Author Archives: leeduigon

About leeduigon

I have lived in Metuchen, NJ, all my life. I have been married to my wife Patricia since 1977. I am a former newspaper editor and reporter. I was also the owner-operator of my own small business for several years. I wrote various novels and short stories published during 1980s and 1990s. I am a long-time student of judo and Japanese swordsmanship (kenjutsu). I also play chess, basketball, and military and sports simulations.

Oh, Boy! How to Politicize Your Thanksgiving!

You want to see pathetic? This is pathetic.

Sure, gratitude has no part in the liberal Democrat psyche, so we can’t expect a Thanksgiving holiday to have much meaning for them. But this is going pretty far, even for them.

The Democrat National Committee has set up a website ( ) to provide party members and other comrades with pithy put-downs to confound “Your Republican Uncle” or any other family member too wicked or obtuse to appreciate the wisdom of leftism. To quote the introduction:

“The holiday season is filled with food, traveling, and lively discussions with Republican relatives about politics sometimes laced with statements that are just not true–” apparently only Republicans do this, never Democrats. “Here are the most common myths spouted by your family members who spend too much time listening to Rush Limbaugh and the perfect response to each of them.

I’ll bet these people could just kiss themselves all over.

All right, let’s look at the perfect response to the vile conservative canard that Man-Made Climate Change is nothing but a scare tactic. Are you ready for this? You sure? Deep breath…

Presto! We are informed, “97% of scientists” believe in Global Warming! Wow, I feel utterly confounded.

Oh! Was that 97% of all scientists, or 97% of the scientists you chose to ask, or 97% of the scientists whose answers you chose to accept, or what?

How about the perfect response to Donald Trump?

Guess what–Donald Trump’s a racist! Gee, I never saw that coming, did you?

And, lest I spoil your Thanksgiving dinner, I will conclude this post right here and go outside into this gorgeous fall day and smoke a cigar.

See you tomorrow afternoon, folks–if I can manage it. Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Stick With Me, Please

I’ve been distracted, lately (to put it mildly), by one of those unavoidable tribulations of life.

Without getting too much into private details, I’ve had to have my last surviving aunt transferred to a nursing home. This is something we prayed would never happen, but now it has.

She is the last of my family in her generation. When she goes, I’ll be the oldest one left–and who ever thinks he’s going to be that?

My mother had five sisters, so I was richly blessed with aunts. Two married, one became a nun, and three stayed together at their father’s house, where they were born. One by one they died. The house had to be sold. It has since been torn down. My aunt received the best care available for as long as possible. But now it’s no longer possible to take care of her outside of a nursing home.

We could not live without God’s grace. But then without God’s grace we never would have been created in the first place.

Normalcy is a good thing. Writing is the work I asked the Lord to give me to do, and He granted my prayer. So I will do it, to the best of my ability, every day if possible, for as long as I can.

God goes with us into the Valley of the Shadow. And one way or another, He will bring us out of it, and into the light.

Readers, please bear with me: normal service will soon be restored. If the next few posts aren’t up to snuff, don’t go away–there’s plenty in the Archives.

Again, ‘What a Friend We Have in Jesus’

I don’t know about you, but I could use a hymn right about now. This hymn, in fact.

I have family things going on that I haven’t been able to write about yet. Maybe tomorrow. Things happen. Nothing that anyone can help, or avoid.

So now, now, take it to the Lord in prayer.

Clown on Campus Creeps Out Coeds

What are we to make of this story?

Female students at Carroll University in Waukesha, Wisconsin, are nervous about a guy who prowls the streets at night in a clown mask and a bright orange jumpsuit ( ).

Police say they know who it is–a “developmentally delayed” teenage boy. It would appear there is no law against prowling around at night in a clown costume, even if it’s making everybody edgy.

What if the cops are wrong about who it is? Does anyone know where Joe Biden is, lately?

Or have they just launched a new Clown Studies undergraduate degree program?

Seems the only kind of stories coming out of colleges, these days, are clown stories.

Gotta Re-visit ‘Tristram Shandy’!

That catchy tune in the video, to which the redcoats marched in Stanley Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon, is an old Irish melody called Lillibulero. First published in 1661, Lillibulero gained a kind of immortality thanks to author and  clergyman, and proto-Abolitionist, Laurence Sterne.

In his utterly wild and wacky novel, The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman, whenever things get confusing, which is most of the time, two of his characters, Uncle Toby and Corporal Trim, have a habit of whistling Lillibulero.

I had to read this book in college. I enjoyed it, but I was young then and I strongly suspect I would enjoy it even more if I read it now. Maybe I will get a copy of it for Christmas. I’m just dying to read it again. It was first published in 1759, but don’t let that throw you. This book is just plain funny!

All those years, though, I had no idea what Lillibulero sounded like. I realize now that I must have heard that melody dozens of times without knowing it was Lillibulero.

And here’s something else that’s funny. My wife found me listening to the tune on the computer, and asked me what it was. She has never read Tristram Shandy, and so never heard of Lillibulero.

And then, just before bedtime, she was leafing through a Daphne DuMaurier story when a reference to Lillibulero jumped out at her. “That’s twice tonight!” she said. “You know what? That’s weird!”

It’s with real pleasure that I look back on those ineffectual, benign, and profoundly harmless characters, Uncle Toby and his faithful batman, Corporal Trim–not to mention Tristram’s hopeless and constantly losing battle to organize the story of his life.

Yes, I’ve got to get back to Shandy Hall. But in the meantime, at least I can now whistle Lillibulero.

How to Ride a Bike with No Hands

The video makes it look pretty easy, doesn’t it? Like, maybe you could do some crocheting while you’re riding you bike.

So don’t take this guy too seriously. I suspect he’s showing off.

Here are a few tips from moi, just to get you started.

First, get a bike. Get used to riding it with both hands on the handlebars.

Next, practice riding with just one hand on the bars, alternating right and left.

Now you are ready to take both hands off the handlebars for just a few seconds, just an inch or two off the bars so you can grab ’em again quickly if you start to wobble. You will wobble till you get the hang of it.

That’s all for now. The next lesson will take you some steps farther. In the meantime, see how you do with your hands just a teensy-weensy bit off the bars for a few seconds.

Important Extra Tip: Wind, rain, and traffic are not helpful.

The Agony of Reading Books by the Wrong Color People

Every time you think America’s university system has hit bottom, it lurches down another notch. You’re gonna just love this story from Columbia University–under Herbert Marcuse in the 1960s, one of the original hatcheries of American Stalinism.

Here a quivering tulip of a student, “in her fifth year of undergraduate studies” (remember when it only took four years?), claims to have suffered “trauma” and “anguish” over having to read books written by white men ( ).

Oh, the suffering! And the university officials can’t do anything with her because they’re the ones who filled her head with all this glop in the first place. They can’t disavow the ideology of victimhood that they taught her.

The student is black, and female. Therefore she should only have to read books written by black females. For any other kind of book to appear before her eyes would be “microaggression” and “oppression.”

As it is, the poor creature expects she’ll have to put in a sixth year just to get her bachelor’s degree.

Oh, no! They call it a “bachelor’s degree!” Quick, somebody call 911, we have to report an incident of microaggression. “Bachelor” is a sexist word, injurious and hurtful and mean to all female students enrolled in colleges throughout the land.

Real racism having been solved, inasmuch as flawed human beings living in a fallen world can solve it, what remains is imaginary racism. The great thing about imaginary problems is that they remain in perpetuity, they can never be solved because they don’t exist.

And have you noticed? Progressives and their followers have re-invented Jim Crow.

In their quest for freedom, they have subjected themselves to slavery.

Way to go.

Can I Get 3,000 Hits This Month?

Here’s Honus Wagner, who got his 3,000 hits the hard way. I wonder what he was thinking, when they snapped this picture.

After two months in a row with 3,000 hits on this blog, it wasn’t looking good for November. Like, where did everybody go? And who’s going to visit here on Thanksgiving?

But thanks to a huge shot in the arm on Friday, I can make it if I can get about 100 views a day for the next eight days. This is coming close enough so that it’ll sting if I miss.

Can I make it? I will try to provide you with interesting reading over those eight days. I’ll even provide advice for riding a bike without using your hands.

Three months in a row with 3,000–hey, that would be really sweet.

The ‘Stone Age Tribe’ That Wasn’t

Dear Worldly Wisdom–Here we are in our cave, exactly where you expect to find us. Not only do we not have words for “war” or “conflict in our primitive, unspoiled Stone Age language. We also have no word for “sucker.” (signed) Your friends, The Gentle Tasaday

In 1971, Science and the nooze media went into ecstasy over the discovery, in the Philippines, of a “Stone Age” tribe that had apparently been totally isolated from the rest of humanity for over a thousand years ( ).

I remember that, I saw the documentaries: “the gentle Tasaday,” who didn’t have words in their language for war or fighting or conflict, totally unspoiled, front-page news for National Geographic and PBS–proof positive that Rousseau was right about The Noble Savage. Yep, that Fall of Man stuff is for the birds, Christians just invented it to be mean. In reality, man is basically good and pure and noble, and it’s only that stinkin’ Western civilization that corrupts him and turns him into a villain.

Ah, the settled science of those days!

And then in 1986 the Tasaday were denounced as a hoax–just a bunch of Mindanao villagers posing as a Stone Age tribe.

Well, really: from the Tasaday caves to the nearest modern village was only a couple of miles. How isolated could they have been?

Filipino politics is an intimate part of this story, so the controversy goes on to this day. It’s possible the Tasaday had been living in that sector of the jungle for a century or more, having fled their original home. But it is not possible that they’d been there for a thousand years and turned into hippies who wore leaves instead of tie-dyed T-shirts.

The Tasaday population today is reported at 200 or so. It doesn’t seem the gene pool would be large enough to carry them through a thousand years.

You know something? Whenever Science and the nooze media get together on a story, it’s just about gotta be humbug.

Yea, let God be true, but every man a liar… (Romans 3:4)

Hymn, ‘Am I a Soldier of the Cross’

Hard times are here for Christians, and harder times are coming. We’ll need courage to get through them. We’ll need faith.

But greater is He that is in us than he that is in the world. God loved the world, and sent His Son to save it. We belong to Him, and He will not lose us.

This is an ancient hymn, with lyrics by Isaac Watts. Listen to this hymn: listen to the words, and don’t be daunted by the video.

Those stones mark victory.


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