You Don't Want to Alienate Your Friends. . . .

The police all over the United States are under siege. They have a difficult job under the best of circumstances and the circumstances in an upside down political reality have made it nearly impossible. To act results in censure and liability. To not act results in the same. Although I have only been stopped a few times in my life by an officer, I can tell you that the one thing I would never do is mouth off to one, or start waving my arms around or making any kind of sudden movement. It isn't just what I was taught, but it makes absolute common sense. They have no idea of the status of the person they stop, and it only would take one movement for the officer to be dead.

I am sure that I have mentioned, in this blog, a stop that was made of me long ago when I was visiting my old home town, the Bronx. I was driving round and round looking for a parking space on an alternate parking day, which means that people were double parked and there simply was no spot. I was in a rented car in my aunt's neighborhood. I saw the cops parked in their car as I turned and turned, and then suddenly, they stopped me. I had no idea what I had done. As it turns out I made a right on a red, which you can do here in California, but at least then, you could not do in New York. Four officers surrounded my car. They clearly thought I was involved in something beyond a traffic violation. I have always thought that I was a youngish woman in a rented car in a neighborhood that had drug problems. They meant business. Being white and a woman seemed not a privilege, though in those days we weren't using such rhetoric about one another, and was no barrier to their somber approach with hands on their guns. "Do you know what you did?" asked one. "No, Sir." He ultimately told me but only after they checked me out fully. Two officers stayed with me. I stayed still in the car, except to provide, with their permission, the car's bona fides. Neighbors were hanging out their windows. Turned out ok. One of the neighbors asked, "What did you do?" "Turned right on red," I reported. Life went on. But I was shaken. 

I had a few less dramatic stops for traffic things over the years, but never did I get the impression that the officers were any less serious, and I believed they were fully within their rights to protect themselves if I did something sudden and stupid. I always understood. They have to be careful.

Things have gotten much worse in the last 20 years. And seeing video after video of the cursing laced talk backs and push backs and outright resistance on my local and national news, and though not considering police any less human than the rest of us, so capable of both mistake and intentional misconduct, I have found that overall police are worthy of my support. They are policing in urban war zones. They are in combat. So, based on my experience as someone stopped, and based on escalated violence by those stopped, I don't rush to judgment on either side, when there is a police involved shooting. And for the most part, with rare exceptions, and despite political propaganda, I have noticed that their actions are usually righteous under the prevailing circumstances.

So, ultimately, I have considered myself a friend of the police.

However, my personal experience when I have had to call them in an emergency, has not been good, and has made me consider that dreaded thing--that when something happens, I should go the other way, and let someone else make the call.

It has happened about five times. The earliest was when I first moved to Los Angeles. I was looking out my then apartment window when I saw a white Ford Falcon driving away having robbed an elderly woman and leaving her flat in the middle of the street. She wasn't moving. I called 911. It's fine that they ask questions that can reasonably be answered. But after I detailed what I saw and her location, the officer on the line, impatiently asked, "Is she hurt?" "Well, I said, I'm in my apartment, and she is lying in the middle of the street. So, I'd say yes." After my call I went outside to assist. There were a few other neighbors who helped get the lady up. She had a head injury of some kind. We brought her into another neighbor's apartment to wait for the police. When police and fire personnel came, they were in haste, impatient, and unconcerned. The lady, still stunned, was not much help in identifying anything  or anyone. I gave them what information I had. The TV was on. There was some kind of sports game. Both the cops and the fire people seemed more interested in the game than in the woman or the facts. The lady did not think she to go to tneeded to go to the hospital. Of course, they wouldn't take her unless she insisted on going, but she was still groggy and unclear and certainly needed to be looked at as she was bleeding. The other neighbors were long gone. They weren't taking her to the hospital. The police and fire personnel had been neither attentive nor compassionate. And they just left her there. Though I was feeling really nervous about having an injured person in my car, I took the lady to the hospital. I was able to get a name for some family member, whom I called and informed. The lady had multiple stitches. I waited until someone came to be with her.

A few years later. I had these neighbors, husband, wife, and two kids, three ultimately. They screamed about and to each other all the time. But one night, late, when I am in bed, there was an uptick in the screaming, and breaking glass. It didn't quiet. I was concerned that someone was hurt or was being hurt. I called 911. Again, an operator, was already impatient before I said anything. I reported what I was hearing.  "Is there a gun?" I told him where I was. I don't know if there is a gun. How could I know whether there was a gun in the OTHER apartment? Are they expecting me to go and find out? That seems counterintuitive.  I hadn't said that I heard a gunshot. I heard screaming and glass breaking. I understand that officers need some information for their safety and for their approach. But I cannot provide information I don't have AND if there is some threshold beyond screaming and glass breaking that I am required to show, well, then I guess I shouldn't have called at all. They ultimately responded. The family still lived there shouting at one another generally, but there was no repeat of that evening while I was in the neighborhood.

My last experiences have been relatively recent. 

One night as I came downstairs, I don't remember why, to get mail perhaps, there was a distraught woman outside who said she had been attacked. She looked like she had been. Her dress seemed either ripped or disturbed. I called 911. I don't remember my conversation on the phone, but when a cruiser came, and a few other of my neighbors had come outside, the officer seemed, as they always do, indifferent or annoyed at the potential victim. He wasn't being kind to her at all.  I waited so I could offer whatever was needed. The officer asked a question, which I though I could assist with. He said that he wasn't talking to me and suggested strongly I should mind my own business. I thought that odd as the person who had called 911 on behalf of the lady. But I went back into my apartment. Clearly, I was not needed. 

A few months ago, I got a call from a woman I did not know, who said that one of my current neighbors had my name as an emergency contact. I know the neighbor casually, to say hello when he walks his dogs, and to talk about things like the weather, but we have no personal relationship, so it was odd that he would consider me an emergency contact. I realized later that likely as all the tenants come to yearly HOA meetings, that's probably why he had my number. The woman said that he was going out of his mind and seemed to expect me to do something. I recommended that she call 911. Despite myself, I went to see if I could help and when I knocked on his door, he was alone. The friend had apparently gone outside to find someone to assist. I checked with another neighbor usually in the know about things in our building as to whether she had any information. As it happens, 911 had been previously called, and the neighbor had declined assistance. But there was clearly something wrong. He was terribly confused. What he was saying made no sense. I thought he might be having a stroke. I didn't want to bother 911, because they had already been there and left when he said he didn't need help, so I called the local sheriff's office to ask for advice. This operator, a woman, was kind. She said that she would alert the same emergency service that had previously attended. By this time, several neighbors, the woman who had called me, and the confused man were in the vestibule. When the police came, the lead officer announced that if he did not want to go to the hospital, that was that. I understand, up to a point, but the man was clearly not competent to make a basic decision. And, as another neighbor noted, along with me, waiting until either he or someone in the building was harmed seemed crazy. Again, I know that this is largely policy. After all, look at all these shootings where the person says they are going to wreak havoc. The police have the person on radar, but that isn't enough, and then he kills a few people. Only then is action taken. But it was, again, the attitude of the officers that was so deeply disturbing. It wasn't very civil, let alone kind. And in fact the officer said that they couldn't keep coming back and that unless circumstances changed we should not call them again. How I would determine, or my neighbors would determine the appropriate circumstances had been reached, was left undetailed. And why would any of us even involve ourselves again having been so roundly rebuffed?

We got lucky. They talked a little more to the neighbor and he finally agreed to be taken to the hospital.  He was in the hospital for multiple days. We found some responsible people to assist him. There was a problem that needed to be addressed. And got addressed. But with a lot of push back from the authorities we need to protect us.

This past couple of weeks, I was in my parish during Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. This is a sacred period for prayer before what Catholics believe is God Himself in the form of Bread that has been Transsubstantiated.

A man came in, clearly homeless. We welcome all, and so as long as he was respectful, and quiet, there would be no issue. But as happens so often in our parish and elsewhere (which is why Churches are being locked so that people cannot come and pray), he could not be quiet. He was either mentally ill or on some drug or both. He began to drum audibly on the pew with his fingers. I thought hard. People were turning around. I was right across from him. I was the closest. I could just leave and let it be someone else's problem. In light of my experiences before, here recapitulated, I truly considered just taking off. But how could I do that in good conscience? 

So, I took a deep breath and approached the man gently. I hadn't gotten more than two or three words out when he jerked and said, "You're interrupting my prayers!" And let out a few choice words not suitable for a Church let alone anyplace else. 

He got up. He was agitated. I backed away. I went out into the vestibule. At that moment I thought "I don't want to call the cops on this poor guy", but some one needed to be informed. I texted my pastor who said he'd be right there. Meanwhile, another parishioner approached the man who was cursing and walking up and down the aisle. At one point, he looked as if he would be attempting to breach the sanctuary where God is, in our belief. But he didn't. I was concerned now for safety and I called 911. An operator. I explained the situation. A barrage of questions, some of which I could not answer. The man had gone back to the pew and I was looking at him from behind. "What does he look like?" I explained that I was in the vestibule and I was looking at him from behind. I described what I could see. "Is he wearing pants?" I didn't know. I wasn't going to look. The parishioner who had tried to help was arriving in the vestibule. I asked, "Is he wearing pants or shorts?" He was wearing pants. The dispatcher was annoyed. I was getting annoyed. And deeply frustrated.  Meanwhile Father came and made a separate call. I couldn't totally hear the dispatcher at this point, but I did hear him say, without much friendliness, "You can hang up now. I said someone is on the way." Meanwhile the man had quieted. The vestibule had more people staying out of the way. I waited outside the Church with Father. The police didn't come quickly. I can somewhat understand their annoyance because this department was just cut of several officers in favor of civilian "Ambassadors" to defuse such situations. Good luck to them. 

Four officers arrived. They discussed strategy. Two went in. Two stayed at the door. I have to say that the two officers did a remarkable job. At first, just as had happened to me, the man yelled "I'm praying. You're disturbing my prayer," then descending into multiple lines of cursing. He got agitated and walked up and down. The police were patient and diplomatic. It took a while, but the man agreed ultimately to leave. "Mischief managed". 

I have to say that a few years ago, a homeless man did much the same thing in our parish, when I was present. I was asked to call 911.  I was greeted with the precise dismissive attitude that I have received on every occasion where I tried to assist. There is a not so subtle response by the authorities that you are bothering them with something not worth their time. I have heard mentally ill homeless routinely disturb our services. This has become a common occurrence at our church, where the doors are kept open so that people might come in and take spiritual rest from the world. Is the solution yet again to lock doors rather than to address the problem?

I want to repeat that I am sympathetic to the burden under which the police must work. They are not allowed to take action when the red flags fly. And so, why would they want to intervene before deadly behavior has occurred? However, I am a friend, and as Teresa of Avila said to the Lord once, "If this is how you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few of them."

The "You're bothering us" attitude which may come from understandable frustration on the part of the police when you try to say something when you see something (the mantra you see on billboards related to other dangerous acts), is like ringing the bell to Pavlov's dog. After a while, they will have modified the behavior not only of some citizens, but of all of them, such that when mayhem is in fact being done, no one will call to assist another. 

And I want to remain a friend of the police, which is hard when they keep pushing you away. 

A Fly Made Me Cry

Today's title sounds a bit like one you'd see on a Dr. Suess children's book, doesn't it?  I realized later that there was another children's book, from the same time period, which I had, as a child, called A Fly Went By, by Mike McClintock. 

I remember reading it regularly with great contentment every time.  I actually still had my original copy until I gave it away to the family of a new born. I have done that over the years, since I never had a child, alas. 

But this is my Thursday tale. I guess, if I had the talent, I could write my own children's book based on the brief moment in which a fly made me cry. They were not tears of sadness. They were tears of recognition and of joy and gratitude. So. Here's the small story.

I was sitting out on my terrace in the early afternoon. This is the place where I think, I watch hummingbirds, read, work, and pray, not necessarily in that order. Suffice it to say that my terrace is my most used space. 

Oh, yes, I also eat there, today a late breakfast of corn flakes and strawberries. And a fresh cup of pour over coffee. As I finished and placed the not completely empty bowl on my table, a fly began to buz about, not unlike the Fly Above that Went By. My fly, however, did not go by. . .

He seemed to be looking for something. He landed on my hand. The thing about this fly was that it seemed smaller than most and I determined with complete lack of scientific evidence that this was a young fly, even a baby fly. And unlike what happens usually when you move your hand, this fly did not dart away when I did. Yes. I began to talk to the fly. And I know, this is crazy, but the fly seemed to be aware of me. And it was not afraid. It moved from my hand to my shoulder, in a crease of my hoodie. I looked at it. He did not run. I was convinced. The fly is hungry. So. I moved my bowl from the table, with a few pieces of corn flake soaking in almond milk and I placed it nearby on the arm of my Adirondack chair. 

Sure enough. The fly dropped onto the outside of the white dish, following a small trail of milk that had dripped. And then. The fly went to the rim, walked to the top of the spoon in the bowl and used it as a ladder down to the morsels. It seemed completely unconcerned that I was there. And usually I would swat at a fly at that very moment, as one would do at a picnic. But then, I thought, I am finished with my meal; what harm does it do to let this tiny creature over whom I effectively have the power of life and death as a member of creation in the top of the hierarchy to have a safe meal? 

Creation. I have been spending time of late in learning to pray deeply, not in my usual,sporadic, hit and run style. I have been exploring, again (I have done in the past, but then with less intensity) the richness of my Catholic faith and its Transformative essence. Meditating on Creation is a part of it. 

As I watched this fly, I found tears coming to my eyes, not only for the unusual nature of this particular encounter with a tiny insect, but because of the sudden intensity of my sense of creation, His Creation, both of us, this fly and I, Creations of the same God. I want to be clear. It wasn't some New Age, pantheistic sense of the divine in everything that sometimes leads to the idea of man as self-divinizing. That sounds great but it is a mistake, or it's not precise. God isn't in Creation. He is the Author of Creation. He isn't part of it, though it reflects His Glory, and His abounding Love. We can see Him as in a mirror--the complexity and beauty reflects Him. But I am as much made as was the fly in my bowl. I think perhaps that was what St. Francis was saying in His Canticle of the Sun.

Most high, all powerful, all good Lord! All praise is yours, all glory, all honor, and all blessing. To you, alone, Most High, do they belong. No mortal lips are worthy to pronounce your name.

Be praised, my Lord, through all your creatures, especially through my lord Brother Sun, who brings the day; and you give light through him. And he is beautiful and radiant in all his splendor! Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.

Be praised, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars; in the heavens you have made them, precious and beautiful.

Be praised, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air, and clouds and storms, and all the weather, through which you give your creatures sustenance.

Be praised, My Lord, through Sister Water; she is very useful, and humble, and precious, and pure.

Be praised, my Lord, through Brother Fire, through whom you brighten the night. He is beautiful and cheerful, and powerful and strong.

Be praised, my Lord, through our sister Mother Earth, who feeds us and rules us, and produces various fruits with colored flowers and herbs.

Be praised, my Lord, through those who forgive for love of you; through those who endure sickness and trial. Happy those who endure in peace, for by you, Most High, they will be crowned.

Be praised, my Lord, through our Sister Bodily Death, from whose embrace no living person can escape. Woe to those who die in mortal sin! Happy those she finds doing your most holy will. The second death can do no harm to them.

Praise and bless my Lord, and give thanks, and serve him with great humility.

In a way, don't laugh, (though I know exactly who might if they read this!) my experience was of Brother Fly whom we forget is among the necessary pollinators, who cleans up our waste and even has medical uses. He is an indispensable stitch in God's tapestry. The fly, as I am, was formed out of nothing, by an Invisible Hand. That is what makes us brother and sister.

I didn't realize it immediately but my tears were thanking God. His Creation manifests His desire for us to share in HIS Divinity. We don't make ourselves divine. Especially through God made Man we are offered to experience, to partake in, His divinity. But we will always be His creation. We will be His Creation united to Him. And I don't know, the fly that I watched comfortably take pieces of my remnant Corn Flakes, made me cry for the implicit recognition of the Wonders of the Wonderful God that was manifest in the moment. 

Stuff

It has been over two months, not far from three, since I have made any entry onto this blog.

I can tell you why. It's because the state of humanity, never pristine, sees to be at its nadir. There was a time, where, though imperfect indeed, the United States maintained the recognition and pursuit of objective truth and a unified moral imperative that recognized a Power higher than ourselves. One could hope that America would be at the head of a global reawakening. 

That time seems to have passed. Our leaders have led us instead to an earthly pit that is a shadow of the eternity of hell.

The only reason I am not personally, utterly demoralized--and some days it is a close question--is that I do believe in God and all that entails. Nothing and no one will prevail against His Goodness--certainly not his own creatures. And my job is to stand with Him, and stick with Him, no matter what I see around me. I will be asking for the Grace to do that till the moment before I die. It isn't a sure thing that I will exercise my free will any better than anyone else. 

As I write, the news is full of the leak of a draft--partial it appears as not all concurring or dissenting opinions are included-- of a momentous, long awaited decision of the Supreme Court, which, purports to overturn the ill constructed Roe v. Wade by which the Judiciary legislated a Federal right to abortion in 1973. This does not mean, alas, that abortion is no longer legal in the United States. It does affirm states' rights. That is, each state has a right to make its legislation (or maintain that which it has) in this arena. So, California and New York, for example, will be able happily to continue sacrificing children at the altar of abortion. Nonethless, the pro-abortion advocates are wailing and bemoaning, and seem to have come out in such numbers so quickly that it suggests they knew of the impending leak before it actually dripped on the rest of us.  Protests are being scheduled for today. The idea that many many many women, including me, do NOT support abortion never occurs to them. And if those folks do any protesting, they are targeted for interfering in a woman's rights. The heck with the babies' rights. As to that leak, does it concern anyone that its occurrence is another fissure in the deconstruction of the United States? Some unelected person, some kid, probably as the staff is no doubt predominately young, decided to take an action calculated to throw the independent decision making of the Highest Court in the land into question. Supposedly the Chief Justice, having just confirmed that yes, this was a real draft, is seeking an investigation. Well, we'll see if there is any actual consequence to that person or persons, if uncovered, or revealed, when uncovered.

That's the thing about man made as opposed to natural law or God based rules--when men make the rules they are applied variously. If one group riots, but its narrative is the one held by those in power, they are considered to be exercising their rights. If another does anything remotely close to that, but their narrative is unapproved, they are considered dangerous extremists. When David Daleiden did an series of undercover reports showing that abortion is an industry of profound and bloody commercialism, he was, and continues to be prosecuted for RICO crimes and is said not to have a journalist's rights. He's not exposing a Watergate and therefore beloved for his bravery. He's attacking a sacred industry of eradicating our young called "womens' rights". Here, note, everyone can define the nature of a woman, something our newest Justice of the Court, cannot. 

Then there is the War in Ukraine. I feel such sadness for the people who have been victimized by the dictator of Russia. However, when I see Nancy Pelosi, Adam Schiff and some others of the Democrat party say they will support the Ukraine until "Victory is Won", as much as I would want to help the poor souls of the Ukraine, I find myself VERY suspicious, given all the surrounding machinations of prior years by other Democrats, and family members. Has War against Russia been declared? Did I miss something? I'd like to believe that it is some grand principle that is motivating all this talk. But let me just say, I do not. The opportunism is transparent. And alas, who suffers, the dying people of the Ukraine. 

Then there is our leader. Notwithstanding the fact that from the day he ran from office, he was obviously impaired, common sense is not allowed to shout, "The Emperor has dementia!" He was purportedly elected, but he is clearly not the one running the country.

Americans are being led by an anonymous (though we could take bets on who they are) group of unelected individuals. As used to be said by one of the characters, a lawyer, in Ally McBeal--"I need a moment". Do you not see the imminent danger in this reality?

And you know when I knew that we were at the lowest point? It was at that sad moment a month or two ago, when Barack Obama made a triumphant public appearance at the White House, "jokingly" calling Mr. Biden along with Kamala Harris his "vice president(s)" and leaving the confused old man wandering amid the crowd with not one staff person, not one person period, talking to him. When the fragile and vacant Joe pitifully put his hand on Mr. Obama's shoulder, with everyone pretending they didn't notice, Obama did not even turn around or drop the wide smile being directed at one of his acolytes. You or I would at least have looked to see who it was. He knew who it was. And we would have said, "Be right with you" or something instead of a complete and utter disregard of the putative President of the United States. 

Only prayer and the Will of God in response to it may change it, but my sense at that moment was of the punctuation of the death of the United States. 

I try to keep informed. But I don't trust anything I hear from my leaders.Or the mainstream press. I never thought I would experience that in the United States. 

 

Thanksgiving by Constantine Gochis

 

So. Back to Dad stories. Well, at least this one. I am always amazed at how cynical Dad was. I don't know why exactly, because I was exposed to his disposition of it for 50 years of my life. I think perhaps it is a matter of incongruity because he rather surprised me by converting to Catholicism at age 85. This suggests a faith in Providence a story like this would gainsay. On the other hand, as a practicing Catholic myself, I understand the cynicism. It's hard to avoid with the abundance of insanity thrust upon us fragile humans by other humans who think they are invulnerable to death and the consequence of hell. Cognitive dissonance is a regular experience in modern times. 

I cannot say that I recall a particularly memorable Thanksgiving.

True, I have attended my share of these events and hosted many. If I must expand about these, some were worthy of a Roman banquet and others dull to disastrous at best.

Perhaps I misunderstand the theme proposed by our mentor for this week's writing exercise. I do not think it called for a recapitulation of exciting table talk. I thought, peraps, there may have been an inference that the spirit of the holiday called for some reflection on a meaning other than the pleasures of gatronomy.

"Like what?" as Woody Allen is likely to say i one of his film monologues.

"Well," as he might reply, "Like an expression of gratitude received, a sense of some metaphysical interposition in our lives to interrupt the ordinary banality of every day living."

"Like the non-intervening God of your movie, 'Crimes and Misdemeanors?"

"O.K. so He don't go to Thanksgiving parties. Maybe he prefers the aroma of roasting lamb instead, certainly more material than the unintelligible mumblings of sated party goers."

I would then ask, "Who's to thank?"  Maybe the friendly Indians who supplied the Plymouth colonists with a spate of turkeys, thereby establishing our national predilection for this friendly but unwary bird as a meat course for this fete?

It would have been fun to discuss this matter further with Woody, but I could not conjure his presence for more dialogue.  I bethought myself of my street bum friend Diogenes who was sure to accost me soon for his regular periodic stipend of spare change.  I expect he was about due to find himelf, by pure chance, in the environs of my apartment.  IT is suspeiciously coincidental that he times his appearances to when I am returning from a shopping tour with bulging plastic bags. I am prone to give him some items from the largesse.

His expected appearance, as I predicted, was consonant with my needs for some counsel on the subject of Thabnksgiving.  I must note here that Diogenes is a man of surprising erudition. He was not, in fact, always a bum. Rather, he occupied the apogee of economic success and was suddenly hurled into the depths of bum hood by love.

At this point, some description of Diogenes is called for: He has a full head of disoriented graying hair, and a full, similarly untended beard.  He carries a long staff that was once the handle of a push-broom. If I were recasting for the remake of the film, "The Ten Commandments" he would be my Moses--though he has more the tragic quality of John the Baptist.

For those of you who eschew Biblical references, his severed head, I mean John the Baptist, was an expression of gratitude to Salome for her celebrated dance and more pertinently, her later rendezvous with a grateful Herod.

Without further exploration of meaning, let us say that her gratitude was better than turkey.

Diogenes was expressing great interest in the contents of my shopping bags.

"Maybe you got something I could eat raw?" he questioned.

I gave him several ears of corn. He eats corn raw and is known to eat raw potatoes.

"Diogenes," I said, without preamble, "have you had any memorable Thanksgiving holidays?"

"One," he answered without hesitation. "It was the year my wife Seraphina abandoned me as we were on a cruise on the Mediterranean.  She fell in love with poetry and a poetess."

"Seriously, Diogenes," I offered, "Aren't you scheduled for one of those spectacular full course meals at a homeless center, you know for one dollar and fifty seven cents. I bought ten of these for bums like you I don't even know."

"You might have deposited the one dollar and fifty seven cents to a more worthy cause, like me." Diogenes opined.

"I generally avoid those festivals unless times are particularly hard.  The food isn't bad, but usually some guy preaches at ou about salvation and you are reminded there is an obligation to thank someone for the meal.  This causes me much mental distress and a bout with dyspepsia." 

"Do you not think that the colonists in Plymouth gave thanks for their bounty to a higher being?" I asked.

"I thought, " Diogenes responded,  "this might be true when I attended a parochial elementary school.  When I hit the publi ones, the teachers suggested this was a lot of mythology propounded by the gun lobby, and those who wanted to destroy the separation of Church and State.  If I am not mistaken, I think they included the tobacco executives and Republicans."

"By the way," he added, "would you have a spare cigarette and another quarter, for which I will bestow everlasting gratitude upon you, in the best tradition of the season."

I felt this was a modest request.  When I confer with Diogenes, it is a learning experience. In addition to the wisdom he exudes, he is imbued with a huge store of "chutzpah".

"Listen," he said as he departed. "It's all political.  Republian Presidents name a date and the Democrats filibuster. It's all a question of what is or not.  For the less contentious like me, it is best to be less confrontational about matters that have no visible effect one way or the other. If you have to--look upward as if in devotion and take on your most pious expression.  Every guy who donates one dollar and fifty cents, once a year, expects some visible proof of gratitude.

As he departed, I had to reconsider casting him as Moses or John the Baptist. Perhaps the role of Mephistopheles or Faust would be more appropriate--after he was cleaned up and combed, of course.

How sad. Is this all there is? Well, in the meantime, there's a good dinner in the offing. I shall be a guest in sumptious surroundings.  I will bring a bottle of wine I prefer. It's best to be prepared since if there is a Providence that guides these things, it makes only occasional appearances, and these can be attributed to mathematical chance--lousy odds but its the best we got.

It is the Season to Be Merry by Constantine Gochis

 I am home, indefinitely, as the crie du jour goes into the land once again, "Be Afraid, be very Afraid!" and no one seems able to avoid someone positive for Covid. A friend I saw last week was/is positive. I am, alas, a woefully fearful human being who knows in the depth of her being that the last two years have been an orchestrated use of an opportunity in the form of one of the many viruses and dangers that exist around us. Still, overwhelming fear means she cannot take the smallest chance that she might be responsible for the possibility that someone she has come into contact with is felled. Clearly whether one is vaccinated or not is irrelevant to the need to take basically the same scrupulous steps to prevent either sickness or death. This is particularly distressing in that sickness and death are inevitable no matter that in this one instance it MIGHT be held off. It may well come to the mind of one of our saavy politicians that, in fact, except for them in the pursuit of their duties and of course, the exceptions for their recreational needs, the rest of us should never be in contact with another human being because we are, walking germ sticks and are always likely to harm another. 

Be that as it may, I am here and I have plenty of time to add Dad's stories and observations. This was written circa 2001, after the murders at the World Trade Center. As you know, in more recent, enlightened years, we were told by a Congresswoman who was about 8 at the time the destruction happened, that "some people did something." Politifact said her comments had to be taken in context. I read the context. The description of the event is not changed by the context, in my opinion, if my opinion be allowed, as may not be the case. If my father is able to hear me, or even care in that he has met God and that trumps all earthly concerns, I think he would tell me that he is glad that he is dead, and reserves compassion for me, his daughter, who is living through the hell on earth courtesy of the diabolical leaders and their minions of the mass media and the universities.

The observations were written, apparently, around Christmas, 2001, because the title of the piece is "It is the Season to Be Merry".

Andy Rooney, of the CBS Magazine Show, Sixty Minutes, has read the Koran.I suspect he digested this monumental work in less than sixty minutes. Andy is a quick study.

He read his dissertation on that tome, and interpreted the liturgies of the West in less than five minutes.  I do not wish to critique his theology.  Suffice it to say that I suspect Rooney is another disenchanted Catholic who was kicked in the ass by a nun or an exasperated brother in an elementary school.  Probably with justification.

The content of the program featured two turncoats. The first was an FBI double agent whose twenty years of spying for the Soviets amounted to calumny and deceit beyond the metaphysical boundaries of Hell:  Death, sexual perversion, treason, among his lesser transgressions, which were legion.

The other, Senator Jeffors, who has achieved historical immortality by deceiving his supporters who elected him to his representative status, as well as the country, by an example of political chicanery unparalleled in two centuries. This pebble in a field of boulders gave leadership of the Senate to the political party whose obsession is oriented to the capture of Congress, even if it means damage to the defense of the country and the destruction of the economy as an added bonus.

His change of allegiance has brought the reign of senatorial leadership in the incarantion of Senator Daschle. This sombre, unsmiling postulant for hte Presidency, has hugged the current President in public and has then unleashed the dagger of obstruction in a campaign of calumny.  His acolytes fill the media with obsequious eulogies for George W, tempered by lies and deceitful allusions.  There is always the popular vote the Supreme Court intervention. The Supreme Court is only valid to the cultist Democrats when it refers to Roe v. Wade. 

The call has gone out to the faithful, "We need a new Gingrich!" The odds on favorite is Ashcroft, a prime choice for demonization, but he holds an eighty percent popularity rating among the unwashed.

Still, it is a dangerous war and surely Bush will stumble, and the economy will go bad and the mantra can be revitalized, "It's the economy stupid." It served to disestablish the father.  And will surely do in the son.  This is their hope for 2002 and 2004. 

Ask David Corn. Who is David Corn? He is the editor of The Nation.  The LA Times published his analysis of the Bush War effort in its opinion section.

"We are killing civilians in Afghanistan," is the substance of a full page of calumny.

There is no mention of the three thousand collaterals buried under the World Trade Center.

And the others of this species who have scurried into the dark in the illumination of the tragedy of September 11 venture out again.  The liberal strategists, cloaked in the texts of the Constitution, spew their venom against a country that gives them freedom.  They miss the hey day of the Alger Hiss apogee, the party faithful who took their orders from Moscow.

There are as many enemies within as without.

At the very least we dishonor our dead of World War II, the several hundred killed in our wars against the Soviets, and those who will surely pass as a sacrifice to the corrupted God that Andy Rooney has so quickly digested. 

Rising "Above" My Principles

 I haven't been making entries onto this site since late December 2021. I guess I just kept hoping that the inconsistent insanities of Covid "policies" would end soon, even though I knew intellectually that such a lovely opportunity for societal deconstruction is not easily relingquished by those who are doing the deconstruction. 

As before, in some states the national milieu went back to normal. But here in California it took until about last week to lift some of the mandates. Of course, in the County of Los Angeles, a large area in which I happen to live, the emergency remains red hot. No way that a virus can cross county boundaries, correct?

I have, as I have endlessly said, tried to avoid entertainment venues in which I would have to wear a mask or show a vaccination card, though as I must always disclaim so that I am not disregarded even more readily than I will be anyway, I was thrice blessed with the anti-virus potion that well, doesn't has it happens protect as was advertised. I have conceded in obligatory environs, like my Church, but for the most part I was not participating in what to me had become an arbitrary and capricious soft totalitarian warm up to hard totalitarianism.

But I am a small creature, alas, and as the New Year arrived and friends wanted to get together for ordinary human celebrations like birthdays and the odd entertainment movie event, I found my resolve crumbling and making exceptions, willing to go and to wear a mask, and worse, willing to show my vax card and ID to demonstrate that I am clean enough, virally speaking, to be allowed inside a restaurant, while other humans relegated to the status of  lepers, were excluded. Worse, I enjoyed myself.

You might say, what does it matter? What's the big deal? The big deal is that the slippery slope is real. Take a look at Canada. 

Human beings incline toward all sorts of evil, but one version is that they like to exert power over one another. And if one does not take the threat of these prefatory efforts at control--disguised as a matter of good and protection--seriously and takes the position what does it matter to me, history shows that how much it matters becomes very apparent, in short order, and when it is too late. 

I keep hoping that this Covid incarceration will end and I won't feel compelled to write about it any longer. On the other hand, today it is Covid, tomorrow there will be another crisis that aspiring dictators will find useful for their consolidations of power, and you and 
I will be footnotes in history. And we will bear responsibility for sheepish failures which led to our very demise. 

Spreading Fear for Our Good

I have found it curious that the new variant of the Covid virus, known as Omicron, which has mostly symptoms of the common cold, has been shouted from the treetops of our leadership as almost worse than the original version from nearly two years ago and its progeny, the Delta. The fear frenzy has returned. Curious. But rather expected. Things were calming down. Christmas was coming, when people want to and need to be close to one another. It is also when Christians celebrate a major religious holiday. And then, Voila! 

Pandemic redux! Test! Stay away! Watch out! Danger! 

Testing sites have sprung up again. All over the news, and within days, we have heard more and more people being found "positive" which could mean anything from someone on a ventilator to a sniffle. The numbers are ambiguous. A distinction is never, or rarely, made. Well, that's not new, they were ambiguous before. We could be told anything and we have no way to verify the truth of it. Well, was it the New Zealand Prime Minister who said it, along the lines of "Don't believe anything except what the Government tells you." 

I have been vaccinated up the wazoo. I see arguably vulnerable people in elder homes. I'm over 65. And I have had other vaccinations without a sense of concern. So, I have made the personal, medical decision to be vaccinated.

But as to this nearly two year circus I also believe that we have been the victims of a biological attack from a foreign country which we are not allowed to name; that vaccination is not the cure all; that the existence of this virus suits our current leadership in Washington some if not many of whose members may well have been complicit in the creation and spread of that virus attack; you take something "real" but "orchestrated" where people can and do die and you terrify the rest of the population who falls, mostly, into lockstep for the goal of a safety that can never be achieved. You take control and the citizenry has no choice but to take the trip over the cliff. Why? Because we have become so afraid, not necessarily for ourselves, but for others, just in case there might be something to the lie. We have been successfully gaslighted. Propagandized. Your care for others becomes the way to your very demise and that of your society.

I have my personal example. I go out fairly rarely, as I have said in other entries. In the week before Christmas, I did two things outside of my usual realm that brought me in contact, wait for it, "with people" purely for social pleasure. One of those people told me that he/she had tested positive for Covid. 

I hadn't been ANYWHERE since Sunday the 19th, and that was only to Mass where I serve away from the pews, in the sanctuary. On Wednesday the 22nd, I was informed that I was exposed to someone who was positive.  My first thought was not to panic and not immediately get tested. I felt fine. It was unlikely that I had a problem.

Then. I thought about the others. "What if I feel fine but I am more the walking germ stick than usual any human being is?" "What if someone gets sick that I happened to pass by on Sunday?" By nature, I suffer from a version of OCD, where I ruminate and create all sorts of catastrophic scenarios. Now my society has been generous enough to prove that worrying about virtually everything is the proper way to go. So, immediately I went out and got tested.

I was negative. Yea! Seventy five dollars well spent, right?  Folks said to me that well, by the 7th day you should be all right to go out because you are vaccinated and just need to be sure to wear the mask inside (which you must do anyway). I technically was at the seventh day on Friday, Christmas Eve, the 24th. But when you read the various suggestions for the unvaccinated and vaccinated and the time for quarantine, to me, it gets inconsistent and without certainty.  It's safe after seven days? But what about the MANY breakthrough cases? I'll get a test a few days hence. But still, there is no certainty of the safety mantra whatever I do. The other I have always been concerned about still is out there, and though I heartily believe we have all been had, my psyche cannot take the chance. I am too afraid. I am not among the many other braver Americans (in my view) who have decided to ignore the fear and fly and drive all over the country despite the confounding pronouncements from what my dad used to call the "Dome" in Washington. 

But for fearful me, Christmas became moot, in secular and religious terms. I had another word to offer other than "moot" but I felt it improper to say it in light of whom we celebrate at Christmas. You know what else it means to me, until this is over, and I realize that it may never be until full global domination is achieved for our good? I am not going to be with any people. I can't live with showing my papers and wearing a mask, which makes me feel like a straightjacketed inmate in a mental institution, aside from the fact I just cannot breathe with one (I know, it's an inconvenience I am told over and over despite my lying eyes and senses). And at the same time I cannot take even the infinitesimal chance that if something happens I would be considered the cause or worse, be the cause. So I have to choose my kind of imprisonment. My apartment. My terrace.  My own lack of bravery. It isn't a perfect isolation because there are a few things I have to do. But I will not do anything I DO NOT have to except out of pure human charity or obligation. 

I didn't feel sick before my friend sent me her news. I felt sick after testing negative.  A full on existential sickness. And it's affecting me physically and psychologically. And I bet I am not alone. And it's all been deliberate. We are being taken over by a full on totalitarian someone. I don't know who per se. But I know that the one thing they don't care about is your health or safety and in particular, your freedom. 

Here's some news. As of December 29, the CDC has announced that the quarantine period can be cut to five days for the UNVACCINATED as well as the VACCINATED as follows:

.... CDC is updating the recommended quarantine period for anyone in the general public who is exposed to COVID-19. For people who are unvaccinated or are more than six months out from their second mRNA dose (or more than 2 months after the J&J vaccine) and not yet boosted, CDC now recommends quarantine for 5 days followed by strict mask use for an additional 5 days. Alternatively, if a 5-day quarantine is not feasible, it is imperative that an exposed person wear a well-fitting mask at all times when around others for 10 days after exposure. Individuals who have received their booster shot do not need to quarantine following an exposure, but should wear a mask for 10 days after the exposure.  For all those exposed, best practice would also include a test for SARS-CoV-2 at day 5 after exposure. If symptoms occur, individuals should immediately quarantine until a negative test confirms symptoms are not attributable to COVID-19.

The "science" tells them so, they lie. But it is really the fact that people are calling in sick for their jobs and not coming back for 10 plus days, and that is wreaking havoc with employers (like that wasn't predictable two years ago). The language I have heard to justify the change is that it is also about what "Americans can tolerate." But note that as a vaccinated person I have as much or as little freedom as an unvaccinated person. 

And now, Dr. You Know Who is test flying the possibility of a FOURTH vaccination. 

Tell me again how all this is for our good. Or even marginally makes sense.