Reason No. 123 ...

I've lost count, but the number seems reasonable. I'm talking about the number of reasons I'm mad at our diocesan leaders and their ACN confreres.

Mother Marvelous is leaving. I've known for a few months, but just haven't been able to bring myself to talk about it.

She's leaving because she's been an assisting priest for more than three years, and it's time. She's more than ready to be a rector, but the odds of a female getting a gig as a rector in this diocese are just about nil, even if she were willing to sign the AAC/ACN creed in her own blood. The only clergy to get jobs in this diocese last year were men -- mostly old, white men -- and the ones who weren't old made up for their lack of years with an excess of "orthodoxy" and "traditionalism."

A diocese willing to lose someone like her just proved its own craziness.

Mother Marvelous has all the qualities a good rector needs. She's smart, a brilliant administrator, efficient and organized. She also uses those pastoral qualities of compassion, understanding, loving, comforting, teaching, encouraging, shepherding -- and kicking you in the seat, when you need it. There's no one better suited to the role of priest, or rector, than MM.

Without her to talk to, I don't know how I'd have gotten through all the crap of the last couple of years.

She's talking to some interested parishes -- in other dioceses. I'm praying she gets a great post. She deserves it, and the parish who gets her will be lucky. If your non-Network parish is looking for a great rector like her, let me know.

But I'm mad she has to leave.

I'm grieving. Along with most of the congregation.

The little chapel

I took this shot of the chapel at the Church of Open Arms on the evening of Epiphany. I love this little-old chapel. It's Florida carpenter Gothic, with beautiful stained-glass windows and creaky wooden pews and floors.



The Epiphany service was beautiful, complete with incense-swinging Magi. It helped lift me out of my malaise. O, Gaspar, Melchior and Balthazaar!

A lady I've been bringing Communion to for the past year and a half died Monday. I went to a service for her yesterday. It's sad to lose her, but it was her time and she was ready to go. She was elderly, crippled with arthritis and other problems. I think she'd really been ready the past few months, since her health took the last big hit. I feel like our Savior/Healer has delivered her from her distress, and she's now where she wants to be.

The down side of being involved in pastoral care ministry is that most of its recipients are elderly and pretty much all are in poor health, so you deal with a lot of death. But the more I see, the more I realize how much a release death can be, when it comes at the right time.

I'm a volunteer chaplain at the local hospital, and there I see it come at what seems the "wrong" time, all too often. There's no comfort for the parents of a stillborn baby, or a woman who loses her still-youthful husband after routine surgery. Those cases I can only offer up to God and know they're dealt with through divine wisdom, beyond my understanding.

****
So anyway, we've had beautiful weather the past week -- clear, with highs in the 70s and 80s, after a cold snap that made Christmas seem more like Christmas.

It's supposed to turn cold again, with a freeze tomorrow night. Yikes! It's a panic around here when it freezes. All the ferneries, major agriculture in Central Florida, have to try and protect their fragile crops. The water lines from my well freeze up if it stays below freezing for long.

The weather forecast said we might get some nasty wind tonight, as the cold front passes through. I'd better go batten down the hatches.

Blessings to you all. Stay warm.

Arise, shine, for your light has come!

Isaiah's words are taken as prophecy of the Messiah who was to come.

Today's Daily Bread/Forward Movement commentator noted the story of the three wise men, and how easy it was for them and some Christians to find that light, to find Christ. For some, it's a certain thing.

For the commentator, it's a search. It's questions and questing, rather than certainty:

Some of us want that kind of journey with a clear point of arrival. Many who know the day and hour they found Jesus and were saved experience that kind of journey. A 1980s bumper sticker said it all -- "I've found It!"

"For better or worse that is not my experience. Mine is an ongoing quest marked by occasional moments of insight or mysterious experience of the Holy, but mostly by days and months of wilderness travel and no bright star to guide me.
My '’80s bumper sticker read, "I'’ve lost it."

From a number of conversations I've had, It's not easy for most people. It isn't for me. I know what pointed me to Christ; the rest has been a quest (sorry about the rhyme)

Sometimes that light shines very brightly; it surrounds me. At other times, I feel like I'm wandering dark, empty streets, seeking the light I once had.

Someone will surely tell me it's me who moved away, not God, and they're surely right.

That doesn't help.

Maybe it's better that life is a quest to know God, to search, to strain to become more Christlike. Otherwise, I'd be smugly complacent.

I excel at missing the mark; I often feel like the most unChristlike person around. That because I am definitely unChristlike. I'm not even Saintly.

I've had those God experiences. I've felt that light enveloping me. It tells me that despite my failures, God takes delight in me and loves me.

That's what I cling to on the dark nights.

Tomorrow is Epiphany. I'll try to heed the prophet's words, to arise and shine.

I wish you all a wonderful day.

Peace on Earth ...

... and mercy mild ...

... God and sinner reconciled

A good Christmas was had around the UnSaintly household. The animals enjoyed the treats from the Cornish hen I baked before Christmas, and I baked a lot of cookies to give as gifts.

One of the local pastors invited me to his house for a Christmas Eve get together, then I chaliced at the midnight/ Christmas Eve service -- my favorite -- and spent Christmas day with close friends.

I think some of my church family members were concerned that it would be a difficult Christmas for me, in the wake of Toby's death, but he was never around at Christmas, anyway. I grieved a bit in a general way over the disintegration of my family, and Toby's death was a part of that, but over all, it was a good Christmas.


I appreciate all the Christmas invitations and the love that surrounds me at my church and from my friends.

Some of the things I like about the Episcopal Church are the seasons of Advent and Christmas.

I grew up with the secular version. I'm so tired of the hype that starts in October and culminates just before Christmas, with even the television news giving "news" reports on where to shop, then it all just stops dead, as if once the packages are ripped open, Christmas is done.

Now, Christmas doesn't start until Dec. 25, and it lasts until Epiphany, on Jan. 6, giving me to consider and celebrate its real meaning. And that month before Christmas is Advent, a time for reflection and preparation for receiving Christ into my heart anew.

It isn't all about hitting the stores.

May New Year's be good!

The great Bleedin' Jesus controversy

Central Florida is an odd amalgam of native Crackers and transplanted Yankees, of conservative and liberal. Especially in my little burg, where most of the churches are conservative. There are a few who advertise they are open and affirming, where even liberals are welcome.

The local Christmas parade is a mixture of small-corporate self-hype, small businesses striving to be noticed, police- and fire- department vehicles on noisy display, school, church and civic groups, and, of course Santa Claus. Better throw in some ROTC and Veterans groups dressed in camo.

The church floats have always been fine. They celebrate the birth of Baby Jesus. Church choirs balance precariously, singing Christmas carols as their floats bobble down Main Street. Kids dressed as shepherds grin at the crowd. Peace and joy is the message of the day.

This year, one new/young independent-church minister decided to impress on everyone the true meaning of Christmas: that Christ was born to die for our sins. A traditional manger scene was dwarfed by the pastor himself, costumed as a bloody Jesus, writhing, moaning and dying on the cross.

For once, even a lot of conservative Christians and I shared the same viewpoint, that this is not an appropriate theme for a Christmas float. I covered the controversy for the newspaper, and asked for community discussion on it.

Most of the letters from conservative Christians supported the erstwhile pastor, who said he really didn't mean to offend anyone or make little children cry, as some of the letters to the editor and calls to parade organizers complained. He just wanted to get out the true meaning of Christmas.

After interviewing him, I don't cast aspersions on his motives. He just didn't get it that not everyone at the Christmas parade is a Bible-study member with a good grasp of the meaning of the Crucifixion. I'm sure he expected some attention for his fledging home church, and kudos as one standing up for "real" Christian values in this age of calling Christmas the holiday season and taking the 10 Commandments out of the courthouse. He didn't expect complaints from angry, offended parents of small, crying children.

Heck, The Passion is the stuff of full Lenten-season studies. A depiction of the Crucifixion on a Christmas-parade float isn't going to win any converts.

And Christmas parades are a time of fun and celebration, aimed at toddlers and young children -- not the place for such heavy subjects.

So, now, the questions arises, should the parade sponsor, a local civic group, screen floats more carefully? Do we increase censorship?

I don't like that idea, either.



p.s. -- I promise to post more often.

The Gospel of fear

Pat Robertson. Peter Akinola. The Bishop of the Diocese of Central Florida. Many in my parish, and other parishes around.

All "Orthodox." All "traditional." Not all are as hateful in their comments as Pat Robertson.

The Bishop, when he made his visitation to my parish recently, made a strong effort to appear center of the road, although he used AAC/ANC rhetoric like, "If the Episcopal Church decides to walk alone..." His take on the Windsor Report is that it's intent was to rebuke the revisionist Episcopal Church and make it behave -- not, apparently, to find a path to reconciliation.

He tried to walk a tight rope, not committing to staying or going. He intimated that some parishes may join AMiA.

If you allow homosexuality, he said, the next thing you know, you'll have polygamy and bestiality.

Well, then, I guess we'd better not have any sexuality at all. If you have heterosexuality, that opens the door to homosexuality and the path straight to hell. Paul had it right -- we should abstain from relationships and wait to be beamed up in the rapture.

. I look at the "Orthodox" element and wonder if fear controls their lives. Do they fear inclusiveness ?? Do they fear no longer belong to a special, exclusive elect?

Do they fear loss of control, that the people around them will run amuck, fornicating and otherwise sinning, if they don't keep a short leash on them?

Are they afraid they themselves will run amuck? What secret lusts lie in their hearts?

Are they afraid they will lose their own faith if aspects of it are questioned, if they have to examine it?

I wonder how afraid they really are.

That doesn't mean the Pat Robertsons and the Peter Akinolas aren't dangerous. They are. They want political and spiritual control of people's lives. They harden prejudice and incite discrimination, leading to harm of gays, women, anyone who thinks differently and anyone else they consider lesser beings.

I'm praying our Episcopal Church leaders will have the sense to stay away from their mentality.

Please spare me

Pat Robertson is at it again. He had this to say to the Dover, Penn. Citizens who voted out the school board -- the school board which instituted the "intelligent design" policy that led to a federal trial.

"I'd like to say to the good citizens of Dover: If there is a disaster in your area, don't turn to God, you just rejected him from your city. And don't wonder why he hasn't helped you when problems begin, if they begin. I'm not saying they will, but if they do, just remember, you just voted God out of your city. And if that's the case, don't ask for his help because he might not be there."

First: Robertson forgets that God is the one to make judgments, not Robertson, who equates disagreement with Robertson as a vote against God. What an ego. What hatefulness. Disagree with Robertson and burn in hell!

Second: God is much more loving than Robertson. (Obviously. Thank God!)

Third: How does Robertson know God's intelligent design of the universe didn't include "scientific" matters such as evolution, an expanding universe, etc? God is infinitely more patient with creation and in the process of creating than we are. He has all the time in the world, after all. And his sense of time is not ours. A millennium is to him is as a watch in the night (three hours) is to us.

It's people like Pat Robertson, with this kind of mean-spiritedness, using the name of God to bash their enemies and maintain their strongholds, who kept me away from religion most of my life.

Go away somewhere, Mr. Robertson, and meditate on the Gospels. Quietly. Please.

Disease or suicide by drink? You decide

I've been thinking about my brother, Toby, the past week, as All Souls day approached (it was yesterday). I attended a great church service last night, done in candlelight, with time to reflect on those we've lost in the past year.

In the coming Sunday service, the Necrology will be read. It's a listing of all those who have died in the past year — members of the parish or loved ones of members in the parish.. I entered Toby's name in the book, and delivered his photo to the church. It will sit on the altar, with the other photos, Sunday.

I've been thinking about his death. He pretty much drank himself to death. He shouldn't have died at the age of 48, but he did. At times, I think of his death as a suicide, because he knew the drinking was killing him, but he didn't stop.

I think, really, he couldn't stop. Toby had a lot of demons, but alcohol is a demon of its own. Toby couldn't live without it, but he couldn't live with it, either. Liver and stomach problems run in the family, even forteatotalers. Toby didn't stand a chance.

It's true Toby struggled with himself all his life. He was ashamed of being homosexual. I knew nothing about any relationships he may have had, because he wouldn't talk about such things, period. He was secretive. I doubt he had many personal relationships, especially the last few years.

On top of that, he struggled with the same hypercritical family crap I did, with the sense of not being acceptable, of being unable to do anything right or well enough.

Still, was it suicide, or was it a disease that killed him?

Either way, I believe he now has joy and peace, in the love and grace of God. I can only hold to God's promises.

If it were not so, he would have told us.

Calling a spade a spade

or at least calling it a digging implement

The Old Testament reading in church this past Sunday was Micah 3:5-12:

Thus says the LORD concerning the prophets
who lead my people astray,
who cry "Peace"
when they have something to eat,
but declare war against those
who put nothing into their mouths.
Therefore it shall be night to you, without vision,
and darkness to you, without revelation.
The sun shall go down upon the prophets,
and the day shall be black over them;
the seers shall be disgraced,
and the diviners put to shame;
they shall all cover their lips,
for there is no answer from God.
But as for me, I am filled with power,
with the spirit of the LORD,
and with justice and might,
to declare to Jacob his transgression
and to Israel his sin.
Hear this, you rulers of the house of Jacob
and chiefs of the house of Israel,
who abhor justice
and pervert all equity,
who build Zion with blood
and Jerusalem with wrong!
Its rulers give judgment for a bribe,
its priests teach for a price,
its prophets give oracles for money;
yet they lean upon the LORD and say,
"Surely the LORD is with us!
No harm shall come upon us."
Therefore because of you
Zion shall be plowed as a field;
Jerusalem shall become a heap of ruins,
and the mountain of the house a wooded height.

I'm proud of the sermon I heard Sunday in church. Hearing the reading brought tears to my eyes, but I thought the sermon might focus on the Gospel and leave this politically charged prophecy alone.

But the Father made the connections to the war in Iraq and the current administration, and "those who cry 'Peace' when they have something to eat, but declare war against those who put nothing into their mouths."

He did it gently and without ever using the Bush name, but made a point about war and reasons for going to war. This to a largely conservative crowd.

I'm proud of him.

Do you think the President & Co. are aware of Micah's warning? The Prez claims to read his Bible.

It is the living word.

And don't let the door hit you on the backside

Now that Hurricane Wilma has come and gone, pushed rapidly through Central Florida by a cold front, my attention has turned to church politics.

Remember when, after the ordination of Gene Robinson, the ultraconservative-fundamentalist leaders in the church decided they were "Anglican" and not Episcopalian? The focus was on being Anglican — paugh on this "revisionist" Episcopal Church!

Now, the ultracon mouthpieces aren't too happy with Anglican things, like the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Church of England or Robin Eames, either. They just aren't following the program.

What to do, with the threatened break away from the Anglican Church, and Archbishop Peter Akinola writing snippy letters to Eames and all?

Maybe since our Network bishops are forming alliances with Southern Cone (Southern Hemisphere) bishops in Africa, the Caribbean and Asia, they can change their name for at least a third time.

Yes, they can go from "American Anglican Council" to "Anglican Network" to ... "American Conehead Council (ACC)," demonstrating their true allegiance.

Just imagine. They can have special Conehead decoder rings to decipher the Bible's one, true and Conehead interpretation.

For fundraisers, they can sell special Conehead x-ray vision glasses, guaranteed to detect any homosexual tendencies on the part of clergy or prospective clergy, and vestry members and lay leaders.

Clergy and parishioners will have to sign the "Conehead Covenant" instead of the "Windsor Covenant."

It will be a brave, new world.

Waiting for Wilma

Hurricane Wilma is like her sister, Ophelia. She likes to keep everyone guessing. She continues her dance on the Yucatan, a guest who coyly declines to say when she'll leave.

When she does, she'll leave her hurricane calling card: death and misery. My heart goes out to the people there.

Wilma's shy about her plans. We're not sure when she will leave the Yucatan or how fast she will make tracks across the water toward Florida, when she'll hit, where she'll hit, and how hard she'll hit. The waiting is nerve-wracking for hurricane-weary Floridians. Some figure they survived everything last year, and they'll just ride it out, whatever comes.

Not the right attitude.

The storm will likely be much weaker before she hits Florida, but she will still be a menace, especially to areas still trying to recover from last year's storms. The southwest coast is the most vulnerable, but even here, in Central Florida, we're still dealing with too much water and damages left from last year's unprecedented three hurricane hits.

We have to keep watching ... and waitng. And praying.

God, please bless the storm-wracked with evidence of your presence, and tend to the fearful, the dying and the grieving. Give them comfort and peace, and show the survivors the way to safety. Prepare your relief-workers for what they must do, trusting in you and your goodness. In Christ's name, Amen.

The joy of vinyl

Compact discs are handy. They're obviously compact and portable. Most of them don't skip.

I have a confession, though: I miss those spinning discs that were called "LPs," or long-play albums, that have mostly disappeared from record-store shelves.

Maybe the nostalgia for LPs is because it seemed more exciting to buy recorded music in my youth. I would rush home with my purchase, carefully remove the cellophane wrapping, and smell the sweet scent of new vinyl.

The little hiss from the speakers as the needle made contact with the album's outer grooves was the sound of anticipation; then the music began.

Album covers were big enough to display real art. Many albums had double covers to open, and inside were lyrics to read along with the music, and memorize.

When I reallly "grooved" on a song, I could pick up the needle's arm, put the needle back to the beginning of the tune, and listen to it over and over again.

A biography of the performer(s) was usually printed on the back of the album cover, so I learned tidbits about these favorite artists. I never bought fan magazines.

Ah, the days of Simon and Garfunkel, Bob Dylan, Marianne Faithful, and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. Folk-rock. Motown. The Beatles.

Then came the years of infamy, a black mark on the history of music: no, not disco, but eight-track tapes. Oh, horrors. They tangled. They dragged. Suddenly, voices descended three octaves and sounded like utterances of doom.

Nevertheless, the cool kids all had some kind of eight-track players in their cars. Never mind if they had to stop and deal with tape spewing from the players like spaghetti from a pasta maker, or if the machines' batteries died.

I refused to have anything to do with these afflictions on the ears and psyche of humanity.

A little later came cassettes, and for a long time, I was convinced they were just slightly different versions of eight-tracks, and not to be trusted.

Then came compact discs (CDs), just when I had finally installed a cassette player in my car. Sigh. I still drive around with a portable CD player plugged into my car's cigarette lighter, and I enjoy loading up my CD player at home.

Sometimes, though, I go to my old record player, relegated to the back room, and play some of my elderly albums. I still have the Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band and Bob Dylan's Nashville Skyline among a stack of albums that have survived the years.





I think I hear Cat Stevens' Tea for the Tillerman calling me. Catch you later.


Betsy and Jack the Brat follow me to the back room to see what I'm doing. Would you believe my little baby Jack now weighs 11 pounds? He went to the vet today for his annual.

So close your eyes

Hold Demi at Pilgrim's Progress in your prayers -- she lost her father Saturday morning.

She blogged about hearing the song "Stardust" in a dream and realizing it was about her dad's life and death.

It reminded me that I had a song in my head, from the time in June, in Honduras, that I learned of my younger brother's death, all the way back to the States. It was James Taylor singing "Close Your Eyes"

So close your eyes
You can close your eyes
It's all right
I don't know no love songs
And I can't sing the blues anymore
But I can sing this song
And you can sing this song when I'm gone

Blessing the animals

Sunday, I took two of my pets to church for a Blessing of the Animals.

For those who are unfamiliar with Episcopal traditions, the life and ministry of St. Francis of Assisi is observed on Oct. 4. Along with his ministry to the poor, the sick and the downtrodden, St. Francis was known for having an affinity with animals, and the legends say even the wild animals of the forest would come to him peaceably, Thus, the Blessing of the Animals is done near this date, in St. Francis' honor.

I took Betsy and Jack the Brat. I had to leave one of the cats home because I only have one pet carrier now, and Elvis ended up staying home this time -- not that he minded. They won't both fit in the carrier; Elvis can hardly fit in it by himself. I'm going to bless him tonight with my stash of holy water, and he can get a priestly blessing next time.

Betsy, a very social dog, enjoyed the whole event and the chance to visit with other dogs, particularly a Rottweiler who was giving her the eye. She was most appreciative of the blessing she received, and gave the Father a big, slurpy kiss in the face to show her appreciation.

Jack the Brat had a dimmer view of the event, and stayed curled up in the back of his carrier. I flick water on him to chase him off the kitchen counter, and I'm sure he took the holy water sprinkled on him in the same light -- only, he had no place to run.

Oh, well, he needed a special blessing.

Let me digress: Last weekend, I found two tiny black-racer snakes dead on the floor next to the sliding doors. Jack had apparently pulled them through the tiny space above the runner. He spends a lot of time there, watching lizards on the patio through the glass, and scrabbles his paws along the tracks, somehow getting hold of a tail once in a while with his sharp claws. Maybe I need to keep them trimmed very short.

How my little hunter did it, I don't know, but I don't think the snakes got in by themselves. My guess is they got up around the door to get out of the rain that night and got their tails in the space under the door that runs back and forth. They were probably dead by the time he pulled them under the door. I found them with one's head bitten off and one's tail bitten off, and a blotch of blood next to the door. Yuch. Anyway, it's lucky they weren't pygmy rattlers -- I might have a dead cat. So, Jack needed the blessing for protection.

Anyway, people brought dogs and cats of all sizes, shapes, and degree of furriness for blessings, and there were two big birds, as well. After the blessings, people were served animal crackers and pets were served people crackers.

What fun! Then Jack, Betsy and I took a ride to the beachside.

Goodbye to old friends

I was sad to learn of Don Adams' death yesterday. It seems that all the characters and personalities I grew up with have been departing this world.

Don Adams, in his character of Maxwell Smart, brought a to life a sneaky, campy, delightful humor. Would you believe I named a cat "Maxwell" after him? Maxwell the cat had the same pointy features and enjoyment of life that Don Adams seemed to have.

Sorry about that, chief.

Although he had been out of the limelight for a few years, I was still grieved by the death of Johnny Carson. I didn't really have a social life when I was in high school, but Carson brought his wit and his funny, talented friends into my room and it was as if these fabulous people were sharing their evening with me.

I miss Jimmy Stewart, George Burns, and all those wonderful men of my early life who are gone now.

Lord, thank you for Don and all the people who brought joy into our lives and are here no longer. I know they live joyously in you now.

Pet delight

The heck with all the bad news. Here are pictures of my pets.







This is Elvis









This is Jack the Brat, when I first got him.












This is Betsy

Which way will they jump?

Network or Episcopal Church?

This is the scuttlebutt I've been hearing: the clergy are being polled in the Diocese of Central Florida, to see which way they're going to jump. Do they plan to stay with the Episcopal Church, or go with the Network?

Apparently the Network wants to be ready to jump ship at General Convention 2006. Apparently, the bishop wants to know he'll be surrounded by a posse of AAC-types before he goes for a break. Maybe he wants to force fence-sitters into a decision.

The clergy are being reminded they'll lose their pensions if they go. I'm not sure if this just to help the clergy see the ramifications of their decision, or likely, if the Network leaders can get enough Network wannabes worked up about it, to push for some grab of the pension fund.

There's already been a precedent set in the Diocese of Central Florida for letting break-away churches keep the property, by "selling" it to them at very low cost, at very good terms.

For a good while, the Web site for St. Lukes Cathedral in the Diocese of Central Florida has been referring to the cathedral only as a member of the Network, and nowhere does it admit being a part of the Episcopal Church. You can go to www.stlukescathedral.org and take a look.

At least the diocesan Web site still calls the diocese "Episcopal."

How crummy, though.

Two good things
p.s. -- a big, bad thing

Two good things happened yesterday: Hurricane/Tropical Storm Ophelia finally headed east and out to sea, away from Florida, and Michael Brown was removed as director of FEMA's Hurricane Katrina response effort.

Both have qualifiers.

Here in Central Florida, we still have to keep an eye on the fickle Ophelia, to see which direction she'll go when she loops back. The predictions are she might hit the Carolinas, but the weather people have been very unsure in predicting her movements. Maybe she'll fizzle out in the Atlantic -- the best-case scenario.

Michael Brown still heads FEMA, just not the Hurricane Katrina response. I caught him on the news saying he didn't understand why he was pulled off Katrina. I guess he ain't no rocket scientist. There's been so much ill will toward him, I don't see how he could work with any of the people or groups in the Gulf Coast. I'm sure Bush had no option but to remove him.

He should be removed from FEMA, but the prez is just too much into cronyism. Look at "Know-Nothing" Chertoff, head of Homeland Security. With all the vast resources at his command, he said he didn't know about the levee breaking and New Orleans flooding until fully a day later, when he read it in the newspaper.

With this kind of intelligence gathering, no wonder we can't find Osama bin Laden.

POSTSCRIPT:

Oh my God. I just read an e-mail from one of my ultraconservative acquaintances. It appears that the horror in New Orleans wasn't because of lack of action by the Bush administration. No, what was really going on in New Orleans was that the people who didn't leave when told to evacuate were the shiftless types in the projects, along with crimiinals the police just let out of jail, because they couldn't evacuate them. But the criminals all came from the projects, so they're really all the same people, the e-mail explains.


These "thugs," as they're described in the e-mail, are compared to the good-for-nothing towel heads in Iraq who shouted obscenities at the U.S. soldiers who came to save them. These "thugs" or "parasites" spent the time of crisis in New Orleans raping, looting, murdering and thugging.

The situation was caused by 40 years of "welfare state," not by inaction and incompetence on the part of bushie and his henchmen/political appointees. No, the e-mail says, "The welfare state--and the brutish, uncivilized mentality it sustains
and encourages--is the man-made disaster that explains the moral ugliness that
> has swamped New Orleans. And that is the story that no one is reporting."

I think I'm going to be sick. Excuse me for a minute.

This e-mail is being sent all over the place, and I got it many generations from its origin. I know where it came from, though.

We're going to be lied to about the body count, also. They're only reporting 154 bodies found in Louisiana so far. Of course, the bushie government is controlling the morgues and the body counts that come out of the search operations. 154? That's a big fat lie. The body count will be minimized, just like the casualty count was in Viet Nam. And it's going on in Iraq, too, certainly for the civilian count.

This blame the victim -- they deserved it anyway -- tactic is totally beyond the pale. I'm more convinced than ever that a bunch of Nazis and their goons run our government.

Stalling around

Hurricane Ophelia is hanging around, stalled just off the coast of Central Florida, and the experts aren't sure what she's going to do. She was dubbed "hurricane" about 24 hours earlier than expected.

Forecasters now think she might head to the northeast, then loop and come back toward Florida, with winds of up to 100 mph (sigh). But, they warn, even a temporary shift to the west could give us some nasty weather now.

It's Murphy's Law: we, as we should have, sent law enforcement officers, medical teams, firefighters and supplies to the Gulf Coast, leaving us more vulnerable here in Central Florida.

Our local Salvation Army's pantry is bare, and they're out of money to help people with rent and so forth. There's a great need now, and there will be an even greater need if we get even tropical storm force winds here. We're in great danger of flooding if we get much rain at all -- we already have too much water to deal with.

We've still got nothing to complain about, comparatively -- 100 mph winds at the worst pale in comparison to Katrina's destruction.

Here's praying we get nothing of Ophelia but a few more rainstorms. Just go on out to the Atlantic and fizzle, Ophelia.

I hear you knocking...

Tropical Storm Ophelia has parked herself off the coast of Central Florida, and it looks like we're in for a blow and a lot of rain the next two days. Thank heavens she's just a tropical storm - nothing like Katrina - yet, we have to go through the drill of preparing for power outages, flooded streets and wind damage. I went to the store last night and stocked up on pet food, milk, bottled water and camping-out fare. I already have a stash of batteries.

Flooding is the biggest potential threat to my area, where the ground is already saturated. A number of subdivisions around here have been dealing with overflowing retention ponds, street flooding and some house flooding all summer. This is partly due to some of them not being built according to their approved plans, we're finding out. But the flooding is mostly due to three hurricanes last year and some heavy rains this summer.

Just let us off easy, Ophelia. No need to linger and turn into a hurricane, or move on then double back on us.

But thank God you're not Katrina.