Monday, March 31, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Notice from Roger "Elu's" attorneys
30 March 2008
Dear Denizens of Abookshelf2.org:
We have the honor to represent Mr. Roger LNU, commonly referred to as “Elu,” who has been a part of the general Shelf Community since November 1997.
Mr. LNU has asked that we contact you to inform you of significant developments in his life. Owing to the death of his favorite Aunt, Ms. Myrtle LNU (who died recently at age 107 from a water-skiing accident on Lake Titicaca), Mr. LNU has inherited a substantial estate, including controlling interest in the Susquehanna Hat Company, arrable acreage, standing timber, several feldspar mines, a boomerang manufacturer and the leading tallow distributor of Namibia. Mr. LNU’s new-found responsibilities require that he embark on a Grand Tour of the world to manage this estate in the public interest. At Mr. LNU’s request, the undersigned has been appointed trustee of the Elu Trust, which has been established to establish a group home for recovering robbers, roues, rap “artists”, Republicans and other undesirables whose vocations begin with the letter “R”, and also provides for the care of abused squirrels.
Earlier this evening, Mr. LNU set off from the Port of Baltimore aboard a tramp freighter. Rest assured that he will not remain idle, but rather will act as Assistant Navigator, being one of the last accomplished practitioners of the science of Dead Reckoning. Indeed, Mr. LNU eschews the use of LORAN, GPS or any other instruments of navigation, save his great-grandfather’s sextant, a compass and a wind-up chronometer. As the freighter cleared the harbor, Mr. Elu tipped his Orioles cap at Camden Yard, and set off into the wide world with a song in his heart.
The “blog” commonly known as “Roger’s Meanderings” will necessarily be suspended for the indefinite future. A copy of this letter will be the final post placed thereon. Any news or opinions from or about “Elu” may be found at the blog of this firm, www.No3EquityCourt.blogspot.com. By copy of this letter to Sonya “Treesquish,” we are requesting that a link be placed at abookshelf2.org for easy access to that blog by anyone who retains any interest in Elu.
With continued good wishes, we remain,
Curry & Swisher, pllc
Attorneys and Barristers-at-law
Roger D. Curry, Partner
No. 3 Equity Court, the Outer Temple
Fairmont, by the grace of God, West Virginia
Dear Denizens of Abookshelf2.org:
We have the honor to represent Mr. Roger LNU, commonly referred to as “Elu,” who has been a part of the general Shelf Community since November 1997.
Mr. LNU has asked that we contact you to inform you of significant developments in his life. Owing to the death of his favorite Aunt, Ms. Myrtle LNU (who died recently at age 107 from a water-skiing accident on Lake Titicaca), Mr. LNU has inherited a substantial estate, including controlling interest in the Susquehanna Hat Company, arrable acreage, standing timber, several feldspar mines, a boomerang manufacturer and the leading tallow distributor of Namibia. Mr. LNU’s new-found responsibilities require that he embark on a Grand Tour of the world to manage this estate in the public interest. At Mr. LNU’s request, the undersigned has been appointed trustee of the Elu Trust, which has been established to establish a group home for recovering robbers, roues, rap “artists”, Republicans and other undesirables whose vocations begin with the letter “R”, and also provides for the care of abused squirrels.
Earlier this evening, Mr. LNU set off from the Port of Baltimore aboard a tramp freighter. Rest assured that he will not remain idle, but rather will act as Assistant Navigator, being one of the last accomplished practitioners of the science of Dead Reckoning. Indeed, Mr. LNU eschews the use of LORAN, GPS or any other instruments of navigation, save his great-grandfather’s sextant, a compass and a wind-up chronometer. As the freighter cleared the harbor, Mr. Elu tipped his Orioles cap at Camden Yard, and set off into the wide world with a song in his heart.
The “blog” commonly known as “Roger’s Meanderings” will necessarily be suspended for the indefinite future. A copy of this letter will be the final post placed thereon. Any news or opinions from or about “Elu” may be found at the blog of this firm, www.No3EquityCourt.blogspot.com. By copy of this letter to Sonya “Treesquish,” we are requesting that a link be placed at abookshelf2.org for easy access to that blog by anyone who retains any interest in Elu.
With continued good wishes, we remain,
Curry & Swisher, pllc
Attorneys and Barristers-at-law
Roger D. Curry, Partner
No. 3 Equity Court, the Outer Temple
Fairmont, by the grace of God, West Virginia
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
The start of Holy Week - The Via Dolorosa
Pastor Josh sang an absolutely haunting song, The Via Dolorosa, at the end of the Palm Sunday service. Here are the lyrics:
.
.
Down the Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem that day
The soldiers tried to clear the narrow street
But the crowd pressed in to see
The Man condemned to die on Calvary.
.
He was bleeding from a beating,
there were stripes upon His back
And He wore a crown of thorns upon His head
And He bore with every step
The scorn of those who cried out for His death.
.
Down the Via Dolorosa called the way of suffering
Like a lamb came the Messiah, Christ the King,
But He chose to walk that road out of
His love for you and me.
Down the Via Dolorosa, all the way to Calvary.
.
Por la Via Dolorosa, triste dia en Jerusalem
Los saldados le abrian paso a Jesus
Mas la gente se acercaba
Para ver al que llevaba aquella cruz.
.
Por la Via Dolorosa, que es la via del dolor
Como oveja vino Cristo, Rey, Senor Y fue
El quien quiso ir por su amor por ti y por mi
Por la Via Dolorosa al Calvario y a morir
The blood that would cleanse the souls of all men
Made its way to the heart of Jerusalem.
.
Down the Via Dolorosa called the way of suffering
Like a lamb came the Messiah, Christ the King
But He chose to walk that road
out of His love for you and me
Down the Via Dolorosa, all the way to Calvary.
.
.
I think that it translates as The Way of Sorrow (Suffering?).
.
I am annoyed at the false image that we so-called Progressives are somehow separated from God. And also at the hesitation of some to refrain from mentioning God, Christ, eternity or what-not, for fear of offending a Muslim/Jew/Buddhist/atheist/whatever. The First Amendment applies to us, too - a simple statement of faith is not pushing a religion on anyone, and it's neither establishing a religion nor "preventing the free exercise thereof."
.
People, READ THE MEMO: WE ARE ALL IN THIS LIFE TOGETHER.
.
Keep your powder dry. Pippa passes.
.
R
.
.
Down the Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem that day
The soldiers tried to clear the narrow street
But the crowd pressed in to see
The Man condemned to die on Calvary.
.
He was bleeding from a beating,
there were stripes upon His back
And He wore a crown of thorns upon His head
And He bore with every step
The scorn of those who cried out for His death.
.
Down the Via Dolorosa called the way of suffering
Like a lamb came the Messiah, Christ the King,
But He chose to walk that road out of
His love for you and me.
Down the Via Dolorosa, all the way to Calvary.
.
Por la Via Dolorosa, triste dia en Jerusalem
Los saldados le abrian paso a Jesus
Mas la gente se acercaba
Para ver al que llevaba aquella cruz.
.
Por la Via Dolorosa, que es la via del dolor
Como oveja vino Cristo, Rey, Senor Y fue
El quien quiso ir por su amor por ti y por mi
Por la Via Dolorosa al Calvario y a morir
The blood that would cleanse the souls of all men
Made its way to the heart of Jerusalem.
.
Down the Via Dolorosa called the way of suffering
Like a lamb came the Messiah, Christ the King
But He chose to walk that road
out of His love for you and me
Down the Via Dolorosa, all the way to Calvary.
.
.
I think that it translates as The Way of Sorrow (Suffering?).
.
I am annoyed at the false image that we so-called Progressives are somehow separated from God. And also at the hesitation of some to refrain from mentioning God, Christ, eternity or what-not, for fear of offending a Muslim/Jew/Buddhist/atheist/whatever. The First Amendment applies to us, too - a simple statement of faith is not pushing a religion on anyone, and it's neither establishing a religion nor "preventing the free exercise thereof."
.
People, READ THE MEMO: WE ARE ALL IN THIS LIFE TOGETHER.
.
Keep your powder dry. Pippa passes.
.
R
Monday, March 17, 2008
True and fantasy headlines I'd like to see - in the old-fashioned seriatim style:
In keeping with my curmudgeonly pique this evening, I offer the following which are either (1) true or (2) I honestly wish they were true. Perhaps this will be a continuing feature. Perhaps it's just me blowing cold flame. Coincidence? I think not.
MILLIONS OF STUDENTS SOBER, STUDYING, WORKING
- Student leaders: " 'Everybody does it,' my ass!"
- Book purchasing soars
- Take time for church, volunteer work
- Youth recognize the elderly as having had hard & honest lives
- News execs no longer say "If it bleeds, it leads."
BOTTLED WATER INDUSTRY COLLAPSES
- Surgeon General: "What kind of moron would buy it?"
- States continue to regulate safe tap water.
- Coke, Pepsi Board Members hurl selves from Midwest water towers.
- God promises: Rains will continue until further notice.
- President of France: "Damn, you finally figured out that Perrier tastes like bubbly piss."
BRITNEY ONLY ONE OF A MILLION
- Surgeon General: "There are at least a million screwed up young women out there."
- Major healthcare need finally recognized.
- Insurance executives hurl selves from Midwest water towers
- Microsoft offerring update to Word; "Britney" will be auto-deleted from the news.
SMOKERS ABANDON LAWSUITS
- Surgeon General: "About time - what morons!"
- Plaintiffs decide to accept personal responsibility.
"COP KILLER" BULLETS BANNED
- Made to penetrate body armor
- Have been available by mail order
- Wayne LaPierre: "About time. What the hell were we thinking?"
INSURANCE COMPANIES TO OFFER FAIR SETTLEMENTS
- Companies pledge to end lying and abuse
- Trial lawyers fail to hurl selves from Midwest water towers; too many people already there.
- Gecko, Guy with Deep Voice, Good Neighbor Agent, "Cave Men" all exposed as frauds.
CONGRESS ENACTS MINIMUM LIVING WAGE
- Two working parents to be able to live, raise children
- Chamber of Commerce admits that small business will prosper for a change
- Union bosses avoid the Midwest
PARENTS UNITE, BECOME GOOD EXAMPLES
- No longer preach abstinence of alcohol and get wasted on weekends.
- Apologize for acting like "buddies" rather than parents.
- Apologize to grandparents who had to step in to raise grandchildren
Keep your powder dry. Pippa passes.
R
MILLIONS OF STUDENTS SOBER, STUDYING, WORKING
- Student leaders: " 'Everybody does it,' my ass!"
- Book purchasing soars
- Take time for church, volunteer work
- Youth recognize the elderly as having had hard & honest lives
- News execs no longer say "If it bleeds, it leads."
BOTTLED WATER INDUSTRY COLLAPSES
- Surgeon General: "What kind of moron would buy it?"
- States continue to regulate safe tap water.
- Coke, Pepsi Board Members hurl selves from Midwest water towers.
- God promises: Rains will continue until further notice.
- President of France: "Damn, you finally figured out that Perrier tastes like bubbly piss."
BRITNEY ONLY ONE OF A MILLION
- Surgeon General: "There are at least a million screwed up young women out there."
- Major healthcare need finally recognized.
- Insurance executives hurl selves from Midwest water towers
- Microsoft offerring update to Word; "Britney" will be auto-deleted from the news.
SMOKERS ABANDON LAWSUITS
- Surgeon General: "About time - what morons!"
- Plaintiffs decide to accept personal responsibility.
"COP KILLER" BULLETS BANNED
- Made to penetrate body armor
- Have been available by mail order
- Wayne LaPierre: "About time. What the hell were we thinking?"
INSURANCE COMPANIES TO OFFER FAIR SETTLEMENTS
- Companies pledge to end lying and abuse
- Trial lawyers fail to hurl selves from Midwest water towers; too many people already there.
- Gecko, Guy with Deep Voice, Good Neighbor Agent, "Cave Men" all exposed as frauds.
CONGRESS ENACTS MINIMUM LIVING WAGE
- Two working parents to be able to live, raise children
- Chamber of Commerce admits that small business will prosper for a change
- Union bosses avoid the Midwest
PARENTS UNITE, BECOME GOOD EXAMPLES
- No longer preach abstinence of alcohol and get wasted on weekends.
- Apologize for acting like "buddies" rather than parents.
- Apologize to grandparents who had to step in to raise grandchildren
Keep your powder dry. Pippa passes.
R
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
911 pique
Folks, at least 100 people in Elu County are responsible for building our modern emergency response system, 911 plus all of the various departments. I am proud to have been one (and only one) of them. At least 100 people work somewhere in the system every day. You call, you get an answer in seconds from someone trained to handle the call.
Too many people either do not call 911 at all, or delay calling because they "don't want to inconvenience" the responders, or "aren't sure that the rescue squad [etc.] is absolutely necessary," or "don't want to make a fuss that the neighbors see."I cannot tell you how many thousands of hours, tens of thousands of hours, has gone into the 911/fire/rescue/police system in every county. Your tax bucks, fire fees, phone surcharges, insurance, etc., pay for the great majority of this whether you use it or not.
Consider being in a school building, standing by a fire alarm. You look down the hallway, and see smoke coming from under a doorway. What do you do?
a - Wait for more smoke so you're SURE there's a fire.
b - Go down, open the door (and possibly give a fire a blast of air that will get 'er going good).
c - Nothing - there's no flame visible.
d - Pull the fire alarm.
Answer: Well, it's obvious.
It is so sad for people in the system to hear about problems or tragedies which could have been lessened if only people had called 911. If your relative goes into cardiac arrest in your car as you are driving him/her to the hospital, there is NOTHING that you can do. My dear friend A. James Manchin (google him, he was a character and a wonderful guy) screwed around for over an hour when he started having a heart attack. He lived five miles from a manned rescue squad station, but no one called until he went into cardiac arrest. Would a 911 call have saved him? I have no idea. But it DEFINITELY would have given him a greater chance. Another quick example: A couple of weeks ago, my mom had a minor fall, and her oxygen line got disconnected. She couldn't get it reconnected. Fortunately, someone was home at our house to go over and help get the line reconnected. But if there had been nobody available, Mom would have been perfectly justified to call 911 and explain the problem. They prioritize calls, so if you have something (relatively) minor, someone else's need will not be met with a delay. They would have put the call out to the rescue squad or fire department (whoever was available in station or driving around) as a "public service" call. The fire departments and rescue squads don't mind public service calls. That's part of what they are there for.
Remember to thank these people. Send a tray of rigatoni from Muriale's to your local station unexpectedly. If there is a station close to your church, invite the folks there to come to special services, and assure them that you'll leave a space right out front to park the engine.
READ THE MEMO, PEOPLE: WE ARE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER.
Keep your powder dry. Pippa passes.
R
Too many people either do not call 911 at all, or delay calling because they "don't want to inconvenience" the responders, or "aren't sure that the rescue squad [etc.] is absolutely necessary," or "don't want to make a fuss that the neighbors see."I cannot tell you how many thousands of hours, tens of thousands of hours, has gone into the 911/fire/rescue/police system in every county. Your tax bucks, fire fees, phone surcharges, insurance, etc., pay for the great majority of this whether you use it or not.
Consider being in a school building, standing by a fire alarm. You look down the hallway, and see smoke coming from under a doorway. What do you do?
a - Wait for more smoke so you're SURE there's a fire.
b - Go down, open the door (and possibly give a fire a blast of air that will get 'er going good).
c - Nothing - there's no flame visible.
d - Pull the fire alarm.
Answer: Well, it's obvious.
It is so sad for people in the system to hear about problems or tragedies which could have been lessened if only people had called 911. If your relative goes into cardiac arrest in your car as you are driving him/her to the hospital, there is NOTHING that you can do. My dear friend A. James Manchin (google him, he was a character and a wonderful guy) screwed around for over an hour when he started having a heart attack. He lived five miles from a manned rescue squad station, but no one called until he went into cardiac arrest. Would a 911 call have saved him? I have no idea. But it DEFINITELY would have given him a greater chance. Another quick example: A couple of weeks ago, my mom had a minor fall, and her oxygen line got disconnected. She couldn't get it reconnected. Fortunately, someone was home at our house to go over and help get the line reconnected. But if there had been nobody available, Mom would have been perfectly justified to call 911 and explain the problem. They prioritize calls, so if you have something (relatively) minor, someone else's need will not be met with a delay. They would have put the call out to the rescue squad or fire department (whoever was available in station or driving around) as a "public service" call. The fire departments and rescue squads don't mind public service calls. That's part of what they are there for.
Remember to thank these people. Send a tray of rigatoni from Muriale's to your local station unexpectedly. If there is a station close to your church, invite the folks there to come to special services, and assure them that you'll leave a space right out front to park the engine.
READ THE MEMO, PEOPLE: WE ARE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER.
Keep your powder dry. Pippa passes.
R
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Relevance at the Barber; Jesus Meets Bernard Goetz and They Become Buds; and Other Fables
Friday, I was running around, going to the Courthouse, etc., and drove past the barber shop. You can tell what it is by the name of the establishment: “Barber Shop.” Simple. Direct. Informative. Not unduly flashy. My kind of place. Sometimes I wonder if I’m caught in sort of time displacement, and this place is the direct incarnation of Floyd-the-Barber in Mayberry. (Those over whose heads that cultural reference has passed are forgiven, so long as you forgive this humble scribe for his profound indifference to contemporary cultural “icons.”) Also, I’m reading a rather quirky novel at the moment by Wendell Berry, The Life Story of Jayber Crow, Barber, of the Port William Membership, as Written by Himself. Wordy title, quirky book, and I’m quite enjoying it. (The title is a touch of Rocky & Bullwinkle. I like Rocky & Bullwinkle.) Anyway, the Barber Shop is an endless inspiration for my meanderings. I parked right in front of the door, went in, and in my own quirky tradition wished a quiet “God bless all here” to the company. I do that in bars, too. At least, I think I probably still do, but it’s been rather a long time since I’ve been in a bar. There were several fellows in there, one of whom was holding a rifle. Now, I don’t know where that would be a common sight. Certainly, here in Our Town, it isn’t UNcommon. This was a nice little rifle, a .22 caliber, with some sort of curious sort of semi-automatic action that ejected spent brass without bringing another round into the chamber. Why anyone would invent such a thing is beyond me, but we live in the age of Transformers Toys, Mighty Putty, KaBoom and other stuff hawked by Billy Mays which makes about as much sense. It was an ordinary little rifle, and he passed it around, and while it’s ordinary, it’s always nice to see a well-made firearm. One of the fellows there was quite old, and talked about having “qualified” on an ‘03 Springfield, meaning that he was in the military a long, long time ago. Another fellow came in with his dog (not on a leash, quite a docile animal) and we proceeded to talk about dogs for a while. In my own continuing saga of idiosyncratic behavior, I got my already short hair cut to the length that is popular amongst law enforcement. I wonder why - I still have most of my hair follicles, and it’s mostly salt with some pepper, and I’ve kept it mostly long over the years. In the chair, five minutes, eleven bucks, and I’m gone. EluMama and I did a bit of furniture shopping, and I went back here to No. 3 and spent a quiet evening dictating stuff.
Church as usual Sunday morning, and quite enjoyable. As we were filing out, I asked Pastor Josh if he’d like to go with Bro. Dave and I to the Gun Show in the afternoon, for culture, commerce and politics. I think Josh was a tad taken aback - maybe he’d never been invited to a gun show? Well, the duality of a morning of Christian love with an afternoon of destructive devices was positively irresistable.
Yes, “destructive devices.” Firearms are weapons. The so-called sporting uses are either (1) violent or (2) to develop finer skills for the user to be violent in the future. They are lawfully used for hunting. That’s violent. I choose not to hunt, but I don’t condemn those who do. First, people close to me hunt and they are fine folks, and second, the meat in the meager meals I have didn’t come from animals who got depressed and committed suicide. Target practice is seldom a free-standing sport, and those who are serious about it are few and far between. It is not divorced from violence. Anything you do with a pistol is even more steeped in violence. Pistols are not useful for anything but to kill things, mostly people. Practicing with a pistol is to improve one’s skill, both speed and accuracy. Carrying a pistol is not done for sporting purposes. Carrying a pistol concealed is not sporting in any sense of the term, it is done so that one can employ deadly force unexpectedly when it is warranted. As long at the gun-loving community hides behind the “sporting myth,” we cannot have a genuine conversation about violence in our society and the presence of seriously bad actors who present situations where a violent/deadly response is legally (and morally?) justified. And that discussion needs to take place in the absence of loads of macho bullshit where people exaggerate the dangers in the world and their own willingness to pull a weapon and in the absence of denials that the bad actors are out there. Captain Reality, where are you?
Anyway, Dave picked me up at No. 3, and off we went to the local armory. Part of the building is secured and I presume that military stuff is kept there. The rest is a big open space used for basketball games, proms, and other public events. At the door, there were prominent signs: “Unload Your Weapons. ALL of them. This means you!” The entrance resembled the gunfight at the O.K. Corral, with lots of people slapping for holsters hidden all over to pull pistols, remove magazines and clear the weapons. Dave was not tooled up, which I commented was a poor choice. Walking unarmed into a public place where there are lots of firearms and hundreds of people, one or more of whom SURELY believes that he screwed them in a divorce, just doesn’t seem to me to be very on-the-ball. He was amused by my opinion. He and I toured around, chatting with people we knew, and he was handing out campaign brochures. I’d rather go to a gun show than a hooker bazaar, because I’m much more likely to buy something. I was sort of looking for a particular type of firearm, but when I found one, it was (1) too damn small and (2) too damn expensive. However, the local Guard unit was running some sort of raffle for the benefit of the troops, and that bled a bit of cash, without any hesitation. The sergeants who were selling the tickets were uniformed, and I idly wonder if that’s kosher in the military – not that I mind, quite the reverse, anybody who would object to that is wasting their time with trivia. As we talked with them, one of the sergeants thanked us (Dave ponied up a good bit of cash, too) and commented that people who support the troops also should be supporting the war. Well, this was a nice guy, and it was neither the time nor the place for a political debate, so I moved on. Right next to the Guard table was a table with three guys I didn’t know, but a Shrine Fez on the table. One of them saw Fred’s ring, and asked loudly how good a brother I was. This was all in fun, but also an obvious and straight-forward way to put the squeeze on me for more cash. Being a good sport, I simply asked how much seeing the brothers was going to cost me. Twenty bucks, it turns out, but for a pretty good raffle, something called a “gun club.” The idea of a gun club is that the sponsors arrange with a FFL holder (Clank, dealers must be licensed in the U.S.) to buy a bunch of guns, usually rifles and shotguns, maybe 20 or 30. Then, once a week for several months, they draw a ticket and give away the next gun on the list. Some of them are ordinary, and some of them are nice, and they are a good fundraiser around here. (They used to be a better fundraiser when they were illegal. Wes Ruby, the patron of Ruby Memorial Hospital in Morgantown, who was a friend of my Dad’s, made the Boy Scout Council a LOT of money in the 60's with gun clubs.) I was amused at one table where a fellow had some .22's with synthetic stocks. There was a matched pair of Dale Earnhardt, Sr. and Jr., rifles, and one small child-sized rifle that was no kidding pink. I thought that was a bit over the top. And let’s see - I found a handmade leather “scabbard” for the new cell phone I just got – The Blackberry finally pissed me off to the point that I got rid of it. And one vendor had a table of nice knives, including some American-made Buck knives, so naturally I HAD to buy one. (See some months ago my tirade on Buck moving production to China, where slave-labor reduces costs.) I’m honestly curious about the cultural accomodation made for implements of violence elsewhere. Perhaps the culture I’m doused in is unusual. I don’t have a context for comparison. Oh, one thing that does piss me off about gun shows is the presence of so-called “militaria,” usually Nazi shit like emblems, knives and so forth. Were I immensely wealthy, I would do the same thing some guy in Illinois did with John Wayne Gacy’s paintings, bought them all up and burned them publicly.
There was a sign posted behind one table that speaks to the extremism of gun people: “Let Gun Confiscation begin in West Virginia – It won’t take them near so long to get it out of their system.” Sigh. So many people equate regulation with confiscation.
One vendor (the one with the cell phone scabbards) was selling very nice handmade leather “possibles bags.” I wish those were stylishly permitted, it would make life a little easier. Sometimes, I feel like I’m supposed to be Batman or something with all of the gear I honestly need to carry on my belt or in my pockets.
It was kinda cool to be able to park far away from the armory and “glide” through crowds in the aisles. I have to internalize this stuff.
What is this fascination with the American Idol contestants, and how they emotionally react to winning, losing, and so forth? Why do we really care what the “judges’” opinions are? These are young people who sing well. Part of that is a gift from God. Part of it is that most of them have worked hard to develop that gift. But this is all a part of the bread-and-circuses that distracts people from taking some responsibility, facing the works of Captain Reality, and getting the odd satisfaction that, if they cannot deeply care about anything that matters, they can always form a hazy, internal attachment to the lives of people they don’t know. This, to me, is just another variation on the theme of a “spectator society,” where we are unwilling to interact with real humans, particularly when it involves any sort of unpleasantness. It’s also emblematic of the “celebrity society,” where we strangely care about who Oprah, yadda, yadda, yadda, want us to vote for. Why do we favor these “gifts”? There are so many others in society who have gifts that they have developed and so many, many others who have overcome obstacles to develop skills or knowledge that are actually useful. A young man at the church [whose father is a good friend, whose grandfather was a good friend and mentor (those who do not like that word, tough), and whose great-grandfather I knew slightly] has the gift of an ear for music and hands that will play a musical keyboard WELL, and he has spent LOTS of time developing that, rather more I would think than your average singer.
Hmmm - perhaps there is a post on what I consider useless people coming. Let’s see, number one and two would be astrologers and psychics.
Pastor Josh says that he intends to link my blog to his “Pastor’s Blog,” and I have warned him that the comments here are often somewhat edgy at times. Always honest, though. Well, at least indifferently so.
One good habit I have (at least I think it’s good) is that there is always a memo book in my pocket to keep notes. At some point in the service this morning, the idea for this “meditation” to do on Good Friday gelled in my head, and I was able to write it down. Now I need to get it translated into English on the keyboard. Perhaps I’ll turn it into several theses and post them on the door of the church. Nah, already been done.
Pippa passes.
Keep your powder dry.
R
Church as usual Sunday morning, and quite enjoyable. As we were filing out, I asked Pastor Josh if he’d like to go with Bro. Dave and I to the Gun Show in the afternoon, for culture, commerce and politics. I think Josh was a tad taken aback - maybe he’d never been invited to a gun show? Well, the duality of a morning of Christian love with an afternoon of destructive devices was positively irresistable.
Yes, “destructive devices.” Firearms are weapons. The so-called sporting uses are either (1) violent or (2) to develop finer skills for the user to be violent in the future. They are lawfully used for hunting. That’s violent. I choose not to hunt, but I don’t condemn those who do. First, people close to me hunt and they are fine folks, and second, the meat in the meager meals I have didn’t come from animals who got depressed and committed suicide. Target practice is seldom a free-standing sport, and those who are serious about it are few and far between. It is not divorced from violence. Anything you do with a pistol is even more steeped in violence. Pistols are not useful for anything but to kill things, mostly people. Practicing with a pistol is to improve one’s skill, both speed and accuracy. Carrying a pistol is not done for sporting purposes. Carrying a pistol concealed is not sporting in any sense of the term, it is done so that one can employ deadly force unexpectedly when it is warranted. As long at the gun-loving community hides behind the “sporting myth,” we cannot have a genuine conversation about violence in our society and the presence of seriously bad actors who present situations where a violent/deadly response is legally (and morally?) justified. And that discussion needs to take place in the absence of loads of macho bullshit where people exaggerate the dangers in the world and their own willingness to pull a weapon and in the absence of denials that the bad actors are out there. Captain Reality, where are you?
Anyway, Dave picked me up at No. 3, and off we went to the local armory. Part of the building is secured and I presume that military stuff is kept there. The rest is a big open space used for basketball games, proms, and other public events. At the door, there were prominent signs: “Unload Your Weapons. ALL of them. This means you!” The entrance resembled the gunfight at the O.K. Corral, with lots of people slapping for holsters hidden all over to pull pistols, remove magazines and clear the weapons. Dave was not tooled up, which I commented was a poor choice. Walking unarmed into a public place where there are lots of firearms and hundreds of people, one or more of whom SURELY believes that he screwed them in a divorce, just doesn’t seem to me to be very on-the-ball. He was amused by my opinion. He and I toured around, chatting with people we knew, and he was handing out campaign brochures. I’d rather go to a gun show than a hooker bazaar, because I’m much more likely to buy something. I was sort of looking for a particular type of firearm, but when I found one, it was (1) too damn small and (2) too damn expensive. However, the local Guard unit was running some sort of raffle for the benefit of the troops, and that bled a bit of cash, without any hesitation. The sergeants who were selling the tickets were uniformed, and I idly wonder if that’s kosher in the military – not that I mind, quite the reverse, anybody who would object to that is wasting their time with trivia. As we talked with them, one of the sergeants thanked us (Dave ponied up a good bit of cash, too) and commented that people who support the troops also should be supporting the war. Well, this was a nice guy, and it was neither the time nor the place for a political debate, so I moved on. Right next to the Guard table was a table with three guys I didn’t know, but a Shrine Fez on the table. One of them saw Fred’s ring, and asked loudly how good a brother I was. This was all in fun, but also an obvious and straight-forward way to put the squeeze on me for more cash. Being a good sport, I simply asked how much seeing the brothers was going to cost me. Twenty bucks, it turns out, but for a pretty good raffle, something called a “gun club.” The idea of a gun club is that the sponsors arrange with a FFL holder (Clank, dealers must be licensed in the U.S.) to buy a bunch of guns, usually rifles and shotguns, maybe 20 or 30. Then, once a week for several months, they draw a ticket and give away the next gun on the list. Some of them are ordinary, and some of them are nice, and they are a good fundraiser around here. (They used to be a better fundraiser when they were illegal. Wes Ruby, the patron of Ruby Memorial Hospital in Morgantown, who was a friend of my Dad’s, made the Boy Scout Council a LOT of money in the 60's with gun clubs.) I was amused at one table where a fellow had some .22's with synthetic stocks. There was a matched pair of Dale Earnhardt, Sr. and Jr., rifles, and one small child-sized rifle that was no kidding pink. I thought that was a bit over the top. And let’s see - I found a handmade leather “scabbard” for the new cell phone I just got – The Blackberry finally pissed me off to the point that I got rid of it. And one vendor had a table of nice knives, including some American-made Buck knives, so naturally I HAD to buy one. (See some months ago my tirade on Buck moving production to China, where slave-labor reduces costs.) I’m honestly curious about the cultural accomodation made for implements of violence elsewhere. Perhaps the culture I’m doused in is unusual. I don’t have a context for comparison. Oh, one thing that does piss me off about gun shows is the presence of so-called “militaria,” usually Nazi shit like emblems, knives and so forth. Were I immensely wealthy, I would do the same thing some guy in Illinois did with John Wayne Gacy’s paintings, bought them all up and burned them publicly.
There was a sign posted behind one table that speaks to the extremism of gun people: “Let Gun Confiscation begin in West Virginia – It won’t take them near so long to get it out of their system.” Sigh. So many people equate regulation with confiscation.
One vendor (the one with the cell phone scabbards) was selling very nice handmade leather “possibles bags.” I wish those were stylishly permitted, it would make life a little easier. Sometimes, I feel like I’m supposed to be Batman or something with all of the gear I honestly need to carry on my belt or in my pockets.
It was kinda cool to be able to park far away from the armory and “glide” through crowds in the aisles. I have to internalize this stuff.
What is this fascination with the American Idol contestants, and how they emotionally react to winning, losing, and so forth? Why do we really care what the “judges’” opinions are? These are young people who sing well. Part of that is a gift from God. Part of it is that most of them have worked hard to develop that gift. But this is all a part of the bread-and-circuses that distracts people from taking some responsibility, facing the works of Captain Reality, and getting the odd satisfaction that, if they cannot deeply care about anything that matters, they can always form a hazy, internal attachment to the lives of people they don’t know. This, to me, is just another variation on the theme of a “spectator society,” where we are unwilling to interact with real humans, particularly when it involves any sort of unpleasantness. It’s also emblematic of the “celebrity society,” where we strangely care about who Oprah, yadda, yadda, yadda, want us to vote for. Why do we favor these “gifts”? There are so many others in society who have gifts that they have developed and so many, many others who have overcome obstacles to develop skills or knowledge that are actually useful. A young man at the church [whose father is a good friend, whose grandfather was a good friend and mentor (those who do not like that word, tough), and whose great-grandfather I knew slightly] has the gift of an ear for music and hands that will play a musical keyboard WELL, and he has spent LOTS of time developing that, rather more I would think than your average singer.
Hmmm - perhaps there is a post on what I consider useless people coming. Let’s see, number one and two would be astrologers and psychics.
Pastor Josh says that he intends to link my blog to his “Pastor’s Blog,” and I have warned him that the comments here are often somewhat edgy at times. Always honest, though. Well, at least indifferently so.
One good habit I have (at least I think it’s good) is that there is always a memo book in my pocket to keep notes. At some point in the service this morning, the idea for this “meditation” to do on Good Friday gelled in my head, and I was able to write it down. Now I need to get it translated into English on the keyboard. Perhaps I’ll turn it into several theses and post them on the door of the church. Nah, already been done.
Pippa passes.
Keep your powder dry.
R
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Apocalypse now
Lack of desire hasn't been the reason for a post-less week -- it's been frantic 'round No. 3, and I've brought in an endloader to shovel off my tragic desk. OK, actually, Tammy & Kathy are pitching in, and that's every bit as good as an endloader.
Pastor Josh has started a "pastor's blog" for the church - excellent idea, I believe. I need a transparent identity to post comments - there is an elder named Roger there - Perhaps I'll be Roger-the-Heretic - you know, the one who they call on for the rebuttal after a particularly moving service, and have a congregational vote to either expel or burn at the stake. Actually, I've taken on giving one of many "meditations" about the words of Jesus on the cross. I'm curious - will Josh ask me for my thoughts in advance, or live with the nervousness of open heresy? I confess, I like watching people puzzle over my peculiarities. In a Bible study last night, there was a discussion of apocalyptic stuff - with the opinion offered that the current age isn't very apocalyptic. How's that again? You don't need to warp current events into Daniel, Revelation, Ezekiel and Nostradamus to detect oncoming disruption. We are truly in sight of the end of petroleum. When some people now living are old, they will NOT be driving gasoline powered vehicles. We have the end of coal & gas visible in the distance. There are still some tens of thousands of nuclear warheads which are still assembled and lots of fissile material (much of it missing) from which other warheads may be assembled. There is a growing disruptive influence in the Middle East, Northern Africa, and much of Asia and Southeast Asia, as well as hot spots everywhere else. The MTV generation thinks that privation is having the cheap champagne with dinner, and the growing desperate poor have no voice. Climate change is a fact, and the skeptics are flat-earthers. Gresham's law lives. So, perhaps Heaven will not open and from out of his mouth goeth a sharp sword and all of that, but this is not a stable or safe time.
Politics is heating up locally. I think that Bro. Dave understands basically where I am coming from, that to me, politics is a cross between science and religion, and that sometimes Captain Reality says things that you don't want to hear. Partner Amy is only now figuring that out. I have told them both, as well as several other candidates, my views of exactly how to change the current trends. In so doing, they MUST be the MFIC of their respective campaigns, and must make the damn choices. They can listen to all sorts of advice, some of which will be well-intended but just wrong and the rest of which will be from people blowing sunshine up their kilts hoping that if they win, those folks will have some unfair advantage or influence. Sometimes, I think that Second Father Jim and I are the only trustworthy ones in the bunch, mainly because we don't have personal political ambitions or desire for glory. At least political glory locally.
Today is LaElu's birthday, and she had a snow day, which she enjoyed. It's also Bro. Dave's birthday (he's a year younger), and I think he spent his day grouse hunting and probably freezing his ass off. I've snagged a couple of books out of the endless book box for Dave. I think that his wife has always thought me to be a bad influence, an example of measured indolence, strategic incompetence and dangerous doctrine. (Actually, she is a VERY sweet lady.)
Oh, another part of that Bible study was the image of light vs. darkness. That doesn't translate well to me. I have always loved the night. Working midnight shift was a special time. An acquaintance of mine, one of the national leaders in EMS, the late Jim Page, wrote a book of essays on EMS entitled "The Magic of 3 AM." He was right. And night in the woods is even more magical. The only unusually acute physical sense I have is night vision, and it is positively a joy to walk silently at night.
I've five reviews to write for the canon, and honestly haven't had the time even block more than two of them out.
Down 185 solid. The silver band I bought as a sort of wedding band has gotten too big for my ring finger.
Keep your powder dry.
Pippa passes.
R
Pastor Josh has started a "pastor's blog" for the church - excellent idea, I believe. I need a transparent identity to post comments - there is an elder named Roger there - Perhaps I'll be Roger-the-Heretic - you know, the one who they call on for the rebuttal after a particularly moving service, and have a congregational vote to either expel or burn at the stake. Actually, I've taken on giving one of many "meditations" about the words of Jesus on the cross. I'm curious - will Josh ask me for my thoughts in advance, or live with the nervousness of open heresy? I confess, I like watching people puzzle over my peculiarities. In a Bible study last night, there was a discussion of apocalyptic stuff - with the opinion offered that the current age isn't very apocalyptic. How's that again? You don't need to warp current events into Daniel, Revelation, Ezekiel and Nostradamus to detect oncoming disruption. We are truly in sight of the end of petroleum. When some people now living are old, they will NOT be driving gasoline powered vehicles. We have the end of coal & gas visible in the distance. There are still some tens of thousands of nuclear warheads which are still assembled and lots of fissile material (much of it missing) from which other warheads may be assembled. There is a growing disruptive influence in the Middle East, Northern Africa, and much of Asia and Southeast Asia, as well as hot spots everywhere else. The MTV generation thinks that privation is having the cheap champagne with dinner, and the growing desperate poor have no voice. Climate change is a fact, and the skeptics are flat-earthers. Gresham's law lives. So, perhaps Heaven will not open and from out of his mouth goeth a sharp sword and all of that, but this is not a stable or safe time.
Politics is heating up locally. I think that Bro. Dave understands basically where I am coming from, that to me, politics is a cross between science and religion, and that sometimes Captain Reality says things that you don't want to hear. Partner Amy is only now figuring that out. I have told them both, as well as several other candidates, my views of exactly how to change the current trends. In so doing, they MUST be the MFIC of their respective campaigns, and must make the damn choices. They can listen to all sorts of advice, some of which will be well-intended but just wrong and the rest of which will be from people blowing sunshine up their kilts hoping that if they win, those folks will have some unfair advantage or influence. Sometimes, I think that Second Father Jim and I are the only trustworthy ones in the bunch, mainly because we don't have personal political ambitions or desire for glory. At least political glory locally.
Today is LaElu's birthday, and she had a snow day, which she enjoyed. It's also Bro. Dave's birthday (he's a year younger), and I think he spent his day grouse hunting and probably freezing his ass off. I've snagged a couple of books out of the endless book box for Dave. I think that his wife has always thought me to be a bad influence, an example of measured indolence, strategic incompetence and dangerous doctrine. (Actually, she is a VERY sweet lady.)
Oh, another part of that Bible study was the image of light vs. darkness. That doesn't translate well to me. I have always loved the night. Working midnight shift was a special time. An acquaintance of mine, one of the national leaders in EMS, the late Jim Page, wrote a book of essays on EMS entitled "The Magic of 3 AM." He was right. And night in the woods is even more magical. The only unusually acute physical sense I have is night vision, and it is positively a joy to walk silently at night.
I've five reviews to write for the canon, and honestly haven't had the time even block more than two of them out.
Down 185 solid. The silver band I bought as a sort of wedding band has gotten too big for my ring finger.
Keep your powder dry.
Pippa passes.
R
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