How About This Christmas Miracle

Tony Blair enters the Roman Catholic Faith.

Welcome home, Mr. Blair.

And the winner is... no one.

The next line is: "As it was, he had one which showed every now and then and gave him a rather sinister appearance. "

- "The Doom of the Darnaways" G.K. Chesterton

No winner this week!!!

Quote for the Day

"If he was toothless, he might have been handsome."

If anyone can guess who wrote that, they win a great prize!!

Seeking Time

If anyone is selling time, I'd like to buy a few shares. I do understand that I will be refunded my one hour deposit that was required in the Spring, but I think that I might be in need of a few more units. Thank you in advance.

Call to Blog - Straight from the Top

Cardinal Urges Religious to Get BloggingSays Internet Youth Forums Need Real Christian Message
ROME, OCT. 28, 2007 (Zenit.org).

- Benedict XVI's vicar for the Diocese of Rome expressed his hopes that religious men and women increase their use of information technology, and thus take advantage of what he called a new form of apostolate.Cardianl Camillo Ruini spoke to the religious at the Pontifical Urbanian University during the diocesan gathering of the Union of Major Superiors of Italy, which represents 1,287 communities and 22,000 religious in Rome.

According to the Roman diocesan weekly RomaSette, Cardinal Ruini said: "A priest from Novara told me that the theme of 'Jesus' is very much discussed by youth in blogs. The focus, though, comes from destructive books that are widespread today, and not from Benedict XVI’s book ‘Jesus of Nazareth.'"What will the idea of Christ be in 10 years if these ideas triumph?"

The true Jesus

The 76-year-old prelate admitted, "I don’t understand the Internet, but especially young religious ought to enter blogs and correct the opinions of the youth, showing them the true Jesus.”

“The teaching emergency is central in Benedict XVI's concerns," the cardinal said. "For him, education in the faith coincides with service to society, because to form someone in the faith means to form the human person."Simply giving motivations for living defeats nihilism and gives value to the human person, a value that is based on Christ himself, the fact that God became a man."The cardinal asserted that an educator’s testimony and content can matter more than pedagogical techniques.

He called for catechists to be creative in finding occasions for promoting Benedict XVI’s book, saying it shows the solidity of faith in the historical Jesus of the Gospels, and bases the identity of the Christian in a personal encounter with Jesus Christ. Cardinal Ruini said that in Catholic schools, "the religious can witness to Christ in all their lessons, in the sciences, in history and even in Italian literature, in an inseparable union of faith and culture. Your creativity ought to find new techniques for the vocational challenge, which ought to develop in step with society."

Definition of Insanity

"A supporter, Richard Verrier, said it's not enough to depend on parents to protect their children because there may be students who can't discuss things with their parents."

This is the reason that a Middle School has voted to provide 11 year old girls with birth control pills without the consent or knowledge of their parents.

As a teacher, I can't take my kids on a field trip to the zoo, give them an aspirin, get their ears pierced or give them tests on Mondays without their parents permission... yet, apparently, I could give them access to something that normally requires a prescription and is a controlled substance.

Despite the fact that the side effects of birth control are infertility, heart attack, stroke and possibly death...

Despite the fact that the side effects of sexual activity outside of marriage means death to the soul, severe psychological problems, low self-esteem and could result in self destructive behavior....

By all means, keep the parents out this. What do they know?

A Protestant Confession

There is a beautiful chapter in Hawthornes Marble Faun that includes a Protestant seeking to relieve her guilt and burdens in a Catholic Confessional. The link is here.

In this scene, the girl rationalizes that confession is such a beautiful thing, why should it be reserved for only the Catholics. So, she tries to avail herself of the sacrament, and indeed feels better afterwards, but refuses to enter the fold as the priest offers afterward.

Herein, Hawthorne is like the Israelites who, fresh from the slavery of Egypt, are able to SEE the promised land, but for various reasons - perhaps for fear of "giants who eat their own children" -refuse to enter it. Although they recognize and see the beauties that have been promised to them, and to which they have a right as children of God, they refuse to take part.

As a writer, Hawthorne struggled with the idea of guilt and felt that his family had a great burden to carry because of their part in the Salem Witch Trials. He traveled to Italy, and his daughter eventually converted to Catholicism and began the Hawthorne Dominicans whose mission it is to care for the elderly and dying.

While Hawthorne is a prolific writer and has gifted the world with some excellent works, his true gift to the world has to be his daughter, Rose. You can find out more information about her here.

CALLING ALL ROMAN CATHOLICS

Okay, so there's this blog My Blessed Home. And this kind Christian lady has taken it upon herself to post all sorts of lies, distortion, misconceptions and all sorts of slander against the Holy Roman Catholic Church under the guise of "trying to help Catholics" be saved. (Only Christ can do that, right?)

Anyway, out of Christian charity, I am asking all Catholics who read her blog or this blog to commit to saying Hail Marys for this woman's conversion.

Also, can someone explain to me about the Green Scapular - can I wear it for someone else?

I have to admit, part of me just wants her to stop spreading her lies, but more than that, she is intrigued by the Truth and we just need to pray for her so that she can come to a full understanding of it.

So, please commit to saying a Hail Mary for this lady at least once a day. We could really storm heaven and make a novena for her during this holy month of the Rosary.

Afterall, if she is so concerned about having a blessed home, then Our Lady really should be her patroness and we can storm heaven for that intention.

So, please, tell your friends, commit to saying some rosaries for her conversion, and then we'll let God do the rest.

And don't bother commenting on her blog. She never responds to Catholics or posts their comments.

I'm Sleepy Today

I was up until maybe 2-ish last night reading:Black as Night by Regina Doman. Now, some of you may say "SHE'S SO BEHIND!!" and for that, I am entirely guilty... but I love it just the same.

I love the complex characters, I love the distrust that seems to come so easily both the Bear and to the Reader. And I love the monks in this one!!!

*sigh* I'm not finished, but if you need me in the next 24 hours, I'll be hiding around every corner trying to snatch a few more pages in! I'll let you know how it ends tomorrow.

GYPSIES

There is definitely a bit of gypsy running through my veins, either from the Irish or Hungarian (or both) sides. When not physically travelling, I feel a great need to always be learning, reading, talking of new things to learn, see and do.

I think Gypsies are just attuned to the fact that earth isn't our final resting place, and so they spend their lives in constant pilgrimage.

Which is why THIS meeting of the Pope and Gypsy priests, deacons and religious is so cool.

As a bonus, here's a beautiful story about Madonna and the Gypsy.

Letter to American Boys

We're reading George MacDonald's The Princess and the Goblins for my 7th grade Literature class. Its a fabulous story, and I would highly recommend it to everyone of any age.

While doing some research on George MacDonald, I found this: A Letter to American Boys.

Its a long read, but a great story.

To sum up: Love your mother.

Wipe Out

Yeah... so I totally wiped out today in front of all my students. And this wasn't just a little slip, and catch yourself. Oh no... this was absolute, feet went one way, I was suspended in midair for about 2 seconds, and then, splat, right on the sidewalk. After the initial shock, I picked myself up - only to see that the kids were right inside the door, staring wide eyed and open-mouthed.

"Are you okay?" they asked with concern.

"Yeah, did you just see me totally wipe out?"

"uh... no."

I knew it was a lie, but I was grateful for it.

Lessons from the Camino #1

So, today's Gospel is Christ healing the man with the withered hand. While on the Camino de Santiago this summer with my sister, we ran into a most extraordinary man with the following story:

He lived in a house during his college years with two buddies. They were three self-avowed partiers who spent their time smoking pot, drinking, having parties and going to school. The first roommate, went on a weekend retreat with Campus Crusade on a whim, and gave his life to Christ. Normally, I don't believe in conversion stories like this... but the gentlemen telling us this story said that his life certainly changed overnight - he started doing the dishes.

Roommate #2 had been raised in a semi-Catholic home... but was really in the same state as the other two pre-conversion roommates. He thought it was 'cool' when the first roommate changed his life, and wished he could just as easily break his twice-a-day-pot-habit... but knew that he was too weak. One day, Roommate #2 decides the day has come when he is going to get drunk alone, by himself. He was invited to a party, but this would be something new, something novel... so he dressed up in a 3 piece suit, a prisoner to his execution, donned a fedora... got on his bike, and pedaled to the liquor store. Like St. Paul, he was knocked to the ground, and injured his right arm. Since his glorious solopsistic bachanal had been spoiled, he decided to join the party. After a night of partying, he realized that his arm hurt... and so he headed to the hospital, was treated for a broken arm, and released back to the party.

What a party it was. He had difficulty brushing his teeth the next morning as he tried to use the arm he had broken reaching for alcholism. He then tried the withered arm, the arm that he never used before - his left arm. When that didn't work, he heard God tell him, "you've always relied on your own strength... and when you faced something you couldn't overcome, it broke you. Your arm is broken. Now is the time for you to rely on Me, but you have no strength for that either because you have never exercised your spiritual life. That withered spiritual life is like your left arm, withered and useless. "

But St. Paul wasn't kidding when he said, "I can do all things in Christ who strengthens me."

Roommate #2 is now a Catholic priest.

If you love Tennis, You'll Love Djokovic

Just for laughs. Check this out.

Republican Presidential Debates

So, after a long day at work - it was one of those days where little gets done, but it seemed so complicated anyway!! My sister and I decided to head that 1.25 hrs. away to see the Republican candidates face off at the hockey arena in Durham, NH.

It did seem fitting that they held these debates in a college town in a sports arena. There was much posturing, skating around questions, sly body slams, goals discussed and points scored. There were not, however, any squid thrown.

We didn't have tickets because I didn't reserve them properly, but we showed up anyway, 2.5 hours before the debates began. They, of course, did not have our names on the roster, but told us to come back at 8:15pm and they might be able to accomodate us. We hit a great coffee and gelato place for the interim, walking what seemed like a mile in heels (ouch!! but worth it).

After a nice cappuccino and brownie, we headed back only to find a two pronged line that strangely resembled a snakes tongue. I don't believe in getting in line without knowing what its for... so we joined it about halfway to the door. This was lucky, because we ran into a great friend and college roommate, Representative Maureen Mooney with whom we shared the rest of the line journey. The only glitch was that she had a ticket and we didn't. In her kindness, she secured one ticket for us, and we waited in another line for another ticket.

As aggressive as we were, we were told to wait, and wait and wait until it seemed that the doors would surely close on us. The lines shuffled, didn't seem to move, people filled out forms, the workers checked names again and again... and then... for seemingly no reason at all... they handed out tickets like they were candy at a 4th of July parade.

We grabbed the ticket, rushed inside and found two perfect seats next to these two nice Ron "crazy" Paul supporters from Vermont (how fitting).

The candidates themselves were interesting, but the crowd was the real attraction. People cheered, clapped, booed, commented and really seemed to participate in every comment, every sigh, every look that a candidate made.

Guiliani seemed to draw a mixture of boos and cheers, Romney and McCain had a good show of supporters, and the Ron "crazy" Paul supporters were out en masse. His supported even used sidewalk chalk to decorate the, you guessed it, sidewalk to show their support. That's another post though.

The energy in the arena was phenemonal. Just another example of why NH is first in the nation.

Mount Washington

This is what we did yesterday.
We didn't get to stay at the hotel.
We left the house at about 6:45am, arrived at the mountain about 9am, after Dunkin Donut and directions stop. (Munchkins are the perfect pre and post hiking snack).


The going was tough, especially the part that looks like a giant's staircase, and probably goes that way for about a mile.


We heard a landslide, that was a bit scary.




Luckily, I had my mountain runners on.

They were a tremendous help in gripping the rocks. They probably prevented a few landslides.


These are the same shoes that I wore in our 500mile walk across Spain. H/T to Gore Tex, I've never been so happy with a pair of shoes.


The weather was sort of cooperative. It wasn't raining - a little cold... windy, we walked along a cascading river for most of it... so got a little wet. But by the time that we stopped at the Hut at the Lake among the Clouds, the wind cover was gone, and visibility was slight, to say the least. We had lunch with our dog, and a golden doodle whose owners left him outside.

With about an hour to the top, things got a little rough. You walk among pile of rocks, and can easily get off trail. The wind was ripping right through us, and we couldn't see the top of the mountain. It was freezing cold, and we were wearing all the clothes that we brought with us. Most people were wearing winter gear. The wind chill was 30 degrees.


Ah, but we made it to the top. The dog decided that she wanted to go home about 20feet from the top... so we had to coax her the rest of the way.


An excellent trip - we survived the trail, the weather, the other hikers and the cold.


Wicked awesome.

A Diamond is Forever

and love only lasts until Death do us part... so the piece of, ahem, "art" shown at the left is really quite curious. This little beauty just sold for $100,000,000. That's right, 100 million dollars.

This makes me wonder if someone actually thinks that they will recover their money, or if they just have way too much money to begin with.

I'm sure a deeper and more thoughtful person could muse about how blatant a display this is of our love affair with the culture of death... but I thought I'd just show you the picture, since indeed, it is worth a thousand words... maybe not $100,000,000.

You're 8, and I'm 8!

The following is written by a professor of mine from graduate school. Its beautiful. The blog that I'm stealing it from is here.

I bear the special privilege of sharing a birthday with Julia - July 10th. I was 18 and she was 8 when we discovered this coincidence, but she proudly exclaimed "I'm 8 and you're 8!"

Ending Down syndrome pregnancies bears all the marks of a pogrom

09:06 AM CDT on Sunday, July 8, 2007

The year Julia was born in New Hampshire, 1987, I was the only geriatric pregnancy in the state issuing in a Down syndrome child. When I recovered from the pediatrician's insult – I was 37 – I learned from him that the other nine mothers in the state to deliver Down syndrome babies were still in their 20s. I asked him why this was the case; conventional wisdom had led me to believe that the likelihood of giving birth to a Down syndrome child increased with maturity. When he told me that most woman over 34 usually had amniocentesis done to avoid giving birth to a Down syndrome child, I was stunned. After first being dismayed by – what to call it? – my demographic solitude, I soon turned my attention to what Down syndrome meant practically for my new infant.

The books we quickly read, and the instruction from excellent social services helped us. Operating outside the realm of reason and structure were other powerful supports – call them graces.

At the end of Julia's first week, I learned that a publisher friend of ours had lost his wife to colon cancer. We had known them since graduate school, and the widower came over to tell us that his wife gathered their eight children around her bed to pray for Julia and us every night of that first week. Even as she said goodbye to her own children and to the infant she had given birth to – an operation might have saved her and killed the baby inside of her – Susan was thinking about our challenge.

I felt a liberating happiness over Julia, as did our little girls and their dad, for reasons too deeply private to explain. Julia's life soon began to bring out the excellences of others. She brought our little college community even closer together, a joy to the students and a prize to anyone who held her. Early Intervention trained us to stimulate areas of her brain by waking up facial muscles, working to get her to sit up or to crawl – a task she never mastered, scooting instead with her two hands and bottom.

I would go from teaching the Declaration of Independence and the Federalist Papers, to a large room uptown with five other mothers propping up their floppy babies. Nothing else has ever quite brought home the meaning of "all men are created equal endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights and among them are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." We were all working for that fullest expression of life and happiness for our babies. I thought about the "prudent" mothers who had aborted their own children with Down syndrome. I grieved for those who, exercising their reproductive rights – a new appropriation of the older notion of liberty, which was rooted in duty – would never know the profound satisfaction of raising such a child.

I will never forget Julia's first birthday with all her sisters around her. When we finished singing happy birthday, Julia put her hands together and clapped for the first time. Of course, we all cried on cue. Things that were so ordinary for the others became accomplishments – triumphs. Julia slowed us down, and, instead of waiting for each stage of development to naturally emerge, we would coax it along, beckoning it with intentionality and art. She taught each child an intelligence of the heart, and she began to teach me patience. Each member in our family could give a personalized account of his or her relation to Julia.

Every daughter, for instance, has a perspective on her own vanity because of her. Julia expected to be 3 inches taller when she turned 16; I solved that problem by buying her 3-inch platform wedges. But often it's not that simple. For instance, on the way to school she will pull down the visor mirror, look at herself, and say, "When I get to heaven, my eyes are going to be like my sisters', and I am going to be 5-foot-11, and my voice is going to sound like Kelly Clarkson's." I tell her that God made her the way she is, that she wouldn't be Julia any other way, that we love her just as she is, and that she is beautiful. Of course, not everyone thinks that way.

Some told me I should not make the same mistake twice – to have my tubes tied. I'm glad I didn't. Our one son was born after Julia, when I was 40, and our seventh daughter – now a sophomore at Ursuline – two years later. Our son just graduated from Cistercian Preparatory School.

Over the past few years, he and his classmates have helped to organize the bi-annual Down syndrome Dance. Will's friends love Julia, and she shamelessly loves them back. They'll all be here at her 20th birthday party Tuesday. She will probably sing "Desperado," as she did at the recent graduation of two of her sisters, belting it out on key and bringing the house down.

I understand that the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists is offering women a safer method than amniocentesis to determine whether a child has Down syndrome. The College makes the argument that it is more responsible to inform parents of their options beforehand so that they can decide whether or not to let the baby live. This argument shakes me to the core, for it bears all the marks of a pogrom – the license to be aggressive against the most benign population conceivable.

Until now I have never been an advocate of special needs' issues. I have quietly reared my daughter and her brother and six sisters. But I can remain silent no longer. Twenty years ago, many of Julia's potential friends who are like her were intentionally eliminated, perhaps out of fear or perhaps out of a desire for a regular family with regular children. I think of those thousands of children who will never change those families for the better. They will never be at a Down syndrome dance, never hug their grandmothers, unafraid of their wrinkles or of people's imperfections. Who will love us as well, as simply, with such undesigning candor if we invent a world protected from our difficult blessings?

Ironically, scientific work on turning off the additional action of the genes that cause cognitive impairment in Trisomy 21 now offers more hope than ever before, especially at Stanford School of Medicine's Center for Research and Treatment for Down Syndrome (dsresearch.stanford .edu). More research dollars are going into killing these children before they are born than into this noble project of helping them. And why? Because citizens value their freedom? Are my husband and I less free because we might have Julia with us our whole lives? Hardly. We would probably be enslaved to many more false notions of reality.

In any case, we must trust that there will be a meaningful work and life for Julia. Maybe one of her sisters will take her in. Maybe she'll live in a group home. These are all decisions we will have to make as a couple, as a family and with Julia. These will not be easy decisions. One thing is sure, though: She is our defining blessing. How could we have known that in advance? To accept her full humanity is to accept our real selves in all our imperfections.

My son put it well in describing how Julia likes to personalize her lead pencils, tapping them on the table top as they become characters in her daily life – at school or at home. We will sometimes hear ourselves oddly repeated in her animated version of our loss of temper or other foibles. In describing this game Julia plays, our son wrote that as she taps her pencil people, she taps into us.

Virginia Arbery teaches in the Master of Humanities Program at The University of Dallas and is the mother of eight children. Her e-mail address is varbery@sbcglobal.net.

In Memoriam: Ross Alameddine

This was sent to my by a long-time friend of mine. Please pray for him, and his family.


IN MEMORIAM: Ross Alameddine

It is with exceptional grief and disbelief that we mourn the loss of a long-time family friend's son. Ross Alameddine died this past week at Virginia Tech. While in his early Monday morning French class, he became a victim of a horrendous act of senseless violence. He was a 20 year old young gentleman who had the world by a string and boundless opportunities ahead of him.

I remember Ross when he was just a little, wide-eyed toddler. He was an exemplary son and very close to his family.

Ross grew up to be an exceptionally bright student. A graduate of Catholic elementary school and Austin Prep Catholic High School in Reading, Massachusetts, he excelled at everything he did. His interests included computers, politics, religion, speaking fluent French, music, travel, poetry, literature, roller blading and maintaining his brand new car he won at a raffle. (His family had a knack for games of chance as his mother once won a baby grand piano in a contest!) He had a wide circle of friends where he was known for his serious scholarship and humor-filled good times. He was full of life and possessed a deep love of learning and academia.

Ross had his heart set on attending Virginia Tech since he first visited the campus during High School. Every time his mother talked about him she beamed with pride and happiness. Not long ago, I saw Ross' mother at my sister's home in Melrose, Massachusetts where she frequently stops in. I asked her about Ross. After smiling broadly, she told me how well he's doing at VT and how much he enjoys it there.Please pray for Ross' mother, father and sister as they are experiencing sorrow beyond comprehension. In this season of His Divine Mercy, may our loving Lord enfold Ross' family, and the families of all the departed, into His countless rays of everlasting love and peace.

Rest in peace, Ross. You will be dearly missed by all who had the privilege of knowing you for too short a time.
______________________________________________

Hon. Maureen C. Mooney
Assistant Republican Leader
N.H. State Representative, Hills. Co.
District 19
P.O. Box 1676Merrimack, NH 03054-1676

Maureen.Mooney@leg.state.nh.us

Wednesday's Hero - SFC Lloyd A. Heinrichs Jr

This Weeks Hero Was Suggested By LeAnn

On May 9th 2004, SFC Lloyd A. Heinrichs Jr was down at the Ocean front in Virginia Beach when a ‘Swimmer in Distress’ call came in
to the Emergency Medical Services (EMS) Dispatch office about noon. Myself (Gary Couch, Dive 8), SFC Heinrichs and Petty Officer First Class Scott Weil of the U.S Navy, volunteered to respond the call. There were
a total of 3 people in the water that were being pulled out to sea by the current. The temperature of the water was only around 65 degrees Fahrenheit with the air temperature at 78 degrees Fahrenheit. The undertow was very extreme that day with the beach already “Red Flagged” due to the strong currents and excessive waves.

Upon arrival to the scene, SFC Heinrichs and PO1 Weil identified the victims. Without hesitation and with total disregard for their own safety each grabbed a torpedo buoy and entered the water. SFC Heinrichs went for the first victim to the South of 36th Street while PO1 Weil went for the second and third victims, which were hanging on to each other to
the North of 36th Street. As I observed SFC Heinrichs and PO1 Weil, once they were waist deep, the current rapidly pulled them out. SFC Heinrichs made his way to the first victim and started fighting his way back to shore. Once SFC Heinrichs reached his victim, he calmed her down, making the attempt to head back to shore. Several times SFC Heinrichs and
his victim were rolled under by the enormous waves and undertow. His victim was completely exhausted from the ordeal. Once he reached shallow water, he assisted his victim to shore. The victim was an older heavy-set lady, early forties. The Virginia Beach Fire Department Paramedics placed the victim on a stretcher and the Virginia Beach Volunteer Rescue Squad took her to Virginia Beach General Hospital.

SFC Heinrichs was extremely exhausted and fatigued from the rescue. He turned to check on PO1 Weil and notice that PO1 Weil had reached the other two victims, a male in his late twenties and a female in her early forties. PO1 Weil was struggling with his two victims giving a hand and arm signal for ‘Help’. The female was almost passive from near drowning, and the male who had initially swum out to help her was becoming a victim himself. Without hesitation, SFC Heinrichs picked himself up and ran back into the water to assist PO1 Weil while PO1 Weil did what he could to keep them calm and afloat until help arrived.

Once SFC Heinrichs reached PO1 Weil and the other two victims, they were all rolled by several consecutive waves, pinning SFC Heinrichs under the two victims. A few moments later, SFC Heinrichs emerged between the victims with both lanyards of the torpedo buoys wrapped around his neck, gasping for air. As the situation went from bad to worse, PO1 Weil
tried his best to help SFC Heinrichs with untangling the lanyards from his neck while trying to hold his passive victim’s head out of the water. SFC Heinrichs took a deep breath and submerged himself in the attempt yo free his neck. As each wave came over the top of PO1 Weil and the victims, we kept waiting for him to resurface in bated breath not knowing
that the lanyards kept tightening around SFC Heinrichs’ neck. While continuous waves were tossing PO1 Weil and the victims, SFC Heinrichs reemerged on the side of the victims. He had been under for over thirty seconds trying to get loose. We began to worry weather or not he was going to come back up. You could hear the heavy sigh of relief from all the EMS personnel on the beach once he resurfaced. He grabbed a hold of the male victim and started for shore. The victims once, on shore, were taken away for medical attention. PO1 Weil and SFC Heinrichs were taken to an ambulance and checked for possible hypothermia and released.

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that
others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am
proud to call them Hero.
It Is Foolish And Wrong To Mourn The Men
Who Died. Rather We Should Thank God That Such Men Lived

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. If you would like
to participate in honoring the brave men and women who serve this great
country, you can find out how by clicking here.

If it wasn't so disgusting...

Well, it is that disgusting.

So, Clinton was an absolute embarrasment as a President, and then there's this guy - who is flaunting his THIRD WIFE, and SHE talks him up like he's a poster boy for one of those disgusting ads even BEFORE he's a candidate for Presidency.

There really is no decency left in the political world.

Read the article here if you so wish, but don't do it during breakfast. You won't be able to keep your waffles down - if you know what I mean.

WORLD CHAMPIONS!

It was a brilliant game, and no commentary is needed.

THE COLTS ARE AWESOME.

In the words of the owner, "while this is a glorious team, we give all the glory to God"

And in the words of the coach, "I'm proud to be representing the African-American coaches and the first African-American coach to win this, but more important, Lovie Smith and I are Christian coaches, and God was watching over us."

There's a quote that you won't find in many news sources.

Wednesday's Hero

This Weeks Hero Was Submitted By
Mark Bell


LCpl. Nicholas J. Manoukian
22 years old from Lathrup, Michigan
1st Marines 6th Batallion 2nd Marine Division
Oct 21, 2006


Here
is a website that LCpl. Manoukian's mother set up for her son
after he lost his life in Ramadi.

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that
others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am
proud to call them Hero.
It Is Foolish And Wrong To Mourn The Men
Who Died. Rather We Should Thank God That Such Men Lived

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. If you would like
to participate in honoring the brave men and women who serve this great
country, you can find out how by clicking href="http://rightwingrightminded.blogspot.com"

So, a man is doing his Saturday morning errands, drives to the Post Office and purchases a book of stamps. As he's placing the stamps on his many bills, and he's pondering the dwindling of his paycheck with the mailing of these checks, he notices something strange. His $.23 stamp looks funny. The 3 is backward.

'Ah, I bet they screwed up when they were making this batch.' He purchases another book, and immediately checks to see if the 3 is printed correctly. It is.

He carefully removes all of the misprinted stamps from his bills and replaces them with the stamps printed properly. He takes the other book of stamps home, and spends the next four hours on the internet researching these mis-printed stamps. He joins a few e-mail lists dedicated to stamp collecting, and waits. Everyday he searches the discussion threads to see if anyone else comes up with the same stamps.

A month later, he sees it. The title read 'misprinted stamps are recalled'. He opens the thread to learn that his precious book of stamps have been recalled, and the lucky few who may have received the stamps hold something priceless in their hands. The post office was able to recall all but 10 books of stamps. He also notices that there are collectors scrambling to find and purchase these stamps. They are offering upwards of $25,000 for these rare and precious stamps that very few people possess.

This scenario made me think of those hundreds of parents who find out that their precious child is going to be differnet. He or she isn't going to have exactly the same things as other children. Perhaps they won't ever learn how to read, learn how to run, ride a bike, walk on their own. Those children who God has decided to will into being are one in a million. In every other scenario in life, we accept these circumstances as indications of a particular blessing. Yet, when it comes to children, we want them to be like clones, like so many postage stamps that are printed out in uniformity. Yet, it is the particularity of every child that really makes the world beautiful, that brings to each family something that isn't exactly like other families.

SWF Seeking...

Reason #243 that I have never found someone to marry. I've never read the London Review of Books Personal Ads.

Here is just a sampling:

I'm just a girl who can't say "no" (or "anaesthetist"). Lisping Rodgers and Hammerstein fan, femaile lecturer in politics (37) would like to meet a man to age 40 for thome enthanted eveningth. Box 2498

Employed in publishing? Me too. Stay the hell away. Man on teh inside seeks woman on teh outside who likes milling around hospitals guessing the illnesses of outpatients. 30-35. box 3287.

Male LRB readers. Drawing little faces on your thumbs, getting them to order meals, then shouting at them for not being able to pay is no way to win a woman. You know who you are. Men to 40 wtih working credit cards, reply to once-bitten, twice-bitten, three-strikes-and-you're-all-out F, 35. Box no. 1379

Don't reply to this ad - its a fake. Just like the man who place it. Deny nothing, regret all, but live to fight another day with phoenoenologically ahamed, melanin-deprived, scion of the patriarchal ruling class. (32, Worcester). Box 7590.

Loaded tax exile Channel Islands resident seeks attractive well preserved soul mate. No objection to modest gold digger age around 25 below 40 a definite advantage. If you smoke it’s the garage. Tel 01481238667

My psychotherapist suggested I place this ad. Woman, 43. Not mental, despite whatever a fear of open spaces, the colour red, the sound of rain, plastic containers, beards, percussionists, birdsong and cornflakes may suggest Box no. 01/03

courtesy of Smithsonian Magazine February 2007.

Wednesday's Hero

Lt. Col. Michael E. McLaughlin
44 years old from Mercer, Pennsylvania
2nd Brigade Combat Team, 28th Infantry Division, Pennsylvania Army
National Guard
January 4, 2006


Sitting in the car with Lt. Col. Michael E. McLaughlin's 18-year-old
daughter, her father's friend of 21 years had just broken the news of his
death.

During years of friendship and service in the Pennsylvania Army
National Guard, Lt. Col. McLauglin and retired Capt. Brad Mifsud had a bond so
close that they promised each other if something were ever to happen to
either one of them, they would be there for the other's family.

Lt. Col. McLaughlin died when a suicide bomber rushed through a crowd
of Iraqi police recruits in Ramadi and detonated a bomb that also killed
a Marine and nearly 80 Iraqis. The day before the attack, Lt. Col.
McLaughlin said he was fully confident that Ramadi had finally turned a
corner in the insurgency. As hundreds of local men streamed into the
Ramadi Glass Factory on Wednesday to join the city’s long-defunct police
force, a wide grin spread over a pinch of tobacco stuffed into the
44-year-old’s lower lip.

"This may not look like much, but it's history," McLaughlin told a
reporter. "We're making history right here."

With a significant wound to the back of his head, Lt. Col. McLaughlin
turned to his injured personal security detail officers and inquired
about their well-being. Waving off medical attention, he asked them to
check on the soldiers under his command.

"In an act of extreme selflessness, he stated that he was OK, but to
concentrate on saving the lives of his men," said Col. Grey Berrier, a
close friend of Lt. Col. McLaughlin.

Lt. Col. McLaughlin died shortly after giving that instruction,
according to the Guard.

A long-time artillery officer in the Pennsylvania Army National Guard,
McLaughlin was assigned to Task Force 2-222 Field Artillery and was the
primary liaison between the 2-28 Brigade Combat Team and local tribal
and government leaders in Ramadi. His efforts were instrumental in
getting local sheikhs to support the recruitment drive and encourage more
than 1,000 area men to volunteer for the force, commanders said.

"Mike is a true hero in every sense of the word, and he died while
doing his job the only way he knew how - out front and with great
enthusiasm and courage," said Col. John L. Gronski, commander of the 2-28 BCT.
"This loss only strengthens our resolve to carry on and complete the
mission in order to honor his memory."

A gregarious wisecracker, McLaughlin said his hope was to one day
return to a peaceful Iraq, where he planned to walk the streets of Ramadi in
a traditional Arab "man dress," or dishdasha, and sip coffee and chai
with those sheikhs he had met during the war. McLaughlin said that one
particular tribal leader he had developed a close relationship with
dubbed him "The Sheikh of Sheikhs" - a nickname that was soon picked up by
fellow officers in the brigade.

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that
others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am
proud to call them Hero.
It Is Foolish And Wrong To Mourn The Men
Who Died. Rather We Should Thank God That Such Men Lived

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. If you would like
to participate in honoring the brave men and women who serve this great
country, you can find out how by clicking here.

Why Does This Stuff Stick?

I had to bring the grill over to my parents house for a play0ff game barbecue. As I rolled the grilled through the dog yard, I noticed that only one kind of, ahem, "mud" was being picked up in the wheel. And I thought - after the week of rain that we've had, why do the wheels ONLY pick up dog dirt, and not the nice clean dirt that cleans easily.

Then, it reminded me of sin and immorality. Why does that seem to stick so much easier than virtue?

Remember when this was a novelty?

One of my favorite childhood memories was going to the Mall. It was almost an hour away, and there was only one within driving distance from us. We'd walk around all the shops, and get those few things that we really needed, and had waited to get until we could make the trip.

On the way home, we'd stop at McDonald's - which was always a huge treat. Then, Mom would take a different route home by the bay and we could see all the boats in the water. Sometimes we'd even see windsurfers out on the lake.

Its funny that McDonald's isn't considered a treat anymore. Its the thing you substitute for food when you're too busy for a real meal. I remember saving the fries for last, and wanting to be the last one who would finish so that it seems like I had more. AND, if you were lucky enough to get the ones at the bottom of the bag you had really made it.

I wish Mickey D's was more rare.