It’s 🎼 beginning ♫ to ⛄️ smell 🎄 a 🎶 lot 🛷 like…

Yup… Xmas is just a few days away.

Fourteen, to be exact, as this is being written.

And Americans have done what Americans do best — commercialize and capitalize upon the sacred.

I mean, what would Xmas be like without Satan Claws, the Ishtar Bunny, Abdominable Snowman, or Rudolph the Brown-Nosed Reindeer, eh?

Maybe that’s too much mixture of metaphones.

But, “merii Kurisumasu,” to you, anyway.

“Kurisumasu” is Japanese, being, of course, the phonetic pronunciation of Christmas, and “merii” being the phonetic pronunciation of the term recognizing the Virgin of Paloma; combine the two, and you have yourselves a merry little Christmas, dear. No more running of the bulls in Pamplona… which should not be confused with melanoma, nor with Oklahoma. Thank you, Will Rogers — the Sooner State’s Favorite Son… who was a Cherokee, a literal honest Injun, a Red Man — not to be confused with the chewing tobacco. And to you too, Fred McFeely Rogers. What would Big Bird be without you? Kentucky Fried Chicken. And Doumo Arigatou (どうもありがとう) to you, Harlan Sanders. And to Komatsu, and John Deere, we send mounds of earth. Now, get moving.

So, what’s the meaning of all this hegemonic, cacophonic, histrionic, mesenteric, miasmatic mess?

Creativity — pure and simple. It’s something made up in the crevices of my creative cranium using things we know about. It’s the use of reality to make a surreality, a phantasy — a thing like the real, somewhat resembling the real, though its most defining characteristic is that it is unreal… very unreal. And we know it.

But seriously, our Japanese brethren have taken a shining to Xmas (but not The Shining), a virtual twinkling of an eye, and/or lights, and/or toes, candy canes, little tin soldiers, and stockings hung by the chimney with care in the hopes that Saint Nick soon will be there, even though Japan is a predominately Shinto and Buddhist nation, just like Middle Eastern nations are predominately Muslim. Seems they like having something to celebrate in the dead of winter, besides soy sauce, saki, and Sony. Now they have Santa. What would a Buddhist Santa look like?

Maybe something like this?

For the Christian faithful, it’s now the Advent season, an annual celebration which consists of the four Sundays before Christmas, or in Eastern Orthodox churches, the 40 days before Christmas, which will then become Christmastide (being the festival observed from December 24 which is Christmas Eve, Christmas Day is the First Day of Christmas, until January 5, the 12th Day of Christmas, which is the eve of Epiphany), then followed by Epiphany.

Got it?

In other words, it’s the season for some of the holiest, and most important days of the year for many orthodox and Catholic Christians, though some Protestant denominations also acknowledge them. And then comes Lent (which is a 40-day period of fasting and penitence observed by many Christians in preparation for Easter, which in Western churches, lasts from Ash Wednesday until Holy Saturday — which is the day before Easter Sunday — excluding Sundays, in which time the observant commemorate the fasting done by Jesus of Nazareth while in the wilderness) and Eastertide referring to the Easter season, which occurs from Easter Sunday to Ascension Day, sometimes also called Whitsunday, or Trinity Sunday, which is 40 days in duration, initiating with Easter Sunday. Easter is ALWAYS on a Sunday, because that’s when many Christians think Jesus of Nazareth was resurrected from death, following his execution by the government, and subsequent entombment.

As the story is told, He was never “properly buried,” per se — which as many now consider it, is to have the mortal remains placed in a casket, which is then inserted inside a concrete vault, which is placed in a hole dug into the ground, then covered with soil — and rather, His body was placed in a cave, the entrance to which reportedly had a large rock placed in front of the entrance as a blockade. Archaeologists, experts and others who’ve scoured the area around Jerusalem have found only 4 round disc-type rolling rocks used as tomb covers/blockades among the 900-plus Second Temple-period burial caves, all of which were examined by examined by archaeologist Amos Kloner, and those were reserved for the very wealthy and/or royalty. Much more likely, and much more common, was a stone, which may have been hewn, used as a type of plug, in a manner somewhat similar to a cork in a bottle.

That is similarly attested to by researcher Dr. Urban Cammilus von Wahlde, PhD, of Loyola University, Chicago, IL, a Research Fellow Yale Divinity School, 1979, member Catholic Biblical Association American, Society Biblical Literature, Chicago Society Biblical Research, etc., who authored an article to that effect which was published in the March/April 2015 issue of the peer-reviewed journal Biblical Archeology Review, in a column entitled “A Rolling Stone That Was Hard to Roll,” in which he analyzed the Gospel accounts to determine how such a stone which was reported to have sealed the cave/tomb, and found in particular in the Gospel of John, in the original Greek, the grammar used yielded a detail which supports the idea that the cave/tomb in which Jesus of Nazareth was reportedly buried was sealed with stone in a cork-like manner. Here’s an image of such a type cave/tomb.

Very few tombs in Jerusalem from the late Second Temple period had round (disk-shaped) rolling stones, which were utilized by those of wealth and royalty, and it was much more common to seal tombs with cork-shaped stones, such as the one seen here. The archaeological evidence strongly suggests that the cave/tomb of Jesus — which the story says was the unused tomb of Joseph of Arimathea — would have been sealed with a cork-shaped stone. Photo: Tom Powers.

Before it seems like we’re getting all bogged down before making a point, please… bear with me, be patient. There’s a reason why, and it’ll be plainly evident soon enough. Very soon, in fact. And these religious holy days/holidays must be enumerated in order to understand what will be presented at that moment, when “the reveal” is made.

So, continuing…

Eastertide, sometimes also called Paschaltide, Paschaltime, or the Paschal season, focuses upon celebrating what the Christian faithful say is the

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Festivus, etc.

While I NO LONGER make any claims to be “religious,” practice any religious faith, or have anything to do with any kind of religion, faith, or the practice thereof, there are some things that, it seems to me, if there was a god/dess, such a being would be unlike us in practically every way… at least most of us.

Such a “god/goddess” or supreme being, would be concerned with our lives, the lives of humans on Earth, and with practically, or actually, every picayune thing associated with life here on this planet.

The relationship of humans to one another, to each other, the relationship of humans to the planet upon which they live, and upon which they rely as the very source of life itself, for food, for water, for clothing, for housing, for EVERYTHING — EVERY LITTLE THING — that pertains to life, including every minuscule joy, or momentary and passing pleasure, happiness, the taste of food, of smell, perfumes, aromas, all kinds of love, including sexual pleasures… ALL THAT would be a concern of a supreme/divine being, simply because that being loves those who live upon, and from, the Earth.

There is no god/goddess/supreme/diving being like that. At least there is none like that preached from most pulpits in churches, synagogues, mosques, temples and other houses of worship. And so, therefore, by virtue of that lack, that absence, I am led to conclude, that substantial lack, that fundamental absence of such a being — that again, being a being which is so full of love, and wisdom, that it cannot help but give, for giving is its very nature — that there is not such a one. There is no god/goddess/creator/divine being.

Yet, as a scientist, I must admit that we do not yet know, nor can prove, and so therefore, it is reasonable and rational to suppose that the possibility might exist, however small, that there might be such an one. But again, the likelihood is so minuscule, so microscopic, that its practically (for all practical purposes) non-existent. If it, the possibility, were but one grain of sand on the Earth, it would be so substantial, so life-changing. But those who have changed their lives have done so themselves, some with help of others, while others have done it alone. Jesus of Nazareth is even reputed to have told the renown parable story known widely as “The Prodigal Son” who “came to himself,” or as some versions put it, “finally came to his senses.” There is no indication that the son had any help in the matter.

But, it’s nice to think about the possibilities that a “supernatural,” even divine being exists, because again, if it were so, it would be a global game-changer. But, it’s also nice to think about eating all the ice cream, cake, pie, and other sweet treats that one could possibly want, without having any adverse side effect, like weight gain.

And so, this creature, this divine/supreme being… I think about a song which became popular some years ago

Merry Christmas! Will Santa bring you a gun?

This image of a c.1950’s United States family with a Christmas tree depicts a male child with a “toy” gun aiming it at his younger sister seated upon father’s lap.

Contrary to popular belief, it hasn’t been uncommon to gift children with deadly/lethal firearms around Christmastime.

And so, the mass shooting at Oxford High School in Oxford Township in suburban Detroit by Ethan Crumbley, whose parents James and Jennifer Crumbley gifted him with a pistol, were only doing what has for years been a rite — gifting kids with guns.

We give toys to children, and if a child abuses a baby doll, ripping off its head and limbs, burning and beating it, we would almost immediately suspect something is amiss, awry, and seriously wrong with the child who did such things to it.

But, we seem to have, or express, some faux sense of amazement, pseudo-bewilderment, disdainful incuriousity, or worse, apparently think little-to-nothing, of a mid-to-late teen who maliciously uses firearm(s) to kill people, though that is the ostensibly exclusive purpose (the “proper use”) for which they’re created.

On 30 November 2021, Ethan Crumbley, a 15-year-old sophomore student at Oxford High School in Oxford Township, Michigan, a Detroit suburb, murdered 4 students, injured 7, which included a teacher, with a high-capacity semi-automatic pistol gifted to him by his parents James and Jennifer Crumbley.

All 3 are charged with

Merry F’n Christmas

Pregnant by someone to whom she is not married… unwed, refugees, homeless… foreigners in a foreign land.

Yeah.

What a story, eh?

“Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”

Yeahbut… Jesus, when did we see you as a thief, child molester or murderer in prison, eh?

“Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.”

That’s just tough shit for some, eh?

Church nativity depicts Jesus, Mary and Joseph as family separated at border

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/church-nativity-depicts-jesus-mary-joseph-family-separated-border-n1097891

Repulsed by report of staff raping women at Florida federal prison, Rubio demands inquiry

“Dear Santa, Can I cook microwave popcorn on the stove-top?,” and other preposterously absurd questions.

Some years ago, while attending university, during the Christmas season, I portrayed “Santa” on a local television station.

The show was aptly called “Letters to Santa,” and was a LIVE TELEVISION BROADCAST PRODUCTION, which aired, appropriately enough, in the late afternoons after grade-school children were out of school for the day.

The show’s tenet was simple enough, children would send their letters to Santa, care of the television station – some of which would be read during the show (live, on the air), in conjunction with live participants who would attend with their parents to tell the Jolly Old Elf if they’d been naughty, or nice, and what they’d like for Christmas.

The show’s Executive Producer (who has long since gone to the great broadcasting center in the sky) did his best to prepare me for the role, which included off-the-air role-playing scenarios, and other tips and tricks for how to handle the attendees, and studio viewing audience, which also included how to effectively deal with children who might be fearful, belligerent, timid, crying, or demonstrating any other of the numerous emotions for which they’re renown for demonstrating – including their parents, who can sometimes also act like their children.

Fortunately, such a topsy-turvy scenario didn’t present itself… as best I recollect.

Because it was important to him, to the station (for community relations purposes) – and to the parents – to not place the parents in a untenable scenario by being perceived as an anything-you-want wish-granting jolly old elf (whose promises to children the parents might not be inclined, or able to keep), it was crucial to give as non-committal an answer as possible when the children sat on Santa’s knee to make their requests – however scant, or numerous they may have been.

While most children were reasonable in their requests – and honest about their year-long behavior – some children (very few) were not, and had lengthy lists with seemingly endless self-centered wants. Again, like standard normal distribution in statistics tells us, those children were very few, just as were the ones who had no requests for themselves.

Of course, there were a few occasional socially-related requests such as getting mama, or daddy out of prison or jail, wanting family members to get well (some who had terminal illnesses), and the like.

Not very many wanted world peace, or any such thing.

And naturally, there were a few who, for whatever reason, simply didn’t “believe in” the Jolly Old Elf.

I guess for some parents, it easier to tell their children a lie, than it is to present a simple truth – there is NO “Santa Claus” who flies around the world in a reindeer-driven sleigh delivering toys to children. Besides, Jolly Old St. Nicholas might get arrested for Breaking & Entering if he was able to scoot his corpulent carcass down a soot-laden chimney… which might be in use during the winter.

That wouldn’t end well.

But the 1952 song “I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus,” written by native Mississippian Jimmy Devon Boyd (1939-2009), does a well-enough job of explaining the truth about the matter, anyway.

Speaking of which, the song was banned in Boston by the Catholic Church the year it was released, which claimed it was overtly sexual.

Of course, that only made the recording by the then-13-year-old boy sell better.

But… if you stop to think about it, Santa Claus is banging your wife!

And, it gives an entirely new meaning to “Ho, ho, ho!”

There’s a reason that Jolly Old Elf is so jolly!

And, that’s exactly what the Catholic Church taught. (Never mind the pedophile priests.)

PRO TIP: Write a Christmas-themed song. It’ll provide money to you annually, and for your heirs – 70 years after your death. Not a bad deal, eh?

Anyway… back to the Santa story.

It took me aback to

Merry F’n Christmas… there’s not enough love on the borderline, or anywhere else.

Musicians and artists are the voices of the prophets.

They ARE our prophets.

Their consciences are often our nation’s collective voice of conscience. For many radio stations, the only profit they care about is traded on Wall Street, and their consciences are not tethered to trouble, or pricked by care for others’ problems. Their profit is all that matters, for their god is green and cold, and easily fits into any wallet. It has crowded out natural love in the calculi of their now-inhuman hearts.

And, for one reason, or another, it seems that these days, there are very few voices “crying in the wilderness,” or elsewhere, about social injustice.

But three years ago – in 2015 – musician/artist Chip Taylor wrote a song entitled “Refugee Children.” It should be heard by everyone, though it certainly hasn’t.

Whether one is a believer in the story of the virgin birth, or any god, the basic fundamental element of that ageless story is that a small family with a young pregnant bride were refugees, homeless, with only the clothes on their backs.

Any well-read person, regardless of any religious belief, or not, should be familiar with the story told in

Walking Through Darkness

Saint John of the Cross (1542–1591), aka ‘San Juan de la Cruz’ in Spanish, was a Spanish mystic most well known for writing the highly-regarded book “The Dark Night of the Soul,” which explores

A Jolly Good Tradition

Saint Nicholas spoke out against heresies and was imprisoned for a time for his Christian beliefs. His faithfulness is exemplary, but charity remains his signature virtue. What started with Nicholas tossing a few bags of coins into a poor family’s yard has been transformed over centuries of retelling, embellishing, grafting, and adapting into the magical tales of Ole Saint Nick (Father Christmas, Santa Claus, Kris Kringle), whose yearly ambition is to deliver gifts to every girl and boy. We may not

Huntsville Hospital Kills Child: Permanently Disabled 1y/o Child Later Died

Welcome to Alabama, where the legal concept of respondeat superior apparently does NOT apply.

Some would call this murder.

If a person driving drunk kills someone, nowadays, they’re charged with murder – even though they did not plan, or intend upon killing someone (the element of premeditation, or forethought).

But why isn’t Huntsville Hospital charged with murder? (It’s kinda’ difficult to charge a corporation with murder, but it’s quite possible that the officers can be indicted or charged.)

And why aren’t those directly responsible (those in the Recovery Room who were responsible for Gracie’s care) charged with Murder?

It’s painfully obvious some things MUST change in Alabama regarding healthcare.

—

Girl disabled, later dies, after tonsillectomy at Huntsville Hospital; Alabama public hospitals‘ liability capped at $100,000

By Challen Stephens | cstephens@al.com on December 03, 2012 at 1:03 PM, updated December 03, 2012 at 4:18 PM

Randy Smith and Deedee Smith talk about raising a child with disabilities while Gracelynn, 5, sits in her wheelchair during an interview in their home Monday, November 19, 2012 in Athens, Ala. (Eric Schultz / eschultz@al.com)

HUNTSVILLE, Alabama — Four years ago, Gracie knew a few dozen words and had just learned to walk backwards. But Gracie had a little trouble breathing at night. Doctors said it would only get worse, so they decided to remove her tonsils.

The surgery lasted less than 15 minutes.

In the recovery room at Huntsville Hospital, Gracie was standing on her bed calling for her mother. “We were told she was having difficulty coming out of anesthesia,” said her father Randy Smith. Nurses said the girl needed to rest to recover. In the recovery room, the family says, she was allowed to stop breathing for more than 10 minutes.

Dan Aldridge, attorney for the Smiths, said Gracie “was not connected to the customary monitoring equipment that sounds an alarm if vital signs reach a dangerous zone.” He said the nurses, three of them, were in the recovery room. At one point, her mother voiced concern. “I was told, ‘Mom, now don’t wake her up, if we get her up, we will never calm her down,” said Dee Dee Smith. “My response was she was not breathing.”

Dee Dee said one of the nurses touched the girl’s foot. It was cold. Aldridge said “code” was called. Medical staff poured into the room. Gracie would spend the next 18 hours in a coma. When Dee Dee finally got to hold her girl again, the girl’s eyes were open but

For just one moment… forget about what Jesus would do.

Today was a good day at work.

I cried.

The last time I recollect crying at work was at least 6 or more years ago when a patient of mine – a young black male, who was his mother’s only son – had been murdered, and as I looked into her bloodshot, tired, hollow, intently peering and watery eyes, volumes were communicated though we neither said a word.

I couldn’t bear her gaze, and after what seemed ages, I averted my eyes, and departed behind a nearby curtain in the Trauma ICU to cry. There, my tears flowed like twin rivers, swollen by a storm, albeit an emotional one, which was joined by the two smaller tributaries of my nostrils. Gazing over the city from atop the 11th story of the teaching hospital through tear-drenched eyes, I wondered… was this what dear Mother Mary felt like when she gazed upon her only son as he hung from that cross?

Today, I wept for

Hapless Holidays!

It would be in poor taste for me to

AL Governor Bentley: Reform Ethics Law… the one I helped write.

Governor Bentley’s office recently Tweeted the following message December 14, 2010 @14:50: Amend the Ethics law so that teachers are allowed to receive seasonal gifts. http://tinyurl.com/7n6w6jj

The reader should be aware that Dr. Bentley was a representative legislator from Tuscaloosa whom helped write, approve and pass the bill that became law when it was signed by then-governor Bob Riley, also a Republican.

As any citizen ought, I held great hope for numerous good things to happen to Alabama when the people elected Robert J. Bentley, MD (R), as the next governor.

However, it seems that

Ten Great Tips for 2011: #4

Wow!

Can you imagine it!?!

Here we are, on the twelfth day of the New Year!

January is almost half way over!

You know what that means…

Springtime is on its way!

And, as promised, today is the fourth of the weekday installments in our Ten Great Tips for 2011!

Let’s see that #4 is!

Ten Great Tips for 2011: #3

Hi! Welcome back!

It’s good to see you again, this Tuesday morning!

We’re already eleven days into the New Year, and things are off to a great start!

Let’s take a look at our third of Ten Great Tips for 2011!

Here’s 3#!

Upcoming: Tips for the New Year!

A dear, retired professor friend of mine shared something with me via e-mail recently, which made my day when I read it!

I’d like to share it with you…

The Second Day of Christmas in Dixie – Audio Post

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Merry Christ Mass!!

Merry Christ Mass. Or if you prefer… Merry Christmas!

Some assert that no Mass is needed, that perhaps the day of the celebration of the LORD’s birth should be called “Christ Day.”

However, an examination of the origin and derivation of the word – its etymology – reveals something entirely fascinating.

First, it should be understood that

Advent: Christ comes so the world may be shaken

Advent: Christ comes so the world may be shaken

As we enter the last few days before we rightly give our hearts over to the joy of Christmas, we might take a few minutes in prayer over two brief passages from the past about the meaning of Advent.

Here’s the first.  The great Lutheran pastor and theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer once wrote that:

“We have become so accustomed to the idea of divine love and of God’s coming at Christmas that we no longer feel

Just in time for Christmas!

*!* Conspicuous Consumption *!*

*!* Consumer Alert *!*

From our “Useless Junk Aimed at the Stupidly Über Wealthy” Department:

With “Black Friday” looming in a few days, it’s not too early to begin thinking about what you’ll get for that person whom “has everything”!

Perhaps you work

Christmastime Blackmail & Terrorism

“We wish you a Merry Christmas… and a Happy New Year!”

So ends the traditional holiday song heard by most this time of year.

However, do you know the other lyrics?

“Oh bring us some figgy pudding, Oh bring us some figgy pudding, Oh bring us some figgy pudding, and bring it out now!

“We won’t go until we get some, We won’t go until we get some, We won’t go until we get some, and get some right here!”

“Bring it out now,” and “We won’t go until we get some?”

Sounds to me like a blackmail threat.

Please!

Call 9-1-1 ! NOW!

Corporate Choir Crap

I sing in our parish choir. Though I’m a new member of the parish and choir, I’m not new to singing, having sung and been musical since a young child. As a matter of fact, I earned scholarship to attend university on the trumpet. So I definitely know my way around any musical rehearsal or activity.

Recently, we performed at “Santa’s Village,” a Christmas seasonal and decorative activity of Alabama’s Constitution Village in downtown Huntsville. As well, we’ve been “invited” to perform at “Bridge Street Town Centre,” a recently-constructed shopping center, er… excuse me, a “premier mixed-use lifestyle center,” adjacent Cummings Research Park.

Our choir director recently sent out an ‘oh, by the way…’ e-mail message stating in part that there was “some more info about… the release form that needs to be signed and returned” and that “you cannot perform without it.”

After browsing that SEVEN pages of corporate crap… I made the following observations and remarks.

• “Performers are responsible for ensuring that their audience does not block customer traffic, access to vendor stalls, or cause a safety hazard.”

Should we bring our own bouncers, too? (Y’all keep in line, ’cause introducing…  “The St. Mary’s Bouncers!”)

• “Juggling knives, swords, sharp sticks or other objects deemed dangerous are strictly prohibited. All dangerous activity will be stopped. Failure to comply will result in a call to Huntsville Police Department and removal from the grounds.”

Dang! There goes crowd control!

• “Drinking of alcoholic beverages or performing while intoxicated or under the influence of controlled substances is prohibited.”

There goes having a beer with a sandwich, and wine with the meal.

• “All signage displaying the name of the act must be professionally made or computer generated. They cannot be handwritten.”

For years, painters have hand-written signs all over this town and America. Would it be acceptable for a computer to print a hand-written font… say, Comic Sans or Chalkboard, for example, be acceptable? And what about Chinese or Japanese? That ancient and classic form of writing is one of the world’s highest forms of calligraphic art which is done exclusively by hand.

• “I give permission to Bridge Street…. including… recordings or videos, without charge and without reservation, all or a portion of my story… I waive any rights…”

Nope. “Audemus jura nostra defendere.” It’s Alabama’s state motto, and means, “We dare defend our rights.” Women? Wanna give up that right to vote? Any non-white folks wanna’ voluntarily reduce themselves to the 1/3 person they were before Emancipation? Nope. I didn’t think so. I think I’ll keep my rights. Isn’t that what our troops are fighting for? Voluntary surrender our rights to some corporate mogul? I don’t think so.

• “… will indemnify, defend with counsel acceptable to… Wells Fargo Bank…”

Wait just a dog-gone minute. Didn’t I pay for their bail-out? And now you want me to have legal counsel “acceptable to…” you? I don’t think so! What’s next? Perhaps my choice of breakfast food is not acceptable. We private citizens accept responsibility. Why can’t corporations?

You know, I’m all for singing and having a good time – such as what we enjoyed at Constitution Hall Village – and we weren’t required to so anything but show up and sing.

This is not fun.

Count me out.