The First (or second, depends on how you count) Day of Christmas

I started this series about two years ago and added more last year. Maybe this year I'll finish it.
Blessings to you, my two or three readers.

On the first day of Christmas. . .
The presents have all been opened, paper sheddings cover the floor. I’m still stuffed from last night’s turkey—now what? From the day after Thanksgiving until Christmas Eve ooey-gooey songs, presents, food and frenzy are all concentrated on every observant American who tries desperately to manufacture the long-gone feelings of a long-gone childhood.
Empty boxes—empty hearts. Fill them with the rocks that stoned Stephen or unpack my heart and give something to someone who doesn’t have much now that they’re forgotten once more since Christmas has passed.

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Worth Quoting

There are but three social arrangements which can replace Capitalism: Slavery, Socialism, and Property. --Hilaire Belloc ...

Good reads of 2009

I haven't made a list like this in a while, and I believe I discussed most of these on the blog as I finished them, but I thought I'd make a handy short-hand list for you and me. These are only in the order I read them and do not indicate any preference. The Open Door * Frederica Mathewes-Green The Children of Hurin * J.R.R. Tolkien The Omnivore's Dilemma * Michael Pollan Agrarianism and the Good Society: Land, Culture, Conflict, and Hope * Eric T. Freyfogle Wonderful Fool * Shusaku Endo Up the Rouge: Paddling Detroit's Hidden River * Joel Thurtell and Patricia Beck Johnny Cash and the Great American Contradiction: Christianity and the Battle for the Soul of a Nation * Rodney Clapp (I started the following in December, but I haven't finished them--so far they are excellent: Love and Hate in Jamestown * David A. Price and The Picture of Dorian Gray * Oscar Wilde) Try one of these--let me know.

Gaudete, dammit!

I was not at my home church for mass this morning (not that I feel like I have a home church since becoming Popish), but nevertheless my mood was buoyant. After all, how could it not be. Here we were standing as brothers and sisters commemorating one of the top five greatest events in the history of reality: the Incarnation. Yet looking out and listening to the participation of my Roman brothers and sisters, one would think that something less than mundane had happened. Something BORING, even. We gathered to remember the God of the universe condescending to take on human dress and all we can do is half-heartedly sing and mumble ancient creeds that people died for? I remained buoyant despite the lack of mutual awe. Annie Dillard said waggishly that when people go to church they ought to be wearing crash helmets. Do they really know who or what they are summoning? Something more terrible, me...

I Am Not Hamlet

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