As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies dráw fláme; / As tumbled over rim in roundy wells / Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's / Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name; / Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: / Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; / Selves -- goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, / Crying Whát I do is me: for that I came.// Í say móre: the just man justices/ [Gerard Manley Hopkins]

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In "Four Cultures of the West," John O'Malley, SJ, showed us how to read the open book of our own personal experience and look at what we find there. This is what I find about family and friends, academics and humanism, religion and the rule of law.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

VOTE

Duets being sung with lyrics of blame for the collapse of debt onto Wall Street towers are entertaining. It helps, as I deceive myself only too well, to vent. Still unaware that the lawyer, who has self for one, is a fool. Twice.

There is another duet being sung by the right ones, Sarah and John. Entertainers, even amateurs, have a way about them: subtle, deadlier than terrorists, charming. Reviews by music critics swell in the ocean of reportage on this presidential campaign, but are drowned out, apparently, by the tolling of the polling bells, which toll for us.

Whelmed by the mountain of surf from the farthest of the right, the West of Alaska and Arizona, whence storms of Cat 9 or greater roar in the fury of treason defying reason, we in the nearer right and the center and the left, complacently refuse to digest the daily polling tolling, which declares wildly, that half of us applaud this duo campaigning to wipe us all out of the quiet and peaceable enjoyment of our greatest pride, "Civis Americanus sum.— I am an American citizen."

The fools we turn to for counsel portend, that November 4's majority will preserve and protect the Constitution of the United States of America, because our current leaders have failed to fulfill that solemn vow, sworn eight years ago. The polling majority of this very day, however, predict, "Not so. Not so." And all of them sit in thrall, as the singers sing their song.

The less confident and more unsure, the pusillanimous among us, fear.

Sarah and John sing lyrics of prison hotels and bridges to nowhere and lies and flag, to the clapping fists and stomping feet of their adoring fans. Who vote. This duo are terrorists who will prevail, with less than airplanes into towers and suicide bombers in shopping malls, so-called terrorists, willing to die to enter eternity in pursuit of the glory exploding in defeat of Satan. Us.

Our anchors and their pundits and their polls inform us daily that we are still unaware. As we were on 910.

Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness are alienable.

And yet, we, too, can vote.

So.

Vote.

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