Scattershots

Oops, by writing scattershots, am I promoting a culture of gun violence? Heaven forefend.

This week, Ash Wednesday and Valentine's Day are right next to each other. Meaningful coincidence?

An over-80 year old priest I know is asking to be laicized so he can marry his almost as old ladyfriend.

I often find my own character a cross to bear. It is, in fact, my principal cross. Nothing causes me as much chronic and serious grief as myself. As Pogo said, We have met the enemy and he is us.

An old friend who was in religious community with me reminded me of the usual solution given by the old Father Master to novices who came to him with problems or complaints: Go look in the mirror, Brother. And when you're done, go look again.

Have you noticed that the MSM often refer to a person, group or position as "rightwing" or "far-right" but almost never as "leftwing" or "far-left?" The children of Marcuse.

What I have to eat and drink during a day can vary quite a lot, but having a good big shot of coffee first thing in the morning is not very negotiable. My own blend from the $7 a pound store down the street is half Espresso and half French Roast. Boom. The hot, steaming, bitter-sweet syrupy nectar of daybreak. (I even bring it with me when I travel.) And I hardly ever drink coffee all day after that.

B was talking about the sensational violence in San Francisco when he was young: the Patty Hearst thing, the Zodiac killer, the (hidden away and not mentioned Black on White) Zebra murders. I can remember the assassinations of both Kennedys and of Martin Luther King, the riots, etc. and all the Vietnam-related stuff. But I was young and somehow these things did not portend The End to me. Although I do know young men who are declinists --some more vehement than I-- it doesn't seem far-fetched to link age with perception.

Because, when you are 20, you can't imagine your own end, it's hard to imagine your world's end. As you approach your sell-by date, it's easier.