Tag Archives: say hallelujah

What Would Jesus Think of Watching Golf on TV?

I was watching the US Open golf tournament this afternoon.  It was
too rainy and stormy to go outside and I’ve already seen all the reruns of CSI
Miami–the only remotely interesting program on the 90 or so available viewing channels.

Now, I can understand people playing golf–we’re a nutty species after all.
The oddest things entertain us.  But watching somebody else play golf?
Sorry but you lose me there.

So I started wondering–what would Jesus think about that questionable
pastime.  It would be sacrilegious to pretend to know what a divinity thinks, but here’s a hypothesis anyway.

Maybe His opinion would go something like this.

“I allowed myself to be tortured to death in the most gruesome way–all to
save your sorry ass souls. You’re supposed to thank me one day a week.  One damn day!  Is that asking too much?  And this is what I get?  Millions of you, glued to some inanimate rectangular object, staring intently at a handful of guys hitting a tiny ball with sticks?

“D’you realize life is finite?  Clock’s tickin’ people.  Y’know I’m comin’ back with an army one of these days don’t ya?  And I’m not gonna be in a good mood.  Just sayin’ ”


Throwing Shade in Rouen in the Middle Ages

Well, actually it wasn’t just insults,–for poor ol’ John I, Archbishop of
Rouen, it was insults and rocks.  Now, when reading about the Middle
Ages, there’s no avoiding the pervasive role piety and religion allegedly
played in life at all levels of society.  Then, accounts of real life events make
for a clearer understanding of how that actually worked out in real time.

John I Archbishop of Rouen (1067 – 1078, previously Bishop of Avranches)
was “animated with a lively zeal for virtue”.

Not everyone was appreciative.  Volume II of Orderic Vitalis’ “Ecclesiastical History of England and Normandy,” mentions John “taking severe measures to separate incontinent priests from their concubines; and when in a synod he
prohibited their intercourse under pain of excommunication,” (he) …”was assailed with stones, and forced to make his escape, on which occasion when flying from the church he intoned with a loud voice the verse:

” God, the heathen are come into thine inheritance.”

What would Jesus say?  “Be fruitful and multiply.” ?  Nope.  “Hey.  Cut it out!  No throwing rocks in the house!”

“Lock Her Up” “Have him flogged” “Lock Her Up” “Have Him Flogged”

To the humor impaired:  This is satire.

Q.  What Do Donald Trump and King Henry II of England Have In Common?

A.  They both made remarks that were construed as hinting that they’d sure appreciate it if someone would get rid of a political opponent, and then gave passive aggressive responses to the resultant firestorm of criticism.  (”Whaaat?” “Was it something I said?” “I was just kidding.”)

Maybe King Henry II’s voluntary penance (flogging) for his faux pas of seemingly wishing for political assassination could be extended to Mr. Trump as well.   Think of it.  It’d be a huge media event that would entertain millions.  The Donald would get tons of attention, which he seeks as resolutelyly as Diogenes, the ancient Greek with the lantern who was unendingly searching for an honest man.  Maybe the pros would outweigh the cons for the ever-surprising Mr.
Trump and he’d agree to the gaudy spectacle.

Henry II was famous for his rages when anyone opposed his will.  After his best bud, Thomas a Becket became Archbishop of Canterbury the two had a falling out over the separation of Church and State.  They had a huge fight about it and in 1164 Thomas ultimately had to scoot to exile in France, where he remained for six years.  (King Henry was really pissed off!)  Eventually, in 1170, Henry and Thomas were reconciled and the archbishop returned to England.  But it was an uneasy truce.

Only a few months after Thomas returned to Canterbury, the two were again at
loggerheads.  The precipitating issue was whether Church or State had judicial authority over clerics.  Apparently many monks had been overly frisky, some even murderous.  Thomas believed only the pope had any authority over religious matters and denounced some bishops during his mass on Christmas Day, 1170, which was interpreted as him excommunicating them.   Henry wanted them reinstated, because he maintained that the clerics’ misdeeds were up to the State to punish (or not).   Thomas said no.

Henry was, as usual, enraged when he didn’t get his way.  He was, in France at the time,  and huffed “Will no one rid me of this meddlesome priest?” or something along those lines.  Four of his knights were only too happy to oblige their liege lord.

The knights crossed into England and raced for Canterbury.  On December 29, 1170 they caught Becket at the cathedral saying Vespers.  They carved him up. Literally.  The crown of Becket’s head was cut off.   One of the knights delivered a crushing blow to the prostrate Thomas’s head, spilling his brains out right in front of the altar.  Ick!  Even for a king having an archbishop’s brains squashed out at a cathedral’s altar was way too over the top.

So Henry was forced to agree to do penance, which included being publicly flogged by the monks of Canterbury, in the cathedral.

Even though, fortunately, no one took the Donald up on his provocative solicitation of violence, there are plenty of people who’d still love to see him publicly flogged.  It could be done at St. Edward’s Catholic church in Palm Beach–there’s plenty of parking behind nearby Green’s drugstore. (Finding parking is a real problem in Palm Beach.)

Mr. Trump ‘s handlers could sell the idea to him by focusing on the linkage between him and a king.  Yeah, the Donald in sackcloth and ashes, the Catholic priests whaling on him (the Episcopalians at Palm Beach’s Bethesda by the Sea church might go too easy on protestant Trump) cameras rolling, media flacks gabbling like excited geese–it would be the event of the election season.

Maybe some RNC members could be induced to join the floggers.  Catholic Paul Ryan would go for it, and Reince Priebus might be all in as well.   Maybe it could be a bi-partisan fund-raiser for charity.  MSNBC’s Joe Scarborough and
Mika Brzezinski could be the fair and balanced moderators. (Or maybe Stephen Colbert would be a better fit–he’s Catholic.)  It would be awesome theater.

And it would give Democrats an answer to the Republicans’ chant of “Lock her up”.   Dems can start start chanting “Have him flogged”.

Somebody, please, start a petition to have the Donald do penance the Henry II way.   Pretty sure it would garner the number of signatures required for the White House to address it.  President Obama, always a good sport, would probably be okay with it.

What would Jesus say?  “Flogging doesn’t sound so bad compared to what I had to do to save your damn souls.  Go for it.”

Say Hallelujah.  This is an idea whose time has come.


Here are a few things I came across recently while doing searches on the internet. There’s little need for embellishment by me because, as we all know, sometimes ya just can’t make this stuff up.

chicken flavored nail polish by KFC

international cup stacking champion

Caitlyn Jenner posing nude for sports illustrated

FWC officers find alligator foot in dashboard, issue citation

From Yahoo news:  “Oklahoma Officials Reject Obama’s Directive on Bathrooms, Declare State of Emergency”

No kidding.  State of Emergency.  Now I think that the new bathroom rule is foolish and ill-advised.  It puts millions of women and girls potentially at risk–because we all know men and boys can get a little crazy when it comes to looking at women and sexual arousal–for the sake of less than 1% of the population.  You just know some idiots are gonna be taking pictures to show their friends and put on their social media accounts.  But “state of emergency”?  Maybe a sense of proportion–on both sides of the issue–is in order.

from Yahoo 2016 05 10 Entertainment
‘Captain America: Civil War’ post-credits scenes: Everything you need to know
(Seriously? There is nothing I need to know about any post-credit scenes.  Ever.)

“The 17-year-old, Madison Cox, who was crowned Miss South Carolina Teen International 2015, was arrested earlier this week on multiple charges of counterfeiting and forgery,Chief Carl Long from the Duncan Police Department told InsideEdition.com.”

Her offense was that she forged excuse notes for missing class.  Seriously?  A 17 year old was arrested for forging excuse notes for missing class?  Multiple counts of counterfeiting?  Maybe we should have let the South secede.  And people think Joe Arpaio is excessively ardent in sticking it to those who commit misdeeds.

What would Jesus say to that?  “Suffer the children.”

Here’s my favorite.  Some guy on the board of directors of a Florida homeless coalition listed himself as an “Apostle”!  No kidding.  Don’t believe me?  Go to http://www.sunbiz.org choose “search our records” and type in Desoto County Homeless Coalition.  “Apostle”.  No kidding.   Does that count as evangelical fraud?



That’s About Enough & El Jobean Christmas Parade

This is just an update of an earlier post from years ago.  El Jobean probably won’t have a Christmas parade, Mary and John have both passed away and  the holidays promise more corporate greed than ever so I was feeling nostalgic wishing none of those things happened.

Glancing at the headlines the other day sent me into a swoon.  And after reading the latest installment of the Sarasota Herald Tribune’s excellent series, “Unfit to Serve” about the abuses of rogue cops and how the eviscerated state oversight panel covers up for them and keeps them “serving” I was ready to call it a day by 8:00 AM.

Yahoo had a headline about a Ford recall because one of their model’s wheels were falling off.  Maybe Ford should have taken the bailout money.  Iran won’t give us back our drone despite Jon Stewart having done a comedic bit about it.  Darn!  I thought that would get the device returned for sure.

The Hollywood gunman had a bad break-up with his girlfriend so, of course he felt entitled to open fire on innocent people since life–and a woman–had dared to treat him so disrespectfully.  Say, d’you s’pose he had tantrums that were caved in to as a child?  When are moms gonna start teaching their spoiled brat sons that if they don’t get their way it’s not okay to kill disinterested third parties?

Rick Perry thinks there are only eight Supreme Court justices, and that he should be president.  Wrong on both counts Ricky.  You’re definitely not ready for the prime time intricacies of the presidency.

Another story too puerile to read was titled something along the lines of “How to View the Lunar Eclipse”.  Uh, let me guess?  Go outside and look up?  Do we really need instructions?  It’s not like a solar eclipse which can harm eyesight.  If you’re too dim witted to be able to find the moon in the night sky, well, go play a banjo in some out of the way rural spot in the mountains.  Jeez, people!

Moving on–a cop in Charlotte County was texting inappropriate things to a 14 year old girl and refused to stop when ordered to–apparently that’s just garden variety rogue cop behavior, but it wasn’t part of the Herald Trib’s series.  It was the topic of a column, the author of which was too timid to say what was obvious–the guy’s certainly a creep and probably a pedophile and/or predator.  He doesn’t lack “judgement,” he’s a creep!

That author was unlike Matt Doig and Anthony Cormier who are just asking for trouble with their frighteningly detailed series about rogue cop misdeeds and how the 19-member Criminal Justice Standards and Training Commission makes sure that dangerous cops are rarely taken off the beat.  Don’t forget, gutting that board was supposedly Jeb Bush’s favor in return for law enforcement unions’ helping him get elected governor.  Don’t even think about what Jeb might do if he ever got to be president!  It was his brother’s Supreme Court appointees and their buddies who unleashed the Citizens United decision upon our democracy.  That decision, enabling the mega-scale corporate buy-a-thon of elected officials put the stake in the heart of our political election processes.

Then there was the horrific information that Newt has slithered to the top of the republican presidential nominee heap.  That indigestible bit of news was just about enough for one day.

So I turned on TV and went to Animal Planet to escape the madness.  The advertisement for a “new episode” of the Skunk Whisperer blindsided me.  Skunk Whisperer?  Okay, that’s really about enough.  Once again our species’ well known penchant for taking a perfectly good idea and running it right into the ground through wretched excess has reared its ugly head.  Skunk Whisperer?  Someone has now made a career and TV series out of being able to communicate with skunks?  Come on!  Why?  Ya could just leave ‘em alone.  They don’t wanna talk to humans.

And contemplating that Donald Trump’s debate on Ion might cut into that channel’s round the clock reruns of “Criminal Minds” was even more dispiriting.  But, no, I did not reach for the icepick to self-lobotomize.  Instead, being over in Charlotte County for the weekend, I decided to go to an annual holiday event which embodies some genuine Christmas spirit.  The El Jobean Christmas parade.  El Jobean is a tiny community tucked away from time where people are poor and live simple lives.  Everybody’s a flamingly rabid Baptist and they’ll try to convert you with every conversation, but still, they are really good people.  Well except for the sexual predator henchman of the commies raping the land, but, forget that for the moment.

The gathering spot of choice for parade viewing is the front porch of John and Mary, a pair of funny octogenarians who bicker affectionately all the time.  The parade passes about 15′ from it so no one misses a thing!  John, in his late eighties, unfailingly sexually harasses all females although if one were to point that out he’d be mystified.  His wee willie winkie probably hasn’t worked in ages, so he’s just bravely keeping up appearances when he complains that his wife’s not gettin’ the job done anymore and somebody else needs to step in and take over the wifely sexual chores.  They’re an entertaining pair, and always kind to everyone.

The parade’s best features IMHO are the cavalcade of golf carts, and the Christian Harley bikers.  In this neighborhood of elderly citizens, everyone gets around in golf carts.  Nope, there’s no golf course, it’s just a good transportation option for folks who may not be able to afford a car or are too frail or visually impaired to drive one or walk far.  For the Christmas parade lots of people decorate their golf carts elaborately, with tons of lights, ornaments, tinsel and other shiny doo-dads, and join the parade.  One of them was even pulling a boat trailer with an inflatable snow house, with inflatable candy canes.  The golf carts  tool down the parade route to great fanfare and applause, accompanied by the local high school band playing “Oh Come All Ye Faithful” with a few slightly off-key musicians gallantly doing their best not to spoil the more accomplished members’ efforts.  The Vizcaya Lakes marching corps is a bunch of elderly folks who this year dressed up as Christmas bells and walked along doing their best to keep up.  Sadly, this was not up to the standard they set a couple of years ago when they all got themselves up as flamingos, but it was a nice gesture anyway.  They don’t march in unison, they amble out of step, which I find quite charming.  There’s far too much regimentation in our society as it is.

The politician seeking votes, who was stupid enough to drive a Porsche Carrera, ain’t gettin’ many votes in that poor neighborhood.  Making people feel poor is a mighty poor way to win friends in that down to earth neighborhood.  But the Tampa Bay Rays get points for sending a car and some pretty girls to hand out t-shirts.  (The Rays take spring training in Charlotte County.)  Of course none of the ballplayers graced the parade with their august presences, but it was nice that team management gave a nod to the insignificant little community of rural oldsters.  If they only knew–those free t-shirts were probably a welcome addition to some frayed wardrobes in that economically disadvantaged community.

Then there was the candidate for Sheriff who commandeered a military troop carrier from a local business.  The kids loved that.  It wasn’t decorated, but it was big, and camouflage painted, and candy was thrown from it, which was more than enough for them.

The Christian Harley riders, looking just like Hell’s Angels, wearing their colors, roared past, gunning their motorcycles in a deafeningly visceral wall of sound.  On the back of their leather jackets and vests are emblazoned the words “We Ride For Jesus”.   It’s not clear exactly what that means but Jesus probably likes the way they celebrate his birthday.  As mentioned in an earlier post, what would Jesus say?  “Don’t just ride that Hog, blast it!”

The Grand Marshall, wearing a definitely-seen-better-days Santa suit was carried forth in a nondescript, several years old vehicle–but it was a convertible.  The judges, sitting at a roadside card table, earnestly discussed the various merits of each entry before choosing a winner, which was maybe announced, but no one I know has ever heard who won for any of the years which I’ve attended.  It’s not about winning, it’s about the simple pleasure unsophisticated people take in their neighborhood, their faith and their kind of offbeat celebration of the season.  After the parade the throngs could repair to the tiny El Jobean park and avail themselves of hot dogs, hamburgers and baked goods.  You could get a homemade pound cake or loaf of orange pumpkin bread for three bucks–proceeds go to charity, of course.  Now that’s a deal.

Urban dwellers would probably scoff at the hicks and their hokey little ten minute parade.  Me?  No way.  It was such a relief to find a Christmas celebration that wasn’t about bigger, better, more, or buy, buy, buy, that wasn’t slick and manipulative and greedy.  It was poignant and touching and it made tears drip from my eyes just to experience something real that, for a change, didn’t make me wince.  I cried with happiness that somewhere in this venal, greedy world I’d found a tiny little bit of genuine, kind human spirit and Christmas joy as exemplified and experienced by people having a great time in their own little sweet, simple corner of the world, with no monetary gain involved.

Merry Christmas indeed!

Aw, Shucks

Aw shucks.  It’s so disappointing.  Herman Cain, victim, has dropped out of the race for the GOP presidential nomination, done in by the vast left wing conspiracy.  At least they didn’t send the black helicopters for him. Those meanies in the media, by reporting on Mr. Cain, have robbed us all of another golden opportunity.  And he’s so qualified too–so well versed in foreign affairs.  Shucks, he knows the names of countries I’ve never even heard of, and I actually follow foreign affairs.  Like many others, I knew not of Uz Beki Beki Beki Beki Stan Stan until Mr. Cain enlighted us rabble.  And his analysis of the Libya situation?  A tour de force.

He seemed so respectful of women too.  Even gave Nancy Pelosi the honorific of “Princess,” when most republicans are utterly dismissive of her.  And when he said that he wouldn’t do anything with her, then leered and repeated that he meant anything, it was obvious he meant that he’d never even consider having sex with her.  I’m assuming that meant because he’s so observant of and committed to his marital vows.  And those poor deluded women who imagined he’d made passes at them got equally respectful treatment from him and his minions.

Yep, we lost a good ‘un there.  But, at least we still have Rick Perry.  He’s as well versed in domestic affairs as Mr. Cain is of foreign events.  Aren’t we all glad he’s let us know how misinformed we are, thinking that the voting age is 18.  Silly us.  If he gets the GOP nod, I’ll sure be there on November 12, ready to pull the lever for him.

And, say hallelujah, Newt’s slithered back into our lives, so there’s still something to be grateful for despite the sad loss of the entertaining Mr. Cain as a candidate.  My spirits just soared, though, a few days ago when I saw the clips of Newt, with Mr. Cain beaming in the background and Pillsbury Doughboy Frank Luntz either hanging on Newt’s every hiss, uh, I mean word–or possibly telling him what to say as he does for the rest of the GOP public figures who are apparently incapable of formulating simple declarative sentences of their own.  That happy occasion was the other day when Newt was dissing the Occupy Wall Street crowd, pulling out an old chestnut from the seventies when he said they should get a job after they go home and take a bath.  Yeah, you dirty hippies, forget about social justice, unemployment, corporate abuses and rampant public corruption.  It’s none of your business anyway, leave it to the pros like Mr. Gingrich.

And speaking of demonizing, somehow, whenever I see the oh-so-presciently named Newt, I imagine that some evil spirit–Valdemort perhaps?–deciding to incarnate as a human politician.  Can’t ya just see it cackling, well, demonically, “And I shall call myself  NEWT!  And I shall sssslittther! Ah ha ha ha ha ha!”

It’s great to see–and hear–ol’ Newt spitting out hateful stereotypes again and dissing those rascally poor people who never get paid unless it’s for something illegal, and who don’t know what it means to work.  It’s music to republican ears.  Those slacker poor folks should take a page from Newt’s scam book and start selling bogus awards at $5,000 bucks a pop as he does.  That’s legal.  Yeah those poor kids he wants to have clean toilets don’t have the habit of hard work that Newt does.  It’s obvious from Newt’s trim appearance that he knows what it means to put in a hard day’s labor.  But it’s disconcerting to hear that great philosopher and deep thinker Joe Scarborough say that, if you’re in a room and Newt’s the smartest guy in the room, you’re in the wrong room.  What could he possibly mean by that?  Newt says he’s the smartest guy in the room so often, I’m sure Mr. Scarborough’s just jealous that he can’t attain Newt’s level of shameless self promotion.

Say, didn’t Newt quit in disgrace as Speaker of the House?  Maybe he and Sarah Palin would make a good team.  Two quitters with huge egos and no sense of propriety–it’s a republican ticket made in Comedy Central heaven.

Gosh, the republican race to the bottom has me on the edge of my seat.  Which one of the losers, uh, candidates, will finally become the standard bearer?  I was hoping for a Cain/Perry ticket in the general election–mainly because Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart would have had endless opportunities to make me laugh.  The entertainment value of such a pairing would have been the gift that keeps on giving.  But, sigh, I guess it’s just not in the cards.  Oh, well.  Maybe Newt will pick Donald Trump as a running mate and we’ll still have a chance to get a good laugh out of the election.

That’d be a good thing since it’s certain that, no matter who runs or which party wins, we’re not gonna get a good leader in any case.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Yippee.  It’s the most wonderful time of the year!  Happy Black Friday.  Happy Cyber Monday.  Are those federal holidays yet?  They should be since they celebrate what we revere most.  Money.  Buying stuff.  Tchotchkes.  Ya can never have enough.  Seriously.  That’s why God made humans, isn’t it?  So we can produce shareholder profits for Walmart and tax revenue for our local state and federal governments?  What could be more sustainable than a tschotchke-based economy?

I think it was in the catechism they taught us in Catholic school.  We had to memorize it.  If memory serves, I think it went something like this.  “Who made me?”  God made me.  “Why did God make me?”  To know him and love him and produce revenue for people I don’t know, who couldn’t care less about whether I live or die, so they can blow it on a bunch of useless tchotchkes.  To provide tax revenue to feed into the endless maw of governments which no longer understand that they are supposed to be serving us not the other way around.”  I think it went something like that.

Forget giving thanks, times a-wastin’ we got pointless crap to buy.  This endless spiral of greed, fueled by a handful of people at the putative top who can’t stuff their mouths, their bellies and their lives with enough to ever satisfy them are getting to be a real pain in the ass.  Ecce homo.  And like sheep we buy into it.  Pun intended.  Wretched excess, start your engines!

Yeah, one woman was so thankful on Black Friday for all she has that she was willing to pepper spray her fellow shoppers to get to the head of the line to get even more.  Good plan.  Now all that money saved on early shopping she can spend on attorneys and court costs.  If there is an afterlife, the philosopher Thomas Hobbes must be leaping for joy, shouting “Told ya so, told ya so, I was right all along!” while  the more practical Malthus must be thinking, “Just wait.  Just you wait and see who’s right.”  We’ll overpopulate our ecological niche eventually in a Malthusian race to gobble up as much as we possibly can.  Then life will become a Hobbesian nightmare of scratching and clawing in the dirt for whatever scraps we can find.

But not everyone was busy shopping.  A quick glance at the headlines in the Palm Beach Post and other newspapers imparted the joyful tidings that one guy shot his ex girlfriend  multiple times and himself once, a drive by injured four, killed one, a local company was busy bilking the elderly in a  toilet paper scam (!), child abuse, stabbing deaths, gunshots and general mayhem rang in the start of the serious holiday season.

And also in lockstep with the holiday season’s ethos of altruism, kindness, and concern for others, our wonderful governor, Rick Scott–his healthcare company was so crooked it was fined $1.7 billion for defrauding medicare and medicaid–and the goober Florida legislature, turned down more than $100 million in federal money for healthcare for Floridians.  Yeah, who needs healthy citizens?  Not Floriduh!  What would Jesus say?  “You people make me sick!”  Jeez, if they’d given it some Ayn Rand objectivist thought–her nutty, shallow world view is big with the tea party crowd–they’d realize healthy people have a lot more disposable income than sick people.  The gov and legislature are losing money for big business, cutting into shareholder profits with that sort of “let’s cut off our nose to spite our face” thinking.  They are not serving their corporate masters well.

Then there’s Sam Brownback, deep thinker and Kansas Governor.  He got his panties all in a twist when one of his paid toadies, uh, I mean staffers, discovered that a high school kid tweeted something uncomplimentary about governor Brownback.  He complained to her school principal.  “Wah wah wah, some teeny-bopper said a mean thing about me.  I will crush her!”  Very manly gov.  And what a way to spend tax dollars!  Having your trolls troll the internet to see what uppity citizens are saying about you is a great way to spend tax dollars.  Small government, right, Sam?

Yeah the holidays are here.  As usual, I need a nap.  I don’t feel so good.  Too much holiday tidings of comfort and joy have worn me out already.  But, not to worry, it’s nothing that an $8 Bonnat “El Rosario” chocolate bar can’t fix.