Cygnus' Sphere

Never Forget How Bad It Was

2012-01-09T14:33:00.000-08:00

As of when I'm posting this, 14 deluded souls "like" these hideous relics of post-VII "liturgical" music. But as Jeffrey Tucker says in Chant Cafe, we must not forget why we need Sacred Music in the liturgy. (I'll deal with him later for unearthing these.)

So cover your ears and have another taste of "We Really Used To Sing This." About time Ray Repp gets his just desserts as a Bad Liturgical Music Perpetrator:

When left up to us post-Baltimore Catechism Little Flower kids, we always chose "To Be Alive" as an opening song. Opening for a bluegrass concert, maybe.

What, Didn't The Sheet Music To "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" Arrive In Time?

2012-01-01T23:49:00.000-08:00

Bad enough: The choir at Immaculate Conception's 11:15 Mass today sang "Mary, Did You Know" for Offertory. Anita Moore explains better than I ever could why this song is completely inappropriate for Mass. "You mean the Immaculate Conception wasn't that of Jesus?"

Worse: After the Agnus Dei and the "Lord, I am not worthy," the instrumentalists (not the choir) played "Winter Wonderland" (!) for the distribution of the Eucharist, hence this post's title. I kept thinking of this, about a neighborhood near where I grew up.

Almost as bad: the lame music for the revised Mass parts, and the setting of the Gloria (with the old mistranslation) to "Angels We Have Heard On High." The Gloria is not, not, not a verse and refrain piece!

Come to the Table of Plent-Wii

2011-12-13T18:03:00.000-08:00

If you have a Nintendo Wii, put in the Wii Sports disc and choose "Training." Then choose any of the golf training games. The music that plays in the background sounds just like Dan Schutte's "Table of Plenty" . . . only slower and better. Of course, better than "Table of Plenty" isn't saying much!

Reno vs. Orlando

2011-07-09T09:50:00.000-07:00

So Orlando wants to build its own bowling stadium in an attempt to wrest away the U.S. Bowling Congress tournaments from Reno and its bowling stadium, pictured. Let's compare the two cities to see whose bowling stadium should rule.

Activities for kids/families
RENO: The arcades in the casinos, Wild Island
ORLANDO: Disney World/Epcot/Downtown Disney, Universal, Sea World
Advantage: Orlando

Trials that garnered national attention
RENO: James Biela
ORLANDO: Casey Anthony
Advantage: Push

Revenue sources
RENO: Casinos
ORLANDO: Toll roads
Advantage: Reno

People bet on . . .
RENO: Pro and college sports
ORLANDO:Jai-alai
Advantage: Reno

Economic problems
RENO: Collapse of tourism, construction, and gaming industries; foreclosures
ORLANDO: Collapse of tourism, construction, and space-related industries; foreclosures
Advantage: Push

Weather
RENO: Sunny most days, dry summers, snow in winter and spring
ORLANDO: Sunny, stormy, humid, hurricanes
Advantage: Reno

Sports teams
RENO: Nevada Wolf Pack, Reno Aces
ORLANDO: Orlando Magic, Grapefruit League
Advantage: Orlando

Undesirable visitors
RENO: Westboro Baptist Church
ORLANDO: KKK
Advantage: Push

Undesirable transplants
RENO: Californians
ORLANDO: Snowbirds
Advantage: Reno

Traffic
RENO: I-80 and Hwy 395
ORLANDO: I-4, Fla. Turnpike, toll roads
Advantage: Reno

Visitors arrive in the airport from . . .
RENO: Las Vegas, San Francisco, Salt Lake City
ORLANDO: Everywhere else
Advantage: Orlando

Natural wonders
RENO: Lake Tahoe, Sierra Nevada
ORLANDO: Wekiva Springs
Advantage: Reno

Seniors busy . . .
RENO: Playing bingo
ORLANDO: Driving to the 4 PM senior dinner specials
Advantage: Orlando

State known for . . .
RENO: Gambling, brothels, silver, gold, deserts, wild horses, Area 51, Harry Reid
ORLANDO: Disney, oranges, warm winters, space program, Super Bowls, Marco Rubio, hurricanes
Advantage: Push

You get to watch . . .
RENO: Burning Man
ORLANDO: Shuttle launches (until now)
Advantage: Orlando

Who would want to live there?
RENO: Fernley
ORLANDO: Celebration
Advantage: Reno

Strange residents
RENO: Brothel workers and exotic dancers
ORLANDO: Spiritualists and fortune tellers
Advantage: Reno

So Reno should keep the USBC, and in the words of Paul Taglia-Boo, Orlando should build a museum or something. QED.

My Cars

2011-07-04T22:30:00.000-07:00

My older brother introduced me to the British show "Top Gear" a couple months ago. I've never been a big gearhead, but I have enjoyed Jeremy Clarkson, Richard Hammond, and James May with their backhanded reviews of various vehicles, oddball challenges, and road tests by the enigmatic Stig as well as celebrities ("The Star in the Reasonably Priced Car"). I've also learned that, for the most part, American cars are garbage compared to European ones. It's a far more entertaining and informative show than MPT's stodgy "MotorWeek" in which John Davis says the same thing in the same overblown cadence week after week. By the way, check out the guys' visit to Reno a few years back.

So this got me thinking about my history of Cygmobiles, not that I can quite write about them in the style of Top Gear. I'll do it in my style and supply photos where possible/applicable; unless otherwise mentioned, these are photos I gleaned off the web.

1976 Chevy Nova (actual image)

(A screencap from an old family home video, and note my neighbor's AMC Pacer in the background!)

This came from the era in which GM simply forgot how to make cars, especially with all the new emissions regulations of the mid-70s. My folks bought this to replace the 1971 USS Chevy Impala; that thing was a battleship, with a black interior and exterior. Nice and hot on summer days, and running the A/C only hurt the 10 MPG more. But I digress, since I never even drove the Impala.

For a while, the two-door, split fold-down, straight-six Nova was the only car our family had (remember when all families had only one car?). Somehow, all eight of us fit in it a couple times, but that was when my brothers were quite small. Then my dad eventually got a Ford Escort, so I wound up driving this one a lot, especially in college. I more or less took it over as my own. It was a straight-6 engine that had decent pickup.

I took it on several road trips, once to Old Rag Mountain on Skyline Drive in Virginia, and then to Ocean City a time or two. One of those times, I drove the whole way and back with a busted leaf spring, and wondered what that grinding noise was. My dad had to rig up some kludgy contraption involving four jacks to repair it; he says that was the most difficult repair he ever made. Also, the handle to pull the driver's side door came off, so I had to jerry-rig part of a leather belt in its place to get it to close.

The most famous thing about this car was its lack of power anything . . . but especially steering. You could get an upper body workout just trying to parallel park it. The hood could also be opened from the outside, meaning one frigid night when I went to see Michael Hedges and Leo Kottke at the Meyerhoff in downtown Baltimore, I came out to find the battery stolen. I had to wake up my dad and get him to pick me up.

Having written so much on the Nova, I guess it means a lot to me.

1970 Dodge Dart

My aforementioned older brother (no, he's not Racer X, or even The Stig) entrusted this car to me when we went into the Air Force in 1984.

One of the fenders was replaced and still had writing in paint on it. Well, his trust was misplaced, as I forgot to check the oil every so often; I cared more about what was on the stereo. The engine seized up and died a couple months after he left. I wonder if he's ever forgiven me for it. A number of my relatives had Dodge Darts or Plymouth Valiants, pretty much the same thing. I earned my driver's license on my aunt's Dart.

1972 Chevy Chevelle

I didn't own this car, but got to drive it a bit when my parents bought it inexpensively from a neighbor of my grandfather. The hood was a bit rusted and the vinyl top dry-rotted, but the 307 V8 had gobs of power. It was huge and fun to drive . . . except when the plug wires didn't work and the engine kept stalling. Like the Impala, this was not a car to buy for its gas mileage, but if I had had the inkling/talent, it could have been worth restoring.

1986 Chevy Celebrity

This was the first car I bought for myself; it had been a company fleet car. It only lasted me three years, however. I took it on a few long trips, such as to my older brother's wedding in Maine (my sister had to drive or else she'd get carsick, and we argued about almost everything all the way up and back); a wedding in Ann Arbor, Michigan; and the fateful vacation in Cape Hatteras where Ladycub and I first became an item. It had a 4-cylinder 2.2 engine, and I found the oil rather difficult to change on it because of the engine being mounted sideways. Under the hood was far more crammed with stuff than either the Nova or the Chevelle, whose engines were bigger.

Although it was a good-sized 4-door vehicle with wide seats, it really goes down as one of Chevy's poorest efforts. It seemed they wanted to make either an oversized Citation (another loser for the Bow Tie) or an undersized Caprice, and came up with neither. The beginning of the end came when it broke down on Route 30 near Lancaster, PA; I believe it ended up having head/valve problems.

1990 Plymouth Acclaim (actual photo)

"Happy the people who learn to Acclaim me." The first car I bought from a dealer, and hence the first time I learned about the old salesman "Let me talk to my manager" ploy. The Acclaim was a successor to the Reliant and other K-cars of the bailed-out Chrysler-Plymouth (history repeats itself). It apparently had been a rental vehicle.

This sedan (or "saloon," as the Top Gear guys call it) was nothing spectacular, but it was still roomy. And it was my first vehicle to have cruise control. It lasted me about four years until the engine decided it had had enough. Also, I had Loyola High tags on this and my next couple vehicles.

Here's a shot of me digging out the Acclaim after the January 1996 blizzard. Speaking of which, I drove it up to Rochester, NY and back twice. Once was in January 1994 between two blizzards.

1991 Dodge Spirit (actual photo, right, next to LC's long-lasting 1990 Geo Prizm)

Like the Dart and the Valiant above, the Spirit was almost a carbon copy of the Acclaim.I bought it from a fellow employee. It had a little more mileage than the Acclaim, and lasted about the same amount of time, four years. Guess I need a car every Presidential administration. I still remember when it threw a rod in Annapolis, and I was barely able to limp back to the house.

1998 Chevy Malibu

I'm shocked I can't find my own picture of this one. It was the first and probably only car we've ever bought brand new, thanks to credits from a credit card. We got it from Anderson Chevrolet with the help of a buying service, There's something about that New Car Smell. There's also something about the immediate depreciation once you drive it off the lot, and the gas mileage was so-so.

But it was a fun car to drive, with plenty of room, a great stereo, a smooth ride, and good power. It felt more like a car you wanted to be seen in . . . which isn't why we bought it. Sandy and I took turns driving it. It lasted us nearly seven years, until it gave up the ghost on the side of I-70 as we were heading to (ironically enough) my uncle's funeral.

1996 Saturn

This was a fortuitous purchase after the Spirit died. I bought it from my next-door neighbor, who was trading up for another Saturn. This car was disappointing; it required a lot of work and died in 2003 after barely three years of use. It was also smaller than anything else I'd driven, handled roughly, and wasn't that comfortable. But I guess I got my money's worth out of it: when I first started working in radio in 2002, I put 20K miles on it in six months . . . not that that anything to do with its demise.

This may have been my last GM car ever.

2000 Ford Focus Wagon

This was one of my favorites, and so far has been the only vehicle I've had that has cracked the 200K odometer barrier. That means we put 170K miles on it . . . in just five years, and 50K in just the 18 months prior to 200K. That happens when the average commute to work is 100 miles round trip, between the two of us.

I never felt like I was driving a wagon, and being married, I no longer had to worry about whether it turned women off (a former roommate had a Cavalier wagon, and he figured that was his chick repellent). It handled great (even in snow), got close to 30 MPG, and could carry all sorts of junk. Not that we used it, but it also had a roof rack.

On the downside, we did have to put a good bit of work into it, figuring that was still cheaper than a car payment. Do a search in this blog under "Cygmobile" for some of those stories. It was still running when we left to move out West, but we opted not to take it with us, although we toyed with the idea of driving it across the country for the trip.

2001 Toyota Corolla (current, actual photo)

The Top Gear guys described the Corolla as "bulletproof," and I'm not going to argue. I have a feeling this thing is also going to reach 200K miles. This was my first purchase off Craigslist, and the character I bought it from was kind of shadowy. But I knew a Corolla would be rugged.

I'm not all that sure why I like it. It's not the most comfortable car I've ever driven. If it weren't for power steering, nothing would be power in it (see the Nova above). Speaking of power, it's a challenge to get up I-80 into the Sierra in it. The ride is rough and loud, and the concrete interstates out here don't help things much. And I really lament the fact it doesn't have cruise control; it makes the drive to the Bay Area painful for my right foot.

I have had to put some money into this car, but mainly for things that wear out after 100K miles, such as the timing belt, the serpentine belt (you do not want it to break on you in the wilds of Nevada), and the catalytic converter (That? Was pricey). And I did have to replace one of the headlight lenses and the two windshield washer fluid nozzles.

But I like the Corolla's reliability. In nearly three years, I haven't had any breakdowns, and it gets 30 MPG or more. And since most of my driving is right around town (I average maybe 10K miles a year), it's fine for that purpose. It handles OK in the snow, although I haven't chained it up for a winter trip over the Sierra yet.

And unlike American cars, I like being in a vehicle that doesn't feel like it has to go to the shop every couple months. It's not being held together with duct tape and superglue. Nice to have some peace of mind about my ride.

How To Be A Good Lector

2011-05-17T15:12:00.000-07:00

Ever since I was a little kid, I always wanted to be a lector at Mass. I consider it an honor and a privilege to proclaim God's Word, and it uses the talents God gave me. I credit my father for inspiring me in this calling; he's been a lector for decades, and one Holy Thursday, we lectored together.

I admit, however, that I went through a time of getting melodramatic with the readings, and it was rightly brought to my attention. I was turning into more of a performer than a proclaimer, and that takes away from the impact of the Word . . . and puts the spotlight on me. (That's also why I'm a Recovering Worship Leader.) Now, I try to provide emphasis, but not too much.

Some general pet peeves I have about lectors:

Reading too fast. What plane do you have to catch? This is the Word of the Lord, not one of my two-minute newscasts. There is no need to rush it. If you do, you all but guarantee the congregants will not take away the meaning of what you just read . . . even if they're reading along in their missals. The only lectors who read too slowly are kids, who generally read a word at a time, punctuation be damned. Also in this category is rushing right from one reading to the next, or into the Psalm, but that may be more a function of what the priest or the Liturgy Committee wants. Ten seconds between readings bowed in prayer never killed anyone.
Being unprepared. Now I concede that you may be filling in at the last minute, but I bet more often than not, if you're stumbling over a reading, you simply haven't read it before going on the altar. It doesn't take a long time to prepare, maybe only half an hour or so. Read the context of the reading in the Bible, so you know how to approach it. Find out how to pronounce those tough names. And if you're on the lector roster, it doesn't hurt to look over the readings even if it's not your week, so that in an emergency, you don't sound like you just got pressed into service.
Reading as if it were the phone book. If your name isn't James Earl Jones or Ross Mitchell, this approach won't work. As I mentioned above, too much drama isn't a good thing, but neither is complete emotional detachment. This and reading too fast are why teenagers, for the most part, make lousy lectors. Preparation will help prevent this.
No eye contact. Another corollary of being unprepared. You should be able to lift your head from the text every so often and make eye contact with the congregation. Now, the priest doesn't do this as often on the altar because his prayers are to God and not to the people (don't get me started on ad orientem vs. versus populum).

My Father-In-Law

2011-04-21T01:34:00.000-07:00

My father-in-law died late last night.

His role in my life began in 1993, when he made the decision to take early retirement from Westinghouse (now Northrup Grumman). I had already dated his daughter once a few years earlier. One ex-girlfriend and a few other what-might-have-beens later, Sandy and I were rebuilding our friendship. Anyway, he and my mother-in-law opted to take the early out money and move to Reno, Nevada. We stopped over their house as they were holding a yard sale at their old Catonsville house; I got hold of a desk of theirs. One of the catalysts for my relationship with Sandy was her invitation to come visit them with her after they'd moved.

When we visited them, I found out he didn't mind throwing down a buck or two at the casinos, although he stuck mainly with slots and video poker: I don't remember him playing many table games. He also showed us that many of the casinos had great restaurant deals, and the first place he took us was the steakhouse at Western Village in Sparks. We would visit him and my MIL in Reno several times over the years.

My FIL was always a pithy man. He and my MIL took many trips Back East to see family and for their own sake; their typical itinerary involved Baltimore, Atlantic City, Ocean City, and Lancaster County, PA. He loved going to Jennings Restaurant in Catonsville for chicken, and G&M's in Linthicum for crab cakes. We met them once at Willow Valley Resort outside Lancaster, and that was when I asked him for his permission to marry Sandy. His response was, "Well, I don't see why not; you two are mature adults . . . Hey, what do you think about the Notre Dame game this afternoon?"

At the wedding, I practically had to make him give me a hug after he walked Sandy up the aisle. At the reception, MIL told us via the videographer, "And I hope you have lots and lots of grandchildren!" He replied, "Shouldn't they have children first?"

We enjoyed taking walks together, usually just around the neighborhood or a nearby lake. And we would talk about mostly sports or politics, nothing too deep (as if the Willow Valley conversation wasn't an indication of that). And he surprised us all by taking us to Hawaii in 2005; it was a surprise 45th anniversary present for my MIL, and as an added surprise, he brought us along. We treated it as an early 10th anniversary trip.

In early 2008, we decided to move to Nevada. Almost immediately afterward, we found out he had colorectal cancer, which made our moving out here all the more necessary. Sandy is their only child. The four of us dined together frequently, and we also took them to a Reno Aces baseball game.

His condition steadily worsened over the last month. Just under two weeks ago, as he began hospice care, we managed to take him and MIL to the Western Village steakhouse . . . the same place he'd taken us back in 1993.

That was the last time I saw him alive. Now I pray for the repose of his soul.

In paradisum deducant te Angeli; in tuo adventu suscipiant te martyres, et perducant te in civitatem sanctam Ierusalem. Chorus angelorum te suscipiat, et cum Lazaro quondam paupere æternam habeas requiem.

On the Crab

2011-04-18T22:06:00.000-07:00

Sandy and I haven't had cable TV for several years now. I really haven't minded not having it, although there are a few nuggets worth watching that you can't find on over-the-air TV.

One of those is the Discovery show "Deadliest Catch," which I first saw when I was in the hospital back in 2007. I found it rather interesting, but didn't make a big deal out of it. Then last year, one of the local stations started showing reruns. Sandy and I have become, as it were, hooked. Now that we have Netflix, we've been "catch"-ing up with the previous seasons.

One of the things I scratch my head about is why I like this show. I hate fishing. I'm not that comfortable on the water. I'd make a hideous "greenhorn." Besides the fact that I'm woefully out of shape, talk to me sometime when I'm sleep deprived and you'll see what I mean.

I guess it's the various elements of drama: fighting the waves and the ice, dealing with mechanical problems and injuries (not to mention the ever-present threat of death), personality clashes (but I'm glad it's not all about the personality clashes, or else it would be like that reality TV wasteland known as MTV), and never knowing if the crab pot is full until it breaks the surface. And a lot of men can make a lot of money in a little time . . . if they don't mind going through a frozen hell to get it.

So far, it seems the captains aren't letting their new-found fame get to their heads . . . too much, although a contract dispute nearly cost the show the Hillstrand brothers and Sig Hansen, arguably the signature personalities. Then again, the show's gotten so big, it's spawned a convention called "CatchCon."

Now if only they fished Maryland blue crab. Mmmmmm.

The Eyes Of Fallon Are Upon You

2011-04-09T12:20:00.000-07:00

In July of 2009, Sandy and I took a ride one Friday afternoon to the areas east of Reno and Sparks. We started by heading up to picturesque Pyramid Lake, so picturesque Apple used a nighttime picture of it for its iPad background. We still need to spend a day up there; the air and water are warmer than Lake Tahoe.

Then we drove south to Fernley, which had been devastated the year before by a canal rupture that caused a major flood. It had been one of the fastest-growing areas in the nation. Now, it's home of the highest unemployment rate in the state. Then we turned east for Fallon.

One purpose of the ride was for Sandy to show me Naval Air Station Fallon, home of the "Top Gun" aircraft. We got as close as we could to the base as ordinary civilians could.

It was getting toward dinner time, so we headed into Fallon, looking for someplace to eat. One barometer we've often used when being in an unfamiliar place: go where it's crowded. We noticed a lot of people outside this place called the Pizza Barn. The owner talks about it here, and we found it hard to argue with him. It's great pizza, and the decor is quite unique. Over the bar is a sign that says "Free Beer Tomorrow."

But as we ate our pizza, we felt like we had eyes burning through us. Not only (as the owner said) are the workers a tightly knit bunch, so is the town of Fallon as a whole. I guess something about us recent Maryland transplants said "Not From Around Here" like a neon sign. I figured with the NAS, Fallon residents are used to seeing new faces. Maybe not.

We drove back through the canyons between Fernley and Sparks on I-80 back home. I wouldn't mind getting that pizza again, but I hope we wouldn't garner so many stares.

A Techie Issue

2011-04-09T11:22:00.000-07:00

I just upgraded to Windows 7, and it took me more than a week to successfully install my wireless USB adapter. I post what I found in case anyone else has the same issue.

The Netgear WG111V3 G54 wireless adapter is compatible with Windows 7, but it doesn't take too kindly to ZoneAlarm (firewall). So I uninstalled ZoneAlarm, installed the adapter, and reinstalled ZoneAlarm, and now everything's OK.

The St. Louis Jesuits and What's Now Called Liturgical Music

2011-01-01T23:37:00.000-08:00

Never mind "We Really Used To Sing This": chances are your nearest Catholic parish STILL sings "Earthen Vessels," "You Are Near," "Only This I Want," "Be Not Afraid," and more by the St. Louis Jesuits. LC has their best-selling album Earthen Vessels. And without them, the pervasive Glory and Praise hymnal simply would not exist.

In "The Mystery of the St. Louis Jesuits," the indispensable Jeffrey Tucker reviews a book that came out in 2006 called The St. Louis Jesuits: Thirty Years, edited by Mike Gale. Some comments:

The St. Louis Jesuits have indeed succeeded in transforming the sound and shape of Catholic liturgy, so much so that the authentic sound of Catholicism has been largely relegated to the land of CDs and specialized liturgical settings. [Then later Tucker adds:] What was once the “folk Mass” in the typical parish became the family Mass and, finally, the only manner of celebrating Mass. [How many guitars do you find at a Lutheran service, for example?]

You might almost forget that we are speaking here of the simple, well-worn, and recognizably popular melodies, written in that pseudo-folk style of the period, that have achieved ubiquity in millions of parishes, and can be (and usually is) sung and played by people (usually on guitar) with little or no formal training in music. [Fr. Z has written much about the implementation of Vatican II versus what the documents really said, including Chapter VI of Sancrosanctum Consilium: "Composers and singers, especially boys, must also be given a genuine liturgical training. The Church acknowledges Gregorian chant as specially suited to the Roman liturgy: therefore, other things being equal, it should be given pride of place in liturgical services." How many of us raised post-Baltimore Catechism even know of this? According to the book, only John Foley has formal musical training of any sort.]

Their first venue was the campus liturgy at the College Church and the Jesuit House of Studies. As Foley, who could play piano but learned guitar in seminary, says “Just at the time, the guitar started to be allowed in the new liturgy. I thought ‘well, they need music, so let’s go.’ ” Indeed, at every step they were encouraged by their superiors to bring the music that they thought of as popular song into Mass. Says Schutte: “I never would have continued these stumbling attempts at music had it not been for the encouragement of my Jesuit peers and superiors.” Hence, they were not seminary’s equivalent of campus rebels. They were cultivated and promoted and encouraged by their teachers and superiors. [I have often wondered how much of this revamping of liturgical music was really a grassroots movement and how much was brought on by a restive bunch of USCCB types who'd had enough of all that Sancro-whatever.]

For decades, Catholics have been fed a very restrictive diet of music [which I suspect is the same complaint supporters of said music say toward chant and polyphony], and it will take time to broaden people’s understanding of what music at liturgy can and should be [not the least of which is trashing this whole idea of The People Run The Mass Because VII Said So]. Certainly, there must be transitional measures that include vernacular plainsong and new polyphony. Truly sacred music does have advantages in this struggle. It is the music of the Church and not some interloping foreign voice. It is inspired and true. It demands more of the singer and listener, which means that people are going to be called to a higher sense, and challenged to achieve it. It demands humility and deference to truths we cannot always entirely understand. It calls forth a radical change in our liturgical sensibility. It will be as new to this generation as the music of the St. Louis Jesuits was to the generation coming of age a third of a century ago. ["But it's too HAAAARRD!" the Bishop Trautmans and the readers of the Baltimore Catholic Review will say (nod to Fr. Z). I say, take a look at your parish's empty pews and ask yourself: How's that working out for you? Wasn't the dumbing down of the liturgy and the introduction of "folk" music supposed to bring MORE people to the Church?]

I'll cheer loudly when every last Glory and Praise is tossed in a nice big bonfire.

Amy Grant, Be Far Away From Me

2010-12-18T20:10:00.000-08:00

Not long ago, Mike Keeton and I had another one of our impassioned discussions, this one about Amy Grant. Normally, I don't focus much on the lives of music/Hollywood stars, but Grant unfortunately led a life of being such a billboard for the Christian way of life . . . and then decided to say, "Do as I sing and not as I do" in her personal life.

In Lamb of God days, Amy Grant was all but required listening. The community would have a frequent "coffeehouse" on Saturday nights, and the woman who started it off would almost always sing a Karaoke version of Grant's "Angels" with its false ending, "Stay For Awhile", or something else. Grant definitely made LOG's unwritten list of approved music for personal listening. (Aside: I got hold of a Patrick O'Hearn tape and was playing it in one of the households in which I was living. The guy who "ran" the house asked me what that music was, and whether it was Christian. I replied, "Does it have to be?" He didn't answer.)

I had bought Grant's 1987 release Lead Me On, and enjoyed it, mainly because most of the songs had good instrumentation on them. Of course, I wanted to be a Good Boy and do what was right. So, apparently, did Grant, with lyrics like these from "Faithless Heart":

At times the woman deep inside me
Wanders far from home,
And in my mind I live a life
That chills me to the bone.
A heart, running for arms out of reach,
But who is the stranger my longing seeks?
I don't know.
But it scares me through and through,
'Cause I've a man at home
Who needs me to be true.
Oh, faithless heart,
Be far away from me.
Playing games inside my head
That no one else can see.
Oh, faithless heart,
You tempt me to the core,
But you can't have a hold on me,
So don't come around anymore.

Grant co-wrote that with Michael W. Smith, and the song was apparently more autobiographical than it appeared, as she was apparently fighting off feelings for him. She succeeded there, but didn't hold out for much longer.

Yesterday, while waiting for an MRI, I saw there was a copy of Good Housekeeping with a cover article on Grant and Vince Gill. Now I certainly don't make a habit of reading GH, but I wanted to see what they had to say about how they left their respective spouses for each other. According to the GH article (emphasis mine):

When their paths crossed in 1993, both were married (Gill to country singer Janis Oliver; Grant to Christian musician Gary Chapman) with children. They met at a taping for Gill's Christmas TV special, on which Grant was a guest performer. "The connection there [between us], that was kind of rare," Gill told Larry King in 2003. "The hang was easy. The conversation was easy." The Christmas shows became a yearly collaboration, and the backdrop for a growing friendship. "November would roll around and I'd go, Hey, we're doing that Christmas show again," Grant told King. "In my mind, I justified it: He can be my friend."

Though they have always maintained that there was no infidelity (during Gill's divorce, he and Grant were reportedly prepared to sign affidavits saying so), there was no hiding their emotional connection, both onstage and offstage. Gossip columnists noticed it; so did both of their spouses. Gill's ex-wife, Janis, reportedly told her sister that she initially tolerated the close friendship he struck up with Grant. But, Janis said, when she found a handwritten note from Grant saying, "I love you...Amy," in her husband's golf bag, she unsuccessfully asked Gill to cut his ties with Grant.

In 1997, the Gills divorced. "There was never like a magic plan — 'I'm going to go do this, and a couple years later, you [Amy] go do this,'" Gill told King. "I got a divorce, and said, Well, I think she'll probably stay [in her marriage]. I really did."

Grant, who learned of Gill's divorce by reading about it in the newspaper, was in the midst of her own marital woes. "The real pain of it is trying to take the high road," Grant told King. "But when you have such an easy rapport with another person, what it really does is it highlights where you don't have as easy a rapport."

Now, I readily admit Grant is hardly the first to go through this sort of thing. Recall, for example, how Billy Joel wrote "Just The Way You Are" for his first wife, and then "Uptown Girl" for Christie Brinkley, and has divorced and remarried since. But Joel never asserted Christian virtues through his music, either. Also, I can't vote for Senator John Ensign, a champion of social conservatism who allowed himself to fall into emotional, then sexual infidelity. That's a breach of trust. But not many people are giving Ensign the pass that has inexplicably been afforded to Grant.

Grant was absolutely right back in 1987 to write about emotional infidelity; it can ruin marriages so easily, and perhaps more so than sexual infidelity. But her subsequent wilting into the arms of Gill just makes her all the more a hypocrite:

There were four kids in tow — Gill's daughter, Jenny, then 17; and Grant's three children, Matthew, Millie, and Sarah, who ranged in age from 12 to 7. "It was a long haul to feel like a family again," says Grant. "The parents have made a choice, but none of the kids have made the choice. And wherever it's going to wind up, you're not going to get there quickly. You just have to give people their space."

Translation: Deal with it, kids. Our libido is what's really important, not giving you anything like a stable family.

And here's the final selfish insult:

Today, she speaks thoughtfully and evenly about the media firestorm that swirled around her in those days. As pundits weighed in on the sanctity of marriage, Grant recalls, she had starker worries. "I don't mean this in a flippant way, but I was so unconcerned by what somebody who I would never meet wrote in a rag," she says. "I felt like I had flipped a car over three medians and I was trying to figure out if my children — if we all — still had a pulse. I could not imagine going through life not by Vince's side. [Then I'd] hear people saying, 'I heard so-and-so say they're not playing your records anymore.' I had to trust that eventually everything was going to be OK."

What arrogance to make herself out to be a victim. It was Grant and not ex-husband Gary Chapman who made the decision to leave. It was a conscious decision to go against her marital vows and bring upheval into the life of her children. And it's a lousy witness to a world in which marriage becomes more meaningless by the day.

Love is not a feeling. Love is a decision. My parents have been married for 51 years, and my in-laws for 50. They've done it not based on their feelings, but on the seriousness of their commitment to each other. They loved each other even when they Didn't Always Feel Like It, and they didn't seek out relationships that were New, Better, and Different. They avoided the near occasions of sin.

"Nature . . . is what we are put in this world to rise above." --Rose, The African Queen

So Long, Old House

2010-12-14T17:35:00.000-08:00

As I write, my mom and dad are "camping out" in their new home, a condo in Ellicott City, MD. They have installed a phone line, but they can't yet unpack because the condo -- a short sale -- hasn't been settled on yet.

I guess it still hasn't hit me that I won't be seeing the old house or neighborhood in Baltimore anytime soon. I paid a last visit in October to the house . . . and, of course, to Mom and Dad, which I certainly hope won't be my last visit to them!

Now this is neither the house nor the neighborhood I grew up in. The six of us (excluding my two older siblings) moved to Westgate-Ten Hills in West Baltimore in 1984 from Belair-Edison in East Baltimore to be closer to members of the Lamb of God Community. I have written extensively on this blog (although not extensively enough) about the problems with LOG, but residents were actually glad we LOG members were there, as our increased presence stabilized the neighborhood and helped bolster property values for many years.

Although not a huge house, it had a lot of character, and even more so after Mom and Dad used massive amounts of elbow grease to strip and stain the woodwork. I remember helping Dad build what would be my basement bedroom for four years, although we would later learn it was illegal because there was no way to get outside other than the stairs. I know I would never have gotten through the small transom-type windows, and that was when I weighed a lot less than I do now! The bathroom underneath the front porch had a shower, but it was always susceptible to mold and eventually wasn't used. The hot water faucet on the sink never worked. When it rained any appreciable amount, the bathroom would flood; before the remnants of Hurricane Gloria passed through in 1985, we just picked up the carpet in advance.

I cannot count how many times I hit my head on the basement ceiling as I came up the stairs toward the kitchen. Otherwise, I might be 6'2" today.

I recall many a summer afternoon on the side porch falling asleep on our old wood-frame sofa while watching baseball or golf. The azaleas around the porch were especially colorful in spring.

I was the lawn mower during my time at the house, as my brothers weren't yet big enough to do so. The yard was a decent but manageable size, but what I had to watch out for was underground bee hives. I can't count how many times I got stung in the leg or ankle as a result.

The only thing I didn't like about the kitchen was its size; it was a mob scene when we were all trying to clean up after a family dinner. That's when we guys would sneak out and watch football.

We had a huge attic that was perfect for storing all sorts of stuff, although negotiating it up the foldaway stairs wasn't easy. That's where my old varsity jacket, my bowling trophies, and 8mm movies resided for many years, even after I moved out. Many of those movies were of the "magic act" variety, inspired by my cousin Steve who did those with his high school friends long before video cameras were commonplace.

I'm surprised my mom and dad were able to negotiate the stairs for as long as they did; they were quite steep. They won't have to worry about that now in their new condo.

I only lived there for four years before moving out on my own, but it was the site of many family dinners for birthdays and holidays. Thanks for the memories.

My Favorite Things

2010-11-04T23:07:00.000-07:00

From the indispensable Fr. Z and with apologies to R&H:

Dalmatics on deacons and cassocks on priests,
habits on nuns and immovable feasts,
bishops in soutanes with big, gaudy rings -
these are a few of my favorite things.

Devotions to Mary, novenas and stations,
fasting and penance on Days of Rogation,
High Mass and Low Mass and papal blessings –
these are a few of my favorite things.

Rosaries and incense and fiddleback vestments,
BINGO on Mondays with homemade refreshments,
statues of angels with halos and wings –
these are a few of my favorite things.

When RENEW strikes! [1]
When the rail’s gone!
When I’m feeling sad,
I simply pop into a Solemn High Mass
and then I don’t feel so baaaaaad!

[1] Or, "Why Catholic?", the worst. apologetics course. ever.

Negative Campaigning

2010-10-20T16:49:00.000-07:00

"Sharron Angle would force rape victims to have the baby"
--Harry Reid campaign ad

"Harry Reid wants to kill innocent babies"
--A surprisingly nonexistent Sharron Angle campaign ad

Let's All Concelebrate, Shall We?

2010-09-10T20:14:00.000-07:00

From Northern Nevada Catholic comes this disquieting piece of liturgical abuse from a place that ought to know, Our Lady of the Snows (emphasis added):

This year the seventh grade received a gift from the religious in our community. Clearly, they stand firmly as guideposts of the Catholic faith. Father Tony, our pastor, and Father Mike, our associate pastor, make attending school Masses relevant through their authentic connection with the students. Students eagerly await the Masses over which Monsignor Leo McFadden presides, hoping to be the ones to hear their magic number called which allows them the honor of sitting around Monsignor at the altar.

"Authentic connection"? How about some "authentic liturgy"? How about some awe, respect, and reverence for the Blessed Sacrament? No one belongs on the altar but the priests and the altar ~~boys~~ girls.

Basil the LOLCat

2010-08-19T22:23:00.000-07:00

Cygnus vs. The Cartoon Laws Of Physics

2010-08-15T22:06:00.000-07:00

I'll probably remember many incidents like this, and I've already listed a few in "Learn From My Fail."

While watching America's Funniest Home Videos, I saw a girl in a bathroom misjudge where the sink was and bang her head on the counter. Well, I can't laugh too loudly.

In January 1992, I had just moved in with the last roommates I would have before my wife. My old roommate Pat had bought a house and needed help with the mortgage, so two of us occupied his two other bedrooms. I would move out only five months later into my own apartment as Pat and I had a friendly parting of the ways, nothing like what you see on Judge Judy. In short, I felt like I couldn't live as I wanted there, and he suggested I might be better off in my own place. He was right.

Anyway, I had just moved in, and as part of the deal, Eric, the other roommate, was helping Pat repaint the bathroom. I did my share by cleaning up after them; besides, I wanted to take a bath. So I was cleaning the bathtub. At one point, I was trying to get the dirt at the bottom of the bathtub on the side closest to me. To reach it, I had one arm all the way down, and the other arm was supporting my weight on the side of the tub.

That was the arm that slipped.

All of a sudden, everything went in slow motion. I felt like Wile E. Coyote obeying the Cartoon Laws of Physics, especially the one that says gravity only takes hold when the character realizes it. From that point, it seemed to take about five seconds for my forehead to plow straight into the side of the tub. I knew it was going to happen, but I also knew I couldn't do anything to stop it; neither arm was braced to do so.

I'm glad to have escaped with a welt on my head and a slight headache. I guess being hard headed has its advantages.

And I still do all the bathroom cleaning.

We Really Used To Sing This, Exhibit 2

2010-08-13T15:39:00.000-07:00

Perpetrated (again) by Tom Parker, 1968 (also responsible for Exhibit 1)

Come Before The Table

REFRAIN: Come before the table of the Lord of hosts with all your lives in your hands. (How many people's lives do I have to carry in MY hands? Hope the table is big enough!)

(Like with the other song, Parker tends to cram too many words into certain lines, here the third line of each verse.)

1. Come now with hope and with gladness
Friends of the risen Christ all signed with his name
We've heard [H]is word and we know that it's joyful news (Parker may have capitalized the pronouns for the Almighty; it just doesn't appear that way in the copy I have.)
Now let us all draw near to share in [H]is food. (How Parker, Miffleton, the St. Louis Jesuits, Haugen/Haas, et al. got this whole idea from Vatican II that the Eucharist was nothing more that "sharing a meal" is a mystery to me. But a lot more Catholics born after VII got that idea than that of the Sacrifice of the Mass. Small wonder nearly 2/3 of Catholics (!) do not believe the Eucharist is the Real Presence of Jesus. I blame lyrics like these in part.)

2. Come then and sing with your neighbors (Even if they're not Catholic?)
Men near and far all share your hope and your song
Song for the Son of God [W]ho lives in our midst today
Hope in the Lord [W]ho can save all men. (Okay, I know the anti-sexism revisions didn't start until the late 70s/early 80s. I can sort of see the point of getting rid of references like that. What went too far was removing all references to God the Father as male. And even in "Be Not Afraid" by Bob Dufford, the lyrics don't even say "wicked men" anymore. Sheesh. Also, is Parker saying the song -- his song -- is more important than the Eucharist? For more such self-referentialism, see Haugen's "Gather Us In.")

3. Come then and bring [H]im your dancing (Not during the Liturgy, thank you.)
Music and laughter and love, songs of love (What, is this a Bacchanalia?)
Your Lord is glad when his people are filled with joy (only then?)
Your Father smiles when his sons are in love. (But He cries when He hears music like this.)

4. Come then and bring [H]im your sorrows
Life is a road clogged with trouble and pain (Ever think of trying Liquid-Plumr?)
Jesus was man, man [W]ho died but Lord [W]ho rose again (No. Re-read the first chapter of John's Gospel. This line implies Jesus wasn't divine until His Resurrection, which is heresy.)
Join in [H]is saving meal and hope in [H]is name. (Again, no Sacrifice of the Mass.)

5. Come then and sing [H]im your love songs (John Wimber, front and center!)
Life without loving is a land without rain (Oooo-kayyyy . . .)
God sent [H]is son so [H]is children could love with joy (This whole verse reeks of the spirit of 1968.)
God rained [H]is blood so love might spring from the earth. (Oh, really? I'll allow artistic license for the "rained His blood" part, but that's hardly the only reason. Now if you'll pass me my tie-dye shirt . . .)

6. Come then with food for [H]is table
Bread for [H]is banquet and wine for [H]is guests
Our Lord will share with us this food blessed by victory
Joined in this human meal we touch our God. (On one hand, this is the least objectionable verse, but still, it so minimizes the Eucharist, leading the people to think it's nothing more than a Really Nice Dinner. The Sacrifice may employ human bread and wine, but they are transsubstantiated into the Body and Blood during the Eucharistic Prayer. I bet Parker could have worked "transsubstantiation" into a line if he'd wanted to.)

7. (whew . . . seven?) Come then and learn how to praise [H]im (But not through songs like this!)
Hear what your [F]ather did to make us live ("Make us live"? What does Parker mean by that?)
He sent [H]is only [S]on to teach us to come to [H]im (Yes, and . . . ?)
Surely it's right for us to join in [H]is praise. (Yes, dignum et justum est. And don't call me Shirley.)

Remember When . . .

2010-08-07T11:44:00.000-07:00

(another pseudo-tribute to the Czabe)

. . . guys actually dressed as well as the girls did when going on dates, unlike now when the girls still doll themselves up, but the guys look like they just rolled out of bed, or out of a hip-hop video?

. . . MTV showed music videos?

. . . the only people who had tattoos were those who had served in the military?

. . . outside a pool or beach, you never saw another woman's navel?

. . . a boombox was something you carried on your shoulder?

. . . scoreboards at ball games didn't have to prompt you to make noise?

. . . baseball players didn't have "walk-up music"?

. . . Saturday morning cartoons were neither educational nor informational (E/I)?

. . . cars had cassette tape decks?

. . . writers would proofread their work, or had someone do it for them? (Being a blogger apparently means never having to edit.)

. . . TV coverage of sports events didn't include little music videos when coming back from a commercial?

. . . the "collision avoidance light" in car rear windows was a Big Deal?

. . . David Letterman was fresh and funny? (Now he's just "fresh," iykwim.)

. . . local TV stations had their own programming that wasn't news related, and no one knew what an "info-mercial" was?

. . . your radio or TV had to "warm up"?

. . . Benny Hill pushed the boundaries of good taste? (He looks quaint today by comparison.)

. . . cable TV meant having a rotary knob on a remote that was hard-wired to the TV?

. . . rock radio stations played Tears for Fears, Phil Collins, Prince, and other artists they'd never touch today?

. . . "Beautiful music" was the dominant radio format?

. . . newspapers printed morning and evening editions?

. . . kids delivered newspapers?

. . . kids could ride their bikes for miles from their neighborhood, and no one worried?

. . . video game arcades sprung up on many street corners, then disappeared just as quickly?

. . . (speaking of which) the Atari 2600 was the state of the art in video games?

. . . a whole family could fit in a sedan instead of a minivan or SUV?

. . . you could spend a whole day exploring a department store, or the stores on The Avenue?

. . . you had to go to the library to do research?

. . . photocopies were smelly and had smears all over them?

. . . you could get soft pretzels at school?

. . . it was a treat to get sliced cheese, ham, or baloney from the corner store?

. . . baseball cards were flipped, traded, and put between spokes of bike wheels?

Las Vegas July 2010 Trip Report

2010-07-13T18:28:00.000-07:00

Although Las Vegas wasn’t our first choice for going on vacation, we couldn’t pass up the room rates at the Orleans. Located off the Strip, the Orleans may well be our favorite Vegas hotel. In addition to the Obligatory Nevada Tax Revenue Collection Station (a.k.a. the casino), the Orleans has several nice restaurants, a bowling alley, a movie complex, and a huge pool and Jacuzzi.

So on Monday the 5^th, we tidied up the house, cut the lawn, packed, and got Teh Kittehs, Basil and Gregory, ready for our departure. On the way, I got my new shoes’ inserts properly adjusted; thanks, A Proper Fit! Minor inconvenience: after going through security, I discovered I didn’t have my mp3 player! No one had turned it in to the TSA. Turns out I left it on my bed, and it was under the sheets after I made said bed.

Our flight was delayed slightly because of congestion at McCarran Airport in Vegas, probably with a large number of people heading home from the 4^th weekend. The flight, landing, and rental car pickup all went smoothly. We rented a Chevy Aveo that did the job, but I kept hitting my head on the grab bar above the door. Without the mp3 player, we had to content ourselves with the radio. I love how so many stations advertise “no-repeat work days,” but they don’t tell you they repeat every song the next day, and often in the same order!

But we weren’t there for that. After we got settled in the room, we partook of the pool, which was most refreshing despite the 104-degree temperature. The hot wind warmed us up rather quickly once we were in the lounge chairs. After dinner and some contributions to the Nevada tax base, we went to bed.

Come Tuesday morning, we decided to try out the buffet. So, however, was everyone else, because Tuesday was a discount day for seniors. We waited in line with a couple ladies who had gotten their coupons, then one of them gave us hers. How sweet was that? We passed the blessing along to our server.

After watching the first World Cup semi-final game, Sandy suggested we head out west to Pahrump, where she had once seen a patient. The ride through the Red Rock Mountains was impressive, and then we came to Pahrump, a town spread over many square miles. It’s probably best known for giving the world the enigmatic late-night talk show host Art Bell, who now calls Manila home. According to Sandy’s patient, Pahrumpians (?) get tired of being asked about him.

I saw on a map that there was a small portion of Death Valley National Park that was located near Pahrump. We didn’t find that (turns out it was located within a wildlife refuge), but we decided to continue into California and visit the park itself. The rock formations were impressive, as were the salty floors of what had been an inland sea. Deeper into the valley we descended until we reached sea level, then found the Furnace Creek Resort and the nearby Visitor Center at 190 feet below. The temperature was a mere 120 degrees. Sandy got us some water, which served one important function; it was wet. Warm, but wet. Time prevented us from seeing Badwater Basin, the lowest surface point in the Western Hemisphere at -282 feet. Maybe next time we’ll come in winter, and allow ourselves more time! On the way back, I fear I ran over a lizard on the highway.

Not surprisingly, when we got back to the hotel, we jumped in the pool again, even though 120 makes 105 feel cool by comparison! But for reasons that were not disclosed, the pool was closed only moments after we entered. Drat. We contented ourselves with Fuddruckers for dinner.

The next day, we watched the other World Cup semi-final, and then headed northeast toward the Valley of Fire, a state park near the northernmost arm of Lake Mead. About as seemingly remote as Death Valley, the VoF has been used as a setting for numerous movies. It features all sorts of unusual red rock formations, many with holes in them etched by wind and sand.

I took a short hike through one canyon. The sand was a bright orange and seemed to have the consistency of soft clay. And then, on the cliffs amid what appeared to be tar, I saw the petroglyphs. To this day, it’s not exactly certain what the Indians of that era were trying to communicate. The other fascinating thing about the canyon was the absolutely dead silence. There aren’t many places in the world that quiet.

As we continued through the park, more incredible scenes unveiled themselves around every curve and following every dip, such as Elephant Rock and the Seven Sisters. I wanted to drive back to Vegas along Lake Mead, but the road was being extensively rebuilt, and a long portion was nothing but gravel. So we turned around, backtracked through the park, and headed down I-15. That night we had what may have been our best dinner of the trip, at Don Miguel’s in the hotel.

After all that gallivanting, we decided to chill out on Thursday. We ventured out of the hotel for both breakfast (at the Black Bear Diner, where just about every jukebox song I selected skipped) and dinner (at Marie Callender’s). But we did partake of Toy Story 3 in 3-D. Very enjoyable, and I was a bit verklempt at the end.

On our final day together, we checked out of the Orleans and headed to Lake Mead National Recreation Area near Boulder City. After having lunch at the restaurant on the floating docks, we boarded the Desert Princess and tooled around the lake, including almost up to Hoover Dam. Lake Mead is well below normal levels because of ongoing droughts in Colorado and Utah, but it’s not at a record low . . . yet. Unfortunately, the breeze was hot, so the air-conditioned interior of the Desert Princess felt good.

After we killed a bit of time and got dinner, Sandy dropped me off at McCarran. My flight was delayed about 30 minutes because of equipment problems; some of the seats in the rear needed to be replaced, as did one of the landing lights. Time seemed to pass a lot slower without my mp3 player. The flight was smooth, and I spent most of it talking with a bubbly young couple across the aisle. I soon learned they were so bubbly because they were drunk. They were headed from San Diego to Reno for a 70^th birthday party for the guy’s dad.

Sandy stayed behind to learn about creating a pregnancy center, based on one already up and running in Las Vegas. So Teh Kittehs and I are bachin’ it for a few days.

We'll Teach That Rapist A Lesson By Killing A Baby

2010-07-11T09:51:00.000-07:00

The Democratic Party shows yet again why it has no room whatsoever for pro-lifers. Can someone explain to me how killing an innocent baby undoes the wrong of a terrible crime like rape? Sharron Angle: No Woman's Right To Choose, Even In Cases Of Rape Or Incest (which, by the way, may account for one percent of the abortions in the U.S.)

Also, someone needs to inform Phoebe ~~Sour~~ Sweet that a majority of Americans identify themselves as pro-life, so it is she and her pro-death cronies who are out of the mainstream and not Sharron Angle or the Catholic Church.

The Kiss

2010-07-02T15:53:00.000-07:00

Having taken three years of Latin in high school, I opted to continue studying it in college. However, my school didn't offer it at the time, but the girls' college next door did. Turns out there were several of us from my college who were there, including a high school classmate who also took as much Latin as I did.

If I remember correctly, this was my first college class ever. We primarily studied the writings of Catullus and Ovid, and were taught by one of the few remaining nuns. But I had no time to hang around after class because I had an economics class back on my campus to get to.

As I did throughout my college years, I had hyperactive hormones and was sizing up the girls in the Latin class, but any interest I showed was unrequited (as usual, and probably to our mutual benefit). One of the ladies was a senior named Betsy. She wasn't drop-dead gorgeous, but she wasn't unattractive either, and I didn't think much of her at the time. We related no more or less than two students in a small class would.

Well, after our last class of the semester, I turned to go as usual and was heading down a back staircase that I discovered got me out of the building faster. Behind me came Betsy, who wanted to say goodbye.

And in the stairwell, the way she chose to do so was with a long, passionate kiss. Needless to say, I was shocked, but I admit I liked it too. What guy wouldn't?

Why did she do that? I have no idea. I could understand a hug, but a kiss? She hardly knew me. Was I the only guy from the class she did that to? Also no idea.

Naturally, I never saw or heard from her again. I would have many other unusual experiences to come in my pursuit of the Fairer Sex in college, but that was one of the strangest of my entire life.

Learn From My Fail

2010-06-27T21:10:00.000-07:00

Based on the site of the same name, from the popular Cheezburger family.

Some Fails I have learned from over the years, in no particular order:

A sink disposal is not a good place to get rid of flour. Or rice. Or, especially, both simultaneously.
When playing touch football in a park with strangers many years older than you, do not run with the ball near a sidewalk. The ball can bounce off it. Your head, not so much.
When about to walk out on stage, make sure you have all your props, especially the mouse with which to scare your fellow thespian. Or the cowboy boots your exhausted wife had to drive half an hour to bring to you.
When using your brother's car after he just joined the Air Force, it's a good idea to check the oil on occasion, preferably well before the engine throws a rod.
When with a mixed group of college guys and girls from University Christian Outreach, and when you're trying to "act holy" around the girls, don't make references to the "toe cleavage" of one of the guys.
Don't assume just because the girl across the aisle from you in college American Government class talked to you, she wants to go out with you. (I blame going to an all-boys' high school. Ironically, she was dating, and wound up marrying, one of my HS classmates.)
When the plastic guard comes loose from your electric weed trimmer, don't keep using it. Otherwise, you could lose the glass in your front storm door.
After your top bunk collapses and falls on top of your brother in the middle of the night, don't run to get your parents first. Get the bedding off of him.
Don't make sharp turns in a golf cart. Believe it or not, I had to jump out for my safety before it hit a tree.
When leading worship on guitar, don't modulate to another chord when no one else knows you've done so, including and especially the other musicians.
Don't walk backwards down your concrete steps when heading to work. I'm lucky I didn't seriously injure my head or back when my foot missed the first step.
Along those lines, don't return from the hospital in a huff because you forgot your pillow and a couple other things . . . only to trip over the curb in front of your house and injure your wrists and right elbow that only required three operations to (sort of) fix.
Never tell your mom, a la Bob and Doug Mackenzie, to "get out."
Don't fall in love with a Vietnamese girl who only wanted a relationship so she could avoid deportation. (Actually, that only lasted 24 hours.)
Don't pass up marrying the girl of your dreams. (Actually, that's a fail that never happened. :-))

Freezing Ass River

2010-05-31T21:54:00.000-07:00

(Pardon the title: it came from a co-worker who was talking about her need to jump in a Nevada or California river, never mind that it just stopped snowing.)

LC and I made our first visit to Nevada in 1993. As part of our exploration of the Sierras and the Lake Tahoe region, we drove up to Donner Lake. It was early September, and we decided to take a dip.

I think that's the coldest body of water I've ever been in, including the Potomac River in Williamsport for the annual New Year's Day Polar Bear Plunge in 2003. LC said she shivered all night, and she could feel the cold in her bones! By comparison, Lake Tahoe the next couple days felt almost like bath water. (Well, not quite, but it was quite a bit warmer.)

We haven't gone swimming in Tahoe, Pyramid Lake, or the Truckee River since we've moved here, but I'm sure it's just a matter of time. I guess as a result of getting older, I'm not as much an aficionado of ignoring the temperature unless it's for something like a brief Polar Bear Plunge.

Stepball

2010-05-23T20:37:00.000-07:00

Growing up in the inner city of Baltimore (mine was defined as an inner city neighborhood), we had to find different ways to keep ourselves occupied in the summertime. Besides street football and bike riding, we would play stepball.

Stepball was generally a one-on-one game. It was a derivative of baseball in which the "batter" would throw a baseball-sized rubber ball against the front or back steps to see how far it went before the fielder could get it. Such balls were either bought at one of the corner stores for a quarter, or found floating in Herring Run after a rainstorm.

The best hits resulted from hitting the ball against the corner of a step, especially to get a nice line drive. Here's how we scored it, depending on whether it was the front or back yard:

Single (Front or back): Ground ball that got past the fielder.
Double: Fly ball that (F) landed at least halfway across the street, or (B) in the front half of the alley.
Triple: Fly ball that (F) landed between the street and the far sidewalk, or (B) in the back half of the alley.
Home run: Fly ball that (F) reached the far sidewalk or further, or (B) the garage or yard across the alley.
Foul: Usually landing (F) outside the width of the yard where the steps were, or (B) in either of the adjacent yards. Or, to the consternation of my mother, (F or B) any ball that hit the steps but bounced up onto the porch, often hitting the screen door.

Playing out front was more difficult because of the cars that would often be parked right in our field of play, not to mention the ones that dared interfere by driving through. But we were less likely to hit the front door with a foul ball, thanks to the huge porch. On occasion, we'd put a ball up atop the porch, but that takes skill.

A high school classmate of mine found stepball fascinating when he came to visit the summer between freshman and sophomore years. Of course, as the son of a bank executive, he'd never been in an inner city neighborhood. He later showed me a version of baseball he'd invented on his tennis court. (Other "rich kids" loved exploring my neighborhood. One wanted to find rats along Herring Run and go walking through the sewers.)

Up at the nearby elementary school, kids often played "wallball", using similar principles for how far a ball would go for what kind of hit it was. But the batter actually used a bat, standing in front of a rectangle painted on the building. That way, the pitcher had his own strike zone, and the ball would come right back to him.

We Really Used To Sing This, Exhibit 1

2010-05-22T09:23:00.000-07:00

~~Written~~ Perpetrated by Tom Parker, 1968 (In our critique of the St. Louis Jesuits, Haugen-Haas, Tom Conry, etc., we forget that Parker, Jack Miffleton, and Ray Repp -- with the complicity of WLP -- started this Spirit-of-Vatican-II descent into Liturgical Music Hades.)

Let All The Earth Sing His Praise

REFRAIN: Let all the earth sing his praise and joyful voices raise, for his mercy reaches out to ev'ry land. (I used to think it was "BEFORE his mercy reaches out." I wanted to make sure I raised my joyful voice in time!)

1. Sing, men, of distant China, tell of his worth
From Italy to the icy sea of the North. (All those syllables were crammed in toward the end of the line.)
Men who ride on elephants and men who work in stores; (how sexist!)
Jesus is Lord of all the earth. (In other words, ignore those three previous lines.)

2. Come, dance, and run before him all you who can,
from Baltimore to the distant shore of Japan. (I think that's why our parish sung this so much; it mentioned good old Bawlamer. But why?)
Men (again!) who plow the endless (?) plains your Savior is at hand: Jesus the hope of ev'ry land. (Again, a mention of Jesus covers up everything else.)

3. Hear us men of France and Sweden, boys of Peru, (Did Parker influence Steely Dan to use a bunch of geographic references?)
all children of the sea, girls (finally) of Brittany, too. (Um, excuse me, but Brittany is in the aforementioned France.)
Babies who ride on camels trudging seas of sand: (Metrically, this line, and most of those in the verses, make no musical sense.)
Jesus, your brother's callin' you. ("Callin'" is how Parker wrote it.)

And this was called liturgical music. I think I'd prefer "Headin' out to Eden, yea, brother . . ." from Star Trek.

Slots in Maryland: How's that working out?

2010-04-03T09:29:00.000-07:00

Right now, it looks like Nevada gaming has nothing to worry about from Maryland.

November 2008: MD voters approve slot machine gambling, ostensibly to get the share of business states like WV, DE, and now PA are taking from MD coffers.

April 2010: Number of slot machines deployed and operating in MD so far -- ZERO. And I sometimes wonder if it'll ever happen, because if there's one thing you can count on in MD, it's NIMBYs.

But at Arundel Mills Mall, they have a case: Plans for Arundel Mills Casino Come To Halt. In its short history, Arundel Mills has become overcrowded, parking is a disaster, and the place is unsafe at night. It's a lousy location, and there's not that much worth going to. LC and I didn't feel safe when we were there just before moving out here.

I can't help watching how this long-awaited dream is taking forever to become reality.

Memo to Barbara McGuigan

2010-03-27T08:31:00.000-07:00

Dear Barbara McGuigan of EWTN Radio:

Please stop sighing "Yes" every 5 seconds when you're interviewing someone. It makes you sound like Rexella Van Impe. I can't listen to you when you do that. Thanks.

Every Light In The House Is On

2010-03-27T08:07:00.000-07:00

Show the ~~World Wrestling Federation~~ World Wildlife Fund it couldn't be more wrong about "climate change" . . . and put all your lights ON at 8:30 tonight!

A great argument for why, from Canada's National Post. (What, a conservative Can'tadian publication? I'm sure thugs from the Human Rights Commissions are on their way to shut them down as I type.)

One Of These Things Is Not Like The Other

2010-03-21T21:34:00.001-07:00

The Easter Bunny

Leprechauns

The Great Pumpkin

Pro-Life Democrats

Okay, so I lied. None of them exist.

UPDATE: From Catholic Cartoon Blog:

Lonely Again

2010-03-20T19:17:00.000-07:00

I just wish there was someone I could call up to watch a game with, go bowling with, etc. I haven't had anyone like that for way too long.

It Was Fun While It Lasted

2010-03-14T22:33:00.000-07:00

For the last several years, I've used a minidisc recorder like this one to record news stories and interviews, music, and even our cats. Unfortunately, the third -- and likely last -- of these has given up the ghost. Whereas I dropped the first two and thus destroyed their recording capability, this one died from too much wear on the mic input jack. It would sound fine when I recorded on it in the house, but once I took it outside, the connection was fickle and unnecessary noise ensued, ruining more than one interview.

Minidisc players took off for a while in Asia and Europe. They involved a disc slightly smaller than a diskette onto which sound was recorded . . . up to five hours worth. The format never really caught on in the U.S., although radio newsrooms used them for quite a while because of their sound quality. But the kind I had here was never really built for professional use. Now, minidiscs have been left behind by iPods and mp3 players, as well as digital voice recorders that can record many more hours of sound. And all without moving parts.

So now I'm looking for a digital voice recorder. Anyone want some minidiscs?

Stations of the Cross

2010-03-12T22:42:00.000-08:00

For the first time in quite a while, I attended Stations of the Cross, at my home parish of Immaculate Conception.

On one hand, it was good to be reminded of what Jesus went through, and it was touching to sing the song of Mary after each station. On the other hand, I was saddened to see the parish using a 1970 set of Stations that reeked of "Spirit of Vatican II", focusing on us more than Him. Whoever wrote this did so in persona Christi, continually referring to the reader/supplicant as "My other." The photos for the most part looked like they could have been used as Steely Dan album covers. I guess a Nihil Obstat and an Imprimatur don't excuse everything. (See also V for Victory's post.)

Turns out Father Z had a post about the Stations as well. I wish we'd use St. Alphonsus Liguori's version. Oh, well, after reading the comments, I should be grateful we have Stations at all. And at least these didn't include the Resurrection as a Fifteenth Station, like we had when I was in Catholic elementary school. Eeesh.

I'm also enjoying listening to Catholic apologist Tim Staples' set of talks called "Sword of the Spirit." That term has had a negative connotation to me ever since my days in the Lamb of God community in Baltimore, so it's nice to hear Staples redeem it for me. Right now I'm listening to the talk on the Eucharist, focusing especially on the Bread of Life discourse in John 6.

Bumper sticker of the day

2010-03-09T17:34:00.000-08:00

I usually ignore Pagan/Wiccan bumper stickers on vehicles (how often do you find just one, anyway?), but this one made me laugh:

Come to the Dark Side

We have cookies

The Dusty Organ

2010-02-28T11:43:00.000-08:00

Last September, just before the annual "Street Vibrations" rally in Reno, we got word of a motorcyclist being killed in a crash in Lemmon Valley. Only later did we find out that was the only organist our parish had. May he rest in peace.

I hate our organ not being used. Instead, we have to put up with the "Tongan Choir," which is led by a guitarist and an obnoxious electronic keyboard. It wouldn't be so bad if they could actually sing.

Sadly, many pipe organs at parishes are gathering dust. Despite the entreaties of Sacrosanctum Consilium (1963) that (all emphasis mine)

[i]n the Latin Church the pipe organ is to be held in high esteem, for it is the traditional musical instrument which adds a wonderful splendor to the Church's ceremonies and powerfully lifts up man's mind to God and to higher things[,]

the organ is now seen as a quaint novelty, and many new churches are being built without one. For example, look at St. Ignatius Loyola in Ijamsville, Maryland, which thought a grand piano would be more appropriate for its new sanctuary.

I think what happened in the "Spirit of Vatican II" was the next passage from Sacrosanctum Concilium was taken way out of context:

But other instruments also may be admitted for use in divine worship, with the knowledge and consent of the competent territorial authority, as laid down in Art. 22, 52, 37, and 40. This may be done, however, only on condition that the instruments are suitable, or can be made suitable, for sacred use, accord with the dignity of the temple, and truly contribute to the edification of the faithful.

And if we take a look back a few years at De musica sacra et sacra liturgia, we see how this got watered down:

Musical instruments which by common acception, and use are suitable only for secular music must be entirely excluded from all liturgical functions, and private devotions.

Now that you've read this, chances are you know more about Church teaching on sacred music than does your parish's music director, or perhaps even the one for your diocese or archdiocese. And you also know how OCP and GIA's bread has gotten buttered since the late 60's. Remember this the next time you have to suffer through "Gather Us In."

P.S. I just became aware of this article from Adoremus that explores this topic further in depth.

This Is Called Tolerance

2010-02-25T18:58:00.000-08:00

Gay Mob Protests Wedding Vow Renewal at Chicago Cathedral

What, didn't Perky Award-Winning Journalist Katie Couric tell you about this?

Maybe the most disturbing part of the article:

The Chicago Municipal Code states that someone is punishable for disorderly conduct whenever he "pickets or demonstrates on a public way within 150 feet of any church, temple, synagogue or other place of worship while services are being conducted."

When Doherty asked an officer why they were permitting the protest to continue immediately outside the cathedral, she recounts, he "said that the organizer of the protest currently has 20 lawsuits pending against the city of Chicago and he tends to name officers personally as defendants in his civil suits."

But try to have a protest anywhere near a Chicago abortion clinic. Wow. Just wow.

The Old Rugged Stadium (Not)

2010-02-24T17:09:00.000-08:00

Are stadiums and arenas becoming the latest examples of Planned Obsolescence? I cannot believe the increasingly short lifespans these (usually taxpayer funded) structures have.

As a Baltimore Colts fan, I'll never forget how that snake in the grass Bob Irsay snuck the team out to Indianapolis and their state-of-the-art Hoosier Dome (which, like just about every other stadium these days, went through a couple corporate name changes after that). It opened in 1984. Twenty-five years later, it's gone, replaced by LucasOil Stadium, which is -- you guessed it -- publicly financed. Giants Stadium was just torn down at the ripe old age of 35. The Pontiac Silverdome hosts a few conventions and expos, but that's about it. Its punishment for being built in 1975? Being sold for slightly more than an upper middle class home.

Down the road in Sacramento, Arco Arena opened in 1988. Despite the fact that every Sacramento Kings game is sold out, there's talk about building a new arena on the site of the Cal Expo. And note this inside the story of how the NCAA is no longer holding March Madness games at Arco:

The NCAA rejection message supports what the owners of ARCO Arena have been saying for a number of years. Built in 1988, ARCO is the oldest arena in the NBA.

There you have it. A structure built in 1988 is now "old." It's all about Not Being The Last Kid On Your Block To Have A New Building. Or, it's a case of How Many Luxury Boxes Can We Squeeze In? (Never mind that the recession has made many companies cut back on those expenses.)

Now I have not been to Arco personally, and I know some folks who have are less than happy with it. But I can't imagine it's worse than Baltimore's First Mariner Arena, which is going on *50* years old and is woefully inadequate for everything. Even in college, we called it the Baltimore "Urena."

Fortunately, across the country, taxpayers have been increasingly saying "no" to publicly financed stadiums, especially when they don't need to be replaced for any other reason than to satisfy the whim of an owner. And let's hear it for the San Francisco Giants' AT&T Park, which was compeletely financed through private funds. That needs to be the rule, not the exception, in sports.

Nice Weekend

2010-02-22T19:41:00.000-08:00

LC and I took advantage of a one-night-free special at the Grand Sierra Resort (formerly the Reno Hilton) and spent Friday and Saturday nights there.

The hotel was rather busy when we arrived; there was a scientific convention going on, plus many were arriving for either weekend skiing or the super middleweight boxing match between local boy Jesse Brinkley and Curtis Stevens. We wound up watching the Brinkley-Stevens fight in our room while it was going on downstairs, with Brinkley pulling an upset victory by unanimous decision. He knocked down Stevens in the 6th and 12th rounds, and Stevens should be thankful there wasn't a 13th round. Neither of us are boxing aficionados, but we both concluded that was an enjoyable fight.

Both of us fared well gaming, with the Mystical Mermaid slot machine being especially generous to me.

Our room was as nice as just about any we've stayed in. The beds were ridiculously confortable, soft but not too soft. The bathroom was huge and gorgeous; the only thing that would have made it better was if it had a bathtub instead of a shower (almost the size of our walk-in closet at home). It also gave great views of downtown Reno.

On Saturday afternoon, we partook of the virtual golf facility on the lower level, playing the Kapalua Village course. It's a good thing we did so virtually and not in reality; we both stunk up the joint. We hit golf balls off a mat into a pad onto which the computer-generated course screen was projected, and the computer plotted where our shot wound up. We also checked out the sports merchandise store (we were the second customers to ask about Ravens merchandise, which they didn't have any of) and the candy shop (they had Goetze's caramel creams!).

Only down side about the GSR: the service at their cafe left much to be desired, even when were were there after the virtual golf with hardly anyone else.

And an oopsie on my part: I forgot to get my dirty clothes out of the closet! Fortunately, they kept them for me and I picked them up the next day.

All in all, a nice time away with my sweetie . . . even if "away" translated to only 8 miles or so.

Don't Call It "Awareness"

2010-01-11T23:24:00.000-08:00

Okay, so last week, women on Facebook gleefully posted colors as their statuses, counfounding the heck out of us guys for a while. Turns out it was an "awareness" effort purportedly by the Susan G. Komen Foundation whereby women posted the colors of their bras. But Komen says they didn't start it, although they were happy to take the credit.

All it made me aware of was how glad I am to be a man and don't have to worry about such things. This "campaign" had as much to do about breast cancer "awareness" as a PETA protest has to do with actually saving animals.

Every October, we're besieged with Breast Cancer Awareness. It's all over the NFL. It's all over towns ("Paint The Town Pink"). And it's a guilt-ridden PR offensive that says If I Don't Wear Pink, I Must Be In Favor Of Breast Cancer. All sorts of "stars" talk about it as well. Only the most reclusive women couldn't be "aware" of breast cancer. But "awareness" isn't the name of the game. Funding is.

I'm not knocking breast cancer as a disease, and I'm well aware of the effects it can have on women and those around them. I'm just saying, stop calling it "awareness." We're aware, already!

P.S. I'm still waiting for Komen to accept the link between abortion and breast cancer (not to mention abortion and contraception), and to sever its ties with Planned Parenthood.

Sorry, but . . .

2010-01-06T21:11:00.000-08:00

I'm not going to shed any tears for a dead lab monkey as long as 4,000 children are "legally" murdered every day with no one shedding tears for them.

A Sense Of Proportion

2009-12-12T16:06:00.000-08:00

I mentioned in my Las Vegas trip report that we had a hard time going to Mass Sunday morning because of the Las Vegas Rock and Roll Marathon (and half marathon). From the Rio, we effectively couldn't go north, south, east, or west without running into a street blocked for the race. That foiled our plans to go to an 8 AM Mass, so we had breakfast at the Gold Coast, returned to the Rio and checked out, and then made another attempt at Mass, this time at the Strip's Guardian Angel Cathedral.

It took us nearly an hour and a half to get there; the only street we could get onto was Frank Sinatra Drive, which paralleled the Strip and I-15. Problem was, everyone else in Vegas was there as well. We found a parking lot where we thought we could park, but a man there was ensuring we couldn't do so. Eventually, I dropped Sandy off about 10 minutes before Mass was to start. Driving around the block again, I found the Strip was finally reopened where I could actually get to the cathedral parking lot.

Upon first appearance, I was unimpressed with the cathedral. The mural behind the altar looked like something out of the Fantastic Four, and otherwise it's a rather un-ornate sanctuary, looking like a converted ski chalet.

But all that didn't matter once the homily started, given by a visiting priest. He was a missionary, and he told us how in Central America his order was trying to get more children in their schools so they might have a chance at getting out of poverty. They'd even feed the kids twice a day.

This was news to the poor villager parents who would put their kids to work for 12 hours a day, as soon as they were 8 years old, picking through garbage dumps for anything recyclable so they could make a couple dollars. The priest mentioned one boy who found something that still looked edible . . . and had to fight off vultures for it.

Needless to say, we were rather generous with the collection for his mission. And we appreciated the reality check and its accompanying sense of proportion. We're getting stressed about Las Vegas traffic, and elsewhere, 8-year-old kids are picking through garbage. And I didn't feel guilt like I did when my mom would tell us, "Millions of kids are starving in Africa!" when we didn't clean off our plates.

(Our smart-alecky response: "Name two.")

Trip Report: Las Vegas

2009-12-08T17:36:00.000-08:00

Sandy and I hadn't really had any time away to ourselves since we moved out here, and I had some leave time I had to use before I lost it, so we decided to take a long weekend in Las Vegas, 450 miles southeast of Reno.

December 2: The flight out was nice and uneventful. I've never seen luggage get dumped onto the carousel as quickly as it did at McCarran International; it seemed almost as if the Clampetts all arrived at once! That's how I managed to miss my suitcase the first time around.

We made what turned out to be a smart move by getting a rental car from Enterprise, the third Chevy HHR we've had from them in just over a year. Then before we checked into the Rio (we'd stayed there before), we had lunch at Marie Callender's just down the street. We each had a special that included a slice of pie for dessert, and we let the way too energetic server talk us into Chocolate Satin. Wow, was that rich! Fighting the sugar and chocolate high, we checked into the Rio and slept for a few hours; I had been up all night until then.

That evening, we decided to go check out the Orleans casino not far away. We'd stayed there before as well, and were actually hoping to go there this time as well, but we got a better deal at the Rio. We dined that evening at the TGIFridays on site.

Beginning that night, we saw lots of folks in ten-gallon hats, and would see many more over the next few days. The National Finals Rodeo was starting that weekend. I thought I saw my co-worker's wife, who was planning to be in town on a girls' trip for the NFR, but 1) she wasn't there yet, and 2) she's not a blonde. Didn't see her or her friends at all that weekend.

December 3: My in-laws had taken us to the Gold Coast casino across the street from the Rio for breakfast before, so we went there for a most reasonably-priced buffet. Part of the same chain as the Orleans, the Gold Coast has many of the same amenities, including a 70-lane upstairs bowling alley.

Yes, we spent a good amount of time at the slots. Some of the ones that were kinder to me included Mystical Mermaid, Money Storm, and Russian Treasure (you can get winning lines both left to right and right to left). It seemed as if when Sandy was doing well, I wasn't, and vice versa.

We had hoped to swim or take advantage of the Rio's spas, but it was really too cold to do either comfortably, so we didn't.

That night, we made our way to the Venetian to see Blue Man Group. We marveled at how they managed to communicate so much without saying one word (there were voiceovers). Also, I had the urge to find some PVC tubing to hit. Even the announcements before the show were quite silly. Note: if you don't like thumping bass music or strobe lights, don't go. You'll be sorry if you don't, however. It's something that really has to be experienced to be believed.

December 4: Our day started early as we took a tour bus to Laughlin, near the southernmost point of Nevada. We straggled over to the Flamingo to catch said bus, passing the Donny and Marie store, and looked for a quick bite to eat. My "quick bite" of a bagel with egg and bacon and a bottle of water cost $12.

On the way, we stopped at the famous "Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada" sign which has a new parking area on the south end of the Strip. Then we stopped briefly at Hoover Dam, as we had done on a previous trip with my in-laws. Lake Mead is WAY down, something like 130 feet below normal! A new bridge will help alleviate congestion getting across the Colorado River. We spotted a bighorn sheep or two on the rocks above the river.

Rather irksome: Our tour bus driver, a Pennsylvania native, kept calling it "neh-VAHH-dah." It's "neh-VAA-dah"! But he did tell us why Boulder City and other towns out west (including Reno and Sparks) have their initial letters on the hillsides: it's because mail used to be flown in, and the letters were all they had to go by to know which town was which! Now it's done just to keep the tradition alive, and new communities in our area like Galena and Spanish Springs do the same thing.

We drove past a massive solar array south of Boulder City, and then through Searchlight, the small town that inflicted Harry Reid upon us. Blink and you miss it.

Riding through the desert is a wild experience. From miles away, I can see where we have to turn, or what town we're driving toward . . . but it still takes time to get there! It really changes my sense of perspective. The mountains on either side of the valley were quite impressive. Wile E. Coyote would have been at home.

The bus then turned east and went downhill to the Colorado River and the gaming town of Laughlin. It's a smaller version of Vegas, with its casinos drawing folks like the Kingston Trio and the Smothers Brothers. It's also a lot quieter and less congested, and the Colorado River makes a great setting for it. We strolled along the Riverwalk in the afternoon, following a lunch buffet at the Edgewater Casino.

On the other side of the Colorado is Bullhead City, Arizona. We were amazed by how quickly water taxis skip across the river despite an extremely swift current! Most river rides weren't operating because of the cold weather that day; some go downstream all the way to Lake Havasu City, AZ to take in the London Bridge. In the summertime, Laughlin and Bullhead City, like Vegas, can get extremely hot.

During the return trip, we watched the movie Radio with Cuba Gooding, Jr. and Ed Harris. That was impressive, and quite a story.

That night, we partook of the Rio's seafood buffet, a little pricey, but we got our money's worth. We were disappointed that the Rio had scuttled its famous, albeit campy, "Mardi Gras In The Sky" show for racier stuff. Also at the Rio, girls will get up and dance at the drop of a hat, and guys will effectively sing Karaoke. I guess patrons enjoy that.

December 5: We didn't want to eat in the hotel, so we drove out to the Strip and had breakfast at Denny's. Then we headed over to the Orleans for the Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert.

Apparently, the Las Vegas TSO concert was a late addition to their schedule; as a result, the Orleans Arena was far from sold out, although I'm glad we got our tickets from will call before everyone else jumped in line. We had lunch with a lady who said the casino workers should file a grievance to prevent smoking in the casinos. (Ummmm . . . yeah.)

When TSO stuck to their bread and butter of classical-based metal tunes, they were spot on, and the special effects were quite impressive; I've never seen rigging move that much. But when they chose to tell a Meaningful Christmas Story Through Music, the concert dragged to a halt, although the narrator was quite good. Still, I forgot just about everything they did in that whole middle section. The kids behind us didn't help any by yakking through that whole segment; the glares I shot them went unheeded.

By the end, however, TSO kicked back up to high energy and finished strong. I found it interesting that all their female musicians were young blondes. In retrospect, we probably should have gone to their later concert; we were unable to go to Mass that night, a decision that would come back to haunt us later.

That night, we headed to Las Vegas' old downtown on Fremont Street, getting dinner at the Golden Nugget across from its aquarium complete with a water slide through the middle of it. We then visited a small old casino that still dealt in nickels (just about all others print out receipts). In it was a couple that obviously had a few (dozen?) too many. She appeared extremely amorous at the time, perhaps not wanting to wait to get a room!

We caught the Fremont Street Experience's sound and video show of Don McLean's "American Pie". The rest of the schedule is on the above link. Unfortunately, we didn't get any video because our camera's battery was low (sounds almost like an "American Pie" lyric!). We then searched the souvenir stores for a sweatshirt for Sandy, but sweatshirts without hoods were in short supply.

December 6: We knew this was the day of Las Vegas' Rock and Roll Marathon and Half Marathon, but we didn't realize how much it was going to impact our attempt to get to early Mass. We were effectively blocked from leaving the Rio to the north, south, east, and west! So we checked out of the Rio, went to breakfast at the Gold Coast, and tried again to get to Mass. It took us an hour and a half to get to the cathedral downtown . . . only about three miles away. But what happened that morning was so profound and sublime, I'm saving a separate post for that.

After Mass, we headed down toward the airport. We checked out the Town Square Las Vegas shopping center on the south end of the Strip, which featured a Fry's Electronics. It's an enormous store that puts Best Buy to shame, and we'd never been in one before. Why isn't there one in Reno or Sparks? It would clean up!

Then we drove around looking for someplace for lunch. I overindulged a bit at Claim Jumper, having a large platter of chicken carbonara when a small one would have sufficed. While waiting to be seated, we met a family from Maryland who were also Ravens fans, although one of the girls was showing a lot more of her pelvic area than necessary. Turns out the general manager of the Claim Jumper is a Ravens fan too.

We dropped off the rental car and awaited our flight home. At the airport, Sandy met one of her co-workers who had competed in the half-marathon. Only when we were airborne did we learn it was snowing in Reno; we knew it was going to be cold, but we hadn't heard about snow.

The pilot told us repeatedly to expect a rough descent into Reno. I felt like I was awaiting an elementary school fire drill. The beverage service consisted of water only. And then we began the descent with the plane bucking back and forth through the winds aloft in the clouds. I wish I could have been listening to my MP3 player as a distraction. But we landed safely, albeit not that smoothly because of the snow. Good job.

So that was our long weekend. When getting home, I quickly unpacked my suitcase and grabbed a little sleep before heading to work that night in half a foot of snow.

Don't Support The CCHD

2009-11-14T19:22:00.000-08:00

Instead of giving to the lefty Catholic Campaign for Human Development next weekend, print out this coupon and put it in the collection instead.

This, this, and this will explain why, as will this site and this Facebook group.

Not So Lonely

2009-10-25T22:47:00.000-07:00

I'm happy to report I've gotten off my duff and am socializing more.

I've been to the last two Nevada Wolf Pack games, both victories (yes, Anita, I'm looking at you). More importantly, in addition to Regina Pacis Cantorum, I have now joined the Reno Silver Dollar Chorus to sing barbershop as a tenor.

And LC and I have joined a Why Catholic? group at our parish. It's been good so far.

That should keep me out of trouble for a while, and give me a better attitude toward down time.

Lonely

2009-10-05T18:16:00.000-07:00

I wish I had more friends out here. I'm not a partyer like a lot of other people in my profession. And the schedule I work limits a lot of what I can do socially.

I spend a lot more time by myself than I care to. (And no, I'm not blaming my wife.)

The Swarm

2009-09-30T16:52:00.000-07:00

On Thursday, LC and I drove from Sparks to Sacramento where we would spend the night before flying to Orange County for the weekend. The going was quite slow on I-80 across the Sierra because of massive reconstruction. We decided to have a late lunch in Auburn at a Marie Callender's, then headed back toward Sacramento.

At first, traffic was better than we expected; most of it was headed east toward Carmichael, Rocklin, and other suburbs. Then we heard on the radio about a big rig accident on I-5 southbound, and saw a consequent backup on the ramp from I-80 westbound to I-5 southbound. We grinned and bore it.

And then they appeared. First a couple, then a few, then dozens, then hundreds, then thousands. Bees started attacking our car and the others on the ramp! Some even tried to sting the windshield. We wondered first whether these could be Africanized bees, and then whether this was a one-time thing related to a traffic incident or a regular occurrence. Most of the other drivers appeared unfazed, except for motorcyclists who weaved their way between the lanes to keep from getting stung.

We reached our hotel which was only about 200 yards from I-5, but . . . not a single bee. Weird.

Youth Mass Purgatory

2009-09-28T20:14:00.000-07:00

LC and I were away for the weekend in southern California and had not been to Mass yet. We were driving back from Sacramento, and our flight had gotten in too late to go to Mass there. So we planned to go to a 5 PM Mass somewhere to fulfill our obligation.

We got into Carson City in time for the Youth Mass at St. Teresa of Avila Catholic Community. I guess I go to Youth/LifeTeen Masses every once in a while to remember why I don't like going to Youth/LifeTeen Masses.

Everyone was talking in the sanctuary before Mass, making prayer difficult.

It started off with the senior team members (or some such term, which seemed to be half the kids) standing with their backs to the altar and clapping to the opening song, which was typical "Aren't We Great?" fare. Music was provided by a guitarist, a bass player, and a drummer.

The kids clapped to just about every song, and at the end of each. Applause was the rule of the day here, never mind that it is only at an ordination Mass that applause is allowed.

"Wherever applause breaks out in the liturgy because of some human achievement, it is a sure sign that the essence of liturgy has totally disappeared and been replaced by a kind of religious entertainment. " (Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Spirit of the Liturgy, p. 198)

Father may have been ill. He left the altar three times and did not distribute the Eucharist. Moreover, he omitted the entire second half of the Eucharistic Prayer! I'm guessing that at any other given Mass, he would not have done so. But more disturbing than that illicit slip was this: Despite the fact that the sanctuary had kneelers, no one knelt during the Eucharistic Prayer.

The Our Father and the Sign of Peace were complete chaos. The kids ran around the sanctuary to find their BFFs to stand next to, and then went all over again to give the Sign of the Lack of Peace. I declined to give it to one girl who was "making the rounds."

I mentioned Father didn't distribute the Eucharist. The EMHCs did . . . using crystal glass to hold the Body and Blood of Christ, which is expressly forbidden:

“...Reprobated, therefore, is any practice of using for the celebration of Mass common vessels, or others lacking in quality, or devoid of all artistic merit or which are mere containers, as also other vessels made from glass, earthenware, clay, or other materials that break easily. This norm is to be applied even as regards metals and other materials that easily rust or deteriorate....” (Redemptionis Sacramentum, Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments)

There was no closing prayer, but there was 10 minutes of announcements. And then the congregation gave itself the doxology!

Bottom line: This Mass had all the reverence of a Miley Cyrus concert. And is it any surprise why so many Catholic teens transition to their twenties and fall away from the Church because they discover to their horror it's not like they thought it was at their precious Sunday afternoon pseudo-Masses?

Now, I'm not bashing the whole parish here: it looks like it's on the right track in many other ways. But Youth Masses really do Catholic youth a disservice, telling them the Mystery of the Sacrifice of the Mass really isn't for them unless it's packaged like a Disney Channel show. Why do so many well-meaning parishes give them a counterfeit liturgy?

Of Dolphins and Cell Phones

2009-09-16T23:05:00.000-07:00

I have no idea who the lady snorkeling with a dolphin in this photo is. This is from our honeymoon in Key Largo when we visited Dolphins Plus. She was in the first group, and we were in the second.

It was fantastic swimming with the dolphins in an untrained environment. I dove under to chase a small pod of them, and then they all turned around on a dime and came back at me! I think they did it just to see what sort of reaction I'd have in my heart rate and blood pressure; their sonar allows them to see that. One of the stories we were told was six or seven dolphins once gathered around the waist of one woman. They could see she was pregnant before she knew she was!

Anyway, the woman above was in her late 70s or early 80s. After the 20-minute swim, she said, "I didn't see a single dolphin!" We all pointed out the dolphins paid more attention to her than anyone else in her group. But she didn't know because she was looking straight down. They were all around her!

I do that with my spirituality a lot. I get tunnel vision about how God should work in my life.

Fast forward to last Friday. LC and I went to Western Village Casino for a nice inexpensive dinner at the Vineyard restaurant, and then hit the slots. I fared surprisingly well.

On the way home, I noticed something: my cell phone was gone. I drove back and looked at every machine where I'd played, praying to St. Anthony for his intercession as I did so. Nothing. I called the next day. And the next. And the next. No phone. LC canceled service to the phone. I felt like St. Anthony let me down; I really believed the phone would turn up.

So I punted on Monday and bought a new phone, which fortunately has the same number as the old one. One good thing about this phone: it's smaller and fits in my pocket quite nicely. Every time I've lost a phone, it's happened when I had it on my belt . . . or, as happened Friday night, when I didn't have a belt, but just put it on my waist.

Then it hit me: God gave me the money to get the phone . . . in cash! Duhhhh. I was like the woman with the dolphins, looking in only one direction. God really does work in mysterious ways.

Ten Years And Counting

2009-09-12T01:16:00.001-07:00

Since I was last in government service. My final day was September 1, 1999.

While I made some good friends who remain so to this day, I really don't miss government. I could have been there for the next 20-plus years, hating every minute of it. I knew people not much older than me who were literally counting the days until retirement. There's no amount of money that could make me do that.

And what I hated most is it didn't play to my strengths: creativity, spontaneity, humor, extroversion. I can do all that in my current broadcasting career. Oh, I could have stayed and been mediocre; government rewards mediocrity and punishes risk takers. But I was starting to dread going to work, and knowing I didn't belong just weighed me down all the more.

I definitely got paid more -- a lot more -- in government than I have since, with the exception of my six months as a contractor, ending in an unceremonious layoff as the dot-com bubble burst and Y2K became a distant memory. But I don't want golden handcuffs today.

Oh, I wouldn't mind being happy and well paid in my work. But if I have to choose between the two, I'll take happy.

New and Better Countdown Clock

2009-09-12T01:13:00.000-07:00

Until President Zero (h/t: Joe of St. T) and his autocratic ways are safely escorted from the White House. It's on the sidebar.

And the Children Shall Lead . . . Us To Gomorrah

2009-08-28T22:31:00.000-07:00

The homosexualists are totally in control of the educational establishment. (Remember the staircase back here?)

Today I saw a horrible PSA advocating the eradication of the expression "That's so gay," as if that's the worst thing our kids say or hear said every day. What, no PSAs about not saying the N-word?

Turns out this PSA was produced by the Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network (GLSEN), whom the courageous Peter LaBarbera with Americans for Truth about Homosexuality has been exposing as trying to get an extremist, pro-homosexual viewpoint into our schools. Take, for example, how GLSEN had no shame whatsoever in being graphic with minors at a university forum about "fisting" (NSFW).

What really saddens me is how kids, when they should be being encouraged to use critical thinking, are really just being indoctrinated, getting only one side of the story about homosexuality (and not one word about health risks). They don't take on faith everything the government says, do they? And the schools are letting the mighty Sodomy Lobby represented by folks like GLSEN bully them around. I mean, how dare any student say he or she thinks homosexuality is vile, disordered, a mental problem, or just plain wrong? We're all equal now in this relativistic society. ~~Tolerance~~ Permissiveness is the highest virtue.

I've talked to teens, and whereby they have no problem rejecting the faith of their youth, they'll just as easily accept everything the homosexualists spoon-feed them. So sad.

How did it all begin? The story of my spirituality

2009-08-16T00:38:00.000-07:00

Part One of a series

After we returned from the UK in 1972, my parents got involved in a prayer group at their church, and then were directed to a local couple who led them in the Life in the Spirit seminar. From there, they started attending a prayer group called "God's Dwelling" in a parish on the other side of Baltimore, which was ironically my father's boyhood parish.

While my Catholic faith hadn't meant that much to me up to that point (I was 8 or 9), I remember being touched emotionally by certain music pieces, notably a song by the Medical Mission Sisters (whom, sadly, need to be told it's no longer the '60s) and the Godspell tune "Day By Day", which our "folk group" would frequently play for communion. Next thing I knew, I was being taken to the other side of town for the prayer meetings. For a while, I was left in child care, then afterward I'd help myself to some of the punch that tasted like crushed St. Joseph aspirin.

Eventually, my mom and dad had my sister and me go through Life in the Spirit as well. What that was like for me was imitating my parents. Did I have the gift of "tongues?" I didn't know, but I'd heard plenty of other people do so, so I had an idea how to sound like it at any rate. Meanwhile, I started singing in my parish choir, as my older siblings had done. Yes, I was a soprano.

I eventually forsook the tumbling mats and games in the library and began going to the prayer meetings. A couple times, I'd burst out with a spontaneous Scripture, and I found that went over well with those in attendance. They'd all praise God and shout, but I knew this was really an affirmation of me. I didn't get as much of that as I'd wanted elsewhere, especially not in my Catholic elementary school. Most of that is a whole another post, but I will say I always craved being a lector too, and would pester my uncle -- an ordained deacon -- to give me an opportunity to do so. Most of that was self serving and attention grabbing. At the invitation of a classmate, I briefly attended a Sunday night youth group at a Lutheran church in my neighborhood, but I didn't really like it.

When I was 12, I found out we would no longer be part of God's Dwelling. Based on a "prophecy" that smaller groups should join up with larger ones in order to face the "dark times," my parents informed us we would now be part of a new group called the Lamb of God Community, operating out of Timonium.

To be continued

Healthy Shame

2009-08-01T20:02:00.000-07:00

Is there such as thing as healthy shame? I think so, but someone I know from the therapeutic community says no. I think this era of feel-good, nothing-is-my-fault therapy has given shame too bad of a name.

I wish the above-mentioned guy could have seen the mom today in Target whose shorts were shorter than those of her kids . . . and left the bottom of her bottom hanging out. That woman needs some healthy shame.

At Least He Wasn't A Priest

2009-07-28T21:07:00.000-07:00

Wonder if Monstah and her ilk will be so morally indignant about this guy? Naaah, he's 1) a Democrat, and 2) not a clergyman.

A leader among pro-abortion Catholic circles has pleaded guilty to two felony counts of compelling the prostitution of a 17-year-old girl.
Robert Eric McFadden, 46, admitted last Thursday that he marketed the minor for sex on the Craigslist website. The court dismissed five other counts of pandering obscenity and promoting prostitution.
McFadden's activity was discovered as part of an online sex sting operation conducted by police investigators in January. Prosecutors say that McFadden took photographs of a girl he had met in an online chat room before offering her services to others on the Internet as a "recommended" prostitute.
Sentencing is scheduled for August 20. McFadden could face up to ten years in prison.
[...]
McFadden has served in several capacities as a leading "abortion reduction" Democrat Catholic: he was the founder of Catholics for Kerry in 2004, and in 2005 was president of the left-leaning Catholics for Faithful Citizenship. In 2006, he was the spokesman for Catholics in Alliance for the Common Good, another liberal Catholic group that considers a nominee's stance on abortion negotiable in light of his or her position on other social issues.
[...]
Last year, McFadden wrote a letter the Knights of Columbus criticizing Supreme Knight Carl Anderson for instructing Catholics not to vote for pro-abortion candidates.
"Carl Anderson should resign as Supreme Knight so the good work of the Knights of Columbus can continue without the stain of partisan politics," wrote McFadden, himself a Knight. (Um, Anderson didn't make it partisan: YOU did.)

(HT: LifeSiteNews)

Taking Cues From Code Pink

2009-07-20T17:54:00.000-07:00

As a pro-lifer, I condemn the tactic of random pro-lifers -- even Norma "Roe" McCovey -- disrupting the Senate hearings for Judge Sonia Sotomayor by yelling things out from the gallery. But what mystifies me is how much support this tactic seems to have, as well as the belief that if you don't support this tactic, You Can't Be Pro-Life.

This is straight out of the ultra-lefty Code Pink's textbook, or Saul Alinsky's Rules for Radicals. Why should we be emulating them? Have they won more people to their cause? Why do we believe our side will accomplish anything more? Whose minds will be changed? The marches we have, for example, show a lot more strength than random misguided idiots (there, I've said it) yelling from a Senate gallery, even if the MSM ignores the marches.

I concede Judge Sotomayor will probably rule from a pro-choice position, but the reasons to oppose her are more obvious (her racial bias and her disbelief in the 2nd Amendment).

Sleep Apnea and TMJ

2009-07-17T11:17:00.000-07:00

I have known for years that I have sleep apnea and TMJ (temporomandibular joint disorder), but until I visited Reno's TMJ Sleep Center the other day, I didn't have a clue what it was doing to me. I've used a CPAP machine (which always gets intense scrutiny at airport security) and a mouth night guard to try to deal with it.

The purpose of a CPAP machine is to force air into my throat so I don't stop breathing while I sleep, which is essentially what sleep apnea is. It can be harmful or fatal if left untreated.

Even with the CPAP, however, I've often felt groggy, tired, and unrefreshed upon awakening. Some of that was because I rarely got enough sleep, especially in my last couple jobs where I had to start very early (5 or 6 AM). But ever since moving to Nevada, I felt even less refreshed, and I've had nearly constant headaches and neck pain. I chalked a lot of that up to my working overnights.

It turns out I'll probably have to start from square one with my treatment. For starters, the air pressure used from my CPAP is really only applicable at sea level, as was the case with my last sleep study in Maryland. But the air is considerably thinner here in Sparks at an altitude of almost 5,000 feet, so the sea-level setting doesn't go as far.

After checking me out, the folks at the TMJ Sleep Center discovered my jawbone lays almost right against my ear, especially at night. No wonder I have constant headaches in my temples! They also found as a result, my airway is roughly the size of a straw at night. No wonder I don't feel refreshed; I could have the air generated by the takeoff of a 737 going into me and it wouldn't make any difference! Finally, my night guard may be hurting me more than helping me.

Fortunately, it looks like the treatment involved won't require surgery, just a properly-adjusted CPAP and the use of special alplainces to get/keep my law in the proper position. I'm hoping other things start falling into place once that gets taken care of; the center tells me sleep apnea plays with my hormones, making me feel like I want to eat when I don't have to. I definitely want to be more active, but it's difficult when all I want to do is sleep. Just search on "I'm so tired" here in this blog.

I'll keep you posted on what happens. Meanwhile, I'm off to take a nap.

Who needs homilies?

2009-06-28T20:33:00.000-07:00

We went to [parish unnamed to protect the guilty] in the Baltimore area last week before heading down to Chincoteague, VA with our family for vacation. Father [ditto] decided since it was Father's Day, he wouldn't give a homily, but just a series of jokes instead.

He begged the congregation no less than four times not to write the Archbishop.

Naturally, I just sent my letter, citing the GIRM (emphasis added):

The Homily

66. The Homily should ordinarily be given by the priest celebrant himself. He may entrust it to a concelebrating priest or occasionally, according to circumstances, to the deacon, but never to a lay person. In particular cases and for a just cause, the homily may even be given by a Bishop or a priest who is present at the celebration but cannot concelebrate.

There is to be a homily on Sundays and holy days of obligation at all Masses that are celebrated with the participation of a congregation; it may not be omitted without a serious reason. It is recommended on other days, especially on the weekdays of Advent, Lent, and the Easter Season, as well as on other festive days and occasions when the people come to church in greater numbers.

And I'm sure he's not the only one.

UPDATE: Here's the Archdiocese's reply:

Your e-mail below was referred to me as the Director of the Archdiocesan Office for Worship. True concern for the liturgy and the life and love that Christ wishes to bestow on us in the liturgy are high priorities for the Archbishop and for me personally. I contacted Father ____ and asked him to explain the situation.

Father ____ shared with me that he did in fact have a homily on June 21, Father’s Day. It was shorter than his usual homily and it did contain three humorous stories all of which he sent and none of which involved Jesus playing golf. Father ____ used these stories to feature the care that father’s give their children. Then he related that to the care that to his primary focus, the God has for us, as was evidenced in the gospel where Jesus calms the storms. He has since received compliments on the homily, one of which he shared with me. While compliments do not ensure a good homily, he indicated that those who complimented him understood and appreciated the point about God’s care for us. I am sorry that you did not share this reception.
After examining the situation, I am confident that, while different in style even from his own usual homilies, there was no liturgical abuse at _____ Church on June 21, 2009. Father _____ is a good pastor who is familiar with and follows the rubrics as laid out in the General Instruction of the Roman Missal and the other pertinent documents. Father _____ also indicated that he greets people after every Mass and would have been more than willing to discuss this with you. Since you indicate that you return to the area occasionally, perhaps next time you may want to bring it up with him after Mass.

No, thank you. Quite simply, this priest lied. I will not attend his parish again, since he has no credibility with me anymore. And what a whitewash.

I will, however, pray for him.

Devastating Arguments

2009-06-07T23:19:00.001-07:00

Two of the best articles I've seen on why same-sex marriage is so wrong:

The Worst Thing About Gay Marriage by Sam Schulman (in short, no concept of kinship).

God, Gays, and Mayberry by Stuart Schwartz (some facts you'll never hear from Brian, Katie, or Charlie).

Stand firm, folks. Don't back down. Don't shut up.

Church Review: Holy Cross Catholic Community, Sparks, NV

2009-06-07T22:47:00.000-07:00

First of all, I'm inclined not to trust any parish that bills itself a "Catholic community." That's just so Spirit of Vatican II. Then again, so is this design, built in 2002.

At the sanctuary's only entrance, it has a Big Baptismal Font which has been the trend in many modern churches, with holy water located nowhere else that I could tell.

The sanctuary more resembles a chapel where one would go on a high school retreat. There's a magnificent view to the west toward Spanish Springs. Logistically disturbing was the sign I saw at the emergency exit doors: "Doors Will Open In 15 Seconds." That doesn't sound very fire code to me!

No pews or kneelers, only chairs. No one in the congregation that I could see genuflected toward the altar. No one.

I could abide these things if before Mass, the PA system hadn't been playing Indian sitar music. Had I known George Harrison was approved for liturgical use, I'd have started belting out "Within You Without You" or "My Sweet Lord." Doesn't help for meditating on anything other than Ravi Shankar.

Most people were failing to observe Holy Silence.

The lector introduced all the ministers of the Mass. As a friend once said, "You don't need to know the bus driver's name for him to get you where you're going." Then the obligatory "turn and greet those around you" (for no particular reason).

Most of the rest of the Mass was rather uneventful, except for the Prayer of the Faithful. Prayers to end war (okay) and Global Climate Change (wha-wha-wha-whaaa? Those folks seriously need to read this), but nothing about ending abortion.

On the upside, the bulletins weren't handed out upon entrance, but upon exit instead. Do people really need to meditate on what the Youth Ministry is doing next Wednesday night?

Summary: Your all-too-typical postmodern suburban parish that reeks of the Tyranny of Nice.

The Downside Of Term Limits

2009-05-30T08:53:00.000-07:00

You've got to hand it to the Republicans in the Nevada Assembly. Do any of them have backbones at all, or are they so afraid of Speaker Barbara Buckley and Senate Majority Leader Steven Horsford that they just follow along like sheep?

They eagerly voted along with the Democrats to override Governor Jim Gibbons' veto of nearly 800 million dollars in tax increases. Raising the sales tax is really going to work when sales are plummeting. If I wanted this, I'd have stayed in Maryland.

Now I expect bluster like this out of Governor-wanna-be Buckley: “Most of us agreed we needed new revenue…that we couldn’t cut our way out of the crisis, and we couldn’t tax our way out of the crisis.” Madam Speaker, taxing us out of the crisis is exactly what you've done! And do you really expect businesses to roll over and accept higher taxes without doing anything else? We're trying to draw businesses from California, not keep them there.

But this is about the caving of the Republicans. I don't know exactly how many fall into this category, but I know my senator, Maurice Washington, a Republican, voted for the overrides. Guess what? This is his last term because of term limits, so nobody's going to hold this against him. I hope he's proud of having his constituents foot the bill.

I was a supporter of term limits, but no longer. They undermine accountability on both sides of the aisle. The Democrats who have been term limited won't have to answer for their actions either.

And, Governor Gibbons has gone way up in my esteem. Unlike Bush 41, he said "no new taxes" and meant it. He was just the irresistible force meeting the immovable object . . . a bloated bureaucracy whose prime directive is self-perpetuation at all costs to taxpayers, businesses, anyone except itself. Bravo, Governor Gibbons.

Well, it could be worse. This could be California.

On the Upholding of Proposition 8

2009-05-27T23:24:00.000-07:00

I'm gratified. That is all.

Juxtaposition

2009-05-18T19:22:00.000-07:00

Got these two stories, one above the other, in my e-mail RSS feed:

Baltimore Plans $60K Study On Boulevard Construction

Baltimore To Cut City Fire Resources

So let me get this straight: The city will spend all this money to consider getting rid of a perfectly functional freeway to replace it with something that Looks Nicer for business? And is cutting fire resources in hopes of becoming Detroit?

I'm so glad I don't live there anymore.

Oh, yeah, the Preakness may be done there as well.

Defeating the Bullies

2009-05-16T06:35:00.000-07:00

One of the most mind-blowing articles I've ever read came from the American Thinker, called "Defeating Political Ridicule" by Kyle-Anne Shiver (hat tip: Jill Stanek).

Read it. I like it for several reasons:

1. It shows, once and for all, that Obama was, and is, a disciple of Saul Alinsky, a spiritual godfather of ultra-leftist radicalism. Actually, anyone who cared to discover that about Obama during the campaign could have found that out easily (yes, Big Media, I'm looking at you, who in your sanctimony made a bigger deal out of Bristol Palin). See the above photo, where Obama teaches Alinsky's Power Analysis.

2. Shiver explains how political discourse has fallen to the level where it resides now . . . the gutter. I'm not saying conservatives don't do it (Ann Coulter has made a career of it), but I'm convinced liberals do it more, and more than ever with the previous and current administration.

3. It drives a stake through the heart of current conventional thinking on bullying.

And I guess that's what I wanted to focus on the most. As a child, I was convinced the more I didn't give bullies what they wanted, the more they goaded me. It turns out I couldn't have been more wrong. In this article, Shiver shows more understanding of how bullying works than a PTA convention. And I have fallen for it, all my life.

Shiver points out that Alinsky knew this, and so does Obama. Why else is Obama busy demonizing car companies, credit card companies, and health care providers? And yet, Obama works extra hard to come off as a populist saint. He'll do no less when he speaks at Notre Dame tomorrow (which is less Obama's fault than the fault of ND, Father John Jenkins, and the typical modern Catholic university quest for prestige over fidelity and Catholic identity. Ex Corde Ecclesiae, anyone?), making it seem he's really not pro-abortion . . . when everything he's done and said indicates otherwise. (And all the Catholic left can say is, "where's the proof?" For those who do not believe -- or put their hands over their ears and scream -- no explanation is possible.)

Anyway, as a kid I simply did not have the moxie that the bullies did, nor could I read people as well as they. So, as Shiver demonstrates, they reveled in my reactions. Later, as adults, they could point the finger at me when I stooped to their level. Hence what Alinsky wrote in 1971:

The fourth rule of tactics: Make the enemy live up to their own book of rules. You can kill them with this, for they can no more obey their own rules than the Christian church can live up to Christianity.

The fourth rule carries within it the fifth rule: Ridicule is man's most potent weapon. It is almost impossible to counterattack ridicule. Also it infuriates the opposition, who then react to your advantage.

I used to be on a message board that I shall not name where I was routinely ridiculed for what I believed. I've now walked away from it for many of these reasons, and Shiver has helped me see I'm walking away a winner. I'm not playing the bullies' game anymore. I'm sticking to my convictions, and I'm not going to argue them to a bunch of people who couldn't care less about rational discourse.

I guess it's like what you hear on the Internet about spammers: "Don't feed them, and they will die." Easier said than done for me, but no less true.

Two Women I Admire

2009-04-28T16:53:00.000-07:00

Some latter-day heroes we can look up to:

Carrie Prejean, Miss California USA, and a winner in my book for telling morons like "Perez Hilton" to take his same-sex "marriage" and shove it, and is getting criticized roundly for her stance. As Mark Steyn said, "What's a 'gay' man doing as a beauty pageant judge, anyway?" She's got a bigger crown than she'd ever have if she'd won.

Mary Ann Glendon, who told Notre Shame and Fr. John Jenkins to forget honoring her at the same commencement where the university was going to ignore the last shred of its Catholicism and award an honorary law degree to the most pro-abortion president in history.

We need more women and men who are willing to stand up for what they believe, no matter what the cost. God bless you two for your example.

Donner Summit

2009-04-27T18:30:00.001-07:00

On Friday, I was going to Hayward, California, a city sandwiched between Oakland and San Jose on the east side of the San Francisco. But when trying to get anywhere from Nevada to Sacramento and points west, there's a small logistic that needs to be overcome.

Make that a big logistic, called Donner Summit. Yep, Donner, as in Donner Pass, as in the Donner Party.

There are only two practical ways to get from northern Nevada to California over the Sierra Nevada mountains. One is west from Carson City over Spooner Summit to the south end of Lake Tahoe, then down toward Placerville. That's Route 50, which ends in Sacramento (and begins in Ocean City, MD). The other is through Donner Pass, now traversed by present-day I-80.

I guess the Donner Party would have given anything to have the problem I had Friday morning. I had just gotten off my overnight shift, bought gas, and gotten some money, and was ready to head west. Earlier in the week, temperatures had been well into the 80s.

But that day, there was snow just west of Reno, those big, wet, and thick flakes. And it was snowing hard enough at Donner Summit that vehicles needed chains to get over it. There are many passes in the country that are at a higher elevation than Donner, but probably not as many that are as treacherous and fickle. And as far as I know, Route 50 was open with no controls, but that's a considerably longer route from Reno/Sparks. Finally, I don't cross the Sierra enough to warrant purchasing chains.

So I chose to have breakfast at Boomtown Casino in Verdi (rhymes with "where-dye") and wait things out, taking a brief snooze in my car afterward. With signs in the casino still saying "chain controls," I took a chance and got back onto I-80, and as I approached the summit, the clouds were breaking right over it! Wish I'd had a camera. And I had no further snow issues, but I did have probably the only car in the Bay Area with salt on it.

Unfortunately, a big rig had chosen that time to break down in the right lane, so it took me another ten minutes to get through the summit. Again, that would have been the least of the Donner Party's worries.

Footnote: When LC and I first visited the area in 1993, we both swam in beautiful, but chilly, Donner Lake. That lake is NEVER warm! She shivered just about the whole rest of that August night.

Acquiring Intelligence, Obama-Style

2009-04-20T18:27:00.000-07:00

Here's how we'll get information out of captured terrorists like Khalid Shaikh Mohammed et al. in the future:

We turn them over to the Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. (Naaah, someone will decide that's torture too.)

We never tortured anyone. What is this country coming to?

"Mr. KSM, we'll give you ten minutes to tell us what we want to know."
"And if I don't?"
"Well, um . . . we'll give you longer."

Regina Pacis Cantorum

2009-04-11T22:53:00.000-07:00

Over the past month or so, I have been singing tenor with Regina Pacis Cantorum, a traveling a cappella Latin choir throughout the diocese of Reno, and the only one of its type in the area.

I am so enjoying singing Latin chant and polyphony (many voices) at Mass again; for years, I sang more Latin with the Parkway Chorale (mixed chorus at my workplace) than I ever heard at Mass. Frankly, we need more of it, not less. Pope Pius X thought so too in his encyclical Tra le Sollecitudini (emphasis mine):

These qualities are to be found, in the highest degree, in Gregorian Chant, which is, consequently the Chant proper to the Roman Church, the only chant she has inherited from the ancient fathers, which she has jealously guarded for centuries in her liturgical codices, which she directly proposes to the faithful as her own, which she prescribes exclusively for some parts of the liturgy, and which the most recent studies have so happily restored to their integrity and purity.
On these grounds Gregorian Chant has always been regarded as the supreme model for sacred music, so that it is fully legitimate to lay down thefollowing rule: the more closely a composition for church approaches in its movement, inspiration and savor the Gregorian form, the more sacred and liturgical it becomes; and the more out of harmony it is with that supreme model, the less worthy it is of the temple.

The ancient traditional Gregorian Chant must, therefore, in a large measure be restored to the functions of public worship, and the fact must be accepted by all that an ecclesiastical function loses none of its solemnity when accompanied by this music alone.

Special efforts are to be made to restore the use of the Gregorian Chant by the people, so that the faithful may again take a more active part in the ecclesiastical offices, as was the case in ancient times.

4. The above-mentioned qualities are also possessed in an excellent degree by Classic Polyphony, especially of the Roman School, which reached its greatest perfection in the fifteenth century, owing to the works of Pierluigi da Palestrina, and continued subsequently to produce compositions of excellent quality from a liturgical and musical standpoint. Classic Polyphony agrees admirably with Gregorian Chant, the supreme model of all sacred music, and hence it has been found worthy of a place side by side with Gregorian Chant, in the more solemn functions of the Church, such as those of the Pontifical Chapel. This, too, must therefore be restored largely in ecclesiastical functions, especially in the more important basilicas, in cathedrals, and in the churches and chapels of seminaries and other ecclesiastical institutions in which the necessary means are usually not lacking.

I could tell you more about Regina Pacis Cantorum, but I'll let my esteemed director do so, courtesy of Be Present Faithful Catholic Apostolate:

Dear Friends of Our Lord and Our Lady:

For many years, Regina Pacis Cantorum (Queen of Peace Choir) has been serving both the Ordinary and Extraordinary Forms of the liturgy in the local diocese, singing the sacred music of Gregorian Chant and polyphony. These are the only forms of sacred music specifically recommended in the liturgical documents.

It would take too long to provide citations from the documents which provide the foundation for the choir, whose mission is:

“To foster and maintain the treasury of sacred music of the Roman Catholic Church.”

Regina Pacis Cantorum is also dedicated to the Immaculate Heart of Many. It has been our pleasure to sing for the closing Mass at the Eucharistic and Marian Conferences hosted by Be Present Faithful for all three years it has been held.

Faithful Catholics have learned over the years that anyone and any cause completely given over to God, His Church, and the Blessed Mother must certainly expect difficulty. Beyond doubt, this is our time.

This is NOT a plea for money!

Rather, it is for an even more precious commodity; your time and the sharing of the gifts God has given you.

We have lost membership over the past couple of years due to my adherence to the Pro-life message [I KNEW there was something I liked about her!]. There have been other losses due to opposition to Catholic moral teachings. One of the losses was especially hard to bear; that of our accompanist and my dear personal friend.

Since we are not “attached” to a particular parish, recruiting has been problematic. Most parishes will not run bulletin ads for us, thinking that it could detract from recruiting for their own musical needs. That is understandable.

So, I am asking simply this. Did God bless you with a good voice and musical ability? Will you consider placing those gifts at his service and help us in continuing our efforts to fulfill our Holy Father’s wish for a return to truly sacred music?

We need voices in ALL ranges and, if there is a generous soul out there who would donate keyboard skills for our efforts, I know there would be many blessings in store for you!

Rehearsals are on Wednesdays, 7 PM – 9 PM at Trinity Episcopal Church. If you would like even more of a challenge, the choir’s schola, Sursum Corda (Lift Up Your Heart), meets on Tuesdays, 7 PM – 9 PM at my home. For more information, please contact me at 345-6106 or via e-mail at bkreinh@gbis.com.

Please give this your prayerful consideration and be assured of my prayers and gratitude.

Pax Christi (Peace of Christ),

Kathy Reinheimer

President/Director

Regina Pacis Cantorum

Nevada 101

2009-04-03T15:25:00.000-07:00

For my East Coast friends. Let's start today's lesson.

This is Nevada. All together now: "neh-VAA-dah." No, not "neh-VAH-dah." "Neh-VAA-dah." Very good.

It's the seventh largest state; it could hold 10 Marylands. It's slightly larger than Colorado and just smaller than Arizona.

It was founded in 1864, hence the reference to "Battle Born" on the otherwise admittedly boring flag. But the state nickname is "The Silver State."

Who knows the capital of Nevada? No, not Reno. No, not Las Vegas. No, not the Palms (*whack*). It's Carson City, where a U.S. Mint used to be back in the Comstock's (area near Carson City) silver heyday.

Note where people live in Nevada. With all due respect to Ely (e-lee), Elko, and Tonopah, most Nevadans live in one of two areas: down south, in Las Vegas, North Las Vegas, Henderson, or Boulder City; or in Reno, Sparks (collectively known as the Truckee Meadows), or Carson City in the northwest. Since Vegas and environs have such a large population, they have two of the state's three Congressional districts. Congressman Dean Heller serves the whole rest of the state.

Note the distance of Reno and Sparks from Las Vegas, about 450 miles. That's about as far as Boston is from Washington, DC, but you're still in the same state. Needless to say, Reno and Sparks are not suburbs of Vegas. The nearest bigger city to Reno? Try Sacramento, 120 miles to the west over Donner Pass. In terms of the West, 120 miles is pretty close. San Francisco is about a four-hour drive from Reno.

Just southeast of Reno is historic Virginia City, which you may remember from the opening of "Bonanza." Of course, I don't know why they kept burning up that map. To the east is Fernley, which suffered a flood last year when canal levees broke; and Fallon, site of a naval air station that is the home also of the Top Gun aircraft. Out east, Elko is a small but fairly wealthy town, built on gold and silver mining.

Not on this map is Searchlight, a southern town between Boulder City and Laughlin that gave the world Harry Reid (John Ensign is our other senator); and Yucca Mountain, south of Tonopah and the designated repository for the nation's nuclear waste . . . maybe. And between Tonopah and Vegas is the famous Area 51, where extraterrestrials may or may not be hidden. Art Bell of Coast to Coast AM fame lives in Pahrump ("pah-RUMP"), where things go Pahrump in the night.

Most of Nevada consists of mountains and high desert. Both Reno and Vegas sit on the edges of the desert, meaning any precipitation that comes usually doesn't last long in the valleys (see also: Denver), but the mountains sure get their share. While it's routine for summertime temperatures in Vegas to reach into the 110s, it's rare for Reno temperatures to top 100, but it has happened. And when it snows in the valley, it's actually rare for schools to close for it.

Mountain snow is the primary water source for northern Nevada. Much of the snowmelt runs through the Truckee ("Trucky") River. As a result, even in late summer, most of the lakes and rivers in northern Nevada are quite chilly. But that's also what gives Lake Tahoe its deep shade of blue. Southern Nevada relies more on Lake Mead and the Colorado River for water, but so does Arizona, southern California, and other states.

Prostitution is legal only in authorized brothels in Nevada's counties except Washoe and Clark, where Reno and Vegas are respectively. Most locals laugh as visitors go off to those places. No streetwalking is allowed.

More than 85 percent of Nevada is owned by the federal government, whether as Indian reservations, national parks or forests, or just plain land. Not much happens on it, except for wild horses running across it. The Bureau of Land Management is arguably the largest federal agency out here.

While Vegas is still very much built on gaming, that industry is losing its foothold here in the Truckee Meadows, largely because of competition from Indian casinos in northern California. The area has lots of festivals, however: the Rib Cookoff, Hot August Nights, and the Reno Air Races, to name only a few.

Any questions?

Ed

2009-03-24T17:35:00.000-07:00

Five years ago, my dear friend Ed Leonard was found dead of a heart attack after walking and shoveling in a blizzard. He'd had some other health problems I won't go into here.

There weren't many like Ed. He was a fellow member of the Lamb of God Community, and at our "Community Gatherings," he played drums. Or, more accurately, he attacked the drums. He threw everything he had into playing them. He needed to wipe himself off between songs because of the sweat pouring off him. During one Gathering, the sound to the rest of the worship band cut out, so all anyone heard was him and pianist Jo Ellen. We decided Ed needed to cut an album titled, "Ed Leonard's Percussion Praise."

Ed had five other guys living with him in his house. If you went into his kitchen pantry, you would see stacks of foodstuffs, such as 48 boxes of Corn Flakes. Well, if he saw a coupon deal worth snagging, and there was a limit per person, he'd grab the other five guys and have each of them get their limit of boxes. With the Corn Flakes, they were eight to a customer, hence 48 boxes.

Here was Ed's food shopping hierarchy, as denoted by cable channels (which he didn't have):

HBO - Household Buying Obligation (Milk, bread, butter, the things you can't be without).
CINEMAX - Clear Incentive: Necessary Elements and More Are eXtracted (such as the a/m Corn Flakes). He also wanted to call this FANFARE (Free And Nearly Free: All Remaining Extracted), but it didn't fit the motif.
ESPN - Empty the Shelf Price Now! He had no qualms about emptying the shelf where applicable.

Most of his wardrobe came from thrift and second-hand stores. He had a closet full of short-sleeve Oxford shirts obtained that way, and he kept them hung according to color. I think he had about 10 blue Oxfords!

In the words of the (ironically enough) Swirling Eddies:

If you think of Ed today
You better keep him in your prayers
'Cause the Eds of this world
They are something rare!

And so I will:

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace. Amen.

Come In, We're Open . . . Now, Get Out.

2009-03-14T12:01:00.000-07:00

Cygnus' First Rule Of Retail:

If a store acts like it doesn't want your business, the worst thing you can do is give it to them.

You would think in an economy like this, the last thing a retail store would want to do is go out of its way to tell customers they aren't welcome and it doesn't want their business. But that's exactly what I encountered today.

Back east, one of my favorite places to look for used CD's was the Princeton Record Exchange. Thanks to LC, I found a rare CD by the Christian jazz supergroup Koininia called "More Than A Feelin'" while there. Check it out if you get a chance.

So today I ventured over to Recycled Records on Kietzke Lane. I found a few CD's I wouldn't mind having, although they mark them up quite a bit (all such stores do that). The guy behind the counter with the ZZ Top beard was saying "eff" every three words or so.

And then I saw the stickers. This was one of the nicer ones, and it went downhill from there.

By displaying such anti-Republican, anti-conservative messages so prominently, the message was loud and clear: "Mr. Cygnus, we don't want your kind or your money in Recycled Records. Get. Out." My response: "With pleasure."

Well, Recycled Records has the absolute right to display whatever messages or sell whatever stickers it wants, and tell half or more of their customer base it doesn't want their kind. And I have the absolute right never to trouble it with my business again.

I'm currently boycotting Pepsi and Frito-Lay for the same reason. And I haven't bought a pair of Levi's in eons.

What First Amendment?

2009-03-09T20:29:00.000-07:00

HT: BigSis, Adoro, Anita

What part of

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof

is Connecticut -- one of the 13 original colonies -- having trouble with?

Connecticut Legislature Moves To Regulate Catholic Church In Suspected "Payback" For Marriage Stance

For now, the measure has been tabled, but that doesn't mean it's gone.

As Anita points out, this legislation is the brainchild of one Tom Gallagher, who proposed this in a "Voice of the Faithful" newsletter. The "Voice of the Faithful" couldn't be more misnamed; it's a group of opportunistic dissident Catholics who use the clergy sex scandals as their platform to wrest the Church from that pesky Magisterium. Read this bunch of claptrap justifying their position as "adult members of the People of God."

Mr. Gallagher and company: If you want a democracy, leave the Catholic Church! But if you want to violate the First Amendment, you can't be much for democracy either.

Here vs. Back East, Part 3

2009-03-09T20:20:00.000-07:00

We got an unexpected snowstorm today, and one which dumped 2 to 6 inches on us in the valley, depending where in the valley you were; here, we have what is known as "micro-weather." Driving was precarious, and listeners were upset that we didn't have this information; our weather forecasts from the TV station were still saying "a chance of snow showers."

But as is the case with much of our snow, it was all but gone by mid-afternoon. True, it was the light, powdery type, but it still didn't hang around long. I wouldn't be surprised to see folks out playing golf on Wednesday, if not tomorrow.

Another Difference Between Here And "Back East"

2009-03-06T22:23:00.001-08:00

On Wednesday, some parts of the Sierra in the Lake Tahoe area got up to six feet of snow. Schools in the Tahoe and Truckee areas were closed.

The next day? Not one school even went in late! I doubt that would have happened Back East.

Love That Californica Democracy

2009-03-03T18:24:00.000-08:00

State Lawmakers Pass 2 Anti-Prop 8 Resolutions

So, let me get this straight . . . a vote of the people isn't a vote of the people if the legislature says so? Guess we have to coin a new term: "legislative activism."

It just goes to show there are no lengths to which homosexualists won't go to force acceptance of their lifestyle from those like me who know it to be abhorrent, disordered, immoral, and just plain wrong.

Then again, tolerance was never their aim in the first place. As evidence, check out this British Columbia "social justice" conference. This photo says it all:

And just let anyone dare say otherwise, including -- and especially -- parents.

My First TLM

2009-03-01T18:29:00.000-08:00

This morning, LC and I drove down to the Holy Spirit Mission in Washoe Valley for the Traditional Latin Mass, the first I've ever attended (after missing the turn and having to go another three miles before I could turn around!). It's a small church with only one Sunday Mass, and about 40 in the congregation.

Overall, I really appreciated the Low Mass, and found it a refreshing change from the irreverence of many Novus Ordo Masses (on Ash Wednesday, the priest at Our Lady Of The Snows had the second graders join him around the altar because he was "lonely up there." Wrong, wrong, wrong!).

Observations:

One complaint others have lodged about the TLM is that the congregation does not participate. This is true, if the only definition of "participation" is "responding out loud to the prayers." Instead, I felt more directed to participate by focusing my mind and spirit on what was going on, rather than having it spoonfed to me.
The reverence and mystery was awesome. Everyone genuflects . . . and means it.
I wish I could have been one of the altar servers.
I actually received the Eucharist on the tongue, kneeling, at the altar rail! That's the first time I've been able to do that since I was a teenager.
I loved hearing Latin hymns again.
Although I didn't partake, it was nice to see confessions being heard before Mass.
LC looked cute with her head covered.

I know I'm not going to be able to attend TLM every Sunday, but I look forward to doing so as often as possible.

Afterward, we celebrated with breakfast at Joe's.

Carson City Volksmarch

2009-02-21T10:03:00.000-08:00

The walk I took last Saturday in Carson City (the capital of Nevada, or did you already know that?) was a little tougher than advertised. There weren't any brutal hills or anything, but it seemed like it wasn't going to end. Indeed, it was 11 kilometers as opposed to the usual 10. But it's not like there was nothing to see, as my photos will show.

The first 2/3 of the walk took place on the west side of town out near the foothills. The rest wound through downtown by the state complex and other historic sites.

Check out the pics here (it's a lot easier than uploading them on this blog).

Post Of The Week

2009-02-21T07:28:00.000-08:00

From Adoro Te Devote. Read it, live it, love it:

Enemies of the World

"If the world hate you, know ye, that it hath hated me before you." --John 15:18

(I haven't been posting as much lately because of work, Facebook, etc.)

What's In The Porkulus Bill?

2009-02-14T00:15:00.000-08:00

Lots of YOUR money going to finance God only knows what. Except now you can know via StimulusWatch.org.

Gotta love that $99,000 in Mississippi for . . . door bells. Heck, you can get them from Home Despot for cheaper than that.

Sure need that $886,000 for a Texas disc golf course, don't we?

And how about that $600 million for a Forks of the Road Heritage Trail?

Keep telling yourself there are no earmarks. There Are No Earmarks. THERE ARE NO EARMARKS!

Doing nothing would have been better than this. In fact, Congress works best (no matter who's in control!) when it does as little as possible. The only thing worse than our economy right now . . . is our government trying to "fix" our economy.

Thanks, Senator John Ensign, for standing on principle. Why can't YOU run against Harry Reid?

No Further Caption Necessary

2009-02-10T21:02:00.000-08:00

HT: LifeNews.com

Three Bills

2009-02-08T12:36:00.000-08:00

I now weigh 300 pounds.

To say the least, I'm not proud of this fact. While I don't have a wide caboose, I have a pendulous belly. I'm pretty sure that's the main reason for the stress I feel in my neck and shoulders. If they didn't have this load beneath them, I'd probably feel a lot better. And that's not all the problems I have.

I could blame my overnight shift, my sleep patterns or lack thereof, or all sorts of stuff. But as my doctor out here said, "Your body doesn't care."

So I'm starting to exercise more, using the apartment complex's workout room in addition to walking around the marina. Eventually, I should start some weight training too. And I'd like to find a place to swim, since that doesn't hurt my joints.

I know folks who don't eat any sugar, wheat, or flour. I have to admit I can't conceive of doing that, but then again, someone must be able to do so. We'll see.

I've got some work to do, and I have to remind myself, IT WON'T HAPPEN OVERNIGHT. I appreciate your encouragement and support.

Fight FOCA

2009-02-01T20:25:00.000-08:00

I'm grateful for how forcefully the priests in the Diocese of Reno have come out against the Freedom of Choice Act, the signing of which Barack Obama told Planned Parenthood would be his first act as President. As a result, we Catholics are inundating the offices of Senator Harry Reid, Senator John Ensign, and Congressman Dean Heller with post cards urging them not to pass this measure which would roll back all state restrictions on abortion, from waiting periods to parental notification to conscientious objection. It would codify Roe v. Wade as the law of the land. I was so pleased to hear the priests at St. Thomas Aquinas Church speak so forcefully against FOCA from the pulpit, I applauded them . . . even though applause is inappropriate for Mass.

Why do we have to do this? Because to Obama and the vast majority of Democrats, killing babies is a right. How much more evidence do we need to show how anti-life this President is? More than those who voted for him -- especially Catholics -- want to hear.

On Father Z's blog is a note from a congressional staffer who thinks Obama could be luring us pro-lifers into a "FOCA trap." The President could be using the Bill Clinton triangulation ploy of promoting something so extreme, then opposing it and appearing moderate, only to quietly pass increments of the anti-life agenda.

Looking at that link above from Obama's own website, the staffer's argument could be supported in that Obama was saying those things -- and his promise to PP -- just to get elected. But I don't think so. He believes he has the mandate to make all this happen, and if he can finagle a way to get a filibuster-proof majority in the Senate, he can pass pretty much anything he wants. He wants FOCA passed so he can "end the culture wars," which must never end as long as innocent babies are slaughtered every day.

I also call upon the Republicans in Washington to ignore the calls for "unity" at any cost now that The One is President, and stand firm in what they know to be right. For years they've fallen into a different trap, the one of If We're Nice To Democrats, They'll Like Us. It hasn't happened until now; why should the next time be any different?

Fight the good fight, folks. Fight FOCA.

The Cat Ate My . . . Earbuds

2009-01-30T18:00:00.000-08:00

Today, I strolled over to Target and bought my 4th set of earbuds since I got my MP3 player. Reason? My cats keep eating the wires on the other ones! They think anything resembling a string is a mouse tail. Never mind that they've never seen a mouse, except as a toy.

But? I love 'em to death. Gregory has taken to attacking my feet and laying on his back in the process. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was in heat. Basil is getting huge, and his coloring is deeper and richer by the day. They'll be six months old on Feb. 8. Photo here.

West Coast Walk For Life 2009

2009-01-26T15:52:00.000-08:00

Only a few hours after Barack Obama decided we needed to export tax dollars to groups that know better than anyone else that abortion is the only way to save the rest of humanity from itself, LC and I boarded a bus in Reno that took us to San Francisco for the Walk for Life West Coast. It was about a four-hour ride, and we began reciting the Rosary as we approached the Bay Bridge.

It was a gray, overcast day, but it didn't rain. We joined about 30,000 peaceful but enthusiastic protesters on the east end of the Embarcadero and heard some great speeches, including from Karen Shablin of Feminists For Life whom we would later meet on the walk. The new archbishop of San Francisco ws there, while Cardinal Mahony of Los Angeles was conspicuous by his absence. Singer Diana Nagy gave her powerful testimony of how she chose (there's that word) to bring her son into the world . . . and then she introduced him to us! But the most stirring testimony was that of Reverend Clenard Childress, who told us of the impact abortion was having on the black community; over 1/3 of all abortions are African-American babies. Think Obama realizes that?

Sadly, there weren't that many blacks in the crowd; we'll need them on our side to carry the message to the victims of abortion who wouldn't hear it from us. But there were plenty of Latinos and Filipinos, and a huge number of teens. I was really encouraged by that, and I pray their fervor doesn't get plucked off in college or otherwise.

So the march began, and we crammed into the MUNI walkway on the Embarcadero accompanied by a group of young bagpipers and drummers. In the march were Latino groups sing songs and playing drums, as well as several groups praying the Rosary.

I only saw about a hundred or so counter-demonstrators, mostly chanting the same sing-song chants their mothers and grandmothers were singing in the 60s, although there were more of them back behind us during the rally. They? Were exclusively white and between college-age and mid-30s; so much for diversity. I was more amused than rattled by them, and I pray that somehow, in some way they never imagined, their spirits were touched by our quiet resolve, by God's love operating through us. They're not bad people; God loves them every bit as he does LC and me. They're just misguided and committed to a lie. I just wish some of them could express their opinion without profanity, but I guess that's a bit much to ask.

Signs of the day:
"Women Deserve Better Than Nancy Pelosi" (of course, I'm originally from her hometown)
"Your Ovaries NEED Our Rosaries"

It was a long walk that took us about three hours, going all the way up the Embarcadero past Pier 39 and Fisherman's Wharf where tourists looked at us somewhat curiously. Then we headed up and down several short hills as we marched through Fort Mason and then disbanded at Marina Green. We opted not to partake of the various vendors and headed back to our bus, whuch wasn't a short walk either. Props, by the way, to the San Francisco Police, who were most cooperative and helpful all the way through the walk, even to our buses.

It would be about another hour and a half before our bus set out across the Golden Gate Bridge. As I've said before, San Francisco is a gorgeous city, but the biggest problem with it is that it's in San Francisco.

We worked our way north through Marin County, then headed east on Route 37 across the North Bay to hook up with I-80 again in Vallejo. We passed through Sacramento, then the fun started as we headed up into the Sierra Nevada in a decent snowstorm. The bus driver didn't have to put chains on, but he did have to go slowly to keep us from skidding. He couldn't get back to normal speed until after Truckee. The return trip took five hours.

LC and I were exhausted from the walk, the bus rides, and the excessive heat on said bus. We had dinner at Straw Hat Pizza, then went home. I was in bed by 10:30 and didn't wake up until 11 Sunday morning (we went to 5 PM Mass, which will be a separate post).

Props also to KTVU Channel 2 which gave a pretty fair report of the day's proceedings.

I've rarely felt more proud to be a pro-lifer, but I know I have to do more.

Sorry, We're Closed

2009-01-20T20:37:00.000-08:00

When I look back over the jobs I've had, I find a disturbing trend: Most of the places I've worked for no longer exist.

I thought about this especially when I learned that XM Satellite Radio (now Sirius XM) showed all its Traffic and Weather reporters the door last week. I worked for XM Traffic and Weather for two years, and really enjoyed my time there; we had a lot of fun together, and the facilities were great, for the most part. I certainly hope the reporters can find new jobs, although I doubt there's much of a future at Sirius XM, which at last check was trading at 12 cents a share. I love the concept of satellite radio, but I'm just not willing to shell out $13 a month for it, especially when my commute is now too short to warrant it. Satellite radio could be a distant memory within the year.

Anyway, let's look back over my career. I'm not counting temporary jobs:

Baltimore Sun collections and delivery for Gene Slater, a subcarrier. He gave up the business in 1981.
Dishwasher for Blue Bowl Bakery. Closed after the ovens blew up, and was a laundromat last I knew.
Bus boy for La Fontaine Bleu. While the franchise still exists, its East Baltimore locations where I worked are long gone.
Vendor, Memorial Stadium (I got to see the Orioles in their last World Series appearance, as well as the last Baltimore Colts game ever!). Torn down in 2001.
Sales assistant, Clover Furniture. Now a bingo hall.
Sales, Watson's Bull Roast, Harborplace. Closed maybe a year after I left.
Sales and parts associate, Montgomery Ward Automotive. The store closed in the early 90s, and the chain went under in 2001, although it still exists online.
Computer consultant, Loyola College. The school may still have consultants, but I bet its VAX 11/780 has long since been recycled.
Insurance representative, Eastern Aviation and Marine Underwriters. Underwent a couple of reorganizations and buyouts, and otherwise no longer exists.
Defense Department. Somehow, it exists without me. :-)
Keane Federal Systems, government contractor. Still exists, but the Columbia, MD office I worked out of is no more.
Gateway Country Store, Annapolis. All Gateway stores closed in 2004, and the company is a shell of its former self.
WJRO-AM 1590, Glen Burnie. Was a Gospel station, but is now known as WFBR and plays ethnic programming.
WSBA-AM 910, York, PA; and WFMD-AM 930, Frederick, MD are both still in business.
XM Traffic and Weather. Closed up shop last week.
Traffic.com, Silver Spring, MD. Still in business.
Luke's Pizza Company, Frederick. Closed the week after I left.
Vocelli's Pizza, Frederick. Still in business.

I hope my current job doesn't find out! =:-o

Pittsburgh Has Our Number

2009-01-20T18:11:00.001-08:00

I'd like to see a Baltimore team win just ONE postseason game or series over a Pittsburgh team. Since 1971, we're 0-6.

1971: Roberto Clemente's home run proved to be the difference in Game 7 as the Pirates beat the Orioles in the World Series.
1975: Bert Jones was leading the Colts deep into Steelers territory late in their playoff game at Three Rivers Stadium when he was sacked. Andy Russell ran the ensuing fumble back 95 yards for a touchdown in a 21-10 victory.
1976: At Memorial Stadium, the Steelers blew out the Colts, 40-14. In a strange way, it was a good thing they did so, because shortly after the game, a single-engine plane crashed into the upper deck of the stadium. Had the game gone into overtime or the Colts had won, there could have been many more injuries or fatalities. As it was, only the pilot was hurt.
1979: Up 3 games to 1 over the Pirates in the World Series, the Orioles would score only two more runs over the last three games. Like Clemente, Willie Stargell hit a home run in Game 7 to wrap it up. I remember crying in my bed at age 14 over that one. I still hate the song "We Are Family" to this day.
2002: Having beaten the Dolphins, the Ravens came into Heinz Field for the divisional playoff and were thoroughly outplayed by the Steelers, 27-10.
2009: Troy Polamalu's interception of Joe Flacco and return for a touchdown snuffed out the Ravens' comeback bid in a 23-14 Steelers win.

I mean, it's just not FAIR!

Ironic quote of the day

2009-01-19T22:28:00.000-08:00

"Isn't it wonderful to have a president who will put women and children first?"

--Nancy Pelosi, at a pre-~~coronation~~ inauguration dinner hosted by the pro-abortion group EMILY's List (HT: LifeNews.com)

Congrats, Squealers Fans

2009-01-18T19:25:00.000-08:00

Dear (oh, all right) Steelers Fans,

Well, you beat us three times this year (one of which I still question), which I guess qualifies you for a Super Bowl. But, let's face it, Ben Roethlisberger made the plays, and Joe Flacco didn't. Troy Polamalu made his plays, while Ed Reed was nowhere to be found (off covering the rest of the world, I guess). And we turned the ball over more than you did.

You will have your hands full with Arizona, although I never thought the football gods would let a Bidwill-owned team into the Super Bowl. Kurt Warner knows how to win, and Larry Fitzgerald will give you fits. It should be a good game. Hope so, anyway.

Yeah, you have your blessed National Following; there's even hordes of Steelers fans here in the Truckee Meadows, while LC and I are still looking for another local Ravens fan. Well, we Ravens fans neither have, need, nor want a National Following. (Don't tell sports talk radio hosts about the fact that almost any road game is a home game for you guys because of your fan base in every NFL city; let them all think 40,000 of you travel from Pittsburgh to every game.)

One thing is for sure: We'll be playing you twice every year. Maybe we'll split. Maybe you'll sweep us like this year. Maybe we'll sweep you like 2006. But. We'll beat the tar out of you one way or the other. And you will to us.

That's what makes this rivalry great.

See you next year,

Cyg

P.S. WTG Ravens on a season no one expected from a rookie coach and a rookie QB. Least of all, me.

Pro-Life Rally and President Bush

2009-01-17T23:26:00.000-08:00

LC and I attended the annual Reno Choose Life Rally and Life Chain today. It was great to hear the encouragement of those who are organizing the grass roots pro-life effort here in Nevada. The keynote speaker was Olivia Gans of National Right To Life. We then stood along South McCarran Blvd. with our pro-life signs. The only thing I'd change is that I wish it was silent, like the life chain we attended in Frederick. The ladies "woo-hoo"-ing every time a car honked was a bit intolerable after a while. If the unborn's voices are silenced, can't we be silent too?

I'm looking forward to next week's West Coast Walk for Life.

This coming week, we swing from the best President the pro-life movement ever had in George W. Bush to perhaps its greatest adversary ever in Barack Obama, who owes his election in no small part to Catholics who were either ignorant of his anti-life credentials or just didn't care about them in the voting booth. I'll say it again: despite his overspending and his lack of knowledge about the illegal immigration problem, had Bush been running against Obama, I'd have voted for him.

Thank you, President Bush, for keeping us safe after 9/11, for taking out Saddam Hussein, and for standing up for life.

And I pray for a change of heart in Barack Obama.

Oh, No, They Didn't!

2009-01-12T22:54:00.000-08:00

We went to the 5 PM Mass yesterday, which I guess is the LifeTeen Mass. I kid you not, this was the OFFERTORY song. Well, if Marty Haugen can write liturgical music, so can Garth Brooks (or whoever wrote it for him):

You know a dream is like a river
Ever changin' as it flows
And a dreamer's just a vessel
That must follow where it goes
Trying to learn from what's behind you
And never knowing what's in store
Makes each day a constant battle
Just to stay between the shores...and

I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry
Like a bird upon the wind
These waters are my sky
I'll never reach my destination
If I never try
So I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry

Too many times we stand aside
And let the waters slip away
'Til what we put off 'til tomorrow
Has now become today
So don't you sit upon the shoreline
And say you're satisfied
Choose to chance the rapids
And dare to dance the tide...yes

I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry
Like a bird upon the wind
These waters are my sky
I'll never reach my destination
If I never try
So I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry

There's bound to be rough waters
And I know I'll take some falls
But with the good Lord as my captain
I can make it through them all...yes

I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry
Like a bird upon the wind
These waters are my sky
I'll never reach my destination
If I never try
So I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry

Yes, I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry
'Til the river runs dry

"Hey, it mentions the Lord! Let's sing it!"

The communion hymn wasn't much better, Twila Paris' "Make Us One" (last I checked, she wasn't Catholic either):

Make us one, make us one
Make us one, undivided body
Make us one, make us one
For the sake of Your name make us one
Make us love, make us love
Make us love so the world will know we love You
Make us love, make us love
For the sake of Your name make us love
Make us pure, make us pure
Make us pure and righteous. make us holy
Make us pure, make us pure
For the sake of Your name make us pure
Make us one, make us one
Make us one, undivided body
Make us one, make us one
For the sake of Your name make us one
For the sake of Your name till You come
For the sake of Your name make us one

I was singing to myself, "Make it STOP!"

Bowled Over

2009-01-11T23:19:00.001-08:00

This morning, I decided to visit the National Bowling Stadium here in Reno for the PBA Tour's -- er, make that the Lumber Liquidators PBA Tour's -- NBS Championship, shown live on ESPN.

The NBS is, well, a bowling stadium. Instead of looking down on a basketball court or hockey rink, the seats overlook 78 bowling lanes. I wound up in the nosebleed seats, but I could still see just about all the pins except the 7 on either lane. Plenty of folks in the stands had their NFL gear on; I would have had my Ray Lewis jersey, except it needed a wash from my wearing it in a smoke-filled room the night before.

The only bowler I had heard of before was tournament leader Walter Ray Williams, Jr., who was going for his 46th PBA title . . . far and away the most in PBA history. As it has done so for many years, the televised finals are a stepladder format featuring the top five bowlers. Numbers five and four square off head-to-head, then the winner plays number three, then that winner plays number two, and then that winner plays number one for the championship.

So in the battle of five versus four, Patrick Allen beat Bill O'Neill in a not too interesting match, 218-200. Then Allen beat Chris Barnes in a strikefest, 267-236. Barnes had a chance to beat Allen, but in the 9th frame, he whiffed a 7-pin spare shot right into the gutter. Game over, man, game over.

In trouncing Wes Malott 268-215, Allen started off with seven strikes in a row, winding up with ten in all. This brought him to Walter Ray.

Allen jumped ahead, but the crafty 49-year-old Williams (who is also a master horseshoe player) kept up, and had a chance to win in the 10th frame with a strike working in the 9th. If he struck on the first two balls, it was over. If he went strike-9-spare, they'd be tied.

Williams threw a strike. Then in the first of his two extra rolls, he unbelievably left an 8-10 split. He fell on the floor as if he'd been shot. Allen ran halfway down the rest of the NBS. Even if Williams managed to convert the split (which he didn't), he'd have lost by one pin. The final read Allen 225, Williams 223. Allen took home $25K and a one-year tour exemption.

Oh, did I mention each lane had a different oil pattern, requiring different strategies for each one? That was a challenge, but the pros made it look easy.

I enjoyed it, and would go watch a PBA tournament finale again.

Pease Porridge In The Pot Pourri

2009-01-10T09:50:00.000-08:00

When we named Basil and Gregory, we knew we were naming them for saints. What we didn't know at the time was that they shared a feast day, which was last Friday, January 2; thanks to Bigsis and others who informed me! Furthermore, St. Basil had a brother who was also a St. Gregory . . . of Nyssa, which is the name of a cat owned by our friend, Da Queen! In this picture (which LC took with our brand new camera!), Gregory and Basil are now five months old.
If you're passing through the Truckee Meadows, we recommend John Ascuaga's Nugget as a fine place to stay after we spent a couple days there last week. The rooms are quite comfortable, the food selections are scrumptious (we enjoyed the champagne brunch on Saturday), and it's one of the few area resorts with a sizeable INDOOR pool!
I alluded below to how we spent last Saturday afternoon tooling around Virginia City. We especially liked two shops: one was a leather store in which everything was $20 or less, where we picked up a new hip pack and a belt; and the other was a retro candy store, where they had everything from root beer barrels to B-B-Bats to Zotz to SweeTarts. Mmmm.
On Thursday evening, we enjoyed a study of the Cathechism of the Catholic Church at our new parish. It's geared toward those becoming Catholic, but it's open to anyone in the parish. We read through the sections on the Sacraments of Confirmation and the Eucharist. One thing I couldn't reconcile: the CCC says confirmation is to be done by priests only for "grave reasons" (CCC 1313), so why is it that candidates for acceptance into the Church at the Easter Vigil are confirmed by the priest? I know the bishop can't be everywhere on the Vigil, so why not have him confirm the new candidates at a ceremony sometime during Easter?

You've Got Guts, Lady

2009-01-06T22:53:00.001-08:00

I HATE how people spend their time before Mass shooting the breeze just because they can. Hey, the Blessed Sacrament isn't exposed, so why don't we just go ahead and yak? Too often, the ushers are a big part of this problem of not keeping Holy Silence before the start of Mass.

On Saturday, following a nice afternoon in Virginia City (aside from one of Storey County's finest warning me about my tail light; bless you for not giving me a ticket, and we promptly replaced the light), we went to Mass at St. Thomas Aquinas Cathedral in downtown Reno, newly renovated and retrofitted against earthquakes. We sang the Mass parts in Latin (!), although it would have been better without the organ.

Before Mass started, a couple of ushers were chewing the rag in back of the cathedral. A woman a few rows ahead said "Shhhh!" rather loudly, but that failed to silence them. So she went back and (I trust) politely told them to Please Shut Up.

As she walked past, I whispered, "Thank you." May I be so bold as not to tolerate disrespect of the Mass. I'm sure she went home blessed, and I hope the ushers felt properly chastised.

TPIR: The Early Days

2008-12-30T21:58:00.000-08:00

I got home late from work this morning because I finally found a good barber shop here (thanks, Leroy!). Over breakfast, I was watching The Price Is Right, a show I don't get to see much anymore, but I watched WAY too much of when I was a kid. Drew Carey seems to have settled into the host role.

I started thinking about when the show first started in the 1970s:

It was originally called "The NEW Price Is Right" for a number of years. I think the prior edition dates from before I was born.
It was originally half an hour long, and there was no Showcase Showdown.
The showcases were well under $10,000 in value.
Johnny Olsen was the announcer. It was he who made "A NEW CAR!" his signature line. Eventually, he appeared in many of the showcase skits.
Every other prize was a grandfather clock, or a fur coat from Zinman Furs of Camden, New Jersey.
The prices of the cars that were given away all began with 2 as the first digit . . . and there were only four digits.
Hardly anyone in the audience wore specially made T-shirts. (Is TPIR becoming the next Let's Make A Deal?)
Bob Barker didn't have gray hair . . . yet.
Bob Barker hadn't had any affairs with the lovely ladies on the set . . . yet.
There was a syndicated nighttime version with Dennis James as the host. I think more recently there was another attempt at a weeknight version (no, not Bob Barker's prime-time specials) with another host, but it didn't last long.
I could swear a mini-submarine was once one of the Showcase prizes, but whoever guessed the price didn't come close to it.

Take a look around YouTube for some great TPIR highlights. My favorite is the woman who just couldn't grasp the concept of the Ten Chances guessing game. Bob Barker's reaction afterward is priceless.

And help control the pet population . . . have your dog or cat spayed or neutered.

Baby? Check. Bathwater? Check.

2008-12-29T18:45:00.000-08:00

Premarital Abstinence Pledges Ineffective, Study Finds

I have yet to find the actual study on which this article is based; if anyone finds it, please let me know.

I am soooo glad I'm not a teenager these days. When I was, no one was pressuring me to have sex (not that others weren't having it, nor that I didn't have opportunities), and I remained pure until my wedding night. The simple and unarguable fact is that abstinence works every time it's tried.

The proper question is not why abstinence is "ineffective," but why it's not being tried. I think the answer lies in this quote from the anti-abstinence faction:

"There's been a lot of work that has found that teenagers who take part in abstinence-only education have more negative views about condoms," she said. "They tend not to give accurate information about condoms and birth control."

Might the fact that condoms have up to a 14% failure rate have something to do with that "negative view"? Would you fly in a commercial airliner that had a 14% chance of crashing? But I think there's an easier answer.

Abstinence doesn't sell. Sex, and condoms, do. Follow the money. To me, there are many vested interests in kids having sex, not to mention the fact that the media rams it down their collective throats. And, way too sadly, often their own parents expect and encourage it. How much support do kids who make these pledges get from anyone, especially in the school system? (I would hope they'd get it from their churches, but maybe THAT doesn't even happen!)

One other thing: In this day and age of "childhood obesity," what if kids were taking pledges to become more physically active, but weren't doing so? Would we see a study or a headline saying, "Exercise Pledges Ineffective, Study Finds"? I doubt it.

UPDATE: Nice dissection of this study by William McGurn in the WSJ.

I Will Not Submit

2008-12-29T18:31:00.000-08:00

Bill Kristol tells me what I already know:

The assault on Prop 8 supporters has been extraordinary in its mean-spiritedness and extremism--but the left knows what it's doing. The purpose has been to intimidate people with an opposing point of view from defending their position. To be against same-sex marriage, even against the judicial imposition of same-sex marriage, is to be a bigot. [...] Making that charge is at the heart of the agenda of the gay lobby. They don't want to debate same-sex marriage. They want to demonize its opponents.

I guess I can count it a privilege that I've already been demonized. That's okay; I can handle it, and it's not changing my stance one bit.

Really, We Used To Sing This At Mass - I

2008-12-25T21:23:00.000-08:00

To be alive and feelin' free
And to have everyone in our family
To be alive -- in every way
Oh! How great it is to be alive.

####

(a Great Amen)

A-a-a-a-men, a-a-a-men, a-a-men

We come to join in your banquet of love

Let it open our hearts

And break down the fears

That keep us form loving each other

May this meal truly join us as one.

I hope I can find some more. Having my old Peoples Mass Book would help.

Quote of the day

2008-12-22T20:07:00.000-08:00

From my brother, although he may have gotten it from somewhere else:

2/3 of the earth is covered by water.
The rest is covered by Ed Reed.

Take that!

2008-12-22T18:59:00.000-08:00

I don't condone the motive, but I do enthusiastically applaud the effect of what these kids are doing; they're showing how speed cameras are for revenue first and safety/law enforcement somewhere down near 67th. After all, when would the police or the county reach that conclusion on their own? Furthermore, how can the county legitimately claim it's even your car anymore?

Local teens claim pranks on county's speed cams

As a prank, students from local high schools have been taking advantage of the county's Speed Camera Program in order to exact revenge on people who they believe have wronged them in the past, including other students and even teachers.

Students from Richard Montgomery High School dubbed the prank the Speed Camera "Pimping" game, according to a parent of a student enrolled at one of the high schools.

Originating from Wootton High School, the parent said, students duplicate the license plates by printing plate numbers on glossy photo paper, using fonts from certain websites that "mimic" those on Maryland license plates. They tape the duplicate plate over the existing plate on the back of their car and purposefully speed through a speed camera, the parent said. The victim then receives a citation in the mail days later.

Students are even obtaining vehicles from their friends that are similar or identical to the make and model of the car owned by the targeted victim, according to the parent.

"This game is very disturbing," the parent said. "Especially since unsuspecting parents will also be victimized through receipt of unwarranted photo speed tickets."

The parent said that "our civil rights are exploited," and the entire premise behind the Speed Camera Program is called into question as a result of the growing this fad among students.

The prosecution rests.

Update - Blob's Park

2008-12-21T10:01:00.000-08:00

I blogged back here that Blob's Park, the German dance hall between Baltimore and Washington, was closing. But it's still open! From a friend on Facebook:

Apparently there was a big family argument - some wanted to sell, others did not. Max, one of Miss Katherine's sons, somehow managed to buy the others out. He is in the process of renovating the place - updating the entire kitchen, the bathrooms, etc...nothing had been done in the hall for many, many years. So, the doors to Blob's either are opened now, or will be soon. In fact, my sister, Sue, is now one of the kitchen managers!

Good news indeed.