Theologian needed

This is a very dull blog, I fear.

But if there are any theological experts out there who understand this kind of thing, I really would like an answer, or at least an opinion.

Yesterday, when George W. was schmoozing with Pope Ratzinger, he said he agreed with the old Pontiff that relativism was a Bad Thing.

Scarce 50 years ago, when I was at a Catholic school in London, the priest who taught us Religious Knowledge (surely an oxymoron?) told us, among other things, that Limbo existed and that eating meat on Fridays was a sin. Later in life, in the States, friends told me they were taught that the meat rap was, in fact, a mortal sin. I seem to remember it being venial, but that´s not the issue here.

Now, I gather, Limbo either never did exist, or else they have shut it down, and meat eating on Fridays is off the sin list. Am I right?

Because if I am, it appears to be an open-and-shut case of relativism. If believing in Limbo was relatively right then, how can it be relatively wrong today? And what happened to the sinful meat eaters up to when they re-wrote the score?
Are they still doing time in Purgatory? At least until that goes to hell the way Limbo has?

Can a sin stop being a sin without relativism getting involved? Not as far as I can see.

I suppose Galileo was relatively wrong in his day. Maybe, for Ratzinger, he still is.

Birds, Women, Guns, Bibles and Dogfights.

Four topics today.

1: The Peaceable Kingdom, as my wife calls our set-up here, has a new member, a canary. He is grey-ish and looks more like a sparrow, but he sings like nothing on earth. Provisionally, he is called Bob (for Dylan), but that might change. Camaron (for De la Isla), Jussi (for Bjorling), and Sidney (for Bechet) are contenders. Placido (for Domingo) would be the obvious choice, but we have already given that name to a wild bird who likes to warble in our garden.

2: A couple of days ago now, President Zapatero presented his new cabinet. Out of 17 ministers, nine are women. Just in case George Bush is reading this, that is more than half.
One, a 37 year old, clearly about six months pregnant, is now the Minister of Defence. Another, at 31, is the youngest Minister ever in Spain and possibly the world, for all I know. Apparently, the snide comment in Madrid, is along the lines of, ¨Plenty of women, but no fat ones.¨ Nor, as a columnist for El Pais pointed out, no elderly, disabled, homosexuals, Jews, Muslims, immigrants, or extraterrestrials, either. Call that inclusive?
For readers from the Midwest, (more on there later) I must point out that the writer was being ironic.

All this is excellent, particularly when today´s news featured a couple of elderly men jointly responsible for a good percentage of the planet´s current woes - George Bush and Pope Ratzinger - were no doubt mutually congratulating one another on the mess they are making of things. Bin Laden was absent - more pressing things to do, no doubt. I wonder how much coverage the Spain women story got in the U.S. Must have a look later. Less than the old Pope, I expect.

3: It looks as if Barack has shot himself in the foot with one of the millions of guns the embittered old men in the Midwest own and rejoice in. Not that he was wrong, pointing out that America´s post-industrial towns are populated with embittered gunslingers. The trouble is he was exactly right. And telling the truth is political suicide in the States.
I speak from experience. I lived in Toledo, Ohio, then in Jeanette, Pa., and have known, and drunk - and even worked, with many such folk for nearly twenty years. They are often eaten up with anger and frustration over life. The world beyond means nothing to them. Hillary - or at least her team - almost certainly know Barack is correct. But they can now get all huffy about him insulting the poor ex-working man whose job is now in China, partly thanks to Bill Clinton.
Rifle in one hand, Bible in the other. Salt of the earth, don´t you know (the embittered old men, that is, not Clinton).
It has also been said that Obama´s remarks will give these voters in Pennsylvania the excuse they were looking for not to vote for him. This is balls. They don´t need an excuse. These kind of guys would never have voted for him anyway. They will not be too keen on voting for Hillary, come to that. McCain is their man, if Bush and Cheney are not an option. Rifle in one hand, Bible in the other.

4: Back to sanity.
Rebekah has just come back from walking the dogs. Tim got in a real knife and fork session with one of our neighbor´s dogs, a noted canine thug. Tim sent him scuttling with a bloody face and a torn ear.
Happy days in the Peaceable Kingdom.

Gut Reaction

It has been an exciting ten days, or so.
On good Friday I noticed that, to put it crudely, my shit was amiss. There was blood in it. This can be a bad sign. The same thing happened for the next four days, over the Easter weekend. I did not want to spoil the weekend for Reb, who was enjoying the parades of bleeding Jesuses and weeping Virgins, so I waited ´til Monday to tell her, as we were enjoying a tinto in the bullfight bar, in Palencia, surrounded by pictures of men in embroidered outfits being gored.
She took it well, and Tuesday we went to the local health centre in Villada and told the doc. He filled out a form and said to get over to the nearest hospital, which is also in Palencia, ahora mismo, which means right now. We were admitted promptly and I was told to get undressed and put on a dopey robe that was open all down the back. Some hours, and tests later, I was told I would be staying overnight at least, issued with pyjamas, a toothbrush and toiletries and put into a ward with a nice man called Cristi who worked for Renault and was having trouble with his groin.
After a not too uncomfortable night, and more, pre-dawn, tests, I was told that things were ´stable,´and I could go home and come back next week (today) for some big-time probing.
Which I did. They knocked me out and rummaged around inside. I didn´t feel a thing not even after I came round. Quite enjoyable, in a way.
While I was getting dressed again, the doctor told Reb, ¨He is all right, but he shan´t drink more Whisky, Orujo or Brandy.¨ I think he meant ¨shouldn´t.¨ Not a mention of my favourites, Gin and Vodka, but I suspect it is just that my vocabulary of booze is bigger than his.
Orujo, by the way is the local liquor. A couple of friends make their own in their barn. It seems that calling the hard stuff ¨Rotgut´can be literally true.
Anyway, I shan´t fail to do what the doc demands.
And I will drink a toast to the local health service.
In wine though; not Orujo, or Vodka, or even Gin.

Thought For The Day

Flaubert wrote,
"To be stupid, selfish, and have good health are three requirements for happiness, though if stupidity is lacking, all is lost."

But what did he know?

Mixing Politics and Sport

In yesterday´s blog I went off the rails a bit. you can do that with blogs.

I had intended to make the point, regarding the fifth anniversary of the invasion of Iraq, that the Bush Republicans and John McCain too now, keep talking about ´´winning the war. For about four years now, I have been asking this question and have not had even a vestige of an answer.

HOW WILL WE KNOW WHEN WE HAVE WON?

This is not the sort of war where the losers end up signing a document of surrender and handing over their swords (or scimitars, maybe) to the victor. All I can suppose is that the President at the time will announce that all members of Al Queda have been killed. Official. Peace in our time from now on. And, when another deadly attack takes place, we can say with confidence that it was not Al Queda but some other bunch of bastards - either not so bad, or even worse, depending on what side the coin comes down.

However, this line of thinking will get us nowhere, so let us go back to brooding on yesterday´s other topic, The Olympic Games.
My ideas generated some debate, mostly in favor although it is perhaps not extraordinary that syncopated swimming elicits scant support among my readers.
I was persuaded to look up the official list of Sports´ currently on offer in Pekin. One that stands out as a candidate for immediate dumping is Shooting. Worse even than Ping-Pong, (which is on the Olympic list) or Golf, (which unaccountably, is not), the criteria are not even consistent. Handguns, rifles and shotguns are listed as OK, but not machine guns. Why not? And not a whisper about Bazookas. But why stop there? If Shooting is considered a reasonable way of winning glory and a gold medal for one´s country, why not Bombing?
No, Shooting must go.
Along with Boxing, Wrestling, Tae Quan Do (whatever the hell that is), and Sword Fighting, better known as Fencing. All too violent and silly. I had to think a bit before dropping Archery, but although it is fun at first, SOMEONE COULD END UP LOSING AN EYE, and we don´t want that, do we now?
Doubtless the Chinese have flirted with the possibility of suggesting Baton Charging as a likely addition. Many nations would fancy their medal chances in that event.

If all the nasty activities currently on offer continue to be approved Olympic material, it can only be a question of time before Mugging makes the list. Which, considering how the Bush gang won the last two elections, and treated John Kerry, brings us back to politics. And out.

Unsporting comments

The Invasion of Iraq was, ´Just, noble, and necessary,´says Bush, which means, of course, exactly the opposite. It´s easy to know where you are with George. If he says there is no recession, you know that there is a recession. If he says we are winning in Iraq, we must be losing. When he says things are getting better there, as does McCain, we know that best best we can hope for is that they are getting less worse. Which they ain´t.

Anyway, here are a few predictions.

The Olympic Games will not be held in China this year. Too much pollution and persecution.

McCain will win the Presidency over either Clinton or Obama, probably Clinton. Race and religion will do Obama in.

Sarkozy will overcome his crippling inferiority complex.

I must say, however, that all of these will no doubt turn out to be erroneous. My record of picking election winners is totally consistent. I am always wrong. This is because I can´t imagine anybody thinking or voting differently to myself. I was confident Thatcher would not be elected. Who in their right minds would vote for her? The same happened both times with Bush, of course. Come to that, I wouldn´t have given a rat´s ass for Ratzinger´s chances in the Vatican Stakes. Wrong stable.

While I am on a tear, we might as well tackle the Olympics. I used to look forward to them with great anticipation, particularly the 5k, 10, 1,500m and the marathon. I still like these. I even like the swimming races. But the whole package is now way out of hand and silly and the majority of events should be dumped.
Not just the obviously dopey stuff like synchronised swimming, but also walking races (if you are in a hurry, just bleeding run), the triple jump (hop, step and jump; meaningless. Why not the jump, step and hop?) Then all events that require a panel of judges, all soccer matches (no point - enough soccer competitions already) The pole vault, (too much reliance on technicality), and last , but least, those bike races where the two riders go as slowly as possible for about nine tenths of the race then pedal like crazy at the end (too philosophical).

If the was a Waterboarding event, I would ban that too. The Americans would be denied a certain gold there.
All flags and national anthems should be banned, and all athletes should wear the same white vest and shorts.

When people say that sport and politics should not mix, I remember years back when the British Rugby teams were prevented from playing the South Africans. That was what the dolts who wanted the Springboks (as the lily-white South African team was called) to compete used to bleat. The fact that the Springboks refused to have black players in their team aparently did not count as politics.

So let´s eviscerate The Games. Cut out all the all the Dressage and Three Day Eventing and Show-jumping - if we allow animals in, we might as well include fox hunting and bullfighting (certain golds for Spain and England, though not necessarily in that order), and move the handful of remaining events to Finland or somewhere else decent and leave the Chinese to kicking the Tibetans around and wondering what to do with the five thousand tons of Egg Fu Yong they have ordered in advance to feed the serried ranks of synchronised slow cyclists, to name but many.

Stepping back in time

The weather is behaving as if it believed all that climate change talk: a succession of warm, sunny days in late February. The locals are worried. The plants are budding, and daffodils are blooming. But they need rain (the plants that is, not the locals), and if we get a big frost later, all of them could be ruined (the locals and the plants).

Still, we took advantage on Saturday. The dogs and us piled into the Kangoo and set off. We decided to stop about 15 miles further on at Cisneros. This is a village with a fair bit of history, as usual around here.
It is reputed to be the birthplace of the eponymous cardinal, around 1430 or so, and there is a statue of him in the main square. He looks like a nasty bit of work, like most cardinals, but it may just be flattering. I am not sure what he is famous - or notorious for, but a rather lively part of Madrid is named after him.

We walked from the town a mile or so along a quiet road which had a series of stone Calvary crosses spaced out along it, until we came to an interesting church, deserted and locked of course. Then we walked on another mile to a village called Pozo de Urama. Outside there, we met an elderly and friendly gent, who commented on Tim, a hunting dog. Didi I have a rifle? No. Did I hunt ? No.

I told him the story of how Tim found us. The geezer, whose name was Ruffino, then told us a lot of things about the area. As usual, the villages have been depopulated hugely. He told us the name of the church we had passed was Christ of the Lamp and that every September 8th there is a procession out from Cisneros and back. Romerias, they are called.

We walked with him to Pozo, his village, where he had been mayor for 25 years. He showed us an alternative way back across the fields , which meant we could let the dogs run loose.

About a half mile outside Cisneros, we saw two stones like tombstones in the ditch by the side of the path. One read.´ Here died Eugenio Herron, aged 36.´ The date was obliterated, but I suspect it was 1936, and that he was a victim of the Civil War. The other stone was a sort of imitation of a Roman tombstone (at least I suspect it was an imitation) with a latin inscription very hard to read. But I think it was a marker of another victim of that war.
We agreed we will try to find out more soon.

These small towns often have a big history, some of which they would often prefer to stay buried..