Saturday, July 23, 2011

I feel somewhat embarrassed of the early posting. I do not believe any ideology could change the world for the better. I much prefer personal sanctity (another topic altogether). I should have known better that although neither secular nor religious piety makes for personal sanctity, but telling someone, even if it's Thomas Friedman of New York Times, to go f*** himself, is definitely no way to holiness.

So here as a non sequitur to a non sequitur, let me share this delightful account by the one-and-only Max Lindenman at Diary of a Wimpy Catholic, of his encounter with St. Anthony:
Call it a Proustian moment. I remembered prosperity and nice accessories, an uncomplicated life of consumption. Then I remembered St. Joseph. Thinking again on my contacts, not wanting them to remain in situ as relics of an age, I recited:
“Dear St. Anthony,
I beg by the Rood:
Help find my contacts,
Or, baby, I’m screwed.”

China for a Day

Thomas Friedman, columnist of the New York Times, explaining his "China for a day" dream:



After your enlightenment session with Mr. Friedman, watch this next video. Visit Reggie Littlejohn's website if you are so inclined. Then think and decide for yourself the price of "efficiency" which Mr. Friedman so covets and wet-dreams about (by the way, nice chuckle, Brave Dave Gregory).


Update: I've taken the last part of the original post out because I couldn't stand the voice of a certain little bird chastising me, a voice that sounded a lot like...hmm, Conscience? Besides, tomorrow is Sunday, it was a bad way to move into a Sunday, to say the least. 


Friday, July 15, 2011

G.K. on Oscar

I have just (and FINALLY, sigh) finished reading The Picture of Dorian Gray, so I'm on an Oscar Wilde kick; and I've just picked up Orthodoxy by G. K. Chesterton (may I call him My Prince?) to read it for the second time, I am also on a GKC kick. It follows that it was irresistible for me to cut out and paste this quote by My Prince as I came across it:

"Oscar Wilde said that sunsets were not valued because we could not pay for sunsets. But Oscar Wilde was wrong; we can pay for sunsets. We can pay for them by not being Oscar Wilde."
A disclaimer: I don't dislike Oscar Wilde. In fact, if I run into him in an elevator today, I'd kiss his boyish cheek.

My Kiss to John Lennon

I'm posting the lyrics of John Lennon's Nobody Told Me. It has nothing to do whatever with what's on my mind or how I feel today. In fact, contrary to the madness and entropy described in the song, I'm feeling rather lucid and upbeat. The lyrics came up in an early morning conversation with KDM on our way to the chapel, and I simply wanted to share. I find a perverse delight in the contradictions laid out like a deck of cards by Lennon. It's up for grabs. Take it as you will:


Everybody's talking and no one says a word

Everybody's making love and no one really cares

There's nazis in the bathroom just below the stairs.
Always something happening and nothing going on

There's always something cooking and nothing in the pot

They're starving back in China so finish what you got.
They're starving back in China so finish what you got.
Nobody told me there'd be days like these

Nobody told me there'd be days like these

Nobody told me there'd be days like these

Strange days indeed
strange days indeed.
Everybody's runnin' and no one makes a move

Everyone's a winner
and no one seems to lose.
There's a little yellow idol to the north of Katmandu.
Everybody's flying and no one leaves the ground

Everybody's crying and no one makes a sound.
There's a place for us in movies you just gotta stay around.

Nobody told me there'd be days like these

Nobody told me there'd be days like these

Nobody told me there'd be days like these

Strange days indeed
most peculiar
Mama.
Everybody's smoking and no one's getting high

Everybody's flying and never touch the sky

There's Ufo's over New York and I ain't too surprised.
Nobody told me there'd be days like these

Nobody told me there'd be days like these

Nobody told me there'd be days like these

Strange days indeed
most peculiar. Mama.