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For those of you who have lived in or spent time in New York City, you’ll be familiar with the term “air mail” as it applies to living quarters. Years ago people in upper floors of apartment buildings used to throw their trash directly into the air shaft which was at the centre of most large tenement buildings. I have become the victim of air mail here in London.
For the last few weeks, I have occasionally been finding various trash-like objects in our back garden. Most of them have had to do with diabetes medicine. I found four or five vials of insulin, some specialised needles for insulin injection, some lancets for fingerpricking to test blood for sugar levels, some test strips, and various medical boxes. Originally I had thought that someone was trying to shoot up outside the garden then throwing the debris over the wall. However, this morning I had a thought, and spoke to the people at the housing association. I asked them to check whether the new tenant in flat 3 was a diabetic. The gentleman who lives in flat 5 is a paranoid schizophrenic and has nailed his windows shut. And some of the material that we found was pieces of paper that would be difficult to throw over the wall but easy to drop out a window. They promised to check.
Well, this evening HWMBO was looking out the back door when a banana peel fell directly down in front of him. It did not come over the wall. Thus, the woman in 3 must be dropping trash out her window. I am not keen to have medical waste in my back garden. I shall have to call the housing association tomorrow to report and ask them to tell her to stop.
I’ve decided for various reasons not to blog much on the Democratic primary season this year. Here in England I am relatively isolated from a lot of the news, advertisements, and the nuances that one can catch only if one is actually in the United States.
However, yesterday the primary season was over. Senator Obama is almost certainly the Democratic nominee for President of the United States. So, for the benefit of my non-US readers I’d like to ruminate on party primaries and why they are almost certainly the best way to pick a candidate.
Before 1964, many states, rather than holding free primary elections or caucuses, selected their delegates in a closed party convention. Often these delegates were pledged to a local worthy (often a Senator or Governor). This was normally not a serious bid for the nomination, and everyone knew it. The real reason this was done was to give the state clout in the administration of the eventual nominee if he ended up in the White House. Conventions were rumbustious affairs, with lots of cigar-smoke-filled rooms full of politicos horse-trading convention votes for patronage. This was the case up until 1960, when I believe there were still some of these “favourite son” pledged delegates floating around. They disappeared in 1964 and have not been seen since. When there aren’t any smoke-filled rooms, there’s nothing to trade.
It must be said that some of these conventions before 1964 picked great candidates, some of whom made great Presidents. Truman, FDR, Wilson, to name a few.
Since 1964, we have had Hubert Humphrey, picked by caucus and primary, who had the millstone of LBJ around his neck and lost to Nixon. In 1972 we had McGovern, who lost every state except Massachusetts, and the District of Columbia. We were proud to say “Don’t blame me–I’m from Massachusetts. As a result of this drubbing, superdelegates (various party and elected officials) were added to the mix, so that if the party faithful were fickle enough to support a loser in the primaries the superdelegates could make them see sense and nominate someone who was electable.
Carter was electable in 1976 but not in 1980, when he was drubbed by Reagan. Mondale came to a similar fate in 1984, and Dukakis in 1988 against George Bush the First. Clinton won twice in 1992 and 1996, but Gore lost in 2000 (perhaps, if the hanging chads had hung another way or more Democrats been on the Supreme Court, it might have gone the other way) and Kerry in 2004.
So we get to 2008. The primary season has been the most brutal I can remember in years. Mud-slinging on all sides, bad blood, slips of the tongue that were pretty hurtful, again on both sides. Interference by ministers and priests that embarrassed one candidate so much that he resigned from his church. Echoes of past peccadillos and perhaps current ones on the other side (there’s tabloid news about Bill Clinton spending some time with an actress out west somewhere) tar the other candidate’s brush. The contest comes down to the superdelegates, and one candidate wins only through getting more of them than the other. In the event, the people’s choices over these last few months have been “trumped” or “confirmed” by the superdelegates on their own.
So what to do? Clinton is left with about $20 million in debts and nearly half the delegates. Obama is left with aq huge warchest and more than half the delegates, just. Clinton has not conceded, and Obama is not publicly asking her to, preferring to concentrate on the November election.
So why do I think that the present system of caucuses/primaries is the best way to select a Presidential candidate?
There have been several alternatives proposed. One single national primary, on the same day, in all 50 states and the territories, is something that to foreigners and some Americans, sounds attractive. However, the difficulty with that system would be that no candidate would have a chance to build momentum during the long primary season. No one would be able to slug it out over a months-long set of state campaigns and thus demonstrate that s/he had the staying power and the will to survive the gruelling job of President. Instead we would be left with a French-lite election, with a first and second round. This would also obviate the Federal system of government as states would not be able to exert influence singly or in groups owing to the same-day primary. Candidates would not visit smaller states, preferring to visit larger states at the expense of smaller ones.
Regional primaries have also been proposed. These would group states into regions, with 4 or 5 different primaries on spaces days. This would obviate the momentum exception, but yet again, smaller states in a region would be underwhelmed by candidates, who would spend time in the larger states of a region and depend on overspill from the larger states’ media.
Many of you will know that the writer Jan Morris was originally James Morris. He divorced his wife in 1972 and then had a sex change. However, they continued to live together in Wales, and have now been cohabiting for 58 years.
So this week, on a BBC book program, Jan Morris announced that she was making an honest woman of her former wife. They were joined in a civil union last week.
Now that is the heartwarmingest story of the day.
…comes from Australia, where a TV show seems to have achieved the impossible task of ridding us of rug rats while simultaneously being greener than green.
Most of my Singaporean Live Journal gay friends have seen Sex and the City and loved it. HWMBO and I haven’t seen it yet but as he loves the TV series I expect he’ll love the movie as well. Here’s the story of someone who saw it and had a different reaction.
So might Cardinal George, Archbishop of Chicago, say about the Rev. Michael Pfleger, who has associated himself with Sen. Barack Obama’s campaign for the Democratic nomination for President of the United States. Whispers in the Loggia, probably the pre-eminent Roman Catholic blogger in the United States if not the world, has a long story and comment on the situation. It boils down to Cardinal George asking Father Pfleger to take a short (3 week) leave of absence to reflect on the controversy and how to dampen it down. Pfleger is a long-time activist in the poor neighbourhood of Chicago in which he works, and is a self-admitted thorn in the side of every archbishop of Chicago he meets. But the key to the mystery is this: he has been pastor of St. Sabina’s Parish since 1981. That’s 27 years, folks.
People may say that term-limits for priests serving in parishes (and I do not exclude Anglican parishes from this) are unfair. However, having a priest serve in one parish for 27 years is unhealthy for the priest, unhealthy for the parish, and can cause a lot of upset in the diocese.
Fr. Pfleger is only 57 years old, He has 18 years of active service in the ministry before he must retire. He should move to another parish and concentrate on helping his new flock to become closer to God. His current parish is rumbling about protests against his leaving. He should quickly ask people to accept that he will not be there forever and to help him and his successor, rather than become angry about a possible reassignment.
There may be trouble ahead…
I know that people often say that a newborn baby looks like the father, or the mother, but this is ridiculous!
…and many happy returns of the day.
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Last night I was advanced into Mark Masonry at Mark Masons Hall on St. James Street in Piccadilly, right across the street from St. James Palace.
The ceremony was to begin at 5 pm, so I arrived at around 4:15 pm to ensure that the Lodge Secretary didn’t have a panic attack–the worst fear of every Lodge officer is that a candidate won’t show up or will show up late. When I got there, the Tyler told me to go to the bar and come down at 5:10 pm, as the Lodge members were in their Royal Ark Mariners meeting and they would not be ready for me until then.
The building is a former gentlemen’s club that fell on hard times and was bought by the Mark Masons Charity and leased to the Grand Lodge of Mark Masonry. The Mark degree itself is only about 150 years old or so, and carries on from the Fellowcraft Degree. The candidate acts as one of the stonemasons working on King Solomon’s Temple, and presents his work to the overseers for acceptance. What else happens is not for me to say, as any future Mark Masons would find themselves shortchanged if I were to tell them. Suffice it to say that it’s a fun degree and well worth taking if you are a Master Mason.
The bar of this former gentleman’s club is on the second floor of the building, and is quite opulent in a Masonic way. Lots of wood panelling, stencilled wall paper, and portraits of dead Grand Masters and various Grand Whatevers of side orders, many of which meet in Mark Masons’ Hall. I sat up there rather nervous and surveyed the mostly elderly gentlemen, some in very purple waistcoats (which must be a uniform for some side order or other), and some young men (one at least pinged my gaydar pretty heavily). I sipped a Diet Coke and waited for 5:10 to arrive.
When I got downstairs, I signed the book and got myself ready (in my Master Mason apron). When I was finally admitted into lodge, I was astonished to discover that most of the officers were reading the ritual from books, instead of delivering it from memory, as I am accustomed to see in Lodges everywhere. The ritual was a bit disconcerting as people addressing me were actually looking at their books, rather than looking me in the eye. I was assured later that this is exceptional and happened because the Worshipful Master was not good at memorising and several people had been press-ganged into doing various offices with which they were not familiar.
The Director of Ceremonies and the Junior Warden are members of Goliath Lodge, and thus are friends. That helped immensely. The Lodge is named Tower Hamlets Lodge, and I discovered at the Festive Board after Lodge that one of the Founders of this Lodge was Aleister Crowley, the renounded occultist of the turn of the 19th Century. Somewhat scary, really.
The Festive Board was very good: the menu included Lobster Tortellini (which, thankfully, didn’t really taste much of lobster), Lamb Chops with mixed vegetables and potatoes, and crepes with apple sauce (not applesauce, but apple-flavoured sauce). The wine was good too. And, most important, we got out a few minutes past nine. This makes for a welcome change from most Festive Boards, which often don’t get out until after 10 pm.
All in all, an enjoyable experience.
Thanks to Across the Board for this one.
Why I fired my secretary today…
Last week was my birthday and I didn’t feel very well waking up that morning. I went downstairs for breakfast hoping my wife would be pleasant and say, “Happy birthday!”, and possibly have a present for me.
As it turned out, she barely said good morning, let alone “Happy birthday”. I thought… well, that’s marriage for you, but the kids will remember. My kids ate breakfast and didn’t say a word.
So when I left for the office, I was feeling pretty low and somewhat despondent. As I walked into my office, my secretary, Jane said, “Good morning boss, happy birthday!” It felt a little better that at least someone had remembered.
I worked until one o’clock and then Jane knocked on my door and said, “You know, it’s such a beautiful day outside, and it’s your birthday, let’s go out to lunch, just you and me”.
I said, “Thanks Jane, that’s the greatest thing I’ve heard all day. Let’s go!” We went to lunch. But we didn’t go where we normally would go. We dined instead at a little place with a private table. We had two martinis each and I enjoyed the meal tremendously.
On the way back to the office, Jane said, “You know, it’s such a beautiful day… We don’t need to go back to the office, do we?”
I responded, “I guess not. What do you have in mind?”
She said, “Let’s go to my apartment”.
After arriving at her apartment Jane turned to me and said, “Boss, if you don’t mind, I’m going to step into the bedroom for a moment. I’ll be right back”. “OK”, I nervously replied.
She went into the bedroom and, after a couple of minutes, she came out carrying a huge birthday cake… followed by my wife, kids, and dozens of my friends and co-workers, all singing “Happy Birthday”.
And I just sat there…
On the couch…
Naked…
…is Mac vs. PC, South Park style. Thanks to
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…there haven’t been any updates since this morning and others are also complaining.
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I am not a Goth, nor do I play one in cyberspace. But after the brutal murder of Sophie Lancaster in November 2007, a Goth woman (for which murder the perpetrators recently got life in prison) it seems that a worship space for Goth people is a good idea whose time has come. The most interesting part of this is that the worship space, St. Hilda’s, is in Second Life. What an imaginative way to get people who often feel neglected and shunned into a worship space, cyber though it be! I am really pleased and hope that St. Hilda’s thrives.
…is the Age’s report on the consecration of Bishop Barbara Darling, the second Australian woman bishop in the Anglican Church.
I especially enjoyed these three paragraphs:
At the start of the service, Canon Darling
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A shy gentleman was preparing to board a plane, when he heard that the Pope was on the same flight. “This is exciting,” thought the gentleman. “I’ve always been a big fan of the Pope. Perhaps I’ll be able to see him in person.”
Imagine his surprise when the Pope himself sat down in the seat next to him for the flight. Still, the gentleman was too shy to speak to the Pontiff. Shortly after takeoff, the Pope began a crossword puzzle.
“This is fantastic,” thought the gentleman. “I’m really good at crosswords. Perhaps, if the Pope gets stuck, he’ll ask me for assistance.”
Almost immediately, the Pope turned to the gentleman and said, “Excuse me, but do you know a four-letter word referring to a woman that ends with the letters ‘u-n-t’?”
Only one word leapt to mind.
“My goodness,” thought the gentleman, “I can’t tell the Pope that. There must be another word.”
The gentleman thought for quite a while, then it hit him. Turning to the pope, the gentleman said, “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘aunt’.”
“Of course!” cried the Pope. “Do you have an eraser?”
…and many happy returns of the day.
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I may have referred to Cameron Carpenter before; I had seen a video from Trinity Church Wall Street of a concert he gave there, and this was the finale. I am a sucker for “The Stars and Stripes Forever” I’m afraid, and I think that his rendition is perhaps the best organ rendition of the march that I have ever heard. He is definitely the next Virgil Fox (whom I met twice in my high school years and who was the same type of flamboyant showman that Carpenter is).
Turn the volume up and let ‘er rip!
Do something for your lassie
I don’t have a collie.
Do you want something really huge inside your pans?
Well, only if it’s edible and tasty, really.
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One of the few non-religious holidays we share with the United States is the Late May Bank Holiday, which coincides with Memorial Day. There is no particular celebration attached to it, of course, as with most Bank Holidays, so it’s just for us to enjoy.
This weekend, except for Saturday, it pissed down rain every single day through today and probably tomorrow as well.
So we start with Friday, where I went to the gym and then just crashed. Saturday HWMBO and I helped out at the parish table sale, at which we made a very little money but had lots of fun. I bought HWMBO a little toy stuffed walrus (Beanie Baby, I think). We’ll soon be overrun by stuffed toys. That evening we went to dinner at Ethel King’s flat; Ethel is our fellow parishioner at St. Matthew’s and a real gem.
Sunday I preached, then we went to lunch at the Well with
Monday it pissed and pissed and pissed down rain. We were quite annoyed that the weather wasn’t cooperating with us. I don’t believe we did much of anything until the evening, when
Tuesday I worked at home, then set off for a Lodge meeting. One of our daughter lodges is the Lodge of Eternal Light, which meets in the Southgate Masonic Center. It’s two stops before the northern end of the Piccadilly Line, so it is quite a lengthy trip. Many of our Lodge’s members are also members of Eternal Light, and many of Eternal Light’s members are also members of Goliath Chapter of the Royal Arch. So, I knew most of the brethren.
The ceremony was OK, with some exceptions. The Tyler held us up for about 10 minutes by not preparing the Initiation Candidate correctly. There was a Metropolitan Grand Inspector present, and the ceremony of getting him in and sitting next to the Worshipful Master was quite a production. He has his own Master of Ceremonies, who basically takes over the Lodge while the MGI walks in a second procession. The Worshipful Master handed him the gavel, as the MGI is entitled to take over the Lodge from the WM when he arrives, but the MGI handed it back.l
The Tyler also forgot to get the candidate’s rings from him (an initiation candidate enters the ceremony divested of all money and metallic substances). I was told he is a substitute Tyler, so perhaps he’s not seasoned yet.
In the middle of the ceremony they call off the Lodge and everyone goes downstairs and has a cup of tea. This further delayed the ceremony. It was 7:45 pm before we started dinner.
A quaint ceremony during the toast to the initiate was, well, quaint. We made a circle in a particular way with hands interlaced. A speech was delivered pointing out how the chain of the circle could not be broken. Then, we welcomed the candidate.
All in all, this took until well past 10 pm. I didn’t get home until 11:30. I’m bushed.
…and many happy returns of the day.
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comes from this Buddhist monk in Singapore, courtesy of
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Today at St. John’s they observed the Feast of Corpus Christi, the Body of Christ, commemorating the Eucharist. Here is my sermon, behind a cut for those who aren’t into such things…
May 25, 2008 Feast of Corpus Christi
Sermon delivered at St. John the Evangelist, 10 am.
Readings: Deut. 8:2-3, 14-16; Ps. 147; I Cor 10:16-17; John 6:51-58
In the name of God, the one, the Undivided Trinity. AMEN.
One of the highest-rated programs on TV recently was a show called
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I finally heard from Neil this noon. Apparently the Community of the Holy Trinity was wound up in February but no one bothered to tell me. So my money was going into some black hole. The housing association has been in touch with Neil and a cheque will be going out to them shortly.
So it wasn’t malicious, only neglectful.
At least I shan’t have to pay that extra money ever again to the Community of the Holy Trinity. One good thing.
If you came across the Bible section in a bookstore, you might think it was funny to take all the Bibles and reshelve them in other areas that needed evangalisation, such as Erotica, Sexuality, and the like. You might even blog about it.
Of course, if the bookstore clerk who worked in that store and found the shelf empty, suspected shoplifting (40 Bibles at a time?) and then found and returned all the Bibles to the correct shelves had a blog, she might blog too.
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…is graphically shown below. Thanks to towleroad for the cite…
Those of you who are long-time readers of my blog will remember that the Rector of St. Matthew’s Church and I do not see eye-to-eye. To explain the latest difficulty will take some background.
I live in a flat the nomination rights to which are held by a charity, Community of the Holy Trinity, of which the Rector is the Chair. When I was nominated to live in this flat, the Rector asked me to pay
Hello Kitty products are slowly but surely making their way into UK consciousness. However, this product takes the concept to new heights^Wlows.
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Boy, do I wish I knew where this came from; perhaps someone in my huge audience can enlighten me. Anyway, just watch out for the two friendly guys carrying a box–it might contain more than you can chew on.
Thanks to Ashton Cruz for the link. It’s a real laugh riot, 1950’s style.
Thanks to
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Thank God! One teenager has escaped from certain execution at the hands of the Iranian government. May he live a long happy life here.
…and many happy returns of the day.
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