Monthly Archives: October 2011

It’s witchcraft how good this song is.

It wasn’t until I had extremely musical children that I returned to good music. Make no mistake, I still listen to plenty of crap, but I now have Edith Piaf, Billie Holiday and Frank Sinatra on my phone. The kid requests some Frank every now and again, when she gets tired of the Kills. Now I’ve got to search the archives and download “Witchcraft” for her. She’ll love it.

I had wanted to write more on this subject, but I’ve just started some pretty hardcore anti-inflammatories for my messed-up knee and I’m currently in the grips of a dizzying nausea. Read Steyn’s piece, listen to the song, and enjoy your Hallowe’en. I’m going to spend some down time pondering whether I should even bother caring about who wins the GOP nomination when no one seems to care that America’s in the crapper. Whatever. Romney’s going to get the nom, he’ll most likely lost to Obama, and we’ll then spend the next four years in denial as we hurtle headlong into the abyss.

How’s that for optimism?

My tummy hurts.


I will never understand evangelistic atheists. Why all the hatred toward Christianity? Why not slat fake Mohammad quotes on billboards all across town? Or some “false but accurate” Buddha quotes? Haters. What did Jesus ever do to you, other than humble himself, die in your place, and ask for nothing but love in return?

Yeah, you’re right. What a jerk.

I mean to do so many things…

I feel like I’m always apologizing for being lame, and here I am, apologizing for being lame and not writing anything of consequence for ages. I want to write about Steyn’s newest, fantastic weekend piece but I haven’t time at the moment, so I’m saving this space. After pumpkin patches and church services and post-Mass buffets with friends, after all of the things I’ve promised to do with and for and in lieu of, after all of that, I will sit down and write about the consistently excellent Mark Steyn, provided I don’t fall asleep on the couch first. (It’s been happening a lot lately.)

It’s true: we’re destroying the English language one tweet at a time.

I’ve got to agree with the (sexy) old grump, Twitter, blogging and texting have ruined everything I love about the English language. Although it seems every generation asks if Shakespeare is still relevant, the question may be more apropos to our current, Snooki-fied culture. I find it deeply humorous that an article on the disintegration of the English language is riddled with spelling mistakes and typos. Ha ha.

Coriolanus is one of my favorite plays, and Ralph is one of my favorite actors. He’s rumored to be pretentious and ill-tempered and narcissistic, but he has amazing eyes and much talent. Although he’s right that the grammar and abbreviations on Twitter are an affront to everything that is good and beautiful about the English language, I’ve found a new appreciation for the lost art of brevity. It is possible to maintain one’s linguistic integrity while limited to 140 characters, but most people don’t have the capacity to sound intelligent when given unlimited characters with which to express themselves, so the generalization made by Fiennes is applicable. Quite.

Anyway, I’m done. Almost 200 words into this an I’ve lost interest. I wonder what’s on tv?

The Shire is calling.

I love these Hobbits. I cannot believe it’s been ten years. Thanks for the awesomeness, boys. I remain forever devoted to Hobbits; I married one. (But not one of these. He’s a Brandybuck, twice removed.)

Looks cool.

So it would have been better if the women protesting were making a statement about the treatment of women by radical Islam and, as they burned their veils, they wore jeans and t-shirts, but it’s still a really cool image. Apparently the veil-burning is a Bedouin tradition, performed to request the protection of their tribesmen. Someday I hope we’ll see the same sort of fires burning as women all over the Islamic world demand equality and freedom. Until then, however, we’ll watch Yemen and the rest of the tumultuous Middle East with a wary eye.

I can’t celebrate this Arab Spring until I’m convinced that we aren’t witnessing the birth of the new caliphate.

Thank you.

All I have to say is “Thank you.” Thank you, thank you, thank you. And keep up the good work. I guess I’m old-school, but this kind of hacker vigilantism makes my heart smile. Sometimes they’re off-target — massive, restrictive regulation of the banking and housing industries is the real enemy, not the credit card companies — but I am sympathetic to their cause. (Clarification: I have never claimed to be a “hacker” — how I hate that word! It’s like saying I like “alternative” music, like Nirvana — I am and have always been a sympathizer and supporter of those who are smarter than I can ever hope to be.)

However one feels about it, one must admit that taking out child porn sites cannot be construed as anything other than saintly. Next step, exposure. Rip the veil off completely, reveal the maggots for what they are. Paedophiles deserve summary execution, full stop. Preferably painfully. Maybe a little torture to make it memorable, but I’ll take international humiliation.

If the group wants a charity case, my credit is pretty crappy. I was “taken advantage of” by the credit card industry as a college freshman. This coupled with poor impulse control and a desire to keep the money for which I worked very hard, I’ve got a shame-inducing credit score. The credit rating system is the American caste system, man. And so on.

That old ennui.

I’m burnt out again, methinks. Today I found myself eschewing the hourly Corner, Drudge and Reuters perusal and instead choosing to settle down with Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury. I’m tired and I don’t care. Well, I care, but I’m not sure why. Nothing changes, nothing gets better, politicians will always sell you out for power, tail, or money — most likely a combination of all three.

I just want to read good books, write about them, and at some point publish something worthwhile.

I really like his writings on theology, however.

Though I’m Protestant, I respect the Pope very much. That having been said, I respectfully disagree with him on this. A “global public authority” and a centralized world bank is exactly the opposite of what this world needs. And, honestly, it’s not the Pope’s job to be dictating economic policy. Obviously.

Lost in Translation.

I’m currently watching Lost in Translation, a film I haven’t watched in ages. I love this movie. It is a subtle masterpiece. Okay, maybe that’s a bit hyperbolic, but I believe that it’s definitely one of Sophia Coppola’s best films. It also showcases Scarlett Johansson’s talent, before she became Scarlett Johansson. When I watch it, I remember that under all the stupid attempts to appear politically relevant, there’s a talented actress. Her fresh-faced beauty is apparent, as is her understated grace. And it goes without saying that Bill Murray is excellent. His chemistry and awkwardness with the much-younger Johansson is spectacular.

Anna Faris’ turn as the thinly disguised Cameron Diaz character is absolutely brilliant. She’s very underrated.

There’s a scene in which Johansson’s character sits in the window of her high-rise hotel, looking out over the alien landscape of Tokyo, and I remember doing the same thing in Sydney. It wasn’t alien so much as it is was so far from home, so far from my sole purpose in life, the wee one, the Bluebell to my Hyacinth, my tiny partner in crime. It was at that moment that I realized that home was wherever she is, and she wasn’t there. I also realized that I needed to make sure I didn’t get lost in motherhood, that it was terribly important that I hold onto my identity as a person outside of being her mom.

Being a person is such a lonely, weird existence. This movie reminds me of that. It also reminds me that throughout this weird, lonely journey there are moments of pure magic, moments where a connection is made and it is amazing. Bright spots in the darkness.

And you realize then that it’s worth it. Whatever discomfort or tragedy befalls you, it is for these moments of connection that you live. Even if you make only one, it still makes everything else pale in comparison.

That’s why I love this movie; it reminds me of being human.

Two things.

First of all, the Daily Mail characterizes this as “bizarre” but I don’t see anything bizarre about it. Mormonism is much maligned at the moment, and though I don’t think delving into the particulars of the religion really help dispel the confusion and animosity toward it, I think that the Church has a right to defend itself. It’s quite chic to hate on the Mormons right now, so why not use some of its more popular members to boost its image? There’s nothing bizarre about that, nothing weird.

Secondly, I could scarcely finish this article for the emotion that it evoked. This is a beautiful and heartbreaking example of the sacrifices we are willing to make as mothers. I pray that this is never a decision I have to make, but I am in awe of the mother in the article. If it were my child or my life, I’d choose my child every day and twice on Sunday. It’s just a no-brainer.

Ok, so three things:

Gilad. I’m glad he’s home, but at what cost?


Perhaps I listen to Mark Levin too regularly, but I want to know just why the prevailing wisdom on the Right is that Romney is the de facto nominee. Much of the establishment seems comfortable with Romney, which I can only assume is because it’s Romney’s “turn.” I know how much the GOP loves to hand the nomination to the next guy in line.

But there are some serious problems with Romney. First off, he is impossible to get excited about. He’s so bland and bland doesn’t sell to the independents and uninformed out there. And Romney, regardless of what the spinners claim, is pretty liberal. Romneycare — Obama is already getting it out there that he used Romneycare as a blueprint for Obamacare. What do you think the average, non-establishment, outside the Beltway voter is going to think about that? If I were not paying attention, I’d think, “Well, what’s the difference? They’re the same guy.”

The GOP suffers from a serious case of the out-of-touch syndrome. The establishment does not understand that people don’t want a candidate that’s simply a different shade of grey, they want someone who actually believes something. Someone who stands for something. The Right will not win this election with a candidate pushing a kinder, gentler socialism, not this time.

Leave it to the GOP to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Go ahead, push Romney. Don’t be surprised if we end up with four more years of President Manboy Carter II.

Egypt’s war on Christianity.

After reading this article, I came up with a couple of snarky comments meant to highlight Obama’s immature worldview and remind the reader of his part in Egypt’s current woes. But the Coptic Christians of Egypt deserve better than being used to score cheap political points. Obama’s support of the ousting of Mubarak was indeed stupid and ill-considered, but that should come as no surprise. Egypt’s Christians now have bigger problems than our manboy president and his stupid foreign policy. They are fighting for their lives in an increasingly hostile environment and they’re pretty much on their own, as their own government stands by and watches the destruction of their churches and the murders of their fellow Christians.

Raymond Ibrahim has got a great piece on the subject.

The interesting thing about all this is that the Copts were in Egypt long before Islam came to dominate by the sword. Their history is fascinating, especially to a Christian like myself. In their church we can see the roots of our religion, the church of Alexandria having been founded after Christ’s ascension in 42 AD. If anyone has the right to build churches in Egypt, it is the Copts. But Copts don’t cut off heads or burn buildings to the ground or shoot the unarmed, so they are getting ignored. Islam plays dirty, and Islam wins through fear.

Pray for the Copts and go here and here to see how you can help.

Don’t make it weird.

So the audio edition of After America is finally here. Is it weird that I want to order a copy just to listen to Mark Steyn whisper sweet apocalyptic nothings in my ear?

It’s not weird. Don’t make it weird.