Noteworthy entries.
Last night, All Hallows Eve, I heard the doorbell ring (yet again). A tightly packed crowd of small costumed individuals were clustered on my porch wearing eager expressions, and all holding bags or other containers. As I opened the door, the tallest "kid" dressed all in brown reached over the…
My computer is running a fever. The central processor overheats and shuts the system down. After a day of emails with the support center, and then a phone call of which only half the time was on hold, they admitted that the probable causes are under warranty. So I sit…
Here's how it went. Worth a look and a laugh.
On a lark, I looked up celibacy as it pertains to Roman Catholic priests. OK, not on a lark. I am a recovering Catholic, 35 years in remission. But back to my story. I had heard that many priests are actually married. I wanted to know more. Here’s what about.com has to say:
…You aren’t likely to hear a great deal about married Roman Catholic priests, but they do exist. First there are the priests who are part of the Eastern Catholic Churches, also known as the Eastern Rite, who can be found in places like the Czech Republic, Hungary, Slovakia, the Ukraine, and other nations along the border between Western and Eastern Christianity. These churches are under the jurisdiction of the Vatican and they recognize the authority of the pope; however, their practices and traditions are much closer to those of the Eastern Orthodox Churches, and one of those traditions is allowing priests to marry.
They are Roman Catholic priests and many are married – so many, in fact, that some estimates place their number at around 20% of all Roman Catholic priests in the world. This would mean that 20% of all Roman Catholic priests are officially and legally married, even though celibacy continues to be a requirement. But marriage is not limited to priests who are part of the Eastern Catholic Churches – we can also find about 100 Catholic priests in America who are married and who are part of the Western Catholicism that comes
It was after dark. I was walking to my hotel in a big intimidating city, Chicago. Then I turned a corner and I saw them. I was so horrified I almost retched. I kept my composure, though, and called the police.
While I waited, I forced myself to glance again. All of those poor people had been decapitated. Rigor mortis had set in, keeping them in their lifelike positions. Their skin was blanched. But as I stood there, trembling, several young adults strolled by and they didn’t even look concerned. In fact, they were laughing . . . partying! Joking! Such a grotesque insensitivity to the plight of others! Such an unseemly juxtaposition! But what was that over to the right? I spun around and I saw even more victims.
I shook as I took these photos, constantly looking over my shoulder in case the fiends who committed all of these murders might return to decapitate me.