Randomness

Thanks to all of you who continue to follow my blog, in spite of such sporadic and non-specific posts.

Let me give you a little humor.

Today, Tim the Director of Custodial Services, visited my realm. I heard him come in and as I was heading out on another errand met him in our "foyer"

Tim said to me, "I'm looking for a missing broom, wondering if you have it here somewhere."

I told him, "Oh, I took it and rode off on it last night."

He turned to walk away, tossing over his shoulder, "Well, ya shoulda rode it back!"

A Tale of Pajama -Clad Girls and a Stolen Goat

For a few days now, I've been giggling about a story out of Mankato.

Two little girls, ages 5 and 7, snuck out of their house on Saturday night, walked a mile to a Farm Park (whatever that is, exactly), and, uh...liberated a goat. They brought a leash with them and just walked the goat back to their home along a busy street, wearing their footie pajamas.

Fortunately, a neighbor saw them and thought it a strange enough sight to call 911, and fortunately, since they did look so odd, being so young, wearing pajamas in public, and leading a goat in the city, it was very easy for the chortling officer to find them.

I don't think it was very easy for the Police Officer to stifle her own laughter as she "assisted" the children and the goat home.

Today a local News channel posted a video of the story, well worth checking out!

2 MN girls pull off the great goat escape!

Now I want a goat! (Well...I've wanted goats for a long time, but I live in the city and I don't think my neighbors would appreciate goats in the garage. Or the yard. Even if they WOULD save on lawn mowing fees!

Just sayin'

From Hell

Spiders are from Hell. They are demons sent to torture us in small ways. Think about it.

My long-time readers will remember a couple posts on the topic of spiders.

The first was aptly entitled Spiders so I offer this excerpt:

Fast forward to my new townhome. For the first couple years, I lived in holy terror of the bushes. They were COVERED in funnel webs and sheet webs, spiders entered my house through microscopic cracks and I considered purchasing a S&W .45 semi-auto and staking out the doorway in order to blow every creeping spider into oblivion. Or purchase a blow-torch. Or Aqua-Net and a lighter.

Every morning as I stepped outside with the dogs, I feared walking into a web that covered the doorway. As it was, they covered the doorbell and made the bushes look like a horror-movie version of cotton-candy. Vanilla flavored. I idly wondered if I sprayed the bushes with food coloring, could I SELL the webs as a fair treat?

Spiders on a stick.

Read the rest; for once it's not a long post but it has the benefit of big, colorful pictures of spiders. Go ahead. I dare you!

You may be asking yourself, "What prompted this random post about the demonic nature of spiders?"

Well, my Google+ friend (I'm not naming him as I'm not sure if he's public or not) posted a photo of a spider sculpture demonically placed directly across from the Notre Dame Cathedral in Ottawa, Canada. The spider happens to sport a huge egg sac crawling with baby spiders ready to overcome the world. Or at least the square.

Or perhaps it is actually an allegory of an allegory of the dragon discussed in colorful detail in the book of Revelation; the dragon waiting to eat the child of the Lady, forcing her to flee to save him from the spider's dragon's terrible jaws.

I bet if we really look at the original Greek, the term for "dragon" would mean:

 "huge giant gargantuan leviathan sickening drooling snapping aggressive funnel-and-sheet-web-weaving venom-bearing creepy crawling destructive poisonous vindictive rabid syphilic leperous flesh-eating hairy scuttering scaling ebola-and-tetanus-bearing kracken with eight legs building an ecosystem out of nasty rotten cotton spun out of its rear end in order to snare unsuspecting or misdirected innocents in order to entrap them in said cotton (not silk because silk is pretty) in order to suck blood from them for eternity just for sport and to get back at God for stepping on the snake that tempted Eve and suckered Adam."

Yup. That's what "Dragon" means in Revelation. It's all there. Really.

Spiders are creatures straight from Hell.

I once had a dream about it, and sin was the vehicle that carried the spider allegory. It still haunts me, and I STILL dream of spiders and spider-like creatures when I need to go to Confession.

Oh, yes, God knows how to remind me of Hell and how I will be spending it if I continue to reject Him.

I will be spending it with spiders, dead and alive, large and small, and I will NEVER be able to escape them!

The worst part about it, is this: if in life I become comfortable with them, that is the sign that in death, I will suffer eternal separation from God in their huge giant gargantuan leviathan sickening drooling snapping aggressive funnel-and-sheet-web-weaving venom-bearing creepy crawling destructive poisonous vindictive rabid syphilic leperous flesh-eating hairy scuttering scaling ebola-and-tetanus-bearing kracken with eight legs building an ecosystem out of nasty rotten cotton spun out of its rear end in order to snare unsuspecting or misdirected innocents in order to entrap them in said cotton (not silk because silk is pretty) in order to suck blood from them for eternity just for sport and to get back at God for stepping on the snake that tempted Eve and suckered Adam with no hope of ever escaping to a dragon/spider free eternity.

In order to understand this statement, check out my eternally-haunting dream from 2007, Attachments to Sin:

I turned away and went to find my spray bottle, a spider repellant, which I hoped would kill all the spiders that still lived, even unseen, in that terrible thick web. First I went to the garage where I was careful to cover all corners and the entire door with the fine spray. Then I went to the large wall/door in my home and sprayed it down, aiming especially at anything that moved. When done, I put the bottle away then returned to the conglomeration of spider webs, trying to figure out how best to deal with the mess.


Even as I stared at it, I realized that for some reason, I was not as horrified as I should have been; I am complete arachnophobic. I HATE spiders, they freak me out and give me nightmares. (case in point!). Yet I was somewhat disaffected by the overabundance of these horrible creatures and the home they had made in my very house!. I thought this kind of complacency to be odd, even in the dream.

*shudder*

Read the rest. You'll never look at spiders or sin the same way again.

Maybe you're still thinking I'm some sort of crank case.

I ask you this: Why do I think this post makes you think differently than you ever did before?

Yup. I'm a crank case. But that doesn't make me wrong.

Think about it; Spiders are a creation of God designed to reveal the nature of evil and Hell.

1.  Some spiders are *cough choke vomit*  pretty  *choke choke choke Heimlich choke cough* in some twisted way, and attract people...well...who are attracted to that sort of...uh... *choke* beauty *choke..someone give me oxygen* !!  Ugh.  That's all I can say about that or I'll drop dead right here on my own blog.

2. Have you ever seen the morning sun, as it rises, reflect upon the dew droplets innocently caught on the predatory reflecting the new light, the dew droplets like perfect victims pearls, revealing the incredible artistic, ingenious design of the death trap ?

[Note to self: get rid of anything resembling pearls. They now remind me of dew drops being sucked to eternal torture in a demon's lair]

3.  Spiders retreat and set snares for their prey, just like demons. All the creatures who find their violent end in a spider's web or outside his trapdoor have to do is go about their daily business of flitting from flower to flower or shade to shade, only to find the horrific countenance of deformed ickyness pouncing and latching onto them in all their nasty hairy skitteriness only to suck the life from them at leisure. It's a terrible, painful death involving liquefied organs.

No wonder they've spawned so many horror flicks. Just like they spawn their young and take over the planet.

4. Spiders and their lairs spawn and then attract innocent children who are fascinated by their surroundings and see only the pretty colors. Just like sin. Sin is pretty too, but it ensnares the soul and sucks the life out of the human who also mistook it for a shiny bauble.

5. The biggest spiders are found in the hottest places on earth: the tropics, the desert. Arizona, Nevada, New Mexico, Texas, Mexico, Guatemala, etc etc through the Amazon, then Africa, the Middle East, India, Taiwan, Indonesia, Australia, New Zealand....you get the picture.

Hell is HOT. That's why spiders live there on earth, too.

6. There are 6 points, the number of imperfection, ergo: God created spiders, and because every facet and creature of His creation has theological import, it's obvious that spiders were designed to remind us of Hell.

Spiders Demons weave pretty webs but reproduce in astronomical proportions; whatever "beauty" can be attached to a spider is merely an allegory for Satan and his minions and his horrific residence.

Spiders and Demons are the same thing and should be handled in the same way they handle us: violently.

Maybe that's why the Saints said we must "do violence"  to ourselves in order to rid ourselves of sin. After all, demons, by seeking to separate us from God, do violence to us, and spiders are, by nature, bloodthirsty, violent creatures.

I will never again feel guilty about "wasting" ammo on a spider. They're great for target practice.

I just wish the neighbors would relax about it.

What?

Grimm's Fairy Tales Aren't So Far-Fetched

...in fact...they're usually entirely too tame.

I gotta tellya, folks, sometimes a story is too good NOT to tell.

Once Upon a Time...

..in Adoro's Townhome Association, there lived a bunch of average people with their lives and their pets and their cars and their troubles. Usually they lived together just fine among the rules, but every now and then, there appeared some Trolls who moved into the Kingdom, or Trolls who emerged from those who had always been present even from the beginning.

One winter, there came a-barking a small ferocious creature with teeth, making vicious noises towards the residents of the Kingdom, and although the creature [York Terror] was merely bait for hawks or larger dogs, it had decided, through making its owners submissive to its desires, that it was the ruler of the Kingdom.

The Kingdom {Association}, made up mostly of good, responsible taxpayers in possession of their own fuzzy creatures, gave permissive indulgence to the idiocy of the village idiots {Trolls} in the charge of the York Terror, rolling their eyes upon the group as an unavoidable vacuous monstrosity common to townhome life.

After a time, though, the People of the Kingdom [Association] became annoyed and visited upon the elected Nobility [Association Homeowners' Board] various complaints regarding the small Terror, for fear their toes and ankles might be bitten or at the very least, harassed. As it was, they were fed up with the harassment of their auditory faculties and found need to seek relief through the Association authorities when their own confrontations of the thing's caretakers were fruitless.

Adoro, in her own particular consternation, having in her care a large beast of relatively ferocious countenance, found a need to prevent it from eating the York Terror for fear that should she do so, her own dear pet would be lost to her forever no matter how responsible she was. So it was that when the York Terror came to Adoro's door and pounced upon her own beast, she found herself in a moral dilemma that hadn't much contest at all.

It wouldn't matter that the Troll's lack of control over its own York Terror was at fault, no matter how documented was that lack.

Why?

You see, the York Terror was a protected class, and even though it was without control by its Trolls, and had never in fact been trained to understand humans were dominant over Terrors, it thought it was in charge, and tried to attack anything and anyone in its path. Had Adoro's Creature of Ferocious Countenance successfully sublimated the York Terror permanently, the Ferocious Creature, by laws of the Association and the State above it, would have been killed in order to rid the world of dangerous creatures.

So you see the problem, don't you? 

So it was that Adoro, in response to a timely letter from the Kingdom [Association], reported the offenses, in hopes the Calvary would arrive to put the York Terror and its minions in their respective place, perhaps, even if necessary, banish them to another Kingdom.

Indeed, the Kingdom attempted this, but was met with resistance and in fact, the Trolls outright ignored the Decrees of the Kingdom and allowed the York Terror to run amok throughout, thus annoying and irritating all in its path.

Meanwhile Back at the Guardhouse in the Shadow of the Moat

There was Adoro, innocently imagining her dinner, when there came about, once again, the echo and then the bark and then the growl and then the attack of the dread York Terror.

Adoro, having several times confronted this Terror and several times called upon the Kingdom's authority to banish the Terror and its minions who kept it so uncontrolled, was....finally fed up. She pushed up her sleeves, rolled up her cuffs, and took matters into her own hands; it was time to tame the beast and face the Terror that was so misnamed as to be far to gauche to represent the County of York by its name.

Vigilante Justice

Over the long winter, Adoro had obtained photos, had chased the Terror, had listened to it, had held her own Creature of Ferocious Countenance back from it, and one day, the CFC escaped and dominated the Terror as it gnashed its chops at her very door. Adoro could not hold her own Creature of Ferocious Countenance back from the vicious, unsupervised and unprovoked attack of the York Terror, for the latter would have otherwise encroached her very homestead.

Adoro, though, fearful the CFC would unlawfully damage or kill the Terror without the Kingdom's sanction, intervened at great risk to herself most especially from the Terror, and let the Terror yipe its way in horror back to its home as it realized Adoro's CFC, was, in fact...far more powerful and had far less patience for unmitigated yiping  than did the otherwise permissive human content of the Kingdom.

The next night, Adoro noted that the York Terror had convinced, by its terrified yiping, its Troll Servants-fancying-themselves-as-masters to pretend to contain it by nylon straps, along with its Guardian companion. Neither Adoro nor her Creature of Ferocious Countenance were fooled...they knew this battle wasn't over. The Trolls were only waiting their chance.

So it came....

Meeting the Head Troll

On this very evening, Adoro was busy at her work when she heard the clarion call of the York Terror emerging from its nest. Even though the critter had not encroached Adoro's territory as of yet, its voice was one with which to be reckoned, and Adoro was not pleased when it went on for more than the law allowed. After that time, Adoro left her abode, keeping her own creatures at bay, and approached the York Terror and its fellow canine Guardian, in hopes of taming and quieting the creature(s).

Adoro sat quietly on the curb, the property of the Kingdom, and found that the York Terror was silent but its stablemate and Guardian was, in fact, a mouthpiece with which to be reckoned lest one lose possession of one's ankles!

Little by little, the Guardian calmed, and even approached, and by silence and eye contact and basic presence, Adoro was able to bring dominion to the Terror and his other worthless canine companion. It was sufficient that Adoro be present in order for the small canines to be silent, for Adoro is Alpha dog and will not stand for canine pertinence in any form.

Adoro left the venue, contentedly until she heard that clarion call again not five minutes later... 

She returned, then, to the venue, again sans her own Creature of Ferocious Countenance for she planned to calm the Beast(s) and perhaps finally entice their puppets (owners) out for negotiations.

So it was. 

Finally King Troll emerged from his cave and demanded to know what Adoro wanted. 

Adoro explained that she wanted nothing more than the peace to which she was entitled as a home owner in the Kingdom.

The Troll disagreed and demanded she leave the property at once.

Adoro stood her ground to the bare-chested, pants-falling, white-bearded, nostril-flaring ogre of a Troll, explaining quite candidly that, in fact, she RESIDED there and thus had a right to stand where she was, with an even greater right to be there as she was protesting the sound and presence of the York Terror and his other Canine Guardian, well heard at her own abode far away.

The Troll, sticking to his fly-strip platform,  threatened to call the Kingdom's ultimate Authorities, wherein Adoro found it necessary to cite the very Ordinance and why the creatures allegedly under the Troll's control were, in fact, not, and therefore liable to legal citation while, Adoro was, in fact, not liable to any kind of citation, she being a quiet and legal resident with full property ownership also in full possession of auditory capabilities, thus identifiying the Troll's issues as those contrary to the law.

The Troll, having nothing to say in his own defense, fully confused by actual intelligence and actual citation of actual law, stepped threateningly towards Adoro, even raising his fist to order her off "his land."

Had he been green, Scottish-accented, and more ogre-like, he might have been cute in a Disney-style Ogre-like sorta way, but he was more akin to an anti-Shreck than anything else. And in any case, Adoro was not impressed nor intimidated by the anti-Shreck imitation.

Adoro, understanding that, in fact, the Troll was indeed trying to physically intimidate her, raised her own hand in a "stop" gesture, not breaking the Troll's gaze, growling, "Don't you DARE!"

The Troll, seeing something in Adoro's eyes (for it certainly wasn't in her diminuitive 5'3" in.  stance in his great hulking shadow, nor was she making a fist), stopped, and ordered her to move her "fat arse."

Adoro, not the least bit offended, quite ready to admit that, in fact, she has indeed gained too much weight in recent years (and knows how to use it),  with a glint of mirth, questioned the Troll whose "fat arse" was bigger and therefore less worthy of using that term of attack.

The Troll turned back to Adoro, unable to believe she was still there arguing with his bare-chested, pants-falling, COPS-ready stance, only to find, much to his chagrin, that COPS was not actually filming in the Kingdom at the time. He tried again and again to chase Adoro from "his" property, only to learn that Adoro claimed, rightfully the same place and further, that the City Ordinance was, in fact, on her side and she would not hesitate to use it.

Adoro even tried to make a deal with the Troll;  to move his unruly Terrors into his own cave and keep them quiet and then, as a favor, Adoro would, in fact, go away (as far as she could on their shared property), and would not call the Kingdom's Ultimate Authority (COPS).. Adoro  held out her hand and offered to "shake" on it.

["shake" is a human interaction that binds an agreement between equals]

The Troll turned away, yelling, "(Fbomb), I'm not shaking your (Fbomb) anything!"

Adoro turned away mirthfully, tossing over her shoulder, in place of salt, the adage, "That's OK, I don't shake anything when I don't know where it's been.", wishing only such adage could have been proclaimed in a solid Cockney accent as it would have had far more flavor and pertness to it.

Just the same, it had the proper effect and the Troll fled to his cave, muttering, shocked, defeated, and took the York Terror and its pathetic if loud Guardian in with him, to be kept silent throughout the remaining hours of the night.

Time will only tell until the York Terror will again menace Adoro's door...but when it happens, the Kingdom's Official Guard will be ready, complete with cages and documents, for shelters, foster homes, jail time, court dates, and.....

Wait!

When did Fairy Tales get so heavy on the paperwork?????

*shrug* Well...no matter. It's my story and I'm stickin' to it and may well soon have the police reports to prove it.  ;-)

...And they lived Happily Ever After! ..........

?

Kibbles n' Bits

Well, my friends, I'm doing it again.

I'm going to foster another dog. This one is a greyhound mix, although I'd inquired about a German Shepherd that looked to be a good fit at my house as a temporary home for him.  As it turned out, another foster home had claimed the GSD so I was put in touch with the person in charge of whatever category the grey-mix fits into.

He's a beautiful dog, quite a young one at only 11 months, but from the description given sounds to have the greyhound personality. That would work in my house and with my work hours, hopefully!

Unless his temporary foster home in another state adopts him (there is talk of this), then look for my new friend to be introduced early next week, complete with photos and new drama!

I guess I just can't help myself. I love dogs and I've got a heart for the unwanted.

In other news....

I'm as ditzy today as I was yesterday.  When I went to get dog food I handed over my Petco card, but failed to actually PAY for the purchase with my debit card. It took a few moments of me standing there confusedly waiting to sign a receipt that was not forthcoming.

Then after another errand I went to put something in my trunk and it wouldn't open. Not the button in the car, not the remote. It was stuck. No "click!" to unlock. Nothing.

Thankfully I was near my regular car repair place so I stopped in and asked for assistance. He went to the back to pull up on the trunk while I hit the interior button. Nothing.

Then he asked to see my keys. I was about to tell him the remote wasn't working either, when he pulled out my actual KEY and used THAT to open the trunk.

Wow! Why didn't I think of that!? D'OH!

I told him outright I felt stupid. He was nice and tried to make me feel better about being a total idiot and pointed out that the lock was, in fact, jammed due to obvious lack of use.

Guess that was my lesson in humility for today: I make fun of people who do the stupid things I did today with my "jammed" trunk.

*sigh*

Obviously I need a vacation.

Or maybe just a few more brain cells - some that actually function would be nice.

Say What?!

I'm at work today and a bit fried from everything going on. It's just TOO MUCH!

My schedule is in flux due to all the events and I have a running catalogue in my head of everything that needs to be done yesterday.

So I went down the hallway to speak with one of the teachers about one of our shared events. As we spoke she reminded me of some information I still need to provide to her.

Hmm...when can I get that to her? It has to be before Friday afternoon. 

"Ok, let's see.."  (thinking..)  "Well, I don't think I'm going to be here today."

Just as I said this I looked over and saw her expression and realized that I was, in fact, standing in her classroom, in person, speaking to her.

OK, so I guess I'm in today.

She's still laughing at me. I can hear her all the way down the hallway.....

Meditation on Distraction

This morning, en route to work, I was praying the rosary and specifically meditating upon the Sorrowful Mysteries. At some point though, my mind wandered from Christ's Passion and went through a recipe catalogue somewhere in the depths of my brain. As I prayed Hail Mary's, I imagined seafood salad and came up with an ingredients list then realized how long it's been since I've made that salad.

Suddenly I realized I was praying the last two decades but couldn't recall actually pondering the Crowning of Thorns. The last thing I remembered was the beginning of Jesus being scourged and somewhere after that, the terrible weapons turned into the knives used to slice onions and celery to be added to the chopped seafood.

And I was ashamed. How, exactly, did I go from Our Lord's most Sorrowful Passion to...seafood salad on crackers?

How in the world did I manage to pray Hail Mary's, Pater Nosters (half in Latin, half English), Glory Be's, all in apparent praise of a salad?

I wasn't even hungry!

Oh, sure, Jesus said He would make us "fishers of men" but I'm sure He didn't have a chopped seafood salad in mind when He said that.

*sigh*

I'll let you know how the salad comes out when I make it next. I've got the ingredients.

In the meantime, please pray for me. I'll try to pray for you but I must warn you; I may begin with great intentions but end up prayerfully meditating on summer cole slaw, caprese salad or grilled steak instead.

The Joke's on Me!

Back in 1996, I was in the market for a handgun.

I'd graduated with my B.A. degree, had passed the Police Officers Standards and Training (POST) Boards, and knew that it was only a matter of time before some police department (hopefully) hired me. I needed to be able to practice and I wanted to practice and become intimately familiar with a handgun that wasn't just my own for random range recreation, but something that might be carried as a backup weapon, that of which would also be compatible with my likely duty ammo.

So it was that I demoed an HK .9mm, found it to be far more accurate than the .9mm Glocks we used in training, and decided I'd make it the love of my life (as far as saving it if necessary).  While I'll admit I REALLY wanted the Sig Sauer .45, since I couldn't afford that holy grail of weaponry, the HK was satisfactory enough.

Minnesota State Law required that I apply for a permit to purchase which was good for the period of one year. It was further required that I wait 24 (or was it 48?) hours after submitting the application. So it was that on the prescribed day, I went down to the Law Enforcement Center to pick up my approved permit to purchase the gun on hold for me at the local gun shop.

I went to the window, and as I was a Police Reserve Officer, saw a few Officers I knew who waved at me as they walked by.

Unfortunately, I was on a short schedule and had to return home, but when I arrived a friend asked to see my permit so I pulled it out of my purse to show him. Just before I handed it over, explaining the State Law and the year limit, I saw the date of expiration:  "April 1, 1996".

I burst out laughing as I handed it to my very confused friend for a gander, having finally realized the joke on me. (The next day I returned to the LEC for a replacement permit, and then purchased the gun.)

Given the disposition of my law enforcement career, I find this memory absolutely hilarious, especially as I recall badge number assigned to me when I was sworn in a few months later:  Badge #72.

1. **   **  ** 

For those who need an explanation:

My permit to purchase expired on the day it was issued:  April 1, 1996.  [Sure you can buy a gun - NOT!]

My badge #72, received the day I was sworn in, corresponded to police code #10-72:  DOA.[Dead on Arrival]

APRIL FOOLS! 

Synergy

This afternoon I was in the Adoration chapel at my parish, spending a wee bit o' time in prayer, when some movement on the floor caught my attention. I peered at it for awhile, trying to determine what it was - an elderly box elder bug? No; as it got closer, I saw that it was a spider exploring the area under the pews.

Uh oh. I looked up at Jesus, then back at the floor. Where was it going? I didn't want it crawling on me...or anyone else, either. The chapel was beginning to fill, slowly, as people arrived for Confessions and Mass.

I looked back at the floor and saw that the creepy creature had moved into the aisle. It was close enough to me..I could stand up and step on it, but I wondered if that would be right. Even though I'm terrified of spiders and knew I'd continue to be distracted as long as I saw the thing, I didn't know if I could kill in cold blood right there before Our Lord's True Presence.

So it was, as I had my interior debate, that I was watching the spider as it wandered the aisle, and I glanced periodically up towards the altar, wondering about the morality of murdering a spider in the chapel - a spider which had not yet actively threatened my personal space.

Then a man left the confessional and as he passed before the Blessed Sacrament, he paused and turned to bow, and in so doing, unknowingly stepped on and squished the spider.

Thank you, Jesus!

On the Subject of Ranting

...here's something I hope you'll REALLY like!  :-D

Random Search Terms

Every so often I take a gander at the search terms used to find my blog. Over time, I've noticed, without needing to check the actual statistics, the most popular posts.

Sometimes, the oddest terms are used to find the most popular of my posts, or those that are more obscure, and sometimes I just roll my eyes as I try to figure out what Google is doing to direct people to my blog. The results are both humorous and serious so I'll share a cross-section with you along with my responses:


Query:  Cow eye spiritual direction

Not sure where you're going with that, but if a spiritual director had cow eyes present (without being attached to a living cow) I'd get the heck out of her office!

My friends have informed me, however, that my blog is the #3 resource for those using that particular search term.

I'm proud to be your third-ranked expert, worldwide.

Query:  Remember your forefathers.

Serious request, landing on 5 Grains of Corn, written after an intense lecture by one of my grad professors and he was right, on every count. I've never looked at Thanksgiving the same way again.

Query:  Summa theologica abstinence meat contemplation

This one landed them on my post on Why Catholics Eat Fish on Fridays.  I gotta say, though, given that word combination, I love the Summa Theologia, I abstain from meat on Fridays and therefore find that the contemplation of tasty meat is one of my favorite hobbies.  Mmmmm.....steak...bacon....roasted pork...barbecued chicken..... mmmmmmm.....

Go away! Can't you tell I'm contemplating here? What? Isn't the grill big enough for you?  Huh? Huh?  HUH? WHA-AT?

Oh, sorry, got carried away.  *blush*

*AHEM!*

OK moving on now...

Query: How do you rinse sauerkraut?

Great question, and one of the most common hits to my blog.  I had that question once, too.  What I did was empty the bag (I was using Sweet Bavarian, as if "sweet" and "sauerkraut" aren't totally ironic terms when used in relation to one another), into a colander, took the sprayer and hosed that fermented, shredded hunk of rotted cabbage down to remove every trace of the vinegary ooze it was contained within.  Then, when I was satisfied, I added it to a bunch of other ingredients to ensure that rotten vegetable would never be tasted by anyone who hates it as much as I do.

Please don't ask me about lutefisk. I may be Swedish but it has been my great pleasure, thus far, to avoid that rotted gel formerly known as fish flesh and  if someone asked me how to rinse it I'd suggest using lighter fluid and a match then maybe a shallow grave somewhere in the northern woods.

Query: www.St Augustine's letters on Prayers to Lady Propio.com

Well, that's unique. Possibly looking for St. Augustine's letters to Proba?

Try here, then scroll down to the Third Division. Is that what you're looking for?  Some excerpts in that letter came up in the readings of the Divine Office in the 29th week in Ordinary Time.


Query:  Why do some men devote their lives to cats?

Oddly enough, I've seen this question more than once and have NO IDEA why those asking that question are directed to my blog.

I have no idea why men devote their lives to cats, or even that any men anywhere would ever do such a thing.

I would therefore suggest that the person making the query pose it to the man they have in mind, in hopes he may explain his obsession addiction devotion   uh.... lifelong interest in the feline species.

Query:  Jesus, I trust in You. 

Yes, I do, too. Amen!

Real Women Wear...

So this week, I was really scandalized to read "Pants - A Manifesto", followed by "Pants Pass", although not the posts themselves, but all the insane (and some insanely hifreakinlarious) comments from extreme crazies all over the interwebs.

Seriously, why does the question of "skirts versus pants" bring out all the insane extremists from all corners?

Listen up, y'all, I have a solution to this that should put an end to this "debate" once and for all! 

Some of you may recall the post I wrote some time ago, Real Women Wear Kevlar.  (If you're unfamiliar with it, go check it out so you can get the proper background on what I'm going to say next. And yes, I will know if you only skimmed over it because your comments will be typically insane, much like what poor Simcha experienced with her tongue-in-cheek posts!).

So! Here is my solution to the pants vs skirts debate:

ARMOR! 

There are those who would argue that pants are "immodest" and one really "you have to work hard to be this creepy" suggestion was that on a woman, pants "create an arrow to her crotch".

OK, what if that has merit? Let's consider that, for after all it is the extreme!  And it is related to the claim that pants in general induce men to lust after strange women. (Never mind if he's that fickle he's the one who is strange and sick.)

On the other hand, there are those who claim skirts are immodest and another creepy suggestion was that skirts provide "easy access" and therefore, incite men to lust.

Now, we are excluding from this conversation things such as painted-on pants that are tighter than skin, and we are excluding rubber-band skirts that are shorter and tighter than underwear. I think we can ALL agree that these things are not fit to be worn in public unless covered by a burqua.

OK?  OK then.

So! Armor it is!

Ladies, for your fashion pleasure and for the safety of men who apparently feel entitled to "enjoying your beauty" such that they forget about "custody of the eyes" being a part of THEIR responsibility, let me offer you a line of clothing that will satisfy everyone on all extremes!

ARMOR!

First, we will have a cotton-lined, Kevlar-covered iron chastity belt. The covering over the iron will allow "breatheability" but we'll also be using a new, revolutionized process to create it out of ironwood with a lead core, ensuring that even the strongest of chainsaws cannot cut through it!

A special code will be programmed into it (in the most modest possible area) allowing for replacement, cleaning (only with a team of handmaids to protect privacy) and of course, upgrades and adjustment for size.

Married ladies will have a model that will allow only one person to have the code, that being her husband. He'll never have to worry that she'll cheat on him again!

PANTS! 

Now, for those ladies who prefer pants to skirts, the armor worn by the Knights of yore would work very well. The addition to be made is a longer "skirt" of metal to cover down to the knees, but designed in such a way that she won't even realize that she's wearing anything resembling a skirt!

And the good news is that there will be no need of worrying about whether the pants are too tight or if they reveal too much, because metal is opaque! And...no worries about "plumber butt" with those problems we ALL have with buying pants:  you know, if it fits in the hips it's monstrous in the waist, so if we sit down we reveal our butt-tattoos!

Bah! Those days are OVER with Pants of Armor (tm)!

These warm, comfortable Pants of Armor come in different sizes and with different types of inner padding, or, for you mothers, outer padding or spray-on coatings to ensure that your wet, sticky children don't become inextricably stuck to you on those frigid winter days. On the flipside, if that's the best way to get them to go somewhere, you can carry them around hands-free!

SKIRTS! 

Now, for you ladies who prefer skirts, the solution is, of course, the Chain Maille option! The Chain Maille is handmade, lined with Kevlar and cotton, although it comes with a hair-shirt option for the most serious and penitential.

The delicate chain work flows quite naturally but as it clinks against your chastity belt, it will remind all men anywhere in your vicinity that you are most certainly not "easy" and, in fact, given that you're wearing armor, you can easily brain the nearest overzealous suitor with simply a practiced swish of your skirt!

Still not convinced?  

Then let me advocate for you the fitness benefits of this clothing line!

You know how easy it is to gain weight in that simple, light fabric we're so used to in this day and age. Everything "stretches", allowing us to "let ourselves go".  Not armor! Not only does it squeeze everything in, making it impossible to breathe or eat if we gain too much weight, but on hot days it becomes a sauna, helping to sweat off the pounds! Besides, given that each clothing item weighs anywhere from 15 to 80 pounds each, you'll have the strength of ten Wonder-Women within a week of wearing it!

Say goodbye to those expensive and prohibitive Health Club or Spa memberships - YOU WON'T NEED THEM ANYMORE!

But WAIT!  There's MORE!

Objection:  I can't wear chain maille - I don't shave my legs!

Answer:  That's OK!  If you leave off the Kevlar leggings for only a day, you'll never have to shave your legs again! The Chain Maille acts much like a day at the spa, but without all the heat, wax and immodesty!  Simply walk or move about as your normally would, or even when sitting in your chair you'll find that the maille will be able to reach even the most difficult places!  The Chain Maille used on the inside layer of the skirt is the finest and most delicate and you won't even notice when the inside of the skirt turns into a hair-skirt! Great for wear during Lent and Ember Days and all Fridays throughout the year especially when your legs are smooth as a baby's butt!

So! There you have it!  Are you ready to make your purchase?

If so, just go to www.modestwomenweararmor.com and buy your new clothing line today! 

Ladies, whether you prefer pants or skirts, once you're clad in armor, you can be seen as "easy on the eyes" without ever been seen as "easy" ever again! 

Call 1-888-MODESTARMOR today! 

A Few of My Favorite Things

I have a mischevious nature and sometimes I just love to let it loose. For example:

I have a couple tattoos. Most people don't know I have them, including my mother. As most people have no idea and it's not typically a topic of conversation, I don't usually have need to announce the fact, and I'm not into swimming anymore (unfortunately, but can't afford the membership), that fact about me remains hidden to people who know me. 

Many of my friends are very solid, very traditionally-minded Catholics and Protestants, and most of them have very strong opinions about many things. Usually when one of us goes off on a rant about something, we're all ranting together in full agreement. 

Until it comes to tattoos. Then, this is truly one of my favorite things to do:  I let them go off on their anti-tat rant. When they are sufficiently into it and have properly denounced not just the artform, but those who practice it, engage in it, become a canvas for it, etc, I will quietly pipe up and say, "I have tattoos."

This is my favorite part:

I love to watch the colors that particular ranter turns when they hear my little confession. They are typically shocked right on down to their little bitty toes and back, and clearly have NO IDEA what to say or how to reach. I love the look of horror that comes over their countenances when they realize what they said, and in fact, their very personal attacks actually applied to someone in their presence they consider to be a friend (and good Catholic). I especially adore the sputtering sound that comes out of them as they try to backtrack, even apologize for what they just said...

And there I sit, enjoying the show, smiling, not offended one bit. After all, they're entitled to their opinion.

But if they are entitled to their opinion, it seems to me that I am likewise entitled to a bit of harmless entertainment at their expense.  ;-)

Ah, yes, life with Adoro.

First Formal Act as a "Theologian"

Earlier this week (or was it sometime last week?) I experienced my first formal act as a Theologian.

Right. A "Theologian."

We were working on organizing and cleaning a storage room which was mostly housing stuff from our suffer  ah...I mean...summer activities. yes, that's right. Summer events. [As if they don't involve massive suffering the likes of which few human beings outside of youth ministry have ever seen.] 

**       **       **

Anyway.... *AHEM*

On that afternoon, the Business Administrator (who himself actually carries a Ph.D in Business Administration among other qualifications for his job) came down and asked if any of us knew "the formal title of the Pope."

I asked what he meant: Diplomatic title? Letter salutation? What?

We were still working, not realizing it was a serious question.  I offered a few titles for the Pope:  Pontiff, Holy See, Holy Father...

He told me that there was a woman on the phone with the Bookkeeper asking for the information. He didn't know what she meant but thought I should come talk to her.

As I left my task to walk back with him to the office, he said, "You are the Theologian; this is your area. We don't want to give her the wrong answer."

OK.

When I arrived at the Bookkeeper's office (I STILL have no idea why she was talking with the Bookkeeper about this), I heard said Bookkeeper say to her, "Benedict the 16th?" She had an expression of completely confused panic on her face.

The moment she saw me enter the door, a look of absolute relief crossed her countenance. She repeated the name of the Pope and said that I was there to talk with her and could give her the answer for certain...then handed the phone to me, proper introduction and all.

All I had to say was "Hello!"

The frail, crackly voice on the other end of the line immediately endeared me to the caller.  (I got a soft spot....shocking, I know!)

She said to me, "Oh, hello!  I just want to know...is it Pope Benedict the 16th? Is that right?"

It sounded to me that it was quite possible she had been around at the time of Pope Benedict XV (and gosh, I've often mistaken that Pope's numerals for our current one at a glance and in terms of theology), so I was immediately understanding.

She didn't want the Pope's "formal title". She wanted the Pope's name!

"Yes, Ma'am.  Pope Benedict XVI".

Elderly Lady:  "Oh, thank you so much! I just wanted to be sure as I write this down!"

"Oh, you're welcome, you're absolutely right."

"OK, thank you, goodbye!"

*click*!

GOSH! Being a Theologian is HARD!

I hope the questions don't get any harder than THIS!

But I gotta tellya, I'm glad to know that if anyone wants to know the name of our current Pope...I got THAT one in the bag!

So glad my degree is going to use!  And God bless that dear lady who called. No idea why this was a question or what she was writing down, but it was enough of a concern to have to call her local local parish, which, much to her surprise, apparently was located in Mayberry and run by the Keystone Cops!

I can't figure out where Opie was that day, though....

On Blogging and Criticism

Famous quotes about writing paraphrased (and bastardized) for your enjoyment and edification:

Where do I find the time for not reading so many blogs?  

~ Karl Kraus (1874-1936)

Your blog is both good and original, but the part that is good is not original and the part that is original is not good. 

~ Samuel Johnson (1709-1784)

The reason why so few good blogs (and newspaper stories) are written is that so few people who can write know anything...including how to write. 

~ Bastardized by Adoro, original quote by Walter Bagehot (1826-1877) 

Blogs are an unrivaled vehicle for telling the truth about other people. 

~ Philip Guedalla (1889-1944)

Blog:  Something published in haste and regretted at leisure. 

~ Oliver Herford (1863-1935)

The newspaper is the natural enemy of the blog, as the whore is of the decent woman. 

~ The Goncourt Brothers, 1858

A well-written blog is almost as rare as a well-spent life. 

~ Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881) (This one is so bastardized it might be my own creation)  

A person who publishes a blog appears willfully in public with his pants down. 

~ Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950)

The man who reads blogs is better educated than the man who reads nothing but newspapers. 

~ (Bastardized by Adoro, original quote by Thomas Jefferson, i.e. "the man who reads nothing at all"....et al)

A blogger is a lucky person who has found a way to discourse without being interrupted. 

~ Charles Poore

Journalism largely consists in saying "The Blogger is dead" to people who never knew bloggers even existed.

~  Adoro, orig. G.K. Chesterton 1(1874-1936)

Bloggers have two main problems. One is blogger's block, when the words won't come at all, and the other is logorrhea, when the words come so fast that they should be deleted before they are typed. 

~ Bastardized by Adoro, albeit true, inspired by original quote by Cecilia Bartholomew 

Blogging is turning one's worst moments into a warning for others. 

~ Adoro, inspired by J.P. Donleavy

If you can't annoy somebody, there is little point in blogging. 

~ Kingsley Amis

Unprovided with original learning, unformed in the habits of thinking, unskilled in the arts of composition, some resolved to write a blog. 

~ Edward Gibbon (1737-1794)

Asking a blogger what he thinks about critics is like asking a lamp-post how it feels about dogs. 

~ Christopher Hampton

When a blog and head collide and there is a hollow sound, is it always from the blog?  

~ Georg Christoph Lichtenberg (1742-1799)

This one is too good to be misquoted or bastardized:  

Everywhere I go I'm asked if I think the university stifles writers. my opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them. There's many a bestseller that could have been prevented by a good teacher.  

~ Flannery O'Connor

*** The foundation of all quotes was taken from the anthology 1,911 Best things Anybody Ever Said compiled by Robert Byrne. *****

Story Time!

I haven't had a Story Time in awhile, so settle in, grab your iced tea or warm milk or hot cocoa or water with a twist of lemon. Whatever works. Tonight I'm going to tell two stories: one from my rookie cop days (all I was was a rookie so I'm a bit of an expert on rookie stupidity) and one from my veteran insurance investigator days.

The Rookie

Tonight I was watching the new show, "Rookies" or whatever it's called. I cringe at a lot of it as it isn't like any rookiehood I've ever heard of or experienced, but heck, it's Hollywood and God knows they can't tell a story right if their lives and careers depended on it. (That explains a lot of what happens to celebs, but I digress.) Obviously, screenwriters know nothing about how reality makes a far better story than their pedantic and adolescently immature daydreams about what it would be like to be a cop.

Anyway, in part of tonight's version, the rookie cop ends up being left alone at a crime scene, there to keep the woman of the house company until her husband got home. But when the stuff goes down, she realizes that for some weird reason, she forgot to load her gun that morning.

I gotta be honest here; I don't remember ever UN-LOADING my gun! It wasn't our department policy. Heck, I should have ejected the round I carried in my gun during my tour of duty and had it bronzed as the round that was chambered and then retired without ever having to explode.  But I digress.

At the end of the show, the Captain (or whatever he was according to their hierarchy), when Rookie confesses to not having loaded her gun, tells her that it's a common mistake and "that's why you have a partner."

There's truth there; it IS a common mistake, and I remember the night I made that mistake myself!  The difference was this: it wasn't that I'd forgotten to load my gun. I had rather forgotten to bring it with me!

How did that happen?

On Day 1 on the Job, my FTO (Field Training Officer) gave me a tour of the facility and the holding area, showing me the lockbox for weapons. If an arrest was made, we searched them outside of holding, then once they were clear put our own weapons in the lock box.  My FTO said that he put the key (like a gym locker key) in his rear pocket as it would remind him, when he sat on it, that he'd forgotten his gun.

I think I did as he suggested, certain that if I sat on that oddly-shaped thing I'd remember before I ever left the station that I didn't have my gun.

Well, one night we brought a guy in, processed him, and hit the road. This was a normal practice. I remember driving through the streets, my FTO giving various instructions and suddenly I became aware that something was missing.

With a gasp I put my hand to my hip and confessed that....I didn't have my gun!

You know those dreams you have where you show up somewhere public and you're naked or clad only in your underwear?

The realization that I didn't have my gun was a lot like that, but WORSE as I realized that in my role, the public depended on me to have my gun. It wasn't about humiliation; it was quite literally life and death!

In embarrassment I returned to the station and my FTO let me go back inside by myself (it must have been 30 minutes to an hour after we'd left) so that I could sheepishly collect and holster my weapon. Oh, yes, the ribbing that came my way!

I thanked God nothing had happened in that time period; after all, even though my career was short, I did have need to unsnap my .45 and withdraw it during that tenure! I think that while on the Job, I'd rather have been naked than without my gun, even though I hoped and prayed never to have to use it!

It was a serious Rookie dumb moment:  honestly, how do you NOT notice that the weight of a .45 Smith & Wesson is absent?

Y'all, pray for rookie cops; they do stupid things, and you do NOT want them to be doing stupid things when YOU are the one calling 911!

       *       *       *

The Nice Car Thief

This story isn't mine, but it's so memorable and awesome I find the need to post it for your edification and entertainment!

One day, hard at work at my desk, I got a call from a new investigator who had the most interesting case; he thought it so funny he HAD to share it, and I'm glad he did!

It was, for once, a legitimate car theft claim.  The woman reported her car stolen, she gave a good description on the maintenance that was done and, importantly, that which was needed. She described the prior damage to her car (nicks, scratches, door dings, lights out...etc.  I don't know the specifics for her car, but it was an older model so she knew a lot of the marks that would identify it.).

As with many older-model legit thefts, her car was recovered within a couple weeks. She called to inform the Investigator of the recovery and said she was going down to the Impound lot to look at it and sign the paperwork that would allow the Insurance company to inspect it and tow it if needed.

She called her Rep/Investigator from Impound, completely perplexed.

Customer: Hi, Scott. I'm out here at the impound, and I'm looking at my car right now.

"Scott":  Great!  How is it?

Customer:  Well...this is weird. I'm looking at it, and it's DEFINITELY my car, but......

Scott:  What's wrong?

Customer:  Well......remember how I told you about the damage to my bumper? That big scratch I said was there?

Scott:  Yes...

Customer:  It's GONE!  It's like....he fixed it!  But...this is DEFINITELY my car, but it looks way better than it did before!  It's driveable so...can I get it out of here and take it home?

Scott:  Yes, go ahead. Save the receipt of the impound fees so we can credit you towards your deductible, then give me a call back if you find anything wrong with it.

That's where he thought it ended. A couple hours or so later, the woman called back.

Customer:  Hi, Scott, I got my car back and I have the receipt from impound. But..this is really weird.

Scott:  Hi! What's going on with your car?

Customer:  Well....I told you about the bumper, but, you know how I said that it needed an oil change and that it was making a funny sound before?

Scott:  Yes, I remember....is it worse?

Customer:  No! Actually...it's better! It's like...he fixed my car! It's running BETTER than I ever remember it running!

Scott:  SERIOUSLY????? 

Customer:  YES!

(pause, shocked silence as neither knew how to react)

Customer:  So...I guess you can close the claim, there isn't any damage to my car. It's actually better now than before it was stolen!  The impound fees are under my deductible and I'm happy to have my car back.  He even cleaned it out!

Scott:  I'm glad it turned out so well for you. This is amazing!  I'll go ahead and close the claim, but do let me know if anything does turn up, and I would like a copy of your out of pocket expense in case something else comes up.

Customer:  I'll fax it to you for your file. I can't get over this!  (laughing)

Scott:  (laughing)

**

You'd think it's over, right?  But wait...there's MORE!

A couple days later, the customer called the Representative back:

Customer:  Hi, Scott, you're not going to believe this....

Scott:  What happened? Is everything all right?

Customer:  Well, I was putting everything back in order. My maintenance manual is missing, but I found an insurance card in the mailbox.

Scott:  Oh?

Customer: Yeah! It looked different than my card, and I looked at the date on it...it was insured through Company XYZ a couple days after it was stolen, and I want to give you all the info.  HE INSURED MY CAR!  (*LAUGHING*)

***       ***       ***

Need I go on? I'm STILL laughing over that one and hoping this guy will steal MY car!  I only wish he had stolen it before the recent (and necessary) brake job/oil change.  My tranny flush is WAY overdue, but yet another thing to hit the credit card along with the brake replacement charges.

Is there a thief out there willing to take my car, fix it, and leave it for the cops to pick up? It would be cheaper to pay impound than to actually pay for it....

(Just sayin'....)

I gotta say, that was the BEST car theft story I ever head. I only regret that it went to a rookie instead of one of we veterans in need of a serious break...

***       ***       ***

This Story Time has been brought to you by Adoro in hopes you have found comedic relief. Please show your appreciation in the combox if you would like Story Time with Adoro (TM) to be a regular feature.

Overheard in Adoro's World

The other night I went to Mass and afterwards talked with a friend for a few minutes.  His 11-year-old niece and teen nephew were with him, also engaging in the conversation in various ways.

As we were walking out of the church, the 11-year-old suddenly piped up and asked me, "So you're really holy, huh?"

"Nope! I'm a sinner!"

"Too BAD for YOU!"

Oh, kid, you have no idea.....

Call me "Bones"

Tomorrow I graduate with my Master's degree: a day I actually thought would never come.

It's been a long 3 years. I've read a lot of books and in the meantime, I've built up a stack of "wanna-read" titles.  Right now I'm in the middle of 4 of them. Being sick of being in the middle of a stack of books once again, in the interim between our last class weekend and now, I've been immersing myself in catching up with my new favorite TV show, "BONES".

Shameful confession:  I actually fell in love with this show when I caught it sometime during my last semester of class.

Watching improbable investigations about crimes that were far more fascinating than any I ever completed has excited my good memories about law enforcement and investigation of fraud, and the other day I found myself giggling over an old memory.

I admit it: I'm still giggling a bit, especially at the similarities!

In my last couple years in Investigation, I was becoming very burned out as a result of several factors. Some of it was the fact that so many people were lying to me for very idiotic reasons. Some of it was the fact that people who were obvious criminals were lying just out of habit and their lies were so obvious it didn't even warrant an investigation. When I had legitimate fraud investigations I was just as happy as when I had legitimate customers.

As a result, I was becoming very jaded and crabby, and as a further consequence, at times I was beginning to lose my patience even while in the field.

On one occasion, we had an especially creepy (read: potentially physically dangerous) customer so my boss came out with me on a vehicle inspection that needed to take place at the suspected fraudmonger's home. As part of my boss's job was to do file reviews, he took this one as an opportunity, and part of that opportunity was to observe my customer interactions. Never mind the fact he was my "backup" in case this guy decided to act in the way his violent history portended.

This particular customer couldn't keep his own story, or his own alleged "damages" straight. He claimed he'd reported a theft, but there was no police record of his alleged report. He reported this and that damage, but when I was there, he gave me completely opposite "symptomatology" of his vehicle.

Tired of the game, I did what any good cop would have done:  I confronted him on the conflicts he was reporting in a very direct way:

 Me, being confrontational:  "That doesn't make any sense. In your statement you said X, but now you are telling me Y. Which is it?"

And then the customer stared at me and tried to hedge around the conflict. I was unrelenting and pressed him on the point.

I wanted to know what I was looking at and what I was assessing his vehicle for. What was he claiming? I did NOT have the time to come out to evaluate the next wishy-washy crappy thing he was claiming with regard to his obvious fraudulent claim.

When the customer went back inside, (tripping up his front steps in the process, only to stand up and state with great dignity, there, at 9:30 am on a weekday, "I'm drunk!") my supervisor quite literally PULLED me aside and said with gritted teeth, "QUESTION HIM ON THE PHONE, NOT IN PERSON!"

He was obviously holding in his OWN temper. (Imagine Booth and Brennan at this point.)

I feigned innocence even knowing I was totally busted in this file review.

Me, feigning innocence to my boss:  "What?  I need to know what he's claiming so I can document it. I'm just giving him a chance to explain his contradictions!"

The criminal customer was coming back down the steps, and this time managed to maintain his footing with the heavy assistance of the railing.  My supervisor stared at me balefully as I came from behind the man's  vehicle to accept some paperwork he was handing over.

I smiled sweetly and asked for clarification on certain points (i.e. I continued to drill him on his inconsistencies albeit in a bit of a softened manner.)

The customer moved into the garage to point something out, maybe some fluid drippings, and my supervisor said to me, again, with gritted teeth, "You are NOT carrying a .9mm anymore!"

Quietly and in a matter-of-fact tone I responded, "I didn't carry a .9mm, I carried a .45!"

Before my boss could brain me with his clipboard I stepped away to join the criminal customer in the garage to stare at the ancient oil stain he was claiming was a fresh transmission fluid leak.

This time I just rolled my eyes instead of responding, pretended to make serious note of the incident, and told the guy we'd be in touch, reminded him to get his forms in and that we were still waiting on the *snicker* police report (*that didn't exist*)

Once in the vehicle, my supervisor said to me again, "You need to remember that you are NOT carrying a .9mm anymore!"

And I corrected him AGAIN, "I didn't carry a .9mm! I carried a .45 !"

Boss:  "Whatever! Either way you're not carrying a gun!"

Me:  "He was lying to me! His story was drastically different in person than it was in his initial statement!"

Boss: "I know, I agree with you! I'm just saying that you aren't carrying a .9mm--"

"--.45!" (me, interrupting..)

Boss: "--anymore! This guy MIGHT have one and might blow you away!"

Me: "He's too drunk to walk up his own familiar steps, I doubt he'd have good aim."

Boss: "Then at least have the decency to protect company property from his bad aim." (half-joking out of exasperation at this point)

Me: "OK, fine."  (pause) "Why can't I have a gun on this job, considering all the customers who want me dead?"

*baleful sidewise stare from scowling supervisor*

Me: *sigh* 

...

Yeah, call me "Bones". (Only, don't call me Bones. Call me Dr. Brennan).

You Just Might Be a Theologian...

Last night shortly after we arrived at class, we learned from one of our classmates that, in fact, we have already graduated.  He had seen an article so called down to the University to inquire about our apparently having been granted our degrees in absentia. They told him that as the University has only one graduation, they expect at this point that we would actually complete the program and so award the degrees in our absence at the graduation ceremony held on University grounds, even though we have our own graduation ceremonies at the various locations of our cohorts.

This caused our professor to say, tongue-in-cheek, "Well, you could have blown off this whole weekend! You're full-fledged theologians now!"

So last night, just as I dropped off to sleep last night lamenting the fact that I didn't even get an invitation to my own graduation, I heard in a perfect redneck drawl... "You just might be a theologian..."

So! I have decided to create a list as to what, exactly, makes one a "Theologian!"

YOU JUST MIGHT BE A THEOLOGIAN.....

If you have ever dreamed about living in a van down by the river when you fall asleep in the chapel...you just might be a theologian.

If you have ever been awarded your graduate theology degree before you actually completed your final paper...you just might be a theologian.

If you can name at least two Rabbis cited by Pope Benedict XVI in his writings...you just might be a theologian.

If you know why a priori assumptions are a bad thing in Biblical scholarship....you just might be a theologian.

If you're so excited about the revision and implementation of the recent revision of the Missale Romanum that you can barely contain yourself....you just might be a theologian!

If you know who Schillebeeckx was, what order he was from, and why we should be praying for him now....you just might be a theologian.

Not only that, but if you know who Skilla  Schelli  Schilla. Schillebeeckx was AND can spell and, bonus, pronounce his name correctly....you just might be a theologian!

If Garrigou Lagrange, OP is one of your favorite authors and you read his works during your "free time"...you just might be a theologian. 

If you have ever referred to yourself or someone else in conversation as "a substance subsisting apart from all other substances"....you just might be a theologian.

If you know what "operatio sequitor esse" is and have ever given a both deep and precise definition of it in a random casual conversation without actually using the Latin phrase....you just might be a theologian.

If you are kept awake at night wondering what would have happened if Adam and Eve had actually 'fessed up to God instead of making clothing out of leaves....you just might be a theologian.

If your Christmas list includes the Summa because you already wore your volumes out....you just might be a theologian!

If you have ever fallen asleep in the chapel only to wake up and write the most brilliant explanation of a point of doctrine you didn't previously understand, and later learn that what you wrote was completely faithful to Church teaching....you just might be a theologian.

If you know the importance of the 1966 New Jerusalem Bible and what the modern versions removed...you just might be a theologian.

If you have ever installed a coffee pot on your DESK! ...you just might be a theologian!

If you have more theological books than you have furniture....you just might be a theologian!

If you are reading blogs and you see demands for this or that person to be excommunicated or suffer some other punishment, you think to yourself, "Canon 18!"   ...you just might be a theologian!

If you have ever felt like someone was attacking your Mother when they were attacking the Church....you just might be a theologian.

If your mother keeps a rosary on her rear-view mirror and several other sets in the cupholder...you just might be a theologian.

If you know what a chokti is and what it's for and why some people would never sell one to you if you are Roman Catholic...you just might be a theologian.

If you know the ONLY only canonical context of the word "Vocation"....you just might be a theologian.

If you can look at any topic of theology and see that it points to ecclesiology...you just might be a theologian.

If you know the history of the priesthood and how it developed in the different suri iuris's of the Church...you just might be a theologian. 

If you know what "suri iuris" means and the canonical import as it applies to an unbaptized child at the age of reason if he or she has parents of differing opinions...you just might be a theologian.

If your car has BOOKS in place of tires....you just might be a redneck....ahem...ah.... theologian without a proper jack.  

If you can type and pray the rosary at the same time....you just might be a theologian.

If you have a question NONE of your theology professors have been able to answer....you just might be a theologian.  

If someone comes into your office with a question on contraception and you print out a copy of Humanae Vitae from a shortcut on your favorites menu....you just might be a theologian.

If you think that God made coffee to prove to us that He loves us and wants to be happy....you might just be a theologian (even if Benjamin Franklin applied it to beer) 

If you have ever been present when a priest in good standing gave a blessing in LATIN to the beer you were about to drink....you just might be a theologian.

If you know what the "Q" document is and why it's a load of crap...you just might be a theologian.

If you can pontificate on the theological truths revealed in "The Gods Must be Crazy" ...you just might be a theologian.  

If your BOOKS have wheels and your computer desk doesn't...you just might be a theologian!

If your parents met on a pilgrimage to the Vatican or the Holy Land....you just might be a theologian.

If your teenagers are going hungry tonight because it's Lent...you just might be a theologian.

If you decorate your house in accordance with the liturgical year....you just might be a theologian.

If your job requires you to wear a dog dish and platter once per year in the spring...you just might be a theologian.  

If you name your sons Matthew, Mark, Luke and John....you just might be a Rad Trad.

If you name your sons Abraham, Jacob, Joseph, and Isaac...you just might be a theologian.

If you name your girls Mary Agnes, Mary Francis, Mary Elizabeth and Mary Grace...you just might be a fan of Flannery O'Connor.

If you name your girls Sarah, Esther, Judith, and Miriam...you just might be a theologian.

If you are in possession of several relics and house them in a proper shrine in your home....you just might be a theologian.

If you know the difference between a Papal Bull, Encyclical, Apostolic Exhortation and General Instruction......you just might be a theologian.

If you have EVER gotten into a discussion on the authorship of John's Gospel and Revelation in a random location with someone you have never met...you just might be a theologian.

If you have a Holy Card Hunt instead of an "Easter Egg Hunt" on the day the Church celebrates the Resurrection of Christ...you just might be a theologian.

If you have your last classroom session on the Feast of the Ascension and your graduation ceremony on a First Friday in June and know why these days are significant to the occasion...you just might be a theologian.

*   *   *

"Theologians"....add your own! 

Troll Roast

I just received this comment on this old post from 2005:

Dirk has left a new comment on your post "Those who fight monsters":

Die in a car fire!!! I love it!

This so retarded! Christians are so retarded! Religion is "ubber" retarded!


Trolls, please take note:

If you have any shred of dignity left in you whatsoever and choose to flame me, please make sure that you don't step in burning turds as you flee in cowardice.

The individal above who apparently mistook my comment field for a litterbox and dropped the above specimen may still be at large and in need of a burn unit as I doubt he lacked the intellectual and probably, spinal, ability to avoid going up in his own flames.

Further, if you ARE going to drop a flaming specimen of your own refuse, I would also recommend having a vocabulary consisting of at least a few more words than the number of fingers on both hands.

Please, Troll, for the love of God, if you're going to insult my intelligence and that of all Christians, make certain you have first removed your cranium from your anal orifice so that you do not end up even more greatly insulting yourself.

P.S. Dirk, you should be advised that the word "Uber" has only 1 "b" in it. I don't expect you get get the umlaut, but four letter words are generally fairly easy to spell, and the improper and unnecessary use of "scare quotes" in your specimen indicate you need to return to grammar school in order to learn the proper use of punctuation and spelling. 


Ah, I love the smell of roasting Trolls on a Wednesday afternoon!