New life for the world
Last night, I arrived with my family for our church's midnight mass at 11:15 in order to hear the carol program; at 12:00 am, we all stood up for the processional and sang "Adeste Fidelis." And we waited. And we waited some more. And then we all sat down and sort of muttered quietly to ourselves, while the choir director dithered about, and then brightly announced that since we only got to hear most of the Christmas songs once a year, they were just going to sing them again! So they did. Meanwhile, none of the four priests who were supposed to celebrate the mass could be found, and someone was dispatched to go bang on the rectory door and see what gives.
My brother and I were of the opinion that this was like when your professor doesn't show up for class on time-- you give it fifteen minutes, and then that's it, you made the effort, and it's a canceled class. My mother is not of this way of thinking, so we stayed in the pew until two emergency priests could be found (I expect they had to inflate them, or add water, or something), and the whole shebang started off forty five minutes late. Now, you'd think that this would make for a shorter homily than usual, but no, the monseigneur told two extremely rambling stories that I'm pretty sure he made up entirely on the spot, which had no relevance or intersection with each other except that they both happened at Christmas. One involved a Christmas pageant, and the other one was a very bizarre story about (shit you not) physically glowing baby Jesus and Mary's physical ecstasy at the birth. It's difficult to explain but very uncomfortable to envision mentally.
At any rate, I finally got home at 2:30 in the morning. I have eaten far too many fattening foods, and successfully executed an improved coconut flan and a chocolate peppermint trifle, and righteously enjoyed the Dallas Cowboys getting their victory snatched away by the Arizona Cardinals. I do regret the fact that I think I jinxed the Washington Capitals in their game against the Pittsburgh Penguins by mentioning their game win beforehand, but I can only hope for better things for the January 1st game. I would say something about my feelings on Alexander Ovechkin and Sidney Crosby and their current respective lack and possession of facial hair, but I'm rather afraid of jinxing that as well.
I am somewhat disappointed that the lady who tackled the pope last year didn't go for a triple-header and make one last glorious attempt, but I expect there are posters with her picture up plastered all over the Vatican, and the Swiss Guard all have "Halberd this woman on sight" orders.
A more general lolpope for the discerning consumer. Man, we all know he's thinking this all the time.
This one is here just for Twig, and is probably unrecognizable to those not familiar with the Edison Hate Future series.
Lastly, here is one of my favorite carols, the "Child of the Poor/What Child Is This" medley. The video should be ignored; this was just the only decent musical version I could find online at short notice, by the Notre Dame Folk Group.
I hope everyone had a good holiday this season, no matter what you celebrate or how you believe, and that everyone is warm, well-fed, sheltered, loved, in the happy portion of being drunk, or some maximum combination of all those factors. Peace and happiness, folks.
My brother and I were of the opinion that this was like when your professor doesn't show up for class on time-- you give it fifteen minutes, and then that's it, you made the effort, and it's a canceled class. My mother is not of this way of thinking, so we stayed in the pew until two emergency priests could be found (I expect they had to inflate them, or add water, or something), and the whole shebang started off forty five minutes late. Now, you'd think that this would make for a shorter homily than usual, but no, the monseigneur told two extremely rambling stories that I'm pretty sure he made up entirely on the spot, which had no relevance or intersection with each other except that they both happened at Christmas. One involved a Christmas pageant, and the other one was a very bizarre story about (shit you not) physically glowing baby Jesus and Mary's physical ecstasy at the birth. It's difficult to explain but very uncomfortable to envision mentally.
At any rate, I finally got home at 2:30 in the morning. I have eaten far too many fattening foods, and successfully executed an improved coconut flan and a chocolate peppermint trifle, and righteously enjoyed the Dallas Cowboys getting their victory snatched away by the Arizona Cardinals. I do regret the fact that I think I jinxed the Washington Capitals in their game against the Pittsburgh Penguins by mentioning their game win beforehand, but I can only hope for better things for the January 1st game. I would say something about my feelings on Alexander Ovechkin and Sidney Crosby and their current respective lack and possession of facial hair, but I'm rather afraid of jinxing that as well.
I am somewhat disappointed that the lady who tackled the pope last year didn't go for a triple-header and make one last glorious attempt, but I expect there are posters with her picture up plastered all over the Vatican, and the Swiss Guard all have "Halberd this woman on sight" orders.
A more general lolpope for the discerning consumer. Man, we all know he's thinking this all the time.
This one is here just for Twig, and is probably unrecognizable to those not familiar with the Edison Hate Future series.
Lastly, here is one of my favorite carols, the "Child of the Poor/What Child Is This" medley. The video should be ignored; this was just the only decent musical version I could find online at short notice, by the Notre Dame Folk Group.
I hope everyone had a good holiday this season, no matter what you celebrate or how you believe, and that everyone is warm, well-fed, sheltered, loved, in the happy portion of being drunk, or some maximum combination of all those factors. Peace and happiness, folks.