Scribblins

Updates

2004-09-18T20:47:00.000-04:00

The new job is magnificent, even if it leaves me little time for blogging. I dealt with my first experience as a vet tech during examination and, luck of the draw, I got an 18wk old male black lab who had apparently never experienced the least little bit of discipline. I had been cradling his head in the crook of my arm, sort of a relaxed headlock, butwhen I tried to hold his muzzle so the vet could feel his lymph nodes he started screaming and thrashing. He did the same when the doc put the stethoscope to his ribs, so I didn't feel nearly so bad.

The car is running now. I picked it up from the shop, a tarpaper island amidst a sea of rusty Beetles and Things, just as Ivan was starting to do his damage to Atlanta. I don't think the windows have been cleaned since the Reagan years, if the brown stuff I cleaned off is any indication. And, to make matters worse, my windsheild wipers were flopping helplessly at the bottom of my windsheild within ten minutes. It was raining too hard to get out and fix them, so I drove the whole 20 miles home with my driver's window rolled down, elbow resting on sideview mirror, furiously pumping the wiper up and down my window.

Sharon was supposed to drive in front of me, slowly leading my crippled Ghia home. But she got through a yellow light that caught me, and then went the wrong way on the interstate ( I found that out later in this whole mess.) Did I mention 17 of those 20 miles are freeway miles? Anyway, the guy in front of me coming out of the ramp was only doing 30 and had his flashers on! I just followed him for about 5 miles until he got off at an interchange, leaving me with nothing to follow.

Until a Honda that had been doing a nice clip up behind us whipped over and flipped its flashers on, dropping it down to... 30 mph. I thought Sharon had arrived in the nick of time, but when I got to read the liscense coming under a bridge, it wasn't her. I figured it was coincidence until I watched him exit a few miles down the road, only to be replaced by a third stranger from behind. I followed him allt he way to a traffic jam that stretched forward past my exit. I just took that nice and easy, still pumping away a ahlf hour or more later.

I was going to blog about this that night, but lost power. It was a minor miracle, me getting home. Today I fixed the wipers by merely tightening two screws. I went ahead and cleaned the windows and applied a sheeting agent on the exterior of the windows and an anti-fog agent to the inerior.

I have two Jensen speakers to either side of the rear "seat" but am not sure I have located the wires. I want to install a radio, but those wires are neccesary. I also put the stock gear shift knob (a black "button") back on, where a previous owner had installed a burlwood shifter.

I think when I redo the interior, rather than rechrome the interior trim I will marlinspike all the it. Marlinspike is an old nautical skill intended for rigging on sailing vessels, but quickly adapted also to decorating in places where brightwork was undesirable for whatever reason. It is similar to macrame, though a Bosun would whup you for saying such a thing. Since I am doing the interior in black, I can use black nylon landscapers or mason's twine to do the knot work. That's the same stuff you use to tie rosaries at www.rosaryarmy.com. In black it is readily available at home fix-it stores. The few "flat" peices, like the door handles and front heat register in the floor, I will paint black (matte or gloss, depening on function). Install a cheap black carpet kit and some model and year specific seatcovers, plus a new dash pad and a new dash facing (faux wood grain is stock, but I bet I could make my own from a black plexi kind of material.) Viola, a black interior for a little effort.

Anyway, those are the updates, such as they are. I'll be trying to blog at least twice per week as time allows, but learning a new trade, I am making no promises for the time being.

2004-09-14T09:44:00.000-04:00

1968 Karmann-Ghia by Volkswagen. Interior needs a complete restoration. Engine is being replaced this week.

Storytime

2004-09-14T09:23:00.000-04:00

My daddy and his twin brother once got an unbelievable deal on a VW Beetle, but first I must fill in some details about their brother in law, from whom they got this steal of a deal.

My father's only sister, who needs your prayers as she faces lung cancer, got in the family way when she was a young woman and my grandmother, over everyone else's vociferous objections, made her marry the fellow what done it. I mean everybody. Her sons still at home, her husband, everyone was against this for the simple fact that the man was a psycho with a capital PSY. A brutal sadist is what he was. So bad that when he committed suicide, he arranged things, intentionally, so that his 6 or 7 year old daughter would find his rotting corpse two weeks later. Such people make it difficult to believe we are all reflections of God.

Anyway, while he and my Aunt were married, he had bought a brand new Beetle, late 60's vintage, and drove her for about 2 years before she "just died" on him. Wouldn't crank for nothing. So he bought a new car and offered the VW to my daddy and his twin for $100 if they'd come to Atlanta and haul it home. They got a C-note and a flatbed trailer and headed right up.

While they were looking it over before they loaded it, they found what they suspected was the problem. They paid their bro-in-law his $100 and loaded it up. They then stopped at the first gas station they came to, bought some distilled water and poured it in the bone dry battery cells. Popped the clutch as they rolled it off the trailer and one drove the perfectly running VW home while the other drove the truck.

A few years later my Uncle rolled the car, claiming he hwas swerving to miss a dog. Everyone always suspected that he was actually frightened after a run in with the Sentinel gaurding the doors of the Masonic Lodge, but thats a whole other Storytime.

Into each life a little...

2004-09-14T09:13:00.000-04:00

It came up a cloud last night, figuratively speaking. I found a 1968 Karmann-Ghia that seemed to be in fine mechanical shape, but on the drive home the engine died. Probably a thrown bearing, as she still spins, just not fast enough to catch at all.

Anyway, found a VW specialist outside the city with his own rebuild shop and junkyard. ALL AIR COOLED VWs, nothing else.He wants a little over a third of what I paid for the car to replace the engine with a warranteed rebuilt. Says he can have it done by the end of this week.

So far, the fellow I bought it off of has been a gem. Said to let him know what the engine costs and he will split that with me, as he presented her as a good running car. I thought he was an honest guy when I bought the car and I am glad he hasn't done a thing yet to disprove that judgement.

Anyway, I just have to remind myself that $3,000 isn't a steep price for a Karmann-Ghia in good shape with a new rebuilt motor. I'll still come out ahead, even if this seems like an inconvenience. I'll try to get a picutre of the car up sometime today.

WOOHOO!!!

2004-09-11T11:59:00.000-04:00

It'll be steak tonight in my house!!!

Continuing my streak of never being turned down for any job I have interviewed for, I am now a Veterinarian Assistant for Buckhead Animal Clinic, beginning Wednesday morning at 8am sharp!

Thank you all who prayed for me. It has been much appreciated. But please don't stop just because I have work. I still need prayer for my ongoing spiritual conversion.

Crumpler's Horn

2004-09-10T21:20:00.000-04:00

Someone has written to ask about two items in my comments on Sen. Zell Miller.

First, a sugar tit is a terrycloth rag which had been tied up into a small package with a butter and sugar mixture inside for calming fussy infants and toddlers. We did not have pacifiers in our neck of the woods. We had the sugar tit.

Now on to "bore a hole in crumpler's horn." It is a little ditty to amuse small children. With an index finger you make a lazy spiral in the air, slowly growing smaller as it also closes in on the child's belly. While doing this you recite the following...

"Bore a hole in Crumpler's Horn
And there I'll tie a string
And lead him to the river bank
And there I'll THROW HIM IN!!!"

On "thow him in" you tickle that little belly with all the gusto you can muster. The rhyme itself is a bastardisation of a much older song, from 17th C Britain.

"Bore a hole in Crummel's Nose
And there I'll tie a string
And lead him to and fro the town
For murdering Charles the king."

Crummel there would be Cromwell, who led the roundheads against King Charles and his cavaliers. This ditty is one of many holdovers from my culture's very Scottish, very cavalier origins. Many of these quirks hold no signifigance any longer, but they are still fiercely clung to. Another example is always passing your spirits over your water glass whenever you make a toast. This originally signified toasting "The King Across the Water", as the Stuarts-in-exile were called.

Storytime

2004-09-10T20:40:00.000-04:00

We've added a new feature here at Scribblins. From time to time, I would like to spin a yarn about my family. Please keep in mind that all of these stories are about a protestant family of mixed Scottish and Cherokee ethnicity in rural northeast Alabama, the foothills of Appalachia. They are often violent or crude, but they are a large component of who I am because they explain where I come from. Some of them may be shocking to well-bred city folk, but I am not ashamed to re-tell them here. So this is the Inaugural Storytime...

When my father was a young man attending college, he was apparently quite the ladies man and this sometimes led to trouble. Now, please do not misunderstand. He was not a cad or a lecher, he respected the virtue of the girls he dated, but he seemed to enjoy the company of every girl he met, usually over a plate of hash and an orange bellywasher. Since he wasn't doing anything to be ashamed of, he sometimes didn't ask prospective dates the proper questions beforehand.

For example, "Are you engaged to a very large linebacker for a national championship college football team?"

This one young lady decided to use my father's interest to make her fiancee jealous. And mercy, was he a big boy! After their third date, she called her hubby-to-be to let him know she was keeping company with my father. Well, this fellow wasted no time in coming to the JSU campus the next Monday and tracking my father down to administer the requisite whuppin'. As luck would have it though, he found, instead, my father's mirror-image twin brother, Ricky, and worked him over like cubesteak.

My Uncle Ricky was not one to take such things graciously, and so on Tuesday he found my father's latest interest to tell her that her fiancee had whupped the wrong twin. He had to produce a driver's license to convince her, but convince her he did. Of course, she proceeded to call her dear lug and tell him he had made a mistake and would have to come repeat the task. (Why do some women enjoy seeing bloodshed over such things? I guess I may as well ask how many licks to the center of a tootsie-pop, but I digress.)

Anyway, the linebacker returned on Friday to finish the task, but my father had been given warning by a friend of the girl in question. Being an honourable fellow from a hillbilly family but blessed with an intelligence that exceeded his brawn, my father kept a very low profile throughout the day. Around 4pm, thinking it safe, he decided to stroll out to the parking lot to return home from school. As he rounded the corner, he walked right into this very. large. and. muscular. chest.

The linebacker for the Crimson Tide proceeded to lift my father off the ground by his lapels, saying , "I got you now, fellow!" As I said, my father's wit was abundant, so his immediate reply was something along the lines of "Oh no you don't. You whupped me once already and if I have to find a two by four, you won't do it again!" The fellow set him down, dusted him off and apologised profusely, inquiring as to where he might find his prey. As luck would have it, Uncle Ricky was crossing the parking lot at that time and so my father pointed and quickly blurted out, "There he is!"

After being worked over a second time for his brother's indiscretion, Uncle Ricky had had enough. My father was the athletic one of the twins, so how best to exact revenge? As luck would have it, Uncle Steve, my daddy's youngest brother, was home from Georgia Tech where he also was a starting ballplayer. So Uncle Ricky paid his very large and over-muscled kid brother ten dollars to lure my father into the back bedroom and get his pound of flesh. End result? Three cracked ribs.

Proving out that family loyalty of which we hillbillies are so proud, they all quietly worked together to sneak Daddy out the bedroom window and off to Summerville, GA, for emergency services. They slipped away into the night and kept their secret so well that my grandmother only learned of this story when they were all married with children of their own, swapping tales and reminiscences over turkey at Thanksgiving. Maybe catholics from large families can understand how beating on one another is a natural way of bonding for brothers? Maybe it isn't so odd as it often seems to the people to which I have told this story in the past.

(If you like this new feature let me know. If you don't, still speak up. It won't impact whether or not we continue to post the yarns, but feedback is appreciated nonetheless.)

Good News!

2004-09-09T15:13:00.000-04:00

After 30+ hours without power and learning that my truck was totaled in the accident I blogged about, I have some good news to share.

Theseveral months worth of meat, purchased whenever there was a sale at the various local grocers, was still mostly frozen when the power returned. Deo Gratias!!!

Without any haggling on my part, the insurance company is cutting a cheque large enough to pay off what I owe on the truck with enough left over to purchase an air-cooled Beetle in very good condition. (I have a Karmann Ghia which needs some interiro work in my sights, but that itself is not a lock.)

While I am still unemployed, I have an interview with the best small animal vet. clinic in the city this afternoon at 5pm. That isn't a job, yet, but it is a step in the right direction.

My recently rediscovered uncle in Orlando came through Frances with only some landscaping damage, nothing more.

All in all, Deo gratias. And also allyoufolkswhoprayedforme-o gratias as well!

Sen. Miller unloads

2004-09-02T23:01:00.000-04:00

I just want to thank the good senator for answering questions long unanswered. I have always wondered why my father remained a dedicated democrat eventhough he never once voted for a Democrat at any level beyond Sheriff. He had to register as a Democrat in order to vote because ALL local elections back home are decided in the Democrat primary and its run-offs. I understood that. But I never understood why he would call himself one. And he'd say it with a pride that was galling to his Reaganite offspring. He campaigned for Goldwater in 1964, long before he could vote, but would still proudly call himself such a vile thing! Unbelievable.

But now I know. Well, I knew all along, but now I understand. I knew, long before Sen. Miller strode forth the other night, that Scoop Jackson, Harry Truman and (arguably) Jack Kennedy were VERY different democrats than the ones I've seen my whole life. But thats the thing I understand now, to whatever degree. I look back and cast a scornful glance at the democrats of the 20th Century, even the good ones, because I grew up in a political climate where Democrats walk hand in hand with evil. My Daddy, and Sen. Miller, did not come of age in that climate. Theirs was very different.

And I suppose I understand this because it came from a man like me, to whatever extent. A Reagan Democrat from Detroit could never have expressed this in a way I could understand. But Young Harris, GA, while 4 times larger than Gaylesville, AL, (the town nearest the homestead back in New Moon) is still very much like it. Senator Miller and I both hail from a very specific Southern subculture, Appalachian Hillbilly. I'm sure we've both helped make sorghum and tilled hilly feilds with rocks the size of a man's head. I bet he's had to beat the dawn to scrape hair off a scalded hog carcass and I bet he's "bore(d) a hole in Crumpler's horn" for one of his grandbabies.

In fact, the major difference between he and I, the reason I lean republican (I've always been more of a third-party libertarian Classic Liberal, but that is changing as my conversion takes root) and he is a staunch democrat is because he was raised up during the reign of Eugene Talmadge and I was still taking a sugar tit when Ronald Regan finally sent Jimmy Carter oacking back to south Georgia.

On Mr. Hudson

2004-08-19T16:54:00.000-04:00

The National Catholic Distorter's article is up. I think it is a prime example of the sin of detraction and am not going to link to it. It is prominently linked on their website though.

Now, before I begin offering my opinions on this subject, let me confess a few personal details. I am currently pursuing an annulment from the Metropolitan Tribunal of my Archdiocese. I married when I was 18. By 19 we had agreed on an "open marriage" and then separated when she found a girl she liked better. I spent the next several years going from one girlfriend to the next while picking up the cheapest of street hookers on a weekly, sometimes semi-weekly, basis. I've had torrid romances with married women. I've seduced drunken girls in bars frequented by sailors. My current fiancée Sharon, did not know I was married until we had been dating on and off for several years. I didn’t inform her, or file for a divorce, until I was in Catechesis and desiring a Sacramental Marriage with her. There are even worse things, far more illegal things, I am not going to disclose.

Now that that is out of the way, let us move on to Mr. Hudson. What he did was a disgusting breach of trust, an abuse of his position as a professor. Inexcusable! But as with all such things, it is also forgivable. Mrs. Hudson can forgive him. The student he harmed can forgive him. God can forgive him. None of the rest of us has anything to do with it. It simply isn't any of our business.

(Note Bene: There have been rumours that accusations of a more recent vintage can be made. These are just that, rumours. I don't engage in gossip, so let's leave it at "This blogger knows rumours abound, but gives no credence to unsubstantiated rumours.")

Now, the important question is, does any of this invalidate anything Mr. Hudson ever wrote? Maybe. I am not familiar with his every utterance, so I will clarify my qualifier. If he has ever written that he is a paragon of virtue, or said as much, that's invalidated. But when he writes that certain actions, or certain positions, are sinful the fact that he has sinned does nothing to invalidate his remarks. Notice I haven’t addressed his resignation or political ties. I don’t really care about them. I may support Bush over Kerry, but I do not care to sully myself in politics too much. It once held a great thrill for me, but as it is formulated in Modernity, there is no way to engage in politics in a truly honourable fashion. I want no part of it, nor do I want part of those parts that do.

There seems to be confusion in our culture at large, and even among Catholics who should know better, over the distinction between a hypocrite and a sinner. A hypocrite is one who holds himself to a different standard than the one publicly proclaimed. A sinner merely fails to uphold his proclaimed standard. A hypocrite says adultery is wrong while making the mental reservation “this does not apply to me, of course.” A sinner says it is wrong, knows it is wrong, and still does it, for whatever reason.

In my estimation, Deal Hudson is a sinner, a repentant one. He is no hypocrite, so far as I can tell. Pray for his victim, pray for his family, pray for him.

And also pray for me.

2004-08-18T12:31:00.000-04:00

And with my godfather/sponsor, Mr. Bill Smith, a marvelous Catholic and retired dairy-farmer.

2004-08-18T12:26:00.000-04:00

After Confirmation with my pastor/catechist/all-around-great-man, Fr. Robert Fromageot, FSSP.

2004-08-18T12:07:00.000-04:00

Moments before I stepped inside to make my Abduration of Error before the Tabernacle...

Squelching Dissent

2004-08-18T11:25:00.000-04:00

My new friend, Nathan, has just provided a good fisk of that Roger Chesley article making the rounds. I highly reccomend it.

I had considered fisking it myself, but my first rule of Fisking is that it must be funny, and so I passed. Nathan took a different tack and just argued the guy's position into the ground. I had thought such a thing unneccessary, but for any of you who might have read that article and nodded vociferiously at any point, do yourself a favour and let Nathan set you straight!

Kerry on Iraq

2004-08-17T16:52:00.000-04:00

Follow the link above and watch the video. I think it is important, in the name of fairness, to hear what Sen. Kerry has to say on the Iraq War. After watching it, I see no way a person can call him a serious candidate for president. He is as nakedly ambitious as former-President Clinton. Pure and simple.

Never let it be said we here at Scribblins are not fair.

(Hat tip and mucho thanks to the Mighty Barrister, who we are honoured to have commenting here.)

Interesting

2004-08-16T10:01:00.000-04:00

It is just this sort of thing which leads me to conclude that those who insist there were no WMDs because we have not yet found them suffer from, at best, a failure of imagination.

"Pockets are mysterious things."

2004-08-15T23:19:00.000-04:00

A close friend (we were confirmed together) gave me a Catholic Pocket Prayer Book today after mass. The foreward was written by Fr. Benedict Groeschel, a favorite priest of mine. His opening line was absolutely wonderful (see heading), typically Fr. Groeschel, and fitting to me. As many who know me can attest, I have a tendency to dress in kilts instead of breeches, and as such I can definitely identify with this quote.

Cricket Fights?

2004-08-15T22:02:00.000-04:00

I'm sorry, but I have trouble getting really worked up over this. I know they are living creatures, but there is just something, the ick factor maybe, that renders them distinct from dogs or cocks, to my mind at least.

My dad was once attacked by a gamecock when he was 8. His uncle had been keeping it hidden in the corn-crib and his aunt had sent him out to collect some corn. The little thing latched onto his knee with his spur and went to work. he still had faint scars from it when he died 40 years later.

But Aunt Dode made fried gamecock and gave him a breast for Sunday dinner that very next week.

The Lord Giveth...

2004-08-14T22:38:00.000-04:00

I had a very strange day today. I had made plans to spend the day exploring a flea market they have each weekend at a local drive-in theater. The sign I've passed for a year read "GIGANTIC FLEA MARKET!!!" and I love spending all day exploring deals and bargains! Sharon and I arrived at about 9:30 and found a good parking spot. Hand in hand we entered the drive-in in search of the deal of a lifetime.

15 minutes later we had explored every single booth!

Ok, so we were disappointed, but it was a beautiful day and so we decided to just drive somewhere. See something interesting. Grab a bite to eat. Not having a destination in mind, we decided to drive south out of Atlanta on I-85. Once free of the city, I decided we would take a look at Lake West Point, a manmade lake created many years ago by damming the Chattahoochee River where it begins to make the border between Georgia and my homeland, the Great State of Alabama. As we drew closer, I considered contacting an uncle, Frank, I had not seen since my father's funeral in autumn of 1999. But he wasn't my favorite uncle, and it was out of the way, so I pushed that thought down.

I actually haven't seen a single relative of mine, except my sister, since my Father's funeral. Every six months or so, I look for a phone number for my father's youngest brother, my Uncle Steve, in his last state of residence. But I never turned anything up. I would have dearly loved to have seen my aunt, my father's only sister, but again, I knew of no way to contact her. I began this century resigning myself to being an orphan. A man with one sister and no other relatives. It has been a fairly lonely existence, especially growing up in rural Alabama, surrounded by relatives, near and distant. Some are "double kin". This results when we are related to both sides of a marriage, through different bloodlines. (Moderns, being unaccustomed to tracing extended family connections, are already assuming this means incest. If you will give it a moments thought (I can wait...) you'll realise it implies just the opposite.) But I have been trying to build friendships in an effort to soften the pain. And it has been working. When my fahter died, I stopped visiting folks back in the hills in Alabama. I was living in the city, and the one link I believed I had to my past, my father, was dead. I didn't believe I would be embraced. I felt like I had no right to be part of the family, since my "passport" was lost. I felt illegitimate. For years I have felt illegitimate.

Anyway, we finally saw the sign for West Point Lake. Right underneath it was a sign giving the milage to Lannett, AL, as 6 miles. I know my Uncle Frank lived there all his adult life and 6 miles isn't so far. As I said, he isn't my favorite Uncle, but he might be in the book. We dialed information and had his number in a jiffy. I called, he answered. Got directions and we were on my way. We only visited him for an hour (they had work to do) but he gave me a phone number for my Uncle Steve, now living in Orlando, FL. The freaky part is they just moved to Orlando last year. For the 3 years prior, they lived about 60 miles from me!!! Let that sink in. While I was at my loneliest, my best living uncle was 60 miles away, and neither of us knew it!

After we left Uncle Frank's, I called Uncle Steve. They came through the storm with flying colours. We got caught up, and then he told me my Aunt Glenda had moved back to Atlanta. He gave me two numbers of her. She lives less than 20 miles from me and is in poor health. She visited my father regularly and faithfully during the 6 years he was dying, so I plan to return the favour if she allows me. He also provided a number for both his sons, who share an apartment north of Atlanta.

I then called Aunt Glenda. Voicemail. Left messages.

Called cousins. Brian specifically. He is 4 years younger than me. Of course, when he answered, I didn't identify myself. Oh no, that just wouldn't be fitting. Instead, I told him I was Special Agent Brandon Pearl, Georgia Bureau of Investigation, and that we had to meet to get some things cleared up. "Of course we can't discuss it over the phone, but rest assured you aren't in trouble, so long as you're honest with us." We scheduled to meet at his place of employment, a local restuarant he runs, later in the day. He was definitely freaking out when we hung up.

Of course, he called his dad immediately. Now I hadn't secured Uncle Steve's cooperation, but he's a smart man and played along anyway. Well, until his son begged to know what was going on. He loves him, who can fault him that?

So Brian was expecting me. We had a great time. He fed me wings while we caught up a little. We traded phone numbers and about 7 hugs over the hour or so we were together. he told me not to be a stranger. I told him he was like a kid brother in my heart. And then we parted.

When I woke up today, I was a man without a family. A man with a Saviour, but little else it seemed. Within 6 hours, I had my entire family back. At least the ones that have not passed away. I am once again a Jennings, not only in name, but in connections.

God has returned my family to me. A family I thought was lost forever. Thank you, Dear Lord, for loving me and giving me a loving family for the second time. Now I have to plan a trip to Orlando. I hope it's Christmas, but sooner would also be nice!

Inheritances

2004-08-14T00:12:00.000-04:00

I am a convert to the faith, and a very recent one at that. My path to the Eternal City has been an odd and winding one. But it all started as a Baptist back home in Alabama.

My father was a Baptist Minister of Music with an extraordinary voice. He and his twin brother, who have both passed away, loved to sing together. We didn't listen to music in my family, we made it. One of the songs they loved to sing was "Fill My Cup" by Richard Blanchard. That song, or rather their rendition, will haunt me so long as I live. The first verse and chorus are as follows:

Like the woman at the well I was seeking
For things that could not satisfy:
And then I heard my Savior speaking:
" Draw from my well that never shall run dry".

Chorus:
Fill my cup Lord, I lift it up, Lord!
Come and quench this thirsting of my soul;
Bread of heaven, Feed me till I want no more--
Fill my cup, fill it up and make me whole!

He thought he understood what that meant, and I am sure his understanding is closer to the author's than my (now) catholic one. But I wish that he had received an opportunity to understand this chorus properly. If only he had understood that the Bread of Heaven is not some ephemeral experience, but is real. It is flesh and blood. I cannot help but pray at each and every Mass that this Bread of Heaven will fill me completely; that it will feed me till I want no more.

If anyone actually reads this blog, I beg that you lift up my father, Randy Glenn Jennings, and my uncle, Ricky Lenn Jennings, in your prayers, even if only one Ave Maria. I am thankful to Our Lord for providing me with enough of the theological virtue of Hope to pray that they made it to purgatory, and that their lives and the protracted illness which ended them, might lessen their stay there.

Réquiem ætérnam dona eis Dómine; et lux perpétua lúceat eis. Requiéscant in pace. Amen.

De profundis clamavi ad te Domine

Domine exaudi vocem meam fiant aures tuae intendentes ad vocem deprecationis meae si iniquitates observabis Domine Domine quis sustinebit quia tecum est propitiatio cum terribilis sis sustinui Dominum sustinuit anima mea et verbum eius expectavi anima mea ad Dominum a vigilia matutina usque ad vigiliam matutinam expectet Israhel Dominum

quia apud Dominum misericordia et multa apud eum redemptio

et ipse redimet Israhel ex omnibus iniquitatibus eius

May God grant her eternal rest

2004-08-13T11:24:00.000-04:00

Julia Child, at age 91, has passed away. She was not nearly my favorite television cook, but she was a character, and a groundbreaking one at that. All my favorites, even Justin Wilson and the Frugal Gourmet, owe her a debt of gratitude.

As do I. Let us pray for the repose of her soul.

MUST SEE TV

2004-08-12T18:23:00.000-04:00

The choice facing us in the presidential election is clear.

A Self-Professed War Criminal

OR

George W. Bush

And people have trouble making this decision?

Look what happens...

2004-08-12T17:06:00.000-04:00

When you don't motivate your players with fear of drills and shredding machines.

Who'd have thunk it?

2004-08-12T17:03:00.000-04:00

Again the various currents of American perversion run together.

When Christ turns out to be a pain in the neck

2004-08-12T15:44:00.000-04:00

Not really. But you know how we are to experience Christ in giving drink to the thirsty? Well, let's just say this reflection of Christ turned mean when things didn't go her way.!

I was just in a mild automobile accident. Both people involved are ok. My truck is fairly damaged but, excepting one headlight, it is all cosmetic.

While waiting for the police to decide which force has jurisdiction over the parking lot (LONG STORY OF GOVERNMENT INEPTITUDE THERE) she and I made small-talk, mostly about our respective faiths. It started when I overheard her discussing a nephew in a coma from a gunshot wound. I asked his first name so I could pray for him. From there we shared other somewhat intimate details about our lives. I went into the grocery store while waiting for the cops to finish to get her a bottle of water as I got myself one. It was such a great experience.

Right up to the moment she figured out that I was not about to admit fault, because I was not at fault, and that the police could cite neither of us because it occurred on private property. Well, needless to say, the sweet little christian woman who leaves all things in God's hands got very perturbed then.

Anyway, pray for her nephew, Kenneth, the gunshot victim. And pray for her as well. I've already said a few prayers of thanksgiving for coming out of this accident completely unharmed. But pray for me for taking this so personally. I shouldn't have, I know. But imagine my suprise, experiencing Christ in my fellow man, when "Christ" suddenly turns into a complete putz!

Kick a rock

2004-08-06T19:00:00.000-04:00

Out squirms a snake.

For anyone mistaking Mr. Bill Cork's blog for a home of fair or intelligent discussion of anything, I'd like to know why.

An update on lost friends...

2004-08-06T11:44:00.000-04:00

I decided to call my old buddy I wrote about earlier to tell him what I think. I had planned for something like this (on his v-mail, since he appears to be ducking my calls:

"Dude, if I am wrong ignore this message, but I think ostracising a close friend because he has the audacity to think differently is the epitome of closemindedness. I am quite disappointed, as I thought you were more liberal-minded than this. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know how this sort of thing appears to other people."

Well, I never got to leave that message (Deo Gratias!!!) because he answered. We chatted, got caught up and he accounted for why he has been scarce. So I came clean, told him what I suspected.

His response? "Dude, I did call you back. I didn't leave a message because I thought you checked your caller ID."

After our conversation, I checked my caller ID. Sure enough, he called me this past Saturday. Needless to say, I am very glad our relationship is still intact.

A Funny Anti-Kerry spot

2004-08-05T16:22:00.000-04:00

Here inAtlanta, we have just seen the Club For Growth's latest Kerry ad.

With a picture of Kerry pointing his finger serving as a weathervane topper, a long list of Kerry's flip-flops was listed with a vaguely recognisable acoustic folk peice playing in the background.

Tha tagline?

"How many times must John Kerry flip-flop before America sees through him?

The Answer is Blowing in the Wind."

Too funny. Hopefully it is as effective as it is clever.

Inane entries

2004-08-02T15:52:00.000-04:00

Entry:	contrast
Function:	verb
Definition:	differ
Synonyms:	balance, bracket, collate, compare, conflict, contradict, depart, deviate, differentiate, disagree, distinguish, diverge, hang, match up, mismatch, oppose, separate, set off, stand out, vary, weigh
Antonyms:	accord, agree, be alike, be similar
Concept:	difference
Source:	Roget's New Millennium™ Thesaurus, First Edition (v 1.0.5) Copyright © 2004 by Lexico Publishing Group, LLC. All rights reserved.

For Mr. Phipps

2004-08-02T13:57:00.000-04:00

Please read this, from Pope Pius XII's Mediator Dei, in which he explains how we of the royal priesthood should approach the Most Holy Sacrifice of the Mass:

91. But there is also a more profound reason why all Christians, especially those who are present at Mass, are said to offer the sacrifice.

92. In this most important subject it is necessary, in order to avoid giving rise to a dangerous error, that we define the exact meaning of the word "offer." The unbloody immolation at the words of consecration, when Christ is made present upon the Altar in the state of a victim, is performed by the priest and by him alone, as the representative of Christ and not as the representative of the faithful. But it is because the priest places the divine victim upon the Altar that he offers it to God the Father as an oblation for the glory of the Blessed Trinity and for the good of the whole Church. Now the faithful participate in the oblation, understood in this limited sense, after their own fashion and in a twofold manner, namely, because they not only offer the sacrifice by the hands of the priest, but also, to a certain extent, in union with him. It is by reason of this participation that the offering made by the people is also included in liturgical worship.

93. Now it is clear that the faithful offer the sacrifice by the hands of the priest from the fact that the minister at the Altar, in offering a sacrifice in the name of all His members, represents Christ, the Head of the Mystical Body. Hence the whole Church can rightly be said to offer up the victim through Christ. But the conclusion that the people offer the sacrifice with the priest himself is not based on the fact that, being members of the Church no less than the priest himself, they perform a visible liturgical rite; for this is the privilege only of the minister who has been divinely appointed to this office: rather it is based on the fact that the people unite their hearts in praise, impetration, expiation and thanksgiving with prayers or intention of the priest, even of the High Priest himself, so that in the one and same offering of the victim and according to a visible sacerdotal rite, they may be presented to God the Father. It is obviously necessary that the external sacrificial rite should, of its very nature, signify the internal worship of the heart. Now the sacrifice of the New Law signifies that supreme worship by which the principal Offerer himself, who is Christ, and, in union with Him and through Him, all the members of the Mystical Body pay God the honor and reverence that are due to Him.

94. We are very pleased to learn that this teaching, thanks to a more intense study of the liturgy on the part of many, especially in recent years, has been given full recognition. We must, however, deeply deplore certain exaggerations and over-statements which are not in agreement with the true teaching of the Church.

95. Some in fact disapprove altogether of those Masses which are offered privately and without any congregation, on the ground that they are a departure from the ancient way of offering the sacrifice; moreover, there are some who assert that priests cannot offer Mass at different Altars at the same time, because, by doing so, they separate the community of the faithful and imperil its unity; while some go so far as to hold that the people must confirm and ratify the sacrifice if it is to have its proper force and value.

96. They are mistaken in appealing in this matter to the social character of the eucharistic sacrifice, for as often as a priest repeats what the divine Redeemer did at the Last Supper, the sacrifice is really completed. Moreover, this sacrifice, necessarily and of its very nature, has always and everywhere the character of a public and social act, inasmuch as he who offers it acts in the name of Christ and of the faithful, whose Head is the divine Redeemer, and he offers it to God for the holy Catholic Church, and for the living and the dead.This is undoubtedly so, whether the faithful are present - as we desire and commend them to be in great numbers and with devotion - or are not present, since it is in no wise required that the people ratify what the sacred minister has done.

97. Still, though it is clear from what We have said that the Mass is offered in the name of Christ and of the Church and that it is not robbed of its social effects though it be celebrated by a priest without a server, nonetheless, on account of the dignity of such an august mystery, it is our earnest desire - as Mother Church has always commanded - that no priest should say Mass unless a server is at hand to answer the prayers, as canon 813 prescribes.

98. In order that the oblation by which the faithful offer the divine Victim in this sacrifice to the heavenly Father may have its full effect, it is necessary that the people add something else, namely, the offering of themselves as a victim.

99. This offering in fact is not confined merely to the liturgical sacrifice. For the Prince of the Apostles wishes us, as living stones built upon Christ, the cornerstone, to be able as "a holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God by Jesus Christ." St. Paul the Apostle addresses the following words of exhortation to Christians, without distinction of time, "I beseech you therefore, . . . that you present your bodies, a living sacrifice, holy, pleasing unto God, your reasonable service." But at that time especially when the faithful take part in the liturgical service with such piety and recollection that it can truly be said of them: "whose faith and devotion is known to Thee," it is then, with the High Priest and through Him they offer themselves as a spiritual sacrifice, that each one's faith ought to become more ready to work through charity, his piety more real and fervent, and each one should consecrate himself to the furthering of the divine glory, desiring to become as like as possible to Christ in His most grievous sufferings.

100. This we are also taught by those exhortations which the Bishop, in the Church's name, addresses to priests on the day of their ordination, "Understand what you do, imitate what you handle, and since you celebrate the mystery of the Lord's death, take good care to mortify your members with their vices and concupiscences." In almost the same manner the sacred books of the liturgy advise Christians who come to Mass to participate in the sacrifice: "At this . . . Altar let innocence be in honor, let pride be sacrificed, anger slain, impurity and every evil desire laid low, let the sacrifice of chastity be offered in place of doves and instead of the young pigeons the sacrifice of innocence." While we stand before the Altar, then, it is our duty so to transform our hearts, that every trace of sin may be completely blotted out, while whatever promotes supernatural life through Christ may be zealously fostered and strengthened even to the extent that, in union with the immaculate Victim, we become a victim acceptable to the eternal Father.

101. The prescriptions in fact of the sacred liturgy aim, by every means at their disposal, at helping the Church to bring about this most holy purpose in the most suitable manner possible. This is the object not only of readings, homilies and other sermons given by priests, as also the whole cycle of mysteries which are proposed for our commemoration in the course of the year, but it is also the purpose of vestments, of sacred rites and their external splendor. All these things aim at "enhancing the majesty of this great Sacrifice, and raising the minds of the faithful by means of these visible signs of religion and piety, to the contemplation of the sublime truths contained in this sacrifice."

102. All the elements of the liturgy, then, would have us reproduce in our hearts the likeness of the divine Redeemer through the mystery of the cross, according to the words of the Apostle of the Gentiles, "With Christ I am nailed to the cross. I live, now not I, but Christ liveth in me." Thus we become a victim, as it were, along with Christ to increase the glory of the eternal Father.

103. Let this, then, be the intention and aspiration of the faithful, when they offer up the divine Victim in the Mass. For if, as St. Augustine writes, our mystery is enacted on the Lord's table, that is Christ our Lord Himself, who is the Head and symbol of that union through which we are the body of Christ and members of His Body; if St. Robert Bellarmine teaches, according to the mind of the Doctor of Hippo, that in the sacrifice of the Altar there is signified the general sacrifice by which the whole Mystical Body of Christ, that is, all the city of redeemed, is offered up to God through Christ, the High Priest: nothing can be conceived more just or fitting than that all of us in union with our Head, who suffered for our sake, should also sacrifice ourselves to the eternal Father. For in the sacrament of the Altar, as the same St. Augustine has it, the Church is made to see that in what she offers she herself is offered.

104. Let the faithful, therefore, consider to what a high dignity they are raised by the sacrament of baptism. They should not think it enough to participate in the eucharistic sacrifice with that general intention which befits members of Christ and children of the Church, but let them further, in keeping with the spirit of the sacred liturgy, be most closely united with the High Priest and His earthly minister, at the time the consecration of the divine Victim is enacted, and at that time especially when those solemn words are pronounced, "By Him and with Him and in Him is to Thee, God the Father almighty, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, all honor and glory for ever and ever"; to these words in fact the people answer, "Amen." Nor should Christians forget to offer themselves, their cares, their sorrows, their distress and their necessities in union with their divine Savior upon the cross.

Now, it may be true that none of this was being paid any attention by the overwhelming majority of Catholics, but that does not mean it was not being taught by the Church.

Destroying Friendships since AD 30...

2004-08-01T23:45:00.000-04:00

Excuse me while I air some laundry, I just lost my first friend for being catholic. A friend from college, the last one actually. We met in a Communications class and had similar interests, namely carpentry and ganja. Eventually, the ganja faded into the background, but we helped each other with big projects and the like, and just enjoyed one another's company over a beer as well.

I guess it might suprise some people to learn that I was a classic liberal less than one year ago. I mean a libertarian sort of person, not a leftist. I'm still a very livberal sort of person at heart. I mean, this friend whose loss I lament tonight is the most leftist, secular soul you could imagine. And he has street cred, in the form of Two Mommies, foundresses of Atlanta's gay newspaper, SOuthern VOice. He always prided himself on his devotion to diversity, his open-minded tolerance. I know, I know, thats what leftists do, pride themselves on virtues they do not possess, or possess only in part. All I can say is, I was suckered. I honestly believed he was at least as tolerant and peacable as I. After all, I am the one still wanting to maintain our friendship, in spite of the fact that he thinks human sexuality is nothing more than scratching an itch. I figure its his loss, so long as he's been presented with a dissenting view.

I got to be the dissenter nearly a week ago. I went to visit this friend, as he had been very sick for the last week, with digestive problems. I wanted to make sure he was doing alright. We were sitting in his living room, with his live-in girlfriend, discussing a television show that had done a storyline on abortion. The discussion led to the girlfriend's stumper, "What right do you have to suppress an ancient practise like abortion?" I pointed out it was the same right that ended slavery. Later we turned to contraception. She asked if I had ever considered the argument that the Church was just trying to keep the parishes full. I pointed out that that isn't an argument, it is a dismissal. By impugning the Church's motives, she feels she can dismiss the arguments,rather than engaging them. I pointed out that whoever advanced such an idea to her as an "argument", since she wasn't owning it herself, just asking if I had considered it, must have been a fairly closeminded person not to at least engage the Church's argments in Casti Connubii and Humanae Vitae. A person secure in their position cannot be afraid to consider other perspectives. If those perspedctives are false, they pose no threat to the possession of truth. She made her exit at the first opportunity, and being the social clod that I am, I figured she was just off doing girl stuff. He and I continued to discuss the issues before us, for about 20 minutes, until I realized girlfriend wasn't returning, and so I made my exit. It was getting late anyway.

He was supposed to call within the next day. By day four, I left him a message in case he had lost my phone number. Tomorrow I'm going to call him at work and see if he may have had a relapse of what was ailing him, but I don't have a good feeling about it.

I think I've just had a friend cut our ties because he was made uncomfortable by a foriegn way of thinking. Very sad really. I'll miss him, if this is the case.

GO READ DRUDGE!!!

2004-08-01T23:12:00.000-04:00

I cannot tell you how thrilled I will be to see this become true. Even if we can't shrink the federal government on the services end*, we can shrink its need to be intrusive. If it can be established that such a tax would generate a similar revenue stream (most of the literature points to a greater revenue stream, especially longterm) and since such a system can easily handle a monthly refund or subsidy to the poor to cover what they would be likely to spend on neccessities (broadly defined, I'm not Unca' Scrooge here), it should be agreeable to all that we do away with such a wasteful and intrusive institution as the IRS.

Unless you're just out to protect the accountants and tax lawyers. But trust me, the productivity leap we're going to make will more than employ those accountants.

Now this all, of course, hinges on not only Bush's re-election, but also maintaining Republican control of the House and increasing our hold in the Senate. We don't need 60, but something close would be very nice. Remember, the increase in GNP projected, heck, half that, is going to make the last 200 years of "Land of Opportunity" sentiments seem like the reminiscences of a child of the Depression.

Talk about firing up the base, Dubya!

*I do not mean to imply there is not a great deal of waste to be trimmed from the services end of government, only that the level of services must be maintained. However, anything that increases prosperity, and jobs, reduces the rolls of those dependent on such services. We can legitimately reduce the cost of services by reducing the number of clients.

I was just looking for a topic for my initial foray into blogging

2004-08-01T17:14:00.000-04:00

I was recently asked by a "progressive" catholic fellow if I dissented from the teachings of the Pope on social justice. It was kind of shocking to be asked such a thing, since we were discussing whether or not the current president is a fiscal conservative. (Is the Pope Jewish? Ed.) Anyway, I got to thinking about that, looking back over plain-language renderings of Laborem Exercens, Solicitudo Rei Socialis and Centisimus Annus. I confess I am not nearly as familiar with them as I am with Rerum Novarum or Quadregesimo Anno, but I see no teaching on social justice that I would find objectionable. I see questionable assumptions about economics or politics that affect the outcome of the Pope's application of these principals, and because I question those assumptions, I do my best to apply the same thinking to the facts as they are, or as they appear to me at least.

So when the rubber meets the road, even though the Pope and I agree that the developed world must develop the places that lag behind, I cannot endorse foriegn aid as it is commonly formulated. Merely transferring great wealth to developing nations, or forgiving their debts outright, do nothing to aid development itself, if development is to be measured by anything other than filthy lucre. A much better system would be an imperial one, a colonialist one. It is a sad fact that India would not be what she is today without centuries of British oversight. She possessed great wealth, and yet her children starved while living in terror. It was the British system, flawed though it was, which stamped out the most unjust of Hindu and Moslem social practices and provided the infrastructure and social institutions which make India what she is today. Many of these same arguments can be made for the overbearing and heavy hand we took with the Germans and Japanese in WWII, or Iraq today. In fact, our rebuilding efforts in Babylonia are the best example of the developed developing the underdeveloped that I can imagine.

At home, I agree that workers have a right to unite in pursuing goals, within the bounds of christian morality. However, this doesn't mean a man should not be able to strike out on his own. This does not excuse the violence and intimidation regularly used by unions in America and elsewhere. It certainly does not justify the role Unions have played in politics. Because of the realities of unions, I assent to the Pope's teachings on the right to organize and the importance of solidarity, but I believe that the situation as it stands today is unconscienable, therefore American Unions are to be opposed.

I agree that the concentration of wealth in the hands of a few is a travesty of justice. However, I do not agree for a moment with using government's police power to , in effect, transfer the excess wealth of some to the masses. There are much more effective and fair methods yet untried, for example, ending the judicial precedent of interpreting "persons" in the 14th amendment to include corporations. Incidentally, interpreting persons to include only all living homo sapien beings would put an end to abortion as well.

In short, I do my best to conform myself to the social teachings of the Popes, even when we disagree on the details of reality itself.