No, they are not rotten kids

I thought J.K. Rowling needed defending from people who call Harry Potter and his friends rotten kids.

A laptop computer keyboard seemed a better defensive choice than a wand.

UPDATE: Thanks to friend Bookworm for the kind words and the link.

Basic training

Jack Dunphy, police officer, on protocol most of us know (or should):

You may be tooling along on a Sunday drive in your 1932 Hupmobile when, quite unknown to you, someone else in a 1932 Hupmobile knocks off the nearby Piggly Wiggly. A passing police officer sees you and, asking himself how many 1932 Hupmobiles can there be around here, pulls you over. At that moment I can assure you the officer is not all that concerned with trying not to offend you. He is instead concerned with protecting his mortal hide from having holes placed in it where God did not intend. And you, if in asserting your constitutional right to be free from unlawful search and seizure fail to do as the officer asks, run the risk of having such holes placed in your own.

When the officer has satisfied himself that it was not you and your Hupmobile that were involved in the Piggly Wiggly heist, he owes you an explanation for the stop and an apology for the inconvenience, but if you’re running your mouth about your rights and your history of oppression and what have you, you’re likely to get neither.

Ace has more.

Hot in that kitchen much?

From a story in Politico:

“Twenty-five percent of my people believe the Pentagon and Rumsfeld were responsible for taking the twin towers down,” said Rep. Collin Peterson, a Democrat who represents a conservative Republican district in Minnesota. “That’s why I don’t do town meetings.”

I'm of two minds about the citation. On the one hand, it's a backhand for conversatives, phrased to garner sympathy for elected officials who have to contend with more than their share of lunatic constituents. On the other hand, it could also be interpreted to mean that Peterson and his ilk are sissies, because Petersen seems impatient with the voters he's supposed to represent.

Would Chief Marge Gunderson of Fargo fame cross the street to avoid conspiracy theorists? No, she would not.

Maybe Rep. Peterson needs remedial help from actress Frances McDormand. He wouldn't feel threatened by McDormand or her filmmaker husband, which means they might have some success teaching a fellow Democrat how to hide his contempt for representative democracy.

Michelangelo meets the particle accelerator

If you missed these poetic and well-researched thoughts from the Anchoress, you really should read them.

And if she writes stuff like this after drinking that "Mystic Monk" coffee, then I'm tempted to say "I'll have what she's having." Here's one of several crystalline paragraphs sparked by word of a new book from Andrew Parker:

From the mind of Michelangelo comes staggering vision applied one paint stroke at a time, and as he dabs at the stone, even he cannot dream that 600 years later, in a world where mankind considers walking on the moon to be “old stuff,” a scientist will ponder this work and discover within it another clue – another way of applying all we do know to that which we do not understand – thus angling Adam’s outstretched, tentative hand just the tiniest bit nearer to God’s.

The quotable monsignor

From his homily today:

"God is always multiplying the loaves and fishes in our lives..."

Loving a "big tent" faith

Indulge a few scattered thoughts on this Friday afternoon?

One: The Little Sisters of the Poor need some financial help-- and if the Anchoress likes 'em, you know they do good work.

Two: Saint Gabriel Possenti remains a frontrunner for the coveted (?) designation of "patron saint of handgunners." As the web site to which I linked points out, "St. Gabriel Possenti was a Catholic seminarian whose marksmanship and proficiency with handguns single-handedly saved the village of Isola, Italy from a band of 20 terrorists in 1860." Possenti didn't even have to kill the terrorists.

Three: On a more personal note, this morning I got my new car blessed. It's a used car, and has been for 10 years, but it's new to me. When I walked into the parish office asking if a priest was available to bless the car, nobody said "what are you talking about?" or threw me funny looks.

The secretary said that one priest was on vacation, and another was in a meeting, but Monsignor Tim overheard her, walked into the office with a smile, and said "that's alright, I'd be happy to bless his car." He asked how I was doing and how Jane was doing, then fetched a book of blessings and a vial of holy water before walking me out to where I had parked. The blessing he used was short and heartfelt, praising Jesus and asking God's protection on "all who use this vehicle." I feel safer already.

Summer swimming and visitors

Our friend Brigette and her daughter Elizabeth arrived safely from New Mexico last night while Thomas and other neighborhood kids were competing in the last swim meet of the season. Our team lost, but it was a good meet, anyhow. And it's great to have Brigette in town for a week.

One to bookmark for healthcare policy

Found this site thanks to Nice Deb, and it's a good one: Betsy McCaughey's "Defend Your Health Care." McCaughey actually reads the bills that many legislators fob off on their interns.

Slogging toward routine

Insurance and transportation issues are taking longer to settle after last month's accident than we had thought they would on the rare occasions when we gave those things a thought, but I will be driving used wheels soon.

Meanwhile, Jane continues to astound us with her resilience. The scars on her head remain red, and will not likely fade for months. To help cope with that (and at my darling wife's suggestion, if memory serves), Jane now wears her hair in bangs more often than she used to. How or whether the scars will affect her confidence and self-image is something that Cathleen and I both worry about.

The shorter cast has lived up to its promise. With her right elbow free again, Jane picked up her violin for the fist time since June 15 today, and was even able to play a little, although her bowing technique must work around the rigidity of the cast until maybe mid-August.

Brother Thomas is the family pianist. He sometimes grouses about the classical and jazz exercises that his no-nonsense-but-heart-of-gold piano teacher has prescribed, even while burning through them at flank speed.

Jane, more freewheeling at the piano because it's not her primary instrument, was yesterday playing the bass line for "Heart and Soul" in perfect tempo. Afterward, with more hesitation, she plinked her way through a simple one-handed treble version of "Amazing Grace." I almost missed hearing that, because I was still marveling at the fluidity of what she did for "Heart and Soul," even with her dominant hand in a cast. Perhaps having her right hand immobilized for six weeks will make her ambidextrous. She certainly has no trouble punchiing her brother!

Family friend Brigette (who is also Thomas's godmother) will be coming tomorrow night with one of her daughters to visit for a week, and we're quite looking forward to that. Sadly, we don't have a front porch where she can drink mint juleps; just a few stairs on a front stoop. But we aim to please!

Headline writer misses boat

From James Taranto's "Best of the Web Today" column at the Wall Street Journal Online:

“Pope ‘Can’t Pray’ With Wrist in Plaster,” reads a headline from Agence France-Presse reports. But the story doesn’t quote anyone saying that Benedict XVI, who suffered a fracture the other day, can’t pray, though the reporter says he currently lacks the ability “to clasp his hands together in prayer.”

Our guess is that the pope--who is something of an expert on the subject--knows a few tricks for hands-free praying.

For the 40th moon landing anniversary

I linked to Tom Wolfe writing about NASA's role and future over the weekend, but here's a nice companion piece from Jay Barbree debunking some conspiracy theories. Paul Beston also remembers the event.

Legendary NASA flight director Gene "Failure is not an option" Kranz also has some words of wisdom worth hearing.

And if you haven't yet read Homer Hickam's Rocket Boys (October Sky) or Tom Wolfe's The Right Stuff, you should treat yourself to those nonfiction classics.

Not like a bottle

Because it's been too long since I've linked to Cassandra, and because her links to information on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder deserve more attention. My post title is an analogy for the mind coined by one of her correspondents:

"Recovery is possible. But as long as soldiers and Marines - often young, insufficiently skeptical, utterly reliant on authority - are told by everyone around them that the mind is like a bottle, and that once it breaks, you can piece it together again, but it'll never be as strong - as long as that's the social message, there's little hope for full recovery. But the mind isn't a bottle. It's a bone. Once it heals, it grows stronger, more resilient. We need to change the message to reflect the possibility of being strengthened by PTSD in the long run."

On to Mars?

Tom Wolfe on what it would take to recharge NASA.

The perks of Korean Cultural Camp

The kids made mandoo (dumplings) and the adults were treated to a chef's lesson in how to prepare bibimbap, but I still like the melon bars best.

A better way to think of eternity

"Eternity does not stand by the side of time, quite unrelated to it; it is the creatively supporting power of all time, which encompasses passing time in its own present and thus gives it the ability to be. It is not timelessness, but dominion over time. As the Today that is contemporary with all ages, it can also make its influence felt in any age."

also:

"God is not the prisoner of his eternity; in Jesus he has time --for us, and Jesus is thus in actual fact the 'throne of grace' to which at any time we can "with confidence draw near." (Heb. 4:16)

Both quotes are from Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger's Introduction to Christianity.

You're welcome.

Silver linings

Things have been crazy busy around the Paragraph Farm lately, and we're still running a multitude of errands associated with accident recovery, including trying to get a replacement car squared away, and talking with insurance adjustors, doctors, physical therapists, etc.

Fortunately, Greg Kandra has good, amazingly little-known stuff up about Apollo 11 (Buzz Aldrin was carrying the Reserved Sacrament? Whoa, Nelly!). He also captured Senator Tom Coburn's cogent remarks about the "schizophrenic rule of the law" that got that way out of misplaced deference to the sentiments of abortion lobbyists.

Elsewhere in the parts of the blogosphere I visit regularly, the Anchoress starts a disconcerting catchall post with the pointed observation that President Obama intends to have more czars than Baskin-Robbins has ice cream flavors (the analogy is mine, not hers, but I bet you know what I mean).

Sister Toldjah is still knocking them out of the park. She almost always does. "Forced sterilization fruitcake?" That's funny and accurate. I wish I'd thought of it!

We need people like ST around and blogging brilliantly because otherwise the president and his acolytes (yes, that's exactly what they are) would have unfettered access to the dictionaries they've already abused even more than most politicians do.

David Warren has a useful column out discussing this scenario in terms of "earthlings" and "martians." He also doffs a cap to Sarah Palin's recent and feisty op-ed against the president's "cap and trade" energy initiatives.

(When somebody at The Atlantic carps that "Palin wrote a 700-word takedown of cap-and-trade that did not include the words pollution, emissions, carbon, or global warming," then you know she hit a nerve. Why the Atlantic guy thinks those omissions weakened her piece, I don't know. I'd trust her take on global warming more than his).

On a more delicious (chocolate-covered) note, Happy Friday. I'm looking forward to the "accidental chocolate" (at the link) that "could be in shops within two years," thanks to the ingenuity of Swiss food scientists.

Kimchee, Bulgogi, and Banana Pudding

Everything in the post title was on the dinner menu tonight at a day camp in Raleigh sponsored by a local Korean Christian association (Truth to tell, Banana Pudding and Dr. Pepper go with almost anything south of the Mason-Dixon line). Thomas and Jane had attended only one day of the same camp last year, but this year we signed them up for the full gig.

Yes, Jane can go to day camp, too! Camp activity does not appear to involve concentrating on any one thing over an extended period. Hooray!

She's not allowed to jump around, but she can play running games with other children if she's careful. She's been good about wearing a baseball cap to protect the suture lines in her head whenever she's outdoors.

Earlier this week, the full-length cast on her right arm was changed out for a short cast that protects only her forearm and wrist. The bonus (besides Jane being able to flex her right elbow again) is that the cast is waterproof.

Book Review: West Oversea

West Oversea, by Lars Walker (Noble Novels 2009) has more than its share of magic, and at first, I thought Walker was cheating. Would the Eye of Odin that Father Aillil is asked to dispose of in approximately the Year of Our Lord 1002 become as troublesome a bauble as the Ring of Power that nearly up-ended J.R.R. Tolkien's Middle Earth? Would the blood and iron proper to a Viking saga take a back seat to psychological adventures of the kind written by Ursula K. Le Guin? Might a promising tale shipwreck on the iceberg of "magical realism" where Gabriel Garcia Marquez reclines with the tote bag he got from a pledge drive on National Public Radio?

I need not have worried. Without quite rising to "Gates of Fire" levels, Walker delivers the goods. Scandinavian mythology plays an important role in this novel, but like the late Tony Hillerman did for Navajo detectives in the American Southwest, Walker uses otherworldly elements (such as a shape-shifting villain) to shed light on the strengths and weaknesses of his characters, most prominently Father Aillil, the Irish priest who narrates the story, and his friend Erling Skjalgsson, chief man of west Norway.

This chronicle of a voyage that ranges from Norway to Iceland, Greenland, and the hitherto-uncharted lands that would later become parts of Canada is set in motion by two things: Erling's unusual willingness to peacefully surrender most of his landholdings to a rival with a stronger (by dint of battle and inheritance) claim, and Fr. Aillil's ardent wish to find and free his enslaved sister Maeve (she's a thrall, actually, but "enthralled" does not have the meaning it once did).

Walker adeptly uses several characters to describe the tug-of-war between pagan and Christian (Catholic) impulses throughout Northern Europe in that era.

Although West Oversea is part of a series of novels that Walker calls "romances" in the older sense of the term, it can also be enjoyed by people whose only previous exposure to Vikings in fiction comes from the more-determinedly-secular stories of Bernard Cornwell. Some previous exposure to Vikings in literature provides a useful yardstick for measuring how well Walker succeeds as a historical novelist, which in my opinion is well enough to belong to the "A" team, a little shy of Jeff Schaara, but shoulder-to-shoulder with Ellis Peters and her Brother Cadfael boooks.

I chuckled at the artistry of one scene where Father Aillil's German bishop mocks the Irish priest's uncertain grasp of ecclesiastical protocol by saying that "It took you Irish long enough to learn the proper date for Easter and how to shave a decent tonsure." In a response that only readers are privileged to hear, Fr. Aillil thinks, "I might have replied that the Irish brought the faith to the Germans, but I thought it wiser to hold my tongue."

Per the dictates of medieval hospitality and the rigors of sail-powered travel in the North Atlantic at the turn of the first Christian millenium, Walker's characters spend more of the story ashore than at sea, but he handles geographical and maritime detail as deftly as he handles the finer points of combat in a shield wall. The relationship between the letter of the law and the spirit of the law is a main theme of this novel, and that, too, is handled well, with unforced philosophizing sandwiched between home truths like "A man is known by the greatness of his foes," and "The law is like a sword; it can be well- or ill-balanced."

My criticisms of the book are minor. It does not rise to epic levels, but only because Walker did not aim that high. Beyond that, the women in this story have little to do. One might also argue that there are more characters throughout the narrative than necessary, although Walker has wit enough to make the tangle of relationships a running joke for his Irish priest, who lets his own exasperation with Icelandic focus on geneology show several times. Moreover, Walker and his editors do identify key character names and relationships in a helpful list that appears where a preface would be.

Quibbles aside, if the measure of an author is the literary company he keeps, I can't remember another book review of mine that name-checked such an all-star writing team. It's not often that any one author is refreshingly original enough to evoke comparisons to Le Guin, Hillerman. Cornwell, Schaara, and Peters, especially because most of them never sat on a bench in a Viking hall telling sea stories. I hope it's plain that Walker ranks with fast company, and West Oversea is more than good enough to make me want to read his other work. Erling is an honest merchant who can also fight, and Father Aillil, though frequently seasick, is excellent company. You'll want to follow them around, and cheer them on.

(N.B: The original version of this post incorrectly referred to William Goldman as a writer of historical fiction, but on reflection, I realize that the novel I had in mind while thinking of him belongs to the fantasy or "alternate history" genre).

Sic transit gloria mundi

Back in 2005, I linked from a post here to the online (White House) archive of a speech that then-president Bush made to Naval Academy cadets at Annapolis, Md. The president was talking then about American efforts to support Iraqi currency.

The link worked at the time, but much of what the previous administration did in Iraq has apparently been consigned to offline archives, because www.whitehouse.gov/infocus/Iraq/iraq_strategy_nov2005.html now yields this Obamanian boilerplate:

"The President arrived facing an unprecedented array of challenges, and has met them with a bold, comprehensive plan. He passed the most ambitious recovery package in history to address the economic crisis. He kept faith with the American people through a government that is open, transparent, and accountable. And he restored America's alliances abroad, as well as our American values here at home."

That strikes me as an oddly self-congratulatory statement, notable for its past tense (when, exactly, did President Obama keep faith with the American people?), its lack of nuance, and its cloying assumption that American alliances and values were both in the dumpster before a junior Senator from Illinois came along to salvage them. Other people have already disposed of that vaunted "transparency" canard. "Sunshine before signing" bills into law went the way of the dodo bird (of course), not just once, but "six ways from Sunday," as it were.

As to spackle or structural work on American alliances...hmmm...Abet the French in snubbing the queen of England for D-Day celebrations? That was an exercise in "alliance restoration." Meddle for the wrong people in Honduras? Send terrorists to Palau? Give Gordon Brown DVDs he can't watch? Same deal.

I suspect that verbiage on the White House web site is not so much a selective documentary record of executive branch doings as it was under previous administrations with a Web presence, but a warehouse full of phrases for various flunkies to use in crafting mendacious op-eds that support Obama policies.

(Jack Cashill, Robert Stacy McCain, and other pundits who enjoy a well-turned phrase keep pointing out that our president is perhaps a competent writer but by no stretch of the imagination a good writer. Sadly, few people seem to listen).

The mendacity is not alone. Somebody is sure to pipe up about how erstwhile Vice President Dick Cheney lied to Congress, as he may well have done (though the case against him is weak). Lying is something every politician has at least passable skill at, and most political appointees -- like John Holdren -- also learn. But the administration that waltzed into power selling "hope and change" as the preferred alternative to a "more of the same" ticket topped by a not-all-that-Republican candidate has raised (or lowered) the bar to levels that liars like Richard Nixon could only dream of.

This willingness to play fast and loose with the truth is not confined to foreign affairs, where President Obama just tried to rewrite the history of the Cold War in front of a Russian audience.

I question some of President Obama's high-profile hires, including Holdren, Jennifer Daskal, Steven Rattner, and vocabulary-challenged Supreme Court nominee Sotomayor, she of the "muddled and confusing" testimony.

Sober-minded pastors, economists like Brad Delong from reliable bastions of Democratic support (Berkeley, for crying out loud), and small business owners are also scratching their heads over this administration's economic and health care reform policies. The administration itself is pretending it never promised everybody a full and free cookie jar.

If you missed the discussion at HotAir on the difference between OODA loops and PIDDLE loops as it relates to the president's preferred governing style, it's a must-read. There's more to what Obama does than "Why can't I just eat my waffle?," but -- sadly -- not a lot more.

Did you know that the number of U.S. companies in the world's top 500 is now at its lowest level ever? Has anybody asked Robert Gibbs or his boss to explain why? Personally, I want to hear what "Sheriff Joe" Biden says-- that's almost guaranteed to be blog fodder!

(the original post has been updated with more hyperlinks as evidence to buttress the assertions here continues to roll in)

Healing things and museum movie fun

Jane just made the medically-approved transition from prescription antibiotic to an over-the-counter substitute applied externally. She's also been a good sport about those few times I've cut vitamin E capsules in half to apply the gel inside to the suture lines on her head, although she's sure that the gel involved is really "fish poop."

Cathleen and Thomas went to the aquarium in Myrtle Beach for some overdue mother-son time together. Left to our own devices awhile, Jane and I treated ourselves to gelato and a movie. The movie was Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian, and we both recommend it as a lot of fun.

I liked this movie even more than the original Night at the Museum, because Amy Adams makes an adorable Amelia Earhart. Hank Azaria as the Egyptian ruler Kahmunrah, and Bill Hader as General George Armstrong Custer, are also fun to watch. Jane's favorite scenes involved Albert Einstein bobble-heads.

Professional reviewers have not been especially kind to this movie. I think most of them have been too long in the saddle. At least the LA Times critic noticed that Adams' patter and delivery made her sound sometimes like a sweeter version of the young Katharine Hepburn.

Hägar the Not-So-Horrible?

I'm thinking of Dik Browne's comic strip warrior rather than Abraham's second wife, because Lars Walker suggests that American law owes more to Hägar and his seafaring kind from Norway and Denmark than is commonly acknowledged.

Book Review: Thank God Ahead of Time

Thank God Ahead of Time: The Life and Spirituality of Solanus Casey is an engaging biography of the humble Capuchin friar and Wisconsin native likely to become the first canonized male saint born in the United States. Author Michael H. Crosby, himself a Capuchin friar, has done his homework on Casey (1870 – 1957).

This biography –- now in its third edition -– describes the arc of Casey’s life in only 256 pages. Crosby quotes often from Casey’s correspondence, and sprinkles his narrative with anecdotes gleaned from interviews with those who knew him, not least the Capuchin author and EWTN mainstay, Fr. Benedict Groeschel.

In the pages of this bioography, we meet a pious Catholic of Irish descent who worked as a streetcar conductor and prison guard before entering religious life. Crosby suggests that Casey’s alleged intellectual deficits were not significant, and probably had much to do with the difficulty that almost any speaker of American English would have when studying theology in German and Latin rather than in his native tongue. Excerpts from Casey’s correspondence bolster that assertion, because Casey’s writing is straightforward, although more verbose than we are accustomed to seeing three generations later, when people tweet each other and the postal service looks for ways to close underperforming branch offices.

Any man who plays the fiddle for Jesus in front of the Blessed Sacrament at what others might call “ungodly” hours, as Casey did throughout Capuchin Franciscan friaries of New York, Michigan, and Indiana, is a man after my own heart.

Casey’s “mystic in action” approach to life involved total surrender to Christ. Accordingly, Casey was also an instrument of many healing miracles for the people around him, which Crosby treats in a refreshingly matter-of-fact way. Casey also worked miracles after his death, including at least one that Amy Welborn’s late husband blogged movingly about.

Crosby does a good job of describing Casey’s enthusiasm for enrolling people in the Seraphic Mass Association to support Capuchin missions. He also notes that Casey was a great fan of the devotional writings of the original “Blue Nun,” Mary of Agreda, (d. 1665). In fact, the English translation of Mary of Agreda’s Mystical City of God made such a positive first impression that over the course of his life, Casey nearly memorized that biography of the mother of Jesus by one of her namesakes.

You may be wondering if Crosby’s affectionate portrait of Casey has any flaws, and the answer is yes, Thank God Ahead of Time drags in some places. This occasional want of craft would be surprising, given that Crosby has more than a dozen other books to his credit, but when writing about Solanus Casey, the temptation to hagiography over which Crosby sometimes trips is understandable. Crosby sugarcoats Casey’s fierce opposition to anti-Irish policies of the British government, and struggles with mid-century (pre-Vatican II) Catholic piety. His detachment from that sensibility is evident, for example, in the awkwardness with which he notes that Capuchins used to observe the custom of kissing the floor whenever they crossed the space in front of a tabernacle.

Anyone who has not read masterworks like Donald Spoto’s Reluctant Saint: The Life of Francis of Assisi and Peter Ackroyd’s The Life of Thomas More might be more forgiving of the lapses that keep Thank God Ahead of Time from having the same “you are there” feel that classic biographies of the first rank do.

The best feature of Thank God Ahead of Time is a thirty-page chapter on the spirituality of Solanus Casey that closes the book. This alloy of Franciscan charism and Casey's own outlook is (as the book title implies) a simple spirituality of profound gratitude, and there is much there for any Christian to emulate.

Crosby hits a double rather than a home run. But in spite of its leisurely pacing and now-you-see-it, now-you-don't detatchment, this is a biography that I will happily share with the other members of a bible study group to which I belong, and I do recommend it.

Warm smell of colitas rising up through the air?

Iowahawk sends a dispatch from the "funeral for California."

I like his thought of Nevada and Oregon as "band mates" for the Golden State.

If the post title rings a (mission) bell, then you'll also like this explication from Cecil "Straight Dope" Adams.

My whippersnapper

Thomas and I were playing with the satellite radio in a rental car. On the All Elvis station (yes, there is one), he said, "So why was this guy famous again?" But then we heard Jerry Lee Lewis burning through an arpeggio on the "Classic Vinyl" station, and Thomas let go with a "Hmmm...Good piano playing!"

Weigel rarely but now really wrong

Damian Thompson says George Weigel's reaction to Caritas in Veritate is intemperate and arrogant. I like Weigel's writing most of the time, but Thompson is absolutely right.

Thompson quotes from a very helpful analysis in the Catholic Herald ("Pope Benedict puts God at the heart of globalisation"), and then notes that we readers are free to decide whether the Herald analysis is more accurate than Weigel's.

Thompson also explains why Weigel has earned his own pique:

"But what does annoy me is Weigel’s repeated insistence that the good bits of Caritas in Veritate reflect Pope Benedict’s thinking, while the clunky social justice material was imposed on him:

(quoting Wiegel) Benedict XVI, a truly gentle soul, may have thought it necessary to include in his encyclical these multiple off-notes, in order to maintain the peace within his curial household.

(Thompson's rejoinder) That is incredibly patronising to the Holy Father. How does Weigel know? And how dare he accuse Benedict XVI -- a Pope who has bravely grappled with a crisis of worship neglected by his liturgically tone-deaf predecessor -- of what amounts to intellectual cowardice?"

Good for Thompson for calling Weigel on that arrogance. And as a commentator whose nom de plume is Athanasius says following Thompson's essay, "I can’t help feeling that Weigel rushed out his piece without giving the encyclical careful consideration. Surely a closer reading reveals that the Pope’s arguments transcend exactly what Weigel is complaining about?"

Commentator Terry adds helpful advice: "Calm down, everybody, Pope Benedict has not sold out to the Left."

UPDATE: I also like what The Anchoress has to say about the encyclical.

Recovery notes

If there were a prominent flower around the Paragraph Farm in recent days, it would probably be the impatiens (ha! I crack myself up).

I was able to do a few pullups yesterday, but found myself tapped out after less than half the number I used to do, although it felt good to be able to use both arms again. My back, while never unusually supple, still feels stiffer than it should.

Jane is tired of wearing a cast that goes past her elbow, and anxious to move up to a cast that leaves her elbow free, as we hope will happen next week. The stitches on her head continue to look a little better each day. There are lots of unanswered questions about the long-term effects of injury that we might see, but we appreciate progress of any kind, and that has certainly continued.

Thomas is jealous of the attention that his sister has gotten. We're proud of him for 'fessing up to that, and he'll get some time alone with mom this coming weekend. This week, he's been going to a day camp that we had originally signed both children up for. Between that and schmoozing with his pals on the neighborhood swim team, he has outlets for lots of that 11-year-old energy.

He and a friend talked me into seeing X Men Origins: Wolverine the other day, at the local theater where films go after their first runs are done. That was a mistake. "There's hardly any blood, Dad," could with equal justice have been rendered as "there's hardly any plot, Dad."

Chef Boyardee, Aunt Jemina, and the Sun-Maid Raisin hottie pay more attention to moral issues than the makers of this Wolverine movie did.

From a strictly tactical point of view, what kind of moron abandons level ground in a brawl with an evenly-matched opponent for a perch on the narrow concrete lip of the cooling tower in a nuclear reactor? Even Spider-Man doesn't fight hundreds of feet up in the air unless he has to. The fight scenes in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon were more believable. Wolverine obviously ignored Bill Murray's "don't drive angry" advice to Phil the Groundhog.

I did notice one thing that lots of professional movie reviewers seemed to miss: Hugh Jackman apparently played his comic book character as an homage to early Eastwood. Jackman's scowl and windblown hair were throwbacks to the Clint look of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly and For a Few Dollars More. Jackman smoked a full-size cigar rather than a cheroot, but that, too, was homage to Clint, even without the poncho or serape. And the gorgeous vistas of the Canadian Rockies in this Wolverine movie looked like outtakes from "late Clint" (Pale Rider and, to a lesser extent, Unforgiven).

A sober assessment of the meeting in Moscow

Ralph Peters, who knows a thing or two about national security matters:

Moscow knows we aren't going to start a nuclear war with Russia. Putin (forget poor "President" Dmitry Medvedev) wants to gut our conventional capabilities to stage globe-spanning military operations. He wants to cut us down to Russia's size.

Our problem is that many nuclear-delivery systems -- such as bombers or subs -- are "dual-use": A B-2 bomber can launch nukes, but it's employed more frequently to deliver conventional ordnance.

Putin sought to cripple our ability to respond to international crises. Obama, meanwhile, was out for "deliverables" -- deals that could be signed in front of the cameras. Each man got what he wanted.

Meanwhile, Al "single issue" Gore is still looking for the ice cream store. I'm guessing the Russians -- God love 'em -- aren't impressed with him, either. (See the link at Hot Air if the Al Gore story was needlessly sanitized to remove Nazi references that Gore himself made).

Caritas in Veritate text and reax

An encyclical letter that I haven't yet had a chance to think about was released today. If you haven't already seen Amy Welborn for her initial reaction and context, her blog is a good place to start.

Rocco Palmo also has a cleanly formatted version of the letter on his blog, if, as sometimes happens, the parchment look of the Vatican web site makes for difficult reading.

Benedict is old -- no doubt about that. But nobody refers to him as an "interim" pope any more, as some people once thought he might be, given his age and the unusual length of his predecessor's papacy.

Art project last night

We like fireworks. And I like this essay by Robert Higgs, who is more libertarian than I am, but right about English in the San Joaquin Valley (and elsewhere, frankly). Higgs is not a physicist, as far as I know.

A thankful piece

Here's to untitled "community organizers," meaning the people who help others. Their concern is to lend a hand rather than to shape the narrative of events. Thank God for them.

Re celebrating the Fourth of July, I also like this from Gerard Van der Leun.

Early summer morning

Not our house, but near it, and the dogs like the walk through the woods. This Emily Dickenson poem via Cassandra also fits the photo very nicely.

Something to shoot for

When my left arm comes off "limited duty," I want to get back into shape enough to do this workout, which I call "Cyndi" because it's a modified Crossfit "Cindy." I suspect it will take awhile.

I first made this workout up in June of 2007 while trying to make good use of adjacent exercise stations in the park near my house:

3 rounds:
5 pullups
10 pushups
15 squats

Then (no break):
100M walking lunges
15 bench jumps
15 hollow rocks
15 Supermans
15 pushups
15 burpees
400M run
15 bar dips
15 situps
400M run
15 spring ups
15 pushups

Total time: 23:00 (in 2007); I'll take anything under 26:00 as an accomplishment worth savoring.