Well, brother, we both know that the world is a train wreck. But that doesn't mean you can't have a nice day." --My spiritual father in the Dominican Order, the late friar Cornelius Hahn*.
What is the future of amoral familism in the Obaman state?
Now who will sing my funeral dirge?
When --as JPNill suggests-- I ask my mother to reveal the mystery of the vanishing green convertible, will she be able to tell me?
What book will I take with me to read on the plane when I go to Toronto and New York next month?
What will it be like to go and come back from the airport by myself now?
What disease (or accident) will be the cause of my death?
Who will come to my funeral?
When will my next really great sexual connection happen?
Will I ever get around to cleaning the kitchen floor?
What will be worse: getting what I want or not getting it?
Since Howard Bloom is right, what if Thomas Sowell is right?
By the time I need my knees replaced, what will the technology be like?
Will the seemingly ineradicable flaws in my character remain ineradicable?
(Funny line on Red Line: "I'm so tired of people bashing the President because he takes so many vacations. I mean, is he doing such a great job when he's working? Maybe we're better off when he's at the beach.")
Time for bed.
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*He was famous for his brisk no-nonsense approach to the spiritual life. I once sat and poured out my fears and insecurities to him. He listened very intently and then reached out and put his hand gently on my forearm and said, "Brother?"
"Yes, Father?" said I.
"Nobody cares."
I loved him.
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