I am making some cosmetic changes to the site, mostly in terms of color scheme. More will follow, most likely.
UPDATE: Still to come: proper heraldry--for now I have only my shield's partition, but it is otherwise unblazon'd. I shall also try to make a place for reader comments--another occasionally requested feature--and a biography, since some of you want that. If you have other requests, email.
This week I'm voting for The War Journal for political entry. The link appears to be messed up, so if you go, you'll have to dig around to find the good parts. The nonpolitical entries, er, don't really merit a vote.
BBC Radio 4 has given us one of the great lines of political history:
It was trailed as a "unique chance to rewrite the law of the land". Listeners to BBC Radio 4's Today programme were asked to suggest a piece of legislation to improve life in Britain, with the promise that an MP would then attempt to get it onto the statute books."The people have spoken... the bastards." I love it. Of course, our Mandarin friend was not done explaining his disdain for the electorate:But yesterday, 26,000 votes later, the winning proposal was denounced as a "ludicrous, brutal, unworkable blood-stained piece of legislation" - by Stephen Pound, the very MP whose job it is to try to push it through Parliament.
Mr Pound's reaction was provoked by the news that the winner of Today's "Listeners' Law" poll was a plan to allow homeowners "to use any means to defend their home from intruders" - a prospect that could see householders free to kill burglars, without question.
"The people have spoken," the Labour MP replied to the programme, "... the bastards."
Having recovered his composure, Mr Pound told The Independent: "We are going to have to re-evaluate the listenership of Radio 4. I would have expected this result if there had been a poll in The Sun. Do we really want a law that says you can slaughter anyone who climbs in your window?""We are going to have to re-evaluate the listenership of Radio 4." This, after he had recovered his composure. Can you imagine a Congressman saying, "We are going to have to re-evaluate the listenership of NPR"?
As for the last part of the question, yes, that is what they really want. And rightly so. No one accidentally climbs into your house, and there are very limited circumstances under which someone doing so means anything but harm to you and your family.
The whole thing brings to mind another piece of British journalism which I mentioned here in August, Aidian Hartley's "How to Kill a Burglar" from the London Spectator. In any event, kudos to Mr. Pound for his keen wit, and shame on him for his "principles," which are both antidemocratic--respectable in a Lord, but absurd in a member of the House of Commons--and directly opposed to one of the fundamental rights of Men. The defense of those rights is the business of liberal government. Indeed, it is the whole business. Explaining morality to the people is neither part of the duty of government, nor a welcome addition.
I may be the only American citizen who led a toast to the Queen of England last night. It was the third, and last, of our New Years' toasts (conducted at Grim's Hall with sparkling, but nonalcoholic, apple cider. This is a kindness offered to Mrs. Grim, who doesn't care for alcohol's flavor).
It may seem the odder given that I am a Jacobite. But I have reason.
On September 13, 2001, 187 years after it was written, the reigning Queen of England ordered that "The Star Spangled Banner" be played at Buckingham Palace for the mid-day changing of the guard, as a memorial to the people killed in the terrorist attacks early that week in the U.S. On September 14, 187 years to the day after Francis Scott Key wrote the first draft of the song, the Queen asked that it be sung at the memorial service at St. Paul's Cathedral.Not only did she ask that it be sung, she sang it. She had learned the words by heart.
Long live the Queen, and have a happy New Year.
I have placed a friendly wager with a young liberal of my association on the outcome of the upcoming Presidential election. I am offering her 2-1 on this proposition, which is probably still theft on my part, but is better than she asked.
Proposition: Howard Dean will be elected President of the United States in 2004.
Forfeit if the proposition is true: I will provide the girl in question a week's worth of Slurpees and nachos, and donate $60 US Dollars to the charity of her choice, i.e., AllBreed Pet Rescue. (An aside--these are good people who do good work, and I should be only too happy to donate to them in any case.)
Forfeit if the proposition is false: She will provide me with a week's worth of beer, and furthermore, she will donate $30 to the charity of my choice, i.e., The National Rifle Association.
We shall see how it plays out. As soon as the results are in, I'll post a note on the blog to let you know who's paying up.
Holiday Message from the Chairman, Joint Chiefs of Staff:
HOLIDAY GREETING 2003Message received. Happy New Year.
For generations, US Service men and women and government civilians have spent the holiday season far from loved ones, so that all Americans can celebrate the peace, prosperity and liberty that our Armed Forces have fought to protect.Today, you continue to keep steadfast watch across the globe, from bases on land, planes overhead, and aboard ships at sea; from distant, remote locations, and within our own borders.
During this holiday season, the United States is asking much of you -- and you are responding with a strong sense of duty, a willingness to give up personal comfort for the greater good, and the professionalism that has earned our military services honor and respect throughout the world. It is never easy to be away from home, but especially during the holiday season, the courage, patriotism and unconditional support of families and loved ones mean so very much.
Your service and the sacrifices of your families come at a crucial moment in our Nation's history. Your dedicated work is making the world a better, safer, and more peaceful place. I am inspired by your character and courage, and am extremely proud to serve with you. The Joint Chiefs of Staff join me in sending to you and your families our very warmest wishes for a wonderful holiday season.
RICHARD B. MYERS
Chairman
of the Joint Chiefs of Staff
Without doubt, the greatest American artist to die this year was Johnny Cash. Here find a moving elegy to him, "Johnny of the Cross". It may be the best thing I've ever read about the man.
On his final album, he was teaching us how to die. And in a culture that by and large loves death but does not know what to do with it--a culture simultaneously repulsed and attracted by i--Johnny's confrontation with his own imminent demise was largely misunderstood. The critics who complained that his voice was not what it used to be missed the point entirely. It is precisely because his voice was not what it used to be that the songs have such power. The beauty of the record lies in that very frailty, the tremolo in his voice that became more pronounced with each album. Even in his younger days, the inimitable strength and fortitude in his voice was mixed with the occasional moment of weakness, the odd quaver and show of vulnerability. In the last few years those moments became more frequent, and his voice became more diaphonous, disclosing more of the effects of illness.Hat tip: Arts & Letters Daily.Yet for that very reason, Cash's voice was all the more beautiful--it had a weakness stronger than others' strengths.
The FBI has released an unclassified, but redacted, version of its audit on intelligence sharing with other counterterrorist agencies (PDF warning):
The Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) has established as its highest priority the prevention of terrorist attacks on the United States. The accomplishment of this critical national security mission requires the FBI to collect, analyze, and appropriately disseminate intelligence and other information needed to disrupt or defeat terrorist activities. However, in the past, Congressional inquiries concerning the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks on the United States, reports of commissions examining terrorism before and since September 11, and Office of the Inspector General (OIG) reports have suggested various weaknesses in the FBI's ability to effectively carry out the vital intelligence component of its counterterrorism program.One of the big problems found? When they share information with local police, it ends up in the paper the next day. The local cops are so excited at getting a piece of highly important FBI information, they can't keep their lips together. Exhibit A seems to be those almanacs. What was perhaps a useful piece of intelligence is now being reported even in Pakistani newspapers.As a result, the OIG initiated this audit to review the FBI's progress in addressing deficiencies in the FBI's intelligence-sharing capabilities that the FBI, Congress, the OIG, and others identified subsequent to the September 11 terrorist attacks.
Another holiday tradition, this one not even two hundred years old, is the song "Good King Wenceslas":Good King Wenceslas looked out, On the Feast of Stephen,
The good reader will now ask, of course, who this King Wenceslas was. The particularly astute reader will wonder who St. Stephen was, that his Feast directly follows Christmas. Both questions are answered; follow the links, if you like.
When the snow lay round about,
Deep and crisp and even;
Brightly shone the moon that night,
though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight,
Gathering winter fuel.
Hither, page, and stand by me,
If though know'st it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he?"
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain;
Right against the forest fence,
By Saint Agnes' fountain."
Bring me flesh, and bring me wine,
Bring me pine logs hither;
Thou and I will see him dine,
When we bear them thither."
Page and monarch, forth they went,
Forth they went together;
Thro' the rude wind's wild lament
And the bitter weather.
Sire, the night is darker now,
And the wind blows stronger;
Fails my heart, I know not how,
I can go no longer."
Mark my footsteps, my good page;
Tread thou in them boldly;
Though shalt find the winter's rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly."
In his master's steps he trod,
Where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed.
Therefore, Christian men, be sure,
Wealth or rank possesing,
Ye who now will bless the poor,
Shall yourself find blessing.
If you missed it yesterday, a Yuletide tradition explained.
Waes Hael! Drinc Hael! Merry Christmas, and a fine Yuletide to you all.
From The Ballad of the White Horse by G. K. Chesterton:
Then Alfred laughed out suddenly,
Like thunder in the spring,
Till shook aloud the lintel-beams,
And the squirrels stirred in dusty dreams,
And the startled birds went up in streams,
For the laughter of the King.
And the beasts of the earth and the birds looked down,
In a wild solemnity,
On a stranger sight than a sylph or elf,
On one man laughing at himself
Under the greenwood tree--
The giant laughter of Christian men
That roars through a thousand tales,
Where greed is an ape and pride is an ass,
And Jack's away with his master's lass,
And the miser is banged with all his brass,
The farmer with all his flails;
Tales that tumble and tales that trick,
Yet end not all in scorning--
Of kings and clowns in a merry plight,
And the clock gone wrong and the world gone right,
That the mummers sing upon Christmas night
And Christmas Day in the morning.
"The Knight Before Christmas"
by Robert L. Sheridan
(which I assume he won't mind me sharing, since he posted it on the internet)
'Twas the knight biforn Christmas, whan al thrugh the castle
Nat a creature was stirring, nat even a vassal;
The gauntlets were hung by the hearth with care,
In fear that the Saxons soon wouldst be ther;
The knights were nestled al snug in their bedst,
Whilst visions of battles dancest in their heeds;
And Guenevere in her silver wimple, and I in my helm,
Hadde joust settled adoun for a long winter's realm,
Whenst outen on the motte ther arose swich a clatter,
I sprang from the bedst to see what wast the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a turncoat,
Tore out the bars and threw them into the moat.
The moon on the breast of the fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the serfs living below,
Whenst, what to my wandering eyes should appear - much to my chagrin,
But a battering ram, and eight mean lookyng Saxons,
With a leader, whose terror was so widespread,
I knew in a moment it must be King Alfred.
Moore rapid than boiling oil his soldiers they came,
And he yelled, and shouted, and called hem by nempne;
"Now Botolph! now, Clough!, now Fulke and Heaton!
Onst, Hurst! on Ockley! on Ramsden and Waldgrave!
To the edge of the moat! thurgh the moat!
Now bash away, bash away! bash away al!"
Ast Saxon's that er the winds fly,
Whan hem meetest with an obstacle, mounteth to the sly,
So up to the castle-gate the Saxon-mother's-sons they flewest,
With an assortment of weapons, and King Alfred tooest.
And tho, in a instant, I heard by the castle-gate, the horde
The chopping and hacking of each Saxon's sword.
As I drew my sword, and was trilling around,
Downed the castle-gate King Alfred came liketh a hound.
He was dressed all in chain mail, from his feete to his garrote,
And his chain mail was all rusted from coming thrugh the moat;
A sack of pilfered goodst he had flung on his back,
And he looketh lyk a smuggler joust closing his pack.
His eyes -- how they scowled! his warts how dreary!
His cheeks were lyk haymows, his nose lyk quiteth beery!
His troll lite mouth was drawn up like a crossbow,
And the beard of chin was the colour of soot on the snow;
The stump of a small tree he held tighteth in his teethe,
And the roots it hidde his face, it caused me to grief;
He had a rude face and a bigeth belly,
That shooketh, whenst he laughed atte me, lyk a bowlful of jelly,
He was grubby and quite a lump, a right grievous old elf,
And I laughed when I nicked him, in spite of myself;
In a blinketh of an eye, and a thwart of my deeds,
Anon gave me to knoweth I had been sullied;
He spoketh hou a word, but went bak to his thieving,
And took all the gauntlets; which caused me muche peeving,
And laying his sword aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, out the castle-gate he fled -- unopposed;
He sprang to his horse, to his soldiers gave a yell,
And soone they flew -- they covered the grounds well.
But I herde him calleth, ere he rode out of sight,
"Thonke you for the Yuletide Gifts -- you good-knight!"
Another offers Christmas greetings--an Iraqi:
You see, Jesus (Issa in our language), is not only important to Christians, he (PBU) is also very important to us. Faith is a mystic experience: First there was Feeling, then was the Word and then was the World. In the Bible somewhere it says that Jesus said to his disciples that if they had even an atom of real faith they could move a mountain (Please help in locating the exact quote). This is the mystic essence of faith; anybody with sufficient faith can accomplish miracles. And true faith is a kind of ecstasy, a kind of elation; getting drunk with the heavenly wine.
If you would like to read his homily, you can do so on the Vatican's official site. The closing verse includes this, which strikes me as magnificient:
O Holy Night, so long awaited, which has united God and man for ever! You rekindle our hope. You fill us with ecstatic wonder. You assure us of the triumph of love over hatred, of life over death.For this reason we remain absorbed in prayer.
Reuters is a famously biased news service. Tonight's example is from the Pope's Midnight Mass at the Vatican:
"You come to bring us peace. You are our peace," he said in a homily that was mostly of religious content, recalling the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem.Mostly religious content, you say. On Christmas. From the Pope. Honestly.
We have been enjoying the Yuletide, but for many of us, the only real days of rest are Christmas itself, and perhaps the day after. For some of us, there are no days of rest. This year that is especially true for those defenders of our country, who in a desperate time guard against those who would murder our weakest. I salute my brothers in arms.
This is a time to renew our devotion to old traditions, both Christian and Heathen, as they together make up the Order of the West. Here are some thoughts on Pagan Yule traditions:
For the Vikings, the yule log was an integral part of their celebration of the solstice, the julfest; on the log they would carve runes representing unwanted traits (such as ill fortune or poor honor) that they wanted the gods to take from them.Waes Hael! We know the phrase thanks to Geoffrey of Monmoth's Historia Regum Britanniae. Geoffrey attributed it to the Anglo-Saxons Hengst, Horsa, and Hengst's beautiful daughter Rowen, who caught the eye of Vortigern. That Vortigern is the same one you may have heard about, who according to Arthurian legend invited the Saxons to Britian, and then lost it to them.Wassail comes from the Old English words waes hael, which means "be well," "be hale," or "good health." A strong, hot drink (usually a mixture of ale, honey, and spices) would be put in a large bowl, and the host would lift it and greet his companions with "waes hael," to which they would reply "drinc hael," which meant "drink and be well." Over the centuries some non-alcoholic versions of wassail evolved.
The connection of the phrase "Waes Hael!" to Arthur continued into the 19th century. This is odd in a way, as Arthur was the enemy of the Saxons, and spoke Cymric or Latin. Still, poets who had read Geoffrey of Monmouth in their education put "Waes Hael" with Arthur, and Arthur with England. Thus Robert S. Hawker's "KING ARTHUR'S WAES-HAEL" which begins:
Waes-hael for knight and dame!The proper answer to "Waes Hael!" was "Drinc Hael!" Sir Walter Scott knew that, and used the device in Ivanhoe in the encounter between Friar Tuck and a disguised King Richard Lionheart:
O! merry be their dole;
Drink-hael! in Jesu's name
We fill the tawny bowl;
But cover down the curving crest,
Mould of the orient lady's breast.
The hermit only replied by a grin; and returning to the hutch, he"Waes Hael" became "wassail!" in the Middle English, and there were a number of wassailing ceremonies practiced by the English. The word also became associated with several kinds of festive drinks, often mulled wine or hot, spiced ale. I myself recommend a touch of nutmeg and ginger in a good ale as a suitable wassail. You may heat it if you like--I prefer mine cold. Hot, spiced cider is a good alternative.
produced a leathern bottle, which might contain about four
quarts. He also brought forth two large drinking cups, made out
of the horn of the urus, and hooped with silver. Having made
this goodly provision for washing down the supper, he seemed to
think no farther ceremonious scruple necessary on his part; but
filling both cups, and saying, in the Saxon fashion, "'Waes
hael', Sir Sluggish Knight!" he emptied his own at a draught."'Drink hael', Holy Clerk of Copmanhurst!" answered the warrior,
and did his host reason in a similar brimmer.
Waes Hael! Drinc Hael! Merry Christmas, and a fine Yuletide to you all. Let us gather in our halls and drink like men, to celebrate love and kinship, warmth, and the company of the brave.
From The Command Post, which I finally got around to adding to my blogroll:
Part of discussion over Iraq between U.S. Ambassador in Egypt David Welch and some Al-Ahram Weekly journalists, as reported via FrontPage Magazine :Nevine Khalil: And what if there is democracy in the region and the people decide to elect governments that are not friendly to the US? What would you do about that?Welch: You mean like France?
A publication has stepped forward to defend Howard Dean from the attacks of the "mainstream" press. I'm sure he will be grateful to his new best friend: The World Socialist Web Site.
How does that go again? "Better Dead than Red?" Nothing says "I am too part of the mainstream!" like a few kind words from the World Socialist.
