Why We do It Better (Rerun: 07 Jan. 06)

It's time for all good little boys and girls to be grateful and reflect on the next few weeks of holiday fun and cheer. Here it is... my top 5 reasons to celebrate Christmas in the States (or the 'U.S.' for those opposed to 'the States.' You know who you are.):

#5... Better Christmas carols, we've got enough holly, jolly tunes to keep the whole family singing from noon until night fall. Hey, who took frosty's nose???

#4... Let's face it, where else is it legal, let alone cute and adorable, to actually steal Christmas? Wow, those children's authors just get better and better each and every year, eh? You know it's times like these when I'm glad that they're required to have doctorates to publish. And those rhymes. 'Who-hash!' haha, get's me every time... 'Who-hash.'

#3... A kinder, gentler Santa: in the rustic Latin-American rendition of the story, ol' Saint Nick has a helper who eats naughty children. Yikes, flesh-hungry elves make a stocking full of coal look like a family bar-b-que at grandma's.

#2... Real Christmas trees, none of this putting up the same thing every year dribble. My family and myself visited Rockafeller Center in NYC where they had a sizable live tree from the raging forests of Oregon. A true wilderness adventurer chopped that tree down. Paul Bunyan methinks, whose sturdy ox, oh I don't know, let's call him "abe," braved the harsh terrain carrying said evergreen hundreds of miles through the snow, and what did I see when fixing mine eyes upon the festivities of St. Peter's, the greatest of all shrines built in our Lord's name?...arbor fabricated by human hands... Ya, plastic! These silly European Catholics have no clue...

.... AND THE NUMBER ONE REASON TO SPEND CHRISTMAS IN THE STATES IS ....

#1... Duh, cooler presents. Can anyone say iPod and endless accessories? Hello?? After all, what would I do without my music-pumping, picture-porting, video-viewing, bread-toasting, custom circumcision-performing, gator-training, justice-serving, dash-administering device swinging anew from in and around my hip? All-in-one might I add. I don't know about you, but, uh, I am that vain.

Eggs Benedikt

The St. Sicilia church choir planned a trip to Rome with the Papal audience. Fischer Johann, a second tenor, comes to the hairdresser.

"Can we keep it somewhat shorter today than usual?"
"Ok, why though?"
"I am traveling in the coming week to Rome."
"What do you have ahead of you then in your time with the Italians?"
"Details said, our choir has an audience with the Pope."
"Come on, listen to me about this Vatican business. The Pope, the Vatican, Italy and nearly all involved, everything nowadays is going to shit."

Three weeks later Fischer Johann appears again with his hairdresser.

"Well, were you in the Vatican?"
"Well clearly."
"Did you see the Pope also?"
"Ya, that's why we went there."
"Well...and? Do tell. He, for instance, what did he say to you personally?"
"He said this much for sure. I knelt before him. He placed his hand on my head and said: My son,... wow you should consult a new hairdresser. I know a guy up the road, he'll treat you right. Here's his card."

Thanks to German site: http://w.grocceni.com/pfarrer.html

On the Way Home

As I sit here in great anticipation awaiting the advent of my school's new on-line exam reservation system, I thought we might share in a moment of reflection if you will. Many of you I'm sure know that I live here in the Eternal City of Rome and have for over a year by now. Yesterday, what with it being Sunday and all, I found myself in a church pew as Christians are like to every now and again. My body was tired, and I did not feel much like attending a service in a cold and distant marble prison, where no one speaks to one another except when they are told, no one in this world sings the hymns but the priest and his little helpers because no one knows the hymns that we sing, and where its a free-for-all when we attempt to recite the creed which in the end proves to be somewhat of a race to the final word. Amen. Let it be. The only problem is that when we've gotten there, we forget what we are 'letting be' because we've zipped by so quickly. Sunday is, however, the Lord's day and it is to be celebrated, even if the company isn't the sunniest. So, what did I encounter on the way home? A church! (Indeed, it would be a feat for all humanity in and of itself if one could go a single day without passing by a church ediface in this town.) It was not just any church though - it was the Basilica of Saint John Lateran. You know, the official Basilica of Rome...the site of Papal residence until the time of the Avignon Papacy in the 14th century...glorious works of art and architecture built to the praise of the Lord's name. Any of this ring a bell?

So, I entered the church not expecting much but 45 minutes of pure frustration culminating in the eurcharistic celebration (quite likely the only part I enjoy) and took my place among the middle rows of the nave, or central area, which faces directly the principle altar. Flannery O'Conner once said, "The only thing that makes the world bearable is the Church, and the only thing that makes the Church bearable is the eucharist." With that thought floating around in my mind as the service began, I started to believe it. You'll never guess what took place at the entrance song. We began with a hymn that no one was aqcuainted with but the priest and his happy helperton. Joyful days are here to stay. I must say though, a fierce chord struck deep within me as the scripture readings came into play. The Pauline letter was from Phillipians 1:3-11.

I was taken back by Paul's words. His expression is so rich with passion and love for his fellow Christians. Are the members of his community perfect, angelic beings? No. They are all human beings involved in things of a human nature. Nothing extraordinary. Paul's affection for them in the love and charity of Christ drove him and urged him on to impress in many the same dream. He was so impressive to the extent that he was imprisoned for it and eventually sentanced to death by beheading. He writes this letter, Phillipians, from prison if I'm not mistaken. There he sits, trapped in a cage, veiled by metal bars. For many, all of life would be eclipsed by the thought of dying a captive. For Paul it was not so. His heart continued to make the journey to his companions by prayer and parchment. Engrossed in thought, I glanced up as the homily trudged on in our mass and suddenly made sense of the principle altar itself and its design. The cupola overarching the altar displays two golden statues, Peter and Paul, encaged in a series of golden bars. I thought very simply, that is what it takes to make a saint. A saint is someone who is able to see beyond the moment and the mechanics of life to God's greater glory and his ultimate victory in the love of Christ. As the Germans say, Wir leben in der Hoffnung. We live in hope. What other reason do we have to hope but Christ?

Good Pope, Bad Pope

Papal calibre fun by way of cartoon imagry.

Panorama of Rome

The wonders of the human mind are something to be explored more profoundly. When we die, they say that we have used only an average 10% of our mental capacity. This man is an autistic, and yet you can watch as he designs a 16-foot wide (faithful!!!) panorama of Rome after making one round of the city in a helicopter. Behold.

An Ode to Rome

I'm feeling a bit cantancorous today. Let me just say that. There comes a point in every person's journey when he or she notices along the way a break between the real and the ideal, unless he or she is living in the clouds and has yet to take that fall. (Sadly, they always fall the hardest) Nevertheless, should the gap at first be side-walk-sized, it soon begins to substantiate and often widens without control. So, what am I saying you ask? It was not too long after my arrival in Rome that I happened upon the phrase bella figura, or in a sense 'nice impression' in English. It is used in situations in which one displays sunny appearances just to hide the rough, mundane reality. If you wish, as a little example, take the post box here in Rome. The face of said box reads "External mail" and "Mail within the city" with a slot above corresponding to each label respectively. Sad we are to find that when the runners come to gather their mail from the various mail points throughout the city, they unlock the bottoms and the letters and packages fall into a single bag. Bella figura. If one was forced to describe Italian life, especially Roman life, this would do quite well. This in mind, when I, a tired, disgruntled, frustrated American stumbelled upon this poem by W.H. Auden earlier this evening, I thought to myself, I said "self, what better opportunity to share in a moment of Roman disillusionment than with a few moving lines of poetry." His piece here is meant to parrallel post-World War II America and the toppeling Western Roman Empire. Not much has changed here.

'The Fall of Rome'

The piers are pummelled by the waves;
In a lonely field the rain
Lashes an abandoned train;
Outlaws fill the mountain caves.

Fantastic grow the evening gowns;
Agents of the Fisc pursue
Absconding tax-defaulters through
The sewers of provincial towns.

Private rites of magic send
The temple prostitutes to sleep;
All the literati keep
An imaginary friend.

Cerebrotonic Cato may
Extol the Ancient Disciplines,
But the muscle-bound Marines
Mutiny for food and pay.

Caesar's double-bed is warm
As an unimportant clerk
Writes I DO NOT LIKE MY WORK
On a pink official form.

Unendowed with wealth or pity,
Little birds with scarlet legs,
Sitting on their speckled eggs,
Eye each flu-infected city.

Altogether elsewhere, vast
Herds of reindeer move across
Miles and miles of golden moss,
Silently and very fast.

The Pope's Challenge (Rerun: 30 Aug '05)

The Pope and Queen Elizabeth were standing on a balcony beaming at thousands of people in the forecourt below. The Queen says to the Pope out of the corner of her mouth, "I bet you a tenner that I can make every English person in the crowd go wild with just a wave of my hand." The Pope says, "No way. You can't do that." The Queen says, "Watch this." So the Queen waves her hand and every English person in the crowd goes crazy, waving their little plastic Union Jacks on sticks and cheering, basically going ballistic.

So the Pope is standing there thinking, "Uh oh, what am I going to do? I never thought she'd be able to do it." So he thinks to himself for a minute and then he turns to her and says, "I bet you I can make every Irish person in the crowd go wild, not just now, but for the rest of the week, with just one nod of my head." The Queen goes, "No way, it can't be done." So the Pope headbutts her.

Thanks to absolutelyjokes.com and to every grudge-bearing Irishman that exists. Perhaps that is a redundancy.

All kidding aside

For all who are interested, I stumbled upon a site at which it is actually worth taking time out of your overly-scheduled day to look. Thomas Merton, one of my own personal heroes, lived the Christian journey in a dynamic fashion, subtle yet powerful, and this site contains varied information on his life and works. It's quite innovative, I must say.

Friends are a gift

I've decided that since many of the previous entries on this page are abstract and/or very technical that I would go ahead and just land back on planet earth and say a few things about a good friend of mine. You know, sing his praises a bit. Talk about what a nice guy he is and all that and express my love for him to sort of heighten the world's awareness of what a stellar opportunity we have to be graced by his presence. I'd just like to take a moment in time and stop, let my mouth speak out of the abundance of my heart and tell you that I have a friend, and while he may not be close to me nor I close to him, he remains a friend nevertheless and no ocean in the world, no matter how ample, is a boundary too great for us. He's a brilliant guy who is in a tough place right now, and I wish I could come to his assistance. In the end though, he will make it through. We all know that. He's a living example of Nietzsche's dictum "What does not kill us make us stronger." He has made it through worse and will continue to press on. Hang in there man. We love you. Oh, here's his blog while we're at it, in case you are not yet acquanted with our man. I urge you to visit.

The Pope, Billy Graham, and Oral Roberts

The Pope, Billy Graham, and Oral Roberts were in a plane crash over the Atlantic Ocean. Tragically they all died and went to the pearly gates together. St. Peter was surprised to see them. "Oh, dear! We weren't expecting you and your quarters aren't ready yet. We can't take you in and we can't send you back!" Getting an idea, he picked up the celestial phone and called Lucifer. "I have three gentlemen who are ours, but their places aren't ready yet. Could you put them up for a couple of days? I'll owe you one." The Devil reluctantly agreed.

Two days later, St. Peter got a call. "Pete, this is Lucifer. You have to come get these three guys that are yours. This Pope guy is forgiving everybody, the Graham fellow is saving everybody, and Oral Roberts has raised enough money to buy air conditioning!"

Thanks: http://www.basicjokes.com/

Chad Vader

On a serious note friends, you should consider this.

He's Chad, Darth Vader's clumsy, uninspired younger brother.

Eggs Benedict

Welcome friends, to Friday's Eggs Benedict. Viola.

"Last week at Germany's University of Regensburg, which as you know is a safety school, Pope Benedict gave an address in which he discussed Islam's concept of jihad by quoting 14th century Byzantine emperor Manuel Paleologos II. Ya know if you're going to make a wholesale generalization, say it in German. It gives it that extra 'oomph.'" -- Jon Stewart

We'll do this every Friday. Enjoy.

Look into my eyes

"Welcome, to the desert of the real," says Morpheus to newly-awoken friend Thomas Anderson in the film The Matrix. Anderson's skin is a blinding white hue, and all across his spine, head, and chest nodes arise out of his body, naked and exposed, to the surface. The nodes lead into his cranal cavity and central nervous system; they are signs of a world that once existed for Anderson, they are the result of a complex system of wiring and mechanical configuration which guided, perhaps even controlled, his brain waves and bodily functions since the moment of his birth. He has been used his entire life. The only value that Anderson took was proportionate to what he was able to produce for an energy-based, machine-lead infrastructure. "Why do my eyes hurt?" Anderson says as he attempts to focus his vision, distorted and blurred from decades of stasis. "Because you have never used them," is Morpheus' reply. "Because you have never used them."

You see, Mr. Anderson never before thought to question his life as a computer-hacking, 30 year-old teenager. Prior to this day, he was a testament to mediocre subsistance, and that presented no problems to the exent of his concern. Unknown to him, there was a rich stratum of meaning awaiting his moment of first wonder, a wealth pulsing with life that pre-dates his incarnation and will outlive him, although he will pass by it and be edept to enter into it. Anderson's story will be incorperated with that of this other world. His inclusion depends solely upon energy garnered from his own will's desire. The proper place for such a will can only be his soul, and that desire's bemouned destination, the other world. His new-found heart's desire leads him across the threshold of the now, into a reflective 'other' state, and back into the now with incredible perspective and insight. Mr. Anderson's mind is no longer under the guise of a mechanical, cyber-intelligence. He has discovered, by a friendly helping-hand, his own thoughts and autonomy. He is now able to take up his responsability as human person, Anderson embodies his own limited, interior state. He realizes that he is not, as the cyber-intelligence thinks befitting, a being for the proliferation of resources, but a being in and of himself. Freed from someone else's sick remedy for individual development, he can now live. "Welcome to the real world."

Not to scare you away. Those who have made it this far are brave. Stay with me here. I have been reflecting quite a bit the last couple of weeks, and much like Thomas Anderson, the position of man in this world, even in philosophical discourse intrigues me. Shall we share in a few thoughts? Good. Let's start with the simple notion that man is valuable. No one could refute this and be called a sane person. Everyone is here in agreement, all philosophies, all cultures, all religions. From Nietzsche to Ghandi, and back again. We all have an accord on this point. But, I ask, from where does this value come and in what does it consist? Because, this is the curcial point on which the axis of our contemporary world rotates. Is it, as so many people are like to say, an intrinsic value? That is, does man's worth exhibit itself in the sole fact that he is human person? That he loves, thinks, breathes, watches the sunset and sits in awe of it's beauty. Or, is it on the other hand, an inherent worth that comes about because of man's role in a greater scheme? I've been delving into philosophy for the last 5 years or so, and I've come to a place in my reflection, albeit perhaps humble and/or shallow, that many of the greater philosophies at work on planet earth today and in the past century threaten this notion of the intrinsic value of man:

Hegel's phenomenology of spirit envisions philosophy as a dialectical history that is, through different expressions of the human spirit, in a constant state of arriving at an answer. Man is thus an agent for bringing about the truth. Marx proposes that man takes on a dulled, deadened state when he is drawn by the necessity to survive. Work and fabrication are underlined in this philsophy. That is, man is judged by his part in the production of a worker's paradise, not in the mere fact that he is human. The various philosophies too in the background of modern science, e.g. logical positivism, image the value of man in some way as a result of his role as the discoverer of miniscule and unapparent realities, as the witness to a mathematically ordered world that shows no interest or meaning vis-á-vis person-based ethics. These philosophies are ultimately driven to master nature in an attempt to overcome it and reach toward perfection. But again, man is not worthy becuase he simply is. He is valuable in the event that he acts as aid in a cause. He has value according to what he does, what he produces, (inherent) not according to what he is (intrinsic). In Kant, too, the only intrinsic good is a good will willing. And, even though Kant is the last to speak of manipulation of person's towards an ideal end, humanity is again an agent of ethics, not a necessarily good being.

Case in point: The notion of inherent human value is widespread and commonplace today. This is a grave danger. Not only on a personal level with reguard to individual thought, etc. But, on a more ample scale. History shows that people easily become disposable and defaced if they are a cog in the wheel of a machine. It is worth it. The sacrifice is sufficient means to the ideal end. Am I saying that ideals are bad? Well, let's take into account that as Francis Schaeffer says "Ideas have legs" and to accompany his thought, ideals are a greater extent or degree of ideas, which can manipulate and gather people behind its lead. So, 'Ideals have bodyguards' should do. In addition, much of post-enlightenment culture today is urged by the notion that man is not enough as he is. He thus involves himself in the creation of a paridise. Nice things, surrounded by abundant beauty. A big house, gorgeous wife, luxury. What does one to to acquire this life? He must work and work and when he's finished work some more, providing that he hasn't old money. Man is much more than we make him out to be. We have become so wrapped-up in our own ends, that we never stop to find ourself on a passage through this life. We do not appreciate man for who he is, and thus we do not value him as person because we do not know man. Just take note of day-to-day life in modern, technological socities. We drive our cars constantly, we sit in front of computer screens, televisions, we sit on airplanes, we play video games, watch films, and heat our tv dinners up in the microwaves so we can keep going and don't waste time at the dinner table. All of this we take on at the expense of a glance in the eyes of the other. In this process, we have lost our sight and are at times unable to even see ourselves in the mirror. Coincidence? I think not.

Thanks to the thoughts of Professor Lucas Lucas, teacher of the Philosophy of Man course at the Gregorian University.

Rome sweet Rome (Rerun: 22 Dec. 2005)

Rome sweet Rome (Rerun from 22 Dec. 2005) Pretext: During Christmas break last year. I was back in the States.

Hmm, my time before the break. Where do I begin? There's just so much to tell. As I sit here and listen to Italian Radio via Internet, I am missing the streets of Rome already, the sites, the sounds, the people. It is a city full of a certain lovable busyness that is difficult to display with words. Ever-so important Italian businessmen vested in tightly fit pin-striped suites fill the streets every morning, hair slicked-back, sporting the latest in fashionable, pointy footwear, which I maintian must surely be stolen from Santa's Elves, painted black, and given the fiting Italian stamp of phony authenticity (Warning! Do not think about that phrase before driving or the use of heavy machinery, may cause confusion and loss of limbs).

Everyday, day and night, both men and women of all persuasions are seen barrelling through the narrow streets on their vespas, which sound more to me like landscaping equipment than transportation. But, nevertheless, everything is always at least a little in retardo from the buses and trains to appointments and even the arrival of the check at restaraunts. It seems to me that things would actually get done and remain somewhat organized were it not for the 13 coffee/smoke breaks that they take every, oh let's say hour or so, and due to these countless pause throughout the day, I think everyone must come back to their work anew having forgotten where they left off nearly having to start over, hence the disorginization.

The efficiency and work ethic are mindblowing. They call Rome the Eternal City, which is a beautiful and fiting name, but I am here to tell you that I had no idea of what an eternity actually was until I tried to get some matters of business done in this city while in a hurry. Incredible! But not to fear, because here come the carabinieri, the local law enforcement, to set everyone straight with their rigur and discipline-led lives. I mean no one earns that military-style blue berets for nothng, right? Sadly not so, for said carabinieri, whose social sentament I would compare to the ROTC crowd in high school, are among the most lazy of the bunch, taking just as many breaks during the day and even passing their breaks and naps in marked cars as part of the day's work. Alas, like the others, they are seemingly too busy doing nothing all day to actually being doing anything useful.

This would all be overwealmingly sad for someone like myself to discover were it not for the other aspect of Italian daily life that breads the phrase dolce di fare niente, the sweetness of doing nothing. Instead of days spent at work at all times in both body, mind, and spirit in a somewhat mechanical way such as we see many times in the States, it is not a rare thing to walk down the street on any given day and peak into a shop or restaraunt only to see the workers, their customers, and managers conversing in a playful way with one another. We in the States have lost sight I think of eachother, we are so caught up in doing and making that we forget about people as they are, not slaves to some worklord, but as beautiful, life-giving creatures. We forget many times to experience the others around us, hence to experience life. Don't get me wrong, much of life in the US is dynamic and progressive. This is, however, my humble observance of two modes of approaching life everyday. I can only hope that the Italian way rubs off on me. As for Rome itself, it is a city that does sleep and even sleeps a little during the day, a city that sports cigarette-smoking, drunken priests and prostitues present at mass, a city that accepts all those who wish to pass through and changes all those who do so. I love it. Every second.

(p.s. awwwe. Look how cute I was, trying to be witty).

Eggs Benedict

Pope Benedict XVI, two Cardinals from his Counsil and Prime Minister Berlusconi were walking alongside the road while chatting about Italian-Vatican relations when a thought occurred to the Prime Minister. He thought to himself, ‘Nearly all Italians are cradle-Catholics, as am I, but why do I believe in God? I've never really thought about it.’

So, with this in mind, Berlusconi asked the opinion of the Pope. He said, “Papa Benedetto, perché Lei credisce a Dio?” The Pope responded, “Well my brother, many people look to a man by the name of St. Anselm of Canterbury for a reasoned explanation of their faith. His ontological argument for the existence of God goes like this”:

1) God is that than which nothing greater can be conceived
2) Existence in reality is better than ideal existence
3) Even the fool has an idea of God
Concl.) God exists

Cardinal #1: But look, the problem with Anselm is that you can replace ‘God’ with any other word to prove that it exists. With this reasoning, you can prove for example that a leprechaun exists or that an invisible sky-doughnut exists. Whatever you wish to prove, you have it.

Cardinal #2: Well, technically, the greatest problem with Anselm is that he begs the question in defining God on the path to proving his existence. This is a cardinal fallacy in logical discussion, and therefore renders the argument fallacious with bad logical quality.

Pope Benedict: To synthesize a bit of what has been said, one can say above all that the argument, if it is to be examined as a logical induction, only works for the greatest being. That is to say, it works only if we presuppose that God is indeed that than which nothing greater can be conceived. And while Anselm’s logic appears at first to be circular, one must remember that these words were written in a spiritual meditation before the enlightenment, not a modern-day philosophical treatise. So to judge his logic by our standards seems quite disingenuous. But if we are to bring forth his thoughts into the contemporary world, there must be a harmony of faith and reason involved in our reflection…

And the discussion went on like this for some time, first over some coffee, then they chatted over pizza, and later they proceeded over a bottle of wine deep into the evening hours. All day long as Berlusconi was present to this clash of great theological minds, he nodded his head on occasion to affirm and respect the thoughts of the three other men.

When the night was coming to an end, Berlusconi stood up and thanked the men for their time and insight. As they shook hands, they all posed for a photo opportunity that was displayed in the next day’s newspaper. Above this picture, the headline read: “Berlusconi, Benedict Encounter: ‘God is a celestial doughnut.’ ”

I learned my lesson*

The other day I learned my lesson, or at least I was taught a lesson. Whether I learned anything remains to be seen. But, in any event, I was walking home from school and noticed that a car was making a u-turn in the middle of a two-lane road with traffic going each way. While it may seem very strange to some that this happened, those of you who have visited foreign countries know that many times traffic laws are treated as more of a good goal to shoot for rather than a necessity as it is in the states.

So anyways, as said motorist spun around in the midst of fairly heavy traffic, his tiny Italian car ran up on the curb with a crunch. "ooo" I said to myself silently with a how-could-someone-be-so-stupid look on my face. Next, the driver got out of his car, and I passed him staring at the mark that the curb made on the front bumper. I then thought to myself, "Man, what an idiot" while looking backwards at the spectacle of backed up traffic and subtle hand gestures. Just then, in that moment, I tripped and fell on a loose, unearthed cobble stone in front of all of those people. I guess that's what I get for looking back, a scuffed leather shoe and a bruised sense of pride.

Per quelli che sono interessati

Ever wondered what an Italian political advertisement is like?

Forza Italia

Italian House Guest

Here we have our ever-so-insightful President who welcomes Prime Minister Berlusconi of Italy to Camp David.

Italian House Guest

+-[Questions and Curiosity]

Last night I had the pleasure of seeing Steve Spielburg's new film, Munich. It sparked many a sentiment in me, not just about the past but also regarding events that have taken place in the last few months. The issue of the films effectiveness in delivering a specific message aside, I must share some reflections on a particular scene that grabbed at me.

Here we find Papa (an underground 'anti-terrorist' informant) speaking about the art of cooking with the film's protagonist Avner (assassine of Palestinian terrorist big-wigs). Papa chats whimsically with Avner saying that Avner's hands are much too large to be a great chef. The conversation quickly become a double-antandra when Papa whims, "Oh, we are tragic men. Butcher's hands, gentle souls."

You know it made me think what an ironic statement that is. This is not to say that people having been involved in events that took place 30+ years ago are the same as certain religiously driven militants today. Hear me out, a film is not actual events and has an agenda. Besides, films kind of say more than they have to. But, the motif is clear: Through and through in this blood bath of a film, it seems that everyone involved in a movement that wished to restore some sort of balance or equalibrium using radical means, i.e. violence, in the end everyone on all sides had blood on their hands and destruction in their hearts. Such is the fruits of hatred and ignorance.

Do not get me wrong, I am not saying that all violence is evil. In fact, passivism is a completely selfish stance to take. But, I cannot help but be curious when I come home, read the news, turn on the t.v. and I see foreign embassies, vulnerable guests in another land, smashed to rubble, flags aflame, and riots in the streets. And all of this is over what? What are those people fighting for? What are we fighting for? It is not clear to me that those at battle even know anymore.

If the answer is cartoons, that is, if Muslims the world over are taking to the streets with displays of violence, of all things over something as absurd as an animated figure, then do we have a serious problem on our hands? What happens in the case that the reaction to the cartoons is actually a telling reflection of a universally violent Islam? On the other side of the coin, are we guilty? Are we, those who create and/or propagate seemingly irreverent material whether for pleasure, thought-provocation or both, the purpatraitors? Is irreverance always a bad thing, or can it be life-giving? I leave it open.

These are not just issues for Americans to think about. We are dealing with global dynamics that are not simple or straightforward. Here are some sites that may help us search at least in terms of basic information and education:

Khaleej Times

A 'Moderate' Voice

Radical New Views of Islam and the Origins of the Koran

Cartoon Protests

Medieval Imagery of Muhammad

Irreverant Cartoons Done By Muslims Themselves:

Arab-European Cartoon

Arab-European Cartoon 2

Arab-European Dutoux Reference

Cartoons from the East

Historic Wisdom on Pride and Condemning Others:

Erasmus's 'Laus Stultitiae'

Fireball-Blast from the Past

This is what happens when teenagers are free to let loose in the environs of a choral arrangement. Oh ya, and mushrooms help too.

Acapella nintendo extravaganza.

Kudos to Ness

Lazy Sunday

Good God, all these finals. So much stress.
What's that little Nicky? Here's a remedy for you.
Chris Parnell and Andy Sandburg from NL seen on S.
Well, they made a video that you should probably view.

Ya, that was magical huh?

Lazy Sunday

Finals are here so I'm going to do a week of silly videos. There will be one posted everyday. Cheers.

Hide, quick, he's coming!

It's Egg's Benedict time. Let me see...Here's a nice little gem from the past:



On a serious note, Pope Benedict XVI's new encyclical "Deus caritas est" (the first of his Pontificate) has been published in numerous languages. The motif of the piece, as you might gather from it's title, is divine and human love.

For the most part, in my eyes, his thoughts about love are just out of this world. In the first section he is already bouncing ideas off of giants from the past like Nietzsche, Descartes, Virgil, and the list continues.

And all this is coming from a humble man who took time during the Conclave process to pray that he not become Pope. Well, anyways. If you wish to read it, do yourself a favor and skate on over to the Vatican website.

+-[State of the Union]

Ya know, this is the way that Bush really seems to many people in this world, and, from my experience, Europe is by no means an exception. If the loading time is a bit sketchy, try to let it sit for a sec in pause mode and then play it.

My job is to presidate

P.S. Watch for (Left) Dick Cheney's rude gesture and (Right) Speaker Dennis Hastert's food habit. Funny how the shot nearly mimics the imagry from a judgement scene in Christian art. Just a thought.

Anyhow, the 2005 speech for those interested: State of the Union.

Bella Roma*

Strolling down the street after class the other day, a friend of mine casually said, "It's beautiful, Rome. Small, but beautiful." And it made me stop and think. Such a simple, passing phrase that meant so much. It poked me on the shoulder and carried me back to my first impressions of this little city. What I noticed the moment that I arrived is that the Italian culture is one that places a large emphasis on the body and on space. Italians walk together, they eat well, they visit the places that they treasure from times past, all the while chatting away as if they have just been reunited after years of separation. Memories made, memories shared.

It is a rare thing, by the way, to see an Italian with shabby clothes who looks like they have taken less than 45 minutes to prepare before leaving the house. After all, care for their body is care for themselves. That's just what they do. And all of this takes place in an itty-bitty living space (thank you Robin Williams), and always has. So, just like we learned in Kindergarden (well, those of us who listened at least), we share because we have no choice. On the street, a bump here, a brush there. No problem. And it's not just Italians with this mentality either. Rome is incredibly international. Being that close often brings people together, I find.

Ok, it's true. Rome is not a paradise of fairy-tales and bubble-gum. Humans live here, not Roman gods. But, in the end, that is what makes Rome so beautiful is people. I do wish that I could share a lot of what goes on here with you all. But, sadly, we are also restricted by this whole body/space thing. But, ok. That is also what makes a visit to Rome that much more inticing, right? Until then, here are some pictures from first semester that I compiled.

*Nota bene. Here is a quick way to communcate the content of the posts which you find on this blog. In the title, there will appear these symbols fittingly:

That which reguards... my experience of Rome*

... +-[news and current events] (a plane with a banner, see it?!)

... jokes, games, videos, etc. (no symbol)

Counterfeit Christmas

See! In no way was I kidding. The tree was as fake as the hairs atop Howard Cosell's head.

P.S. The video is quite long, so for the best view, fast forward to about 55:00 where they illuminate the star. Oh glory of glories.

For those who are a bit lost, there we are: Why we do it better

The Preachin' Man

No-handed Bible thumpers unite!

Kudos to Ness for this one.

Eggs Benedict v 7.0

It's getting kind of late here, and I'm writing a stupid paper in Italian on some guy named Platone. So, I thought to myself I said, "self, how better to spend your time than to make a new post on the ol' blog?" Here are a list of comments made by late night talk-show hosts. Oh and, they are all kind of brief so use your imagination a bit. You know, an audience and then, an incredibly elaborate, although short and snappy at the same time, opening monologue. Popcorn. The whole deal.

Sooooo, here's benny.

Fun with Philosophy

See, before I thought I was just lazy and liked Family Guy, but now I know that I'm actually a contemplative, which of course I knew all along. I just had to be reminded. You can be too.

+-[Uh oh, someone's fabulous!]

And now for today's headlines: 800 million children world-wide suffer from malnutrition and other forms of neglect...Mental illness a serious issue in Australia's World Day for the Sick...and, this just in from Rome, breaking news: Pope Benedict XVI gives happy response after papal appartment gets face-lift. Wait...I'm sorry, what?!

That's right! Alongside these and other pertinant stories, we have an all-important report of our beloved Holy Father's so-called "Extreme Makeover: Vatican Edition." And his response is my favorite thing of all. "I can only admire the things you've done, like these beautiful floors." What, he couldn't just say, "wow, how beautiful?" or how about "Great job." Alas, what can one expect from a German Pope. Everything he says must be Über-profound, ya ok we get it.

Is it absurd to anyone else that they cover this shop-talk in the media? To add to the misery, while more children than I can count in my entire lifetime are starving throughout this dumn world, 200 people helped to remodel B-16's personal quarters in the Papal Palace. How many clowns does it take to screw in a light bulb? Well, we are talking Italy here, I suppose.

Look here for yourself.

Blonde Joke

I'm such a sucker for a blonde joke.

Why we do it better

So, I'm leaving tommorrow again to get on my marry way to Rome after the holidays. I'm so gleeful... oh alright I'll say it, Rome again Rome again, jiggidy jig. There, it's done and you can't do a thing about it, but you CAN keep reeding because the worst part of the post is over. So ha! It is, nevertheless, time for all good little boys and girls to be grateful and reflect on the past few weeks of holiday fun and cheer. Here it is... my top 5 reasons to celebrate Christmas in the States (or the 'U.S.' for those opposed to 'the States.' You know who you are.):

#5... Better Christmas carols, we've got enough holly, jolly tunes to keep the whole family singing from noon until night fall. Hey, who took frosty's nose???

#4... Let's face it, where else is it legal, let alone cute and adorable, to actually steal Christmas? Wow, those children's authors just get better and better each and every year, eh? You know it's times like these when I'm glad that they're required to have doctorates to publish. And those rhymes. 'Who-hash!' haha, get's me every time... 'Who-hash.'

#3... A kinder, gentler Santa: in the rustic Latin-American rendition of the story, ol' Saint Nick has a helper who eats naughty children. Yikes, flesh-hungry elves make a stocking full of coal look like a family bar-b-que at grandma's.

#2... Real Christmas trees, none of this putting up the same thing every year dribble. My family and myself visited Rockafeller Center in NYC where they had a sizable live tree from the raging forests of Oregon. A true wilderness adventurer chopped that tree down. Paul Bunyan methinks, whose sturdy ox, oh I don't know, let's call him "abe," braved the harsh terrain carrying said evergreen hundreds of miles through the snow, and what did I see when fixing mine eyes upon the festivities of St. Peter's, the greatest of all shrines built in our Lord's name?...arbor fabricated by human hands... Ya, plastic! These silly European Catholics have no clue...

.... AND THE NUMBER ONE REASON TO SPEND CHRISTMAS IN THE STATES IS ....

#1... Duh, cooler presents. Can anyone say iPod and endless accessories? Hello?? After all, what would I do without my music-pumping, picture-porting, video-viewing, bread-toasting, custom circumcision-performing, gator-training, justice-serving, dash-administering device swinging anew from in and around my hip? All-in-one might I add. I don't know about you, but, uh, I am that vain.

Ok, so that was silly. But anyways, that's where we stand on the whole Christmas thing, and that's the story. But, seriously, I hope you all had a wonderful time during the holidays, and don't worry, I didn't mention hanukkah, etc because there is only so much space, ya know. Besides, the 'Dradle, Dradle, Dradle" door has been knocked on too many times. After all I am a friend of the Jews, what with living in an interreligious-friendly community and all. 'Who doesn't like a Jew?', I always say. Go dial-up Adam Sandler about that list, ok? He's dun' beat that horse dead... Have a great new year everyone.

A Reflection on Things New*

What a difference a year makes, eh? It is less than twelve months ago that I was in the humble classrooms of Flagler College, scared witless, stiffened by times icy touch and the immanent boot-to-the-streets-of-the-real-world that was approaching with exponential speed and importance. There I sat day by day in lectures and discussions, unable to concentrate on my studies, my loved one's, my life, because I looked too much to the future with those big dreams of mine - study in Europe, speak another language, travel the world and become great like the great who came before - that I began to live in the future with those things and was fighting a Gollum-scale battle of inferiority with myself. Ya, you know the one. The kind that drives you a just a bit mad, that shows you indeed how human you are. 'You won't cut it in Europe, look at you, an ignorant American child trapped in the body of a 22 year old man. You can't even make a decent score on the GRE. You might as well throw in the towel. Why don't you go work at Waffle House where you shall be useful?'

Well, I won't lie to you, it got worse. I was told this penetrating news one day: it wasn't possible to ship me off to Europe to study because of finances. Not only this, but also thoughts filled my head comparing life as a student in the States with that in the European system. (Of course I was kidding myself into accepting less than my dream) ‘For the prices of time and money that I would spend to study in Europe, I could get a quicker and less pricy education in the US.’ I began to lean away from going to Europe at all costs, ‘maybe I should take this easier route that is becoming simpler and more appealing as each moment passes. Any amount that I would have to sacrifice to go to Europe and spend more time on my studies seemed negligent and wasteful in light of my other lucrative options. (Not true) Besides, who needs Europe? I don’t. (I did, so bad, with a desire as intense as the smell of every scent in every train station in Europe) They can take their haughty, enlightened attitude and go where they belong. (I love that about them). I’ll just go over for the summer sometime or something. (I already did that, I got a taste and I wanted so much more).

Shortly after that, as if this wasn't enough, the main school to which I applied in the states, the place where I was a sure 'full-ride scholarship candidate,' didn’t even accept my application. DENIED. Do not pass ‘go,’ do not collect $200. And even if you do happen to wander by this ‘go,’ be sure to grab a complimentary tissue from the counter, wipe that pathetic tear...then be off with you. What a smack in the face. What shame. Am I going to fulfill that solitary dream in which my head has rested for years now? It would seem not. Waffle House, here I come… 'How would you like your hashbrowns sir?' Covered with disappointment, or smothered by the shards of my dreams? What a life. Guess I’ll spend it whiling the time away. That juke-box just there in the corner is kind of neat I suppose. Enough already. That life isn’t for me. You get it.

But, I’m here to tell you that things changed for the better very shortly. Light peeked it’s warming face through the overcast as the possibilities, a ray of hope, began to pour in. Something very unexpected happened. Through some connections that I had with the diocese of St. Augustine, I soon arranged a meeting with the Bishop, in which we spoke of many things. One of which was that he had a sum of money that had interestingly been just fermenting since he came to his position a few years back. He said, if I was serious about wanting this education thing to happen at the Greg that he, a Gregorian alumnus, would support me with a helpful sum each year for as long as he could. Soon after this, I began to become so hopeful for my path ahead. After that day, additional support for me came so quick that I still can hardly keep up with it all, from my parents most of all, but Greg helped, we had another benefactor give a bursa di studi or scholarship to the Greg for US native (that fits me) lay (also me) students (me too) who needed loans to come study, (which I also did). In the end, nearly my whole first year in Rome is paid for in full. All I can say here to describe my feelings has already been expressed in the words quoted by the eminent philosopher Walter Sobchak from must-see film The Big Lebowski, ‘If you will it, it is no dream dude.’ Ya, well. It helps to have a bit of support too. Thanks to all who make these days in Rome possible. You literally are the ground on which I stand, it is your help and care, not any merit of my own, that proves invaluable to the development and fruition of my life. I stand edified and full of gratitude.

+-[We made it!]

So here we are... I'm glad to see that you survived the space-time warp. Let me know what you think of the layout here. If it's too light or too much somehow, let's get that changed. The old site is here if you wish to read older posts.