Crimes against humanity.

Sins that make me cry to heaven for vengeance!

From Brietbart.com:

Two women suicide bombers who have killed nearly 80 people in Baghdad were Down's Syndrome victims exploited by al Qaida.

The explosives were detonated by remote control in a co-ordinated attack after the women walked into separate crowded markets, said the chief Iraqi military spokesman in Baghdad General Qassim al-Moussawi.

Other officials said the women were apparently unaware of what they were doing in what could be a new method by suspected Sunni insurgents to subvert toughened security measures. - Story

What a filthy thing to do, exploiting the mentally handicapped in this manner! The crime of suicide bombing is bad enough, but this is a new low!

Candlemas, the Purification, the Presentation...

Or the feast of the Virgen de la Candelaria.

This feast day has many names.

Locked out again.

I cannot access Abbey-Roads 2 and therefore cannot post your comments either. This happens periodically and has something to do w/my firewall.

In the meantime, I will be posting on Abbey 1 - which means I'll try and be serious again.

Rewind!

Friday Movie Contest!!!!!!!! (New feature for Lent- this is just a pilot.)

Dialog from the film pictured above:

Beverly: [as Beverly hits Mrs. Jenson a final time] REWIND!

Contest questions:

Friday contest guestion: What song is Mrs. Jenson singing in this scene?

Bonus point: What actor's movies were Mrs. Jenson's favorites?

Double bonus point: What character outside the house witnessed this scene?

Triple bonus point: What is the name of the film this scene is from?

Quadruple bonus point: What is Beverly's last name?

Winners of this contest may earn themselves extra time in purgatory!

15 degrees below zero in Minneapolis, Minnesota

And Jeron sent me this email yesterday, complaining of the cold:

"It was 65 degrees this morning & it's dropping to 27 by 5pm. Welcome to St. Louis."

Dat boy don' no nuttin' 'bout code.

(I'll be offline for adoration all day.)

Confirmation names....

What's in a name?

My friend Angela mentioned that when she was confirmed she was told "We no longer take names for confirmation." So Angela took her name 'secretly' - she can do that. When I was confirmed, it was a very big deal to take a name; in fact, part of our retreat before confirmation dealt with our discerning which name to take. When my little brother was confirmed eleven years later, he wanted to take the name of a movie star he liked. I took care of that - after we prayed to the Holy Spirit, I made him draw a saint's name and that is the name he got.

Sr. Mary Martha has a fun and informative post on the subject. One thing she says is that our confirmation name will be our name in Heaven - so I guess I'll be called St. Peter... Be nice to me - you may have to deal with me at the gates. (All of us Peters stick together, you know.)

[Art: "The martyrdom of St. Peter of Verona" I am named after this St. Peter.]

Here is something you wouldn't find out in an ordinary meme...

Cathy of Alexandria was a huge figure skating star.

Cathy writes: "There was a time when I would have actually gone to Nationals.... I went to the Olympic Festival when it was held here." Yet she laments, "Today, I can barely tell you who the up and comers are or who the current national champions are." Apparently experiencing a sort of literary disorientation, Cathy writes, (You know,) "I'm not sure exactly when I quit the sport of figure skating."

Later on, in an obvious attempt to put to rest all the rumors and questions if drinking had anything to do with her dropping out of the skating circuit, Cath writes, "I think it all ended for me when it became apparent that it was all about the jumps." Continuing with that thread, she added how she would, "wobble and land with (her) arms flailing..." (landing) "in the "kiss and cry" area"

After attacking skater Surya Bonaly, calling her a, "French brat and all-around poor sport," Cathy writes, "I'm not even sure I'd call" her a woman. "Clearly, sexuality has nothing to do with how well (she) skate(s)." Oddly enough, she abruptly ends her tirade about Bonaly with this cryptic statement, "I feel like someone should be arrested for child pornography."

Without giving everything away, her memoir concludes somewhat poignantly: Cathy wrote, (Now) "If I want to see people hitting the ice for a few hours, I'll film myself skating at Parade Stadium."

That just sounds so Norma Desmond, doesn't it? The entire post is quite sad.

(I wonder if her friend Adoro's real name is Nancy?)

[This review is an edited version of Cathy's original post - all words in quotation marks are Cath's actual statements. Photo: Cath after losing Nationals.]

No honor among thieves...

Or politicians for that matter.

The Kennedy's are endorsing Barack Obama. Though considered a friend of the family, Hilary Clinton has been kicked aside for the man Caroline thinks is just like her dad. Jack Kennedy was certainly charismatic, but he was not the greatest president.

Considering the Clinton Body Count and all, I'd watch my back around Hilary. You know what they say about a woman scorned... LOL!

[Photo caption: "Caroline what? Why that little bitch!"]

Acedia...

Sadness, or self-pity, is the twin sister of acedia. They are similar in some respects, but not identical. The sad person finds relief more easily, whereas the one besieged by acedia is trapped. Sadness is a temporary, part-time experience, but acedia is global and permanent. In this sense it is opposed to human nature.

The chief symptoms of this devilish “scourge that lays waste at noon” are inner instability and the need for change (with wandering fantasies of a better place), excessive care of one’s own health (with special emphasis on one’s food), escape from manual work (with laziness and inactivity), uncontrolled activism (under the appearance of charity), neglect of the monastic practices (reducing observance to a minimum), indiscreet zeal in a few ascetic exercises (with extreme criticism of one’s neighbor), generalized discouragement (with the beginnings of a depression).

Since acedia stirs up all the other vices, it cannot be cured by a single contrary virtue. What is needed is a varied, multi-layered therapy: tears of compunction (and non-verbal cries for saving help); recourse to God’s Word (to oppose the inroads of vice); meditation on death (to evaluate the present in the light of eternity); patient, persevering resistance (avoiding little compensations and putting one’s trust in the Lord). It is easy to see that all these remedies or weapons lead to an encounter with God. In the last analysis, acedia is a flight from God and is only cured by the patient, practical search for his Face. - Dom Bernardo Olivera

Many times...

I wish I had stayed.

Canned heat in his heels...

Fire at the Monte Carlo in Vegas.

I wonder if Tom was involved in this?

Friendless in Minneapolis.

A maniacal monk's nemeses...

I got an email today from a guy I was a monk with at a certain mid-western monastery. We were novices together, and very fun ones, which is why our maniacal novice master would not let us associate with one another or speak to one another. I thought my little monk-ey friend was dead, so I am very happy to hear from him now. Comment moderation has been enabled for fear of what he might write - if he chose to comment - ever. (In his email he mentioned how good I look in my profile photo - yet somehow different from what he remembered. It's because of the glasses - I'm not wearing my glasses. It is so funny how time fades memory, isn't it?)

I don't feel so friendless any more - there are not that many people left who go back that far in my life - I mean, those still willing to talk to me. LOL!

*yer saury erse*

The Sompnour's Tale

This Friar boasteth that he knoweth hell,*

And, God it wot, that is but little wonder,*

Friars and fiends be but little asunder. *

For, pardie, ye have often time heard tell,*

How that a friar ravish'd was to hell *

In spirit ones by a visioun, *

And, as an angel led him up and down,*

To shew him all the paines that there were,*

In all the place saw he not a frere;*

Of other folk he saw enough in woe.*

Unto the angel spake the friar tho;* *then*

'Now, Sir,' quoth he, 'have friars such a grace,*

That none of them shall come into this place?'*

'Yes' quoth the angel; 'many a millioun:'*

And unto Satanas he led him down*.

'And now hath Satanas,' said he, 'a tail*

Broader than of a carrack is the sail.*

Hold up thy tail, thou Satanas,' quoth he,*

'Shew forth thine erse, and let the friar see *

Where is the nest of friars in this place.'*

And *less than half a furlong way of space* *immediately*

Right so as bees swarmen out of a hive,*

Out of the devil's erse there gan to drive*

A twenty thousand friars *on a rout.*

*in a crowd* And throughout hell they swarmed all about,*

And came again, as fast as they may gon,*

And in his erse they creeped every one:*

He clapt his tail again, and lay full still.*

.....................................Canterbury Tales

best quote ever...

"Most Catholic bloggers happen to be Protestants with delusions of orthodoxy." - Source

LOL!

The new patron saint of pop culture...

Heath Ledger - dead at 28.

He will surely surpass the cult status of James Dean.

May he rest in peace.

War of the Roses...

Clinton and Obama are beginning to fight like a couple having marital problems...

While it looks as if Oprah is in trouble with women because she campaigned for Obama...

Yet Bill just dreams about interns.

kids...

Nobody knows the trouble you feel

Nobody cares, the feelin' is real

Johnny, we're sorry, won't you come on home

We worry, won't you come on

What is wrong in my life

That I must get drunk every night

Johnny, we're sorry won't you come on...

Use the phone, call your mom

She's missing you badly, missing her son

Who do you know, where will you stay

Big city life is not what they say

Johnny, we're sorry, won't you come on home

We worry, won't you come on

What is wrong in my life

That I must get drunk every night

Johnny, we're sorry won't you come on...

You'd better go, everything's closed

Can't find a room, money's all blown

Nowhere to sleep, out in the cold

Nothing to eat, nowhere to go

Johnny, we're sorry, won't you come on home

We worry, won't you come on

What is wrong in my life

That I must get drunk every night

Johnny, we're sorry won't you come on. home

We worry, won't you come on home...

.........................fine young cannibals.

And then: Why do you blog?

Because you have a "savior of the world complex" like Bono?

I ask myself this question all of the time. Why do I blog? I think, no matter what the initial altruistic reasons one may have had for beginning to write a weblog, it comes down to one's ego, satisfying self-love. (Or, maybe just for me?)

So anyway - why do you blog?

Who blogs?

I think more women than men blog.

Yep! I do.

Dior Homme by Kris Van Assche Spring Summer 2008

See - male models can be anorexic too, and these look very sickly.

Fashion isn't real you know - it is just a marketing thing to get the rich and vulnerable to change their clothes every season.