Mese: luglio 2015

the further adventures of ralph and sam


“No matter how hard I try,” Ralph lamented to Sam, “I can never tell Timothy Leary and Andy Warhol apart,”

“Oh I have the same problem with Doris Day and Debbie Reynolds,” his friend replied.

“Imagine the confusion if they would have ever married,” the former pondered.

“Boys,” Hildegarde chided, “This is supposed to be a leisurely day in the park for you, Clementine and me.

The ladies never could get over their husbands’ offbeat collective sense of humor.

“I just hope they don’t start another fight with a waiter over the importance of the Oxford comma,” Clementine moaned.


close up of a local creek


In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Close Up.”

This is a picture of a creek (pronounced there as crick) in northeastern Pennsylvania, on the borderline between the Boroughs of Wyoming and West Wyoming.

you keep same ing when you ought to be changing


Reginald and Rachel were making their annual Thanksgiving pilgrimage to Wyoming, Pennsylvania, to see Queen Esther’s Rock.

As always they went from Route 80 onto Route 115 and stopped at their favorite coffee shop in Bear Creek Township.

This year, though, things were different.

It was under new management.

“How dare they?!” he shrieked aloud.

“Mark my words, Governor Wolf will regret this!”

“Honey, he can’t control this.”

He made such a scene the employees asked them to leave.

“I just hope they don’t find out about this in Wyoming,” Rachel shrieked.

carmelite dialogues


It’s July 17, 1794 in Compiegne. Sister Teresa and her fifteen Discalced Carmelite companions are on their way to the guillotine.

“Come, Sisters,” demands Teresa. “Out of fidelity to Catholic orthodoxy, to Jesus and Mary, and to constituted authority, we go to our deaths.”

Calmly they intone the Miserere, Salve Regina, and Te Deum.

Each is decapitated, after which her body is merely thrown into a common grave.

“Well, Citizen,” an onlooker is overheard to explain joyously, “We can’t have their God and Robespierre’s and David’s goddess of reason, you understand.”

“La Marseillaise” plays in the background.

aah yes, i remember it well


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Memory on the Menu.”      Compared to recent memories, I’ve always very much preferred the long ago kind. In an episode of “The Odd Couple”,  Oscar Madison reminds Felix Unger of Dorothy Parker’s claim to have hated writing but loved having written. That’s the way my understanding of life is. I see time as being divided into three parts. The future is pure theory. There is, to  a certain extent, no point in bothering to think about it. The present is one big responsibility. Even the good things have their share of annoyances. The past, though, from this point of view, is the nicest. Each of us is able to see it, as he can see the present, but he’s not obligated to deal with the hard parts. The recent past still has entirely too many memories of all its annoyances. Life during my school days, or during the times when I was working at some long-lost job, was no more interesting then than my current life is. What makes it so interesting for me to reflect upon those previous times is the very fact that I can’t possibly have them back. I can’t possibly control my past. What is done cannot possibly be undone. Anything left undone cannot possibly be done. I can, however, control it in my imagination.  There’s no point in bothering to take such an approach to the immediate past, but it works well with much earlier time frames. There’s quite a significant reason for my having used a picture of a Good Humor ice cream truck instead of a currently commonplace vehicle. Last night I attended the first night of the annual fair at St. Mary of the Isle Church in Long Beach, New York.  That truck was there. For me, Good Humor is a perfect example of the best of nostalgia. It was prominent long ago and has been hardly ever seen during current and recent times. That’s the kind of memory that has always truly piqued my interest.

the adventures of larabie and miss kitti at death’s vestibule


Larabie and Miz Kitti had a long standing friendly rivalry.

One Saturday morning she truly overwhelmed him.

“Go through the tunnel. I double dip defy you,” was her ultimatum.

“No thanks. I’ll have to face God in there and I haven’t been to confession in a few weeks.”

“Heaven, Purgatory, Hell,” he stammered. “I’m in no hurry.”

“Nobody likes a sissy,” she chanted.

“People only call it Death’s Vestibule as a joke. You don’t honestly believe that crock, do you?


Torn between cold logic and traditional local legend, Larabie was stumped. He couldn’t wait to

settle this score but good.

Catholic video begging permission to hold counter-cultural thoughts attracts massive ire

A Blog for Dallas Area Catholics

Catholic Vote has produced a video that basically begs the culture for permission to adhere to the Doctrine of the Faith.  That’s a fairly harsh view, perhaps, but I don’t think it unfair.  See the video and then I’ll share some of the “elite’s” responses:

I have several problems with this video.  I deplore the overall tone of surrender – “please don’t hate me because I think differently from you!”  I’m much more in the mode of Andrew Breitbart of late in his approach to the perverse left: You are completely, totally wrong about practically everything and I don’t have to beg permission from you or anyone else to believe what virtually all of you now hating me believed before it became easier to join the preference cascade and switch sides.  The real reason you hate and vilify me is because my mere presence holds a mirror up to your own…

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a novel proposal


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<!– end InLinkz script –> Charlie Kramden was head over heels for his sweetheart, Cindy Norton.

One day he finally decided to ask for her hand officially.

Always an offbeat soul, he’d planned for over a year in advance to devise absolutely the ultimate avant-garde tribute to the girl of his dreams.

Knowing all about her beau’s eccentricities, Cindy was ready for practically anything.

He drove her to their favorite rural picnic hideaway.

When they arrived her jaw dropped.

“Do you like it, my love?” he asked. “I call it ‘Carhenge’.

“O honey it’s fabulous!” she stammered.

“A mere ring would have been so ordinary!”