A Penny Earned?

For three straight trips to United Parcel Service to ship three small packages - I am not making this up - the shipping cost each time was exactly $11.92. The weights were about the same although the contents and exact size of the packages varied slightly. Still: three straight times where the charges were identical? "Maybe it's just a minimum charge," me brother Phil suggested.

I blew that theory out of the water with a fourth parcel. When the girl behind the counter told me to insert my debit card into the reader I saw - I am still not making anything up - that the charge that time was Eleven Dollars and Ninety One Cents. One. Penny. Off.

What are the chances of that, I ask?

Sterilizing God

Does God Judge? Folks often tell us, when arguing with someone over a difficult question (typically a question which violates long accepted, ahem, judgments about right and wrong) that we cannot judge. They attempt to reinforce this idea by judging - sorry, arguing - that God tells us not to judge. Indeed, they assert, a loving God would never judge. My issue at that point is that God clearly judges. Good judgments, yes, often, but doesn't He also make what are profoundly negative judgments?

Obviously He does. The Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 25, has three straight parables where the foolish or sinful are condemned, ending with Christ's explanation about the sheep and the goats being separated (on Judgment Day, as it were). He calls the Pharisees a 'Brood of Vipers'. He expels the moneychangers from the Temple. He cursed a fig tree, for crying out loud, causing it to shrivel and die. God judges, and sometimes in the negative. It's a simple as that. Why bother with any parables, or those pesky Commandments, if He wasn't meaning to hold us to a standard?

To assert that God doesn't judge is to sterilize Him. If He can't call something bad, I don't see where He might call anything good. There's no worthwhile reason to honor such an impotent being.

Talking to Myself

"Marty?"

"Yeah, Marty?"

"Is it true that you're as old as you feel?"

"Sure it is. Course."

"Care to test that theory Marty?"

"Whatcha got in mind Marty?"

"Just a little yard work, that's all"

"You're on, Marty!"

Ninety minutes later...

"Marty?"

"What, Marty?" asked testily.

"How old do you feel?"

"Shaddup, Marty. And will ya keep the leaf bag open this time?"

Tis the Season

I like Christmas. I really do. But I am one of the grumpy ones who could stand to see it back off a little.

Christmas commercials are already inundating the world. Buy! Buy! Buy! You need New Wonderful Thing! You can't live without it!

I bet you can.

The decorations are nice, and I do like seeing them. I'm still old school enough to look forward to Midnight Mass. Indeed, Midnight Mass and the quiet half hour I'll spend watching A Charlie Brown Christmas would do me fine, to be honest. Turning on the radio or listening to a CD of traditional Christmas music is quite enjoyable. I find the greatest happiness is in the small, sublime aspects of life. The commercialism I can certainly do without.

So on the whole I'll be happy enough. I'll likely even watch one Hallmark movie: flashy three piece suit city guy ought to lose the girl to red flannel shirt small town bumpkin. I do take far too much delight in that. 

All Souls Day

Jesus told St. Gertrude that the following prayer, when said with devotion, would release 1,000 souls from Purgatory each time it is said: "Eternal Father, I offer you the precious blood of your Divine Son, Jesus, in union with the Masses said today for all the souls in Purgatory, for sinners everywhere, even those in my own home and family. Amen."

Today, on All Souls Day, let's pray that prayer.

Halloween Stats

I have no way of knowing for certain, but last night may have been the best Halloween in terms of numbers that we've had. They just kept coming and coming, sometimes in waves, usually a few at a time. But we passed out candy from about 5:15 until after 8:30. Typically there's just a two hour window of, say, 6-8.

The weather was great. It was warm for a late October day here in the D, 65 in fact. Perhaps it reflects the pent up demand from the COVID years too. People can finally relax again.

On the whole, the trick or treaters were quite cordial. We complain that manners are gone by the wayside but I didn't see it last night. Lots of thank yous  and such. There was even a small marching band dressed for the occasion and going around the neighborhood. Other than some old guy's back giving out from standing so long, it wasn't a bad night at all. 

The Hatred that is Football

I want to show him the hatred that is football.

-Hank Hill, explaining the reason for taking his son Bobby to his first college football game.

Apparently there was a bit of post game dust up between Michigan and Michigan State players after last Saturday's Big Game in Ann Arbor. As of this writing, it is said that nine State players allegedly attacked two Michigan players after Michigan's 29-7 win. This comes after there were issues between Penn State and U of M in the same general area a week earlier. As both teams playing at the Big House (the nickname for Michigan's football stadium) have to exit the same tunnel to reach their locker rooms, there are calls for the school to change the way teams leave the field.

How about a few calls to train these young men, who by playing football are supposed to be changing into mature older men, to keep themselves in check? I know that's easier said than done, given that football seems hell bent on firing up emotions to the boiling point before and during games. And maybe that's the real problem. We stoke the coals of these guys to think of the other team as some kind of enemy invading their territory yet expect them to immediately chill after the final whistle.

Football isn't alone in this, although it does seem to me the main perpetrator. Overwrought celebrations after nearly ever damn play is bound to teach players egotism, an I'm better than you attitude, rather than sportsmanship.

Those are human beings on the other side of the line, guys. Show some respect. A pat on the helmet or back is enough congratulations as a rule. Running towards the sideline or the end zone looking for cameras to self comment on your awesomeness to the world is simply gauche, even mean spirited. You're being, at best, a jerk when you do that. Displays of your superiority are bound to make the other side seethe; the whole thing feeds on itself. What do we get, then?

Fights on the way to the locker room.

Yes, King of the Hill is comedy, and Hank Hill is a comic character. Yet the best humor often reflects certain truths in life. I believe Hank is onto one of them. His remark does not reflect well on reality.