The Fight’s Out There, Folks

Blockade ship hi-res stock photography and images - Alamy

The fight’s out there in the harbor, people–not here in our own barracks.

Which is more important to a civilization–technical know-how, or the liberal arts? (We will set aside the question of which side indulges in the most snobbery.)

Obviously if the technology is allowed to go down the drain, your civilization suffers. It might even go extinct. We see all sorts of bad decisions made by people who don’t understand how things work. Something brings to mind the old joke about if the pilot don’t show up to fly the plane, none of the hoity-toity  passengers is going anywhere. They won’t even get off the ground.

But then what kind of civilization do we have if the liberal arts are allowed to drift into the blahsmos? And there’s only sitcoms left? How much Shakespeare do you have to quote before your car’s battery revives itself? Will your owner’s manual replace the Bible?

I grew up in a neighborhood where a lot of my friends went on to vocational school. (I called it “vo-tech” because that’s what they called it: no disrespect intended.) My friend who became a plumber earned more money than I could ever dream of getting. Because people need plumbers!

But I say we also need philosophers, poets, humorists, story-tellers–oh, my, yes! Story-tellers we need!–historians, theologians, theoretical scientists… just to name a few. There’s a good chance that not a single one of those listed above could fix his air conditioner if it went on the fritz.

That’s why a civilization usually has a division of labor. 

Well, we made a big mistake, years ago, when we decided just about everybody has to go to college. It was never meant for that. My plumber friend got along just fine without it. I am glad I went; but there were at the time more than a few voices in my family raised against it as a waste of time and money. In some ways they were right. But I wouldn’t be me, and I probably wouldn’t be doing this right now, if I hadn’t gone.

We need mutual respect, and not just because it’s right. Out there are armies of Far Left Crazies who wish to destroy our civilization and make themselves our masters.

The liberal arts and the humanities tell us what we are defending, and why.

The technical know-how gives us the means to defend ourselves.

We need both.

‘On This Day Earth Shall Ring’ (‘Personent Hodie’)

(Waddaya mean, posting a Christmas hymn on the second day of March?)

Two reasons. First, this was the first hymn that popped into my head today. And second: I almost totally missed this past Christmas, and I wasn’t all that far from dying. Certainly I had no strength to do up a Christmas tree.

I hope and pray we’ll all be well by the time Christmas rolls around again.

I’d hate to miss another one.

The Return of the Kittens

For years and years I included a critter video in my daily blog. Cats and dogs, chickens, iguanas–all kinds of pets. And I think my readers liked it.

And then came six weeks in the hospital, complete with Chemo Brain. When I came out, my memory was pretty well shot. I’m told that’s temporary, but I’d like to get my memory back, thank you.

See, I know that I’m forgetting stuff and I work my brain to try to get back into The Present. And yesterday–or was it the day before?–voila! That’s what I’ve left out–the good old critter video. So let’s go back to posting those, shall we?

Or would you rather I showed more politicians?

Now I’ve Heard Everything

Skeleton X-Ray - Rocks In His Head Stock Illustration ...

Aha, I knew it! Rocks in the head… all the classic symptoms

Ain’t the university grand? Get a load of this from the U. of San Diego:

Racist Geologic Formations of Subjecthood” (https://www.campusreform.org/article/new-geology-study-explains-rocks-can-help-heal-racism/27520).

What? You think that’s just a lot of gobbledygook? Well, then, try this on for size:

Conceptualizing Black Humanity Through Geopoetic Intimacy and Resistance: Memory Making Blah-blah-blah

Or do either of these two make you want to run out and liquidate your bank account so you can enroll at SDU:

Gender Communication (Come on, that’s too easy). Okay, then, this’ll do ya–Critical Whiteness and [Something–who cares?] Practices.

“Rocks heal racism,”

Go ahead, read the article. I challenge you to explain it. If this isn’t the biggest pile of Wock-wock on the Internet… I’ll throw rocks.

Doctor’s Orders!

Stern doctor hi-res stock photography and images - Alamy

I’m having some trouble getting over that “prostate shaving” procedure, so Patty phoned the doctor yesterday. I was afraid of being hauled back into the hospital for more slice ‘n’ dice, but they only warned me to take it easy for some days, give myself time to heal.

Well, all right! I’ve been ordered not to exert myself.

What about writing, though?

One thing about blogging–it can, and does, take your mind off your physical afflictions. (Well, so does interpretive dance… but who needs that?) This morning I suddenly had enough gas in my guts to inflate the Hindenburg. It has since left me. The point is, I’m in need of relief–and in need of prayer.

Oh, my, look at that! 11:11. One more blog post, I guess. I seem to be running out of gas.

Help, Anyone?

191,600+ Computer Face Stock Photos, Pictures & Royalty-Free ...

“Too tough for you mere humans?”

It’s a cinch that most of you know computers a lot better than I do; so maybe one of you can help us out.

I got an email today from Elder Mike, one of our regular readers whom we hadn’t seen lately. He’s still reading this blog every day, but somehow WordPress won’t post his comments. He’s not the first or only one to have experienced this. I wish I could tell him how to solve this problem, but it’s out of my range. Patty doesn’t know how to fix it, either. First they renamed him “Anonymous,” then they stopped posting his comments altogether.

There must be someone out there who knows the answer. Unknowable? Phoebe? Our readers are smart. Is it WordPress being silly? What must Mike do to solve it? I know there’s a way, but just now it’s locked up in my chemo brain and I don’t have the key.

‘Jesus Paid It All’

I’d never heard this hymn until half an hour ago: Jesus Paid It All, sung by the Altar of Praise Chorale (presented by S.E. Samonte).

I can’t get it out of my head that this is Saturday, not Friday. So I missed Valentine’s Day, too.

It’s Killing My Spirit

Hospital bed - Wikipedia

Lately when I go to bed at night, I dream of being hauled back to the hospital. These dreams are not restful!

And it’s daunting to see how many of our little circle need prayers. Erlene, Phoebe, the Ingrams–all standin’ in the need o’ prayer, as the old song says. (And why am I so into spirituals this morning? Is the Lord trying to tell me something?)

Well, friends and fellow soldiers, you certainly have my prayers, and I know I have yours. I’ve been a patient for three months now and I’m really tired of it. And I still can’t find Ozias, Prince Enthroned. I have the book in longhand on legal pads, so I know I wrote it. But where’s the finished product? Did I somehow manage to lose it, somewhere in the bowels of some omnivorous computer?

We aspire to watching Jason and the Argonauts this afternoon. Some Ray Harryhausen monsters and Bernard Hermann music, with root beer, might have a restorative effect.

Now It’s In My Dreams

Scary looking doctor holding large syringe Stock Photo - Alamy

Last night I woke up in a sweat: I had just dreamed I was being carted off to the hospital again. I didn’t know why, no one told me.

Do I really need this stuff to be invading my slumbers?

All over the world, mean and stupid stuff is still going on, Far Left Crazy has just begun to realize that President Trump is serious about erasing them from the blackboard, and I need something that resembles rest. Dreaming about assorted medical procedures doesn’t qualify. I do not like dreams about my catheter.

No nooze today. Sunshine, cigar, Byron’s TV listings, lunch and a movie–that’s my day. Carefully planned!

So let’s just see.

A Heart in the Sand

Heart On Sand Photos and Images | Shutterstock

We never got around to disposing of our cat’s litter boxes. They’re clean: I cleaned them after she died, because we thought we’d get another cat.. That was our summer. Then I got sick. Couldn’t get a new cat.

Anyway, a day or two ago we noticed something peculiar in the one litter box. It was a perfectly sculpted heart, about the size of an open hand. We don’t know how long it’s been there. Nor how it got there.

I can’t express how deeply we miss our cats. Robbie was the last of them. Our household is disordered, and I have all sorts of medical procedures waiting down the road for me. I can’t keep track of them.

All I know is, somehow a perfectly formed Valentine heart has appeared in our cat’s litter box.