From Pat Boone

In his column for WND this morning, Pat Boone restates the prophetic warnings about big government, given by no less than Ben Franklin and second president of the United States, John Adams. Here are the quotes:

"But early on, Ben Franklin warned, "Beware; if the congressmen discover they can appropriate funds by taxation for their own purposes, the republic will be lost."

And on Oct. 11, 1798, President John Adams stated in his address to the military: "We have no government armed with power capable of contending with human passions unbridled by morality and religion. Avarice, ambition, or revenge, would break the strongest cords of our Constitution as a whale goes through a net. Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other."

Thanks Pat Boone, for the wisdom and insight. Mr. Boone is a descendant of Daniel Boone - his relatives were there when this country was started. But it's not Boone, it's the words, the thoughts, the ideas grasped by a core of individuals who understood what tyranny was and what it would take to build a truly free nation. Proof of their keen understanding (it comes from the Lord, not man), is shown in their words of forebodding.

We forgot about the rules. Oh, everybody knows right from wrong (you'd think, eh?). But we went to sleep and as long as we were taken care of, we let the rules become twisted, self-serving and even perverted. At our expense. Not just our money, but our freedom.

And, judging by what all my friends are going through, we're not so taken care of anymore. Is it too late to fix? You tell me.

Bacon and Bourbon, and Somewhere, Catfish

There's a fresh piece of catfish under there, look close!

I like the new Analon skillet and it was about time I cooked some fish. The flavors came together, so here we go:

1/2 catfish filet
3 strips of bacon (i've found nitrate free, Hormel, I think)
1/4 bermuda onion
orange zest and a little juice
a few baby carrots
bourbon (just enough to make the fish and chef happy)
fresh parsely
peanuts
three mushrooms, sliced
green peas
olive oil
Earth Balance spread
whole wheat spaghetti (i used capellini, which is thin spaghetti, for this one)


Start by grinding 1/2 tsp. ea of these herbs:
granulated garlic
granulated onion
coarse ground black pepper or peppercorns
basil
oregano
parsely flakes

Put 2/3 of this mixture into the boiling pasta and the rest (later) into the fish dish.

Fry the bacon. Add the catfish, tablespoon of Earth Balance spread. Add chopped or sliced onion. Add about a tablespoon of olive oil. Throw in a handful of peanuts. Add the mushrooms, carrots and the orange zest (squeeze in a little juice).

As it all starts to brown, add a splash of bourbon. Add the rest of the herbs. Add fresh parsely and the peas towards the end.

I cooked the peas separately in the remaining juice - either way is fine.

In the bowl:

pasta, crumbled bacon, peanuts, kosher salt, more pepper, parmesean or any shredded italian cheese, a little olive oil.

Put the fish/onion, etc. on top with the peas and parsely at the very top. a little more kosher salt and you're done!

If He Were Among Us Now

"The constitution is not an instrument for the government to restrain the people, it is an instrument for the people to restrain the government - lest it come to dominate our lives and interests."-Patrick Henry

Darwin, can you hear me?

This morning, Dennis Miller came up with the best Darwin line I've ever heard. Ready?

"God created Darwin."

And so...

It's been awhile. I'm grateful for my friends on Facebook - sort of a new venture. A lot of opportunities are opening up for me, just wish some would pay the bills.

Upcoming concert: The Jamezband, Wednesday Aug. 26 at The Bollingbrook Theater for the Performing Arts. James is James Fairs, a true visionary. In another life long ago yet not so far away, he co-founded the Cryan' Shames. They delighted our world in the late 60s.

For the few of you who might not know, that's James to my right in the photo. We jammed at his house in May, and if I am further blessed, we'll do it again.

I am wrapping up my house and home and moving on - we fervently hope - to greener pastures.

Chicago IS Siberia in the winter! But...sometimes in winter...

What a summer! Except for the parking fees and murders, Chicago should be the resort capitol of the season. We have some of the coolest attractions anywhere. Anybody know if the "Chahooly" (I have no idea how to spell his last name) glass exhibit is still at Garfield Park? GP was, only a couple of years back, the center of murder in Chicagoland. Creepy, but I'm still shaking off the effects of watching The Tingler - the old Vincent Price tour de force that was on Svengoolie over the weekend.


Keep on keepin' on Rev Swing Orch. Dot comm. Watching too much Peanut/Jeff Done Hamm. Dot cahmm.

It's great and noble being one of many "keepers of the flame" regarding big band music, but as someone said a few months back when we were playing a club across the street from a cemetery: "All we need to do is turn up. Our fan base is over there!"

Not so true. My friend, Jon McGahan has put together a new band, Stardust, and he has astutely gone into the Lincoln Park neighborhood where his excellent band has been well-received by the young locals.

Till next time!

Why Do Pigeons Have Red Eyes? And Why I Can’t Stop Singing Sam Cooke’s “Cupid.”

I took the L downtown this morning and when you haven’t ridden the L for a long time, you notice things you used to take for granted.

There weren't many people on the train, and today was a perfect summer day. I almost missed the old commute. A little voice reminded me of the early 80s when I did it daily, through the winter, and at both rush hours, dogged tired. It’s when you learn to sleep standing up.

I think the Lord painted pigeons into the urban landscape when He created it. Ever wonder what pigeons know? Or if they know anything? Pigeons probably covered the dinosaurs. But they have red eyes. OK, blue blocker sunglasses are red. That’s why. Pigeons must be able to see like crazy. You drop a peanut or a piece of popcorn, blam, that pigeon gets it. You don’t give up a morsel, you become a target. Life’s balance.

There are always a few spectacular girls with spectacular figures riding the L. They watch to see if you notice. And it’s cool if you do. But there’s an entire L unspoken, non-verbal communication etiquette. Basically, you DON’T start conversations. “Nice day, isn’t it?” That’s taboo. Read your newspaper or look around, focused, and yet removed. “Thank you,” “Excuse me.” That’s about it.

Everyone observes. There isn’t a soul who doesn’t. Riding the L in the 80s, even before that, is how I learned to create characters. I listened to the conversations, watched what people wore, how they carried themselves, how they looked around, all the while observing L etiquette - be there and at the same time, pretend not to be there.

My business downtown only took a short time, so I walked around and noticed how spruced up the theater district is now, then went back to the subway to catch the train home.

There was a Spanish kid driving his mom crazy because he kept putting his toes over the edge of the platform and leaned over to see if the train was coming. I broke the rule and smiled at her, thinking of stunts my own son has pulled.

It was awhile before the train came. A black guy who I thought was waiting for the eastbound train – he had been there almost as long as us – suddenly broke into song.

He was a busker – you have to have a license for it and I’ve been thinking of doing it. But this guy had a sweet voice like an angel. “Cupid, draw back your bow, oh-ee-oh-oh. And let your arrow go. Straight to my lover’s heart for me.”

I walked over and put a buck in his little bag. He looked me in the eye, nodded, and kept singing. By now (I’m writing this a couple hours later) I bet his bag is filled. The Spanish kid walked over and gave him some change.

The train came and I sat next to a young lady. The seat faced backwards to the direction of the train. I don’t have a preference. Either way, the vibration of the ride felt good on my back and legs.

L etiquette: you sit still for the first few minutes. Otherwise, you’re typed. I’ve seen it. After a stop or two you relax and break out the paper or take a drink from your water bottle. You’ve assimilated and are now a rider. You weren’t before. The first two stops are like probation. Now you’re fine and can look around.

Three years I’ve been working out with weights. Dumbbells. I’m not what they call “cut” (I don’t like that term) but my upper bod is getting toned and I’m more bulky now. Enough to think about wearing muscle shirts or tank tops again. Still have to lose a little more around the middle. Three inches and 7 lbs. in 3 months. No beer and no potato chips!

A guy my age got on. He was lanky rather than thin, but he had great arms. I see why guys wear cut-off shirts, etc. We like to show off, too.

There were plenty of girls with all different figures on the train. It’s summer and tank tops rule. For a straight guy, if you don’t think the female breast is comforting and wonderful (and leave it at that), any other thought is perved.


A guy got on in the middle of the ride and sat in the sideways seat next to where I was sitting. He looked liked Santana, or at least a Santana fan, from Woodstock. Black permed hair, curly, not a fro, he was white, thick beard. He was much too young to have been born during Woodstock, but he looked like he was. He wore dark, wrap around shades and had his ipod or whatever plugged in. He moved around right away, didn’t observe L etiquette.

He popped his legs up, crossed them. There was a ways to go before my stop, so I watched this young man, grooving or whatever it’s called now, to the tune he was hearing. A thin, gorgeous black girl got on with an infant in tow. The tyke was as cute as his mom and already had a pretty good fro going. The lady and her girlfriend (or sister) stood in the right side door with the stroller. That was ok because the doors would open on the left for the rest of the stops.

I wondered how the guy singing “Cupid” was doing.

The Santana guy jerked his leg and three quarters tumbled out of his shorts. One stayed on the empty seat next to him, one went on the floor, and the other rolled past me and stopped a seat or two down.

I tapped him on the shoulder and showed him. He didn’t care. “That’s OK.” Another guy told him his quarters were all over the floor, so he went to get them. L etiquette – the guy sitting across from him – tank top, short hair, toned, middle aged, looked at me and grinned. See what I mean? It doesn’t matter what you look like, race or gender, L etiquette is L etiquette.

Another guy got up, went to the door, and put an unlit cigarette in his mouth. I can’t imagine or remember if they ever let people smoke on the CTA. Not when I drove a bus in ’73-’74.

I got up too and stood next to him. He pulled the cig out of his mouth. L etiquette. We all got off. Most people were polite, except for those fighting for seats to O’Hare, the end of the line.

Pigeons have iridescent feathers and bright red eyes. They act like our cat, getting in and out of your way to let you know they need to be fed. Or else.

(photo by Graham Garfield)

Aay?

Yesterday, the girl at the checkout counter in the supermarket asked me if I wanted the Senior Discount.

You bet I do.

I went home and looked in the mirror. Who me? I don't look any different...than someone approaching 60, I guess.

Except I'm not. In fact I was still getting carded, CARDED at 48.

I made her guess my age. For a couple of minutes she went through the routine of pretending not to hear, making me repeat everything, just to wear me down and have a little fun.

She said, "see, I was close." So what was the discount? After more repeating, she finally said it was 10%. Whew, 62 here I come!

And I'll get back to her once I find out if they discount haircuts to girls under 17.

Lib No Longer

This started as a response to a friend of mine, questioning my politics. It’s a position paper, clearing the air about where I’ve come from and why I believe the way I do.


Put me to the right of Abbie Hoffman. Please understand that I was once far left. I went to college in the late 60s – early 70s and was deeply involved in that movement as we all thought we had a better idea. I understand it all too well – the
Weather Underground, Fred Hampton, Mark Clark who were murdered (I knew them a little as they spoke at my college and I covered their appearances when I was on the newspaper).

With all the peace and love abounding and promises of “the revolution” and the ubiquitous “bleep the establishment” (hey, we won, eh?) I started questioning motives.

What bothered me the most was amidst all the peace/love, ethics were slipping. The sense of right and wrong was vaporizing into a gray area. Morality was becoming relative. Under the guise of love, justice and mercy, the baby was being thrown out with the bath water and much of the altruism going on seemed to be a smokescreen for the great "I". I needed the truth, for real – a real bottom line.

I found it, as did many others, especially the ex-hippies, yippies, et.al. of that era, in the Lord. His word finally settled the questions and issues I was having. It took seven years of floundering after college, seeking, going through what I had to go through, but in the end, I found it, in spades.

And even then, it took years of going to various churches, being involved as a Christian person, reading God’s word in the spirit, to find out that it’s not church people, denominational differences, shallowness, hypocrisy (oh, I’ve discovered plenty) that mattered – it was ME, working on my own personal baggage and my own relationship with Jesus Christ, that was the most important thing in my life.

If Libs could only do some of what they do in the name of God and stop being so self-serving, some of what they do would actually help. But they have to mean it. Hand me the rib tape, please.

I'm still somewhat irreverent, irascible, whacky, etc, but best of all, I now have that bottom line. People don't seem to understand. Unfortunately, those who have taken that step (crossed the threshold as Pope John Paul put it – he wrote a book with that title) smell funny to people who haven't. None of us are perfect.

That said, there are other people, under the guise of religion, who are trying to wipe us out, period. Annihilate us and this country. There is no other way to put it. The current administration has a great idea of extending an olive branch to hostile nations and terrorist groups. I get that. This philosophy is straight out of the hippie movement. In fact if anyone gets the notion to protest, just run photos of these folks from the 60s! But anyway, peace, love and appeasement – that’s a great blackboard philosophy and as Christians, that is how we should treat each other.

But in practice, it’s not worth the toilet paper that should be used to wipe it off the blackboard. Huh? Lemme explain, in case nobody's ever thought of this: the others may not necessarily accept peace, love and the truly nice, gentle, open, loving, generous, well-meaning, egalitarian people that we are. They have their own agenda – to kill us. In the name of their God.

Americans, the whole ecumenical lot of us – Christian, Jew, Muslim, et. al. had better remember how to defend ourselves militarily, socially, and culturally, or we're going to lay down like a limp dishrag and this country is going to disappear by default.

I can feel it coming. For me, the bottom line is the Lord's word. What’s the problem with that? I’ve read the book. All of it. And when He gets pissed off, look the hell out! Revelation: white horse, flaming sword coming out of His mouth, name written on His thigh.

I'm forever glad I chose to be on His side. My life experiences and choices I've made have all pointed me in His direction. He will be victorious in the end, and we who endure and keep His word (best we can, I raise my hand) are invited to share in that victory.

Now let's make some music!

Letterman's Crude, Foul Remarks About Palin's Daughter

On his low-rated liberal, conservative-bashing-oriented talk show Tuesday night, David Letterman suggested that Alaskan Governor Sarah Palin's 14-yr. old daughter, Willow, be raped by Yankee baseball player Alex Rodriguez during a game.

This, after intimating that Palin, who has an 80% approval rating, looks like a "slutty flight attendant."


David, it's a good thing you don't have any real power.


(photos from Fox News)

Pork Chops on the Grill

I already cooked this dish and had started eating it when I thought, hmm...I think I'd like to share it.


3 pork chops of any kind

Herb blend: Grind the following:

8 peppercorns

A little kosher salt

1 tsp. onion flakes

1 tsp. minced garlic

Add to a marinade of olive oil and soy sauce, rub over pork chops, cover, let it sit.


Oil the grill with some peanut oil on a paper towel.

Preheat and start grilling the chops.

I had some mushroom and sauerkraut pierogi on hand and boiled about 8 small ones, then added some frozen veggies to the water.

A little more olive oil to the dish, some extra coarse ground black pepper, Parmesan cheese (I had Munster on hand), several green olives, Kosher salt to taste, and that’s it!

This was a dish where all the flavors blended together delightfully.

A Great Quote

"God will not have his work made manifest by cowards."

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, 19th century philosopher

Graduation Steak

One graduating 18-yr. old senior – prime ingredient, receptor of the above steak.

One Saratoga steak about an inch thick, on sale at the Jewel today, $6.99/lb.

Oil the grill grate w/peanut oil (I put some oil on a paper towel and rubbed it all over the grate). Pre-heat the grill and prepare the meat while the grill is heating.

Rinse the steak in cold water, dry with a paper towel, put it on a large dinner plate.

Into the little grinder: 8 peppercorns, tsp. oregano, tsp. minced garlic, tsp. minced onion.

Make small cuts with a kitchen knife on both sides of the steak. In a few of the cuts, only on one side, insert a bit of Earth Balance Spread.

Rub both sides of the steak with ground herbs.

Put the steak on the preheated grill and cook to whatever “doneness” suits your fancy – we like medium.

While steak is grilling, boil some asparagus and then add corn to the boiling water just before asparagus is tender.

I’d bought two potato pancakes at the Polish Deli this afternoon. Gobbled one up when I got home, placed the other one on the Grad’s dinner plate.

I’m into antipasto and I like artichokes, dill pickles, olives – I added a large artichoke heart to each of our plates. Also a few small organic carrots.

The Grad and I reminisced and argued about whether I shot video or still pictures the day he started high school.

I didn't bring it up, but I remember every inch of the video tape I shot when he started Pre-K3.

Surprisingly...

I’m ready for a relationship again. It’s been over a year since the divorce.

Marriage? NOT, but I don’t rule it out. It’s 3 to 50 steps beyond meeting someone I’m interested in. And, let’s say I’m at step 1, but still open.

I stopped in to see Pastor Doug yesterday. Doug, a former college football player who has fathered 2 sons and has had a long, REAL marriage with ups and downs, has counseled probably 100s of couples who were either planning on getting married or – the greater number by far – thinking of ending their marriage.

He has counseled me for almost three years. Now we just talk or visit occasionally. But I want to pass this along because Doug has an encouraging way of avoiding the use of a cattle prod and you still come away motivated and wanting to improve yourself as a person, spouse, father.

Marriage dynamics are like two rods (not Blagojevich, more like “lightning”), parallel to each other, that keep moving in relation to one another. This is my analogy, based on what Doug and I were talking about. Each rod has two ends and a definite middle. Those three points are like volume knobs on a radio. They are also the dynamics of assertion in a relationship (bingo).

What Doug said, and I’ve found personally, is that marriage needs to be in flux. If it is in flux around both middle points, then neither is dominating and neither is afraid to speak their mind. The midpoint is the strength point where you’re not overly aggressive, nor are you keeping all of your feelings in and you wind up being a victim.

Out of hand, or if one rod stops (gives in, gives up), the other one can become not only dominating, but abusive, especially if one spouse does not have the backbone to stand up and speak his/her mind. The dynamic is then gone and enter, all sorts of problems, which all too often end the marriage.

Lesson learned: If you can stay in that middle, the two ends tend to drop off and you are neither victim, nor abuser. Call it becoming whole. I call it having the resources to function as a human being. It’s a great feeling of achievement. And to a spouse or relationship pardner, it is nothing but nurturing. If two can function this way, or keep the dynamics in flux, you’ve got a good one! Think about marriage if you’ve got that – it’s a blessing.

True: Played a club with the big band last year. Our lead singer, a fantastic voice and personality, spotted a pretty, young lady – long, blonde hair, red sweater, petite. He got her up on the floor and danced with her, while he sang. I’m in the back, behind the drummer (I play guitar). The singer knows me well and what’s gone on in my life these last few years, so when the song was finished, he asked the girl if she was single. Yes. He goes, how about Randy? He just got divorced.

Well, chiseled looks, no. And no motorcycle. But I still get looks. The young lady took a look in my direction, a good look, turned to the singer (who was holding the mic in front of her) and said, “How much money does he have?”

She needs to ask a musician that?

The Fence! The Fence! The Fence!

Don’t be afraid to put yourself out there. Sign petitions, and by all means, encourage entities, people, officials who are standing up for your rights and making a difference.

Remember what happens when good people do nothing?

It happened. We're going down as I wrote in my last column, so what have you got to lose besides your integrity? Your possessions? Your personal property? What are you waiting for?

I get petitions all the time to sign and almost all of them are from legitimate, worthy entities. In the past I said, “Ah, no, I can’t do this. Someone’s going to take down my name and I’ll get put on a list.”

In a word, tough. I’ve signed and it hasn’t happened and if it does, fine. That fence too many of us have been straddling for too many years has decayed and is crumbling. If anyone thinks that hiding under their bed will make them safe, the bed will someday be gone, too. Sooner, than later, I believe.

There are organizations like Florida Family Association – one of many – who have either filed suit, protested, contacted sponsors of TV shows such as Family Guy (an anti-Christian TV show), or Craig’s List, which has sponsored “escort services”, and have gotten things done, in the name of moral, Christian, American, righteous values.

Support these organizations, even if you just sign a petition. I know you believe in what they’re doing. And use your real name and email address. THAT’S what you can do. But for the sake of what you hold dear, please do something!

Bad Thoughts, Good Eyeglasses

America is failing, because it’s so diluted, it’s hamstrung.

Try and do anything. Get a job. Function. Write. Succeed. THINK. There’s probably a law against it.

We’re not going to change it, even though our complacency and inertia are totally to blame. But unless you get up and do something about it, that’s America’s Destiny.

I believe we’re not a player in these End Times. It’s the End of the Age. And, unfortunately, we are going to be wiped out.

We’ll still be around, but not as the America in which we grew up. The Baby Boomers. Hula hoops, rock ‘n roll, post WWII prosperity. Foolish. Ask the Greatest Generation.

There has been another force at work that successfully, and surgically undermined all that was good about America. That force was described by the Prophets, going back to Isaiah and of course, the Book of Daniel.

We are “The Young Lions” the bible speaks of – tall, proud, smooth-skinned people feared by all the nations. They shall be drunk and transfixed by our wine of economics and prosperity; a modern day Babylon if you study the scriptures.

But we will fall to Rome. And it will be at the hands of the Muslim henchmen and Russia. And economically, China – the country that will send an army of 200 million towards Israel (John, Isle of Patmos, Divine Revelation) and their ultimate destiny: the Valley of Meggido.

The Seven Hills upon which Rome is built (I’ve seen them and have photographed them personally) will rule the nations. There is no doubt – it’s God’s perfect number.

We will not save America. For those of you who have had those thoughts, and are people of God who stand on His Righteousness (US Cong. Rep. Mark Kirk, who is a shining star but will not rise), remember the Bible says that the Gentiles will dominate Israel for a short time. In that time, the victory is wholly theirs.

Why? Because the Victory is wholly God’s, not man’s. It’s a matter of Pride. As good as we think we are, as Godly, as Right, we will not win. I believe we will be raptured out (Rev. 3:10) and saved from the time of Jacob’s Trouble. I don’t believe we will be “taken through”. The language of the Bible denies this (“ek” vs. “dia”).

But while we are here we are to tell the message of the Good News. In fact, it is our Commission. It is the ultimate best we can do. But we will not win, though God will win and bring millions of His saints back to Earth, wave after wave, succeeding the Bridal Feast. Meanwhile all Hell breaks loose on the Late Great Planet Earth. We will gladly clean up, having suffered the fools who would not turn. We will have the skills and the muscle, both dead and alive, courtesy of Christ the King who shall return on a snow white steed, with a double-edged sword in his mouth and his name written upon his thigh. And what a thousand years it will be!

Stay tuned.

PS Happy Birthday Frank Capra, and Happy 101, Jimmy Stewart, this Wednesday.

Randy’s Recipes: Chicken Strips in Soy Sauce and Garlic

For two or three appetites!

Place a fairly large boneless chicken breast in a gallon size freezer bag and smash (I use a short length of 2x4).

Cut the breast into strips, lengthwise. Put the strips in a baking dish (rinse them in cold water and dry with a paper towel, first). Add ½ cup of soy sauce. Chop 2 cloves of garlic, add to the dish, also, a little coarse ground pepper. Add a tsp. of olive oil. Mix it all up with your hands, cover and put in the fridge for half an hour.

Slice a large baking potato on a grater. I used the side that makes potato chips or scallops. Watch your knuckles!

Heat a large pan. I use a 3-½ qt. non-stick stainless steel saute pan by Cuisinart. No aluminum and copper is sandwiched into the bottom. It spreads the heat evenly and it you condition the pan with mineral oil once a month or so, use wooden utensils, wipe it out with a paper towel or wet sponge, no soap, it’ll last forever.

½ c. olive oil to the pan.

Put the potatoes in first. Once they get going, clear a space in the middle of the pan and add the chicken. Work on the chicken, turning it so it cooks evenly. I happened to have some smoked bacon on the bone. I cut off the fat and added a little to the chicken.

Mix in the potatoes, then start adding the veggies. I used the following:

soy beans (shelled)
baby carrots
green onion or chives
mushrooms

I didn’t use it, but chopped, fresh kale is also good in this dish.

Because of the flavor of the soy sauce, the only spices I used were coarse ground black pepper and a little minced onion and garlic.

Salt only after you place the food in serving bowls. Add a tablespoon of Earth Balance spread and enjoy!

Carrie: Double-Edged Sword

It’s a great photo, isn’t it?

Carrie Prejean is a beautiful girl.

And the “other” photos? You’ve seen them. They’re posted all over the I-net. I’m not a Christian woman but if I were, I wouldn’t have made the choice she did. Why? There are limits and for Christians in particular, within those limits there is Joy.

I know this is true. I go out of the limits – I told a couple of good friends earlier this week I hope God gives me a mulligan for having looked at porn.

Yeah, very funny. Carrie’s pictures bring home a lot of things. I do believe God has used her, in her flaws and in her beauty, and with the choices she’s made. And in a way that only He can do.

She’s shown the world its hypocrisy. And I'm right in the middle of the pack. No, I’m not homosexual, let alone homophobic, at all. But does it make it all that better to drool over someone of the opposite sex rather than the same sex?

I didn’t drool over Carrie, but I don’t agree with Trump’s statement about her semi-nude photos being fine because it’s the 21st Century. If that were true, it’d validate all the relative morality arguments. Truth is truth – it’s an absolute – deal with it.

And don’t the gays and the libs and the agenda-driven media know that? They do, it’s God’s word that we all know right from wrong. Everyone. Believers and non-believers alike. He created ALL of us. It’s somewhere in the Old Testament, in Deuteronomy or Leviticus that those laws are written inside our hearts, undeniably and indelibly. Right and wrong, black and white, they are our laws, from Him.

Through Carrie Prejean, God is showing us that we're ALL hypocrites – not gays, not libs that Christians, by definition, disagree with. We’re NOT any better than one another. Kind of gives us a basis of love for fellow man/woman, doesn’t it? Hate their sin and hate ours as well. Because we’re on an equal playing field.

I’m learning a lesson.

BTW Carrie, take all the photos you want, semi-nude or in your birthday suit. Paste them up all over you and your husband’s bedroom, once you’re wed. The marriage bed is pure.

Somewhere

Regretfully, I couldn't find the photo of my mom that I wanted to run today.

She looked beautiful. It was taken before either I or my sister, who's five years older, was born. It may have even been shot around the time my folks were married or right before my dad went into WWII.

It was before the verities of a long marriage had set in: raising two kids, managing the finances (she socked it away in envelopes to pay the bills and put what was left in the bank before dad said a word), the cooking and the cleaning over and over again, planning all those parties and family events, dealing with a husband with post traumatic stress syndrome well-before that term was coined or anything was in place to help returning vets with those problems.

There are no lines or wrinkles on her face in that photo. She was in her early 20s and the ravages of her 2-pack a day cigarette habit was more than a half century away from taking their final toll. She had already lived through the Depression and you couldn't tell that she had to live in an orphanage with her sister when she was four because her mom had gotten paralyzed scrubbing floors in a factory in the winter with the windows wide open.

And she didn't have to pray and hope and worry yet over a son who would stay in college during the riots of the late 60s-early 70s, drive a bus on the old 41 route through Cabrini Green and then backpack and hitch hike through Europe with the money he'd earned. It was either that or the Navy and Vietnam.

Rather she looked like she was posing for a portrait for her new husband. She had that Gibson-styled hair (no, it doesn't mean she had a guitar on top of her head. The "Gibson-girl" look was pretty popular in the 40s). Her makeup was perfect. And she wore her famous raccoon coat. I remember when it got damaged beyond repair in a flood in the basement at the old house. She had stored it in a trunk along with love letters from my dad and other memorabilia from the early years of their marriage. It was almost all lost.

The flood was around 1990 -- their 50th wedding anniversary. Losing those items was a turning point, because by the end of the decade, Mom and Dad were both gone. Mom first.

That picture is somewhere. And so is Mom.

Randy's Recipes: Grandma's Favorite Chicken Hash

In honor of my grandmother’s 122nd birthday (she lived to 87) and since I’d just made chicken soup, I thought it’d be a great time for this recipe.

My mom got this one from her. Every time she made chicken soup from scratch, the next day she made delicious hash with the left over chicken. If you keep the chicken in broth, it’s even better the next day. After that, forget it. So make the hash the day after.


This feeds two really well, three isn’t stretching it.

Dice two red potatoes, leave the skins on. Rinse and put them in water. Bring water to a boil.

To the water add the following. If you have a small grinder, grinding the herbs/spices will unlock the flavor like you wouldn't believe:

1/2 tsp. Kosher salt
several peppercorns – I use about ten
tsp. dry, minced onion
tsp. dry, minced garlic
tsp. parsley flakes
1/2 tsp. thyme
tsp. dry dill
tsp. chives
1 medium bay leaf

This is incredibly aromatic, and GREEN!

Put about 2/3rds of this mixture into the boiling potatoes.

Add a couple drops of olive oil to the water, then blanch some fresh broccoli (I separate half a head and then chop the stalks) in the boiling water. The oil will turn the broccoli deep green. Don’t leave the broccoli in too long. It should still be al dente when you take it out of the water. Set it aside.

Chop the following and put in a large bowl:

a quarter of a medium sized Bermuda onion (any onion is OK)
one stalk of celery
a small carrot (or use a few baby carrots)
one clove of garlic
small handful of walnut pieces

Pull all the soup chicken meat off the bones, throw it into the same bowl.

Heat a fry pan (I use a large sauté pan and it’s perfect for all my recipes) and add a couple of tablespoons of olive oil. Put in all the ingredients, including the broccoli, and stir with a wooden utensil.

Drain the potatoes. Make sure they drain completely, then add them to the pan. Don’t be afraid to let it all brown lightly, especially the potatoes. As it cooks, add some green olives (cut them up), and sesame seed. If it starts to dry, add more olive oil or a little Earth Balance spread.

Spoon into serving bowls or plates. Top with some grated Parmesan, coarse ground black pepper, and a little Kosher salt.

Driving While Liberated

It made national news -- a woman who admitted she was painting her fingernails while driving at a high speed, slammed into a motorcyclist, throwing the biker hundreds of feet, killing her.

Last winter (Feb. 2008) I was in the same general area, waiting to turn onto a main road. Speed limit on the main road was 45. Family in a white SUV was waiting to turn left onto the smaller road I was on. I was waiting to turn left onto the main road.

Some traffic. Typical situation. I was first in line to turn, couple of cars behind me. I had the radio on and I remember looking at the knobs or switches because as I looked down for a second, I heard an atomic bomb go off.

A kid in an old car slammed into the back of the family's stopped SUV at 60 mph. In an instant, what was an SUV turned into an accordion. Before anyone could utter, "Oh my God!" the kid, badly broken up, got out of his car and tried to walk to the van. And he was busted up bad, I can tell you.

Text messaging, ringtones, the radio, whatever he was doing, his choice changed lives forever. I turned right instead of left, pulled over and called for help. Paramedics and police arrived quickly. Other motorists got out of their cars to help with traffic. I waited for the police and then left. I called them later to see how the victims were and to give my name as a witness. At that time, they said there were no fatalities. Yet.

The year before, my neighbor was on her way home from church at night (Good Friday) and got rolled over and dragged 100 feet by a lady in an SUV, on a cell phone. Fire department had to use a hoist to get the SUV off of her -- she was pinned underneath. Both of her arms were broken near the shoulders. Miracle, she survived, had months of therapy, and is now back at work.

I remember standing on the El platform in 1983, waiting to catch a train downtown to go to work. The tracks ran along the expressway. I was appalled to see a guy driving his car on the Kennedy, with a newspaper folded over the steering wheel.

Bicyclists too, are getting killed in droves in Chicago.

Any suggestions? Is this another freedom of speech issue? Do people have a right to drive a vehicle and do virtually anything they want on the basis of being liberated and "empowered"? There couldn't be enough laws passed and enforced to cover any of this -- they'd have to have devices to measure where the eyes are focusing, if the head turns too often towards the dashboard, if hands come off the steering wheel. Sensors all over the car. Voice sensors, too. Oh, that'd fly.

People have to choose whether "defensive driving" is an antiquated, extremist term, thus taking on the meaning "offensive driving" in this brave, new upside down world we call home. Or is there some small portion still alive in the human psyche that says there are limits as to how much one's own selfishness is serving them and society.

Charleton Heston Couldn’t Have Said it Better

We walked into the nightclub late last night – me and Don, the leader of our big band. It was a weeknight and people were still out partying.

The place was once a bowling alley. I used to bowl there in the late 60s with my high school buddies. A few years ago, it changed hands and was reconditioned into a combination of the old Playboy Club, the Drake Hotel, and, if you’ve ever been there, House on the Rock in Dodgeville, Wisconsin.

The main dance floor could have been used as a set for Star Trek or any of the action movies, including Batman. There were lasers, more than half-naked girls, an unbelievable sound system that pumped really good, modern dance music.

Three other smaller side rooms served as auxiliary bars. By smaller, I mean the size of a large banquet hall with a 25-ft. ceiling as opposed to a gymnasium. Speaking of the ceiling, there were chandeliers – maybe 20 feet in diameter and God knows how tall – that had to have been taken from an old hotel downtown. Hotel Xanadu.

It’s all Polish. Young, affluent Polish, ultra-chic, not like grandparents who came over on the boat and worked in factories. They were dressed to the nines (I forget how to say “nine” in Polish). The waitresses and female clientele struck me as something you see on the internet (when you should be doing something else), or maybe Dancing with the Stars. This is like money Hugh Hefner doesn’t even have. Course, I’ve never been and never will be to one of his parties. I hear they wear even less clothes. I read about it.

I had to tell the blond, thin, fit, 20-ish waitress who drew our $7 beers that the girls were so pretty I wish I was 30 again. She thanked me. I could have been her grandfather. The bar was a huge mahogany and glass job that might have come from a world’s fair at the turn of the next century.

Did I mention there were four TV screens in the marble and frosted glass washroom?

You can call it sex, hedonism. Opulent sexuality. But I didn’t get the feeling of sleaziness or meat market. That’s from my culture. “Meat Market” was Rush Street in the 60s and 70s where you’d meet white girls who didn’t go to college and you’d see plenty of pro baseball players hanging out after a game.

The nightclub struck me as the pinnacle of Polish culture in America. But it wasn't exactly the America we knew. However, the owner seemed to have had some thoughts about that.

I finally noticed the floor – narrow strips of maple, worn. I motioned to Don. It was the original floor from the bowling alley. An artifact. How nice of them. You could even see marks where you’d spot your ball. I wondered if I was standing at the spot where maybe 40 years ago I’d knocked down some pins.

We headed out. BTW, we were there to see if the owner wanted to hire the big band. As of this morning, surprisingly, it looks like a maybe. Have to make another phone call. Got another smile from the waitress when I told her we were jazz musicians, had a big swing band and we were the “real deal.” She seemed to think that was cool.

Don and I went through the lounge, which could have come from the Palmer House. The door to the parking garage was chained, but we kept walking towards it, still exploring.

A wall had blocked what we were about to see. Slowly, on the left, a space opened up and something came into view. Take, double take, then swallow.

There, in dim greenish florescent light, were two remaining lanes of the original bowling alley. Pins were set in both lanes, many balls, black and colored (the ladies’ bowling balls were colored and lighter as I remember) were racked up between the lanes, a pair of small scoring screens still hung overhead.

“Damn you! Damn you all to hell!” Charleton Heston’s utterance was a mix of shock and disgust at the end of Planet of the Apes. We could have well come upon the head of the Statue of Liberty sticking out of the floor.

I wasn’t angry and I wouldn’t have damned anybody. I was shocked at the passage of time and seeing the culture I had known become quaint – distilled to a museum piece in the corner, contrasted by this grandiose opulence.

We’ve lived a long time. Maybe playing big band music at this club – music written before I was even born – will somehow balance all of this.

Randy's Recipes: Pot Roast, Italian Style!

Boneless chuck roast, seven blade roast, whatever you think is best. I used a 2-1/4 lb. roast for this recipe.

Brown the meat in peanut oil, season with garlic powder (find one without salt or additives), minced dry onion (perfect for browning meat -- no moisture), and lots of oregano. When meat is well-browned, remove from pan. Clean the pan or use a Dutch oven, and then add 3/4 inch of beef stock, 1/2 of a red onion (it's Italian!), 1 medium green bell pepper sliced, put the meat in, a couple of carrots, 1 leek or the tops of three green onions, a small bunch of fresh dill, a bay leaf, 2 large red or white potatoes (cut into quarters, but leave the skin on), a good splash of Chianti, black pepper, couple a cloves of garlic, more oregano. Simmer, simmer, simmer, 2 hours is good, till the meat is soft but not dry. Test! Cut off a bit and taste. Don't let it dry out – make sure it's tender! Add green beans and a sprinkle of savory. I also like some chopped zucchini and mushrooms, but add both at the end for only 5 or 10 minutes. Serve with a green salad and some Chianti or red wine. Whew! Delish!

Update: I now have a pressure cooker and this entire roast can be cooked in about half an hour. I also grind my herbs and spices in a small grinder and rub them into the meat. You can also cut small pockets into the roast before browning and insert pieces of raw garlic.

Milestone

My son was accepted by the college of his choice today. It feels about as good as the day he was born.

Soon he will be off. He's been to camp several times, and for most of the summer. But this time will be a real passage – he'll be going on to the rest of his life.

He'll do wonderfully. He needs your prayers along with mine and so do others just like him, because innovative, creative minds like his are what's going to save this country. They are what made America great in the first place.

Yo, Carrie!

Carrie Prejean -- anybody going to say they are ignoring her drop dead gorgeous looks and beautiful figure? -- spoke her heart, without hate, and with tolerance for those who didn't agree with her viewpoint. She's got my support, and crown or no crown, she's a hero.

Dreamin'

When you dream about people you know, particularly the ones who are supposed to be dead, what do they look like? Every time I dream of them, like last night (and I'm writing this just after I woke up), they always appear younger.

Not only that, but they look the same as I remember them until the point of recognition, then things change. Get to that later.

There was a friend of mine from college, I hadn't seen him in easily 30 years. He was a mentor of sorts -- couple of years older than I, he was smart enough to have been a doctor. Instead, he was a hippy. He bought a '61 Harley Davidson, a former police bike, and we used tool around the Chicago expressways at two or three in the morning. The bike was like being on a comfortable truck, so yo to all you old Harley riders.

What did I learn from him? Sarcasm. But with a point. At a young age, only 20, 21, this guy was already fed up with the way the world worked. He saw the writing on the wall and knew things weren't going to change. His life was a combination protest against the absurdities of society and also the pure romance of a free-spirited Easy Rider. If things were different, he might have sported short hair, a stethoscope and a lab coat, instead of looking like a Hell's Henchman and riding a Harley.

I lost track of him, except that I remember he was busted for hauling marijuana, I think in a semi-trailer! Yeah, that would have been him. BTW, no drugs -- one afternoon, we threw a refrigerator off the third floor of the old, condemned tenement that was the Student Union building at college. We called the yearbook staff on the 1st floor and warned, "don't look up."

BTW #2 -- we ran the campus newspaper. Our former advertising manager appears regularly on TV here as a bankruptcy attorney. Plenty of stories there, but for those of you in the know, the attorney is a good guy and despite the jokes, has helped a LOT of people. And he reveres the guy I'm writing about.

A few years back, on a whim, I started looking for my friend, the Harley guy, on the Net. I was amazed, yet not surprised, to find that he headed of a division of Harley Riders up in Alaska. As expected, he was sort of a sophisticated drifter. The group he led was doing something like Toys for Tots. That's where I wasn't surprised. HR are a great bunch of folks, generous, and they include many police.

But I laughed, as my friend looked almost the exact same -- his full beard was even longer, big black leather vest, same round wire rim glasses. Older. That's him in the photo on the far right. Far right, ha-hah! Anything but! Also, he is called "Rev." in the picture. That's a chuckle. I remember the day in the newspaper office when he filled out the mail-order seminary degree form to get out of going to Vietnam.

Not long after that, I found his name again. He had been killed. Not one to stay in one place too long, he'd moved from Alaska to Grand Junction, Co. Fatal error, with Fate taking the upper hand. The news story said he'd been riding his cycle on a highway when an 85-yr. old woman pulled out from a side road, not looking carefully, and ran over him. My friend died in the hospital, hours later. Yeah, with his boots on.

Another BTW -- if he'd have lived to see the Pirates of the Caribbean moves, he WAS Capt. Jack Sparrow, only less confused. Once, when water started spouting from the ceiling of a huge, brick-lined pit at school that served as a lounge and study hall, my friend stood atop a ledge, raised himself to his full height and boomed engagingly, "Don't panic! We've struck an iceberg and sprang a small leak. There is nothing to worry about. Don't panic!"

In the dream I had this morning, we were in a high school and I was asking for permission to turn the lights up in a certain room. Who knows why -- it was a dream. I was told to go and find my friend. As soon as I was told this, he appeared out of a sea of faces. At first I saw him as I remembered him in college: beard, hippy. But as he got closer, he grew younger, like I mentioned at the start of this column. The anomaly, if it indeed was an anomaly, is that he became clean shaven -- his beard disappeared, his hair was short, combed, and forgive me, he wore a beanie like some did as college freshmen, before the leftist movement and Vietnam protests had taken hold in the Midwest.

Shocking, how my friend looked. I saw him closeup. He carried a stack of schoolbooks under his arm. The was no blur around him as dreams are often portrayed. The "blur" was that he appeared out of a sea of activity -- changing classes -- and that's what isolated him.

I wondered why he appeared so clean cut. After all, I knew my friend well as an iconoclast; a renegade with a soft heart. But maybe he looked like that in the dream because he'd found a world where things were as he desired them to be. And he was functioning as his true self. He was happy.

(photo at top by Gigi Pilcher)

Found, Entwife?!

The Ents in Tolkien's LOTR thought the Entwives had been lost in the Second Age War of the Last Alliance. Their beautiful gardens were destroyed by Sauron and it was said they themselves were scattered or departed. But Entwives were once rumored to have been sighted north of the Shire, a land of vegetation and gardens, the latter of which, they were particularly fond.

However, after thousands of years have passed, could it be that an Entwife has been spotted in this modern day Age of Man? That said, could this be Fimbrethel, beloved wife of Treebeard (Fangorn)?

Randy's Recipes: Rotini with Veggies and Turkey Bacon

Boil some whole wheat rotini with a few drops of olive oil

I grind up my herbs and spices in a small grinder some good friends gave me in the early 80s. It brings out the flavor and gets them into your system more readily. Minced onion, oregano or mixed Italian herbs, parsley flakes, garlic granules, fennel seed, Kosher salt and peppercorns. Put half (or more) into the boiling pasta and add the rest to the pasta dinner before serving. Remember, ground is more potent!

Heat a sauté pan. Add a couple of tablespoons of olive oil. Cut up two slices of turkey bacon and put in heated pan. Cut a few pieces of fresh broccoli from the head, slice half a red bell pepper into large chunks, chop or slice ¼ of a white or red onion, a little kale (it was on hand), a handful of walnuts (pieces or halves), mushrooms and throw into pan. Stir everything.

This cooks fast. Add a chopped scallion or green onion towards the end.

Drain the pasta, add to the pan with some more olive oil. Add the rest of the ground herbs. Add four tablespoons of pasta/tomato sauce. I used TJ’s Vodka Pasta Sauce. Crack one whole egg over the top. Stir it in. Secret ingredient: Had a bag of candied cranberry bits on hand and added some. You can also use dried apricots ¬– I’ve tried that and it’s great. Little more tangy than the berries.

Add a little more ground black pepper, or if you like, a little red, or cayenne pepper. Splash in a little red wine. Sprinkle some toasted sesame seed on top.

Put into bowls, top with feta or parmesean, reggiano or whatever, add a few green or black olives and serve!

This is an easy meal to make, and can be done at the spur of the moment.

Mr. Martini, How 'Bout Some Wine!

I can't seem to locate a photo, but I know where that scene from Wonderful Life was shot when they enter the Martini Castle. A friend a mine lives near the area, it's north of LA. The title of this column was actually said at the end of the film when George Bailey's friends triumphantly come to his rescue.

Watched some clips of Frank Capra on you Tube this morning -- one from Dick Cavett's show, late 60's it looks like. FC was talking about Lost Horizon and how he experimented with putting dry ice in actor's mouth to get the effect of talking outside in freezing weather! Salute to silent film start Hobart Bosworth, who was quite injured in the incident.

The other clip was Capra on the old Tomorrow Show with Tom Snyder. How I missed that one during its run, I don't know. Was a faithful follower from the start. Tom knew conversation. Glad we still have Charlie Rose and Tavis Smiley.

But...the subject today is wine. Has anyone tried Frey wine? Saw it on Christina Pirello's excellent website. Yo, Christina!

http://www.freywine.com/
http://www.christinacooks.com/

I'm into Mediterranean style cooking. It has helped break my potato chip habit and I've lost four pounds in the two weeks I've committed to the lifestyle.

Recipes to come!

He is Risen. Same Old, Same Old?

Good Friday, good day. Much better than last year. It’s not snowing, the sun’s out and I’m not driving home from divorce court.

But Good Friday -- what do we do with that? Good Catholics will go to church on Sunday. I’m planning on taking my son to a church near downtown that has the best choir in the city. We may even go to church tonight.

Are we supposed to be solemn today, or should we rejoice? For those who believe, our sins are forgiven. Hooray, "our sins are forgiven". Words heard often in church. This weekend, let’s boil some eggs and color them, have some ham and mustard, don’t forget that little butter lamb. And drink a whole lot of wine on Sunday. Saturday, too. Make it red.

My nose hit the rug this morning, not from wine. It is like turning on a phone line to God. He showed me -- after He gently pushed aside my babble -- the Lord going up, ascending to Heaven with his scars, which he will always bear. But I saw the ones he took for me.

THAT’S the holiday. I am happy and I am sad. But I still rejoice because I still believe, shaken though my faith has been lately. Just let me keep telling people about you, Lord, and let us all tell each other and celebrate the “You” that’s in all of us, provided we’ve taken that step and crossed over the threshold of light as John Paul wrote.

Alleluia! Life is renewed every day, the moment we wake up. Because of you.

They're Not Exactly Goosestepping in Germany Anymore

I stood in front of these ovens in 1973. In fact, when we asked the young lady at the information desk in Munich where to catch the train (or bus) that went to Dachau, she put her head down.

Point being, there is no way President Obama could have possibly offended the Germans by going to Normandy. All former presidents have done so. From my experience, Germans are ashamed of Nazism. They are no longer beholden to the psychopath that held them emotionally and mentally hostage from about 1923-1945.

I'm not so sure what they teach at Harvard, but it doesn't speak well to even dream that the German people, especially the ones who were alive in his era, relate to Hitler. Or his Fascism.

Back to '73. We got off the train at a wrong stop on our way to Stuttgart. It was night. The town was Esslingen. Not your average tourist stop. We saw a light on in what turned out to be a tavern. A tavern in Europe is often a grand thing and a family thing. It was so in '73.

No one spoke English, but the patrons were friendly and put us at ease. I was traveling with a young lady (yes, girlfriend) and another young lady we had met who was from Australia. Her name was Pam. She had come to Europe to ski because it was summer Down Under and snow was plentiful in December on the slopes of the Alps.

The guys in the bar, we found out -- keep in mind the year -- were all ex-Nazi soldiers. Not to worry, Mom. She'd have flipped.

They were courteous, helped us with our German. They not only bought us all the great beer we wanted, but they bought us dinner and paid for our bus ride to Stuttgart. But that's jumping the gun.

They knew we were American students, of course. I got that they sincerely wanted to treat us well. They had fought our fathers in WW2 and my take (I was 22 at the time), was that they wanted to make amends and show us the good people that they were.

Don't mean to go on about this, but one of the gentlemen -- he had been a sergeant -- kept teasing me, asking which of the girls was my "Freundin" ("girlfriend". Please correct me on the spelling, but I got the drift back then). "Ah! Ya, this one!"

When it came time to leave -- we had already explained our predicament -- they called for info on the best way to get to Stuttgart. Trains were done running for the night, so they insisted on getting us a cab and paying for it. I really felt bad imposing. We decided to take the bus. At some point in the conversation we had gotten up to leave. One of the ex-soldiers grabbed my coat sleeve. I pulled away and he quickly let go, not wanting to offend. Despite a couple of beers, he put his head down.

These gentlemen insisted on paying for the bus. We thanked them for everything, hugged and said goodbye. I understood, even then, that they were no longer Nazis. If anything, they wanted forgiveness for following the utter fool who led them astray.

So let's get with it, Pres. Obama. Go back to Normandy and stand proudly before the graves of those who made the Ultimate Sacrifice and stopped Nazi Germany from conquering the world and throwing all of its people into a burning pit. The survivors are grateful. America and the Allies did the right thing. Be proud.

Back to that bus. It wasn't a long ride, but we went along the Romantic Road through the Black Forest at night with a bright moon that edge-lit the tips of the pines. I kissed my girlfriend the whole way.

Shoo, Bop Bop Bop Bop

They're talking about a new park for the Cubs. Zambrano wants one and for a pretty good reason: it's 2009. Could have said the same in 1995. Everything about Wrigley Field being "baseball", the franchise, the legacy, is absolutely true. But when does diminishing returns prompt action? The object of the sport is to win, right? If the Cubs had 2 or 3 championships under their belt since 1945, then, OK, the machine is greased -- keep the park, repair it, expand it. But if a new park is the edge the team needs to reach that Ultimate Victory, then build it. Tear down Wrigley, put up a new one. How about taking Wrigley apart, brick by brick, and moving it to Kane County? Or Iowa? Or Cooperstown?

Why We Don’t Like Each Other

If there are indeed only two extremes, progressive and conservative, then what progressives do not realize is that progression does not and cannot have a trajectory, much less a target, than if led by the infinite, and progressives, by nature, do not embrace the infinite, or at best, flounder about it astigmatically.

Thus springs the computer, the ultimate folly of progression: man’s attempt to perfect himself and secure his immortality. Talk about a straw man. Call him Wrong Way Corrigan.

Conservatives embrace the infinite and in doing so, by fooling themselves into believing their own impotency, stymie progression. Thus springs complacency, which begets materialism, which begets misguided ambition (selfishness), which begets greed. Talk about a misuse of God's resources.

Truly led by God, men and women would be neither progressive nor conservative. In fact, such persons would realize scripture says we are only here for a visit and to do God’s work: exciting, creative, fulfilling, and rewarding. Thus, for one, came the foundation of Liberty, the killing field upon which Progressives and Conservatives, mercilessly and intractably, try to annihilate each other.

Appeasement or Brinksmanship?

What tack are Hilary and Obama going to take?

The President is meeting with leaders of Russia and China, and they have to decide what to do about the potential missile crisis with N. Korea.

Short of beaming reruns of M.A.S.H. over Asia 24/7, the ace-in-the-hole (and I hope they don’t play it this early in the game) is to give up Texas.

I’m sure they’re thinking about it. The Chinese are likely already strutting around, proudly buzzing, “Freddy Mac” in the halls of their government. For Obama, relinquishing the bones of America’s cowboy heritage would trump all other moves. Remember, the east LOVES western culture. Not what it is now, but what it was.

Texas, along with its cattle, dry oil wells, the Alamo (a little irony there), and sagebrush, has a Trojan Horse that pops out of the package: GWBush, still fit and ready to ride. If only Randolph Scott were alive. "Randolph Scott?!"

The stage is set for the new President. The whole world is watching, waiting to see if there really is some substance in his approach. And if indeed, he does have an approach.

Will the ultimate Citizen of the World make more concessions? Will he be played like a fiddle as a blogger wrote, his chalk breaking on that Harvard blackboard of ideology, or is there really something lurking in his personality that will stop the aggression of other world leaders in their tracks?

What would JFK do? That president, with the angst of PT-109 burning in his memory, knew the use of brinksmanship. He matched Russia’s willingness to put all of humanity on the line in a nuclear way, by stepping up to the plate and flexing our once, and still ample, muscle.

Will there be a profile in courage written for our new leader? Not chintzy PR lies, the real deal, based on a real act of bravery, diplomatic or otherwise. The next few weeks will tell.

Surprise?

Wouldn't it be cool if the Lord came back on April Fool's Day?

The Lord's no fool. He may just have a better sense of humor than we think.

The Late Snow

Sit back and have a snack and watch the “Late Snow.”

Dig it. Hey, you don’t have to. It’s going to be gone by Tuesday. Two weeks from now, we’ll be raking the grass and seeding, fertilizing, cooking out.

It’s over, but watch it. Winter’s last gasp can slip us right into the hospital if we’re too cavalier.

Anyone thinking, like me, this is our last winter here? Absolutely. Yeah, sure. I’ve said that for the last 10, 12 years. I still vow to be a snowbird. Key West (Hemmingway), Phoenix, where I have relatives, CA – far away but there’re good friends there. Let’s float down to Peru.

Thinking too deeply on this – not deeply enough – has anyone besides Ed Wynn and Fred MacMurray tried to control the weather in the last 45 years?

C’mon all you young techies. Someone among you should at least come up with a temp dome that could cover the northern cities and maybe farmlands, if you can’t figure out how to mess with the weather. I think the Russians tried. Link us if you know.

Meantime time, curse it or enjoy. It won’t be here much longer. Thanks, God. See you next Christmas. Maybe.