Chris Hansen’s blog

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When you’re preaching, or giving any sort of speech, it’s sometimes a bit unclear to you whether you’re actually getting through or not. You can tell a less-then-optimal sermon by the rustling, the murmuring, sometimes even nodding heads. But the way you can tell if your message is being well-communicated is this: when you look around the church, there is no rustling, no murmuring, just people being silent and listening intently. That is the Bingo Moment. During the last few paragraphs of this sermon, I had a Bingo Moment, and afterwards I was complimented by some of the congregation. There is no more precious time for a preacher than to experience a Bingo Moment.

I was very lucky in another way today: the person reading the Jewish Scriptures picked up the wrong reading and read it through. Had I depended upon this reading for my sermon, I would have been a bit put out. I have seen other preachers in the same situation: they simply read the correct reading from the pulpit and ploughed on into the sermon. I’m glad I didn’t have to do that this morning.

November 8, 2009 Remembrance Sunday
Sermon delivered at St. John the Evangelist, 10 am.
Readings: II Samuel 1:17-27; Ps. 23; Revelation 21:1-7; Matthew 5:1-11

In the name of God, the one, the Undivided Trinity. AMEN.

Let me tell you a slightly imaginary tale.

The person in the chair stood to greet me. He had a pleasant smile on his face, and said,

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…and many happy returns of the day.

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…that a friend and his husband have come to London, and made plans to meet HWMBO and me for dinner. Tonight was the night (no time in the rest of their hurried trip).

Then, this morning, I get a text from the husband (whom I don’t know as well as I know my friend) which said, “Let’s meet at 4:30 pm for tea in Chinatown.” Wha? Teh? Hell? I texted back that HWMBO wasn’t available at that time, and could they make dinner at 6:30 pm.

The return text said, “No, we have dinner planned for this evening. 4:30 in Chinatown then?”

I am pondering my reply. I’m minded to just say, “No, that’s too early. See you next time we’re in the same city.” When I called HWMBO to apprise him of this latest development, he said to go ahead without him as I know them better than he does.

But I don’ wanna go.

Will keep you informed.

Mr Quangle Wangle, grant us that

Is this the beginning of a prayer? If so, exactly whose god is “Mr Quangle Wangle”?

Enquiring minds want to know!

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On the whole, I think I’d like to work in this office.

…and many happy returns of the day.

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Those of you who are Tweeters or who keep up with those who Tweet will be aware of yesterday’s little spat between Stephen Fry, the celebrated actor, blogger, nerd, and Tweeter, and another Tweeter, who called his tweets “boring”.

Fry then suddenly bade farewell to Twitter, saying that there was “Too much aggression and unkindness around.” This touched off a firestorm of indignation among many of Fry’s 900,000+ followers, who implored him not to leave, heaped opprobrium on the other Tweeter, and generally roiled the placid waters in which Twitter’s Fail Whale often swims.

The other Tweeter apologised, Fry apologised for his reaction (which was possibly due to his bipolar disorder), and the shitstorm died down.

I am not a celebrity, nor do I play one on TV. This little incident demonstrates the dangers of Twitter and blogging in general for celebrities. Fry has cut down dramatically on the amount of his Tweeting, and I’ll bet a cookie that this incident will cut it down even more. But when he was Tweeting dozens of times per day, and garnering many followers, he got himself a reputation. His followers came to expect witty Wildean aperçus, interesting tidbits of technical lore, and various observations about Fry’s day and the things he gets up to. When the number of tweets from Fry fell, the ones that were left might have seemed a bit pedestrian compared to his more voluminous previous output. Thus, boring.

Observation No. 1: Tweeters and bloggers are under no obligation to entertain, amuse, inform, or titillate readers. If something you’re reading is boring, refrain from making that observation—just go on and read something else.

Observation No. 2: Celebrity Tweeters and bloggers are especially under no obligation mentioned in Observation No. 1. Before the Age of Blogging and Tweeting arrived in the late 1990’s, people’s only usual contact with celebrities was on the stage, screen, TV, or radio, and in the newspapers. Some few may have asked for an autograph, or entered into correspondence for various reasons. But most people never communicated with celebrities. Now, if a well-known person blogs or Tweets they are communicating instantly with perhaps hundreds of thousands of people, and anyone can talk back by producing an @-reply. Within a few years it was possible to see the well-known and famous walking with feet of clay, putting their trousers on one foot at a time, and being as ordinary as you or I. This is not normally a good thing for the famous.

Case in point: the Queen’s breakfast tray has recently been shown in the newspapers. It’s old, the cups and other containers are chipped, and it could be found in almost any of our homes across Britain. The usual opinions about the Queen’s eating habits include references to gold flatware, crystal goblets, and bone china. Discovering that the Queen scoops her muesli out of Tupperware containers removes some of the mystique.

Now, imagine if the Queen were to begin Tweeting…

HMtheQ: The footman has just turned his back on us while leaving the room. We r not amused. What do u think? #rude

HMtheQ: We and Chazza beside ourselves with worry; Harry has turned up drunk saying that Chelsy is expecting. Pics at 11.

HMtheQ: Muesli for our brekker STALE! Heads will roll! #TowerofLondon

HMtheQ: It’s Tues & we have 2 see that awful Scot Gordon Brown AGAIN. If he brags about his prudence 1 mor time we’ll put im in the stocks—MUAHAHAHAHA!

@HMtheQ: UrMaj, all u do iz complain! Ur loyl subjects r fed-up with ur boring tweets. Shut ur piehole, Lizzy!

@HMtheQ: Y don’t u stop ur moaning and go back 2 Krautland with Phil the Greek; we want a real English K & Q: King Beckham the 1st & Queen Vicky!

Hm. Her Majesty’s royal mystique would be pretty well in tatters by the time she picked herself off the Persian rug.

Stephen Fry would be well-advised to limit his tweeting and consider carefully before pressing ENTER.

Observation No. 3: In common with almost all social networking tools Twitterers who are following other Twitterers are said to have “friends”. The abuse of the term “friend” for what is almost always a casual, sometimes imaginary, relationship has confused millions of computer users. I have lots of social networking friends. I have only met a fraction of them. A larger, but still fractional, portion I have corresponded with. So are these and everyone else on my “Friends” list actual “Friends”?

Confusing online “Friends” with real, live friends is a fatal mistake. Friends are people who hold you when you have been bereaved, who visit you in the hospital when you’re sick and whom you visit when they’re sick. Friends are people who mutually can finish each other’s sentences and laugh about it. Friends are people whom you’d give your housekeys to if you needed someone to water your plants while you’re away. Friends are people you can tell about your first love, your most recent love, the love you’re planning to have when the current one is through. Friends are people who help you move out of your former lover’s flat. Friends are, well, FRIENDS!

When someone de-“friends” you it is not a tragedy unless you are meatspace friends with that person and they are de-“friending” you because you are no longer FRIENDS. When you de-“friend” someone you have never met, with whom you have hardly ever interacted, and with whom you have little or nothing in common, it is not the end of the world and you should not hesitate one picosecond.

Final Observation: If one is a celebrity, and one wants to Tweet, one should hand the Twitter account over to one’s publicist, who is probably (not certainly) much better at handling such idle chatter than one is.

Note to my LJ and other friends: I do not mean to denigrate the relationship we have on Live Journal or elsewhere. I read everything, comment on whatever I think is worth commenting on, and want to keep up with your lives, Tweets, and blogs as much as I can. If we ever meet in person, I would be honoured to develop a meatspace friendship with most if not all of you. Until then, our online friendship is precious to me and, I hope to you, but isn’t a personal friendship until it’s validated. Thanks for all the online fun we’ve shared!

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I have occasionally featured in the “Up For Air” column in the Marblehead Reporter, as Fraffie, the columnist, and I are probably long-separated siglings or something. We see eye to eye on almost everything (except she’s a Republican [but not the rabid modern kind] and I’m not).

The column this week featured a Martha Stewart Moment that is priceless.

We all know that Martha has her well-painted fingernails dug into the state of Maine, Mt. Desert Island, to be more specific, where she shopped one day in a small gourmet-food emporium in North East, South West, Bar or one of those harbors, and when at the checkout counter mentioned that she had not see a cherry-pitter on the shelves. The nice clerk apologized and said,

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We are all aware of that old rule of thumb which says that you wait 30 minutes for a bus, then 3 come at once. Well, I’ve had just the opposite happen here at home.

I’m off to a meeting later on this afternoon. Yesterday I filled out an application for a renewal US passport, seeing that it would cost

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1. The badness of a movie is directly proportional to the number of helicopters in it.

2. You will never find anybody who can give you a clear and compelling reason why we observe daylight-saving time.

3. People who feel the need to tell you that they have an excellent sense of humor are telling you that they have no sense of humor.

4. The most valuable function performed by the federal government is entertainment.

5. You should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests you think she’s pregnant unless you can see an actual baby emerging from her at that moment.

6. A penny saved is worthless.

7. They can hold all the peace talks they want, but there will never be peace in the Middle East. Billions of years from now, when Earth is hurtling toward the Sun and there is nothing left alive on the planet except a few microorganisms, the microorganisms living in the Middle East will be bitter enemies.

8. The most powerful force in the universe is gossip.

9. The one thing that unites all human beings, regardless of age, gender, religion, economic status, or ethnic background, is that, deep down inside, we all believe that we are above-average drivers.

10. There comes a time when you should stop expecting other people to make a big deal about your birthday. That time is age 11.

11. There is a very fine line between “hobby” and “mental illness.”

12. People who want to share their religious views with you almost never want you to share yours with them.

13. There apparently exists, somewhere in Los Angeles, a computer that generates concepts for television sitcoms. When TV executives need a new concept, they turn on this computer; after sorting through millions of possible plot premises, it spits out, “THREE QUIRKY BUT ATTRACTIVE YOUNG PEOPLE LIVING IN AN APARTMENT,” and the executives turn this concept into a show. The next time they need an idea, the computer spits out, “SIX QUIRKY BUT ATTRACTIVE YOUNG PEOPLE LIVING IN AN APARTMENT.” Then the next time, it spits out, “FOUR QUIRKY BUT ATTRACTIVE YOUNG PEOPLE LIVING IN AN APARTMENT.” And so on. We need to locate this computer and destroy it with hammers.

14. Nobody is normal.

15. At least once per year, some group of scientists will become very excited and announce that:

• The universe is even bigger than they thought!
• There are even more subatomic particles than they thought!
• Whatever they announced last year about global warming is wrong.

16. If you had to identify, in one word, the reason why the human race has not achieved, and never will achieve, its full potential, that word would be “meetings.”

17. The main accomplishment of almost all organized protests is to annoy people who are not in them.

18. The value of advertising is that it tells you the exact opposite of what the advertiser actually thinks. For example:

• If the advertisement says “This is not your father’s Oldsmobile,” the advertiser is desperately concerned that this Oldsmobile, like all other Oldsmobiles, appeals primarily to old farts like your father.
• If Coke and Pepsi spend billions of dollars to convince you that there are significant differences between these two products, both companies realize that Pepsi and Coke are virtually identical.
• If the advertisement strongly suggests that Nike shoes enable athletes to perform amazing feats, Nike wants you to disregard the fact that shoe brand is unrelated to athletic ability.
• If Budweiser runs an elaborate advertising campaign stressing the critical importance of a beer’s “born-on” date, Budweiser knows this factor has virtually nothing to do with how good a beer tastes.

19. If there really is a God who created the entire universe with all of its glories, and He decides to deliver a message to humanity, He will not use, as His messenger, a person on cable TV with a bad hairstyle.

20. You should not confuse your career with your life.

21. A person who is nice to you, but rude to the waiter, is not a nice person.

22. No matter what happens, somebody will find a way to take it too seriously.

23. When trouble arises and things look bad, there is always one individual who perceives a solution and is willing to take command. Very often, that individual is crazy.

24. Your friends love you anyway.

25. Nobody cares if you can’t dance well. Just get up and dance.

Dave Barry

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Thanks to , here is something you might find professionally useful.

In the middle future, when returning to San Diego, you may encounter a new experience.

Apparently in the great State of New Jersey, there is no law against bestiality. While the State Legislature is busily trying to remedy this omission, the local constabulary has been busy in Moorestown, and a local judge has ruled on the case.

Today’s Great Legal Mind award goes to Judge James Morley, for ensuring that his ruling will live forever.

I have never heard of the “woylie,” which is apparently a small endangered marsupial. I have heard of pythons, and of tracking collars. A story from Western Australia combines all three with hilarious results.

Moral of the story: check to see that the python hasn’t eaten recently before you steal it.

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…they do it somewhat differently in Japan. The vid’s in Japanese, but believe me, you don’t need it. Thanks to for the reference.

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…is on ‘s blog, here. The colour is fantastic.

Well, I seem to have survived both the Fat Doctor and the Foot Doctor.

I arrived at St. Thomas’s Hospital around 9:45 for a 10:10am appointment. I went to the clinic, and stood in a queue behind a gentleman who hadn’t shown up for his appointment and was arguing with the receptionist about making another appointment. She couldn’t do it (because “the computer says ‘Nooooooo…'”) but he didn’t believe her. Finally I checked in and went to sit down and wait for the surgeon.

A short nurse came out and bellowed my name. I followed, and she said, “Take your shoes off to be weighed.” Well, I had my air boot on and that takes a few minutes to remove and the same amount of time to put on. I said, “I can’t take this off; please just weigh me and take off about 2-1/2 kilograms.” She looked at me and barked (and I do mean ‘barked’): “Take your shoes off. Do you want me to lie? Doing that would be lying.”

At that point I was ready to put on my coat and walk out. I said, “Well, I’m not taking this boot off. Do what you like.” She said, “So you refuse to be weighed then.” and wrote that down on the piece of paper. “Sit down.”

I went back to the waiting area ready to explode. Someone sitting behind me went over to the receptionist and complained about a bad smell in the area. For a moment I thought that maybe I hadn’t showered, but it turned out that someone was having a leg ulcer cleaned out in another room and the smell was unpleasant for some. However, I couldn’t smell anything at all.

The short nurse emerged with a spray bottle of air freshener and told people to move to another area to wait. As I couldn’t smell it I stayed put along with one other person. The nurse sprayed the air freshener around and muttered to the other person (I guess that “refusing to be weighed” means that I am a non-person) that we will all smell after we’re dead and the stench was only dead flesh so it was natural. After she toddled off, I looked at the other person and we wondered what planet Nurse Ratchett came from.

The nurse then asked me to come along with her. In passing she opened a door and muttered something I didn’t catch, so I continued to follow her. She rounded on me and said, “I told you to wait in the examining room!” I truly hadn’t heard her. So I went into the examining room and waited for the Fat Doctor (ie, Bariatric Surgeon).

After about 20 minutes he knocked on the door and swept in with an entourage consisting of a dietician and a student. We discussed options and he recommended that my case be presented to the Primary Care Trust for funding. If it is funded, there is then a 3-month wait for the operation. Gastric bypasses have been found to not only help people lose weight, but in type-II diabetics they seem to reduce insulin resistance. There are a few side effects, and I’ll have to eat stuff that’s been liquidised in a blender for a couple of weeks, but I’m willing to do it in pursuit of weight loss and diabetic improvement.

I took the opportunity to mention how rude I thought the nurse had been. The doctor said that he had no problem with weighing me with my boot on, and the dietician took me to the nurse’s station, shooed her out, and weighed me and reduced it by 2-1/2 kg, just as I’d suggested. No problem. They will speak to the nurse.

Off to the bus stop for a 148 to the Elephant and Castle, then change for a 40 to Denmark Hill and Kings for my appointment with the Foot Doctor. As I’d taken my infected foot into my own hands and started taking antibiotics but not called the foot clinic, I was ready for a bollocking from Tim, the cute Diabetic Podiatrist. But when I got there, I said to him, “I’ll tell you what happened last week if you promise not to shout at me.” He smiled and said, “I never shout.” which I can believe. I told him and he said, “Fine! I’ll give you a prescription for two more weeks.

The ulcer on my left foot has significantly reduced in size. There doesn’t seem to be any problem with the right foot at the moment. So, he dressed both feet and I went on my way.

I missed the Centre Drop-In this noon, but decided to have linguini with butter and garlic this evening just to spite the diabetes. I expect I will have high blood sugar tomorrow morning, but I am feeling quite well this evening.

I have two appointments with quacks this morning. The second one is the usual foot appointment. I think I’m going to catch hell because my right foot became infected the day after my last appointment two weeks ago and I just started taking the antibiotics again that they had left me with the last time. This was two weeks ago, and I suspect they’ll be annoyed. Tough. It seems to have worked as the right foot is OK again. I’ll just ask for more antibiotics.

The first appointment is at St. Thomas’s Hospital with the Fat Doctor—Bariatric Surgeon. I am presuming that this will be an initial evaluation to see whether they should pursue some kind of bariatric surgery on me, either a gastric band or a gastric resection. I’m in favour of the latter because of its effects on diabetes is patients who have had the operation. We shall see. I’m a bit nervous about the appointment so I hope it goes well. If he’s anywhere near the attitude of the lipid nurse a month ago, I’m outta there.