Wednesday’s Child: Base Notes
I am not writing this on pagan Lemuria or on what to the Catholics in Italy is Ognisanti, in other words, on All Saints’ Day, but apparently on what is now a Russian state holiday called Bailiffs’ Day.
I am not writing this on pagan Lemuria or on what to the Catholics in Italy is Ognisanti, in other words, on All Saints’ Day, but apparently on what is now a Russian state holiday called Bailiffs’ Day.
Stephen has talked me into another pop culture series, this one on Western movies. Each of us will pick perhaps 6 movies to discuss, alternating classics chosen by me and post-1960 junk chosen by Stephen “the kid” Heiner. My entirely objective and non-judgmental language here anticipates the tenor of the discussion. The question for me, and perhaps also for Stephen, is: Which movies to pick?
The U. S. generals are huffing and puffing over Taiwan, making sure the defense companies they soon will be consulting with for millions of dollars get new billion-dollar contracts.
This letter, from Alexander Pope to Francis Atterbury, Anglican Bishop of Rochester, is a coherent and dignified explanation of the poet’s determination to remain a Catholic, despite the renewed persecution of Catholics that took place following the Hanoverian succession. It breathes an air of sweet reason and political sanity that is desperately needed by Americans today, left and right, who seem to plunge into fanaticism on the slightest pretext.
We who have the misfortune of living in Adam Kingizger’s congressional district were delighted to read that this great and virtuous war hero does not have the courage to run for reelection.
Burn’s colorful description of traditional Halloween customs conveys both the eeriness and the wholesomeness of Scottish Halloweens.
I’ve been on many a television or movie set in studios and on location and can say from my experience that when guns are present the prop master, armorer, directors, and actors are on high alert.
Dr. Fleming explains Aristotle’s Political Animal and Rex discovers Polis may not be a city in Poland.
Since the knee surgery of two weeks ago, I have been living in a fog of discomfort and confusion through which, occasionally, a dim light shines with enough brightness to permit me to revise a few pages or post something I have rewritten. I on’t feel terribly guilty about my sloth, but I have decided to share my tedium with others,