No new House episodes until November!

Damn you, Major League Baseball! Damn you to hell and back!

Yeah, I know I'll get wrapped up in the playoffs like everyone else, but damn. I just got House back and now...just like that...poof. He's gone.

Which leads us to the obvious conclusion: House is Keyser Soze.

Just try and tell me otherwise.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:22 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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Just go and read already.

{h/t: Doug}

Posted by: Kathy at 10:22 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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{Insert snort of glee here}

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Don't scare the Italians by staging an impromptu pr0n shoot in their midst.

It's just not nice. They were your allies once upon a time; you people should have some respect for that.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:30 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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A request from Chrissy:

My mom and my best friend's (Susan's) mom are in DeRidder, Louisiana, a small town just above Lake Charles.

I have confirmed with the local electric company they will be out of power for two to three weeks.

Cameron and Lake Charles have been laid to waste.

I'm told by people there that DeRidder looks like a war zone.

My mom is freaking out a bit. While she has weathered many storms, none have come this close or caused this much damage. Then, there's that thing about being alone without my father (he died in December) standing over her to tell her what to do.

Susan's sister also lives in DeRidder and her house took a tree through the roof. Her mom took a tree to a shed.

Susan and I have been networking trying to figure out the next step. We need to get both of our moms out of the area until the power comes back on. There's still major power outages and gas shortages from Houston to Lafayette with roads also being closed through Houston, Beaumont, and Lake Charles.

If Susan's uncle from Tyler, a police officer, is not able to get enough gas to them in the next day or so, I will put together a truck with enough extra gas cans to take to the back roads to head that way. Both my mom's vehicles have gas we can syphon once I get there.

If anyone is between Houston and Lake Charles, please speak up and let me know what the gas situation is where you are.

If you have any information, go throw said information into the comments over at Fistful of Fortnights.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:54 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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The Financial Times profiles Paul Wolfowitz, the new President of the World Bank.

A sampling:

{...}An important part of this agenda is a focus on what the bank can do to help empower women in developing countries. Education and healthcare will remain priorities for the bank, but Wolfowitz is likely to focus its efforts on girls and women. “The role of women is something that has hit me very hard pretty much since my time in Indonesia, where you have a reasonably liberated female population in a predominantly Muslim country. And you can see that the country as a whole is the better off for it... It seems to me that it is an almost arithmetic equation that if half of the population is held back, then your development is going to be held back.”

Bank insiders say his thinking on this issue may have been influenced by Shaha Riza, a bank employee, Middle East expert and specialist on gender issues, with whom the divorced Wolfowitz has had a relationship for the past couple of years. “I have sympathy for someone who says that the Swedish model or the American model of relatively far-advanced feminism is not necessarily something that even women of other countries want,” he says. “But there is a point at which it is more than just a cultural thing and that is a fundamental violation of human rights and a fundamental denial of equality of opportunity, and when you do deny equal opportunity you are trying to run a race with one leg tied, sort of. And often your best leg.”

In Pakistan, last month, Wolfowitz heard a better analogy: at a meeting in the Punjabi village of Dhok Tabarak, a woman told him that development is like a cart: it has two wheels, and if one of the wheels is not turning you will not get very far. Wolfowitz was so taken with the metaphor that during the rest of his visit to Pakistan he quoted the woman on 20 or more occasions. After the first few times, he added a horse to the story, to represent economic growth. “If the cart does not have something strong to pull it - the horse is growth - then it does not matter how fast the wheels can turn.”

Of the three full days Wolfowitz spent in India, one day was spent talking to assorted groups of rural women about bank-sponsored development programmes. Women were also notably present at all his meetings in Pakistan and India and when I asked him if this was a deliberate policy that he intended to continue, he said that it was. “We can empower people simply by meeting with them; I think there’s a tendency to think that if the World Bank president meets with people then they must be important.”

Wolfowitz told me one day that someone had just described him as a feminist. He laughed, and said: “It is the first time in my life I’ve been called that, I certainly don’t think of myself in that way. Look, we are not talking about a particular cultural way of male-female roles, but you can tell when women are denied equal rights or equal opportunities and that is not only unfair to them, it is unhelpful to the whole society.”

Such sentiments from the former Pentagon hawk might sound odd to some in Washington, but they went down well in Hyderabad, where Wolfowitz one day spoke to a hall packed with 300 women from self-help groups across the state of Andhra Pradesh. The groups help women lobby together for health and education, and gain access to micro credit loans. “Who wants to tell me how the self-help group has changed their life?” Wolfowitz asked. All hands in the audience went up. Twenty women started to talk at once, each struggling to speak longest.

There was a lot of laughter and not much translation, but the cheerful mood was killed when the state’s chief minister rose to give a 20-minute speech about his administration’s achievements. The women listened in silence, but perked up when Wolfowitz began to speak again, clapping every time he paused for the translator. The loudest applause came at the end as he told them: “The thing that has impressed me is not just the money you earn but the way it helps you to make your children’s lives better. When I see how well the women are doing here, I think you have to teach the men to walk faster.”

Later, the chief minister asked Praful Patel, the bankÂ’s vice-president for south Asia, why Wolfowitz had received so much more applause than him. Patel said he thought the chief minister had talked at the women, while Wolfowitz had talked to them and asked questions, and that had made a difference.{...}

Go read the whole thing.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:44 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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A politician who kept an election promise!

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I do believe I mentioned that one of the Cake Eater brothers, Stephen, was in town the other night. Steve is the car dealer and when he got stuck here he was returning from getting his first look at his dealership in New Orleans. He was one of the business owners who was allowed to come back into town earlier in the week, to see what the situation was. Well, it wasn't pretty, to say the least. The dealership is, to put it bluntly, wrecked. If it wasn't nailed down, it was either picked up and thrown around due to the storm or someone tried to steal it. Any computers or electronics that didn't get flooded were looted. Cars were stolen, and in one memorable instance an air compressor was ripped off the little red wagon it had called home. If it was nailed down, well, then it was flooded with that murky concoction---and it was five feet deep. I saw the photos he took for insurance purposes and, well, yuck covers it quite well. Not only was all the office furniture, paneling, drywall, wallpaper---and fax machines, copiers, etc. covered in that muck, think about what a service bay at your car dealership looks like and then think of those big canisters of motor oil and anti-freeze and the like---and then imagine them turned over and leaking goo everywhere. I could go on, but I think you get the gist. It's just a mess and a half.

Steve was very tired when he got here, and he was a wee bit dazed, but he had a lot to say about what it was like in New Orleans, how surreal it all was, etc. Yet he neglected to mention that he'd hooked up with a reporter from the Billings Gazette who did a story on the death and dismemberment of the dealership due to Katrina. He never mentioned it, but that stands to reason: he's got bigger fish to fry right now.

I'm just glad I didn't know his GM was packing during their trip. Sheesh.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:22 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Sheesh. After taking the summer off, and being all serious for their election, it seems like they're getting stupid again.

Thank effin' God. I was beginning to wonder what the hell was happening over there.

Anyhooo....today we have the story of a flasher in Berlin. He apparently didn't get the reaction he was hoping for.

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It is absolutely gorgeous in the Twin Cities today. It's currently sixty-two degrees, and the breeze that is blowing is, for the first time since spring, a wee bit on the crisp side. The sun is shining and the sky is that gorgeous shade of deep blue you only see when the smog clears out. The trees are beginning to turn every so slowly and little hints of red and yellow stand out amidst all the green. The squirrels that (over)populate my yard are scampering around said yard, gorging themselves on acorns from the six oak trees we have, in between battles with each other. Earlier this morning, on the branches of the tree right next to my office window, I was privileged to watch yet another squirrel reenactment of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon as they chased each other, jumping from branch to branch. What this death match was about one can only guess, but I believe it has something to do with a female, following the rules laid down long ago by Mother Nature. The only difference between the squirrels and Chow Yun-Fat and Ziyi Zhang was that humans were much quieter. Squirrles are very noisy when they fight, filling the air with the quick crunching of claws meeting bark, as they scamper up the tree at lightning speed and then across the branches to meet their destiny.

I returned from Lake Harriet earlier and I was reminded of all the joys of a fall Friday when I walked past the local high school's football field. Apparently there is a game there tonight. I don't know who they're playing or what the team's chances for a victory are, but it's the first home game and I couldn't help but be a little excited for the people that were there: it's the first time they get to partake in the tradition. The cheerleaders were dressed in their school colors---purple and white---and were decorating all the entrances to the field with balloons and streamers. The marching band was on the field and it seems, after listening to them march around the neighborhood for the past two months, that they've finally got their stuff together. They were playing I Believe I Can Fly but they'd not only upped the tempo, they'd funked it up a bit as well. The tuba section was having fun on the field, and the drum line finally sounded as if they were one humongous drum, instead of fifteen poorly arranged snares and bass drums. It was a nice thing to watch. It reminded me of all the promise that beautiful autumn Fridays possessed in high school.

The day would start off slowly, but it would hold promise. A blue sky, a hint of warmth would soon be found when the sun worked its way toward its zenith. The grass was still green, but it had been cool enough to kill off some of the more annoying varieties of insects that buzzed about, bothering you. You'd drag yourself through whatever class you were dreading that day. Was it a test in Chemistry? Or was a paper due in Sociology? Or was Sr. Rosaria on the war path once again because you flubbed the translation of the one sentence of Caesar's Gallic Wars she'd given you. It didn't matter. There was the hope of the evening hours to get you through the rest of the school day, which always seemed like such a waste. Surely being stuck in school on such a gorgeous day was an affront to God. But since that creative excuse wasn't going to fly with the principal, Itsy Bitsy Betsy, also known as Miss Kish---the world's shortest school prinicpal, EVER---you instead focused on other things. You chatted with your friends about your plans for the evening. There was, as always, a football game to go to. You had to go to the game if it was a home game. There was simply no choice about it. After the game there was a dance at a rotating selection of schools. You worked on sorting out the day's truly important business: whose parents were going to drive you where so you wouldn't miss anything. And it was important you shouldn't miss anything...because Friday nights were when you got to go and ogle the boys.

As I've mentioned before, I went to a Catholic all-girls high school. Obviously, we didn't have a football team; but we had the boys' school down the road---and they had a football team. This school is conveniently called Prep, which is short for Creighton Prepatory School. At that point in time, Prep didn't have its own football field, so their games were held at UNO's field. For a few Friday nights every fall, we'd work our way over to UNO to watch Prep pummel whichever opponent they were up against that week. We'd find seats in the large stadium and then we'd sit there and watch the boys, while pretending we were really watching the game. When you're a freshman, you actually believe that some cutie is going to come on over and talk to you and you wait with bated breath for it to happen. By the time you're a sophomore, however, you've been disabused of that notion. Junior year is when it finally happens and it doesn't seem as interesting as you'd thought it would be. By senior year, well, you're a bit beyond it, or so you'd like to think.

Then, when the football team was done with their pummelling, you'd go and find the car of whomever the lucky parent was who'd pulled the mid-shift chauffeuring stint, and you'd be off to some high school gym to gyrate madly for hours on end. Omaha's a pretty Catholic town: there are---counting on fingers---seven high schools (that I can think of---there are more now) and each of them would rotate hosting a dance or two. So, you'd go and you'd pay five bucks to get into some high school gym where either a garage-band-done-good or a DJ awaited you. My generation apparently didn't have any problems with dancing. This was not a situation where the boys lined the walls and the girls were the ones on the floor. Nosireebob. Everyone got out there and danced and the only time you saw anyone on the sidelines was when they were winded and needed to take a break. You might have snuck outside to get some air with your friends and some boys may have followed, hoping to chat you up. Or you might have met someone while you were waiting for a coke in the cafeteria. You may have even gotten friendly enough with one of them to find a place for a quick make-out session, or you might have been wholly annoyed with one of them because they wouldn't leave you the hell alone. You might have found a new crush, or you might have been crushed by the one you fancied. It was an adolescent soap opera and I have to think it was just as amusing as hell for the chaperones to watch. But, no matter, because as always, time is fleeting. These things were always over with by midnight, so you'd round up your friends, you'd walk into the now quite chilly, pitch black parking lot to find the unlucky parent who'd pulled the chauffeuring late shift and you'd work your way home.

Sometimes you'd be highly satisfied with the evening. Everything would have gone right and you would have actually worked up the courage to talk to the boy you liked---or they'd finally gotten the clue that you liked them. But those were far and few between. The night would, most likely, be unsatisfying. Someone would start a rumor about you and when you finally heard it, it would make your face flush with embarrassment and shame. Some boy might break your heart by ignoring you. You might get into a fight with one of your friends. It didn't really matter what happened, but the posters for the dance should have had the warning "potential adolescent hell" pasted all over them. Yet, surprisingly enough, the potential for it to be an awful night didn't really hit you until it was all over with. Somehow, you always hoped for the best when you started off the evening.

I have to wonder what Friday nights are like for today's teenagers. Are they similar to the ones I endured, even though fifteen years has passed? Or is the entire process different? What do they do after football games nowadays? Do they go to parties? Do high schools even host dances anymore? Or have they canned that activity because it's just a lawsuit waiting to happen? It's all very curious. I'm sure, however, the overall emotional experience is the same. They're probably looking forward to the evening, and they have their hopes and expectations as I did. Some of them will wind up on the positive side of the evening, and some will wind up on the negative, because that's just the way the world works. Ah, anyway...I wonder.

But they'll at least have a football game. Thankfully that much hasn't changed.

Posted by: Kathy at 03:24 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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Fausta does it once again by attending a lecture given by Elie Weisel and reporting on it.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:16 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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and Leonardo DaVinci had some insiders knowledge as to what Mary Magdalene actually looked like, then I think we can safely declare Jesus Christ to have been a breast man.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:05 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Steve's here.

In the Twin Cities. At the Cake Eater Pad. They cancelled his flight to Billings last night, all the hotels were sold out and he crashed over here.

I'll be expecting the phone to ring shortly.

You see, I really can make a post out of just about anything. All I need is the inspriation to do so.

UPDATE: And now he's gone!

Posted by: Kathy at 08:38 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I'm the culprit. Or at least my author is...or might be since we're so very concerned about slandering dead authors.

{HT: Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeve-o}

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Well, my devoted Cake Eater Readers, I know you've been waiting for this very exciting news, so I shall finally disclose it.

Ahem.

The Divas Are Back

Yes, that's right, kids. The delightful demystifying divas, fresh from our two month hiatus tour of Europe, Scandinavia and the Subcontinent, will be returning to answer all the very important questions regarding men and women on Thursday, September 29th.

Since Madame Chrissy has departed the blogging world, we were forced to find someone to fill Chrissy's shoes. Phoenix of Villains Vanquished has graciously agreed to slip her feet into Chrissy's Manolos and will be joining Sadie, Silk and myself every Thursday. As usual The Marvy Men's Club, comprised of The Wiz, Stigmata, Phin and The Naked Villains will be providing the male point of view.

Mark your calendars.

Posted by: Kathy at 03:26 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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...by linking to a Washington Times article, but because it's written by Susette Kelo and is sane, I don't feel that dirty.

{...}As I sat there in the U.S. Supreme Court back in February and listened to the justices hear my case, I was so disappointed their very first question and first concern was for the power of government rather than the rights of citizens.

In many ways, my neighbors and I are the victims of legislators, lawyers and judges who believe it is somehow a sign of intelligence to make language that clearly means one thing mean something exactly the opposite: "Public use" now means private use; judges don't judge but instead let legislators decide whether they're violating the Constitution. There is nothing intelligent about misusing language in this way to take away people's homes and their rights.

What is happening to me should not happen to anyone else. Congress and state legislatures need to send a message to local governments that this kind of abuse of power not only won't be funded, it won't be tolerated.

Special interests -- developers and governments that benefit from this use of power --are working to convince the public there is no problem, but I am living proof there is. {...}

Go read the whole thing.

{Hat tip: Fausta}

Posted by: Kathy at 09:41 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Just you wait until the Maximum Leader gets done.

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The season premiere of Nip/Tuck is on F/X tonight.

I love this show. It's so twisted and---what's the word I'm looking for here?---perverted. It's like watching a car wreck where the reason for the wreck is that people are getting it on in the car and aren't paying attention to their driving. It's just fun. If you haven't seen it, or have avoided it, you don't know what you're missing.

I also watch it because Kelly Carlson, who plays Kimber, was one of my regulars at the Bou, way back in the day, and I like to support her efforts because she's a good person. And I really mean that: she's a good person in real life. Not only did she give me a birthday card one year (would you do that for your barista?) and brought pictures in to share with me from when she snuck a camera into the Grammys (she knew one of the Barenakedladies and was his date that year), she got down on her hands and knees to help me once. One of the facets on my wedding ring came loose because I'd banged it on something and, as a result, one of the diamonds fell out. She was there at the time I noticed it and came around the corner, gave me a hug and told me to stop crying, and then she helped me look for it. She's a good person. She deserves success not just because she's willing to play Kimber.

And, of course, because I know some of you are a curious lot, yes, she is gorgeous in real life. Every single teenage boy I had working at the store was head over heels in love with her and, quite literally, fought with each other to wait on her. Kelly was embarrassed. I thought it was funny and teased her about it. She's come a long way from working at the MAC counter at the Southdale Daytons. Here's hoping she goes even further.

Posted by: Kathy at 06:13 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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1 I've never seen it. When it first started, we didn't get the channel it was on. We do now. Is it something I'm going to get if I come into it two? seasons late? Is it gory? For some reason I am under that impression. Ithy no like gore!

Posted by: Ith at September 20, 2005 06:50 PM (LCvAk)

2 I haven't seen it I may have to check it out. As a side note, I though you'd type Kelly Clarkson and well lets just say I was a tad bit shocked and appalled to say the least.

Posted by: phin at September 20, 2005 09:19 PM (DGPlf)

3 This show is a total guilty pleasure. And I have to say, this episode is hard to watch.

Posted by: Slublog at September 20, 2005 09:57 PM (Krjc2)

4 I have a secret crush on Christian. He's SO F'N BAAAAD. And there's almost nil in the way of "redeeming qualities." Heh. Plus, I will always and forever love me some Liz (Roma). She rawks.

Posted by: Margi at September 23, 2005 09:37 AM (nwEQH)

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That Esther was such a bitch?

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I often joked that when it comes to tithing, the Catholic Church is no different than the mafia: they want their percentage off the top and they want it now. And that's about the extent of my joking capabilities when it comes to the finances of the Catholic Church. Because you have to have knowledge to make a joke about something. An uninformed joke isn't funny. A Catholic might know about what's being done in their parish, but when the money starts going up the ladder, well, you just don't have a clue as to where it goes or how it's spent. Nor is it supposed to be any of your business.

So it was with great curiosity that I read this article in Forbes, (Registration required) because not only does it get down to the nitty gritty of the money matters, it also highlights how this is yet another extension of the heterodoxy v. orthodoxy battle that is taking place within the Church currently.

{...}What would a turnaround artist do with an $8.6 billion (sales) organization with 133,000 employees, falling market share and a mountain of multimillion-dollar lawsuits?

You can't break it up into pieces or sell off the whole shebang. This, after all, is the American Roman Catholic Church. But Geoffrey T. Boisi, a veteran Wall Streeter and devout Catholic, has an answer: Rationalize the assets and look for a better return, just as you would in any business. First, says Boisi, 58, "we're recommending a rigorous analysis of how all parishes and dioceses in this country are being managed. The laity is now offering up its expertise to help the Church through a very difficult time." But ultimately, he concedes, "we have to face the realities that some parishes will have to go. Some schools will need to be shut down. There is no other way."

A pitched battle is shaping up between reformers and traditionalists within the U.S. Catholic Church. On the one side are businesspeople like Boisi and former baseball commissioner Fay Vincent. They have few if any disagreements with the Pope on matters of dogma. But they are openly defiant of the Church authorities on matters of money. The rebels argue that better financial management by an informed laity is the only way to reinvigorate the fallen-away faithful. "How could anyone in Rome argue it wouldn't be better if the Church were run more efficiently?" asks Vincent.

On the other side of the aisle are powerful organizations like Opus Dei, which has a direct line to the Vatican, and large donors like Domino's Pizza founder Thomas Monaghan. They see any change as a direct threat to the long-established order of things. "You don't need modern management techniques," says William Donohue, president of the Catholic League. "You need a return to orthodoxy." This is a struggle over authority and money--and the outcome will change forever the lives of the 65 million Catholics in the U.S.

No one denies the American Church is in trouble. Over the past four decades regular attendance at Mass has collapsed from 75% of those who professed to be Catholic to 40% today. Nearly one in five churches doesn't have a resident priest. In those that do, parishioners are increasingly likely to hear Mass said in thickly accented English by a prelate from Nigeria or the Philippines. Many parishioners are still furious about the sex-abuse scandals--as well as the coverups and sizable payouts that followed--comparing their impact to the shock of Sept. 11. "Once that blew up, Catholics realized just how little say they had in their churches, and they were incensed about it," says Robert Beloin, the Catholic chaplain of Yale University.{...}

Forget about the laity having any say about Church teachings, certain orthodox Catholics wouldn't want the laity to help with the money problems, even when it's apparent that the Church could use some financial guidance because they've got income troubles, big time.

They have expressed their rage with their pocketbooks. On a household basis, Catholics, who are now just as well-educated and upwardly mobile as Protestants, donate less than half as much to their parishes: $550 a year, compared with $1,300 for the typical Protestant. Since the pedophilia cases broke in 2002, annual giving at the parish level has inched up an average 4.6% a year to an estimated $6 billion. But bishops have been hit much harder. In Boston, giving to the archdiocese dropped 43% from $14 million in 2002 to $8 million in 2003. The Spokane, Wash. archdiocese, saddled with a reported $77 million in sex-abuse settlement claims, saw donations to its annual appeal plunge from $1.9 million in 2002 to $45,000 a year later. In the Diocese of Rockville Centre, N.Y., the bishop's take fell 28% to $7.3 million after a 2003 grand jury report found the diocese protected abusive priests by shuffling them from parish to parish. {...}

So, one would think that the fact a bunch of Catholic big wigs who know how to run businesses want to help the Church with this problem would be a Godsend, right? Nope.

{...}He has drawn an impressive following. Among his acolytes: William P. Frank, senior partner at Skadden, Arps, Slate, Meagher & Flom; Frederick Gluck, former managing director of McKinsey & Co.; Thomas J. Healey, onetime partner at Goldman Sachs and Assistant Treasury Secretary in the Reagan Administration; Jonathan O'Herron, partner at Lazard Frères; Gerard Roche, chairman of Heidrick & Struggles International; and Richard Syron, chief executive of Freddie Mac.

What do these guys want? A reorganization of how the American Church is run, from requiring annual reports and five-year strategic plans in each parish to SWAT teams of lay accountants, lawyers, psychologists and consultants to deal with crises and other management problems. Among the goals:

• Establish better recruitment and training of the nation's 31,000 lay ministers--80% of whom are women--as well as annual performance reviews.
• Encourage more lay involvement in parish finance committees, whose decisions would carry weight with priests and bishops.
• Streamline dioceses, which control parishes, even if it means closing redundant churches, seminaries and schools.
• Cut costs by, for example, buying Bibles, paper towels, candles and clerical garments in bulk.
• Introduce "best-practices" programs, like those of the Chicago archdiocese, to achieve accountability in the other dioceses.

There's really nothing revolutionary there. All these guys are saying is that there is benefit to running the Church like a business. You have a lot of money coming in, and even more of that money in some dioceses is going out---the books are unbalanced and here are some ways you could straighten this problem out. But just the fact these guys are speaking up, well, that's troublesome for some of the more orthodox members of the Church. These men have been labeled as "liberals and dissenters." They're actually anything but, but you'd never know that to listen to the orthodox members whine:

{...}For an organization as hierarchical as the Church, run by a man who is (according to doctrine since 1870) infallible, the talk about "customers" borders on heresy. "The Church is not a business, and Catholics in the pews shouldn't be considered customers," insists Denis Coleman, onetime chairman of Covenant House and a former director at Bear Stearns. He says he's not against transparency. But, "if you follow Boisi's logic, then Catholics ultimately can choose who becomes a cardinal--or even the Pope." Other powerful conservative Catholics are lining up on Coleman's side. Among them is Father C. John McCloskey, a former stockbroker for Merrill Lynch who is a leading cleric in Opus Dei, and Bishop Fabian W. Bruskewitz of Lincoln, Neb. The call for reform, they fear, is really a Trojan horse to subvert the authority of the Church. "If Boisi and his group are anything like Voice of the Faithful,"says a prominent member of Opus Dei, referring to a group calling for more financial disclosure and lay involvement in running the Church, "that would be a sign of their intent for a putsch, a takeover." Voice of the Faithful, whose motto is "Keep the faith, change the Church," denies that characterization.{...}

Now, I put that quote in bold print for a reason. The "prominent member of Opus Dei" used the word "If". As in "If Boisi and his group are anything like..." then this "prominent member" goes on to compare this group to another "liberal" group, well of course they're intent on a "putsch." (Which is a nice word choice, eh? I think we've all heard that one before and it's generally a term associated with Adolf Hitler.) But that "If" is very curious, isn't it? If these guys are anything like this group, well, of course they're intent on taking over. Like, duh. Yet the use of the word "if" signals that this prominent member doesn't know that they're like the Voice of the Faithful. The "prominent member" is just assuming they are because they're not toeing the orthodoxy line.

Do you think that if I said to a member of Opus Dei, "Well, geez. From what I've heard you guys sacrifice goats under the full moon. So you should be locked up because you're a bunch of nuts!" they wouldn't have a problem with that? That they wouldn't call me "uninformed" and "uneducated" about what their mission and their practices are? Of course they would. And they'd have every right to do so. But apparently prominent members of Opus Dei are willing to vilify those who would disagree with them simply by comparing them to their enemies. Which is baloney. I'm sure your mother told you that to "assume" is to make an "ass" out of "u" and "me." I know mine did. It doesn't seem as if that message filters down from the Opus Dei moms, though, does it?

There is so little faith going on in this organization designed to promote faith it's just baffling.

Posted by: Kathy at 01:42 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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