged by the state under the United States of Business Owners:

Most people don't know about the Poor Laws - reformed Poor Laws, actually - under the Victorian reign.  When I see a complete nincompoop who was able to buy an economics degree write a defense of Scrooge's business practices, and the very employment policies Dickens exposed as evil and destructive lauded, I realize how abysmally ignorant - no, stupid - the American public really is. 

When I was a child, I just knew Dickens was being OTT.  After all, we don't have places you can go to if you're unemployed and homeless and receive clothing, shelter and food.  It sounds really kind of the state.  No doubt, Ron Paul and the mindless hordes and the parasitic business owners feel the same. 

Now, what I know now is this:  Dickens was underplaying it. 

Oliver Twist's gruel, and no second bowl - absolutely accurate, except that much gruel would've been a luxury.  You see, it was decided by businessmen posing as concerned citizens that the previously fairly generous system of work houses and public assistance was being abused and savings made - and, more importantly, the taxes of the wealthy lowered - by reforming the Poor Laws. 

Under this reform, to discourage the indolent from sponging off the state ("I don't want my money going to taxes to feed lazy bums!"), conditions were required to be worse - yes worse - than the worst job found in England . . . not the region, mind you, but England.  Now, you might think that there were kind Workhouse Unions and charitable parishes that gave extra and made a better living condition in some workhouses.  That's because you're not paying attention.  Conditions were required to be worse - worse diet, worse clothing, worse working conditions, worse shelter.  It was against the law to make it better.  Think of some of the jobs in the Merrye Olde England of Victoria - yes, crossing sweeper, night-soil man, ragman, rat-catcher, match girl all count as official jobs - and how luxurious their conditions were, then . . . lower it.  That was what the law required - to, you know, keep those fat, lazy non-employer types from stealing the money of rich, upstanding, generous employer types through taxes, regardless, of course, of whether any jobs actually were available.  Now, yes, in truth, some did get slightly better conditions - because there were also laws governing the acceptable number of deaths and level of starvation and disease in workhouses, no doubt those wonderful capitalists' generosity and compassion again.  "Many would rather die than go there"  becomes less melodramatic and more understandable, and the response becomes more telling - the parasites that drive capitalism, the business owner and employer, only want just enough walking meat to be productive and make jobs scarce . . . the rest are surplus population.  Malthus would've been horrified to hear his views so used, as I believe Darwin, Marx and a good many others would be.

And here's the interesting part - England was not under absolute rule, had a representative (however limited) government, and this still went on.  Why?  Because everyone was told how lazy and cunning and unworthy the "so-called poor" were, and didn't bother to look any further.

Ah, Dickensian America.  What a vision, huh?
 

By the way:

Pluralist gets it.

One of the Best Lines Ever

Overheard in the game Fable II from some children playing outside the blacksmith's:

"I'm not complaining, but my Arrows of Disappointment weren't what I was expecting."