This may turn into an ongoing series of posts, come to think of it.
Sign #1: if you're willing to rent the companionship of a dog for four days a month at a rate of $280/month, you may have too much money for your own good.
Well, maybe if it's a five-diamond dog....
Today a news story of moderate importance broke. The Vatican Information Service indicated obliquely that Rome was acknowledging a decision the Ukrainian Catholic Church made some months ago: to move its major see from Lviv to Kyiv, and move Cardinal Husar, the major archbishop who presides over that Eastern church, along with it. The VIS announcement simply mentioned that Cdl. Husar had transferred an auxiliary bishop to fill the see at Lviv.
Cardinal Lubomyr Husar, Archbishop Major of Kyiv-Halyc, with the consent of the Synod of the Greek-Catholic Ukrainian Church and after having informed the Apostolic See, transferred Bishop Ihor Vozniak, C.SS.R., from Auxiliary Bishop of the Archeparchy of Lviv of the Ukrainians to residential Archbishop of the same see.
Gotta do your homework
Now, this is pretty arcane stuff, and normally the Internet's Vatican watchers would jump over themselves to explain the minutiae. Alas, the most vigorous self-promoter among them, the religion blogger Rocco Palmo, stumbled over the story, posting two misleading entries on this one news item.
French Quarter?! What's he doin', givin' a speech in some French Quarter?!
Before anybody gets all outraged about the reports of looting in New Orleans, let's remember that some of the people doing it are hungry people who take food and water for survival and would be happy to pay if the store were open. Nothing wrong with that. Here's a helpful guide:
Soft drinks, chips, and diapers: OK;
Jewelry and DVDs: No.
Yesterday I got three fundraising solicitations in the paper mail.
What mailing list did the ACLU buy that makes them think I'm a secularist liberal? Maybe the Consumer Reports subscriber roster? I mean, it's not as if I gave to public TV. They're sending me these things routinely now, a phony "survey" with tendentious questions, so I "vote" no wherever they want a "yes", write "Abortion is murder!" on it, and send it back in the Business Reply Envelope. Thanks for playing.
The TFP sent another big picture of their teary-eyed Fatima statue. Our Lady's probably especially sad that this cult-like little outfit (see this 1983 testimony) is using her image to milk money out of devout souls' wallets. I looked up their Federal filings through the charity-reporting site GuideStar, and here they are (PDFs:) 2004, 2003, 2002.
From the 2004 report, it seems they took in $4.6M in donations, and spent $1.76M on "fundraising" and on "direct mail campaigns" to their current supporters: that's 38%, a rather high figure. The statements include a few other interesting details: e.g., that they have a quarter-mil in precious metals. Not a bad investment, eh?
A third solicitation was from the Oblate (OMI) Fathers, prospecting for new donors. They sent out a little money, asking the reader to return it with a check, or at least return it. Now that's the nervy part: they beg the five cents back from you. Why, you'd have to be a heartless buzzard to say no to that. Well, Fathers, take your manipulative little gimmick somewhere else, and thanks for the nickel.
In a column on catholicculture.org, Jeff Mirus ponders the nicknames being given to the new Pope and the wishes people hold for him:
For example, the nickname B-16 reflects the beliefs of some that Pope Benedict XVI will be a strong disciplinarian because of his long tenure as head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith.
Do you buy that explanation? I'm skeptical.
Like quite a few other folks, I started calling the new Pope "B16" right away, but it had nothing to do with military planes -- I think that's the reference Jeff has in mind.
He may be dating himself with it: after all, thirty years ago, "B" followed by a number was likely to be the name of a plane, a veteran B-52 or a much-debated B-1. But now, even with a war winding down, aircraft just aren't at the top of everyone's mind.
"B16" is just an obvious and affectionate nickname: it follows the label applied to his predecessor "JP2". Some of you may remember that the globe-trotting Pope was tagged early on as "J2P2", a pop-culture play on the resourceful and occasionally mysterious robot R2D2 of Star Wars. As the film's prominence faded, the shorter "JP2" became more common.
"B16" may be nothing more than a simple abbreviation, but it is the occasion for a little levity, as it sounds like the name of a vitamin, if it's not an out-of-order Bingo call.
Why does an organization with a non-profit domain name such as catholic.org send commercial spam? Personally, I don't remember signing up to get ads for wallet-sized rosaries or lame Ray Flynn's political projects. I've sent a note to the contact listed on their privacy page; let's see if they get the idea that this is not a good thing.
I keep seeing the word "perks" to describe special privileges, such as: "A free parking space is one of the perks of the job." It should be perqs, as in "perquisites":
Etymology: Middle English, property acquired by means other than inheritance, from Medieval Latin perquisitum, from neuter of perquisitus, past participle of perquirere to purchase, acquire, from Latin, to search for thoroughly, from per- thoroughly + quaerere to seek
1 : a privilege, gain, or profit incidental to regular salary or wages; especially : one expected or promised
2 : GRATUITY, TIP
3 : something held or claimed as an exclusive right or possession
In a fit of dementia, I bought about 5 pounds of candy this morning. Teresa had mentioned something about having fun dressing up and handing out candy in the past, and I was at the grocery store and saw Kit-kats, Milky Ways, 3 Musketeers, M&Ms and Snickers on sale. Remembering that the "fun size" was always a big hit when I was a kid, I bought one bag of each.
I got home and informed my wife of the purchase. She frowned and said, "No one comes here. We should be in the basement watching a movie instead of waiting for the kids to show up. But now we have to because if we don't hand out the candy then you will eat it." I assured her I wouldn't eat it but she said didn't really believe me, sort of like Marion Barry telling the cops that the crack had been left in his car by the previous owner.
So around 4pm we started the setup: Candles in the windows (the kind that can light cats on fire), terra cotta pumpkins with candles inside in the walk, and a basket full of candy.
We had the following folks show up:
2 astronauts my wife tried to make small talk with: "Where's your space ship?" "We're just kids in costumes! We don't have a space ship!" (Stupid adults!)
1 tiger
3 teen agers dressed up as disgruntled youths.
1 sort of sailor looking person
A handful of witches.
A girl who described herself as "a gothic person." Even me, in my lame understanding of modern culture, know they are called "Goths" and they just need to be in all black, black hair and maybe an extra-white face. This girl had a black shirt, a little cross and some jeans on.
So Teresa and I started talking about Halloweens of ages past. "How many times did you go dressed as a Hobo" I asked. "At least seven or eight... I bet you can't dress like a Hobo these days... wouldn't be proper..."
I told her my mom used to make our costumes. I was Death one year. I was a hobo on several ocassions, but mom thought the hobo costume needed bells sewn on for some reason... I'll have to ask her about that.
Teresa said her best costume was that she wore her dad's sailor uniform from WWII, and a girlfriend dressed like the Sweetheart he meets dockside when the ship comes back to home port. And when they rang the doorbell, her friend would leap into her arms so that Teresa was holding her up. Now that's an interesting costume.
We've been getting grunts and half-done costumes, and it's not even the time
the high school kids show up.
Before I start sounding like that old dude from 60 minutes, I leave you with this.
I did get to spend some nice time with my wife talking about Halloween's past and I've gotten about 5,000 calories out of the house. Not a bad way to spend the evening, even if I have to answer the door for a "Gothic Person."
Normally, I think music directors stop singing most hymns after two verses out of laziness and haste, but let's go along this time, and sing just two verses of Fr. Faber:
Faith of our fathers, living still,At my parish we have a very good reason to stop there. The third verse in the Seasonal Missalette runs as follows:
In spite of dungeon, fire and sword;
O how our hearts beat high with joy
Whene'er we hear that glorious Word!
Faith of our fathers, holy faith!
We will be true to thee till death.Our fathers, chained in prisons dark,
Were still in heart and conscience free:
And truly blest would be our fate,
If we, like them, should die for thee!
Faith of our fathers, holy faith!
We will be true to thee till death.
Our mothers, too, oppressed and wronged,As you probably know, that was not written by Fr. Faber, and it doesn't take a da Vinci to decrypt it as a bunch of feminist code-speak. Just count how many of those 23 words come loaded with whiny left-wing resonances, and you'll get the point.
still lived their faith in dignity;
Their brave example gives us strength
To work for justice ceaselessly....
Ideology was obviously the primary concern in producing that text, because nobody interested in beauty would have written it: just try to wrap your mouth around that word "wronged" and sing it attractively. You can't.
"Welcome to Saint Humbert's Parish. The entrance hymn is number three-hundred-and-one, 'Faith of Our Fathers'. We will sing verses one, two, and four, because verse three is some crock o's--- they put in there to please the feminazis. Please rise and greet our celebrant."
