...get tired of blogging and blogs and wonder if the time and effort is worth it, and if you do any good at all, and if the time could be better spent in reading a good book, or an even more worthwhile and unselfish activity?
I've got the low-dirty-livin-in-a bloggerland blues
And I'm runnin' out of things to say
I don't need no strife, just drop me in my life
I've got to feel the rhythm runnin' down in my shoes
With deep apologies to Ruthie Foster and her wonderful "Small Town Blues", which is an anthem for me.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Story Of The Day - Riding Home
You may not remember the time you let
me go first. Or the time you dropped
back to tell me it wasn't that far to go.
Or the time you waited at the crossroads
for me to catch up. You may not
remember any of those, but I do & this is
what I have to say to you: today, no
matter what it takes, we ride home
together.
From StoryPeople.
me go first. Or the time you dropped
back to tell me it wasn't that far to go.
Or the time you waited at the crossroads
for me to catch up. You may not
remember any of those, but I do & this is
what I have to say to you: today, no
matter what it takes, we ride home
together.
From StoryPeople.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Good For Mary Landrieu
Times-Picayune:
Seldom has something as mundane as tinkering with the Federal Medical Assistance Percentage spawned such sensational condemnation.
On the eve of her pivotal vote last weekend to allow the Senate to proceed with consideration of health reform, it was revealed that Sen. Mary Landrieu, D-La., had secured a provision in the bill that would make a "special adjustment'' in the FMAP determination, bringing her home state between $100 million and $300 million in additional Medicaid money.
She had sold her vote, critics cried, in what they called the "Louisiana Purchase.'' Both Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck, in their broadcasts Monday, referred to Landrieu as a high-priced prostitute.
Yes, Beck and Limbaugh are calling Mary a whore, which is, when you think about it, a badge of honor coming from those two bottom feeders. I don't blame her one bit for holding out for the money. The health care system for the poor in New Orleans was not in good shape before Katrina but now is in a worse state, with Medicaid picking up the bill and punching a big hole in the state budget. One reason for the difficulty in getting health care to poor people is that a good portion of the medical infrastructure was flooded, not from Katrina, but from the FEDERAL FLOOD caused by faulty levees constructed by the U. S. Corps of Engineers, the levees which gave way and did not do the job of protecting the city. Only a fraction of the help that was promised by the federal government to the devastated city was actually given.
Mary's vote will cost her dearly in Louisiana, and it will help a little to be able to take home something to attempt to appease the local vultures that will be circling. Don't complain to me about Mary selling her vote, because I believe she did the right thing by voting as she did and by holding out for the money. Good for her.
Heaven II
She said you know what heaven is like?
& I said I wasn't sure & she laughed &
said grown-ups didn't know much at all
about important stuff & I said I had to
agree with her even though I was one of
them myself.
From StoryPeople.
& I said I wasn't sure & she laughed &
said grown-ups didn't know much at all
about important stuff & I said I had to
agree with her even though I was one of
them myself.
From StoryPeople.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
First Sunday In Advent
Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
Psalm 146
Praise the Lord!
Praise the Lord, O my soul!
I will praise the Lord as long as I live;
I will sing praises to my God all my life long.
Do not put your trust in princes,
in mortals, in whom there is no help.
When their breath departs, they return to the earth;
on that very day their plans perish.
Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob,
whose hope is in the Lord their God,
who made heaven and earth,
the sea, and all that is in them;
who keeps faith for ever;
who executes justice for the oppressed;
who gives food to the hungry.
The Lord sets the prisoners free;
the Lord opens the eyes of the blind.
The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down;
the Lord loves the righteous.
The Lord watches over the strangers;
he upholds the orphan and the widow,
but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin.
The Lord will reign for ever,
your God, O Zion, for all generations.
Praise the Lord!
1 Thessalonians 5:1-11
Now concerning the times and the seasons, brothers and sisters, you do not need to have anything written to you. For you yourselves know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. When they say, ‘There is peace and security’, then sudden destruction will come upon them, as labour pains come upon a pregnant woman, and there will be no escape! But you, beloved, are not in darkness, for that day to surprise you like a thief; for you are all children of light and children of the day; we are not of the night or of darkness. So then, let us not fall asleep as others do, but let us keep awake and be sober; for those who sleep sleep at night, and those who are drunk get drunk at night. But since we belong to the day, let us be sober, and put on the breastplate of faith and love, and for a helmet the hope of salvation. For God has destined us not for wrath but for obtaining salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us, so that whether we are awake or asleep we may live with him. Therefore encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing.
READINGS:
AM Psalm 146, 147; PM Psalm 111, 112, 113
Amos 1:1-5,13-2:8; 1 Thess. 5:1-11; Luke 21:5-19
No, It's Still Not Over Yet
The day before Thanksgiving, an elderly man in Phoenix calls his son in New York and says, "I hate to ruin your day, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing; forty-five years of misery is enough."
"Pop, what are you talking about?" the son screams.
"We can't stand the sight of each other any longer," the old man says. "We're sick and tired of each other, and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Chicago and tell her." And he hangs up.
Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone. "Like Hell they're getting a divorce," she shouts. "I'll take care of this!" She calls Phoenix immediately, and screams at the old man, "You are NOT getting divorced! Don't do a single thing until I get there! I'm calling my brother back and we'll both be there tomorrow. Until then don't do a thing,
DO YOU HEAR ME?" And she hangs up.
The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife. "Okay, the kids will be here for Thanksgiving."
Paul (A.) sent the joke to me in plenty of time to post on the day BEFORE Thanksgiving, but I forgot. Here it is squeezed in just before Advent.
"Pop, what are you talking about?" the son screams.
"We can't stand the sight of each other any longer," the old man says. "We're sick and tired of each other, and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Chicago and tell her." And he hangs up.
Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone. "Like Hell they're getting a divorce," she shouts. "I'll take care of this!" She calls Phoenix immediately, and screams at the old man, "You are NOT getting divorced! Don't do a single thing until I get there! I'm calling my brother back and we'll both be there tomorrow. Until then don't do a thing,
DO YOU HEAR ME?" And she hangs up.
The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife. "Okay, the kids will be here for Thanksgiving."
Paul (A.) sent the joke to me in plenty of time to post on the day BEFORE Thanksgiving, but I forgot. Here it is squeezed in just before Advent.
NEW ORLEANS - A "GENIUS LOCI"
 |
| "Bad Lieutenant" |
Directed by Werner Herzog, the film stars Cage as a New Orleans police detective traipsing about post-Katrina New Orleans, snorting, popping and smoking whatever drugs he can while threatening witnesses in pursuit of savage killers.Why film the movie in New Orleans?
The film is not an outright remake of 1992's "Bad Lieutenant," which starred Harvey Keitel, but rather Herzog and Cage's take on the idea of a cop without conscience, doing his job in a sometimes hallucinatory fog.
"Bad Lieutenant" marked Cage's first time working in New Orleans since he shot his directing debut there with 2002's "Sonny." Cage said he was anxious about returning, because he had a life-changing experience in New Orleans during the "Sonny" shoot.I haven't read a better description of my beloved native city in quite a while. His words on jazz as a metaphor for the city are brilliant. Not everyone "gets" New Orleans. Not all of the native-born "feel" the city, and then there are those who come from far-away places who "feel" the city right away.
"In some ways, you could say that I was reborn in New Orleans, and I had this terrifying, mystical experience," said Cage, who would not provide details about what happened.
Critics might assail Cage for his action movies, but they're heaping praise on the actor for the frenzy and fearlessness of his role in "Bad Lieutenant."
New Orleans might have something to do with that, Cage said. Going back was a catharsis, and the city's spirit helped inspire his performance, he said.
"New Orleans is not like any place else in the world. It was colonized by the French and Spanish, it has these African energies, and all these things sort of roll into one to create this genius loci, which is the reason we have jazz," Cage said.
"I felt that I could embrace that, and that I could maybe have a bit of jazz, or my understanding of jazz, in the delivery. Which, my understanding is, that you know the lines so well that you go off-page and you improvise, and you can riff, and you can soak that energy up if you're willing to listen to it. And that's what I think happened." (My emphasis)
I may have to see the movie, although "explosive violence" is not really my thing. Here's a link to the review of the film in the Boston Globe.
No, It's Not Over Yet
Thanksgiving, Kindergarten Style
For most people, Thanksgiving is a time to reflect on what we've been given and savor the scents of crisp autumn days and pumpkin pie.
For me, it's a little more complicated.
One November afternoon when my daughter was in kindergarten, I picked her up after school. She bobbed out to the car and crawled into the back seat.
"What did you do today?" I asked. She couldn't wait to tell me.
"We learned that boys are different from girls," she chirped.
Looking into the rearview mirror, I could just see the top of her head.
"My teacher told us that boys have a thing the girls don't," she added
"Well, yes they do..." I said cautiously.
I couldn't think of anything else to say, so we were quiet for a moment. Then she piped up again. "That's how girls know that boys are boys," she said. "They see that thing that hangs down and they know that he is a boy."
I mentally calculated the distance home. Our five-minute commute already felt like an hour.
"Did you know that when the boys see a girl they puff up?" My palms were beginning to sweat. "Um...well..."
I was still searching for something new to say, to change the subject, when she asked, "Why do the girls like the boys to have those things?" Well I didn't know what to say. I mean, what woman hasn't asked herself that question at least once?
"Oh, well...um..." I stammered.
She didn't wait for my answer. She had her own. "It's cause it moves when they walk and then the girls see that and that's when they know they are boys and that's when they like them. Then the boy sees the girl and he puffs up, and then the girl knows he likes her, too. And then they get married. And then they get cooked."
That last part confused me a bit, but on the whole I thought she had a pretty good grasp on things.
As soon as we got home and I pulled into the garage, she hopped out of the car, fishing something out of her school bag.
"I drew a picture," she said. "Do you want to see?"
I wasn't sure I did, but I looked at it anyway. I had to sit down.
There, all puffed up so to speak, looking mighty attractive for the ladies, was a crayon drawing of a great big Tom Turkey. His snood, the thing that hangs down over his beak, the thing that female turkeys find so irresistible, was magnificent. His tail feathers were standing tall and proud.
She was a little offended that I laughed so hard at her drawing, and I laughed until I cried. But when I told her I loved it - and I did - she got over her pique.
That was the end of that, for her anyway. But I'm not so lucky.
Every year I remember that conversation.
And to be honest, I haven't looked at a turkey, or a man, the same way since.
Thanks to Bob.
For most people, Thanksgiving is a time to reflect on what we've been given and savor the scents of crisp autumn days and pumpkin pie.
For me, it's a little more complicated.
One November afternoon when my daughter was in kindergarten, I picked her up after school. She bobbed out to the car and crawled into the back seat.
"What did you do today?" I asked. She couldn't wait to tell me.
"We learned that boys are different from girls," she chirped.
Looking into the rearview mirror, I could just see the top of her head.
"My teacher told us that boys have a thing the girls don't," she added
"Well, yes they do..." I said cautiously.
I couldn't think of anything else to say, so we were quiet for a moment. Then she piped up again. "That's how girls know that boys are boys," she said. "They see that thing that hangs down and they know that he is a boy."
I mentally calculated the distance home. Our five-minute commute already felt like an hour.
"Did you know that when the boys see a girl they puff up?" My palms were beginning to sweat. "Um...well..."
I was still searching for something new to say, to change the subject, when she asked, "Why do the girls like the boys to have those things?" Well I didn't know what to say. I mean, what woman hasn't asked herself that question at least once?
"Oh, well...um..." I stammered.
She didn't wait for my answer. She had her own. "It's cause it moves when they walk and then the girls see that and that's when they know they are boys and that's when they like them. Then the boy sees the girl and he puffs up, and then the girl knows he likes her, too. And then they get married. And then they get cooked."
That last part confused me a bit, but on the whole I thought she had a pretty good grasp on things.
As soon as we got home and I pulled into the garage, she hopped out of the car, fishing something out of her school bag.
"I drew a picture," she said. "Do you want to see?"
I wasn't sure I did, but I looked at it anyway. I had to sit down.
There, all puffed up so to speak, looking mighty attractive for the ladies, was a crayon drawing of a great big Tom Turkey. His snood, the thing that hangs down over his beak, the thing that female turkeys find so irresistible, was magnificent. His tail feathers were standing tall and proud.
She was a little offended that I laughed so hard at her drawing, and I laughed until I cried. But when I told her I loved it - and I did - she got over her pique.
That was the end of that, for her anyway. But I'm not so lucky.
Every year I remember that conversation.
And to be honest, I haven't looked at a turkey, or a man, the same way since.
Thanks to Bob.
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