Content

" . . .babes in Christ."

Tuesday 31 August 2010 0 comments
It was just a small thing, really. A silly little poem tucked away on page 20 of an otherwise serious, conservative periodical. Just a few lines written down that raised more than a few eyebrows:
It's All In Her Genes

It's all in her genes
She likes to say
When avoirdupois
Won't go away.

Yes, look from behind
To see what she means
No doubt that you'll find
It's all in her JEANS.
- Anonymous Ancient Egyptian
Susan Russell, Senior Associate at All Saints Church, Pasadena, posted this wee ditty on her blog, having been first alerted by Mary Glasspool, Bishop Suffragan of the Diocese of LA. Someone named "John" identified the author as a "female octogenarian" in the comment section of Susan's blog.

Now, one might find this little poem vaguely amusing, considering the source. One might even be impressed by the somewhat clever interplay of "genes" and "jeans". One might be further impressed by the use of the word "avoirdupois" - unless, of course, one is a fan of Scrabble or the NY Times Crossword puzzle in particular or of wordsmithing in general.

One might expect such a poem to appear on the pages of the AARP or in a newsletter which features works by people of that generation.

One does not expect something like this to appear in a publication like The Anglican Digest which declares its mission as
"Our goal is to connect the Church by gathering articles that tell the vital story of our faith.

The material in each issue is for a varied audience and includes ministry ideas for clergy and laity, devotional and historical material, as well as humor and news briefs from around the Anglican Communion."
TAD, whose "pocket-size pages are made up of some things old, some things new, most things borrowed, everything true," has been around since 1958. It is published bimonthly by SPEAK, the Society for Promoting and Encouraging the Arts and Knowledge (of the Church) at Eureka Springs, Arkansas.

The Editor is the Rev'd Dr. Kendall Harmon, Canon Theologian of the Diocese of South Carolina and well known across the broad spectrum of the church as an outspoken "orthodox" critic of The Episcopal Church and her "progressive" leadership. We have Dr. Harmon to thank for coining the now ubiquitous if not odious and annoying and essentially inaccurate terms "reasserter" ("conservative" or "orthodox") and "revisionist" ("liberal" or "progressive").

Its web page states that the "market" of TAD is "the entire Church, clergy and lay, those highly theologically educated and 'babes in Christ'."

So, as a somewhat highly theologically educated babe. . . in Christ, of course, I took laptop in hand and wrote to Dr. Harmon.

After quoting the offensive poem, I wrote
I don't know what I find more objectionable and offensive - the obvious sexism of the "poem" or the fact that the author is hiding behind a pseudonym.

We have had our theological and political differences in the past, Kendall, but I've always experienced you as a gentleman.

I rely on that personal experience as I anticipate a full apology.

As National Convener of The Episcopal Women's Caucus, I insist on one.
I have not received an apology. I'm not holding my breath.

"Wait, what's the big deal?" someone is asking. "It's a little poem - perhaps in bad taste - but it's not like it's the end of the world."

Well, yes. Yes, in fact, it is. Some of us are trying to end of the world of the prominent social paradigm of patriarchy which is resisting its long-overdue but eventual death with every fiber of its still considerable muscle.

There's a word for this. It's called "micro-oppression."

Micro-oppression is subtle, not as obvious and therefore harder to point out or confront than oppression. Sexist micro-oppression occurs frequently and has a tendency to wear a person down over time. All micro-oppression tends to be “invisible” and we often experience the cumulative effect of it as tension between ourselves.

Micro-oppression is death by a thousand paper cuts.

This poem has a particular sting because the mis-education of a woman of a particular generation was published by an otherwise reputable Christian journal.

In December, 1987, in an essay entitled "Spirituality: An African View", Dr. Clarence Glover wrote:
"The greatest weapon that the oppressor has in his hand is the mind of the oppressed."
Media often reduces women to objects of sexual desire and not much else. Women are still seen as the bearer of children and the home maker. Little girls are socialized at a young age to look pretty for men so they can fulfill the life long dream of finding that husband, having that wedding and making those babies.

Now, being a wife and a mother is a noble calling, to be sure, but one person's nobility can be another person's shackles.

When you have been brought up with shame and guilt because you are "the weaker sex," - when you are barraged daily by subtle and not-so-subtle messages and images about the shape and form of a "perfect" woman's body - even "innocent little poems" like this make it easy to give in to the despair and the daunting odds of reversing your negative civil rights and social situation.

Thomas Jefferson said, "The price of liberty is eternal vigilance".

It's the small, unexpected appearances of sexism which require vigilance - and persistence.

Yes, it's tedious, thankless work. Yes, it is work that is often misunderstood and criticized or minimized and dismissed as insignificant. It is especially painful when other women - knowingly or unknowingly - are the vehicles of micro-oppression.

The price of liberty is worth it. To quote that national hair care product for women: "Because you're worth it." And, so are our children - male and female - who are also being shaped and formed by a culture which is still deeply imbued with the sometimes indelible stains of oppression and micro-oppression.

We may be "babes in Christ" but our baptismal vows charge us to "grow into the full stature of Christ," and to "respect the dignity of every human being."

That journey can lead us, in the words of Martin Smith, to the "crucifyingly obscure boundaries of our faith."

So, put on your 'jeans' and allow the 'genes' of your faith to carry you forward into that journey - no matter the shape 'avoirdupois' lends to that which is behind you.
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Some final Emmy thoughts

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A follow-up to yesterday's review of the Emmys.

The ratings were about the same as last year. So congratulations to the Chabad telethon.

In response to my comment about winner Jim Parsons I received a nice note from David Hyde Pierce reminding me that HE is the young David Hyde Pierce.

MAD MEN’S Matt Weiner also emailed to say that his co-writer Erin Levy was being hugged by her father out of camera view and that’s why she lagged so far behind him bounding up to the stage. Thanks Matt. There should be walk-off music for winners who hug too long in the aisles.

The three-hour show finished on time although I’m sure the producers were worried that the minute they got off the air they’d realize, “Shit! We forgot to give out Best Actor”.

One reason the Emmys didn’t get stellar ratings is that a lot of people (most everyone I talked to) found themselves saying, “Who’s that?” fifty times during the broadcast. That’s the good and bad news of all the new faces now on the TV scene.

Jimmy Fallon generally got very positive reviews. Of course, after the year the five reality show emcees hosted, Manny Ramirez could do a better job.

How many A-list parties will Temple Grandin be invited to NEXT year? She’s this year’s Roberto Benigni.

What does the Academy have against serial killers?

Please Academy: no more lame bits introducing the accountants, don’t strive for class and elegance and then feature Kim Kardashian, don’t have washed-up pop stars sing their own dreary compositions for the “In Memoriam” feature. Think of the dear departed themselves. Do you think Soupy Sales would have okayed that Jewel song for his funeral?

I couldn’t tell. There’s a rumor going around that for the “In Memoriam” tribute they showed a shot of Fred Savage and identified him as Corey Haim.

BREAKING BAD won’t have their new season on the air soon enough to be eligible for next year’s Emmys. So Hugh Laurie will lose to Jon Hamm instead of Bryan Cranston next year.

The most beautiful girl of the night was never shown on camera. Brook Burke of (judging by the just-announced contestants) DANCING WITH THE FREAK SHOW.

How soon until the major networks dump the Emmys and they’ll start rotating between cable networks? So one year they’re on LOGO, then BOOMERANG, then the Home Shopping Channel.

Comedy writing staffs for every show spent at least two hours this morning ripping the shit out of every single person who won. An hour just on Julia Ormond alone. But all the winners were ingrates, lucky, talentless, undeserving, fat. All except Betty White. She'll be spared.

Thanks for all the nice comments on my Emmy review. It was much harder to write this year because the show wasn’t that bad. I think Fox has it next year so that shouldn’t be a problem. Tim McCarver will make the perfect host.
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My 2010 Emmys Review

Monday 30 August 2010 0 comments
Shorter than the Oscars and gayer than the Tonys – it’s the 62nd annual Emmy Awards! This year starring Betty White and Temple Grandin.

For the first time ever the Emmys were shown live in Los Angeles. NBC recognized they were up against very stiff competition this year -- the Chabad Telethon.

What an inconvenience that three-hour tape delay used to be. Every year my wife would have to excuse herself in the middle of the show, call home, and say, “Daddy lost. Go to bed.”

Jimmy Fallon was this year’s host. He was amusing at times. But my choice would have been Joel McHale. Or Rabbi Boruch Schlomo Cunin who killed at the Chabad telethon!

The opening production number was great fun. And they established right away, if you need a laugh – go to Betty White. She was in skits, promos, film clips. I was surprised she didn’t appear in a scene from THE PACIFIC blasting the shit out of the Japs. But Betty coaching Jon Hamm on dance moves was hilarious, and in general the number got the show off to a spirited start.

NBC is now so afraid of defecting viewers that during winners’ speeches they alert you to upcoming star appearances. How’d you like to be on stage, maybe celebrating the single greatest moment of your life and on the screen they flash: “In Memoriam in 4 1/2 minutes”?

Lots of surprises this year: Aaron Paul won for BREAKING BAD. He starred in one of our failed pilots a couple of years ago and I just knew if he ever got attached to decent material his career would take off!

A big shocker was Archie Panjabi from THE GOOD WIFE. She's the researcher. So she won an Emmy for, “I was able to retrieve his phone records for the last three years”?

More surprises: Kyra Sedgwick, TOP CHEF beating perennial winner THE AMAZING RACE (they shouldn’t have cut corners by having the teams race through “It’s a Small World” this season), the scarcity of Conan jokes (the over/under was fifty), and the discovery that Julia Osmond is certifiably insane.

Otherwise, was anybody shocked that Kim Kardashian can’t sing or that THE PACIFIC won for Best Mini-Series? It was the only nominee and she has no talent at all.

What was with that set? Every time they went to a tribute to Comedy or Drama or whatever it was like the Caesar’s Palace Sports Book exploded.

I was thrilled that MODERN FAMILY copped Best Comedy, thus keeping the tradition of comedic excellence alive for ABC. First TAXI in 1978, then THE WONDER YEARS in 1988 and now this.

MAD MEN again deserved Best Drama. It’s still the best show on television. Although a note to Matthew Weiner – when you win for writing, it’s usually good form to wait for your co-writer to join you and not trample her on your way to the stage.

This was a bittersweet night for Matt. Yes, he won two Emmys but Temple Grandin got more attention.

Jane Lynch was even more of a lock than THE PACIFIC. And she looked fabulous. She could even get girl parts.

But what was with Lauren Graham? Did she leave a napkin in her dress? It looked like she was wearing a black gown and a white lobster bib.

Eric Stonestreet’s acceptance speech was heartfelt and lovely. And it was his first time. Al Pacino’s won a million awards and his speech was like your uncle Lou’s just before the paramedics came.

It was clearly MODERN FAMILY’S night. Congratulations to Steven Levitan and Christopher Lloyd for best script. Great speech by Steve but where was Chris? Was there a Clippers game last night?

How could they do a tribute to the year in Drama and not include DEFYING GRAVITY? Or a Comedy tribute and omit HANK?

Edie Falco may be the only actress to win a Best Comedy and a Best Drama Emmy. Gotta applaud her honesty. “I’m not funny!” she exclaimed. Neither was that running Twitter bit.

January Jones wore a giant blue drink umbrella. Why have her present the award for Best Mini-Series when she can’t even pronounce Mini-Series?

You realize of course that you watch a lot more television than the people who made these decisions? If it weren't for screener DVD's, many Academy members would still be voting for HILL STREET BLUES.

It’s about time that Jim Parsons won for BIG BANG THEORY. He’s the young David Hyde-Pierce.

Did you notice that not one winner all night, any category, thanked a network or studio for notes?

Sofia Vergara came dressed as an Emmy.

Equally as stunning was Clair Danes – and she did it without cleavage.

Meanwhile, Lea Michele was quite fetching in her tailored Glad bag.

Hugh Laurie will never win. And Bryan Cranston will never lose.

George Clooney received the Bob Hope Award for Major Movie Star who agreed to appear on the Emmys.

Best line of the night: Writer Adam Mazer, winner for YOU DON’T KNOW JACK: "Jack Kevorkian, I'm so grateful you're my friend. But I'm even more grateful you're not my physician."

Jack Kevorkian was in attendance although at first I thought it was David Caruso.

Anna Pacquin came as King Tut.

What was that hideous song Jewel sang? I hate to say it but it really brought down the “In Memoriam” section.

DEXTER’S John Lithgow, winner of best guest actor in a drama series (even though he was in 13 of 13 episodes) thanked HBO, which is gracious except DEXTER is on Showtime.

Did anybody else notice that host network NBC didn’t win a single Emmy during the broadcast? Again, how does Jeff Zucker keep his job???

Most deserved Emmy: Jeff Greenberg for casting MODERN FAMILY.

The musical salute to 24/LAW & ORDER/LOST was good but I dunno, over at the Chabad telethon Avraham Fried was kicking ass.

Why did they have to ruin director Mick Jackson’s big night by mentioning he also directed VOLCANO?

As Emmy shows go I thought this was a pretty good one. It was nice balance of new blood and Betty White. Thanks to my daughter Annie for helping with the snark. Happy birthday, kiddo.

Oh…

I can’t let an Emmy review go by without a nod to KTLA’s inane Red Carpet arrival show hosted by the “footstool of the footlights”, Sam Rubin and his bimbo de jour, this year – Jessica Holmes, whose qualifications for this assignment was helicopter traffic reporter.

When Paula Abdul told Sam that Simon Cowell will always be in her heart, he’s like a fungus, Sam sought clarification: “So (he’s) like toe jam?” What does it say when Sam Rubin is in a conversation with Paula Abdul and she comes off the smart one?

Not that Jessica is a Mensa candidate. To Jesse Brandt of BREAKING BAD she asked: “So does everybody in Hollywood know each other?” I guess when you cover the industry from 20,000 feet you might think that.

In discussing DEXTER with two of its cast members, she said, “It’s so funny that he’s a serial killer.”

And just when you thought they couldn’t be any more self-congratulatory they add this new little wrinkle: a running crawl at the bottom of the screen with text messages from the audience repeatedly telling Jessica and Sam how beautiful they look. I sent a text: “Sam & Jessica are insipid” and KTLA didn’t air it. But with just a $30 donation, the Chabad telethon did.
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The XX, The Naked & Famous, The Ting Tings

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The XX - STARS (LAZRtag Remix) 320 kbps
Electronic, Pop, Dance, Indie

I can give it all on the first date
I don't have to exist outside this place
And dear, know that I can change

London, England. We all love the XX. And I don't know why we should change this wonderful songs or interpret it in a new way. But the remix by LAZRtag shows us that it's possible. It's beautiful as well as the original. This seven minute remix takes you away. Also, check out some other remixes on their page here, if you like.


Electronic, Dance, Pop
Here we go again! Above I didn't find the words, but know I found it. Fascinating! The XX is fascinating us and obviously other artist, too. Another one is Tiga. The Canadian who did create a new version of  Corey Hart's "Sunglasses at night" in 2001. And now, enjoy!



Indie, Pop
New Zealand. This country is something special. And it would be everybodies dream to visit it. But, what the hell have the Naked & Famous to do with New Zealand? Ah, ok. They come from it. Well, to bring the senseless writting to an end, I concentrate on the track. When I listened to it the first time, I was thinking that it sounds like MGMT's "Kids", Passion Pit's "Sleepyhead" or Empire Of The Sun's "Walking on a dream". However, I like the song. And I hope you might like it, too. So again, enjoy!


Indie, Pop, Electronic


Manchester, England. I had deliberated a long time about whether I give you this link or not. Cause, I'm not sure about whether I like it or not. Anywhere is also the original in the network. But I couldn't find it anymore. The reason why I show you this track is simply. I want to let you know that the Ting Tings working on a new album. And while I'm talking about I couldn't find the original, I find it now. Anyway, I acknowledge I like the song.  And know I'm looking forward to the new album of Katie White & Jules De Martino. By the way, Calvin Harris has also a finger in the pie.

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One of my favorite Emmy moments

Sunday 29 August 2010 0 comments
Big surprise it's Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart. I hope I have something this funny to review tonight.

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The Handfasting Ceremony

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Note:  I am - we are - deliriously, deliciously, dramatically happy. And, thoroughly exhausted. I think we got about four hours sleep last night. I am posting the Handfasting Ceremony we used as I know many of you have expressed an interest in how it all was done. I'll write more on it later and post more pictures - hopefully those done by the professional - later. For now, thank you all for your wonderful kind words of love and support. Mia and Bob make a wonderful couple. We are thrilled that our family is growing in such unexpectedly blessed and wonder-full ways.

A few words about the history of Handfasting


Handfasting is an ancient custom - before the Council of Trent required the presence of a priest - especially common in Ireland and Scotland but also in Poland and Czechoslovakia with roots in the Nordic Cultures, in which a man and woman came together at the start of their marriage relationship. Their hands, or more accurately, their wrists, were literally tied together. This practice gave way to the expression "tying the knot" which has come to mean getting married.

During this particular ceremony, six cords are tied around the couple's wrists, each representing a vow made between them. These particular cords were fashioned by the couple, with "family artifacts" of jewelry from various family members woven in among the ribbon.

Handfasting tradition holds that these cords remain tied together for a year and a day, at which point, the couple gathers the witnesses to their vows and has a celebration of their first year of married life.

The rings exchanged are the lasting and constant reminder of those vows made on this day.

The Handfasting Ceremony

To the assembled:   Greetings and welcome to you all! We are gathered here today to witness and to celebrate one of life's greatest moments, to give recognition to the worth and beauty of love, and to add our best wishes and blessings to the union of Maria Conroy Kaeton and Robert Gordon Leong. We have come here this day to share in their joy as they come now to be united in the state of holy matrimony.

To Bob and Mia:  Know now that since your lives have crossed, you have formed ties between each other. The promises you make today and the ties that are bound here will cross the years and will greatly strengthen your union. With full awareness, know that you declare your intent to be handfasted before your friends and family.

Do you still seek to enter this ceremony?

Mia and Bob: Yes, we seek to enter.

Does anyone here have any objections to this couple being handfasted in marriage? If so, speak now or forever hold it to your heart (wait for the space of three heartbeats).

I bid you look into each others eyes. Bob and Mia, these cords are a symbol of the lives you have chosen to lead together. Up until this moment, you have been separate in thought, word and action. As your hands are bound together by these cords, so too, shall your lives be bound as one.

The First Cord

Mia, will you honor him?
I will.
Bob, will you honor her?
I will.
[To Both] Will you seek never to give cause to break that honor?
Yes.
And so the binding is made. Join your hands. (First chord is draped across the bride and groom's hands.)

The Second Cord

Bob, might you ever cause her anger?
I might...
Is that your intent?
No.
Mia, might you ever cause him anger?
I might...
Is that your intent?
No.
[To Both] Will you together take the heat of anger and use it to temper the strength of this union?
Yes.
And so the binding is made. (Drape second chord across the couple's hands.)

The Third Cord

Mia, might you ever burden him?
I might...
Is that your intent?
No.
Bob, might you ever burden her?
I might...
Is that your intent?
No.
[To Both] Will you share the burdens of each so that your spirits may grow in this union?
Yes.
And so the binding is made. (Third chord is draped across the couple's hands.)

The Fourth Cord

Mia, will you share his dreams?
I will .
Bob, will you share her dreams?
I will .
[To Both] Will you dream together to create new realities and hopes?
Yes.
And so the binding is made. (Drape fourth chord across the couple's hands.)

The Fifth Cord

Bob, might you ever cause her pain?
I might...
Is that your intent?
No.
Mia, might you ever cause him pain?
I might...
Is that your intent?
No.
[To Both] Will you share each other's pain and seek to ease it?
Yes.
And so the binding is made. (Drape fifth chord across the couple's hands.)

The Sixth Cord

Bob, will you share her laughter?
I will .
Mia, will you share his laughter?
I will .
[To Both] Will both of you look for the brightness in life and the positive in each other?
Yes.
And so the binding is made. (Drape sixth chord across the couple's hands.)

(The cords are tied together and the couple’s hands are bound in the priest’s stole.)

Just as your hands are now bound together, so too, are your lives. May you be forever one, sharing in all things, in love and loyalty for all time to come.

As it is, you cannot always be physically joined.

(The Handfasting Cords are removed, without untying them, and replaced on the altar.)

And so, we use the wedding ring to symbolize that connection. It is a constant reminder of the sacred bond shared between a husband and a wife.

Who holds the rings?

(The rings are given to the Bride and Groom)

Bob and Mia, you hold here in your hands the wedding rings that you will exchange with one another. When you give a ring to someone in marriage, you are giving them a symbol of your eternal love, a love that, like the circle formed by each of these rings, has no beginning and no end.

As you understand this, and wish to affirm the love that the giving and receiving of these rings represents, please, exchange your rings with one another, and state for each, “With this ring, I thee wed”.

Beginning with you, Bob

(Bob places the ring on Mia’s finger and states,)
“With this ring, I thee wed.”

And now you, Mia

(Mia places the ring on Bob’s finger and states,)
“With this ring, I thee wed.”

Bob and Mia, now that you have joined yourselves in matrimony, may you strive always to meet this commitment with the same spirit you now are now exhibiting. Inasmuch as you have consented together to enter into the holy bonds of marriage; and having pledged, and sealed your vows by the giving and receiving of rings, it gives me great pleasure to pronounce that you are now husband and wife.

Congratulations! You may share the first kiss of your marriage!

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Emmy acceptance speech tips

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As a public service for those lucky nominees, here are some Emmy acceptance speech tips. My review of tonight's Emmycast will appear tomorrow. Good luck to all the people I like and bad luck to the ones I hate.

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Chilly Gonzales - I am Europe (Djedjotronic Remix)

Saturday 28 August 2010 0 comments
I'm a movie with no plot
written in the backseat
of piss powered taxi

Paris, France. Gonzales is back with his 6th album "Ivory Tower". The Canadian who had lifed for a while in Berlin, is now lingering in Paris. You can hear  the whole album Ivory Tower on his MySpace-Page. For you I have here a excellent remix of this great song by Djedjotronic. I could dance to it all nite long. By the way, the jazz-musician had also created a movie in which he is playing a chess-player or something. Could be interesting. Thus, keep your eyes open.


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The Best of the "Worst of" the Emmys

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Every year I review the Emmy Awards. To get you ready, and for any new readers of this blog, here are selected samples of my Emmy reviews from 2006-2009. You'll find this year's edition on Monday morning.

The people in the first ten rows you don’t recognize are called “seat fillers”. When the seat fillers have to go to the bathroom they’re replaced by the “nominated writers”.

Great questions on E!’s red carpet show. Isiah Washington was asked his porn name. Ryan Seacrest asked Steven Colbert if Jon Stewart was a prick? Class-eeee. He then asked Hugh Laurie: “Do you find that you’re less clever with the American accent?” Bring back Sam Rubin and Mindy Barbano! At least they gave out Altoids.

First Emmy article in the LA TIMES Sunday CALENDAR section: Page six. Page one story: “Gidget gone global”.

Sandra Oh was wearing Conan the Barbarian’s jewelry.

Had to replay several times Barry Manilow’s final comment to Mr. Clark. He said, “all right, Dick” not “I love Dick” as I first suspected (and hoped).

Cheryl Hines looked like she backed into a chandelier and took some of it with her.

Cloris Leachman won again. I guess SPLANGLISH wasn’t a career-ender for everyone.

This isn’t the first time Alan Alda beat out a more deserving nominee. But I’ve gotten over it.

Best line of the night: Steve Colbert, “I lost to Barry Manilow?!”

Trust me, if O.J. knew how easy it was to steal an Emmy he and his gunmen would be on stage thanking their parole officers.

You could tell Robert Duvall won for a cowboy movie. Even while standing he looked like he was riding a horse.

Nominating Minnie Driver and not Eddie Izzard for THE RICHES is like nominating Pam Dawber and not Robin Williams for MORK & MINDY.

Can ANYONE remember last year's Movie of Week winner? And that includes the winners themselves?

In sixty years there’s never been worse co-hosts than Heidi Klum, Jeff Probst, Howie Mandel, Ryan Seacrest, and Tom Bergeron. (Snow White and the four dwarfs) Suffering through that excruciating opening where they vamped about nothing was like reliving my Uncle Lou’s 75th birthday party at Sr. George’s Smorgasbord.

And letting Heidi Klum do comedy is like giving a squirrel a grenade.

The evening started on a high note for me since KTLA Channel 5 once again rolled out their red carpet show. Hosted of course by celebrity footstool Sam Rubin and a random bimbo. This year’s tomato was Victoria Recano, who I learned is their evening news anchor. These two lovable chuckleheads are always good for a few idiotic questions and comments. Also present was Tom O’Neill (a so-called Emmys expert). Sam asked him for a preview of the show and he said, “The highlight will be the In Memoriam feature”.

Very elegant comedy montage – pratfalls, sex jokes, and Tina Fey on the toilet. Doesn’t it seem like FRASIER’S been off the air for a hundred years?

The Reality Show montage: five minutes of angry people being bleeped. This is the “excellence in television” we’re celebrating tonight.

How is Jimmy Smits considered a “Guest” actor on DEXTER? He was in 12 of the 13 episodes.

After Ken Howard thanked someone for giving him a kidney, isn’t it a little hard for the next winner to go up and thank Lorne Michaels?

You’re going to think I’m making this up but I’m not. While the winners of the best song were giving their acceptance speech a promo crawl appeared that read, “In Memoriam in 11 minutes”.

Will all the “improvements” and Neil Patrick Harris be enough to turn the tide? It’s hard to say. They certainly made some strides. But the WEATHER CHANNEL had a special on hail storms in Kansas. I’m not optimistic.
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Oh, Happy Day!

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Could these two people look any happier?

I think not.

Well, we had the rehearsal and the dinner last night.

Everyone and everything looks absolutely lovely.

The Very Big Tent is in the yard - all set up for the reception - complete with dance floor.

The deck - where the ceremony will take place - is beautifully festooned with flowers. Bob and Mia and Bob's parents, family and friends have done an amazing job getting the house and yard ready. I'm so grateful.

The "hand fasting cords" were handmade by the bride and groom into which they wove various "trinkets" from some old jewelry given to them by various family members.

We practiced tying them on their wrists. Celtic tradition says that they come off all bound together and then stay bound for a year and a day, at which point, the couple gathers kith and kin and renews the vows and promises they made, one by one.

I think that's perfectly lovely, don't you? And, inherently wise.

After the rehearsal, we all went out to dinner.
This is our granddaughter, the incomparable "Ms. Mackie J" who is flower girl, and our daughter, "The Fabulous UES Girl, Ms. Julie", who is a bridesmaid.

We traveled together to the restaurant from the rehearsal with Ms. Lucy True Bug's top down, singing along with Black Eyed Peas "Tonight's Gonna Be A Good Night" at the top of our voices.

Dinner was several courses in true Northern NJ Italian style - amazing hot Italian bread, mozzarella, tomato and fresh pimento salad, fried calamari. And then, we had dinner. I had the veal piccata, which was incredible.

In between courses, we played "Hangman" and "Tick Tack Toe". And laughed and giggled and tried to contain our excitement, but only barely.

I'm about to run out to do various errands. Gotta get Ms. Lucy True Bug washed and sparkling clean. Hang out with Ms. Mackie J. Get my ensemble for tonight assembled. Hang out with Ms. Mackie J. Get my hair done while Ms. Mackie J gets hers done. Wait excitedly while the rest of the grandchildren arrive later this afternoon.

Oh - did I mention that there's a wedding today?

Why yes. Yes, in fact, there is.

Mia and Bob are "tying the knot". A more beautiful, loving couple you'd be hard pressed to find.

Thanks for your prayers and expressions of love and good wishes. They will continue to hold us all up as we make our way into this beautiful day which the Lord of Life has fashioned to be blessed by Love.

I'll post pictures tomorrow.

Today, I'm just savoring the sublime happiness of this Most Happy Day.
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Family Artifacts

Friday 27 August 2010 0 comments
Part of the difficulty - and the joy - of the last few weeks has been the slow pace of packing for this move.

There's a reason for that.

I call them "family artifacts".

I keep stumbling onto them as I clean and sort and clear and pack - or, pitch.

This is one of them.

Well, not this exact one, but it's the closest image I could find to the original.

Yes, it's an African American Baby Doll. Our youngest daughter, Mia, had one. It was her very first doll.

I clearly remember the day she asked for it.

She was almost three years old. Christmas was coming. We were out shopping, she strapped securely in the shopping cart, and happened to wander by the toy section of the department store. Suddenly, she gasped.

"There she is!" she said.

"What, darling?" I asked.

"Right there! Go! Go! Go, Mama!" she squealed and wiggled in excitement, pointing her finger to the rows and rows of baby dolls on the shelf.

"This one! This one! This one!" she pointed as we got closer. It was hard to tell among the rows of "newborn infants" - looking still and quiet, so unlike a real newborn - in their plastic and cardboard boxes, but promising to "burp" or "giggle" or "wet" or "drink from a bottle or a cup". Just like a "real live baby."

Her choice surprised me on two accounts. First, because she clearly wanted the African American Baby Doll. And second, because this baby doll promised to do absolutely nothing. No bells. No whistles. Just a cute, cuddly baby doll.

Mia spoke in such hushed, reverent tones, it was almost like a prayer. "Could you please ask Santa to bring me that Baby Doll for Christmas, Mama? Please?"

I looked at our youngest child in utter amazement as I realized that this was, in fact, a prayer. "Well, I'll see what we can do," I said. I had learned long ago to never make a promise that I knew I couldn't keep. Anything could happen in the six weeks before Christmas. That particular model could be sold out.

Of course, I resolved right then and there to go back to the store the very next day to buy it for her.

You should have seen her face when she opened the package on Christmas morning! She stood still in utter amazement. Her mouth stayed open long after she gasped in surprise. She actually got pale.

Slowly, slowly, she opened the box as if savoring the magic of the moment. It seemed obscene that her Baby Doll was tied down to a cardboard cradle with those little plastic ties. Arms. Legs. Neck. Waist. As if this doll might run away before she could be purchased and brought to her new home.

I carefully undid each tie as Mia did a "happy-happy-joy-joy" dance in place. As soon as the Baby Doll was free, Mia took her into her arms and hugged and rocked her with such love and gentleness I thought my heart would break.

"What are you going to name her?" Ms. Conroy asked.

Mia picked up her head, pulled back her shoulders, and said, as if she were announcing the Queen, "Baby Kaeton."

Not "Suzy". Not "Anabelle." Not "Carrie". Not "Betsy".

"Baby Kaeton".

And, so it was.

And, rightly so.

Baby Kaeton was soon introduced to "Bun-Bun" - a small blanket in the shape of a bunny that had been Mia's "blankie" since she was an infant. All along the border of the small blanket was a silk ribbon which Mia used to take between her thumb and index finger and rub repetitiously, the way some kids suck their thumb or twirl their hair.

She used to call it "softing". She'd say to her siblings, "Please be quiet. I'm 'softing'." Or, she'd announce in the middle of the afternoon, "I need to do 'a soft'"

Bun-Bun and Baby Kaeton slept with her every night and kept vigil on her bed every day of her life until she was 10 years old. When she had sleep overs at her friends homes, Bun-Bun and Baby Kaeton had to be packed in her overnight case. I suspect Mia waited for everyone to go to sleep before she got up and sneaked them out of her bag and into bed with her.

Then, one day, without any warning or drama, it stopped. Baby Kaeton and Bun-Bun were moved from their residence on bed and onto the chair in her room. A few years later, when Mia went off to college at age 16, they got packed away in a box where they've stayed all these many, many years later.

Mia never made an announcement about it. Never talked about it. We all knew. It was time. Not necessarily to "put away childish things" - but to begin to move on. Grow up. Become more fully the person God created her to be.

And, so it was.

And, rightly so.

Shortly after the sun sets on August 28th, and as the wanning gibbous moon begins to rise in the sky, Mia Conroy Kaeton will be married. She is taking the last name of her new husband.

She has made her own wedding gown - even covering the buttons with material from her 8th Grade Graduation Dress - and festooned with lace and pearls from her future mother-in-law's wedding gown. She will be wearing my pearl necklace and earrings.

She and her beloved have made the cords they will use in the Handfasting Ceremony they have created.

And as I see her coming toward her husband to be, I will think to myself, "There she is! Right there! Baby Kaeton!"

So it once was.

In my heart, so it will always be.

And, rightly so.
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Once you get Klinger out of his dress, then what???

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What happened to the summer? That’s the first Friday question. Here are others. Thanks for asking yours.

benson wonders:

Many series have clip show episodes with some new material to tie together all the reminiscences. Do you keep an audience from a regular taping, or if there is something in need of a audience reaction, do you just sweeten with taped reactions?

I never had a show of my own on long enough to have a clip show. Did one on MASH, which took more time pouring through footage than if we had written a six new episodes.

Note to showrunners: CLIP SHOWS ARE A PAIN IN THE ASS. At first you’ll think it’s a freebie, but it’s NOT. It’s a time suck like you wouldn’t believe.

If a show does not heed my advice they usually will shoot the wrap-arounds after a show if filmed and just before the audience is released. How many people stick around? That depends on how long the filming was? If they kept for five hours then there will be a stampede when the director yells “cut!” If they're kept for three they’ll probably hang in there. It helps to provide pizza.

On TAXI they did an interesting thing: to save money because each week of production was expensive, they put together a two-part episode where each character went off to find a new job. And every week they filmed one of these scenes after the regular show. Each actor only had one week where they really had extra duty. They also filmed the wrap-arounds after completing an episode.

This saved Paramount two weeks of production costs. And by the way, they were two of the best episodes that season.

Alan Sepinwall, TV critic extraordinaire (who you should read on his new site) asks this MASH question:

In hindsight, do you think it was a mistake that when Radar left "M*A*S*H," his replacement was the pre-existing Klinger? Or did Klinger's role and persona change enough with the promotion that it felt like the show had added a new character?

I wasn’t on the show at the time. The last episodes my partner and I wrote were “Goodbye Radar” but that never stops me from answering questions as if I were there.

I believe the decision to make Klinger the company clerk was to kill two birds -- cover that job assignment and give Klinger something else to do. The producers (rightly so) determined that we had gone as far as we could with the dresses and Section 8 schemes. Having used every gown in the vast 20th wardrobe department that covered over 10,000 pictures probably was a clue.

I think the trouble they encountered though was that without that schtick it was hard to make Klinger really funny.

From Kath:

Ever since advertisers discovered that they could get specific audience info rather than as a block for everyone, networks have targeted their decisions to the 18 - 49 demo. It doesn't matter how many people overall watch a show as long as the 18-49 or better yet 18-35 demo loves it.

Do you think this has affected the quality of programming?

Good God, YES!!

It seems to me that comedy shows especially were funnier before the Friends model began to control everything. Not to mention a number of shows that I enjoyed that were pulled because even though the total viewership numbers were decent, they didn't do well in the 18-49 demo.

I don’t know if they were funnier but comedies used to be more sophisticated. They were written by adults for adults.

Oh no!! This is going to make me sound like one of those "you kids get off my lawn" old guys. But...

What I don’t understand is this: why do networks feel the only way to attract younger viewers is to do shows featuring teenagers and twentysomethings exclusively? I think that's insulting to the viewers you’re trying to reach. In today’s world the following shows would never get sold: MASH, FRASIER, THE DICK VAN DYKE SHOW, MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW, THE ODD COUPLE, THE BOB NEWHART SHOW, CHEERS, WINGS, TAXI, BARNEY MILLER, and ALL IN THE FAMILY. None of these shows had zany teenagers or were about high school and yet all these shows had huge 18-34 numbers.

I wish the networks would give young viewers more credit.

And finally, from Dana Gabbard:

Ken, how do you and your partner come up with titles for the scripts you co-write? Any rule you tend to follow? Does it make a difference whether it is for a show that displays titles on air as to how much effort is invested in coming up with a title?

Even if a show doesn’t display the title on the air it's usually listed it in your channel menu. So be careful not to give away any plot secrets.

Sometimes to soothe an actor’s ego we’ll put the name of the character somewhere in the title.

Otherwise we generally just do variations of movie titles or puns. “Death Takes a Holiday on Ice” was the CHEERS title in the episode where we killed Eddie LeBec with a rogue Zamboni machine. When Norm staged an office toga party we titled the show, “Friends, Romans, Accountants”. Nothing too elaborate. It's not like you're being asked to come up with episode titles for Rocky & Bullwinkle.

I love how on FRIENDS they just titled every episode “The one that…” How many brain cells were saved as a result of that time saver?

On OPEN ALL NIGHT we wrote an episode we called “Missing One Geek”. It got filmed with that title and I dunno, someone objected so it got changed to “Terry Runs Away”. When we were nominated for a WGA Award for it the Guild didn’t know what the official title was. Fortunately, all confused was erased when we lost. What a break!

What's your question???
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Reasons of the Heart

Thursday 26 August 2010 0 comments
I don't know about you, but am astounded that the controversy continues to burn white-hot surrounding the proposed building of Park51 - the Islamic Community Center in New York City (formerly known as Cordoba House).

The arguments seems to come down to "religious freedom" - the foundational, constitutional right, in this country, to practice your religious beliefs - vs. "insensitivity" - the complaint that, since almost 3,000 people at the Twin Towers at the World Trade Center were killed by Muslims in the name of their religious beliefs, Park51 is a painful, "insensitive" insult to the survivors of those who perished. (Some of whom, of course, were, themselves, Muslim.)

I'm not going to rehash the arguments about this. Most of the readers of this blog know how I feel. I know how most of you feel. We'll only just pat each other on the back and move on.

Those who disagree will write me anonymous comments, making outrageous claims about my "insensitivity" or "hypocrisy" or "intolerance" which I won't publish because they are (1) ad hominem attacks and (2) patently banal and vapid. 

I am a great fan but not a great student of history. Although I always find it fascinating and helpful, I have trouble storing all that information in my progressively addled brain.

So, when I saw the following Brief History of American Religious Intolerance in the August 30 edition of TIME magazine, it sparked some thinking for me.

It looks like this:
1654 Peter Stuyvesant, director general of New Netherland, tries to have Jewish Refugees expelled, claiming they would "infect" the colony.

1732 Founders of the Georgia colony, which is seen as a religious haven, draw up a charter that explicitly bans Catholicism.

1844 Mormon founder Joseph Smith is murdered in an Illinois prison by a lynch mob. Soon after, many of his followers migrate to Utah.

1854-56 Nativists form the Know-Nothing Party, which calls for strict limits on immigration, especially from Catholic countries.

1866 Riots erupt during Reconstruction, and African-American churches are burned in Memphis and New Orleans.

1882 Strong anti-Chinese sentiment in California leads to the federal Chinese Exclusion Act which suspends immigration of Chinese laborers.

1883 Department of the Interior declares many Native American rituals to be "offenses" punishable by prison sentences of up to 30 years.

1915 The Ku Klux Klan re-emerges on a national level to preach anti-Semitism and anti-Catholicism; it amasses more than 4 million members.

1928 New York's Catholic governor Al Smith loses the presidential election to Hoover in a landslide; a Catholic President won't be elected until JFK in 1960.

1938 On November 20, Father Charles Coughlin, a Catholic priest, delivers an anti-Semitic radio address in which he defends Nazi violence.

1942 FDR signs an Executive Order establishing "exclusion zones," which leads to the internment of some 120,000 Japanese and Japanese Americans.

1970s Middle-class youths join religious groups such as the Unification Church, the Children of God and the Hare Krishna, spawning fear of cults.
It's pretty sobering, isn't it?

Religious intolerance is always sobering in its shocking, stunning Evil, whenever it rears its ugly head.

With the exception of Fred Phelps and the occasional emergence of a chapter of the Klu Klux Klan requesting a parade permit, I suspect part of the impact this list had on me is that we've gone more than thirty years without a major, significant incident of religious intolerance.

Our country has been more absorbed in racism than religious intolerance. I'm thinking, however, that the current wave of Islamophobia we are experiencing over the proposed Park51 Center is a thread in the same fabric.

The fact that we have our first Black President whose name happens to be Barack Hussein Obama is no coincidence. Franklin (Billy's son) Graham's recent comment that Mr. Obama's "problem" was that he was “born a Muslim” because the religion’s “seed” is passed from the father is a prime example. Here's what he said, in context:
“The seed is passed through the father,” Graham said. “He was born a Muslim. His father was a Muslim; the seed of Muslim is passed through the father like the seed of Judaism is passed through the mother. He was born a Muslim; his father gave him an Islamic name.”

Graham, the son of evangelist Billy Graham, acknowledged that Obama has said he is a Christian.

"He has renounced Islam, and he has accepted Jesus," Graham said. “That's what he has said he has done. I cannot say that he hasn't, so I just have to believe the president is what he has said.”

“But the confusion is because his father is a Muslim; he was born a Muslim. The Islamic world sees the president as one of theirs. That's why Qadhafi calls him his son. They see him as a Muslim,” he added. “But, of course, the president says he is a Christian, and we just have to accept it as that.”
Yeah, right. Mr. Obama's father was, of course, African. His mother was Caucasian.

If you believe that Mr. Graham believes that Mr. Obama is a "real" Christian, I've got a bridge to sell you in Brooklyn. He can't be a "real" anything in they eyes of people like Mr. Graham because of his father's "seed".

It's pretty clear to me that statement stands as a manifestation of our xenophobia and racism, hiding this time, under a pulpit gown and behind a cross.

There, I said it.

Now, the vast army of cowardly "Anonymouses" out there will write and say that, when "people like you" don't have a "real" argument" we "always play the race card."

Well, my darlings, if the shoe fits . . . .

The problem with the Racism Shoe is that it always hurts the ones you are trying to force into being shackled by it, and it invariably pinches when someone puts it back on your foot.

The only "exclusion zone" - to use FDRs euphemism - this country needs is the one for intolerance based on race, religion, creed, national origin, gender, age, sexual orientation, class status, educational background, or physical, emotional or intellectual ability.

No, this is not a Rodney King plea asking that "we all just get along".

It's deeper than that.

I'm asking us all to grow up.

At some point in our growth and development we mature and come to the realization that we can't all have our own way, even if/when we think it's the best way.

I'm asking those of us who are Christian to heed the prayer that was said at our baptism and "grow into the full stature of Christ."

I'm asking that we follow the vows made at our Baptism and confirmed when we were of age to speak for ourselves to "seek and serve Christ in all persons" and "respect the dignity of every human being."

As Christians, we are all invited, by the free gift of Grace, to feast at the Table of the Lord. But, Jesus says we are not only invited and welcomed, we must invite and welcome others. Without stipulation.

As freely as we were invited, so must we invite others. In so doing, we are reminded by St. Paul, we may entertain angels unaware.

History gives us a good perspective - especially about what can happen when fear and hysteria rule the day - but I think the lens of the gospel is the perspective needed when looking at the situation at Park51.

Love is not exclusive. Love is expansive.

And, as St. Paul reminds us, perfect love casts out fear.

French mathematician and philosopher, Blaise Pascal once wrote: "The heart has reasons which Reason cannot understand."

This is the reason for Park51. Nothing more. Nothing less.
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My Netflix Pick of the Month

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I know this is going to sound incredibly self-serving but hear me out. This month’s Netflix pick is VOLUNTEERS. Yes, my partner David Isaacs and I wrote it but that’s not why I’m recommending it – well, not the only reason.

I always thought the movie was good but uneven. And there were artistic decisions made that I didn’t (and still don’t) agree with. Breaking the fourth wall for the sake of a joke is the one that really sticks in my craw. For the sake of one laugh you completely undercut the jeopardy of the third act.

And the tone is very inconsistent. There’s a bridge building sequence that is extremely well done but looks like a National Geographic film. And then a chase scene through the drug lord’s lair that is some of the cheesiest slapstick this side of the Disney Channel (again, not my call).

So far you must be thinking, this is his pick? All he’s done is rip the film. Again, bear with me.

Recently I decided to screen it. I hadn’t actually watched the movie front-to-back in maybe three home video formats. And I must say, even with its faults, I was pleasantly surprised at how good it was. I like it much better now than I did when it came out in 1985. Usually it's the opposite. Usually I see something I remember really being proud of at the time and go "Jesus! What the hell were we thinking? This is the dog's breakfast!" Not so with VOLUNTEERS.

First off, since it’s a period piece set in the early 60s, it doesn’t look dated the way other movies of the 80s do. There’s no “look at those pants we used to wear” and “did we really think Boy George was cool?” moments. And the comic style is different from today – much more reliance on witty dialogue and storytelling than “block comedy scenes”, “trailer moments”, and shock humor.

But it’s kind of refreshing. Objectively speaking, there are a lot of funny lines that still work. And the premise remains very solid. Tom Hanks as a preppy asshole joins the Peace Corps to avoid a huge gambling debt. In the process he gets involved with wide-eyed idealists, a foreign culture that doesn’t want our help, the CIA, Chinese war lords, Communists, and the looming Viet Nam War. It all builds to a loose parody of BRIDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI. Along the way there’s also romance, brainwashing, political satire, adventure, send-ups of classic films, sex, and big 60s hits like “Wolverton Mountain.”

It’s got a terrific cast. Tom Hanks and John Candy are hilarious and if you love Gedde Wataabe, this is the picture to see!

Like I said, I was surprised.

If everyone on the planet rents or buys this movie I will still probably make less than seven cents, so this isn’t a ploy to fill my coffers. I just think it merits your attention or second look.

Ads for movies today like to include endorsements and raves from critics. So if I may be allowed to do the same…

“VOLUNTEERS… it’s better than I thought.”

“The political incorrectness still holds up!”

“Real good in parts!”

“In the right hands this movie will make a great re-make!”

“Way funnier than THE MAN WITH ONE RED SHOE”!

“Rita Wilson is half-dressed and sweaty in much of this film!”

and finally…

“If you don’t like it you can send it back”.
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A lot on my plate

Wednesday 25 August 2010 0 comments
Indeed. I've got more on my plate than I can say grace over.

Most of our "stuff" is already in Delaware. There are a few odds and ends in Chatham. We've taken the last load of clothes - just out of the dry cleaner - to Good Will. I washed all the bed linens and some table cloths and napkins and sent them off to Good Will as well.

I keep walking around the house - which now has an odd, annoying echo - with my check list and colored stickers. Stuff for a local church yard sale in October = orange sticker. Stuff for the Good Will = green sticker. Black plastic bag = take to the dump. No sticker = pack in the car and take to Rehoboth Beach.

I've also been closing out stuff at the church. My Parish Administrator is also leaving. He starts his new job September 1st. We've worked together for the past five years. He's really the BEST. I'm thrilled for him but sad the church is losing such a wonderful, talented, skilled, competent staff person. We're having lunch together on Tuesday, his last day. I'm really looking forward to that.

I'm still having looonnnnggg conversations - on the phone and with those who "just drop by the rectory" - with members of the congregation who call me to see how I'm doing and whether or not they can help. Or, to talk about "what really happened".

My gracious! I don't know how some clergy give six months or even a year's notice. It will have been 10 weeks from the time I announced my resignation to the time I leave town. Suffice it to say, it's been an interesting ride on The Kubler-Ross "Grief Train."

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.

Check. Check. Check. Check. And, Check - well, not exactly flat out acceptance. Oh, I'm sure there are many who have accepted and moved on, but not the folk who are contacting me. The delicate balance is not engaging with the person as a member of the congregation but, rather, as an individual person, remaining pastoral and compassionate and redirecting the energy.

Oh, and did I mention that there's a wedding on Saturday? Our youngest daughter's wedding? We're having mani-pedi's on Friday at 4. There's a rehearsal at 6 PM and a rehearsal dinner at 7 PM.

The wedding is Saturday - at around 7:30-ish, or whenever the sun sets and the waning gibbous moon begins to show itself in the heavens.

Ms. Conroy and I are the "Mothers of the Bride". I am also the Officiant at what's called, "A Hand Fasting Ceremony." It's really wonderful.  Ancient, in fact.  I can't wait to see it all on video.

Oh, wait. Wait. Wait. You thought this was a complaint, right?  You thought I was whining about all the work and anxiety.

Absolutely. No. Way.

I have never felt more alive. More connected with the cosmos. More in tune with God.  I am, all at once, thoroughly exhausted and positively exhilarated - if that makes any sense at all.

If it doesn't, it's okay.  It's exactly the way I fee.

My life - our life - is rich and full and deeply profoundly blessed.  We are surrounded by a wonderful, loving family. Some amazing things are happening.

Even more amazing things are about to happen. It's right there. Just around that corner. Or, perhaps, the next.  I can feel it. Smell it. Taste it.

I just can't see it right now because my plate is so full.

So, if you'll excuse me, I'll just graze on all this for awhile until some of this begins to disappear and the way forward becomes a little more clear.

Even with the bad stuff and the hassle and the annoyance and the unknowing - the beginnings and endings and beginnings all over again - it's a great time to be alive.

I'm so very, deeply grateful. 
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Another "How I was almost fired" radio story

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Here’s another censorship story – and also one of my early days in radio stories. Except this time I was the censor.

In late ‘72/early ’73 I was a board op (glorified name for engineer) at KLOS, Los Angeles. You know today’s “Classic Rock” stations that play Layla and everything ever recorded by the Allman Brothers? That’s what they played then, when it was just considered music to get stoned by.

The disc jockeys and engineers sat in booths facing each other, separated by glass. We communicated through an intercom. As an engineer, it was my job to play the music and commercials. Back then we still played “records” – these round vinyl thingys. There must be one in a museum somewhere.

But on Sunday nights KLOS abandoned its format of being your “Emerson, Lake & Palmer station" for public service programs (required by the FCC). One of these was “Impacto” hosted by Joe Ortiz -- a call-in show centering on Hispanic issues. I was the engineer.

A lot of the callers were unaware I assume that you were not allowed to swear on the air. I was forever diving for the kill button. I kept telling Joe he had to remind his callers not to use profanity but he refused. He didn’t mind the barrage of f-bombs and he accused me of censorship. Even my pleading that we could lose our license fell on deaf ears.

So needless to say, things became very tense between us.

If he wasn’t getting calls he’d signal me to play a record. I would just grab one off our playlist. This was an important fact: the ONLY records you were allowed to play were those on the playlist. Disc jockeys (or engineers) could not just bring in albums from home.

So one Sunday night the calls were light. Joe gave me the signal, I reached over to our rack of 45’s, selected one completely at random and cued it up. For reasons I don’t know to this day, he introduced it by saying, “Now here’s a song that expresses the state of the barrio.”

With that I let this record fly.



Ortiz went nuts! Screaming at me. I wish there was a kill button on the intercom. After the show he filed an official union grievance against me. I had to go before the Chief Engineer and a union board for a hearing. The charges were dropped of course. They reacted the way you probably did when you heard the song.

My good name was cleared. I was given a new shift. But then I wound up with two people hating me -- Joe Ortiz and the poor engineer who took my place.
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A place of our own

Tuesday 24 August 2010 0 comments
That chair you see above used to be in the office at the rectory. We've carted it around for the last 15 years in three different rectories.

It sits, now, in Ms. Conroy's favorite spot in the sun room at Llangollen, our wee cottage which used to be our vacation/retreat place, which we are now making our year-round home on the marsh lands of Rehoboth Bay, part of the Delmarva Peninsula, in the 'first state' of Delaware.

Ms. Conroy's position as Clinical Director of an inpatient hospice unit in Northern New Jersey is not as "portable" as mine or some others. In a little over a year's time, she will transfer to a new inpatient hospice facility which is being planned just up the road a piece.

Until then, she'll stay in a small apartment with a friend in NJ. We'll commute as often as we can - she coming here two or three weekends a month and me going up to NJ for various commitments I still have to things diocesan and local.

We've done this before, this "commuting thing". It was 1991 when I took my first position in the great Diocese of Newark. It was only supposed to be "for a few months". She and our youngest daughter moved to NJ from Baltimore, MD in 1993. We've called NJ "home" ever since.

On September 1, Delaware will officially become our home. I've just put in a bottle of champagne to chill for the occasion. It's a bit like waiting for Christmas.

If "home is where the heart is" then this has really been our home all along. It's just taking some time to finally "arrive".

It seemed important to me to create a space - a place - for Ms. Conroy in her favorite spot in the house. It's in the South West corner. If she looks toward the West, she can see Indian River just past Long Neck Road where the sea bass have been especially plentiful this year, I understand.

If she looks toward the East, she can see Rehoboth Bay and the boats coming and going on their way to go fishing or crabbing or just the experience of the sheer joy of being on a boat in the water.

If she looks directly ahead, to the North, can see into the living room, the new office/library, and the front door - the place where our two dogs, Mr. Lenny and Ms. CoCo provide endless entertainment in what we've come to call "Dog TV".

Sometimes, for absolutely no discernible reason, Lenny and CoCo get what Ms. Conroy calls "puppy crazies". They chase each other round and round - from the living room to the window in the library/office and back again.

They run and run and run. Stop suddenly, panting. Then, they take off again. Until someone calls - or 'barks' - uncle. And then, it stops and they collapse in an exhausted heap at our feet.

It's great fun to watch them. "Dog TV". We never grow tired of the reruns. And, they're all reruns.

This spot is "her" place. Here. At home. Where the heart is.

We all need that place. Doesn't have to be very big. Indeed, most of the places of the heart are not very fancy or opulent. It needs not be large at all.  It simply needs to be big enough to hold your genuine hopes and dreams, your sincere longings and the deep desires of your heart.

This is that place for Ms. Conroy. Mine is directly across the room, past the table where we gather when the family is all together and share a meal, play board or card games, or talk long into the evening with a glass of wine or mug of steaming hot tea.

Sometimes, when it's quiet, we'll both look up from our places, aroused by the memory of laughter or conversation that sometimes floats above that table.  And we share a deep, satisfied smile before we return to reading, or needlework or our laptops.

It will be good to have her here, full time.

Until then, she has a place of her own.

Waiting for her. Here. At home.
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One of my favorite network censor stories

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Yeah, this one's a dandy. It occurred on MAUDE, a big hit show from the 70s. Remember last month my post on CBS Standards & Practices having a list of unacceptable words? They were even worse in the 70s.

MAUDE was a spinoff of ALL IN THE FAMILY and had that same biting edge to it. Censors were always having fits. Hey, they had an abortion episode on MAUDE. Meanwhile, Marcia Brady struggled with split ends.

On show nights MAUDE had two tapings. One at 5:30 and the other at 8:00. They then edited together the best performances. And in between the writers fixed jokes that clunked.

One week there was a joke the censor objected to. I don't know specifically what the joke was. The producers fought vehemently that the line was acceptable. Finally the censor offered a compromise.

They could do the joke during the 5:30 taping.

But if it got a laugh it had to come out.

What??!! How the hell do you even respond to that????

That’s the kind of thing we had to deal with. I think if that censor were assigned to TWO AND A HALF MEN his head would explode by week two.

Tomorrow: another censorship story...but this one almost got me fired.
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Manic Street Preachers, Hey Champ

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MANIC STREET PREACHERS - I'm Leaving You For Solitude 192 kbps
Rock, Pop

(Photo: rcrdlbl.com)

Blackwood, Wales. 20th September MSP is going to release their 10th studio album 'Postcards From A Young Man'. In order to advert to it James Dean Bradfield & Co. are droping this non-track-album 'I'm Leaving You For Solitude'. It has a simple melody, but it's still beautiful. Have fun with it!




Dance, Electronic, Rock

(Photo: myspace.com/heychamp)

Chicago, IL, USA. The Trio give away this delicious danceable remix by Database of their track 'Neverest'. Also, check out Hey Champ Myspace-Page for their other tracks and videos by clicking here. There you'll get all information about Saam Hagshenas, Jon Marks and Pete Dougherty. Enjoy the remix!

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Poster for #INCEPTION sequel

Monday 23 August 2010 0 comments
Many thanks to blog reader Michael for creating the poster to the sequel of INCEPTION. This goes back to my previous post -- Studio notes for INCEPTION. Thanks Mike!
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Fish Dance Prayer

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Have you ever been so tired - or your mind so full of stuff - that you couldn't sleep?

That's the way I was last night.

My body felt like lead. My eyelids were heavy. But my mind was in such a whir, I couldn't turn it off, causing my body to toss and turn around in my bed like the so much flour and butter, sugar and eggs in my KitchenAid mixer.

Finally, a little after midnight, I got up, made a steaming hot cup of tea, and sat out on the deck in the delightfully cool night air.

It had rained on and off most of the evening. Bursts of gentle, warm rain that were sometimes preceded by loud claps of thunder and a few streaks of lightening.

Mostly, though, it sounded gentle. Soothing. Like a shower of blessings come down from heaven.

The storms rolled past Rehoboth Bay, one by one. At one point, the Internet service was knocked out for about four hours. I found myself slightly annoyed to be inconvenienced, but then found a sort of satisfied delight that a gentle rain had the strength to take down the power of communication in cyberspace.

I imagined the cosmos playing "Rock. Paper. Scissors," with Cybernerds. "My rain stops your electric waves." Or, whatever it is that carries messages in cyberspace.

There was a Waxing Gibbous Moon high in the sky, more than half-lighted but less than full. The word gibbous comes from a root word that means hump-backed, the thought of which always makes me giggle.

I love the phrase, 'waxing gibbous moon'. I also love 'waning gibbous moon' - when the moon is past full but still fully lit.

Sounds like poetry, doesn't it? 

No sense looking for The Summer Triangle — the stars Vega, Deneb, and Altair — which highlights the eastern half of the sky in August. Too many clouds tonight.

There will be a full moon tonight, which, in August is known as the Grain Moon or Green Corn Moon. It's also the smallest full moon (say my Islamic friends - who are observing Ramadan, so it's important to know) and it will be 15% less brighter than the regular full moon.

The full moon will become a waning gibbous moon for our daughter's wedding this Saturday night, which, she tells me, should happen at "around 7:30-ish, whenever the sun sets". No, she's not Jewish. Neither is the groom. That's just the way they are.

"We were married at sunset by the light of a waning gibbous moon." Sounds positively romantic, doesn't it?

Did I mention that there's a wedding this coming weekend? Why, yes. Yes, in fact, there is. Our youngest daughter is getting married in just a few days.

These were a few of the things whirring around in my rapidly addling brain - that and things like, "Should I put the wine glasses on that shelf or the one closer to the wine rack?" And, "Is that really the best place for the Christmas Lenox?"

I tried to take some slow, deep, meditative breaths, but something kept disturbing my concentration.

I wasn't out on the deck more than five minutes when I first heard it.

"Bloop. . . . . Bloop. . . . .SPLASH!"

Quiet.

I looked up and down the pier to see if I might see someone doing a little fishing, but there was no one in sight.

"Bloop. . . . . Bloop. . . . .SPLASH!"

Quiet.

Curious, I got up from my deck chair and went over to the rail,  and was richly rewarded for my efforts by a magnificent sight.

The light of the waxing gibbous moon was dancing on the water when up popped a fish - probably a pike - maybe three, four inches long.

Before my throat could gasp in surprise, there popped up another. Then another.

It looked like a Summer Fish Dance out on the marsh, after midnight, in the cool, clean just-washed-by-the-rain air, and all by the light of a waxing gibbous moon.

As I watched them for awhile, I wondered what caused them to dance like that. Was it the light of the moon? The beautiful clean night air?

Perhaps they danced because it was now safe to do so - no birds flying about to pluck them out, mid-dance, from the water?

Was this their midnight prayer? Dancing in praise and joy and thanksgiving to the glory of the God of their creation?

Nah, probably just sea lice, all stirred up by the rain on the water. I'm told by some of the Bay men in the neighborhood that fish often jump to rid themselves of the bother and itch of them.

Still, it was a beautiful sight. I felt a bit like a voyeur, a very privileged spectator watching them in their unabashed display of whatever it was, just after midnight, distracting me from the myriad of mundane thoughts that had been whirring around in my head.

That's when I remembered something.

Entering into actual prayer while presiding at a Eucharistic Service can sometimes be an impossible task. There are so many details to which one has to attend. What are the acolytes doing? (The rule of the Adolescent Acolyte: "It's all fun until something goes wrong. And then, it's hysterical.")

Where is the lector for the second reading? So-and-so looks distressed - I wonder if s/he got downsized? Has her husband's condition gotten worse? Didn't she have some tests this week? Is the surgery this week or next? Make sure to connect with him . . her . . . them . . . after the service.

One must also be ever-mindful of one's 'audience'. I mean, my task is to lead the people of God in prayer. It's what a 'presider' does. That's difficult to do when one looks like one is distracted and not actually in prayer.

I remember Ms. Conroy saying to me once, years ago, "You know, we see you. You may be fooling yourself, but you're not fooling us. We see you counting us. Stop that. Let the ushers do it. You just lead us in prayer."

Sometimes, the only time I can really pray is during the hymns. I know many of them by heart. Yes, after 24 years of singing them, it's not hard. Sing a hymn that many times over the years and memorization is not a difficult task. It just happens.

The truth is that sometimes, when I'm on retreat, or when I'm going through spiritual dry spells, singing hymns is the only way I can pray.

Little bits of verses, memorized by heart, will float up through the cracks in my broken heart, soothing and surrounding my weary soul.
"Come my Joy, my Love, my Heart. . . such a joy as none can move. . . such a love that none can part. Such a heart as joys in love. "

"Seven whole days, not one in seven, I will praise thee. In my heart though not it heaven, I can raise thee. Small it is in this poor sort to enroll thee. E'en eternity's too short to extol thee."

"Perverse and foolish oft I strayed, but yet in love He sought me, and on His shoulder gently laid and home rejoicing brought me."

"Each newborn servant of the Crucified bears on the brow the seal of Him who died."

"Oh day of peace that dimly shines through all our hopes and prayers and dreams . . . Then shall the wolf dwell with the lamb, nor shall the fierce devour the small. As beasts and cattle calmly graze, a little child shall lead them all. . . ."

"And, when from death I'm free, I'll sing on, I'll sing on . . . . . And through eternity, I'll sing on . . ."
There are many, many others, but those are among my favorites.

Sometimes, right there in the middle of the service, I'll close my eyes and sing the words that have inscribed themselves on the walls of my heart and come as close as I ever do to really praying in the midst of the very public practice of presiding.

Every now and again, I'll open my eyes and look out over the congregation. Ninety-nine percent of the congregation will have their noses buried in the Hymnal. Every now and again, some will lift their eyes from the page, tilt their heads toward heaven, close their eyes and, like me, sing from the words written on their hearts.

I always loved to see parents with children who were just beginning to read words and/or music singing together from the hymnal.

Some parents juggle a babe in one arm, holding the hymnal in the other, while trying to fish out a toddler from under the pews.

But there are always the same small handful of people, staring at me. The same ones who have been my sharpest critics. Every Sunday. Without fail.

There were some really mean-spirited people in some churches. Not many. Enough to make it really difficult. Predators. Like pike. With bland tasting white flesh. So filled with tiny, prickly bones that fishermen often throw them back into the water. Definitely not a good catch.

I remember one man who always looked at me with a sort of cynical bemusement. The expression on his face was always, "Hmm . . .Look at that. . . she seems to know all the words . . .nice trick."

One or two others were clearly disgusted, the expression on their faces clearing communicating their thoughts: "Harumph! Show off!"

But the other four or so were clearly curious, "What is she doing? Looks like she's . . . hmmm . . .what is that?. How odd! Father 'Whatshisface" never did THAT! Whatever IS she doing? Why is she doing that? How does she remember the words?"

At least, as I read their expressions every Sunday and heard their gossip, that's what I thought they might be thinking. A few of them in one church eventually stopped coming into church for the Service of the Word. They would hang out in the glass Narthex, having animated conversations. You know. So I could actually see they weren't paying attention. Popping in just for the announcements and for communion.

Maybe I confused them by actually praying in public.

Nah. Probably just thought I had a bad case of sea lice.

Besides, while most people in churches are wonderful, the few who make it difficult are also among those in the community who disdained of any PDAs = Public Displays of Affection. And prayer for me is often a sublime act of love. Ms. Conroy and I would be scrupulous to avoid PDAs in church. Don't want to scare the horses with even a hint of 'the ick-factor'.

Interestingly enough, I would find myself being embarrassed. Like I had been caught with all my clothes off in public. Public prayer - like preaching - is often times the most naked thing I do.

The term, "resident alien" comes to mind.

Never mind, I would tell myself. Lead by example. Show them what real prayer can be like. Maybe they'll actually try it sometime in the not-too-distant future.

"Bloop. . . . . Bloop. . . . .SPLASH!"

My wandering, whirring thoughts wound their way back into the beautiful night on my deck over looking the marshes off Rehoboth Bay.

Suddenly, it was I who felt embarrassed, watching their naked dance.

Just then, a cloud moved away from the moon and I felt its light bathe my face, melting my embarrassment and pulling at my feet. Suddenly, I found myself dancing with the fish by the light of the waxing gibbious moon.

I felt healed of some ancient, unknown wound. I felt release and freedom. I felt joy and peace.

I heard myself begin to sing one of my favorite hymns as prayer,
"The peace of God, it is no peace, but strife clothed in the sod. Yet let us pray for but one thing, the marvelous peace of God."
I finished my tea, came in the house, and slept, as they say in Ghana, "like a foolish man."

Prayer will do that for you.
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