Playwright

Father

Thee may not hie thither.

Son 

But father, I pray to thee. Do not make me stay within this house. I must have my fun.

Father

Attend to my counsel. If thou dost go, it shall be thy woe. Mark my words my boy. If thou doth go to that house of plague, thou will come to harm.

Son

How shall I come to harm at an innocent party? There is no plague within that house. I know not of what you speak.

Father

I beg your pardon. I spied that boy at an opium den just last month. I would allow thee to hie, but I beseech thee, methinks such a party will bring bad tidings.

Son

That boy has been my friend since I was but a boy. Don't you remember when we wooed girls in the park together. He is not who you speak of.

Father

Soft! Who are you to lecture me on what is best for you. You know nothing of this world. I fought for you throughout your childhood. These boys are your foes. They are nought but woe and plague. I will dispatch thee with my long sword if you hie.

Son

I am an adult, father. Who are you to tell who my foes are.

Father

I order you to stay.

Son

But father...

Father

You cannot change my mind. Shut up you insolent boy.

Son

I will resolve to dispatch thee myself if you do not let me go thither.

Father

Sirrah! You will not talk to me in such a way. You will hither stay or die thither.

Son

Nay! For you are my plague and woe. You will hold me in this house no longer.

Father

I command you to stay hither.

Son

I will not attend to your petty quod.

Father

Do not call my house a prison. This is a place of peace.

Son

I pray of thee, father.

Father

I know what is best for you. You will only wither thither.

Son

I will have no more of this. Adieu!

The father lops his son's nob off.

Hello out there

So I figure I should put something up here about my life since that's one of the final causes of this here blog. I switched from the Diocese of Dallas and joined the Diocese of Tyler, which is sweet. And now I'm not in the seminary in Dallas; I'm in the seminary in Philadelphia. I'm at St. Charles Borromeo Seminary. It's pretty legit. Go to this website and look a the pictures of the campus. It's really pretty.
I won't be able to go back to Texas until December probably, so I think I'm going to try and crash at St. Greg's over Thanksgiving. BTDubs, does anyone have Sercer's number? Because SGA is only 2.5 hours from me.

Oh, and one more thing. I don't get to wear a cassock for another two months. But when I do, that'll be legit too! Because cassocks are legit! Just ask Sugar. Or Neal.

Response to "Typical Anne"

I want to respond to Mr. Kane's most recent post by posting something that has nothing to do with anything he said.

Here are two quotes, by two dissimilar poets: John Donne and ee cummings. The quotes are about philosophy vs. poetry and wonder.

"[T]he clarity of literal language satisfies the intellect by giving knowledge, while the obscurity of figurative language stimulates the intellect to search further by causing wonder."

-Donne, John. Devotions

"not for philosophy does this rose give a damn"

-cummings, ee. voices to voices, lip to lip

Job Posting: Gov't Translators Needed, 2 Years Experience Required

My dear friends, Barack Obama returned to his roots this weekend (or at least, 50% of his roots) when he exasperatedly exclaimed that, “everybody in Washington gets all wee-weed up.”

Misko! Fishman! Sercer! The President speaks your language!! Wee-wee-de-de!!

Don't you understand what this means? The problems our great nation has been facing these few months has NOTHING to do with extreme, unconstitutional government spending but actually rests in the fact that our Washington politicians are speaking the language of wee-wee-de-de and the American people didn't realize it! All we need now are a few good translators!


Suddenly, flag@whitehouse.gov isn't so scary! It was just the White House's way of posting for the translator position. While most people saw this as a gross infringement on our rights to free speech, you knew it was the wee-wee way of asking for someone to step in and explain what the President has been unable to articulate for six months now!

I have never been more proud of my country or of Applebees [or Ruby Tuesday, also known as Scu-me Tuesday -Lord Bloch] as I am in this moment. If it was not for that fine food establishment, and your incessant practice, you boys might not be the proficient speakers you are today.

Gentleman, get thee to Washington! You have a country to save!

Typical Anne

Anne told me, via email, that Peter Bloch's blog was being taken over by Josh and I. I think this is absurd. When Anne sees a problem, she automatically excludes herself from the solution. Why don't you contribute Anne/others?

My dad always said...

Life's a big truck/train

about to smash you

(metaphorical truck,

now in reverse over the body...

again and once again).

Beginnings are always fervent.

Middle-age will look pathetic

to the young or old

(a long loud sneeze or laugh).

It is what it is

(raised eyebrow).

You can do that kind

of stuff when you're young

(leans chair back,

and takes a swig/drag).

A reponse to Peter Kane's fun question

The short answer is no.

Now for the long answer. And just so you know, I may stick on some clarifications or points that don't seem all that significant to everyone, but I think there are a lot of places to get confused on this question.

There are multiple questions to consider. The first question regards the participation in evil. Clearly Peter already recognized this issue when he wrote that "publicly funding a direct (and direct is an important word in this) action such as abortion seems to put citizens in a more morally culpable role." He is right to say that "direct" is an important word here, but it is unclear what this term "direct" means in this case. He uses the phrase "direct action," which, as far I can tell, would normally refer to the activity of the abortionist. Since, however, the abortionist already directly kills the fetus, I do not think we can make that action any more direct. I am pretty sure you could rephrase his statement as "the government uses taxpayer's money to support abortion directly."

Now hang on for the ride as I change the terms some more. Usually when a Catholic attempts to engage in a higher level of ethics or moral theology, he begins using the term "direct" in a particular way, namely, in reference to the principle of double effect, in which one must distinguish between direct and indirect effects. If that were the crucial point in this question, then I think our paying taxes would have an indirect effect. But the principle of double effect is not the crucial point. Directness in this case has to do with immediacy or proximity. What we have here is the question regarding the proximate versus the remote participation/cooperation with evil.

The first distinction we need to make when we consider the cooperation with evil is whether the cooperation is material or formal. Material cooperation is basically the being connected with or related to some aspect of the evil by one of our own actions. (E.g. In Nazi Germany, wicked doctors performed heinous experiments upon some of the prisoners. One of the experiments involved freezing human beings until they died in order to determine in what temperatures the human body could sustain life. That's pretty messed up. If a researcher were to use the data collected by the Nazis to create a gear that would allow an human being to stay alive in such conditions, say for scientific research in Antarctica, that is a material cooperation. It's uncomfortable, but I don't think it would be intrinsically evil.) The second aspect of cooperation with evil is formal cooperation. Basically, the question here is about intention. What is the intent of the cooperation with evil? (For the researcher, he would have formal cooperation if he saw himself as carrying out the activity of the Nazi doctors, or some such thing.) A formal cooperation with evil is impermissible.

I think most if not all people that are part of this blog do not intend to aid the abortion of human beings by paying their taxes, so I do not think there is a formal cooperation. At this point, we must determine when a material cooperation with evil is permissible or impermissible. This is were remoteness and proximity come into play. When one's cooperation directly produces the evil effect, it is proximate/immediate/direct. When one's cooperation indirectly produces the evil effect, it is remote/mediate/indirect. There is, however, a sort of spectrum of cooperation from being completely proximate and immediate to being utterly remote and mediate. (E.g. In Lost, when the boy Ecko kills the person, helping the drug lords instill fear into the townspeople, he is cooperating in evil in a completely proximate and immediate way. On the other hand, knowing that the Dallas Cowboys franchise supports Planned Parenthood [jeez, who doesn't?], were a person to go over to a friend's house, be offered a cup of coffee, agree to have one, receive the cup in Dallas Cowboys mug, and then actually drink from the Dallas Cowboys mug, that's about as remote/mediate as it gets.)

It seems to me that paying taxes to the United States goverment, which would in turn fund abortions, would be somewhere in the middle of those two extremes. Though it would be more proximate than our current participation in evil--we already pay taxes to a goverment that actively defends a wicked violation of basic human rights--I do not think that would necessarily make the taxpayer culpable.

There are a few more considerations that we will help us determine the right way of thinking. First off, we are required make our material cooperation as remote as possible. So, all things being equal, we support/engage/utilize whatever is most remotely related to evil. (If the researcher had data from other experiments to find out the temperature a human body can withstand, that would be better to use.) In this case, there are only 2 options: either (a) you pay your taxes and somewhat remotely, somewhat proximately cooperate in a grave evil, or (b) you don't.

In this case, however, not all other things are equal. We have a grave reason to pay our taxes as well as to minimize our material cooperation with evil. We must pay our taxes because of both the natural law--"Man is a political animal"--and divine command--"Give unto Caesar that which is Caesar's." This is not like going to a coffee shop that supports abortion versus going to one that does not. Ethically speaking, you don't have to drink coffee. But you do have to pay your taxes. And remember, sometimes Caesar was a bad dude.

So no, in this case, I do not think it is makes sense for an individual to evade his taxes into order to avoid the somewhat remote/somewhat proximate participation in the evil of abortion. I do not think the individual is obligated to do so, nor do I think it is permissible in this case.

-Josh
P.S. Thanks, Peter, for the opportunity to word-vomit pedantically all over this blog.

An Ethical Question

I have a conundrum for someone like Mr. Neu. If this Health Care Reform Bill passes, and tax dollars will go to health care, and since abortion falls under health "care" in this place, should I pay my taxes?

Now it could be argued that the government does all sorts of dirty-nasties with our money; however, publicly funding a direct (and direct is an important word in this) action such as abortion seems to put citizens in a more morally culpable role. Thoughts anyone? Could/should you evade taxes given such a bill?

Excuse the length, especially just after Lord Bloch's.

Written on a bridge at Featherock, on a bridge, in November, that being the Featherock in Schulenberg, Texas. 

Middle Tempest

I. Fog Lecture

October.
Thunder in dull moments
Shuffling puddles around tanned grass.
And when the gusts settled,
There was a serious silence,
Your brow contracted with a seaward knowledge.

What is the question answered?
What the place of moments of contraction?
This gaze and brow temper
Like fog in a drought.
No, you are not allowed to parse the
Fog in a face,
Nor the dusty marina, out of season.
No, you do not answer,
But take a pencil and scratch—

II. A Holiday

Among apple dumplings, peach-rose chairs,
Blurred within humid cheeriness,
The wine swirled before a whorish grin,
Before the roasted-almond beef a la bru—,
The boys muffling the new glee of a fresh-shorn, frenzied joke,
During the stuffed bells, grown luxurious from the grin,
Among some chatter of the election,
Grandfather Ted nodded his head,
And fell asleep.

III. Voices

I read something, last year, said Leverenz—
And not too soon, for Helen now shifted her feet—
That’s fascinating, she said, and held her cigarette like a black and white movie.
Taking the cue, Leverenz crossed a leg.
I write, on occasion, but all I find is coarse,
Dull, so un-aesthetic (with a victor’s frown)—
Of course, of course—with a two-lipped kiss of her butt.

Temples erected in sin,
And Marge is mad again.

Temples triumphantly…
the adverb speaks.

We have wasted in little tiffs,
Riffs of buzzing chords—

The z letters extricate
What they significate.

Wasted words, quickly wrought,
Prated by Johnny Walker Blue.

Words mean nothing,
So so do you.

One’s got to vote conservative,
What with a war on, and all.
But I must say—George, no phone at supper.

Deep within the Loch of Aberdeen,
A rippling tide resounds against the gorge.
Leviathan erupt, erect, silent as yet,
Paws the silky weeds, unscrews his jaw.

Boom.

The rubbled streets
A little black boy’s feet.

Boom.

Fallen Appalachia
Returns to native dust.

Boom.

Grandpa woke.

IV. Creek

Had we all but the time in the wild park,
Dangling our feet off the center of the bridge.
An acorn tossed down the planks, and I mark
A Cardinal’s curiosity, but reasoning’s my privilege.
If you had seen, you would, with me, wonder
Was it the nut or plank, the cause of the bounce.
If the waning creek below had kept its depth,
Would we tribute the source or grounds?

Such thoughts tremor behind a gentler thought—
That such a time as this would persist
Toward a more meaningful summer’s fall:
The nut, rotting cap and shell, stops.

A heavier air.

The puddle that was a creek, murmurs, quakes.
If only you could see, with me,
And outlast this…misunderstanding

A warmer air still.
The sea-girl’s glance is grayed, aphrodisiac.

Droplets of warm rain patter the planks.
The girl of the seaward glance, fearing a cold, retires.
I, feet hanging, am witness to the creek.
The nut—mud’s his christening—drinks deep the rain.
And his offshoot—rotted, like the seed?

‘Till all the seas gang dry

I would have answered,
But the age refused an answer,
Thought it uncouth.

Thoughts tremor, a gentle rising water.

Pedantry: Don't Leave Home Without It

Cigarettes are $6.00 in Phoenix, so, if you come here, make sure to stock up first. Here's a narrative poem I wrote at some point.

Aeneus and Dido Meeting

I.
bursting into the hall—spilling chicken
wings, cold from refrigeration (you had
waited until midnight to be able
to eat them) and glossy with barbeque
and hot and hot-barbeque, tumbling out
of their cold white styrofoam togo box—
awkwardly tipsy from not knowing about
the dangers of flipping cups.
two doors close, both mine closing
and another...not scared. I,
up gathering the still good chicken,
and you, now acquainted with me, shared
your spoils, (I added my candy and grape-
juice). then you suggested by leaving the room
without me, that we ought to go in search
of higher things—and I not having a
cellular device, brought my cordless-land-phone
instead. you showed me a building’s roof,
the Pleiades, and a quivered starfish
you found at Neptune’s beach, New Jersey.
we burst into the world together now,
our auspicious friendship.

II.
The next nine months we spent it together.
And once we awoke we saw the vision.
And when our spirits got low,
We raised each other up, and in joyous times
I raised you higher. That is what friends do.

III.
You never thanked me, until you did
Not chop off my hands—you had tied them
—with a hatchet.

IV.
you shiny plastic piece of
; and you pulling me through the window,
to gently tap my cheek with your knuckles.

V.
chicken wings, both drunk, the building rooftop.
it is gone, all is gone, for what?
it’s not gone, said, not gone entirely.
but, trust me, it’s gone, and I want a why.
because seeing that vision has crushed us.

Do your pedantic duty

In light of Peter's want of serious adherents to his call to enhanced pedantry (and pedantry has no pejorative connotations in this circle of trust, thank you Dr. Davies), you should all read and think about Mr. Horan's wonderful tribute to the muse, published below for your reading pleasure. Remember, the real world means boring jobs, mindless tasks, unnerving stagnation, so breathe the intellectual air surrounding your long-distance colleague, Mike. (This pedantry is brought to you by the letter U, and Paul Gautier)

The Way the World Ends...

Since we have all given in to the peer pressure surrounding Bloch's call to arms (and by arms I mean pedantry), I feel as though we should reach out to other pedants in other, more exotic places. I found these while browsing teh interwebz during this ridiculous temp job. I have also sharpened my Pandora stations to perfection, but that doesn't concern any of you. All of them except New Criterion are book blogs, mostly interesting.

http://www.bookcritics.org/blog
http://americanfiction.wordpress.com/
http://dgmyers.blogspot.com/
http://www.newcriterion.com/blogs.cfm/
http://noggs.typepad.com/
http://www.complete-review.com/saloon/index.htm (The site this links from is also pretty neat.)
http://www.thenewcanon.com/