No Friday Afternoon Sermon

I was going to revive the Ancient Lenten Tradition (tm) of Friday Afternoon Sermons (which, for long time readers, are sure to bring mixed feelings of dread and gleeful anticipation. For my newer readers - these were the seeds of the whole blog. They started as a Lenten substitute for Friday Afternoon Martinis, and are appropriately grouchy).

However, I have to make vegetarian soup. At least I have come up with something that actually has me looking forward to eating.

But I have to sacrifice the Friday Afternoon Sermon.

It's just not going to happen this Lent.

My schedule has changed, so there will be no Friday Afternoon Sermons this Lent.

Aw, shucks, you say?

Well, you can create your own. The topic for this week is the idiocy of "Baby on Board" placards. Remember those from the 80's. It seemed that every boomer parent had one. Then they got spoofed and went away.

Guess what? The boomer spawn have grown up and I am seeing them anew.

Speaking of boomer spawn, I was a bit shocked to read of a "Tyler" something or other who was in the Olympics. I always think of the "lers" as little kids (anglo boomers loved those ler names: Tyler, Skyler, Tayler, or Taylor, whatever, it's still pronounced ler). Now they are all growed up and have "Baby on Board" placards of their own. I wonder when they will discover cheesy jazz fusion and white zinfandel.

So, rant away for this Friday. Have fun.

Meanwhile, paid writing and unpaid cooking beckon. I like both.

By the way, iPods are amazingly cool inventions. You hit shuffle and it is like listening to the best free-form radio in the world. Scarlatti to Amalia Rodrigues to George Jones. You tell me where I can find programming like that on the radio.

And, I was asked about the NPR report on the Oakland murder rate. It is bad around some parts, mostly far to the south and far to the north of us (by a peculiarity of geography we call the northernmost part of town "West Oakland" and the southernmost part of town "East Oakland," which are both the bad parts of Oakland. Technically we live in East Oakland, but are not that far into it, so none of the really bad stuff happens in our neighborhood). In our area crime tends to be more along the lines of property crimes, domestic violence, and drug offences, and my guess (not based on any data collecting by the police or anything that scientific) is that the rates are pretty steady. When we moved into the area, they were dropping pretty fast. I think they have probably stabilized, but will continue to decline.

What is going on in the other parts of town, on the other hand, is pretty ugly. I have no theory as to the causes, because I avoid those areas (for the most part), and do not have any direct observations. Often I wonder how it is possible for any ghetto to remain, given the cost of housing.

We have a mayoral race going on, however, and the outcome will be bleak, no matter who wins. The best man for the job (Ignacio de la Fuente) is as appealing as a wet loaf of bread. The worst man for the job (Ron Dellums, a man with no executive experience, and little more pedigree than being a careerist, Leftist-Democratic yes man) makes old Ignatz look like bonafide leadership material.

A move to Berkeley in our future? We will see.

No Friday Afternoon Sermon

Friday has come and gone, and, obviously you did not get a Friday Afternoon Sermon. Pity. I was going to rant about something or other, but it can wait.

The reason I skipped it was that I spent too much time fiddling with software Thursday night (OK, I admit it, I was loading songs into the iPod). No time to write. Sorry. Also, I have been baiting reds, or atheists, or whatever sort of fellow traveller it is that I have been crossing swords with in the taurine world.

Maybe I will give you a mid-week sermon, but that misses the atmosphere that I am shooting for in having Friday Afternoon Sermons.

You see, the Friday Afternoon Sermon was how the blog began. It started as an email circular that was to take the place of my Friday Afternoon Martini during Lent. I was intrigued by the crossing fo the images of a bunch of Mohammedans listening to their imams and images of the Western Friday afternoon (whoo hooo, the weekend is here). I created a little setting for the Friday Afternoon Sermon: a hot, slightly muggy day, in a piazza. The hearers of the sermon are not really there all by choice, and the piazza is full of various police in a variety of levels of uniform. Those who mutter against the Leader get stern looks from one of the secret policemen, you know, the guy over at that other table, sipping his Campari and looking for all the world like somebody's uncle. You say, "I have heard enough of this..." and the policeman who looks like someone's uncle makes a funny noise and shakes his head. A few minutes later, a skinny fellow in a trench coat and sunglasses leans over to you and says, "it is a shame how old ladies sit in the piazza these days and mutter and gossip." You get the message. You listen to the Leader. Somewhere in the distance, you hear someone selling ice cream. It is hot. You wish you had a copy of Hemingway...to throw at the Leader. But you wouldn't do that anyway. You are a good citizen and have always been a good citizen.

It had the extra benefit of allowing my friends to have a little extra penance during Lent. In fact it became so popular (one week I had no fewer than seven people send me emails saying "stop sending me those stupid things. I have no time for this nonsense.") that I knew then and there that I had to start posting this to an even bigger audience. Writing for a chain of newspapers wasn't enough. I had to be heard in Slovakia, in Ireland, in Germany, in Italy, in Malta, in Canada, yes, even in Canada.

And I have a reader of this blog who is an elected official in one of the above nations. I will let you guess, although it won't do you any good, because I am not saying. Anyway, this country obviously does not provide enough entertainment for its elected officials.

So, the Friday Afternoon Sermons are dear to my heart. Maybe I will wear a turban while writing the next one.

Do any of you know how to tie a turban? You do tie turbans, don't you?

Preview of coming attractions!

I have been thinking about Lenten resolutions, and, in the great spirit of coming up with penances for others, I have decided to impose on you, my dear readers, a return of FRIDAY AFTERNOON SERMONS on each of the Fridays of Lent! I know you miss those.

Attendance is, of course, mandatory. We will be taking roll, and we will ask the absent to come down to the station to have a little chat with the captain. Or the Colonel, if things go that far. Usually they don't. A chat with the captain, with or without the Good Doctor present, usually settles the mind and returns folks to normal life.

And please, remember to bring your ID cards. Nothing irritates me more than people who come to compulsory rallies without their ID cards.

Your assignment, in order to be in the ideal mindset, is to repeat twevle times a day "if you have done nothing wrong, you have nothing to be afraid of."

Remember, the Duce dislikes grumbling. Don't be a grumbler.

Believe!
Obey!
Fight!

Country Music Again...

I had to make a phone call to Texas today. Funny thing about Texas is that whenever I hear the name I am forced to remember the song "All my exes live in Texas."

If one were to have a conjunto do that song, would it have to be "All my ejas live in Tejas?" or "Todos mi..." never mind.

Inquiring (but not too sharp) minds want to know.

For those who are wondering and possibly worrying, yes, I have been listening to a lot of country music these days. I have been in the Central Valley four times in the last two weeks, drinking ice cold Budweiser (OK, some Sierra Nevada, too. I am not a complete redneck), and sometimes it just clicks. You gotta hear Hank or Bob Wills or Flatt and Scruggs. When I drive through Vacaville too many times I have to hear Spade Cooley, which is definitely a sign that one should move away. Far away.

But where? Country Music is everywhere. Even in San Francisco, where I have seen some of the best country acts in the world.

So, I don't move away and try to escape the twang, I embrace the twang. I listen to Bob Wills and Waylong Jennings and Buck Owens and even Spade Cooley (although it is hard to listen to him and not think about what he did and not want to throw the record in disgust, but he was such a good musician. I listen to Gesualdo, Wagner, and Berlioz, too).

Of course I realize that country music doesn't kill people, country musicians do (or at least they break into restaurants to rob them for dope money not realizing that the restaurant is open), but there is a part of me that thinks that somehow if I listen to country music too much it will somehow make me more of a redneck. So I have to keep tabs on these things. You can never be too careful.

On the Repugnance of Moderation

I am sick and tired of Westerners calling for us to support "Moderate Muslims." It reeks of arrogance that we are telling them the form that their religion should take, based on post-Endarkenment secularism. What exactly is a "moderate Muslim?" A cafeteria Mohammedan? A Mohammedan who believes that the Koran is the infallible word of God, yet is willing to bend on crucial issues when faced with the prospect of Western goods?

I am willing to grant the Mohammedans that they believe in the truth of their religion. So why would I trust anyone who compromised on what they saw as Truth, particularly when said Truth comes with strict orders of obedience?

In order to make any headway against the errors of Mohammedanism, we need to first recognize that Mohammedanism is not a religion of peace and that those who really profess it are inherently opposed to the West. While supporting so-called moderates might have the worthy goal of putting off violence, it is short-sighted and ultimately supports the worst aspect of secularization, which is the divorce between religion and society.

If we are to have meaningful dialogue with the Mohammedans, we have to stop trying to refashion their faith into one of our own making. Then we will have an unvarnished portrait of what we are up against. Until then, we are propping up nothing by stooges, compromisers, and cowards in our support of so-called moderate Mohammedanism.

Like I Said...

Bad ideas start in California, travel to NY, then hit the rest of the country. The District of Subsidia, the Serene Principality of the [crack] House of Barry, the home of our esteemed legislature, not to mention the Chief Justice and Associate Justices of the Supreme Court of the United States, is now following our STUPID lead, once again. So, now, based on all sorts of pseudo-science and emotionalism, the health Puritans (apostates who substitute all sorts of outlandish idols for God), strike again.

I remember when the idiotic smoking ban hit our bars and the bloated pig of a local radio station had these "perspective" pieces from a gloating lawyer who was rejoicing that "now I can go into bars again."

"Again," I sputtered! When was he ever able to go into bars then, unless he smoked and then quit and became one of these crusaders? Of course he politely genuflected to nonsense health pieties, but then cut to the meat of the matter: his hair and clothes wouldn't stink. My bet: he went into a bar a couple of times when the policy kicked in, and then never went in again. This is obviously not a man who appreciates bars.

Bars are meant to be smokey and dark. They should smell of stale beer and smoke and the air should be thick with appropriate music: country or moody jazz or dark baroque pieces by Bach. Bars are not for everyone, either as hangouts or as places of employment. Alcoholics should not work in bars. Asthmatics or overly perky people should probably not work in bars either.

Ideally bars should also come installed with typewriters, and should supply paper at reasonable cost. They should have walk-in humidors with good cigars, as well as cheapo cigars for those who write detective books. A man who is typing in a bar should only be interrupted for two reasons: to ask him for a light, or to offer him a drink. Someone who interrupts a man at a typewriter in a bar for any other reason should be fair game for a broken nose.

Bars should be segregated. Protestants and Catholics should do their ecumenical dialog in other venues. One or two Guinesses and they might see eye to eye and sing songs together, but three or four and the word "Ulster" gets thrown around and someone orders a Bushmill's and all hell breaks loose.

Bars should have back rooms for those who want to be in a bar but don't want to be seen in a bar, or who don't want to be seen with whomever they are with in a bar. Back rooms must be full of cigar smoke. Never trust a back room deal when made by people smoking cigarettes. cigarette smokers should smoke cigars when making back room deals, out of deference to the political cartoonists, at the very least. Never trust a back room deal when made by people who do not smoke.

The back rooms do not need to be segregated, because a different protocol is in place there. After official closing time, the backroom should be reserved for VIPs. The writers, however, should be kicked out at closing, since the fresh air of the wee hours will do them good. Otherwise they might turn into Bukowski characters (Bukowski himself got plenty of fresh air at the track).

There are other sorts of bars, but they tend to be immoral. Singles bars, gay bars, or bars that play disco music should be shut down by the Morality Police. The people inside should be warned and sent home. Bars that look like they were designed in the 1980's should be shut down by the Aesthetics Police. French zinc countered bars are fine, as are the high-ceilinged workingman's bar, and both of those types require smoke for the proper ambiance as well.

Sports bars are probably an abomination, but there is something amusing about the notion. People go to a bar to sit on their duffs and drink and smoke to celebrate athletics. They should probably be shut down, but I will keep them open, so long as they are smoke-filled. Otherwise they will resemble gyms, and will probably start to smell like gyms. Also, people should require licenses to go to sports bars, with limits set.

Non sports bars should not have televisions in them. Televisions are conversation killers. They distract from writing and drawing and darts and billiards. If they are tuned to the news, they will encourage excessive despondant drinking.

Anyway, thanks to Fr. Jim Tucker for pointing this depressing story out. All I can say to you outside of California is "resist!" Even if, no, especially if these health puritan ideas appeal to you, realize that a bar is a special place. Smoke free atmospheres are ideal for a fitness club, not a bar. You will only be encouraging the wrong sort of bars from happening, and that will lead to real health issues stemming from immoral activity!