Archive for July, 2007
And in honour of those lovely, humorless, didactic people meeting deep in the heart of Texas, we offer a dog salute to what surely must be their honorary mascot, Lonetree’s Turn Back Time…
Here’s to you, people! Welcome to the 17th century!
Salute!
Wonkette has the full details…
Last Saturday doctors performed surgery on George Bush’s asshole, and this Saturday they’ll do it again!
Honest, Mimi told me to post this - I’m still on grandpup duty and don’t have time to make this stuff up right now!
A wee laddie in training for pastoral assignments later in life…
This is a very rare photo found in an antique store in Newcastle, according to Mimi.
Be sure to tell the ABC and the B-DCNY that it’s safe to come out of their underground bunkers this week, clumber and the Missus have their oldest grandpup visiting for the week, and there’s barely time to get in an afternoon nap… and hardly any energy left for any barkings from me!
You know the story…
Repeat after me…. hoo rah ken ya!
hoo rah ken ya!
Once more, with feeling! Come on people! I can’t hear you!
It is ten minutes past six by the invisible clock on the wall. Minute by minute new objects gain form. In the dim light of morning the young priest sprawls in his chair, head down on his desk. For the past several months, he has dreamed many dreams about the church. His dreams have taken hold of his research. But the dreaming is finished. Out of the many possible natures of the church, imagined in as many nights, one seems compelling. Not that the others are impossible. The others might exist in other worlds.
The young priest is Rowan Cerberus. In his dreams he imagines new worlds, in which the church can be circular, or flow backwards, or slow down at higher altitudes, or take the form of a nightingale.
10 May 1905
In many ways it is a town of one piece and a whole. Spruce and larch and arolla pine form a gentle border north and west, while higher up there are fire lilies, purple gentians, alpine columbines.
On closer look, it is a town in many pieces. One neighborhood church lives in the fifteenth century. Another church of the village is a picture of the eighteenth century. Another church holds the present. Each church of the village is fastened to a different time. Portions of towns become stuck in some moment in history and do not get out. So, too, individual people become stuck in some point of their lives and do not get free.
21 April 1905
In this world, the church is led by a single person, clad in red shoes, and who cannot make a decision. All choices seems equally good, and floating along in the river in a boat reading Dostoevsky is the most pleasant of all recreations. All ideas are given hearings and no conclusions are reached. It is a world of uncertainty and aimlessness, unfocused and drifting.
3 May 1905
In this world, the church is splintered into a million pieces, all going in different directions. Each person in fact is a church and no one speaks civilly to anyone else. It is a church of anger and the only words spoken among the various churches are hate filled and laced with vitriol.
12 May 1905
In this world, the church is united into one whole, reading together, talking as one, and prayers are mechanical things. Feedback is provided to The Central Authority which notes any deviation from the accepted norm and corrects such straying from the single Truth. The Truth is tattooed on every believer’s arm, where it can be consulted whenever any doubt arises.
Ah well, you get the idea… go read Lightman’s version and translate it for yourselves. He’s a master.
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