Friday, April 25, 2008


I was reminded, on hearing the name of L.M. Alcott, of one of the most traumatic moments of my childhood. That is - reading the conclusion of the lives of those in Little Women: Jo does not marry Laurie. Amy marries Laurie. It took me years to forgive Amy. The brat.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

I am a Catholic Ninja

On entering the art-classroom, I found that on the whiteboard someone had drawn a picture of the pope, including a yelling speech bubble emerging from his mouth that queried "Where are the metal clipboards!?!?!"

Where, indeed?

Pope Benedict XVI was garbed in a knee-length robe, with a wide, lacy collar - his skinny legs emerging and ending in appropriately shiny red shoes (and now, whenever I see his fashionable red-shoes, I shall think of the Wizard of Oz). Atop his head was the Mitre that singled him out at pope.

It all seemed just a bit inappropriate, however, and liable to garner ridicule. So I casually sauntered up the whiteboard and...erased the mitre, while the teacher was speaking in another part of the room!

The resulting image did not look like the pope.

-Mission accomplished-

*Cue Mission Impossible Theme Music*

Dun dun de duuun duuun.

(Can life get more exciting than that? I don't think so!)

Thus I refute.

The director of RoboCop writes a book "refuting" the Virgin Birth. It makes the headlines on CNN! What does his book rely on? Realism!

What prompted this "realistic" look is no doubt the author's consideration of how babies are made and what it takes to make 'em - the biological approach.

Which overlooks the divine: if you make the claim that God is all-powerful, creator of galaxies, the universe, heaven and earth, angels, the porpoise and the fruit bats, of man (good ol' lovely men!) - fashioned in His own image and likeness, then...well... the author's saying "but let's be *realistic* about how babies come to be" is missing the point by just a teeeny tiiiiny gigaaaantic bit.

Ave Maria! Ave! Ave! Ave!