Damage Control

THE BLESSED VIRGIN by Wm. Wordsworth

Mother! Whose virgin bosom was uncrost
With the least shade of thought to sin allied;
Woman! Above all women glorified,
Our tainted nature’s solitary boast;
Purer than foam on central ocean tost;
Brighter than eastern skies at daybreak strewn
With fancied roses, than the unblemished moon
Before her wane begins on heaven’s blue coast;
Thy Image falls to earth. Yet some, I ween,
Not unforgiven the suppliant knee might bend,
As to a visible Power, in which did blend
All that was mixed and reconciled in Thee
Of mother’s love with maiden purity,
Of high with low, celestial with terrene!

This iambic pentameter sonnet ( 5 short/long accents, i.e. ‘thy image falls to earth yet some I ween’) with an unconventional rhyme scheme, abbc addb eff gge, beginning with crost,a, allied and glorified, b, boast, c, praises Mary in a form the reading public would have understood, accepted and appreciated in a 19th century wordsmith and Poet Laureate. Fast forward to 2010. Pop music awards are given out tonight at the Grammies to sounds that do equate with music, to artists that do not understand the meaning of art and in a culture that decries transcendent, religious thought.

Mother deliver us!

MARGARITAE SORORI by William Ernest Henly

A late lark twitters from the quiet skies;
And from the west,
Where the sun, his day’s work ended,
Lingers as in content,
There falls on the old, grey city
An influence luminous and serene,
A shining peace.

The smoke ascends
In a rosy-and golden haze. The spires
Shine, and are changed. In the valley
Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun,
Closing his benediction,
Sinks, and the darkening air
Thrills with a sense of the triumphing night -
Night with her train of stars
And her great gift of sleep.

So be my passing!
My task accomplished and the long day done,
My wages taken, and in my heart
Some late lark singing,
Let me be gathered to the quiet west,
The sundown splendid and serene,
Death.

After President Obama’s 400 plus eloquent speeches from his TOTUS, innumerable, irrational talk fests and a claim that he has a ‘gift,’ I submit the above poem as a quiet, calming soothing, ‘devoutly-to-be wished’ analgesic. The beauty in Henley’s choice and placement of words. The rhythm and cadence of his progressive thought. Alliteration on the s sound. The images evoked leading up to the fit and permanent peace. Eat your heart out and cover your ears Obama, the author of the above poem does possess a gift. Henley makes a quiet death appealing. God grants a peaceful death to his faithful ones. God granted peace to the victims of the Holocaust, aptly commemorated a couple days ago. May God grant us weary citizens serene rest from Obama’s insane labors.

Survey, study,poll + 0

This my 4th installment exposing reality vs. a survey (study, poll). A Duke study of 6 - 12 yr. old children proved that 1) institutional child rearing in earliest years has a corrosive effect on early brain and behavioral development. 2) the sooner children are placed with families, the better their chances for recovery 3) within institutions, the more they resemble families, the better children function. Three Doctors bent upon proving that orphanages are undesirable, conclude that “what children need is loving care in which they feel valued, appreciated and protected.” Is this not just what a proper orphanage attempts to do? It points to the agenda of the persons responsible for the survey and the doctors extrapolating from the evidence. Only liberals think in contradictions. They are as transparent as Obama’s lies in his state of the union address last night. These three liberal doctors (and Obama’s progressives) want “high quality family care’ not ‘outdated interventions.’ What pray tell do you call their support of early childhood intervention programs, cradle to grave child care initiatives, pre-school and Head Start programs because families are too busy to or insufficient in the education their children? When you study the obvious is it a study? Children preferably should be raised in families. Yet, in today’s society, the family (mother and father married for life) has virtually disappeared. An orphan by definition is a child bereft of one or both parents abandoned to the state or to a charitable home. By extrapolation, most of America’s children are already ‘orphans,’ not in need of state care but of a caring orphanage. It take as little genius to face these facts as to realize that our President lives in an alternative, irrational and delusional world - the world of contradictory words, ideas and agendas. Remember the outcome of a study depends upon the input of an agenda.

Part 3 of don't believe

Don’t believe in surveys. Rather than provide information, they push an agenda. In a 2007 Whirlpool survey of 2,500 customers, some 78% of respondents claimed they washed approximately 9 loads of laundry a week. Impossible. The major premise of any survey rests on who is selected for questioning on a ‘loaded’ question designed to prove or disprove a goal of the entity doing the survey. With 6 children to keep clean, I never filled my washer more than 3 times a week in the ‘old’ days. Furthermore, my used washers did not hold 18 or 20 lbs of laundry. Do I feel cheated now that I put truth to another ‘elitist’ lie? No, my conservatism and common sense puts a lie to a ‘supposed’ truth from a survey. I suspect the Whirlpool customers surveyed owned fancy washers and dryers, not the ‘make-do’ machines in my past.

Another survey demonstrates that only 27% of Americans think Obama is responsible for the economic ‘mess’ bogging down this country. Yet, his approval rating is only at 50%. When the survey asks whether a vote in the November congressional elections would be “a vote to send a signal of opposition” to the president, do you think most citizens can decode this wording? Never underestimate the ignorance of the people and the cleverness of pollsters. President Carter in hard economic times, put on a sweater; Obama literally, just cranks up the heat in the Oval Office. Obama knows how to talk the talk but he can’t walk the walk. I ask a legitimate question. “What percentage of Americans approve of his hedonistic, wasteful lifestyle, a bad example of all 7 deadly sins - pride, greed, anger, lust, envy, gluttony and sloth. Think about it. A state of of OBAMA speech tonight. More upcoming flights - to Florida and New Hampshire? Waste, waste, waste, waste. I hate waste. A survey of my instincts tells me Obama wastes money, while his Rome burns.

If a survey shows Obama’s job approval and handling of the economy at 50%, given any margin of error, a civil war looms. Surveys, of course, are useless, so

Alway an agenda

Did I say recently, ‘Beware of women with hyphenated names, they are liberal, agenda-driven feminists?’ I stand corrected. Or sit here corrected - because a cardiologist Dr. Francisco Lopez-Jimenez had just rested my case that no hyphen is without a hidden meaning. Yes, I know that in the Hispanic tradition one uses both the mother’s and wife’s names for pedigree. Nevertheless.. A new study at the Mayo Clinic ‘proves’ that as many as 30 million Americans may fall into the ‘normal-weight obesity’ category (including I’m sure myself and everyone I know and see), unaware (blissfully) they may be at increased heart risk. To know, to look or measure it is apparently not to love your body anymore. The hyphenated Doctor and his study aim to panic, confuse and destroy your mind, so, wait a second, what’s the agenda? Since one can’t see the ‘body fat’ how can one rid one’s self of the ‘normal-weight obesity’? A healthy diet? Not quite. Restricting calories to lose weight? Not enough. EXERCISE, weight training and other resistance training will help build lean body mass. Just what we geriatrics need, right? No. The agenda of EXERCISE, a pure liberal agenda and propaganda. “Exercise is the intervention we should be targeting,” mimics a director of a physical activity and weight management research center. Wouldn’t you know? We begin with a hyphen and end up in the weight room. No thanks. I eat a varied diet and keep reasonably active. Period. Finally, the study concludes with a contradiction and qualification (just what I expected) that “there isn’t a professional consensus on an optimal level (of body fat). Now I feel so much better. Don’t you?

To help you, dear reader, feel better too about the uselessness and waste of money on ‘studies,’ a study shows that the percentages of children under 18 whose blood samples tested positive for antibodies to milk, peanuts, eggs and shrimp are 12%, 9%, 7% and 5% respectively. BUT since the tests only indicate the presence of antibodies and not an actual allergy, the percentage may be HIGH. A tiny, specialized minority of people react lethally to an allergen ( for me grass) and we know who can self-identify. But to the majority of people, I say don’t spectate at the liberals’ agenda-driven games; don’t play either. Let me translate the allergy findings and the study in the previous paragraph. It’s all a crock. A crock literally means a decrepit horse; colloquially it means not an expert study, just a game or agenda-driven sport played at the expense of a gullible public

Advise

Dear Father Sullivan,


Glad you liked the Teillhard book. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Since we are all not getting any younger, we presumably should get wiser. As an elder I feel I must give advise to a young and idealistic you. I hope this note serves you well to point out two errors in your thinking. In your Saturday, January 23 sermon, you took on social issues trying to bring our faith into the popular realm. But I need to point out that Catholic dogma (anti-abortion) is not equal to opinion (abolishing the death penalty). Your first error is confusing the two by calling capital punishment “murder.” Capital punishment, rather, is an expiation for the sin of murder carried out by the state for the sake of societal justice. Your opinion may be against an eye for an eye but mine compensates and triumphs the victim over the killer and his abominable sin.

Your second error ( I fear) is your forgetting that government is the problem not the solution to societal problems while believing the buzz words about social justice, such as we need to “redistribute wealth,” people deserve “health care” and another choice of your words, that businesses should be run not on “greed but service.” Although you did not say it, most people assume that such language means ‘government should make a law or provide the service. Let me clarify these three issues. Wealth is CREATED not redistributed. First, only freedom can allow for this to happen and, second, when it happens there will always be an unequal distribution of wealth. Third, prosperity “raises all boats.” Health care is already provided to everyone who needs it here in America though each person must take personal responsibility for his actions. It is not a RIGHT from the state. Lastly, the business of business is business. Greed is a deadly sin but the word has become the bogeyman against self-interest and financial success. Greed should never motivate profit or facilitate the bottom line but it is not a widespread phenomena. Government actually encouraged the ‘greed’ and speculation that led to the recent financial meltdown through favoritism and crony capitalism. Government, which is almost always controlled by special interests, aggrandizes power as it limits freedom in favor of the few over the many. Remember it was ‘government’ by the few that decided abortion was in the best interests of women. Creating wealth helps both employers and employees. If somehow the business or corporation (a legalized collection of individuals) falls into the red, it should FAIL. And what does a business on its knees then do? Get up and begin again. As Schumpeter rightly noted, capitalism is the process of ‘creative destruction.’ A business is in the business of SERVICE to its customers so service goes hand in hand with the accumulation of wealth.

The difference between government as a deadweight on most activities and private charities was emphasized in your remarks after Mass about how St. Colman collected $6,000 for Haiti relief to be funneled through CRS with no overhead cost. In contrast, the government program for relief, headed by Presidents Bush and Clinton, deducts $.28 of every dollar collected as overhead for processing through government hands.

Tom says I should “leave the poor man alone”( you), but is it not my Christian duty to correct errors and spread the good word? Enclosed is a sad bio of a woman killed in the Haitian earthquake. She truly was doing God’s work but she was not generating wealth. Helping the poor was her mission. The Catholic church in Brazil and private charity, not the government, facilitated her success. An oppressive government that disallowed individuals from pursuing their self-interests has caused the tragedy in the country of Haiti over the years. 400 revolutions have not helped. A free market, not billions in American and IMF dollars is the answer - a hand up not a hand out. One need only to look next door to the Dominican Republic as an alternative.

Respectfully,

No good, just grief

A fellow American asks a question and answers it himself. “Is he (Obama) a nut? No. He's just a corrupt, sneaky, power-crazed, arrogant, ignorant fool of a politician. But I wouldn't go so far as to call him a nut. That would be an unconscionable slur to nuts everywhere.” I dearly like my wild, black walnuts harvesting them myself. I also dearly like freedom to choose my lifestyle. So far so good, since it’s still intact, but swirling around me are too many ignorant citizens falling for the idea of equitable distribution of wealth based on a false premise. Wealth is first to be created, thence it will be distributed, always inequitably, but preferably in sufficient supply to raise the standard of living for more people than would otherwise be possible. Only capitalism can do this. My fellow American’s corrupt, sneaky, power-crazed, arrogant ignorant fool of a politician is also an elitist snob governing from a communistic point of view from his ivory tower. Wasting my and other citizens’ monies phases him not as he pretends to feel our pain while assigning blame to wealth generators. No good comes of it, just grief!

IQ of 100

What has inspired me to recall the day in high school that I learned my IQ was merely 100? You guessed it, today’s town hall meeting and appearances by President Obama at a community college, a wind turbine operation and a football helmet business in Lorain, Ohio. You can guess too, that I’m not proud that my home state would host the big O. The big O’s IQ can not approach my mere normal 100. Only a 99 or less ( disregard his gift for reading a TOTUS, every person including myself has a gift for ‘something) can explain his persistent behavior. More self-centered talk at taxpayers’ expense - that’s what today’s obscene photo-up represents. Buzz words and politicking. Obscene? “Offensive to modesty; indecent?” First, remember Obama’s filthy waste of taxpayers’ money which violates the do not covet thy neighbors goods rule of one of the 10 commandments. Second is the do not worship the false god of thyself rule which also violates another of God’s commandments. Godless individuals are not excused from participation in the rightness of the 10 commandments. Only a less than normal IQ can explain a person (Obama) doing the same thing over and over again, getting the same result, thus acting ‘insane.’ Normals like me have not lost our common sense or sense of proportion. Common folk still adhere to the wisdom of the 10 commandments. Flaunt our obscene and insane behavior? No way! Better I’m a proletarian than an elitist.

Lib vs. processed food

I’m back in the saddle again ... riding high against another liberal lie in a study deprecating salt. If the major premise is false, what follows in the minor premise and the conclusion must also be false. A study in the New England Journal of Medicine supposedly shows that we can prevent 1/3 more deaths from heart attacks and strokes and trim (pun intended) 24 billion from the U.S. health care bill by reducing salt in processed foods. “The time is right now to consider efforts to...achieve population wide reduction in salt,” intake, says Kirsten Bibbins-Domingo, first author of the study at the U of C, San Francisco. Where in this statement have I intuited the lie? Simple. California, San Francisco, a woman with a hyphenated name - all dead giveaways of a liberal agenda perpetrated to force the proletariat to choose to limit their intake of salt. Sounds like a Communist tactic to me. Being godless, such progressive thinking, rejects faith in both human nature and common sense in favor of dictatorial control over choices in food production and selection. Just 3 grams of salt could do ‘it,’ according to a computer simulation. “Based on other research, they ( feminists professor and her colleagues) assumed a three-gram reduction in salt would lower systolic blood pressure to 3.6 from 5.6 millimeters of mercury; a one -gram reduction would reduce the level to 1.2 from 1.9 millimeters. How scientific. Of course, now we only need to pass a law. Modest reductions could cut cases of heart disease from 60,000 to 120,000 and blah, blah, blah, reduce about 100,000 deaths a year in the U.S. Talk about tweaking numbers and twisting the arm of freedom!

Consider the cost of these small numbers. Yes, small. 100,000 is a small number. Don’t assume here that the major premise is that too much salt IS bad for one’s health. Oh no, the lie is inherent in any government sponsored, do-gooder legislation. The lie hides beneath supposedly scientific data which cries out for action. Liberal thinking jumps off the printed page when I read words like California, San Francisco and Bibbins-Domingo.

Within this lie is the truth of an agenda aimed at punishing the manufacturers (and advertisers?) of processed foods. Rather we should eat fresh, like ... France? Another lie.

'LOVE' WAS A CAT

Love’s Labor Lost (in 2006)

No day is fine to die,
Or be left behind as love lingers,
Longing to know why,
But never to know
Why a four month affair,
Excursion into trust, sweetness,
Light, my choice at first sight,
A tan waif under the woodpile
Hosting worms and fleas, cried for me,
Purring need, offering devotion,
Purring, purring, unremitting purrs.

Medicated immersions I recall.
His silky coat and bushy tail.
His play, a whirl with the mundane,
A rug scuffled, a foam bird flipped,
A miniature tree climbed, a bell in a ball,
Unconditional feline love inspired all.
Each day dawned with his sun shining.
Trills for his dog biscuit treat,
Trills for his daily dinner near me,
Trills were his billboard’s song.

When I took him home the man said,
“God is with kitty today,” but he
Didn’t foresee the going away,
When purring stopped,
When venison wouldn’t do,
When ‘Love’ grew limp with lassitude.
I ask God why me for the grief of loss,
A life truncated for a lovely, loving cat,
The bond of unremitting purrs cut.
Love the price, happy ‘Love,’
Recalled to heaven as I drip tears
To one hundred and thirty two days,
Too few for a starved prince recalled home.

My cat Blizzard's story

Friday, 10/19/2001, I scribbled the bulk of this, Blizzard’s story, knowing in my head, as I hoped in my heart for the opposite, how it would end.

I loved you, Blizzard. You blew into my life in a blizzard, 5 years ago, 1996. I wasn’t home. My daughter chased, cornered, and then flopped on you in the snow with a blanket (you were wild and frightened). She then literally threw you into my bathroom and shut the door. I returned from work to discover a small, wild, starving, black cat.

I proceeded to tame you like the Little Prince tamed his rose, for which he too would be responsible forever. I gave you the ‘glove treatment’ which encouraged you to submit to the human touch, to affection and domestication. I molded you into an amiable and loveable cat over a long period of time, after which you purred only for me. Only I could bathe your skinny, emaciated body. Before me, a dark duckling turned into the silky swan. I only clipped your nails, clipped out clump after clump of matted fur. I only could comb you, clean your ears. Forget the liquid worm medicine; you spit it across the kitchen counter. Forget popping a pill down your throat; you ‘freaked’ out. But because I tamed you, you meant me no harm. You ignored our dogs. “I need no dog in my life,” you said, ‘just you.” You slowly recovered, gaining weight and grace. You shunned the visiting little grandchildren trying to play ‘cat catcher.’ You visited your cat box and scratching post regularly. You were exclusively my ebony, gold-eyed, perfect cat.

You my Blizzard, liked to pluck bobby pins from a page of a book I was reading. You were rarely sick, but a serious ear infection necessitated a costly trip to the vet and weeks of curative therapy. You watched me make the bed in the morning and gave quarter to my husband only at night when you play-wrestled with him, sometimes drawing blood.- but not too seriously. Never with me. You begged animatedly for venison treats. Typically, you appreciated, jerky, chicken, mayonnaise, cheese, mackerel, salmon and tuna as supplements to your normal diet. You never missed the 11 P.M. ritualistic, cheetos snack. How can I forget? My head was your security pillow. My hellish red cat picked on you, so I needed to console you when the ‘cat from Hell’ launched another attack. I could always count on your purr because you were a ‘purrfect,’ neutered Persian cat.

Then I made the mistake - to open the door to the outside world. You took to the outdoors with a roll on the sunny cement and a romp in grass. You presented me with a vole, then many voles, no one ever relinquished. So after a brief time, after 5 years of a perfect secure indoor life, the freedom of a summer outdoors proved your undoing. I wasn’t home, again. I knew your request was answered or you somehow escaped on 10/17/2001. I trusted that you would return for your evening meal. I missed you that sunny, pretty day. I searched and searched, called and called for my Blizzard but you never answered.

The weather turned wintery. I cried for you in your absence. About a week later, October 26th, (I already recognized that you were gone) with a start, I discovered your wet, cold body resting before my foot under the spirea bush in front of my house. I screamed. I cried ever deeper. What happened to my Blizzard?

I buried you next to your recently deceased, old, harmless, sooty Shar-pei home companion, Hop-Sing. Both of you are symbolically protected there by a statue of St. Francis. Eventually we’ll meet again. Perhaps I’ll learn how and why you deserved to die (or maybe I’ll not care to know). But what I do know is that I miss you because I loved you and tamed you like the Little Prince tamed his rose. You outpoured love. You didn’t deserve to be taken from me so young.

Just the facts, maam....

From one opposed to smoking, here are the facts that speak to the addictive appeal of tobacco over the years. The mean number of cigarettes smoked per day per person in 1965 ( a very good nicotine-free year in my life) was 18.3. In 2008, it was 13.3. A reduction of five ciggies at the cost of billions of dollars in litigation, regulation and taxation. Has it been worth it? If a pack costs $5 to $10 today as opposed to a few cents in the past, and appreciateurs are willing to pay the price? ... draw you own conclusion. Also, if 42% of the adult population smoked in 1965 and only 22% in 2008, does a reduction of 20% really mean a whole lot in terms of success if it is obvious that alternative addictions ( you use your imagination) have not improved the moral underpinnings of our culture? I now justify the descriptions of the so-called types of ‘new smokers’ or ‘part-time’ smokers in 2010, which I claim are not ‘new’ or ‘part-time,’ just smokers, who world over, are ubiquitous in their need for beneficent nicotine.

Social smokers choose to smoke to share good times in pursuit of happiness.
Secret smokers choose to smoke because others (called busybodies) disapprove of their passion.
Stress smokers choose to smoke to cope with problems and avoid some ugly alternatives.
Emotional smokers choose to smoke to manage anger or depression, a cheaper answer than a shrink.
Smokers choose smoking for relaxation so why should suffer discrimination?
Smoking choose to smoke to control their weight. The secret that Hollywood, the porn and fashion industries cannot be let out of the bag, can it?

My conclusion? Butt out. Most smokers do not ask fellow citizens and taxpayers to pay for the possible consequences of their choices - even though they know cigarettes are hazardous to health. But mountain climbers often do. Welfare clients often do. Politicians usually do. Criminals usually do. Most smokers do not pursue a life of crime as a consequence of their nicotine habit. Yet, agenda-driven do-gooders have made smokers pay for their habit through the nose over the last hundred years here in America, claiming the habit bankrupts our health care system. Sadly, only one bad law of government bureaucracy, prohibition, has ever been repealed. History is not on the side of common sense, freedom and personal responsibility.

MY RED CAT IN HEAVEN

I WAS LOVED BY A CAT, PHOENIX, WITH NINE LIVES. I BELIEVE NOW THAT HE REPEATEDLY RESURRECTED HIMSELF NOT JUST OUT OF A COMPELLING, FELINE INSTINCT TO SURVIVE, BUT OUT OF DEVOTION TO ME. I REACHED THIS CONCLUSION IN HINDSIGHT. LIVE, I MALIGNED HIM, CURSED HIM, SOMETIMES HIT HIM, ABUSED HIM WITH THE EPITHET, “CAT FROM HELL.” DEAD, HE RESTS IN A HILLTOP GRAVE MARKED WITH A RED CHEETOS BAG CLIP. CHEETOS WERE HIS LATE NIGHT, FAVORITE TREAT. WHEN THE SCRABBLE TILES FELL FROM THE BOARD INTO THEIR BAG, PHOENIX CAME TO ATTENTION, AWAITING HIS SNACK.

I OBSERVED THE LIFE OF PHOENIX AS ONE MANDATE TO KILL - KILL BIRDS, ELIMINATE OTHER FELINES, OCCASIONALLY PUT A DOG IN ITS PLACE, DETER ANY INTRUDERS. MY PALADIN USUALLY BROKE OFF A NOISY ENGAGEMENT WITHOUT VISIBLE WOUNDS. INSTINCT YES, BUT ALSO, I BELIEVE, HIS MISSION WAS TO PROTECT ME.

PHOENIX REPEATEDLY AROSE FROM THE ASHES OF APPARENT DEFEAT. FIRST A CHILD ACCIDENTALLY STRANGLED HIS RED, FLUFFY KITTEN THAT THEN MIRACULOUSLY CLUNG TO LIFE. AFTER THIS INCIDENT, PHOENIX ENTERED MY HOME, MAY 1995, WITH HIS APPROPRIATE NAME. I WAS CONVINCED OVER THE YEARS THAT HE DESCENDED INTO HELL WHEN HIS BREATHING STOPPED AND HE RETURNED TO EARTH AS THE RED DEVIL.

THOUGH NEUTERED AS AN ADULT, PHOENIX NEVER LOST HIS AGGRESSIVE INSTINCT. IN 1996, I RESCUED BLIZZARD, A WILD, STARVING CAT DURING A WINTER STORM. THEREAFTER HE ENDURED UNPREDICTABLE PERSECUTION. IN 1997, ITCHES WAS ADOPTED BUT THE GREY BABY DIDN’T WORK OUT SO HE ONLY BRIEFLY ENCOUNTERED THE WRATH OF PHOENIX. IN AUGUST, 1999, AN ADULT DOG, SAVANNAH, INTENDED TO REPLACE MY BELOVED OLD DOG (WHO WOULD ACTUALLY DIE THE FOLLOWING YEAR.) PLAYED DEFENSE TO THE OFFENSES OF PHOENIX. JOY, A FOUNDLING KITTEN, WAS ADDED TO MY FOLD IN 2004; HE ULTIMATELY PAID THE PRICE OF NUMEROUS RED ASSAULTS. IN 2006, I ANSWERED THE PLAINTIVE MEOWS OF A KITTEN LOST IN THE CITY, BUT LOVABLE, LOVE, DIED SHORTLY AFTER BLESSING MY HOME.

AGGRESSION INDOORS WAS MINOR COMPARED WITH WHAT PHOENIX PROSECUTED OUTDOORS. IT WAS VIRTUALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO PREVENT HOUDINI FROM MAKING A DASHING ESCAPE. ON ONE OCCASION I WORRIED ABOUT HIS SURVIVAL AFTER A SCREECHING, NIGHTTIME CAT FIGHT. I ALSO RECALL AN AFTERNOON CHASE TO RETRIEVE HIM AND BRING HIM BACK HOME. I RAGED TO MY NEIGHBOR (WHO DIDN’T UNDERSTAND THE IMPORT OF OWNING A CAT FROM HELL), “YOU HAVE PERMISSION TO KILL HIM.”


PHOENIX ESCAPED ANOTHER TRAGEDY BY A FLUKE. MY DAUGHTER, FOLLOWING A HUNCH, SEARCHED A NEIGHBOR’S BARN ( A THIRD TIME ) AND FOUND HIM TRAPPED IN THE RAFTERS - STARVING AND WEAK. THE SEARCH FOR MY MISSING CAT HAD ALREADY BEEN CONDUCTED FOR OVER A WEEK. POOR PHOENIX, LUCKILY ESCAPED A LONELY DEATH.

YEARS ADVANCED AND THE CAT FROM HELL SHOWED ME HIS DEVOTED, NEEDY, SHARE-MY-BED, DEEPLY AFFECTIONATE SIDE. BUT TO STRANGERS HE REVEALED HIS ‘DARKER’ SIDE. HE GENEROUSLY GREETED STRANGERS BY PURRING LOUDLY, RUBBING FACES AND HEADS. BUT THEN... CANINES SUNK INTO SKULL. VISITORS WERE WARNED THAT THE CAT WOULD BITE.

EVENTUALLY PHOENIX DISAPPEARED AGAIN. WHEN HE FINALLY STAGGERED HOME, UP TO MY BACK DOOR, HE WAS EXHAUSTED, BARELY BREATHING, DISPLAYING A GAPING BITE HOLE IN HIS THROAT. CARRIED TO A SAFE CORNER UPSTAIRS, I RELEGATED HIM TO A PLACE THAT I THOUGHT MIGHT AFFORD HIM PERMANENT PEACE. BUT PHOENIX GRADUALLY RECOVERED - EXCEPT FOR HIS VOICE. THE HEALED HOLE CONCEALED HIS DAMAGED VOCAL CHORDS; PHOENIX PERMANENTLY LOST HIS MEOW. BY NOW I MARVELED AT HIS COURAGE AND WILL TO SURVIVE AND RESOLVED THAT PHOENIX WOULD REMAIN CONFINED TO THE HOUSE.

I WAGED AN ONGOING BATTLE AGAINST EAR MITES AND FLEAS. FEW YEARS PASSED WITHOUT MEDICATION INFUSED INTO PHOENIX’S EARS TO RID HIM OF THE BLACK CRUST OR WITHOUT INFESTATIONS OF ITCHING FLEAS. THE CRUSADE CULMINATED IN A TWO YEAR SIEGE; BATHS, COLLARS, INSECTICIDE DROPS VERSUS THE FLEAS. CONDITIONS AT ONE POINT WERE SO BAD THAT PHOENIX ACTUALLY ITCHED AND SCRATCHED AWAY MOST OF HIS FUR AND COUGHED UP A HAIRBALL EVERYDAY. WHAT A BALD, UGLY, BUT EXQUISITELY PATIENT CAT.

ON AUGUST 15, 2008, FLEAS FINALLY CONQUERED, I BEHELD A RESURRECTED PHOENIX. HIS COAT RADIATED IN PEAK CONDITION. AT 13, HIS FUR WAS THICK, SOFT, SHINY, HEALTHY, THE BEST OF THE BEST.

PHOENIX’S PENULTIMATE ESCAPE WAS FROM A STROKE. SEPTEMBER 3, 2008, A SEIZURE GRIPPED HIM. HE SUDDENLY LOST EQUILIBRIUM, WOBBLED, BOTH FECES AND VOMIT SHOT OUT OF HIM. IMMOBILE, I PUT HIM INTO A BATHROOM AND SHUT THE DOOR. I WAITED. 3 HOURS LATER PHOENIX APPEARED TO HAVE RECOVERED. HIS NORMAL BEHAVIOR RESUMED THE FOLLOWING DAY.

PHOENIX’S NINE LIVES WERE USED UP ONLY A FEW MONTHS LATER. HE WHO WEATHERED FIGHTS, INJURIES, INVADERS, WHO FED WITH GUSTO EACH DAY, WHO VOICELESS NEVER MISSED A MEAL OR A NAP TIME, WHO PREFERRED TO SLEEP ON MY FACE OR AT LEAST TOUCHING A HUMAN’S BODY - FELL ILL. WHEN PHOENIX STOPPED EATING I WORRIED. I TRIED THE USUAL TEMPTING TIDBITS BUT MY CAT FADED. HIS PURRING SLOWED. WHEN CANCER ATE A HOLE IN HIS BRAIN, HIS EYES BLED. PHOENIX WENT TO BABY JESUS CHRISTMAS DAY, 2008.

RED IS THE COLOR OF BLOOD, OF MY CAT FROM HELL, THE COLOR OF HIS GRAVE MARKER, THE METAPHORICAL COLOR OF HIS PSYCHE EACH TIME HE TRIED TO KILL A TRESPASSER AND OF THE COLOR OF MY ANGER WHEN I COULD NOT QUELL HIS INSTINCTS. NOW THAT HE’S GONE OVER A YEAR, I REGRET THAT I DID NOT ADEQUATELY RETURN HIS LOVE. I REGRET THAT I DID NOT SUFFICIENTLY APPRECIATE THE 13 1/3 YEARS PHOENIX GAVE TO ME AS TIME SHARED WITH A GREAT CAT.

I REMEMBER AN AFTERNOON WHEN I WAS CRACKING BLACK WALNUTS ON A BRICK ON THE FLOOR. SUDDENLY THE HAMMER BASHED MY THUMB CRUSHING FLESH AND SENDING MY SCREAMS INTO THE HOUSE. PHOENIX WAS THE FIRST BODY TO RUSH TO MY DISTRESS, TROTTING UP TO ME WITH EMPATHY. NO, PHOENIX YOUR CONTINUOUS PURRING SHOULD HAVE REMINDED ME THAT YOU ARE NOT A CAT FROM HELL. I LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING YOU, AGAIN, IN HEAVEN.

Optional reality

Is reality optional nowadays or has civilization just become incompetent? Seems no reasonable solution can be found for the prevalence of Somali piracy, no common sense method exists for detaining terrorists, no rational assessment can be made of climate change and no ability prevails to rebuild Ground Zero in New York after 9 years. America and the world are nuts! Homo sapiens has surrendered his sapiens to political correctness, liberalism and modern progressive thinking, to a Utopian or Unicorn vision of reality. Where do we go from here? Do we continue down the same path in 2010? I say, ‘Hell, no.’

The trouble with following the herd is stepping in what it leaves behind. - turds of lost freedoms, scat reminders of what we’ve lost and are continuing to lose day by day. We have lost the freedom to be courageous against deadly enemies, the freedom required to kill not accommate them. We have lost the freedom to educate ourselves about environmental facts. We have lost the freedom to make informed decisions without worrying about who might take offence. Each dropped turd of a lost freedom exposes the dirty little secret that we Americans, and nutty civilized peoples around the world, have abandoned reason, have made reality optional. Happy New Year 2010.

Prayers are answered

The Bear and the Atheist
An Atheist was walking through the woods, admiring the "accidents" that evolution had created. "What majestic trees! What powerful rivers" What beautiful animals!" he said to himself.
As he was walking along side the river, he heard a rustling in the bushes behind him. Turning to look, he saw a 7-foot grizzly bear charge toward him. He ran away as fast as he could up the path.
He looked over his shoulder and saw the grizzly was closing. Somehow he ran even faster, so scared that tears came to his eyes. He looked again, and the bear was even closer. His heart was pounding, and he tried to run faster. He tripped and fell to the ground. He rolled over to pick himself up, but the bear was right over him, reaching for him with its left paw and raising its right paw to strike him.
At that instant the atheist cried, "Oh my God!"
Time stopped. The bear froze. The forest was silent. Even the river stopped moving.
As a bright light shone upon the man, a voice came out of the sky, "You deny my existence for all these years, teach others that I don't exist, and even credit creation to a cosmic accident. Do you expect me to help you out of this predicament? Am I to count you as a believer?"
The atheist looked directly into the light and said, "I would feel like a hypocrite to become a Christian after all these years, but perhaps you could make the bear a Christian."
"Very well," said the voice.
The light went out. The river ran. The sounds of the forest resumed. Then the bear dropped his right paw, brought both paws together, bowed its head, and spoke: "Lord, for this food which I am about to receive, I am truly thankful."