Category Archives: purely humorous

June 16, 2010 · 00:12

Meeting Jesus and the Team at 7-11

One of my customs on my way to work is to stop by my local 7-11 for a cup of French Vanilla Coffee with 3 French Vanilla coffee creamers, course brown sugar and a packet of Splenda when I pick up my garden salad which I consume for lunch at work. It is always a nice break for me on the way to work to smell the fresh coffee and take the time to prepare my cup of coffee exactly the way that I like it, which by the way before Iraq was not like this. Back before Iraq I always drank it black with no cream or sugar but alas all good things…right? Anyway as I was saying on this particular day I went to my neighborhood 7-11 to get my coffee and my salad the usual blue collar crowd was getting their coffee as I walked in with my orange and black trimmed retro-Baltimore Orioles Cal Ripken Junior jersey and home black and orange billed cap with the traditional Oriole on the front. I am a stickler for tradition and though every major league team have caps that little resemble the on the field caps in various colors and designs I refuse to wear any but the authentic head gear, preferably a New Era Wool 59/50 fitted cap or the 39/30 batting practice cap. This kind of sets me apart from most customers who if they wear baseball gear wear the non-regulation stuff of winning teams like the Yankees or Red Sox but I digress.

On this particular morning there was a man that walked in as I was preparing my cup of coffee a man walked up beside me. He was about 5’ 8” and looked like that he was from Lebanon or somewhere else in to Middle East. I say Lebanon because I have known many Lebanese my mind went that way. I noticed that his hands were rough hewn and had some very nasty looking scars in them and he wore a pair of sports sandals much like the kind that I wear from which I could see some scars on either foot. He was wearing what appeared to be a retro “Cooperstown Classic” California Angels “CA” cap with the red bill and halo as well as a late 1960s or early 1970s Angel’s jersey which appeared to be game worn with the number “7” sewn on the back.

As I put my first creamer into my coffee he turned and looked at me and asked “Orioles fan?” Now I frequently get comments about whatever baseball apparel that I wear, especially the Orioles and the comments general reflect a certain pity due to the sad state of the franchise and especially the performance this year. I said “Yes sir, one of the faithful.”

He chuckled and said, “Someone has to remain faithful to the Orioles, God love ‘em, they have been a great franchise and all of great teams the Hall of Famers that they have produced.” He shook his head “You just keep being faithful, they’re just going through some pretty hard times right now….by the way, I’m a baseball fan too, would you guess an Angels’ fan?”

“We’ll sir that goes without saying; I don’t think that I have seen a game worn 1970s Angels’ jersey since my dad used to take us to the “Big A” to see them as kids. We went to games down there all the time; it’s where I really came to love the game of baseball.”

“Yes my friend there is something special about baseball, it’s really good when dads get their kids involved in the game.” He paused. “Oh the jersey, this jersey does date me a little; I’ve always been an Angels’ fan, even before they were in Anaheim.”

“So you were a Los Angeles Angels fan too?”

“We’ll yeah, in a way, but even before that considering that I created them.”

I was tearing the foil top off of the third creamer when he said that and I kind of lost control of the container and spilled in on the stainless steel counter. As I stood there feeling quite inept he said, “Sorry man, my fault I’ll get that” and as my wondering eyes stared in disbelief he waved his rough hewn and scarred hand gently about a foot off of the counter and to my amazement the white creamer disappeared from the countertop revealing a perfectly clean and shiny surface as the little blue cup that it was in sailed into the trash receptacle’s round hole in the top of the counter.

He continued to talk as he poured a cup of 7-11 “Heavenly Blend” coffee into a 24 ounce cup, and another 24 ounce cup and yet another 24 ounce cup handing them to other customers as he did so and miraculously the coffee pot remained full as he kept pouring until all the customers and counter staff each had a cup of coffee. “So anyway like I was saying back when I created the Angels baseball was different, no steroids, players stayed with a team forever unless perhaps it wasn’t God’s will. If it wasn’t then you never knew what might happen.”

I stood by dumbly looking at this diminutive man with the scarred hands and feet pouring out cup after cup of coffee from the bottomless pot of coffee and I was I was quite impressed with his performance and said: “Sir that is impressive I’ve never seen the pot remain full like that before though being poured out into many cups, 24 ounce cups at that.”

He chuckled and said “Steve, I tell you what it’s all in the wrist, all in the wrist.” His eyes sparkled in amusement at my dismay as I stammered “But how did you know my name?”

“But I should since you know me.”

“I know you?” I asked. “Have we served together in the military?”

“No not that, kind of like Church work, you kind of work for me even though you’re in the Navy.”

“How did you know I was in the Navy?”

“Well duh… Steve, this is Norfolk, what else is here?” Looking at me with a amused but slightly more serious glance he said “Hey, I helped get you in the Navy when the Army told you to pound sand about going onto active duty.”

“You weren’t my recruiter, or the Chaplain that interviewed me and you are way too short to be Bishop Doug.”

“Think higher and bigger Steve, let your mind open up a little bit.” He paused “Like you did notice my hands and feet didn’t you?”

“Well yeah…but I really haven’t woken up until I get that first cup of coffee in me and well a lot of people have scars on their hands….” And then it hit me. “Oh, my God, you’re Jesus.”

“Of course I am and yes I am your God, so you’re right there too…it took you a little bit now you’re cooking with gas.”

“But this is like 7-11?”

“Yeah I know, I like the coffee and the people are pretty down to earth, they tend to appreciate when someone does something nice for them, even if it is God.”

“We’ll I come here for the same reasons.”

“Well at least you’ve learned something.” He paused, put his hand on my shoulder and said “Finish foo-fooing your coffee and come with me; I want you to meet some of my friends.” He turned and said to May the Filipina behind the counter “May, how much do I owe you for everything?”

“Mr. Jesus sir that is $84.35 with tax” said the short and slightly heavy set lady at the cash register.

“May, put it on the card” said the Lord.

“You got it Mr. Jesus” said the cheery Filipina at the register and without any transaction that my failing eyes could see the cashier rang up Jesus and miraculously the bill was paid in full. Since this Padre Steve believes in miracles but is not necessarily seeing them at 7-11 in as many varied forms as the rather unbiblical, or shall I say rather earthy and dare I say contemporary looking Lord was performing in my humble neighborhood 7-11.

“You know her?”

“Of course I do Steve, I know my people and I love them, didn’t you read that in your Bible somewhere?”

Well…uh…yes I think I have….somewhere in the Gospels, I am never good at quoting chapter and verse.”

“Unless it is the latest Tides box score, right?”

“Jesus, that’s really not fair, you do that too I’m sure.”

“Yeah, but can’t get away from it and you a Priest or do I have to remind you?”

“I guess.”

“That’s better, thank you, let’s meet my friends.”

I walked out the door and a number of guys who also looked a tad on the Lebanese or Arabic side of the house were gathered around a extended Chevy suburban. I looked at the vehicle and asked Jesus “this belongs to you?”

The Lord drew the brim of his cap back revealing a bit of his forehead shook his head and said “Steve, Steve, I own everything, but this belongs to Peter over there, he has a thing for them.” A burley man with a pony-tail, curly flowing beard a tattoo of a fish on his forearm and a New York Yankees cap waved at me and said “Dude, where does Jesus know you from, you and that loser Orioles gear that you have on.” A number of others in Yankee caps laughed and slapped the big man on the back.

“Peter, remember the first shall be last, one day what comes around goes around, don’t forget the CBS years in New York.”

“Oh, don’t remind me of that boss, that sucked, we didn’t win anything back then.” The men around in Yankees caps also stopped laughing and looked down.

“Anyway, Steve, meet the boys, you’ve already met Peter, but this is James and his brother John” both wore Oakland Athletics caps and matching Kelly green T-shirts, “they call them the sons of thunder because of their hitting ability, some call them the Bash brothers but don’t tell Canseco and McGuire, I think they have a patent on that.”

I extended my hand “nice to meet you” and the brothers greeted me in a cheery manner.

“Over here is Old James, some people call him the elder and he’s not got much left in the legs but is a good DH.” He paused and looked across the way where on the other side of the hood of the suburban two other guys stood, one had a Red Sox hat, another a Reds cap and one a Nationals hat. “Andrew, Philip, Nathaniel, this is Steve, he’s a brother.”

One of the young men a bit on the thin side wearing the Nationals hat called out “Brother! Jesus how can you say that? Can anything good come out of Baltimore?”

“Nat, knock it off until Strasburg and Storen win you a pennant you ain’t got room to talk.” He looked to the front of the store where a number of others talked among themselves eating breakfast burritos and drinking coffee. “Hey guys come and introduce you to Steve; he’s a Navy Chaplain and a Priest.”

“Priest huh? I doubt that he’s got an Orioles jersey on” called out a smallish man in a Cubs hat.

“Steve forgive him, he doubts everyone.” Looking at the Cubs fan he said “Thomas must you, haven’t we had this talk already?” He then introduced the others. One was a man without a ball cap that was wearing a sports jacket and had a briefcase. “This is Matthew, our tax attorney, used to work for the IRS, glad to have him in the front office, not everyone needs to be on the field do they buddy?” Jesus pointed at another one of the men and said “this over here is Simon the Zealot.” Simon wore a Tigers cap and Jesus looked at me and said “he’s pretty fanatical plays hard every day, a lot like Ty Cobb.” Another was beside these men, a man in a Cardinals cap, rather quiet and reserved looked up and said hello to me. Jesus said “that’s Thaddeus, he’s a Rays fan, forgot his cap today.”

I looked at Jesus and said “don’t you have twelve guys on the road squad?”

Jesus wiped his brow as the sun began to heat up the porch of the 7-11 and said “oh yeah, let me show you some pictures they aren’t here today. He pulled out his wallet and showed me a picture of a shifty looking man wearing a Dodgers’ cap and matching jersey, game worn. “This is Judas, he used to handle the money on road trips, got us into a bunch of trouble and wouldn’t you know it took money to double cross the boss. I really loved him but knew that he would try something, in fact last spring we were out here and had a light breakfast over at Krispy Kreme.”

“The one on Virginia Beach Boulevard?” I asked.

“Jesus replied “that’s the one partner, love them when they have the hot original glazed don’t you?”

I replied in the affirmative and Jesus continued. “You see I trusted Judas with a lot but the guy was greedy, tried to say that I was doin’ ‘roids to get my powers wanting to take their jobs and turned me in, it wasn’t . Before he took the 30 grand for his effort he dunked his donut in my coffee and took off when he knew that I knew. Of course they arrested me and didn’t even put the case to a real judge but a bunch of legislators, lawyers and preachers. Well, the poor guy felt badly when they convicted me and hanged his self from the Ebbetts field foul pole when they wouldn’t take the money back or let me go. It was sad my friend, just sad.”

“But you did get a draft pick for him didn’t you?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, Matthias was one of the picks, he actually made the starting team, the guys liked him and choose him while I was away and of course there’s the player that I picked up, took him right off the other team like the Yankees did Johnny Damon a few years back.”

“Is that Paul?” I asked as I looked at the picture of an elegant looking man in a Padres’ uniform.

“Sure the heck is buddy, and that guy was a find, not much of a sense of humor but a trooper on the road sometimes hard to work with but one of the best eyes for a pitch, especially after the scales came off that you could imagine, great judge of talent even though Barnabas, another All-Star mind you had a falling out with him. Heck he even wrote a lot of the rule book. He calls him as he sees them; he even called Peter on the carpet at a big shindig. Didn’t he Pete?” Peter mumbled something under his breath and looked away.

“You gotta love guys like Pete, heck I even gave him a set of keys, he’s not perfect but I trust him” Jesus said as he looked me in the eye.

“So with all of these all stars why do you want someone like me?”

“Steve, come on how long have you known me now? Most of your life isn’t it?”

I looked down and said, “yeah Lord, it’s been a long time.”

“Have I given up on you partner?”

“No.”

“When you were going through all those hard times and wondered where I was when you came back from Iraq did I give up on you?”

“No Lord.”

“Stop with the Lord stuff, I get that all the time back at the home office. By the way since you insist that God speaks to you through baseball you might as well know that he does. So you can consider this a little encouragement and you can call me ‘Skip’ if you want but lay off the Lord thing once in a while, everybody does it and the people who punctuate every little prayer with “Lord” eighteen times during the prayer really get pretty annoying after a while, not that I stop listening or caring but I know my name, besides I’m pretty secure in who I am.”

“Okay Skip.” I looked up at him and and smiled. As I did this he put his hand on my shoulder like a good manager talking to a no name journeyman said “don’t forget just who you are playing for, do well but know that you belong on my team. I have some plans for you.”

“Thanks Skip, that’s pretty encouraging coming from you.”

“No prob friend, no problem whasoever.”

I’ve been a Priest and chaplain for what seems like forever but I felt like a rookie pitcher on the mound getting the talk from the manager to make sure that I had my stuff together. Maybe I needed it. I looked at my watch.

“Oh Lord, I mean Skip I’ve got to get to work, I’m going to be late as it is and with all the times that I had trouble sleeping and not waking up I don’t need to be late, the boss would never believe this one.”

Jesus smiled at me, waved his hand and the sun went back a little way to the east and I looked at my watch and the time was nearly a hour earlier than it was just a few seconds before.

“How’s that?”

“Thanks Skip, that really helps.” I stuttered in true thanksgiving as I knew that no one would believe this story in a million years.

“Steve you take care, do good, I’ll keep checking on you. Keep your eye on the ball, keep your butt down on the grounders and stay in front of the ball. Take care of the rookies and make sure that the veterans in their declining years get the recognition that they deserve and don’t forget their families, they matter too. Keep spreading the good news too, so much bad news around the earth even I had to turn off all the Cable News channels, even the one that says that they are fair and balanced, so much negativity it makes your head swim.”

I began to walk to my car and Jesus said, your coffee is probably cold by now so go get a refill on me and don’t worry about the time I just opened the HOV to all traffic, the Downtown tunnel is clear and there’s a glitch in the State Troopers radar systems.

I offered my profuse thanks, especially for the help in the traffic and as I took off the lid to my refill mug I noticed that it was full of fresh hot coffee just the way I liked it. Jesus and the boys got into the extra large Suburban with Peter behind the wheel Thomas loaded a couple of equipment bags in the back of the truck and as they pulled out I shouted out “just where are you guys going now?” Jesus rolled down his window and said “Dyersville Iowa, I hear they have a special baseball field there and some great players too.”

“Skip, I think that you’ll like it there.”

“Thanks Steve and take care, keep up the faith down at the Church of Baseball Harbor Park Parish and don’t lose faith in the O’s” and with that Peter put the truck in gear and pointed at his Yankee hat as he backed the truck out of the parking space. they exited the parking lot onto the street leading to I-264 and as they rolled down the road the Suburban disappeared in a vapor trail and they were gone.

I got into my trusty 2001 Honda CR-V put the coffee in the cup holder and closed the door. I said a quick prayer of thanks and turned the key. “What a deal, it’s not every day that you meet Jesus in 7-11.”

Peace,

Padre Steve+

5 Comments

Filed under Baseball, Batlimore Orioles, christian life, purely humorous, Religion

Tagged as 12 disciples, 39/30 caps, 59/50 caps, 7-11, baltimore Orioles, bash brothers, boston red sox, California Angels, chevy suburban, church, church of baseball, coffee, cooperstown classic, cubs fans, dodgers, dyersville iowa, ebbetts field, field of dreams, honda cr-v, i-264, jesus christ, jose canseco, Krispy Kreme Donuts, mark mcguire, new era caps, new york yankees, norfolk tides, st louis cardinals, st paul the apostle, st peter the apostle, the big a, ty cobb, virginia beach blvd

March 25, 2010 · 23:41

And it’s One, Two Three Wives You’re out….Memories Residency at Parkland Memorial Hospital ER

Parkland ER (Life Magazine Photo)

This is another one of those unusual incidents that I faced during my Pastoral Care Education Residency at Parkland Memorial Hospital. I was in a mood over the weekend and wrote one that was really creepy called The “Eyes” have it; they’ve got Sammy Davis Eyes….an Experience from My Clinical Pastoral Education Residency about a day where I dealt with two unusual eye cases. That one read almost like something from “Tales from the Crypt” or “Tales from the Dark Side.” This is less creepy and sort of ironic in a weird sort of way.

The day was one of those typical Parkland days during my residency where the abnormal was the norm and norm was not doing so well….or at least Norm (my name for this particular patient- the name has been changed because his real name was probably even more boring) wasn’t doing well. But first let me lay a little background.

Some people live life with secrets. Yes my friends SECRETS. These are dirty nasty secrets that they don’t even share with people inside their “circle of trust.” In fact I had a brother in law who was much into something called bigamy which if you ask me wasn’t very biga-him or bright of him. We figure that he had a number of “families” and since he can’t be found in the Social Security Death index assume that he was operating under a number of names and socials….but I digress God rest his soul.

It seems that sudden and uncontrolled events sometimes bring secrets to light, in fact I think that somewhere Jesus said something about this… something like whatever is done in the dark will be seen in the light…you something like that. Sometimes these traumatic events reveal secrets that are for the individual a fate worse than a fate worse than death…which in the case of Norm was true in both ways. Its almost like when “Death” shows up in an episode of Family Guy and I can in sense see this happening with Norm, Death deciding to visit him at work.

Norm as I call him had an accident at work….he worked in an oil refinery and since we all know from Al Gore that oil companies are all bad it was probably their fault. However….Norm had a very bad day, in fact it could be labeled the suckiest last day of his life where indeed Death paid him a visit. We don’t know really what happened but toward the end of the work day Norm the unfortunate either fell into a vat of hot tar at the refinery and subsequently went into cardiac arrest, or he went into cardiac arrest and fell into the vat of hot tar. So the Dallas Fire Department EMS showed up quickly and with the assistance of the refinery rescue team extracted him from the muck, got an airway began CPR and rushed the tar covered Norm to Parkland where as usual when odd things occurred I was on call. As they brought him in the paramedics had the pneumatic CPR machine known as “Thumper” going and were “bagging” him. Needless to say Norm did not look too well. He was brought into the Cardiac Resuscitation room one, a fully equipped state of the art room designed to give the treatment team on the Medicine side of the ER the best chance to save someone’s life, they were a medicine version of our Trauma rooms on the surgery side of the ER. However the team realized very quickly that Norm had bought the farm and the code was called.

I began to work with the nursing staff to try to find out if Norm had any family but stopped when a woman identified as his wife showed up. She was escorted into one of our three ER consult rooms by one of our Police officers. There a young resident did his best impression of Star Trek’s Doctor McCoy “Mrs. Norm…he’s dead.” I think he expressed his condolences as well, he answered her questions the best that he could while the nursing staff and I supported and calmed her. When he was done and death and funeral home paperwork was done we escorted Mrs. Norm to see her now departed husband and after a tearful visit to him we took her back to the consult room, gave her a chance to compose herself and ask more questions. When she was done she departed saying that a friend was waiting for her. With that done the nursing staff began to prepare his body for the morgue where he would briefly remain until the Dallas Country Medical Examiner staff picked him up. I busied myself with taking care of the staff and checking the charts and paperwork since Chaplains were also the guardians of the Morgue since the Pastoral Care Department also handled Decedent care.

About 45 minutes after the wife had left the officer who had escorted her to the consult room came to me. He said “Chaplain his wife is here.” I looked quizzically at him and said “No she left.” With a bit of a smile the officer, a really good guy looked at me and said “No Chaplain not her, another one.” I was floored. Another wife? This certainly couldn’t be happening. I thought this happened only in remote parts of Utah where renegade fundamentalist splinter groups from the Mormon Church flaunted the main Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints by practicing Polygamy and we were in the heart of Dallas with big hair, big cars, big churches and the Cowboys, but not this. After gathering myself I went to the physicians and nurses to tell them the good news. As they stared at me blankly I got the doctor who had talked with “Number One” to come and spend some time with “Number Two.” We repeated the procedure with wife number two, notification was given, pastoral care and prayer provided, a visit was paid to Norm but with the twist that the doctor asked if she knew about any other family. Which she did not and since “Number One” had presented the appropriate identification first we let “Number Two” know that she would probably have to deal with the hitherto unknown “Number One.” Surprisingly though the news had taken her by surprise she was sort of okay with this and left for wherever.

I went back to the doctor’s station where I was working on paperwork and talking with the incredulous staff about what had just transpired when one of the unit clerk’s came over to us. She said that Norm’s wife was on the phone. The doctor and I looked at each other and I asked “which one?” The clerk then said “the one in Mexico.” Yet a third wife….the doctor and I let her know that Norm had passed away and that she needed to contact the Medical Examiner’s office for more information. The doctor asked if Norm has any other “family” and “Number Three” said just her and her children. Norm really got around. The doctor and I decided not to break the fact that she was “third” to her and let the Medical Examiner’s office sort out the sordid details of this twisted evening.

So it was one, two, three wives and Norm was out at the old ball game. I have no idea what happened later but can only imagine what it would have been to be a cockroach in the cupboard listening to the meeting of these three women who all shared the love, or maybe the lust of Norm.

Peace and stay safe and keep those relationships in order for any of us could be the next contestant on “Death pays a Visit.”

Peace my friends,

Padre Steve+

2 Comments

Filed under ER's and Trauma, healthcare, Pastoral Care, purely humorous

Tagged as al gore, bigamy, dallas county medical examiner, dallas fire department ems, death, family guy death, oil companies, oil refineries, parkland memorial hospital, parkland memorial hospital emergency department, secrets, sudden traumatic death

March 21, 2010 · 23:23

Why Johnny Can’t Read Maps: NCAA Tournament Geography for Dummies and a Solution

I love the NCAA College Men’s Basketball Tournament. It is the only time of year that I will even watch basketball since like football and other sports it is simply another heretic sect compared to the one true religion, the Church of Baseball of which I am a confirmed member of at the Harbor Park Parish, Section 102, Row B, seats 1 and 2. I have really liked this year’s tournament since none of my alma maters are in it and I am rooting for underdogs and many have won…God Bless Northern Iowa, St Mary’s, ODU, Cornell, Ohio and all the others who have knocked off the big programs in the first two rounds. A usual I failed to complete a bracket sheet but if I had if would have looked something like the “Sweet Sixteen” does now except there would have been no number ones left, maybe even not any number twos. But hey…it’s only a game as compared to baseball thank you.

Now my purpose is not in talking about the games, the teams or the tournament itself. Instead it is to express my bewilderment at geographic ignorance and maybe incontinence of the NCAA committee’s knowledge of geography in regard to the so called “regions.” I mean this is insane. What are we teaching the next generation? That Providence Rhode Island in the Midwest and Spokane Washington is in the South? Is this not insane? Are we not living in a society people?

Now please do not take offense and call me a sociopath. I am not a sociopath I was a History major and have a Master of Arts in History as well. But as a mere historian I did gain a slight appreciation of Geography, even that to the good old USA despite focusing on Europe and the Pacific. For a fact I know that Providence Rhode Island is in New England which happens to be in the Northeast. I know this because I have been there and spent a decent amount of time going to Navy schools in Rhode Island. Likewise I have lived in Jacksonville Florida which is in the East but would really be considered part of the South and to cover their bases the NCAA committee has in both the South and the East. Buffalo is in both the West and the East which kind of makes it schizophrenic. Of course then there is Spokane Washington which according to the NCAA is in the Midwest. Last time I checked it is WEST of the Rocky Mountains in the wasteland o eastern Washington but very much in the Northwest. Milwaukee Wisconsin is EAST of the Mississippi River which it means it can’t even be considered in the West even the Brewers are in the National League Central Division. Heck, the last time New Orleans was considered to be in the West was about the time of the Louisiana Purchase. San Jose is definitely in the East, the East Bay….give me a break San Jose is like 25 miles if that from the Pacific Ocean. To further confuse the issue Providence and Spokane are also in the South Region.

Now what is this saying to the youth of America? I’ll tell you what it says…it says that the NCAA committee that put this mess together doesn’t know anything about geography. They are turning the minds of our young people into tapioca pudding (looks like gelified brains.) However, I am not unaware that the placement of games is not to be geographically correct but to make money.

In an attempt to be a “uniter” and not a divider I have a proposal. Instead of calling them regions we call them divisions and name them after great coaches such as John Wooden, Dean Smith and Bobby Knight that way any city can be in any division and geography would not matter. People could go wherever they want and not corrupt the minds of our young people. What’s next these kids will be driving willy-nilly all over the country trying to get some place that they have no idea where is. Think of the repercussions for UPS, FEDEX and the USPS…if these kids grow up and go a career in delivery industry we will never get anything.

Until the current system is replaced it will be simply madness….it’s madness I tell you…we’re going to have to set ludicrous speed…I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore…Joey, do you like movies about gladiators? Concentrate… concentrate… I’ve got to concentrate… concentrate… concentrate… Hello?… hello… hello… Echo… echo… echo… Pinch hitting for Pedro Borbon… Manny Mota… Mota… Mota… Joey, have you ever been in a… in a Turkish prison? It’s the same old story. Boy finds girl, boy loses girl, girl finds boy, boy forgets girl, boy remembers girl; girl dies in a tragic blimp accident over the Orange Bowl on New Year’s Day… Auntie Em, Uncle Henry, Toto! It’s a twister! It’s a twister! If this is Tuesday this must be Belgium…No, it’s not what you think. It’s much, much worse! … Would you like another schnitzengruben? …. Soylent Green is people, its people! …. Now I don’t have to tell you good folks what’s been happening in our beloved little town. Sheriff murdered, crops burned, stores looted, people stampeded, and cattle raped. The time has come to act, and act fast. I’m leaving….All right, you win. You win. I give. I’ll say it. I’ll say it. I’ll say it…. DESTINY! DESTINY! NO ESCAPING THAT FOR ME! DESTINY! DESTINY! NO ESCAPING THAT FOR ME! ….Oh, cut the bleeding heart crap, will ya? We’ve all got our switches, lights, and knobs to deal with, Striker. I mean, down here there are literally hundreds and thousands of blinking, beeping, and flashing lights, blinking and beeping and flashing – they’re *flashing* and they’re *beeping*. I can’t stand it anymore! They’re *blinking* and *beeping* and *flashing*! Why doesn’t somebody pull the plug! Serenity now!

Lots of Laughs to you,

Peace,

Padre Steve+

2 Comments

Filed under Just for fun, purely humorous

Tagged as bobby knight, dean smith, east regional, geogrpahy, history major, john wooden, louisana purchase, midwest regional, ncaa brackets, ncaa men's basketball tournament, ncaa tournament locations, sociopath, south regional, soylent green, west region

February 21, 2010 · 23:58

Oh the Pain…Padre Steve’s Kidney Stone Naming Contest

Getting set to pass the stone

Well I spent a good part of the last night and early this morning with the Abbess visiting my friends in the Naval Medical Center Portsmouth Emergency Room. I had been in pretty bad pain most of the day and even went with the Abbess to visit a retired chaplain friend and his wife as he has been a patient at our medic al center for the past week. As we visited I continued to be in pain and when we went home I had the Abbess drop me off at home while she went to Gordon Biersch. Anyone who knows me knows that I have to be feeling really bad not to go out and have a beer with the Abbess and or Stein Club friends on Saturday night. The Abbess was convinced when we left the hospital that I would be back but being that I have a rather high threshold for pain compared to most people as well as a typical career military man view of pain and illness I thought that I would feel better and ride it out. I did not expect a kidney stone and thinking it was something gastric went hope to vegetate and hope that with some chicken soup and some anti-gas meds that it would go away. Wrong answer padre…

As I sat on the couch trying to get comfortable with pain waxing and waning and Molly doing her best to “will” me into feeling better I continued to feel worse. The Abbess came home and pronounced that if I was still feeling this way at midnight we were going to the hospital whether I wanted to or not. At about 11 PM I cried uncle and she drove me to the hospital. Every freaking bump on the road was misery and when we got to the ER I got out of the car and limped into the ER. I could barely walk and was doubled over in pain, which when the triage nurse asked what level on a scale of 1 to 10 I said 5 to 6 because though it hurt it was not the worst pain that I have ever had which can only be reserved for the “undead tooth of terror.” (See Killing off the Undead Tooth of Terror)

One of the good things about playing on the home field is that people recognize you, of course for some this can be good or bad but thankfully for me it was good as I like the folks down in ER and the only thing that could make my affection for them be greater was if we were a trauma center. What can I say? I did my residency at Parkland Memorial Hospital as the Trauma and Surgery Department Chaplain and served as an ER Department Chaplain at another regional trauma center. None the less I know a good number of the staff, especially the ER residents as well as the surgery, internal medicine, psychiatry and other residents who see patients in the ER. Last night was only different in the fact that I was not making rounds or being called to the ER but was a patient, something that I have little patience at being.

After a relatively short but uncomfortable wait in the waiting room I was taken back to a bay with a curtain as a partition given a gown and put on a monitor which as I observed that my vital signs, despite my pain were very good. My conditioning program is paying off. I knew the ER attending, the RN and the Hospital Corpsmen that attended to me and other staff members who know me took time to visit. Dr Ventura told me that he thought that it was likely a kidney stone and both he and the RN asked me about the color of my urine which I compared to a cloudy Keller Beer or Hefe-Weizen. How else can you describe urine when it does not have the clarity or effervescence of a Pilsner? I was sent to get a CT scan which was pretty cool. CT’s have come a long way since my residency, what used to be a 20-30 minute procedure only took about 2-3 minutes and I didn’t even have to take my San Francisco Giants baseball hat off.

So anyway, after being discharged from the ER and saying good bye to all my friends we went up to get the myriad of drugs from our pharmacy including pain meds like Vicodin as well as meds to help the stone pass and other meds. I think the bag of meds weighed a couple of pounds. So since the Abbess was really worn out I drove us home which meant that I did not hit the rough spots in the road beacus I know where they are. After dropping her off and getting a sweet greeting from Molly I went over to our 24 hour super Wal-Mart and picked my way around the stockers to pick up a few things including the Minute Maid Lemonade that the staff told me would help me pass the stone.

Now kidney stones can take anywhere from 3 to 30 days to pass and if they don’t they may have to be removed. Approximately 80 percent of these stones contain calcium, as either calcium oxalate, calcium phosphate or a combination. Another 10 to 15 percent are composed of magnesium ammonium phosphate, s0metimes known as struvite, while only 5 to 10 percent are uric acid stones. Fewer than 1 percent of stones are cystine. Now for people like me this is interesting I don’t know too many people who laying on an ER bed think all the technical details of their illness.

Finally home I got to bed just before 0600 and got up just before noon. Since getting up I have eaten light and drank a lot of fluids, like tons of fluids and since I need to try to capture the stone have a wire mesh coffee filter with a little handle which makes it like a bucket to piss into. This will of course be consigned to oblivion once the stone is passed as there is no way, even with high tech sterilization gear available that anything that has had urine pass through it will ever be used to filter something that will pass through my lips. If you remember the Seinfeld where Jerry’s girlfriend’s toothbrush fell in the toilet you will understand completely.

So now I wait. I have been doing everything that I have been told to do but it seems that the stone has gone into hiding. I haven’t passed it but it is still in me. The choice for it is to come out on its own or be blasted into kidney stone oblivion or should either of those measures fail be surgically removed. I guess with choices like that I would prefer the natural birth even though it stands to be painful. I do hope and pray that that if this is the case that the stone will come out on the 4mm side and not the 7mm side, otherwise I will be like Kramer in the Seinfeld episode where he passes a kidney stone. I just hope when this happens I am nowhere near anyone whose life is depending on something. http://www.strimoo.com/video/13214541/kramer-gets-a-kidney-stone-Dailymotion.html

So my challenge now is to figure out what to name this. My friend Greg who is a Priest and Navy Chaplain says that I need to capture and keep it in case I am ever considered for canonization as a Saint. However I wonder who the hell would want that kind of relic but realize after visiting various diocesan museums in Europe I know that anything can wind up as a relic. So my question to my readers is what to name this stone. I am leading to Adolf since he was a pain to remove during the Second World War. Friends on Facebook have suggested other names and it will be interesting to see if any consensus builds as to what to name this bad boy. So feel free to comment here or on my Facebook page as what you think this stone should be named. Like the undead tooth of terror I will keep you apprised of this health issue as well as try to keep a humorous perspective on this. Again thanks to all my friends in the ER and blessings to all. Pray for me a sinner.

Peace,

Steve+

Post Script: While in the ER it came to me that the doctor who called me to the ER back in December to administer the last rites to a dying retired military doctor was Eric Inge. He was a key part of my Christmas miracle and I will not forget him, see

Doubt and Faith: My Crisis in Faith and Why I am Still a Christian an Advent Meditation

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Tagged as abby normal abbess, cononization, ct scans, e, gordon biersch, kidney stones, kramer, mergency room visits, parkland memorial hospital, portsmouth naval medical center, saint relics, seinfeld, stein club

February 19, 2010 · 21:03

Eins, zwei, drei g’suffa! Padre Steve Muses on German Beer

“Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.”
-Benjamin Franklin

“Not all chemicals are bad. Without chemicals such as hydrogen and oxygen, for example, there would be no way to make water, a vital ingredient in beer.”
-Dave Barry

From man’s sweat and God’s love, beer came into the world.

–Saint Arnold of Metz, The patron Saint of Brewers

I have lived in Germany a number of times and have a good number of German friends that I have served with either in the Army or the Navy that I am still in contact with. I have a love of good beer and my taste tends to gravitate toward German Pilsners and Lagers or an occasional Dunkel or Schwartzbier. I do have a fondness for a number of Irish beers and when overseas like Kilkenny which is finally just available in the US in a few locations. Hopefully it will be more available in the coming year. I also like an occasional English Ale such as Newcastle. Call me a beer snob but I find most mass produced American beers pretty substandard but I do like Sam Adams and Yuengling lager as well as some beers by some smaller brewers. I’m sorry but “light beer” scarcely qualifies as beer. I have to agree with the folks at the Capital Brewery in Middleton Wisconsin which says “People who drink light ‘beer’ don’t like the taste of beer; they just like to pee alot.” Life is too short for bad beer as was known back in medieval times in Danzig Germany where the town council made an edict stating: “Whoever makes a poor beer is transferred to the dung-hill.”

Alan Young, Master Brewer at Gordon Biersch Virginia Beach

In the US I also like a number of the more German type micro brews, especially Gordon Biersch where I am a member of the Virginia Beach Stein Club. I like Biersch a lot and since I know the master brewer Alan Young at the Virginia Beach location know that the beer is prepared to the German beer purity standards and that the hops used in the beer actually come from Bamberg Germany. However, today is not so much about the Biersch beer, which I will write about in detail in the near future.

Today is a day where I talk about Germany and German beer. When we first went to Germany in 1984 we lived in a tiny little town in the Saarland named Eckelhausen and I was assigned to the 557^th Medical Company (Ambulance) which was based at Neubrücke, just over the Saarland and Rheinland-Pfalz state border. These are little towns, Neubrücke is a few kilometers from Birkenfeld and Eckelhausen is in Kreis Sankt Wendel.

The nearest large city is Trier on the German-Luxembourg border. When we were stationed there the local beers severed at the local restaurants were primarily pilsners. Some of those more local beers included Kirner Pils from the town of Kirn on the Nahe River, Barbarossa Braü from Kaiserslautern and Bitburger Pils from Bitburg. Bitburg has become much more than a local beer and can be found throughout Germany and around the world.

The 557^th was moved to Wiesbaden in November of 1984 and this led us to other beers including Binding Bräuerei and their Römer Pils and Henninger Pils. Some of the beers from Hessen were very nice including Licher Pils from the town of Lich northeast of Frankfurt. This brewery also produces an “export” as well as a Weizen. It is advertised as the “number one beer in Hessen.”

Well we came back to the states just after Christmas of 1986 and suffered for years without a lot of German beer available in Texas and later West Virginia. However, in 1996 I was mobilized from the Army Reserve to serve in Germany supporting Operation Joint Endeavor, the mission to help end the conflict between Serbia, Croatia and Bosnia-Herzegovina. I was stationed with the 417^th Base Support Battalion in Kitzingen but had significant duties at the Würzburg Army Hospital and the 4th Battalion 3rd Air Defense Artillery.

I lived in Würzburg and commuted to Kitzingen and in my time in this area which is in the state of Bayern but historically is the capital of Franken. Of course I always gravitate toward pilsners or lagers and in Würzburg I came across a very old and good beer in Würzburger Pils. I also was able to have more access to other Bavarian beers including Bamberger Pils, St Georgen Kellerbrau, Reichelbräu Pils , Spaten and Löwenbräu as well as beers from just outside the area to include Michaelsbräu of Babenhausen and Braugold which I had in Weimar.

I have travelled elsewhere in Germany I have encountered many other beers. I do prefer the beers from the more southern and central parts of the country than those of the north. Probably the most unique beer I had was not so much to the quality or taste was Wittenburger Luther Beer which I came home with a stein which reads “Zum Gedenken an den bedeutendsten Wittenburger Luther Bier “ein kannlein bir gegen den teufel ihndamit zu verachten” or “To commemorate the most important, Wittenburger Luther Beer, a mug of beer against the devil is to despise him.”

So the Germans have taught me well. I only drink good beer and I think that it is something to be savored and not abused. I like the way that the Germans do life, unlike others who revel being Puritans, the Germans have balance in life. Unlike some of the lack of “fun-dementalists” that I have met and spend their time reveling in the misery of their condition I totally agree with Luther when he said:

“God does not forbid you to drink, as do the Turks; he permits you to drink wine and beer: he does not make a law of it. But do not make a pig of yourself; remain a human being. If you are a human being, then keep your human self-control.”

And since I am not as young as I used to be: “We old folks have to find our cushions and pillows in our tankards. Strong beer is the milk of the old.”

Amen and peace,

Padre Steve+

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Tagged as 4/3 ada, 417th base support bn, 557th medical company, bamberer pils, bamberg, barbarossa brau, beer, benjamin franklin, binding brauerei, binding pilsner, birkenfeld, bitburger pils, capital brewery middleton wi, dave barry, dunkel beer, eckelhausen germany, german beer, germany, gordon biersch, henniger pils, hessen, kilkenny beer, kirner pils, kitzingen, lagers, licher export, licher pils, licher weizen, lowenbrau, luther beer, michaelsbrau babbenhausen, neubrucke, newcastle ale, operation joint endeavor, pilsners, reichelbrau pilsner, rheinland-pfalz, saarland, schwartzbier, spaten pils amd export, st arnold of metz, st georgen keller brau, stein club, trier, weizen, wiesbaden, wittenburg, wurzburg, wurzburg army hopsital, wurzburger hofbrau pilsner

January 31, 2010 · 23:59

The Great Hampton Roads Snowstorm of 2010 and Groundhog Day

Well it’s only the 31^st of January but in about 29 hours it will be Groundhog Day back here on the East Coast. We survived the great snow storm of 2010 here in Hampton Roads I measured 8-9 inches in my yard. Now if we lived in a locale that actually was prepared for winter weather this wouldn’t be too bad…unfortunately since this is about a once a decade kind of event the region is woefully prepared for real winter weather. First there isn’t enough snow removal equipment in the local cities, thus once the roads get funky there is no way to clear them. Crews are working hard but Virginia Beach only has 36 trucks and there are hundreds of miles of primary roads in the cast expanse of the city, not counting important secondary roads.

Knowing this I was prudent and planned not to get out over the weekend and we stocked up on about all we would need and picked up a few items to make life easier like salt, kitty litter and a good flat blade shovel. Likewise when we went to Gordon Biersch on Friday before the storm began I picked up a “growler” each of Czech Pilsner and Märzen in order to have proper sustenance which was a good move because for once the weather guessers got the forecast right much to the disbelief of some. However as a weather junkie and had my college had a meteorology degree plan I might have taken it, I actually like about everything I do look at statistics, probabilities and as much hard data as I can when a major storm is said to be heading my direction.

So anyway we got hammered with a real winter storm in Hampton Roads and since we know that a large amount of the population of our fair regain can’t drive nails we elected to stay off of the roads Saturday. Thus the Abbess and I after having worked about the house and relaxed at home watching DVD movies such as In Harm’s Way, M*A*S*H and the Big Lebaowski while nursing the “growlers” of the Czech Pilsner and Märzen. Finished the evening watching Death Becomes Her on HBO. Meanwhile I prepared nothing that could not be cooked in the microwave or poured from a box into a bowl. Finally this afternoon we got out for a couple of hours and had enjoyable time with our friends at Gordon Biersch.

One of the more interesting parts of the weekend was watching the reaction of Molly to the snow. She didn’t care for it too much when it was coming down but today with the sun out she spent time outside looking for trouble but fortunately for us not finding any. She has made a path around the fence line and since she is rather smart has figured that she doesn’t need to make a new path every time she goes outside. She now uses the path that she blazed for herself first thing this morning.

The Gordon Biersch Stein Club Faithful

So I get to head in to work as I have duty tomorrow. The medical center like the rest of the Navy facilities here has only essential personnel reporting so things look to be pretty sparse with no clinics open. So I will get to hang out with folks I know and pray that things are relatively uneventful. I do expect that the drive in to work could be a bit sporting so I will definitely take it slow and easy. Thankfully I a pretty good at winter driving thanks to winters in Germany, West Virginia and Pennsylvania.

Since Tuesday is Groundhog Day I watched that movie this evening. This is one of my favorite movies, something about the twisted outlook of it that cracks me up. Of course back in my days at the Army Chaplain Officer Advanced Course at Fort Monmouth New Jersey, the students referred to it as “Groundhog Day.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eZbtAFq7dP8&feature=PlayList&p=1B0A88D7AB1399B9&index=28 One morning and I kid you not I was woken to the sound of “I Got You Babe” on the clock radio in my BOQ room. That was eerie. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K_VKuivXAYshttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K_VKuivXAYs

Groundhog Day at Al Asad Air Terminal

Now I don’t know about you but I have had jobs or assignments where I really did think that I was living “Groundhog Day” however I did not ever steal the groundhog. However, as I watch the movie I can imagine myself doing the same kinds of things that Bill Murray’s character did. I may be a Priest but unfortunately I am simply and incorrigible miscreant which can be seen in some of my previous posts, especially How Padre Steve Got His Driver’s License, Passed Geometry, Escaped Advanced Algebra and Selects Mood Music for a Book Burning so I can’t be on the fast track for canonization but life is fun.

So anyway when I come home from work sometime on Groundhog Day I will be back.

Peace,

Padre Steve+

Laughing to the Music: The Musical Genius of Mel Brooks

The Zany Mel Brooks as the Governor in Blazing Saddles

When most people think of legendary comedian Mel Brooks they are likely to think of the hilarious shtick of such movies as Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein and Spaceballs, the Movie, DVD or Video. Brooks is a comic genius but mixed in with the comedic side of Brooks he has a musical side that captures some of the most popular genres of yesteryear and overlays them with incredibly witty lyrics and catchy music. Whether the music is Broadway musical, crooning, or even something out of the old west brooks brings a comedic edginess that can offend and delight at the same time. Today I will share a bit about the songs and soundtracks from the various Brooks films interspersed with the songs from the films.

Teri Garr, Gene Wilder and Marty Feldman in Young Frankenstein

Now I know that some people will say and rightly so that I am just a bit warped in my worldview. I’m okay with that, in fact I would hate not to be as I think that life would be boring. Maybe that is why I like Brooks so much. He demonstrates that rare form of being able to entertain and even provide social commentary on issues like racism and discrimination in Blazing Saddles. Part of how he did this so successfully was in the music that he often wrote for his movies. It is one of those unusual things that most people, even Brooks aficionados have no idea that Brooks was the genius behind the music in his movies.

As for me I love Brooks’ music as well as his comedy. I can practically sing from memory the major songs of each of his movies and frequently will find that I am inadvertently singing them going down a hallway at work or in the car. Some Priests sing hymns or praise and worship songs, I sing Mel Brooks songs. C’est la vie.

Springtime for Hitler 1968

The first film that Brooks music featured prominently was the original The Producers starring Zero Mostel, Gene Wilder and Dick Shawn which was reprised on Broadway and later on the big screen with Nathan Lane, Matthew Modine and Will Ferrell. The original Producers involved a Broadway producer who has seen better days (Mostel) and his new tax accountant (Wilder) trying to find the “world’s worst play” to produce as a flop which they would then keep the money raised for the play. They find their play written by former German Soldier Franz Liebkind the author of Springtime for Hitler “a gay romp with Adolph and Eva at Berchesgarten.” They hire the world’s worst director “Roger DeBris” to direct the play and raise a huge amount of money to produce it by selling well far more than 100% of the profits. Expecting the play to offend everyone they begin an early celebration before finding out that people love the play. The play becomes a critically acclaimed hit leading them to try to blow up the theater. The music of Brooks is prominently featured in all three. The irony of producers producing a guaranteed flop which becomes a hot on the big screen and then a real hit on Broadway is not to be lost. The theme song from the play Springtime for Hitler both in 1968 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZGp0hCxSg98 and the later version http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WCUfkMkVbwo also found its way into Blazing Saddles.

Springtime for Hitler 2005

As an interesting side note Brooks has a cameo during the song in both versions where as a member of the cast he sings “Don’t be stupid, be a smarty come and join the Nazi Party.” The Producers also featured more Brooks’ songs including Love Power sung by Dick Shawn playing Lorenzo St. Dubois or LSD http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BkYBJId7WZs Prisoners of Love featured in both the 1968 and the 2005 versions and When You Got it Flaunt it, I Want to Be a Producer and Keep it Gay all from the 2005 version are classic show tunes.

Cleavon Little and Gene Wilder as Sheriff Bart and the Waco Kid in Blazing Saddles

The Producer’s netted Brooks an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay. Brooks’ next two hit films Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein both featured interesting musical arrangements, The most memorable coming from Blazing Saddles which starred Cleavon Little, Gene Wilder, Harvey Korman and Madeline Kahn. The songs Blazing Saddles http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7tyhpt6_pwc the Ballad of Rock Ridge http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WiTKIbR69ss

Madeline Kahn as Lilly Von Schtupp singing “I’m Tired”

I’m Tired http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQU0_PHUB2E and the French Mistake featuring Dom DeLuise http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JMK6lzmSk2o are all Brooks’ work.

The French Mistake Musical Scene from Blazing Saddles

He even managed to take an old tune into Young Frankenstein where Gene Wilder and Peter Boyle as Dr Frankenstein and the monster perform Puttin’ on the Ritz http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VH2nQHPs4aA.

Dr Frankenstein and the Monster (Wilder and Peter Boyle) singing “Puttin’ on the Ritz”

Brook’s next film’s High Anxiety, a takeoff on Hitchcock movies starring Brooks, Harvey Korman, Madeline Kahn and Cloris Leachman feature Brooks’ songs High Anxiety http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ki_UcRmELvs and If You Love Me Tell Me Loud. History of the World Part I which starred Brooks, Kahn, Korman and a host of comic greats would incorporate music is ways undreamed of by those who viewed these films.

The Inquisition from History of the World Part One

In fact the musical segment The Spanish Inquisition featured the song The Inquisition http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oppHeMlaLVM where Brooks plays the Spanish Inquisitor Torquemada in a spoof of the 1930s musical featuring dancing monks in wink tips, nuns who perform a synchronized swimming number as well as banter between Brooks and the various Jews and heretics that he is trying to convert. The irony of course being that Brooks is Jewish. The closing song Jews in Space http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_jLnrUXJNM is the trailer for a sequel which was never produced. In Spaceballs Brooks collaborated with others to produce the title song Spaceballs http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ezyoKr0v-HQ which was performed by The Spinners.

Men in Tights

Brooks would continue making movies which though not as popular brilliant as his earlier works would feature some funny songs written by Brooks. Robin Hood: Men in Tights featured Men in Tights http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pc1am3KyYgA , Marian and the Sherwood Forrest Rap http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=APTXBm5Zp-Y The 1983 film To Be or Not to Be in which Brooks starred with his wife Anne Bancroft was about the Nazi invasion of Poland featured the Brooks songs A Little Peace and Ladies. A music video for this film entitled The Hitler Rap http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yu2NqfISm9k was released as part of the promotion for the film.

Hitler as a polish Jew playing Hitler in a Parody in pre-War Warsaw in To Be or Not to Be

I don’t know that we will ever see a comedic genius who is able to also incorporate music, especially classic Broadway style show tunes in about every movie that they make. Brooks in my mind is one of those once in a blue moon kind of entertainers whose creativity is not bound by words or gags but crafted through a diverse experience of live performance, film, writing and producing taking comedy to places where his edginess and occasional social commentary was heard and appreciated by middle America. That is the genius of Mel Brooks.

Peace,

Padre Steve+

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Tagged as anne bancroft, blazing saddles, cleavon little, dick shawn, dom deluise, gene wilder, harvey korman, high anxeity (song), high anxiety, history of the world part one, hitler, i'm tired, jews in space, love power (song), madaline kahn, marty feldman, matthew modine, mel brooks, men in tights (song), nathan lane, peter boyle, pottin' on the ritz, robin hood men in tights, sherwood forrest rap (song), spaceballs, springtime for hitler, teri garr, the ballad of rock ridge, the french mistake, the hitler rap, the inquisition (song), the spinners, to be or not to be, will ferrell, young frankenstein, zero mostel

January 15, 2010 · 21:31

X-Files and Wiener Dog attempts at World Domination

Note to readers: This is a revision of a very early post on this site which I think that you will enjoy.

Frieda as a puppy in 1984

Author’s note: The term “Little Shit” in reference to a Wiener Dog is one which may offend some people who have not been owned by one. However, as a descriptive term there is little better to describe them and I do not use the term lightly but with great care. Those of us who have spent our lives owned by them and who have struggled against them also mean it as a term of endearment. Thus by using the term I mean no offense to the unenlightened, or those who have sweet sensitive and obedient dogs who cannot comprehend the duality of good and evil that lies in the heart of a Dachshund. However, as we who know and love them understand deep in our hearts these little shits are to be treasured each in their own way. All artwork done by the Abbess of the Abby Normal see her site at

http://abbeynormalabbess.wordpress.com/
Wiener Dogs, sometimes known as Dachshunds are among the most peculiar animals. Their long and low silhouette is distinctive and if you see one of them walking their owner you cannot miss the particular gait of their walk and manner in which their tail is carried behind them as they alertly look for whatever trouble that they can avail themselves of you know that trouble is on the way.

A cocky Frieda in the Grass with one of her stolen tennis balls

Almost anyone who has been owned by a Dachshund can tell you stories of how these little shits manage to do things that, well….to put it mildly will certainly convince you of the existence of purgatory. You will become a believer as they will make your life Purgatory for the 12-16 years or more that they will own you. Sorry Protestants who don’t believe, if you aren’t owned by one here there will be one in Purgatory named Frieda, who at one time for 16 years exacted her own sweet form of purgatory in our little household. I am convinced that God that the Devil have worked out a deal to let Frieda to run your life in Purgatory until you get straightened out enough to get to heaven. After all, Purgatory is, like my home of record, West Virginia, Almost Heaven.

Greta or Poo as a puppy

The Abbess and I have had these little wonders for oh… the last 25 years or so. We have grown attached to them, much as hostages attach to their terrorist captors in the Stockholm syndrome. We are convinced John, no I’m not having fun, Calvin had a Wiener Dog. We would like to believe that JC’s was a Wire Hair, although I don’t think that the Wire Hair was around quite by JC’s time. However, that being said and despite the influence of the Augustinian understanding of predestination which certainly helped form Calvin’s theology I am absolutely certain that Calvin had to have one of these little shits to come up with the doctrine of Total Depravity. There is no question in my Anglo-Catholic mind of this fact. Likewise, I’m sure that the Deity Herself will confirm this someday and that perhaps John Calvin himself will thank me for bringing this up as we warm up on heaven’s lush green outfield.

For those of you who don’t believe, all you need to do is look at the first chapter of the original edition of James Dobson’s book The Strong Willed Child. Even Dobson cannot escape a power fight with his Wiener Dog named Max. Dobson reports a physical fight that he had with Max and but I am certain that this could not have been an isolated incident as no self respecting Dachshund would ever let being physically subdued one time keep them from their nefarious power seeking ways.

Greta at about the age of 10 in West Virginia, not a skinny dog

For us we had Frieda, a beautiful classic Wire Hair Dackel (what the Germans call them) from deep in Bayern (Bavaria). Frieda took ownership of us on Christmas Eve 1984 beginning a 16 year reign of terror. Four years later we came across Greta, a fat little red Dachshund from San Antonio who we got in 1988. Greta who we affectionately called Greta-Poo which I shortened to just Poo did not rule as Frieda did but instead was a consummate thief no garbage can even ones protected by pantry doors was safe as long as she was around. If we made the mistake of leaving food anywhere that she could get it would be gone if we turned our backs or did not constantly threaten her. The funniest incident of the Poo’s thievery was when we lived in Texas and had a number of friends over, as was our custom to eat pizza and watch Star Trek the Next Generation. We made a fatal mistake. A major thunderstorm and cloudburst created a bit of a stir and we all went out into the apartment’s breezeway to see the rain and hail come down. There was one very large piece of pizza, if I recall with everything on it including jalapeno peppers on the pizza pan on the coffee table. Poo could not resist and grabbed the piece of pizza dragging it under the table. When we came back in we saw her with the pizza in her mouth and at the same time she saw us. It was as if she started to shove the pizza in her mouth with both paws when she saw us. The Abbess looked at her and simply said “Dog it’s yours” as we all laughed. The little shit ate the whole thing jalapeños and all. She would continue her thievery until the last few months of her life when confined to a Dachshund “wheelchair” due to back problems.

Molly on “her” couch

We Finally we have our current little shit and mischlinge (mixed) Long Hair Dachshund-Papillion and defender of the realm, Molly, in 2001 after we lost Frieda at the age of 16 ½. Molly still acts like a puppy at 8. Molly though a mixed breed flips from being the happy and obedient Papillion to the obnoxious and stubborn Wiener Dog in nothing flat

Looking for Squirrel

It is if there is some sort of hypostatic union going on with Molly fully Dachshund and fully Papillion. There is no in between setting for her, she goes from the good side of the Force to the Dark side at a moment’s notice. Sometimes I think that she is channeling Frieda when this happens. Though they never met, they are somewhat kindred spirits. Molly is not nearly as extreme as Frieda and we can thank heaven for that, but back to Frieda, or as she was oft known “the Queen.”

We spent 16 plus years in a constant power fight with Frieda. The term “little shit” applied to Frieda is a misnomer. The Queen weighed in at 28 pounds and had teeth and jaws like a German shepherd. Patently the little shits in Germany are bred to hunt badgers and foxes. They are incredibly strong and have an attitude just this side of a Klingon in a bad mood. Most dogs, once you have established dominance as the “Alpha Dog” in your little pack accept their place. Not Wiener Dogs, especially Frieda. She spent 16 years trying to force us into doing what she wanted be it through passive or aggressive means. If you have ever seen the Peter Sellers movie The Pink Panther Strikes Again where Inspector Cleauseau visits Oktoberfest and gets a room at a small hotel, you will see what I am referring to here. The good inspector sees a dog lying on the floor near the front desk. He asks the desk clerk if his dog bites. The clerk replies no and Cleauseau reaches to pet the dog which then attacks him. Cleauseau yells at the desk clerk “I thought you said your dog did not bite.” To which the clerk replied; “that’s not my dog.” The dog in the movie is a Wire Hair, who looks just like Frieda in her early years. This was our life for 16 years.

http://www.kontraband.com/videos/19428/Does-Your-Dog-Bite/

Although both Greta, as we affectionately called her Poo had her moments, and Molly like I said sometimes channels Frieda. Frieda was unique. From what I hear from others owned by Wire Hair Dachshunds that some of what she did are common to all of these miscreant creatures. I can’t go into too many details and like John the Evangelist I would have to say that there are many more things that Frieda did which cannot be contained in this one essay but I shall endeavor to mention a few.

Frieda was a liar. I know that sounds harsh because many people have a notion that dog’s don’t lie. This pattern of obfuscation began early in her life when as a puppy in Germany she would try to fake the Abbess out about by to urinate in the yard. She knew that if she went outside and did her business that she would be rewarded. Rapidly catching on the little shit began to do “touch and goes’ faking the pee and hoping to still get a reward. One day the Abbess noticed this and thus began an intricate dance of death with the little shit attempting to fool us, and us trying to catch her. This usually involved looking to make sure that there was wetness where wetness should be on a female dog after they urinate. If there was no wetness Frieda would not get her reward. Likewise, Frieda lied about other things. When she did something that she shouldn’t and you discovered it she could act more innocent than a Nazi at the Nurnberg Trials. “What? Me? Do something wrong, I was in the Hofbrauhaus while the others we making those decisions.” If you decided to push the issue she became 28 pounds of razor blades. Actually it was more like a Sherman tank blundering into an ambush by a Wehrmacht Jagdpanther with the long 88. Not a fun, often violent and sometimes bloody. I think that the Abbess and I still have scars from some of these encounters.

Frieda lied in other ways, occasionally we would catch her. Once while living in Texas we left home to take a blind friend to the store. This was just before Christmas and the Abbess had just made an ass-load of cookies. We had not planned this trip and when our friend called we left the apartment rather quickly. When we got to our friends’ house we were struck by a terrible thought, the cookies were in striking distance of Frieda and Poo. Reacting quickly I asked our friend for his phone. This of course was back in the dark ages before cell phones were affordable to the average person. Calling my house I waited for my version of Bill Clinton’s voice to play through the message on the machine and as soon as the “beep” signaled that I was live I began to talk. “Dammit, get away from the cookies now! I’m coming home and if I catch you you’re both dead!” Slamming the phone down I ran to the car and raced the 5 miles back to our apartment. As I rushed the door I noticed that indeed to cookies had been pilfered, however the dogs were nowhere to be found. Looking around I found Poo cowering in the bedroom and Frieda hiding behind the toilet. I can only imagine the looks on their faces when my voice called them out in the middle of the crime.

Frieda galring at us after surgery to remove a tumor on her tail at the age of ten

Frieda liked to play dead. I mean play dead enough to make that you think that she was dead. She would be on her back, eyes fixed forward and unblinking, chest not moving. She would do this until we or her various puppy sitters were screaming “Oh may God she’s dead!” When she was happy the little shit would wag the very tip of her tail as if to say gotcha!

If you asked if she knew about the ripped up clothing, eaten socks, opened child proof medicine bottles her eyes would turn to steel. Molly can do this too when caught. Thankfully she is only half of Frieda’s weight and not as heavily armed. She also being a mischlinge has to fight her inner Papillion urge to please, something that Frieda did not have to contend with being fully in tune with the Dark Side of the Force.

Now our experiences with Frieda did not end when the little shit died. I was deployed in the Far East when after going into renal failure and refusing treatment; yes she stopped cooperating and would not eat the special kidney diet. The Abbess tells me that when the vet told her to fry some of the food with some with a bit of oregano to tempt her to eat it. The Abbess knew that this was hopeless but did so anyway. She describes the look that Frieda gave her that night as “Damn you and the horse that you rode in on.”

Well after Frieda passed into the great beyond the saga did not end. As I mentioned I was in the Far East when she went to be with whomever she went to be, most likely whoever made her the best offer, she would have sold us down the river if she had been given the chance in life. One night the Abbess was asleep and felt a familiar presence, Frieda had come into the room dragging a blue robe that the Abbess had never seen before, got into bed with her and as she petted Frieda she noticed that the bumps, warts and other skin flaws that had marred Frieda in life, which we think might have been in part due to exposure to Chernobyl radiation in Germany were no longer there. Her skin was smooth as she held Frieda the Queen disappeared. Unknown to the Abbess on the far side of the world I had bought her a blue robe in Korea and would the same day as the Abbess receive a visit from the Queen. When we told each other of our experiences we were both shocked. It was beyond weird and certainly X-File material.

Molly in the snow

As I said before the stories about Frieda could fill volumes as could those about the Poo and Molly. Those who knew Frieda can attest to these and many other nearly unbelievable stories. Maybe she was an X-File. I don’t know, but if so she was our X-File and we loved the little shit, we still miss her. One thing that we know for sure, always let lying dogs sleep.

Now we have Molly who on occasion assists in the writing of essays on this site.

Peace, Steve+

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Filed under dachshunds, purely humorous

Tagged as dachshunds, frieda, greta, inspector clouseau, molly, papillions, the pink panther strikes again, wiener dogs, wire hair dachshunds

January 1, 2010 · 23:24

New Year’s Resolutions: Is the Resolution Resolutionable?

Let’s Make New Years’s Resolutions Resolutionable the Year!

One of the traditions common with the advent of a new year is the resolution. Typically people will resolve to do something different to improve their lives, such as losing weight, starting an exercise program getting out of debt, having a child, getting a better job, having cosmetic surgery, finding a new love, ditching their old love, founding a new religion and fleecing the flock and a million other laudable goals. The key question that one must ask when making a resolution is “Is the stupid thing resolutionable?“

You probably are asking “just what the hell is resolutionable?” Well, I figured that and here is Padre Steve’s test of what is a “resolutionable New Year’s Resolution.” Resolutionable to put in the vernacular is simply a combination of various factors to see if a resolution has a bat’s chance in hell of succeeding.

Question One: The first question that you have to ask yourself is “Will this be good for me?” If yes give yourself 5 points. If the answer is no subtract 10 points immediately and ask yourself if you are merely stupid or have forgotten to take your anti-psychotic meds. Obviously if it is not good for you it is not wise. However it is a free country so no one can stop you from being an idiot unless they get a court order which is unlikely. Since you are free to do something bad for you and because it is a free country you can continue to take the test to see if you can recover.

Score for this Question: _______

Question two: Is it reasonably attainable? Is it something that a reasonable person maybe even a coldly logical dispassionate and neutral observer would agree with you is attainable. Frequently such people are either known as Vulcans or Assholes, on earth most are the latter, but they can be counted on to tell the truth. For example, you resolve to lose weight. You weigh 200 pounds, your ideal weight is 180 and you have no health conditions that would harm you if you attempt to lose the weight. If so a coldly logical, dispassionate person would probably say that this is reasonable. Now conversely if you weigh 900 pounds and have to have Dick Gregory talk you into having a construction crew knock a hole in your apartment wall to have a crew of firemen with a forklift get you out and want to lose weight, any weight it is unlikely that you will succeed and that it is an unattainable goal unless a plastic surgeon takes a shop vacuum to you. If it is reasonably attainable give yourself 5 points. If not give yourself nothing, nothing ventured nothing lost. I hope that wasn’t too harsh.

Score for this Question: _______

Question Three: Does success depend on someone else helping you? If “yes” subtract 5 points as most people are unreliable, get over it. If “no” give yourself 10 points because you are at least trying to take control of your destiny. If you are depending on God to make it happen for you subtract 10 points because regardless of what you answered before. Nothing against God, I’m work for him and am a big fan, but you want a miracle and those are rare. Try Miracle Whip instead. To be resolutionable you have to be doing the work, otherwise it’s like cheating.

Score for this Question: ________

Question Four: Will it cost money or involve significant amounts of time? If it does there is a decent chance that you might actually follow through on it especially if it is a decent chunk of change and not tied up in some crappy piece of exercise gear. If it does not cost money there is a decent chance that you won’t follow through on it, after all you have made no investment in it and have little motivation, unless your career, a significant relationship or life is at stake. If the answer is yes give yourself 5 points. If the answer is “no” and your career, significant relationship or life is not at stake you get nothing. If your career, significant relationship or life is at stake give yourself 5 points. If it costs a significant chunk of change or a significant threat to your career, significant relationship or life is at stake give yourself 10 points. There is nothing like necessity to motivate you to actually stay with the program.

Score for this question: _______

Question 5: Will doing this benefit others? If it will give yourself 5 charity points, if not take nothing, if it will hurt someone and you know it subtract 50 points because you are probably going to Hell for even entertaining such an idea.

Score for this Question: ______

Now add your points.

If you score 25 or higher your resolution is definitely resolutionable and should by all means be pursued.

If you got greater than 15 but less than 25 your resolution might be resolutionable and has a chance even if not the greatest.

If you got more than 5 but fewer than 15 points you might want to think about another resolution.

If you got less than 5 and since no question is worth less than 5 points you got 0, unless of course you got a bunch of those negative points. Such resolutions are bound to fail so try something use.

So this year I am going to resolve to lose 20 pounds.

Will this be good for me? Yes. Score 5 points.

Is this reasonable? Yes since I gained 25 pounds over the summer I should be able to do this. It will happen because I am no longer eating 4-6 Krispy Kreme hot and fresh glazed doughnuts every night before bed and have no underlying medical problems eating health while engaged in a regular program of exercise this is reasonable. Score 5 more for Padre Steve.

Does it depend on anyone else? Nope, Score 10 more for Padre Steve.

Does it involve a substantial amount of money or time? Lots of time and as we all know time is money so score 5. I get added points because if I don’t it could mess up by career and I have two much to lose by not losing the weight. Score 10 more for Padre Steve.

Finally will it benefit others? Yes maybe not as much as me, but it will at least indirectly help others. Since I’m not greedy I won’t take the 5 charity points.

Padre Steve’s score: 35 which means that this New Year’s Resolution is resolutionable. See how easy that was? Using this simple test we can all determine the likelihood of a New Year’s resolution succeeding, which if we bother to actually make one is the point right? So let’s all resolve to make resolutionable New Year’s resolutions this year.

Now I know this isn’t the most pastoral carily way of putting this, but hey, whatever works right? Have a wonderful New Year.

Peace

Padre Steve+

The Feast of Stephen the Second Day of Christmas and the Octave of Christmas et al

Saint Stephen being Crushed by Heavy Stones

December 26^th in the liturgical calendar is the Feast of Stephen, or Saint Stephen, to some better known to his friends as “Steve.” Steve was one of the first seven men ordained by the Apostles as a Deacon. He gets a significant amount of press in the book of acts which includes the account of his sermon before he got stoned, not like in dope kind of stoned but as in crushed by heavy stones. Steve is known as the “proto-martyr” a fancy word for getting whacked for his faith before the other martyrs of the New Testament and the nearly 2000 years following. As a high school student in the 1970s I already was well acquainted with Stephen when I first attended a Conservative Baptist Sunday school class for the first time. This was back in the fall of 1975 and when asked to introduce myself I quipped “My name is Stephen and I got stoned.” This went over like a showing a Cheech and Chong movie to the Women’s Missionary Society. Of course I was a innocent of such things and too this day have never had any illicit drugs and while I have been a bit in the inebriated status I can never say that I have been stoned, even when put on Vicodin for the Undead Tooth of Terror.

The Feast of Steve is the second day in the twelve day “octave of Christmas.” Even if you know nothing about the liturgical calendar you probably heard the carol the “Twelve Days of Christmas.” Likewise you may have heard the traditional English Carol “Good King Wenceslas” a King from Prague who happened to go out peasant hunting, or rather out looking to give alms to peasants and beggars. Either way you may have heard of this feast or the Octave of Christmas.

The Good King Wenceslas

The Octave of Christmas begins on Christmas day and lasts until January 6^th, in the West the Feast of the Epiphany but in the East the Orthodox Christmas. Thus we have the 12 days of Christmas in which time we hear about pipers milking maids listening to a bunch of infernal drummers while a bunch of pompous “lords” are leaping through gold rings held by more birds than you can shake a stick at and it’s not even hunting season. However, the song, which allegedly according to legend has secret meanings probably related to the Illuminati or at the minimum a worldwide conspiracy to promote some kind of decadent lifestyle. The actual twelve days of Christmas are a time of celebration which includes days dedicated to time off for peasants, celebration of the Incarnation and days honoring various saints, including the aforementioned Saint Steve. You might ask about other days within the Octave of Christmas which honor various saints….well I’m waiting…..

Yes I see that had. You want to know what other days in the Christmas Octave are named for saints. Well, as I said we have the 26^th which is in honor of Saint Steve. The 27^th is the Feast Day of Saint John the Evangelist who penned the verse John 3:16 which used to be held up in the end zones of football games by some guy in a rainbow afro hairdo. The 28^th is the feast of the Holy Innocents which is dedicated to the children of Bethlehem killed by King Herod in the attempt to kill Jesus after his birth. The 30^h is that of Saint Thomas Beckett, and the 31^st of December is that of Sylvester, an early Pope, not the cat who starred alongside Tweedy Bird. January 1^st is that of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God in the Roman calendar and the Feast of the Holy Name of Jesus in the Anglican calendar. The 2^nd is the feast of Saints Basil the Great and Gregory Nazianzen, Bishops and Doctors of the Church. In the Roman calendar the 3^rd is dedicated to Most Holy Name of Jesus. There are some variations in the observations, for example Anglicans in England celebrate John Wycliffe the Bible translator on the 31^st and the Naming and Circumcision of Jesus on the 1st of January, to which I understand the villiage Mohel gets an honorary invitation to attend. The Anglicans celebrate the Russian Monk Saint Saraphim of Sarov on the 2^nd of January. Episcopalians ironically celebrate the life of Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton the first American Roman Catholic Saint who before she was Roman had been an Episcopalian on the 4^th of January. Anyway…you asked.

Padre Steve’s Namesake: Steve McQueen

So, today was the celebration of Saint Steve, the Patron Saint of Padre Steve, aka me. Now my parents had no early idea about the liturgical calendar, if they had my name would be Rupert which I would have changed at the earliest opportunity had it been inflicted on me. Rupert whose feast is March 27^thwas the bishop of Salzburg Austria where the hills really are alive. Since I am sure that they did not name me after Saint Steve I presume that mercifully in order not to inflict me with one of the family names that are as bad as or worse than Rupert named me after the actor Steve McQueen. It was lucky for me that they did as like Stewie Griffin I would have to have plotted their demise as an infant. That would not have been pretty but I am sure that since I reportedly had a football shaped head for a while that I could have made this happen.

So have a blessed Octave of Christmas and be safe.

Peace,

Padre Steve+

Category Archives: purely humorous

Meeting Jesus and the Team at 7-11

And it’s One, Two Three Wives You’re out….Memories Residency at Parkland Memorial Hospital ER

Why Johnny Can’t Read Maps: NCAA Tournament Geography for Dummies and a Solution

Oh the Pain…Padre Steve’s Kidney Stone Naming Contest

Eins, zwei, drei g’suffa! Padre Steve Muses on German Beer

The Great Hampton Roads Snowstorm of 2010 and Groundhog Day

Laughing to the Music: The Musical Genius of Mel Brooks

X-Files and Wiener Dog attempts at World Domination

New Year’s Resolutions: Is the Resolution Resolutionable?

The Feast of Stephen the Second Day of Christmas and the Octave of Christmas et al

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