The "IIC"

On Christmas day, an islamic terrorist tried to blow up an airplane with over two hundred Americans on it. A Dutch passenger jumped on the terrorist as his explosive charge began to burn. The terrorist was subdued and the bomb fizzled.

Soon thereafter, Janet Napolitano, secretary of homeland security and one of our nation's proud idiots in charge , (hereafter iic - pronounced 'ick' and rhymes with sick), proudly announced that the system had worked.

I guess since the bomb hadn't gone off, she considered it a success.

Of course, she wasn't counting the fact that the terrorist had gotten past various layers of 'security' with explosives in his underpants;

or the fact that he was on the 'watch list' of potential terrorists;

or the fact that the terrorist's own father, an influencial Nigerian, had personally warned several of our iic that he was concerned his son might be up to terrorism against the US of A.

After a day of universal catcalls, derision and laughter, mzz napolitano admitted there was a problem, but claimed she was referring to the process after the 'alleged bomber' was taken into custody when she had said the system worked.

Four days later - yes, four days - our commander in chief of the icc made a public announcement claiming all would be done to get to the bottom of why the "isolated extremist" had been able to do what he did. There will be studies and reports, blah, blah, blah.

Note: an "isolated extremist". Our chief of the icc can't bring himself to utter the word terrorist, much less islamic terrorist.

How sadly, pathetically, gut wrenchingly nauseously the old year ends and the new year begins for the former Republic of the United States of America.

Before wishing you all a Happy New Year, I would like to apologize to those heroes of my childhood - Moe, Larry and Curley - for including their picture at the top of this post thereby implying that they are role models for the iic. Actually, they are the antidote to the icc. A few hammers to the head and pokes in the eye are called for. Where are our heroes when we need them?

Happy New Year and God help us all.

Lukewarm Spit

John Nance Garner, a former vice president of the USA once compared the worth of that office to a bucket of warm spit.

Since he didn't resign, I guess it wasn't too bad. Certainly, any undesirability attached to the position doesn't compare to the repugnance directed by our Lord to the morally wishy-washy using a related image.

As Saint John recounts Jesus' words in Revelation 3:15-16, "So then, because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spit thee out of my mouth."

I thought of this image while reading an e-mail I recently received from a friend. It contained a clever poem, by an unattributed author, seasonal and to the point, a rather sad point at that. It goes like this:

Twas the month before Christmas

When all through our land,

Not a Christian was praying

Nor taking a stand.

See the PC police had taken away

The reason for Christmas - no one could say.

The children were told by their schools not to sing

About shepherds and wise men and angels and things.

It might hurt peoples' feelings, the teachers would say

December 25th is just a 'Holiday'.

Yet the shoppers were ready with cash, checks and credit

Pushing folks down to the floor just to get it!

CDs from Madonna, an X Box, an I-Pod

Something was changing, something quite odd!

Retailers promoted Ramadan and Kwanzaa

In hopes to sell books by Franken & Fonda.

As Targets were hanging their trees upside down

At Lowe's the word Christmas - was no where to be found.

At K-Mart and Staples and Penny's and Sears

You won't hear the word Christmas; it won't touch your ears.

Inclusive, sensitive, Di-ver-si-ty

Are words that were used to intimidate me.

Now Daschle, now Darden, now Sharpton, Wolf Blitzen

On Boxer, on Rather, on Kerry, on Clinton!

At the top of the Senate, there arose such a clatter

To eliminate Jesus, in all public matter.

And we spoke not a word, as they took away our faith

Forbidden to speak of salvation and grace

The true Gift of Christmas was exchanged and discarded

The reason for the season, stopped before it started.

So as you celebrate 'winter break' under your 'holiday' tree

Sipping your Starbucks, listen to me.

Choose your words carefully, choose what you say

Shout MERRY CHRISTMAS,

not Happy Holiday!

Please, all Christians join together and

wish everyone you meet

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Christ is 'The Reason' for the Christ-mas season!

Indeed, even the sole gift of a large lump of coal seems quite desirable compared to being a glob of warm spit cast out from the mouth of Jesus to a place far worse than a slop laden bucket.

Let us pray we find the courage to stand up for the Faith in the coming days and years of spiritual warfare.

And, those days are coming... nay, they are upon us this very moment, as we carve the Christmas turkey.

Laugh or Cry

"Stupidity has a knack of getting its way." Albert Camus

Sometimes you just don't know whether to laugh or cry at the human predicament. While we rant or rave about the deficit and health care reform and the wars in Iraq and Afganistan and the Tiger Wood's soap opera, lives of quiet desperation stumble along through this vale of tears. Like Cormac McCarthy's sheriff said in his novel, No Country for Old Men , "You just can't make this stuff up." This line came to mind the other day as I scanned some headlines from around the world.

Belgium: two would be ATM machine thieves blew themselves up after miscalculating the amount of dynamite needed to do the job;

Russia: a 400 pound thirteen year old died of suffocation after snacking while watching a television special about himself and the plight of obese children.

USA (Florida): A party animal, after imbibing his fair share of the keg, found himself stalled in traffic and in need of relief. Not suffering the embarassment of a shy bladder, he got out of his car, placed a hand on the divder and leaped over to the other side promptly falling sixty feet to his death. No doubt he expected better footing.

Brazil: A thirty-eight year old former Miss Argentina died from gluteoplasty complications. As one of her many admirers lamented, "She lost everything to have a slightly firmer backside."

Ah, the bells, the bells.

Does the wise man laugh when fools cry and cry when fools laugh?

Do we laugh at these fools, or cry for them?

Do we find a place in our hearts for pity?

And what about the fools who would destroy America? They sell our posterity down the river of unimaginable debt to secure the financial support of their co-conspirators and the votes of their imbecilic supporters. They strive for a government run health care system in spite of the abject failure of such systems around the world. They wage 'wars of democracy' in lands where tribal rule has held sway for ten thousand years and the concept of democracy is as appealing as last week's fish. They splash the misadventures of a serial adulterer over the front pages to distract a gullible public from the more important news of how the country is going to hell in a handbasket.

Do we laugh at these fools or cry for them?
Do we demand a Corsican satisfaction?

Do we scream out with Kant, "Let justice be done though the heavens fall", or commiserate with Dostoevsky, who , in exasperation, stammered, "Man, man, one cannot live quite without pity."

It's enough to make a grown man cry...or laugh...

Maybe the only significant question is: does man deserve pity?

Let us hope God thinks so.