Nephew Henry Will Hate This

" Is this where Arthur lives?"

Thus asked the kid that was canvassing the block.  I was on the porch swing after hitting balls on the range.

"Yes," I said. ". I would be Arthur. What are you trying to sell me?"

Pause.

" Well, you might have noticed that AT&T has been doing a lot of fiber optic work around here."

"Actually I haven't.  But if you are trying to sell me U-Verse I'm not interested."

"Really?"

"Really."

" Well, what are you paying for bundled services?"

" None of your business."

" I bet I can guess what you are paying."

"And I bet I can guess that my answer to you that it is none of your business won't change."

He writes in his book.

"Good night Sir."

"Good night Son.  Don't come back."

He blew out of here in an oil burning heap with Texas tags.

My Memorial Day Feeling

About a month ago a dentist over to a nearby town received a delinquent tax notice from the Arkansas Department of Finance and Administration.  Evidently, it pissed him off.  According to the allegations in the Affidavit for Warrant of Arrest, he faxed a letter to the local DF&A office in which he threatened to kill the DF&A Division Manager and "any government tyrants, agents or such that tried to come and collect or such that tried to shut down his business."  The Affidavit also alleges that our hero would "make (the Division Manager's)wife a widow in order to keep his business open."

This exercise of his 1st Amendment rights got him tagged with a charge of Terroristic Threatening which is a Class D felony.  His lawyer entered a not guilty plea on his behalf and a trial date was set.

Although there is nothing remotely funny about this incident, I am frequently amused by such Tea Party rhetoric.  And the following question comes to mind:  What is the government?  According to the comic book rhetoric of the NRA and the Tea Party it consists of "thugs in jackboots (always in jackboots)" that are hell bent on taking away our freedoms.  Indeed, our hero referred to the employees in the local tax office as "tyrants."  Which I suppose means that he interpreted their sending him a goddamn letter to be an act of tyranny.

Quite frankly, and as hurtful as this may sound, he ain't important enough to tyrannize.

But let us turn back to the question of what is the government?

It's not guys in jackboots although they got 'em.  They are called Marines.  It's the highway department.  It's the lady that brings the mail.  It's the public school teacher.  It's the water works.  It's the air traffic controller.   It's the guy from the Soil Conservation Service who will help you figure out why your pond is leaking. It's the cop that answers the call from 911. It runs the Universities and the professional schools.  It gave me my license to practice law and there is at least one dentist I know that probably ought to have his license suspended.  Maybe it's just me but I view threatening to kill a public servant as inconsistent with the sound judgment required to prescribe Schedule II narcotics.  What all this stacks up to criminally is for the Judge and Jury to decide.  But I can't imagine what the Committee on Professional Responsibility would do to me if I committed such a damn fool act regardless of whether it constituted a criminal act.  I just can't imagine.

The government is you and me and pissed off dentists even.  Although suffice it to say a letter containing death threats is probably not what the Founding Fathers were contemplating when they put the right to petition the government for redress of grievances in the Constitution of the United States of America.  The government is you and me when we vote.  The government is you and me when we attend town hall meetings.  It's you and me when we bid on public works jobs.  You get the idea.

It sent my buddies John and Danny to the Middle East.  It killed Osama Bin Laden.  It invaded Normandy and subdued the Nazis.  You want tyrants?  You want thugs in jackboots?  The Germans tried to eradicate an entire race of people from the planet. And damn near succeeded. There's you some tyranny,Son.

The government sent my father to the Pacific Theatre in World War II.  It taught him how to be an electrician.  It sent him to college on the GI Bill where he learned to be an engineer.  And it buried him for free along with countless other men and women who wore the uniform.  My father was a pretty conservative guy.  He voted for Nixon and Ford.  He owned guns for hunting and for self-defense.  I guarandamntee you that Buck Bowen would consider the Tea Party's narcissistic and paranoid view of the government as juvenile and silly.

Sure, we can all find dealing with the government frustrating if not irritating at times.  Of course, there is waste and inefficiency, although not as much as widely suspected.  But anybody who took high school civics ought to know that the right to own a gun doesn't give you the right to threaten to blow somebody to Kingdom Come just because you get a tax bill.

Meanwhile, about the same time as our dentist friend was getting riled up, a lawyer over to Little Rock received a delinquent tax notice from the Arkansas Department of Finance and Administration as well.  It pissed him off too.

With an angry and defiant stride I swiftly went to the fax machine as well.

And I sent it to my accountant to deal with.

Happy Memorial Day.  Thanks to all our Veterans for their sacrifice and service.

My Sunday Feeling

No MSF today as there is too much long weekend stuff to do!  Thanks to all our veterans and to those who paid the ultimate sacrifice so that we might enjoy our freedom.

Talk amongst yourselves!

My Henry Feeling

Dear Henry:


How old were you in this picture then?  6?  White hair from your Dad and his Grandfather.  Long arms and legs from somewhere.  And a brain that, mercifully for you,.was never overly influenced by me.

You don't get me.  I know.  That's cool.  You don't have to.  For example, you were disturbed by the story of me throwing the door-to-door salesman off my porch a month or so ago.  We all have different gifts, Hen.  That sort of thing works for me.

Flashback: I got the call about your arrival around 11 pm the night before or so as I recall. I'm certain that your Mom can provide the details in acute detail.  Moms, they do that.  Guys, we just show up.

Anyway, I threw stuff in a bag and headed for Conway.  I called Uncle John en route and said, "Here we go."

I let myself in your house.  Well, it wasn't your house yet.  You were en route to the hospital.  Anyway, the next day your brother Eli asked me over breakfast how I got in the house without him knowing anything about it.

" I'm good at stuff like this E."

He nodded as he crunched the cereal that I had fixed for him.  No change in expression.  True Story.

Flashback # 2:  There you were.  Laying there on your Mom's body.  10 minutes into the world you were.  You were hungry.  "Tock, tock, tock," your empty bird mouth went.  Eli was there.  He was scared.  Your Mom took his hand.  I pulled him to me.  "This is how we look when we are born," me being the expert that I was and still am about these matters.

And here you today are as tall as me although in my my mind's eye you're still the little boy in the picture above.  Going off to Fayetteville to get your start in the world.  Wow.

You didn't ask for advice.  But here it comes anyway.

The most important lesson about money I learned was from Uncle Howard who told me when my father died that "You have to pay yourself first."  Which means putting $ away as soon as you earn your first check.  It ain't high finance.  And I'm hardly a wealthy man.  But it's worked out for me.

Here's another thing.  Money is important but you can't purchase your self-esteem.  Really you can't.

My buddy Pat tells young folks that if you treat college as seriously as you treat a job you will be OK.  That makes sense to me although neither he nor I actually did that.

This just occurred to me.  You should avoid the temptation to try to make God do what the Bible says.  The Good Book contains much wisdom and it will profit you to continue to study it.  But it will also profit you to remember that it doesn't say a damn thing about financial planning, natural science or who you should vote for.

I could go on and on.  You know that.  It's part of my discrete charm.

But I won't.  You will have to figure out most of this stuff on your own.  Especially when it comes to women.  For God's sake don't ask me.

You're a good Methodist kid.  So let's end this sermon with some words of wisdom that are commonly attributed to John Wesley although there is no evidence that he actually wrote them.  Oh.  Another bit of advice.  History sometimes lies like that.  Check that.  History lies like hell. Especially on the Internet.  When I practiced law I used to say that facts are troublesome things.  Always have a command of your facts.  So few people do anymore.  Really.  Facts are not what feel right to you.  Facts are, well, empirically provable shit that really happened.

Anyway, you would do well to commend the words that Mr. Wesley should have said to your memory.

"Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can."

Do all the good you can, Hen.  That seems to be a pretty good prescription for life.  If you do all the good you can you will be less likely to feel the need to purchase your self-esteem.  See above about the relative importance of money to the grand scheme.

You don't get me, Son.  That's OK.  But you will always know where to find me.

Congratulations. I am so proud of you.

Love,

Uncle Paul

My Sunday Feeling

No MSF today sports fans.  Got company coming, and some other writing gigs to get in the can.

Will be back soon.

Until then, talk amongst yourselves.

My Sunday Feeling

The phone buzzed bright and early one morning last week.

"Don't go outside!" the message said. It was from my back alley neighbor Debbie.

"Why not?" I typed back.

" Cops chasing suspects down Fillmore Street.  We are on lockdown here at the school.  They are believed to be armed.  Don't go outside!"

One of the many reasons I like living where I live is because of the strong sense of community.  We tend to know our neighbors here in the People's Republic of Hillcrest.  We tend to know what's going on.  Folks tend to stop and visit as they push strollers or walk their dogs.

Debbie has been my neighbor since I bought this little house.  She keeps an eye on me and me on her.  Like the other day.  We walk together sometimes.  She offers to bring me food or to go to the pharmacy when she hears I am sick.  During the snowstorm it was a comfort to see the lights on beyond the fence.

"You OK?" I texted every night.

"Yeah, we're OK.  You need anything?"

"No.  I'm fine.  Let me know if you need something."

"Same here."

It's nice to know that somebody is looking out for you.

I have never been to Boston.  But it is my understanding that it is a close knit kind of place as well.  And surely the events of the last week have done nothing to change my general impression.  So the almost universal expressions of shock and surprise from the community at the news that brothers Tamerlan and Dzhokar Tsaraev, were suspected of committing the atrocities both at the Boston Marathon and afterwards.

As events unfolded, we learned that Tamerlan, the older of the two, was a pretty nasty piece of work.  He had been cited for domestic violence.  He had become more religious, more interested in the teaching of radical Islam.  An aspiring boxer, he had started to behave disrespectfully toward other members of the fight club he belonged to.  Indeed, he was about to be kicked out by the coach.  But still, just because you're a "d*ck" (as he was described in the Boston Globe by the coach) doesn't mean your capable of placing an improvised weapon of mass destruction next to an 8 year old.

Dzhokar, on the other hand was described as kind and gentle.  Sure, he smoked a little dope now and again but that is hardly unheard of in 19 year old males.  Friends and classmates of the younger brother expressed their shock and disbelief that Dzhokar was capable of such a thing on the news program 60 Minutes last week.

So, the question on the minds of many people is " How did we not see this coming?"  Even Tamerlan's widow swears she knew nothing of her husband's dark plans and is said to be cooperating with authorities.  So how does this happen?

I guess one of the answers is that the public face we display to the world in our daily sojourns might vary with the one we display behind closed doors.  It might not vary much.  But it can vary.  We don't really know who among us is desperately sad, angry or lonely.  We wave and we talk but that doesn't mean we know each other.

For example, there's a young fellow who lives a couple of doors down.  Big sportsman.  Hunts and fishes all year round.  He owns lots of guns.  Nice kid.  I have no reason to believe that he is anything but the sensible and honorable gun owner that he has always appeared to be to me.  But then again I don't know that with any degree of absolute certainty.  Does that mean I am vigilant about the possibility of the unthinkable?  Of course not.  We, in a civilized society, repose trust in smiling and waving.  I don't give him a second thought.

Another story.  I pretty much know everybody in my neighborhood.  At least by sight.  Or so I thought. Last week I had a luncheon meeting with a woman who the Residents Association hired to sell ads for the upcoming newsletter.  As we were making small talk it turns out that we have lived a block or so apart for 7 years and had never laid eyes on each other until that day.  We have numerous mutual friends and everything.  For some reason for all of this time, we just never fell into each other's orbit despite the fact that she lives a 6 iron from my front yard.  This was amazing to both of us.

You just can't know everything.  All we can do is to try be good neighbors.  To be observant but not give in to suspicion or paranoia.  To be grateful for good neighbors like my Debbie.  Worth her weight in gold she is.

And to be ever willing to help divert a neighbor from a self-destructive path if we can discern this from behind the smiling and waving.

That's about it.  Really.  That's about it.

My Saturday Feeling

Taking a pass for Sunday as I have too much stuff going on.  Will return Sunday night or Monday.

Talk amongst yourselves.

My Sunday Feeling

" It's good of you to do this," I told D.  " I really appreciate it."

" This is not a problem," she replied.  "I'm glad to give back."

We were meeting a client at the women's shelter along with her daughter at a local park.  The kid's a Senior in high school.  The mom couldn't afford to purchase graduation pictures.  The shelter called me and asked me if I would take the kid's picture.  I told them that I would be happy to do it.  But I'm the living embodiment of the line from a mob movie.

I'm a guy who knows guys.

And so I told GG at the shelter that I bet D would do it.  So I sent D an e-mail.  I was right.  She agreed.

And that's how I came to be present at a fashion shoot on a Saturday afternoon with one of the best photographers in Arkansas.

The kid is a beautiful black girl.  Diana Ross thin.  White dress, clunky bracelet, 8" inch heels.  D gets her to climb up on a stone walk.  Which the kid somehow does without breaking an ankle.  D is setting exposures.

"Do I look OK?" the kid says.

"Oh you're great," says the voice behind the camera. "You have such a nice figure.  Doesn't she Paul?"

" She is a lovely girl," I say.

"I guess you probably need to leave it at that don't you? Sorry."

She sets the flash.

"Did you dance at lot in the prom last night?"

"I sure did."

"In those shoes?" I ask.

"No," all 3 women say.

I had to ask.  Right?  Besides, she is young and limber.  She probably could have done it if she wanted to.

D quits fiddling with her Nikon and soon we are off.  Hands on hip.  Smiling.  Not smiling.  Turn this way.  Turn that way.Let's see a smile.

"She's good," I whisper to D.

"All these little girls love the camera," she said.  " I used to have to kind of show them what to do.  Now they all look like pros.  It's funny."

She turns to the mom.

"I saw a lot of clothes in the trunk.  You got something else for her to change into?"

"Yes ma'am," the mom says.  "If that wouldn't be a problem?"

"Nope.  Not a problem to me. We will be over there by that tree."

We walk across a grassy space to an old sweet gum tree.  D changes out a lens.

"Lot of clothes in that trunk," she says.

"Not unusual," I reply. "Lots of times they just throw what they can in a bag or a trunk and get the hell out of dodge."

" As you know, I started out as a medical photographer.  I used to take pictures of battered women in the ER.  I remember one in particular.  This asshole had beat her senseless.  She said she was going back to him.  She went back to him.  The next time I took her picture was in the morgue.  He finished the job."

She looks through the viewfinder.

"Some things you just don't forget."

By this time Mom and Tyra Banks have returned.  The kid is wearing slacks and a jacket.

D leans her up against the tree.  They go through the drill again.  She then has the kid take her shoes off.  She has her lie on her side.  Ceder Hill Road rolls up behind.

"Look," I tell the mom. "See how her length with the winding road in the background makes such a good image?"

"Oh," she says. " That is so pretty."

"Ok," D says. " You get 5 more.  We've done serious and we've done fashiony shots.  Let's do something fun. You said you're a dancer.  Can you jump and kick your heels to your booty?"

Well of course she can.

D is seated on the ground beside me firing away.  The kid is jumping around and being happy.

"I know this is dumb," she said. "But I just love jumpy shots."

We are done after the jumpy shots.  D and I head for the parking lot.  Mom says they are going to hang around in the park for awhile.  After all, it is such a beautiful day.

I put my arm around D's shoulder.

"You're going to Heaven, Buddy." I said.

" Well, like I said I like to give back.  I've had a great career.  I made a living taking pictures. I sure had a lot of help along the way.  I'm fortunate.  I only do what interests me now.  So I'm honored to help these folks."

As was I.

I've had a great career.  I had a lot of help along the way.  And like D, I like to give back.

It's not like D and I cured MS or anything Saturday afternoon.

But if I can help a kid in the battered women's shelter find a fleck of normal, of course I am going to do it.

Not that I did much of anything.

 I'm just a guy who knows guys.

Good guys like D.

My Sunday Feeling

A new NCAA Champion on the men's side will be crowned tomorrow night in Atlanta.  I think Louisville win it all but Syracuse and Michigan look awfully good right now as well.  Even though I can't say for certain who will win, I can say for certain that Rutgers will not.  But a sub .500 program rocked the basketball world when a video was leaked depicting Mike Rice, the former Rutgers head coach, engaged in what appeared to be abuse of the worst sort of his players.

The video depicts Rice kicking players, grabbing them, throwing basketballs at them and belittling them by referring to them as "fags" and "faggots."  After the video went viral around last Tuesday, the AD fired Rice and then resigned himself.  And it's not over.  The Rutgers faculty has now called for the resignation of the President.  If you want to see what all the fuss is about, look here:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mtf6eWtGWh0 .  Only make sure that you don't play it in the presence of either children or longshoremen.

I'm not naive.  I know stuff happens in the gym and on the practice field.  One of my football coaches used to hit us in the helmet with the heel of his hand when somebody screwed up.  It didn't hurt and it was mainly just loud.  I didn't think much of it then, and oddly enough I don't think much of it now.  And coaches yell.  I certainly got yelled at a lot when I played.  I likewise didn't think much about it then and I don't think about it now.  I actually ran into my high school basketball coach at the cardiology clinic.  He looked like a sick old man.  Nothing like the shirt-grabbing, whistle-throwing, line drill inducing martinet that I knew back in the day.

And I'm not opposed to a coach touching a player.  There's only one way I know to teach somebody how to box out under the glass.  The coach gets the player on his or her back and roots her out.  Back when I coached Little League and Babe Ruth I was a shirt grabber of the first water.  But I never grabbed a shirt in anger and never a fistful.  Just a couple of fingers to get a kid's attention.  I never yelled.  Well, I never yelled much.  If you slung a bat after striking out, you got your ass climbed.  But that was about it.

But the actions depicted on the video show a man that seems to have an anger management problem to the max.  Certainly you shouldn't kick a player.  Certainly, you shouldn't shove them in the back.  And you sure as hell shouldn't call them derogatory names.  Especially in an era where everybody is a potential videographer.

Which brings me to the following thought.  I have heard many people wonder why the players put up with this.  One friend wondered if they tolerated it because they needed their scholarships.  Another wondered if they were engaged in some sort of weird Stockholm Syndrome in which they bonded with their captors.

I have another thought.  Maybe they didn't think it was any big deal.  Indeed, one of the reason that Rutgers didn't fire Wise right of the bat when they it was first made available was because none of the players complained about their treatment.  And some of his former players have come to his defense.  Further, I'm sure that Rutgers videotaped most of their practices.  Most teams do.  And so if the video that got leaked is an example of how Mike Rice typically ran a practice as is alleged, surely there are other similar incidents preserved for posterity.  Rice wouldn't have taped himself in action if he thought he was doing something wrong.  Nobody's that stupid.

Still, when you belittle people, you are in essence reducing them to an object.  This is what abusers do.  An institution of higher learning would not tolerate this behavior in the dorm.  It sure as hell isn't going to tolerate it from one of its employees just because he makes a lot of money.

But I wonder.  Would Rutgers have canned Mike Rice if we had won 20 games?  Bobby Petrino supposedly lit players and coaches up routinely when he coached at Arkansas.  If he hadn't hired his girlfriend he might still be up there.  He may have been an exceedingly unpleasant person to be around but he won football games.  That's all that matters.

New Hog head coach Bret Bielema certainly won big at Wisconsin brandishing a tough, hard nose approach to football.  And yet he told the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette that his approach to handling players is "Praise loudly and criticize softly."

Sounds like a good plan.  Because somewhere a camera is always rolling.

My Easter Feeling

It is Holy Saturday as I type this.  And the Ku Klux Klan is scheduled to march in Memphis.  Seems the historians and scholars that make up the particular diocese of the North Carolina Klansmen that bought the parade permit are hot under the hood over the City of Memphis' plan to rename all of the parks there that are named for the Confederacy or for its heroes.  Thus, Nathan Bedford Forrest Park will get renamed after Larry Finch or something more politically correct.

I view this sort of historical revisionism as particularly silly.  I remember when Confederate Boulevard here got named something else lest visiting dignitaries to the Clinton Library get their sensibilities ruffled.  Never mind that Confederate troops actually camped over by where the Little Rock National Cemetery is situated where the former Confederate Boulevard once ran.  And it's not like Memphis doesn't have bigger problems.  But this is the kind of bullshit political issue that is easy to do.  Like the Arkansas legislature passing blatantly unconstitutional bill after bill instead of dealing with the expansion of Medicaid.  And another thing.  Rewriting history can get out of control really quick.  Ask George Orwell.

Problems, being problems, are sometimes hard to resolve.  Obsessing over the names of parks and handguns is easy.  But look at the problem they got in the Bluff City now. Bet they didn't see that one coming.  As of this writing, the Boys in the Hood claim they are bringing "thousands."  The law enforcement presence at the rally is predicted to be "massive."  And the usual peaceful counter-protesters will be there in uneasy symbiosis with the certain unbidden presence of gang bangers which exist in abundance in Shelby County.

All of this ugliness on the day before Easter.

I know that this is romantic nonsense but there is a time and a place for everything.  Even for rabble-rousing by morons.  This couldn't keep until NEXT Saturday?  As I have written before, I don't believe in much of anything anymore.  But I believe in Easter.  I believe in the message that redemption is possible and available.  And that victory remains in love.  It is hard to square that message of peace and love with the High Drama that is scheduled for Downtown Memphis, an area of square footage that has known its fair share of racial strife.

But, as I said, to wish otherwise is romantic nonsense.  The world doesn't stop for Easter.  There are wars and rumors of wars.  There is violence upon women and children.  There are way too many people who don't know where their next meal is coming from or who don't have access to adequate medical care.  And conversely Easter can't stop all of that.

And it won't stop what may go down in Memphis.

Now, if the weather over there is as nasty as it is here, maybe their cross won't ignite.  After all, we are not exactly dealing with folks that are all that widely read in thermodynamics.  Maybe the Imperial Wizard, Grand Wazoo or whatever equally fatuously entitled person who has dominion over these idiots will call the rally on account of rain.  Maybe they will all catch colds after marching around in their wet Klan drag.  They got it comin'.

But it is my hope that the Klan marches around, spews their sub-literate venom and crawls back under their respective rocks over at the pool halls and parts stores back home from whence they came.  It is my hope that nobody is injured, least of all the cops that will be there to protect the Klan as they exercise their Constitutional rights to be bigots and fools.  God Bless their underpaid little hearts.

Then maybe we can get back to Easter.  Where victory remains in love.

Programme Note

No MSF this weekend.  Between the NCAA Tournament, having to prepare an outline for a CLE presentation that I found out Friday is due Monday and working on pictures, I ain't got time.

Talk among yourselves.

My Sunday Feeling

No matter what your religious persuasion might be, one would have to concede that the election of a Pope is a really big deal.  As my Baptist preacher buddy Randy said at lunch the other day, "He's a head of state and the spiritual leader of over a billion people world-wide.  What the Pope does affects us all if only indirectly."

How could it not?

My interest in the events since Pope Benedict retired, which was completely amazing in and of itself, is not just because I enjoy history or because I have many Catholic friends.  It's a lot more personal than that.

Despite being a Methodist, I somehow wound up with a Catholic Godson. Or he wound up with me. Neither one of us had much say in the matter as I recall.  Anyway, I promised at his baptism that if the unthinkable happened and I wound up in charge of Sam's spiritual guidance and welfare I would "raise him Catholic" as the old saying goes.  And so I have to pay attention to what's going down over to the One True Church Apostolic and Universal in the improbable event that random laughing chance hands me the keys.

I wondered what Sam was thinking when the white smoke went up.  I'm sure that they watched it at school as it would be a very big deal over at Holy Souls.  Sam is 11 or so.  So he is not a Catholic by persuasion.  He just is.  Indeed, as I know the kid his persuasions are limited to pizza, soccer and messing with his younger brother.

But I wonder if he found it quaint that the world was informed of a new Pope by smoke instead of a tweet.  Or if he detected the irony in the Vatican using technology to jam cell phone and other transmissions from both into and out of the conclave but still made the announcement by igniting something.

I wondered if it struck him as odd that the selection of the successor to Saint Peter was picked by mostly elderly, mostly European, men.  Looking at the process with my Methodist eyes, it strikes me as amazing that half of the workforce of the human race, and I am talking now about women, have no say in the selection of the leader of the Universal Church.

Sam's world will be one that is more pluralistic than even mine is.  It will be even more driven by technology and science, 2 areas in which the Roman Catholic church has not particularly distinguished itself historically speaking.

Further, to some of my Catholic friends, the Vatican is as out of touch with Catholic life on the streets as is Washington in the secular realm.  And how will an older man, as holy and humble as Francis seems to be, but nonetheless selected from a subset of other older men, continue to make the church relevant to Sam's sisters?

The new Pope seems to be committed to the "preferential option for the poor" as they say.  Francis is said to be an unassuming sort.  He took public transportation back home in Buenos Aires.  He prepared his own meals.  After being elected Pope he went and paid his hotel bill and retrieved his own luggage, for God's sake.

And yet the new Pope has a lot on his plate.  Secularism is on the rise in the church's European back door.  Indeed the European Union is high pissed at the Vatican Bank, whose finances and "records"are cloaked in secrecy.  The tragedy of child abuse at the hands of the clergy still lingers.  The ranks of the priesthood and the "peoples religious" are shrinking.  How will the church engage with Islam?  Gay folks ain't going away.  Neither are women.

That's a lot for a man in his seventies to unpack. Will Pope Francis bring about the reforms many in the Church feel are required to insure its continued relevance?  Will he bring it into this century?  It will be interesting to watch.

Sam and I need to get some ice cream at Leo's and talk about this here new Pope.  I'd like to know what he thinks.

Because of the promise I made at Sam's baptism, I got skin in the game.  I have to pay attention.

Good luck, Your Holiness.  You will need it.  But for what it's worth, Sam and his Methodist Godfather are pulling for you.

My Sunday Feeling

" If you are a Christian, and you believe God's Word, then our beliefs would be the same."
                                                                        Arkansas State Senator Jason Rapert, R-Bigelow

" Do I believe in infant baptism?  Believe in it?  I've seen it done."
                                                                        Roy Blount Jr.

I guess I don't read the same Bible that Jason Rapert reads, although I forthrightly concede that I don't read the Good Book as often as I should and certainly don't read it as often as the pious senator from Faulkner County.  And while I have my own thoughts and beliefs about God's Word, my beliefs are different than Rapert's.  Conversely, there's lot of folks that subscribe to beliefs different than mine.  I don't have any problem thinking of them as Christians.

My Catholic friends believe that Mary's body was assumed into Heaven.  Well, the Church believes that.  I know lots of Catholics who don't.  Anyway, they also believe that the bread and wine at Holy Communion literally becomes the body and blood of Jesus upon consecration by the priest.  I don't believe that.  I'm a Christian.  They are Christians.  But our beliefs are not the same.

According to his page on the Ledge's website, Mr. Rapert is a Baptist.  All kidding aside, Baptists do not believe in the practice of baptism of infants.  The Catholics, the Methodists, the Episcopalians, the Greek Orthodox, the Lutherans all baptize babies.  And I'm pretty sure that the Presbyterians do as well.  I apologize if I left anybody out.  All Christians that believe God's Word.  And yet their beliefs are not the same.

Speaking of baptism, the Mormons baptize the dead which logistics require be done by proxy seeing as how the dead are, well, not here to immerse or otherwise lay hands on.  Nobody else does that as far as I know.  Still, the Mormons read God's Word along with a supplement which is, at least to my mind, of dubious provenance.  And while only the least charitable among us would refuse to believe that Mormons are Christians, yet again we must concede that our beliefs are not the same.

I don't believe that glossolalia, or "speaking in unknown tongues" is a sign of the Holy Spirit.  Neither do I believe in handling serpents.  I don't believe in the so-called "prosperity Gospel."  I don't believe in faith healing.  At least not during revivals.  I don't subscribe to Christian Science although they put out one hell of a newspaper.  All of these folks fervently believe that they are Christians, they read God's Word, and yet their beliefs are not the same.

By now you can probably guess where I am going with this.  But at the risk of tedium, these are all examples of plurality of religious views and practices of folks that I am willing to bet think they are every bit the Christians that Jason Rapert thinks he is.

The larger point is that it seems that a humble and thoughtful person would be hesitant, if not outright reluctant, to believe that his or her position on a political issue is superior to others because he is following "God's Word" in light of the plurality of religious beliefs held by other perfectly good folks.

But some people cannot resist the temptation to confuse their agenda with that of a higher purpose in the universe.  It is odious enough when such egotism and hubris is confined to the pulpit.  It is even worse when it turns into social policy some of which flies completely against the rule of constitutional law.

But, hey, don't blame Rapert.  His side is winning.  They have the votes to transport the State of Arkansas back to the Fifties socially and by God, they are going to do it if they can get away with it.  And some states are even worse.  Which provides but scant comfort to those of us living in these latitudes.

Maybe the quote above reflects Rapert's occasionally inarticulate ways.  But maybe it doesn't.  Maybe he thinks that there is only one Christian position and that he is the Lord's instrument of that position.

Then he needs to be medicated.  Which he can afford since he, unlike many of his fellow Arkansans that are also Christians and believe God's Word, has government subsidized health insurance.

My Sunday Feeling

No MSF tomorrow.  Between Governor's School Auditions, pictures tomorrow morning and out-of-town guests tomorrow afternoon, there's no time for blogging.  Will be back soon.

Talk amongst yourselves until I get back.

My Sunday Feeling

Part of rendering competent legal advice is to give the client an unvarnished opinion of the merits of the case. Now, if the case has no merit, based on the facts or the law, the lawyer ought to advise the client of this and refuse to take the case.  However, let's say that the case is a little shaky, but of some technical merit.  The lawyer should so advise and educate that client on the pitfalls of litigation.  Let's go on to say that the client is high-pissed at his potential adversary or that he wants to sue as a matter of principal.  This does happen from time-to-time.  Then the lawyer would say "Fine.  My fee is x per hour and I require x as a retainer."

At this point the client has skin in the game.  He can decide if he wants to fight all the way through to the Papal Courts, compromise or dismiss.  As I used to tell folks all the time, "It's not my case.  It's your case.  I am happy to tell you what I think about your case.  But it IS your case."  A person can be as angry and/or as principled as his or her wallet can stand. Because under these facts, the client has skin in the game.  It's his case.

Hence, my thumbnail definition of "unscrupulous" (which I suppose is as good a handy antonym to the word "principled") is to knowingly embark on conduct that is legally dubious and for which you expect others to pay for its defense.

By that working definition, the Republican majority in the Arkansas State Legislature is unscrupulous.  They are also wastrels.

It passed two bills regarding abortion.  One bill restricts abortion after 20 weeks.  The other after 12.  Now, regardless of your personal opinion or religious persuasion, the fact of the matter is that the 12 week bill is patently and utterly unconstitutional under years of case law. The 20 week bill at least has at least one lower court case to recommend it but is otherwise suspect.  The sponsors of these bills have been so advised.  Further, the weight of the medical testimony was that these issues were more complicated than the legislation comprehends and that these decisions are best left to a woman and her doctor.

No matter.  These men, and they are mostly men, took no heed of such sensible advice and passed the legislation evidently hoping,  despite the weight of the case law against their position, to thread the needle somewhere and to find a court to rule in their favor.  Or even better, in the ultimate fantasy, revisit Roe vs. Wade.

And they will defend it to the hilt, dear taxpayer, on our nickle.  They have no skin in the game.  They are unscrupulous.  Even if we assume that their constituents approve of these bills, as well they may, how many of these folks approve of the wholesale waste of taxpayer money in the defense of draconian and legally indefensible legislation?  And even if their constituents approve shouldn't cooler heads prevail?  Are there no other issues than this?

Well, of course there are.  One bill got introduced that would prohibit the Feds from enforcing gun laws in the State of Arkansas on account of the notion that it would violate the 2nd Amendment rights of Arkansans.  First of all there is no Court anywhere that has said that the 2nd Amendment prohibits the regulation of guns.  Zero.  Zip.  But this aspect of the legislation is not unconstitutional.  It is merely stupid.  What makes it unconstitutional is that it violates the Supremacy Clause of the Constitution.

The gentleman that introduced this foolishness somehow passed the Bar exam.  When confronted with legitimate worries about the expenditure of tax dollars defending such patently frivolous legislation he manned up and offered to defend the State on a pro bono basis.  Two problems with this offer.  One, he ain't the Attorney General of Arkansas and Two, who would testify on behalf of his bill if he was the lawyer?

I sometimes think that the folks that come up with this nutbar stuff are not so much complete fools although some of them surely are.  I think some of them don't believe any of this.  But when-not if-their laws are struck down, then they can tell their constituents that at least they tried to uphold "family values" only to be thwarted by an "activist judge."  And the folks back home will believe it.

The old saying is that "men go mad in packs."

And that's a lot easier to do when you don't have skin in the game.

My Sunday Feeling

The Internet is a wonderful thing.  I can't imagine practicing law without it.  It has transformed literature and photography.  It has made the world a flatter and smaller place.  It has forever changed the way the financial markets work.

Unfortunately, it has also given loons and cranks a platform unique in human history from which to spout propaganda. Which can get around pretty quickly. A recent example popped up last week on Facebook.  Naturally.

A friend of mine posted a story on her page that stated that recently retired Pope Benedict is to meet with the President of Italy on February 23rd in order to seek immunity from prosecution for the sex scandals that have plagued the Roman Catholic Church in recent years.  You can read about it here: http://itccs.org/2013/02/14/pope-benedict-to-seek-immunity-and-protection-from-italian-president-giorgio-napolitano-on-february-23/

Immediately, other posters commented that they knew there had to be a "real" reason why the Pope retired other than the fact that his stated reason that he is too old and frail to continue in the discharge of his duties. They "just knew it."

Naif that I am, I took it at face value.  He's 85.  He watched, along with a saddened world, the dreadful deterioration of John Paul II, his predecessor in the office.  It is said he that he wanted to spare the church from having to go through such an ordeal with him.  He will retire to an apartment in the Vatican were he says he will be "unseen by the world."

Granted, this is the first time in 600 years that a Pope has resigned.  But there is precedent and procedures for it, even if they haven't been taken off the shelf since antiquity.  And I certainly had no reason to believe that his reasons for retiring were other than as stated.  I had no reason because I had no reason.  That, and because I am a Methodist, I had no particular theological skin in the game and didn't much care.

But to the conspiracy theorist, there is no such thing as a simple explanation.  And the Catholic Church has been the fodder for much nutbar rumination over the years.  Indeed, I have a friend who will not mention the Society of Jesus-the Jesuits-for fear that he might be abducted or something.  I think he is serious.

And so while this story went viral on every other crackpot website in cyberspace, I noticed that it was not mentioned in any other mainstream publication that I perused.  I looked at the New York Times and Chicago Tribune due to the large Catholic population in each town.  Nothing.  I looked at the Washington Post which covers diplomatic issues.  Nada.  I checked out Reuters.  Zip.

So I decided to check out Rev. Kevin Annett, the Secretary of the grandly named International Tribunal into Crimes of Church which issued the story.  Here's what the United Church of Canada, which defrocked  Annett said about him in 2010:

"Kevin Annett resigned his position as minister of St. Andrew's United Church in Alberni, British Columbia in writing when faced with questions about his competence for ministry... For more than a decade Mr. Annett has repeatedly made disparaging public statements which verge on defamation about a number of United Church officials and members who were also involved in the process that led to his name being placed on the discontinued list."

Now, Pope Benedict may well have a meeting lined up with Italy's President next week.  But I doubt that the subject of immunity will come up.  Why?  Because, according to a story eventually published by Reuters on February 15, as long as the Pope lives in the Vatican he will be immune from prosecution due to the Lateran Pacts between Italy and the Holy See in which Vatican City is recognized as a sovereign state.

But there is another reason why the Church wants him there instead of, say, back in his native Germany or Branson even.  They don't want pilgrimages of the faithful to any other place Benedict might be in residence.  Which is, interestingly enough, the same reason why Osama Bin-Laden was buried at sea.  It is for irony of this magnitude that I do indeed live.

So, it appears that the reason for this meeting with the President of Italy, if there really is to be a meeting, is to discuss something other than the Pope's immunity.  Which means Mr. Annett , and his "International Tribunal" which nobody will confuse with the Hague, is likely making stuff up.  Or, to give him the benefit of the doubt, perhaps he is guided by voices.

Now, I strongly suspect that my friend posted this foolishness in order to stir the pot.  She is not above engaging in this sort of suspect commerce from time to time.

Be that as it may, this is another useful example of the fact that much of what goes out on the Internet is posted by lunatics or people who have, shall we say, a negotiable relationship with the truth.  And just because it is repeated often or otherwise confirms one's own beliefs or prejudices doesn't make it "true."

The resignation of Pope Benedict is a historic event.  But sometimes there really are simple explanations for historic events.

Unless, of course, the Jesuits are involved.

My Sunday Feeling

One of my best friends lost his Father-in-Law the other day.  They are a Roman Catholic family.  And so, I went to the Rosary Friday night and I attended the funeral Mass yesterday at Our Lady of Holy Souls which is right down the street from me.  Now, I've never made any particular secret of my fondness for the Catholic faith despite my disagreement with some of the teachings of the Church.  I used to be a cantor for the Cathedral downtown.  I can still easily sing a Mass.  And while the recent changes in the Liturgy still throw me occasionally, I still pretty much remember the formula for the Rosary.  Although I don't do it as much as I used to, I think it does me some good to hear Mass now and again, just like it does me some good to visit my Episcopalian friends or to hear my Baptist golf buddy preach.

I got an odd text message Saturday afternoon from a fellow Methodist whose ex-wife is Catholic and who also attended the funeral Mass.  

" You weren't taking Communion today were you?"

Well, no.  I wasn't.  But as has been my practice for years , I get in line with those that are.  I cross my arms when I get to the Priest or Eucharistic Minister to indicate that I am not eligible to receive Communion.  I get a blessing instead.  Which I received yesterday.  When I returned to my pew I noticed that other folks received blessings as well.

I never thought anything of it until today.  I always sit with friends when I go to Mass.  Nobody has ever had a word with me about it.  Indeed, yesterday I sat with my friend Ann.  She didn't ask me what the heck I thought I was doing when I got in the receiving line just as she has never done before in all the years I've gone to Mass with her or her family.  And if anybody would instruct me on this issue it would be her husband who is more Catholic than the Kennedys.

So I decided to look into it.  Because somebody must have thought I was out of line or the story about me going up to the altar wouldn't have made it to my friend who texted me.

Turns out the practice of bestowing blessings at Communion is kind of controversial.  I ran across rollicking discussions concerning the practice on any of a number of websites.  The argument against it is that the Vatican does not authorize any departure from the formula of the Mass.  There is no need for any other "blessing" than the Benediction at the conclusion of the service and Protestants along with any Catholics that are not in full communion with the Church for some reason can receive it at that time.

Some posters are quite indignant about it, as they view it as the further debasement of the Liturgy, a "feel good" practice to make all seem included without any authority.  As one Priest who posted on one of the cites said, " When someone comes up to me with their arms crossed over their chest I just say, 'May Christ be in your heart' and let it go at that.  I don't make any gesture with my hand.  I mean, I'm glad to see people in church and I want to acknowledge their presence but I don't think anything else is proper."  Indeed, this is the reason that the confirmation class leaves the service after the homily.  They are not eligible for anything else until they are Confirmed on Holy Saturday.  Indeed, I have seen the candidates for Confirmation sent back to class many times.  Never knew why until yesterday.

The argument for it, well, there's really no argument for it, is along the lines of "Oh c'mon.  Ours is supposed to be a welcoming faith.  And there's not a Priest in business that won't bless an infant in his mother's arms when she takes Communion.  What's different about an adult?"

I don't see what the big deal is.  I know that the Sacraments of the Church are only available to its members and I completely respect that.  I don't cross myself and I kneel if my back feels up to it.  But going up to the altar with my Catholic friends makes me feel more of a part of the service. That is my one indulgence for lack of a better word and is a really bad pun if you know your church history.  And like I said, I never once have been asked to keep my seat so it never occurred to me that I was remotely doing anything disrespectful.

But then again, the United Methodist Church doesn't require me to be "all in."  The Catholic Church does require that of its members.  I'm not all in.

But it doesn't matter if it's not a big deal to me.  If I gave given needless offense to one person in the congregation at Holy Souls yesterday that's one person too many.  I respect my Catholic friends too much to run that risk.  I will put money in the plate, sing their mostly terrible hymns and exchange the Peace with the folks around me in alter John Wesley.

But I will just wait until the end of Mass to receive my blessing from here on out.  It's just easier this way.  Because I'm not all in.

My Super Bowl Sunday Feeling

I didn't plan to write about the Super Bowl.  I had originally planned to write about the current War on Women being waged by the mostly white, mostly Republican, and mostly men in the Arkansas legislature.  I had also planned to touch on the fact that, should Governor Mike Beebe actually sign this travesty into law, you will now be able to carry a concealed weapon in your particular house of worship, if a) you have a permit and b) if your church allows it.

Now I can't imagine any church that will allow people to pack heat within its sacred walls.  Wait. I take that back.  I can think of a couple.  They are West of me.  And they are VERY big.  Guess for yourself.

But the prospect of writing about how Arkansas has transported itself back in time to around 1957 after a couple of roll call votes was so depressing that I couldn't bring myself to do it.  So, I deleted my first sentence and shifted gears.

I will watch the damn thing with some friends down the road.  It is an occasion to eat and drink and see if the actual game is worth watching although some folks watch it for the commercials if for no other reason.  And truth of the matter be known, I am less of an NFL fan nowadays than I ever was.  And I never was much of one unless the Saints were playing.

Let's face it.  Professional football is just too damn dangerous.  Even with the recent rule changes designed to eliminate the shot to the head or the blow to the defenseless runner or receiver, the game is a blood sport.  And you don't need to have uncovered a bounty system as the Saints were alleged to have run to know that. Just look at the injury reports after each week.  Guys don't just get hurt.  They get maimed.  And given the warrior mentality of the average NFL player, they will play through an injury that would put a baseball player on the shelf for a month.

And the certain knowledge of that has eroded my enjoyment of the sport.

At this point, I would almost argue that boxing is generally safer than pro football.  Granted, getting hit in the head is widely considered to be deleterious to the recipient's health and well being.  But at least in boxing, as well as wrestling, martial arts and MMA, the contestants are in the same weight class.  When you have a 300 pound man that can do a 4.5 forty bearing down on a quarterback who may not be even looking, well, this is what us sportswriters call a mismatch.  Or a pulling guard on a sweep.  Or a gunner barrelling down on a punter.  To paraphrase Bill Clinton at the Democratic Convention, "It's physics."  Guys are getting bigger and faster.  Someday, somebody is going to get killed out there.  Really.

But the game will be worth watching if only for the reason that it will herald the certain retirement of sanctimonious criminal  Ray Lewis who has recently been accused by his former trainer of being on a banned substance to speed the rehab of his torn bicep.  I believe it.  Ray Lewis was at least complicit in an incident in a nightclub in which a man was killed.  He pleaded out to a charge of obstruction of justice in exchange for his testimony and he settled with the victim's family.

So any suggestion that a guy with this kind of a history wouldn't dabble in an undetectable banned substance in order to play in another Super Bowl in his final season doesn't pass the laugh test.  There is no doubt in my mind that this is true.  But who cares?  Good riddance Ray.  Take your antler powder and hit the bricks.

On a happier note, the two teams are coached by the Harbaugh brothers, Jim and John, who both seem to be genuinely nice guys.  This is refreshing when you consider a league that produces assholes like Rex Ryan and Bill Belichick.  And their brother-in-law is the head basketball coach at Indiana.  How cool is that?

But I could be wrong about the Harbaughs.  They could be jerks.  God knows we should now be less willing to suspend disbelief about our sports figures in light of the recent revelations that yes, Lance Armstrong really did lie through his goddamn teeth all those years about his use of PEDs and that no, Manti Te'o lied but briefly about his nonexistent dead girlfriend.  Nonexistent in that she was never a life-in-being but was rather the altar ego of a love struck gay man back in Hawaii.  You can't make this stuff up.

But, mercifully, let's go back to the game.  I predict the 49ers by 3.  Their offensive line is better and Joe Flacco should thank his lucky stars that he didn't get intercepted on that 4th quarter drive against the Broncos.  But who knows?

By the way, next year's Super Bowl will be played in the Meadowlands in New Jersey.  I predict that the freezing fans at that game will wonder who among the NFL brass thought playing there was a good idea.

A final thought.  Until last week, I didn't even know what a transvaginal probe was.  Now it occurs to me that the Super Bowl logo resembles one.

And for that I thank the Arkansas State Legislature for putting such thoughts in my head.

My Sunday Feeling

Just when you think that you have heard everything, something comes along to prove you wrong.  By now everyone has heard the story of Lennay Kekua, Notre Dame linebacker Manti Te'o's non-existent dead girlfriend.  The one who allegedly died on the same day that his grandmother did, thereby providing him with the inspiration to give his all for the Fighting Irish who finished undefeated in the regular season.  Which earned them the right to get annihilated by Alabama.

Both Manti and the brass at ND knew that he was the subject of an elaborate and exceedingly cruel hoax prior to the Alabama debacle.  Manti knew about it on December 6, prior to the Heisman Trophy presentation ceremony.  Notre Dame was informed of the hoax on December 26.  But nobody said anything about it until Deadspin.com broke the story on January 14th.  Then all hell broke loose.

There isn't an aspect of this story that is not completely baffling.  Why would somebody perpetrate such an elaborate con job that apparently was not extortionate in any respect?  How does one have a relationship with someone by phone and Internet and yet never meet them?  How could a big man on campus like Manti not have other female friends?  Maybe he does, but I haven't heard of any.  Indeed, it is remarkable how little you are hearing from anybody in South Bend about any of this.  Even creepier, we now know that the person providing the voice of Lennay was occasionally a man speaking in falsetto.

I am a tenor.  Practically an alto.  I don't think I could convincingly impersonate a woman's voice if I wanted to.  Secondly, I like to think that I could discern between 2 different speaking voices with relative ease.  He really couldn't tell them apart?

I really don't have a clue.  Out of uniform, Manti certainly comes across as extremely naive.  But my God.  I was young and naive once.  I can't imagine getting sucked into something as bizarre as this.  ESPN's Scott Van Pelt has opined that maybe the young man "just isn't good with girls" as some guys aren't that he preferred a long distance relationship.  There have been hints that maybe Manti is gay and that Lennay was a convenient "beard" while he was in the spotlight in the uber-macho world of sports.  Who knows?

Here's what I think.  I think he stuck to the story even though he knew by December 6 that Lennay was no more real than Wonder Woman because it had become bigger than him.  Perhaps he was afraid to confess that he had been played for a fool, or a rube as he was referred to by Smoking Gun, while he was still in the running for the Heisman and while his team had at least a theoretical possibility of being crowned National Champs.

What is less understandable is why Notre Dame didn't insist that he go public as soon as it was informed of the hoax.  But then again, this is Notre Dame.  Where George Gipp never asked the team to win for him, Knute Rockne didn't have a sick child and the Rudy story is mostly bullshit.  As Chicago sports columnist Rick Telander said about this whole mess," This whole thing is so nutsy that I believe it only could have happened at Notre Dame, where mythology trumps common sense on a daily basis.  Given the choice between reality and fiction, Notre Dame will always choose fiction."

And maybe that's the explanation.  At Notre Dame mythology trumps common sense.  Which is too bad.  Because young Manti Te'o could have used the intervention of someone with some common sense.

Lord knows he sure doesn't seem to have much.

Sick Leave

I have been struck down by a raging head cold which is suppressing my muse.  Ugh.  Will return after I am released.