Introducing Our New Toilet

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I’ve still got a toothache, the dentist can’t see me till Thursday, and right now the plumber is here, about to install our new toilet. The old one has been sent on to the Smithsonian Institution as one of the few surviving examples of Babylonian  bathroom fixtures.

The new toilet is sitting in its box on the sidewalk, waiting to be carried up the stairs. I could not help laughing sardonically at the legend on the box: “Simple, Do-It-Yourself Installation, No Tools Necessary.” Like you could just set it on the floor and take a dump.

I am no one’s idea of a handyman, but even I know you do need tools to install a toilet properly. Why do manufacturers even say things like “No Tools Necessary”? It reminds me of the video cabinet we got some years ago. The instructions were in pseudo-English, making no sense whatsoever, and the “tool” provided–which, according to the claim on the carton, was the only tool you’d need to put the thing together–was this tiny little metal L-shaped thing. Twelve hours later, with my friend’s full complement of power tools, we finally had something that would stand up. That is, it stood like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, except it could lean first one way and then another.

I hope the new toilet turns out better than that.

Where is the Reset Button?

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I woke up this morning with a toothache, my heel spur is killing me, and I’m stuck here waiting for a plumber to fix my toilet, which yesterday started leaking from the bottom.

I need to re-start this whole week. If it’s this bad by Monday morning, what’s it gonna be like by Friday?

Comment on the news: Does Pope Francis honestly expect the assorted dictators, assassins, Muslims, communists, and crony capitalists who run the nations of the world to redistribute wealth, rescue the poor, and create “equality”? And they call me a fantasy writer!

I certainly wouldn’t trust Obama, Pelosi, and Reid to do it, or McCain, Ryan, and Boehner–and that’s in my own country. Much less would I want to farm the job out to the varmints who govern places like North Korea, Zimbabwe, China, and so on.

What is wrong with the pope, that such a crackbrained notion would even enter his head?

The boys in the Vatican had better watch him very closely, or he’ll wind up buying the Brooklyn Bridge.

A Bone to Pick with the Mummy

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Not that this is a burning issue; but then I’d rather not get involved with burning issues on the Lord’s Day.

No–this concerns mummy movies. Not the newfangled ones with computer-generated cheesy effects, body builders, and whatnot. I love the old mummy movies, in black and white, from the 1940s. The original, starring Boris Karloff as The Mummy, from 1932, is a classic work of cinematic art. The sequels are, well, mummy movies. I make no apology for liking them. The ones with Lon Chaney Jr.,  The Mummy’s Hand, The Mummy’s Tomb, The Mummy’s Ghost (even though there’s no ghost in it)–a wonderful addition to our culture.

Nevertheless, there is one thing about all these mummy movies (except the first one) that kind of bugs me.

How do people ever manage to get themselves caught by the Mummy?

I mean, the Mummy’s not exactly Carl Lewis, is he? He shuffles, wobbles a bit, and is so, so sloooooow. If you sent him to the corner store for groceries, you’d starve before he ever got back.

In addition to being slow, he is also clumsy and awkward. He never has full use of his left arm, so he shuffles toward you with his right arm extended so as to strangle you with one hand. And no one ever gets away! You’d think someone would eventually get the idea to take a sword or something and chop off the one arm the Mummy can use. What could an armless mummy do to you?

But no–a mummy victim never has a chance. Most of the victims just raise their hands, even though the Mummy has not said “Stick ’em up,” and back up into the wall, or fall down, and just get strangled. Like, why not, uh, run away? Even Chris Christie could ran away from the Mummy. The few victims who do try to run away, always make a beeline for the nearest blind alley, from which there is no escape.

Again, it’s not a burning issue. It’s just a little thing that bothers me, as Columbo would say.

Ah! For the day when I can settle back and watch Columbo vs. the Mummy…

 

Grace vs. Good Works: A Primer

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Someone said to me yesterday, “I have a real problem with the doctrine of predestination. It doesn’t seem fair!”

Not that I’m a big man in the theology shop, but I think I do understand that “predestination” is just another way to say that our salvation is up to God, not us. And that’s a good thing, I explained.

“Suppose you’re on your death bed, and you expect to go to heaven because you’ve done the minimum 500 good works required to get you through the door. And suddenly, as you review your life, you realize you’ve miscounted. You’ve only done 498! So it’s no heaven for you, after all–missed it by that much.”

That’s quite a burden for any soul to carry. Wouldn’t you rather rely on the grace of God, the free gift obtained for you by Jesus Christ?

But what, then, about good works?

“I will show thee my faith by my works,” says St. James (James 2:18). We are saved by faith, says St. Paul, and not by works: “For if Abraham were justified by works, he hath whereof to glory; but not before God. For what saith the scripture? ‘Abraham believed God, and it was counted unto him for righteousness.’ Now to him that worketh is the reward not reckoned of grace, but of debt. But to him that worketh not, but believeth on him that justifieth the ungodly, his faith is counted for righteousness.” (Romans 4:2-4)

Don’t worry about your works. If you have faith, and are predestined for salvation, the works will follow.

Say It Ain’t So! A Bad ‘Columbo’ Episode?

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As you can see, Columbo himself is embarrassed by this episode.

I’m afraid it is so, kid.

Even as Hollywood libs freak out upon discovering that Islam is not so nice for women, my wife and I last night saw a bad Columbo episode: A Final Salute to the Commodore in Season 5.

I missed this series the first time around, so I’ve been really enjoying it on DVD. In the first four seasons, the quality of the episodes ran from good to superb.

But this one was just horrible.

Peter Falk’s friend, Patrick McGoohan, directed this fiasco. Instead of the usual Columbo schtick of torturing smart, sophisticated murderers by talking about his wife and coming out with philistine remarks on art and culture, all the while appearing to be the innocent little twerp in a crummy raincoat, McGoohan had Peter Falk muttering, constantly repeating himself, and pawing the rest of the cast. At first we thought it was just Columbo trying to unbalance a suspect played by Robert Vaughn, crowding and mauling this guy who hates to be touched; but we soon noticed he was doing it to everyone. Sometimes he did it while muttering and repeating himself. All in all, a flop.

But it teaches a lesson that everyone who tries to tell a story, in any genre, in any medium, would do well to take to heart: unintelligibility does not equal profundity. “Man, that was deep!” is the college sophomore’s way of admitting that he didn’t understand the story he just read or saw in a movie–probably because it had no meaning, it wasn’t about anything. Falling for this old trick is one of those things you’re supposed to grow out of. This is why I don’t like Serious Mainstream Literature, or movies like Carnal Knowledge–it’s either about nothing at all, or something irreducibly trivial blown up as a big deal. And pretentious pseudo-intellectuals say they like it.

This Columbo episode didn’t rise even to that level.

And now I must return to the Real World, where the Pope, who seems not to have paid any attention to the past 60 years of history, says governments have gotta Redistribute Wealth and put an end to Income Inequality.

That doesn’t rise even to the level of a bad Columbo episode.

Progress on ‘The Temple’

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I’ve written half a dozen chapters of my new book, The Temple (No. 8 of my Bell Mountain series) and so far, so good. My wife and my editor think so, at least.

It’s so much more pleasant and fulfilling, doing this, than writing about the slow murder of my country at the hands of her ruling class. I sit outside in the springtime, with my pen and my legal pad, birds singing, flowers blooming: say a prayer, get to work, and before long, I’m in the land of Obann. Later my wife will ask me, “Didn’t you see, didn’t you hear” this or that–and I’ll have to admit I missed it. I was riding with Lord Chutt’s wagon-train full of gold, or following Helki as he spied on it.

Now, if only people would buy and read these books! Books can’t accomplish anything without readers.

Let me take this opportunity to angle tastelessly and vulgarly for readers’ comments on my books. Have they done anything for you at all–the few, the proud, who’ve actually read them?

I know–I sound like John D. MacDonald. Hundreds of thousands of readers loved his Travis McGee books; but at one point in his career, MacDonald didn’t know that, and went to the trouble of setting up a special post office box in hopes that his readers would write letters to him. His career turned out all right, didn’t it? But he was some time waiting for it–time which surely seemed a lot longer, to him and his wife, than it really was.

Are You a Racist?

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OK, it was a hoax: someone told a bunch of men and women on the street somewhere in southern California that Speaker of the House John Boehner said he doesn’t like Mexican food, and asked them if they thought that made him a racist (see http://www.infowars.com/obama-supporters-not-liking-mexican-food-is-racist ). Bearing in mind that all sorts of responses could have been left out of the final version of the video, we still have a lot of people saying oh, yes, by golly, that’s racist! They all said Boehner had to resign (for admitting he didn’t like Mexican food). They all agreed the country “cannot tolerate this bigotry.” One woman said, “They need to make an example of him.” Hey–how about a public beheading?

I wouldn’t take this at all seriously, except a year or two ago, “education” bureaucrats in Britain branded two-year-old infants as “racists” because they wouldn’t eat spicy foreign food. Besides which–are we not hectored by Democrats and media, every single day, that any opposition to them or to their policies, any criticism of the current occupier of the White House, is racist?

I don’t like Mexican food, especially when it’s prepared by Welsh people. “Racist, racist, racist!”

But you know what? I don’t care anymore. They use the word “racist” like they use “um” or “y’know.” The only way you can convince a lib that you’re not a racist is to volunteer to be “it” in a Knockout game.

Meanwhile, it’s a beautiful racist morning here, the racist dogwood tree is in full bloom, the racist bees are gathering racist nectar from the racist flowers, and all racist in all, it’s racist a lovely racist day. I racist hope all you racists out there racist enjoy your racist afternoon.

Minds Set in Cement?

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I wonder if it’s possible to convince anyone of anything that he doesn’t already want to believe.

I go on and on here about bogus Global Warming, creeping statism, and the defects of public education, among other things–but have I ever written anything that changed anybody’s mind? Probably not.

So how do minds get changed? I don’t know; but I’ll tell you about something that changed my mind in a big way, long ago.

Like most of who grew up in the 1950s and 60s, I came to view Science as an unadulterated blessing–minus the contributions of mad scientists you see in horror movies–and scientists as the most trustworthy people in America. The moon landing in 1969 seemed to confirm the faith we had in science.

Then I took a biology course in college.

Toward the end of the semester, after they’d covered everything else, the lecturers in the Rutgers Biology Dept. took some weeks to present their vision for the future–which to me looked like some kind of human ant-hill in which we would all be micro-managed by Experts in every sphere of life.

I wasn’t the only one in the class who didn’t like that vision. Boy, I wish I had those lectures on tape! Finally someone was moved to ask, “But what about freedom and individuality?”

To which the lecturer replied, “Those are obsolete concepts that must be engineered out of the system.”

That changed my mind about science. To this day I continue to suspect them of trying to make their vision a reality, with a little help from their friends in politics.

No one argued me out of my view of science. All I had to do was hear the lectures.

So maybe I haven’t convinced anyone of anything. All I can say is, I’ve given it a try. Also, I just have to protest some of this stuff or my head will explode.

My advice is simply this. Listen to what the big shots say, and watch what they do. Sooner or later some of you will realize what they’re up to.

Old Books, New Delights

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Last night on youtube we watched an episode of the old British cop show set on the Isle of Jersey, Bergerac, guest-starring classic comedian Norman Wisdom as a safe-cracker who is also a compulsive liar. Very soon his lies mushroom entirely out of control. This screenplay was brilliant, the performance was brilliant–a totally unexpected gem, which we only saw serendipitously because the first episode we tried to watch wasn’t loading properly.

You can turn up treasure in old books, too. Years ago, for maybe 25 cents, my wife bought a copy of The Third Omnibus of Crime, 800 pages of scary stories edited by Dorothy L. Sayers (1935). It’s been kicking around here for a long time.

The other night I opened it to a story by A.M. Burrage, The Bargain. It took me totally by surprise, and blew me away.

This is a tale of a haunted stamp collection. Huh? Yes, I said a haunted stamp collection. It’s a simple story, and the style is light, almost bantering. It had to be. Otherwise it’d give you nightmares that might not stop. I never heard of A.M. Burrage, but this ghost story of his is worthy of M.R. James himself. Obviously I’m still marveling at it, or I wouldn’t be writing this review.

You can get The Third Omnibus of Crime via amazon.com. It ain’t cheap; but it’d make a heckuva birthday present for someone who loves short stories of crime and creepiness. The Bargain, if you’re only interested in that story, can also be found in Don’t Open This Book, edited by Marvin Kaye, which you can get very cheaply via amazon.

What–you want to know more about this story? Well, how much can I tell you about a short story without ruining it? Suffice it to say that it’s one of a kind. A haunted stamp collection! I’m still shaking my head over it.

Our Immoral and Unrighteous Government

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Message from a reader, yesterday: “I suggest you limit your crusade to morality and righteousness in America, and leave climate change alone…”

Well, I would–only when government gets into the flim-flam business to take the people’s money and their liberties, I’d say that was pretty immoral and unrighteous.

What I don’t see is how morality and righteousness can thrive in any nation where the government uses lies and scare tactics to increase its power and wealth at the people’s expense. I write about Global Warming/Climate Change/Whatevuh because it shows Stalinist wannabes trying to use “science” as an excuse to impose their will.

If we believe in Man-Made Global Warming, and if we believe that government can protect us from it, if we give government vast new powers, we are just asking to be enslaved.

The federal government of the United State has taken unto itself powers far in excess of those enumerated powers assigned to it under the Constitution. Before we trust them with more power, let’s look at what they do with the power that they have already.

They run up huge public debt, much of it for vain and frivolous projects, and endanger the economic well-being of future generations.

They have intruded the government into every sphere of public life, in spite of the Tenth Amendment, which limits the federal government’s powers to those enumerated in the Constitution.

They campaign against Christianity, trying to drive it out of the public decision-making process.

They promote abortion, and seek to force Christians and other objectors to fund it.

They promote homosexuality.

They play class warfare and encourage the people to covet their neighbors’ property, and to envy them.

They foment and inflame all kinds of bitter divisions and rivalries among the American people, for their own political advantage.

They steal from us. No one goes home poor from Capitol Hill.

They seek continually to erode our freedoms, especially those guaranteed to us under the First and Second Amendments.

Finally, I don’t know about you, but this particular administration’s lust for lawlessness, nakedly and boldly expressed by its top officials, leaves me breathless.

Do you really want to give more power to persons who have done so much wickedness with the power that they have?