A Truly Terrible Joke

From my dear friend Fran:

Two cops see a car weaving erratically on the road ahead, so they pursue and stop the auto. One of the cops walks over to the vehicle and sees a plain plastic sports bottle on the seat next to the driver. The driver just happens to be a priest - collar and all.

The cop says "Father - I need to see your license and registration." So the priest hands it over without comment. The cop then asks if the priest has been drinking, to which the priest replies "No!". Then the cop proceeds to ask the priest about the sports bottle on the passenger seat and the priest says that it is "just water." The cop doesn't believe him, but goes back to the patrol car to run the license and so forth.

When he finds no prior offenses, he and the other cop saunter back to Father's car. The other cop then asks to see the sports bottle, which the priest hands over without hesitation.

It is filled with wine!!

The cop looks at his partner and says "I told you that I was Catholic. This is what happens every time!"

Father says, "He's done it again! Halleluiah".

Thanks to Doorman-Priest, in the comments, for the revised punchline. What do you think?

Fran sez, "That is truly terrible - is it not Mimi????"

Mimi sez, "Fran it is - truly."

Still Beating The Dead Horse

I know. Y'all are getting tired and bored with my blathering on about the whole Obama-Wright affair, which would not be a story at all, if they were two white men. But what I believe you're seeing is the response to a "scary black man". This may be my last post on the subject, but I make no promises.

From Charlie Reese at Lewrockwell.com, a libertarian website. Rockwell is a supporter of Ron Paul.

He [Wright] does not lower his eyes, bow and scrape, eat crow or humble pie, or apologize. If you insult him, he'll insult you back. I like the guy a whole lot. I disagree with him on some points, but I've come to like and admire him. He makes a better speech than most candidates, and certainly a better and more intelligent one than the so-called pundits.
....

Here was a distinguished man with an exceptionally great career watching his whole life being reduced to a few sound bites created by some political trash. He finally had enough. He was interviewed by Bill Moyers, and he made two great speeches, one at the National Press Club and one at the NAACP national convention. Now let's look at the media trick involved in this.
....

Now, in the first place, this was the old guilt-by-association gimmick – Sen. Obama, you either have to denounce this man or we will assume you agree with and condone all of his views. Bull. The Rev. Wright is not part of the Obama campaign, doesn't write his speeches and doesn't speak for him. Obama should have said: "Look, we have no connection except a personal one. I've told you I don't agree with all of his views, but I cherish his friendship, and if you don't like that, you can go to hell. And if you have any questions about him or his views, ask him, not me." Then he should have stuck to his campaign message and ignored any questions about the Rev. Wright.

Instead, Obama caved in to the media pressure. As a result, I think a lot more of Wright than I do of Obama. No one should ever let somebody else tell him who he is supposed to like and dislike, and whose views he is supposed to denounce. When people write off other human beings because of a difference of opinion, then you know those people are fanatics. Obama claimed to be offended that the Rev. Wright said Obama had to speak as a politician while he had to speak as a pastor. Then Obama did exactly what the Rev. Wright said he would do – he spoke like a politician.

Yes, I know that the Rev. Wright purchased property in an exclusive, predominantly white community (Imagine!) and is building a house that will cost $1.6 million, with help from the congregation of the church from which he's retiring, but what's that got to do with it? He won't be the first religious leader living in luxury, nor will he be the last.

UPDATE: Thanks to Jim at JindalWatch for the link to Reese's column. While you're there, you can read about the near escape of the Louisiana legislators from having to eat cheap meals in his "The Fear of Taco Bell still Looms Large" post.

UPDATE 2: And the beat goes on. Read Frank Rich's column in the New York Times.

Wake Me Up

A man and his wife were having some problems at home and were giving each other the silent treatment. Suddenly, the man realized that the next day, he would need his wife to wake him at 5:00 AM for an early morning business flight. Not wanting to be the first to break the silence (and LOSE), he wrote on a piece of paper, "Please wake me at 5:00 AM." He left it where he knew she would find it.

The next morning, the man woke up, only to discover it was 9:00 AM and he had missed his flight. Furious, he was about to go and see why his wife hadn't wakened him, when he noticed a piece of paper by the bed. The paper said, "It is 5:00 AM. Wake up."

Men are not equipped for these kinds of contests.

Doug strikes again.

Moyers On Wright - A Voice Of Sanity

From Bill Moyers' Journal:

....Many of you have asked for some rational explanation for Wright's transition from reasonable conversation to shocking anger at the National Press Club. A psychologist might pull back some of the layers and see this complicated man more clearly, but I'm not a psychologist. Many black preachers I've known — scholarly, smart, and gentle in person — uncorked fire and brimstone in the pulpit. Of course I've known many white preachers like that, too.

But where I grew up in the south, before the civil rights movement, the pulpit was a safe place for black men to express anger for which they would have been punished anywhere else; a safe place for the fierce thunder of dignity denied, justice delayed. I think I would have been angry if my ancestors had been transported thousands of miles in the hellish hole of a slave ship, then sold at auction, humiliated, whipped, and lynched. Or if my great-great grandfather had been but three-fifths of a person in a constitution that proclaimed, "We the people." Or if my own parents had been subjected to the racial vitriol of Jim Crow, Strom Thurmond, Bull Connor, and Jesse Helms. Even so, the anger of black preachers I've known and heard about and reported on was, for them, very personal and cathartic.
....

But in this multimedia age the pulpit isn't only available on Sunday mornings. There's round the clock media — the beast whose hunger is never satisfied, especially for the fast food with emotional content. So the preacher starts with rational discussion and after much prodding throws more and more gasoline on the fire that will eventually consume everything it touches. He had help — people who for their own reasons set out to conflate the man in the pulpit who wasn't running for president with the man in the pew who was.

Behold the double standard: John McCain sought out the endorsement of John Hagee, the war-mongering Catholic-bashing Texas preacher who said the people of New Orleans got what they deserved for their sins. But no one suggests McCain shares Hagee's delusions, or thinks AIDS is God's punishment for homosexuality. Pat Robertson called for the assassination of a foreign head of state and asked God to remove Supreme Court justices, yet he remains a force in the Republican religious right. After 9/11 Jerry Falwell said the attack was God's judgment on America for having been driven out of our schools and the public square, but when McCain goes after the endorsement of the preacher he once condemned as an agent of intolerance, the press gives him a pass.
....

Which means it is all about race, isn't it? Wright's offensive opinions and inflammatory appearances are judged differently. He doesn't fire a shot in anger, put a noose around anyone's neck, call for insurrection, or plant a bomb in a church with children in Sunday school. What he does is to speak his mind in a language and style that unsettle some people, and says some things so outlandish and ill-advised that he finally leaves Obama no choice but to end their friendship. We are often exposed to the corroding acid of the politics of personal destruction, but I've never seen anything like this, this wrenching break between pastor and parishioner before our very eyes. Both men no doubt will carry the grief to their graves. All the rest of us should hang our heads in shame for letting it come to this in America, where the gluttony of the non-stop media grinder consumes us all and prevents an honest conversation on race. It is the price we are paying for failing to heed the great historian Jacob Burckhardt, who said "beware the terrible simplifiers".

I grew up in that same south in the same period as Moyers. He writes the truth. I've quoted nearly the entire transcript, but I beg you to read the rest or watch the video here. As I've said before, Bill Moyers is national treasure, and I don't know if we will see his likes again in the media, probably not in my lifetime.

For another voice of sanity in the midst of the madess, I refer you once again to Rmj at Adventus, who can't let this go any more than I can let it go.

You'll Never Know - Alice Faye

MadPriest has a send-in-your-song contest to see which of the favorite love songs of his readers will win a play from his vast collection of recordings - 50,000 songs, he says. I have more than one favorite love song, but I sent in "You'll Never Know", sung by Alice Faye (not Frank Sinatra or Dick Haynes) as one of my favorites. Now he's in pain and can't post often, and who knows when he will get back to the contest, and, in any case, I may not win a place of honor. Alice sang the song in a movie, "Hello, Frisco, Hello" in 1943. I saw the film at the tender age of nine, but I was already a full-blown romantic. I loved the song at the time, and I have loved it ever since. Alice, with her lovely and sexy alto voice, sings the song beautifully.

Since I was feeling impatient waiting for MadPriest, I searched for and found the movie clip of her singing the song on YouTube. Praise be! I even remembered that in the movie, she sang the song on the phone. John Payne starred opposite her in the film.

Alice married Phil Harris, the band leader in 1941, and their marriage lasted for 54 years, until Phil died. They had two children named appropriately, Alice, Jr and Phyllis. The word was that Phil liked his booze, and he joked about it himself. I don't know how much substance there was to the story, but it didn't affect his marriage nor his longevity. Alice and Phil both loved New Orleans, which, of course, endeared them to me. Can you believe that Phil's original first name was Wonga? Maybe that was the source of his comedic side.

Here's the link to her bio and to Phil's.

"China Prepares for the Olympics :>)"

I love it.


I hope you guys like to share.


I hope we all like to share.

From Doug, who says as far as he knows, these are real.

Elaine And Pain

MadPriest has a pain in the neck. I have a pain in the knee. All of this is getting to be a large PITA. I offer this bit of dialog from "Seinfeld":

ELAINE'S OFFICE - DAY

Elaine is sitting at her desk smelling a pen.

ELAINE (thinking): This pen smells really bad. So why do I keep smelling it? Is it too late for me to go to law school?

There's a knock on the door and several co-workers enter with a cake.

ELAINE: What is this?

MALE WORKER: You were out sick yesterday, so we got you a get-well cake.

FEMALE WORKER: It's carrot. It's good for you.

WORKERS (singing): Get well get well soon, we wish you to get--

ELAINE: Stop it! That's not even a song! I mean, now we're celebrating a sick day?

MALE WORKER: I think it's nice.

ELAINE: What? What is nice? Trying to fill the void in your life with flour and sugar and egg and vanilla? I mean, we are all unhappy. Do we have to be fat, too? Not you Becky, I know you have a slow metabolism. I don't want one more piece of cake in my office!

Another worker enters late.

WORKER (singing): Get well, get well soon--

MALE WORKER: It's not happening.

They all start to leave disappointed.

BECKY: Can we still eat it?

So much for pain. Get thee away from us, Pain! I want laughs!

Do go and offer prayers and sympathy to MadPriest. He's worse off than I am.

Photo from Wiki.

"Embodied Fel(in)icity"

Today's must-read is from Tobias at In a Godward Direction. The picture above is none other than Her Royal Highness Augusta Victoria, who reigns at the rectory.

Speaking Of Knees

With two runners on base and a strike against her, Sara Tucholsky of Western Oregon University uncorked her best swing and did something she had never done, in high school or college. She hit her first home run, which cleared the center field fence.

But it looked like the shortest of dreams-come-true when she missed first base, started back to tag it, and collapsed with a knee injury.

She crawled back to first but could do no more. The first base coach said she would be called out if her teammates tried to help her. Or, the umpire said, a pinch-runner could be called in, and the homer would count as just a single.

Then, members of the Central Washington University softball team stunned their home crowd in Ellensburg by carrying Tucholsky around the bases Saturday so the three-run homer would count - an act that contributed to their own elimination from the playoffs.

First baseman for Central Washington University, Mallory Holtman:

"In the end, it is not about winning and losing so much," Holtman said, "It was about this girl. She hit it over the fence and was in pain, and she deserved a home run."

Link to the story from Ann, who said, "I love this story - one because of the action and two - because I love softball and baseball."

I love it, too. Thanks, Ann

From CBS News.

New Napa Valley Wine

California vintners in the Napa Valley area, which primarily produce Pinot Blanc, Pinot Noir and Pinot Grigio wines, have developed a new hybrid grape that acts as an anti-diuretic. It is expected to reduce the number of trips older people have to make to the bathroom during the night.

The new wine will be marketed as..

PINO MORE

I HEARD IT THROUGH THE GRAPEVINE

I'll bet even Dennis, the former wine merchant, doesn't know about this one.

From the ever faithful Doug.