Saint Marshall?

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader reads that the Episcopal Diocese of Washington is considering granting sainthood to the late Thurgood Marshall.

The paragraph of the article that most interested your Maximum Leader was this one:

When it comes to sainthood, Episcopalians follow a looser procedure than the Roman Catholic Church, which conducts a rigorous investigation into the life of any saint-to-be and requires proof that he or she performed at least two miracles. Candidates for Episcopal sainthood should be figures who displayed traits such as “heroic faith,” “joyousness” and “service to others for Christ’s sake,” according to church guidelines.

What? Your Maximum Leader is shocked - shocked! - that the Episcopal Church might follow a looser procedure than the Roman Catolic Church for bestowing sainthood. Episcopalians! Loose with anything?!? What the hell? The Episcopal Church is the “cake or death” church. That is nothing to be scoffed at.

Okay… Your Maximum Leader is scoffing…

Your Maximum Leader will fully admit that he is remarkably out of touch with the sainthood qualification requirements of the Episcopal Church. From what he’s learned from a few quick google searches, it appears as though the technical requirements for sainthood in the Episcopal Church are rather easy to meet. A saint, by their definition is just a heroic Christian or one who shares a life in Christ. (Excursus: Isn’t it interesting that the Episcopal Church even has two different, though similar, definitions of the word Saint on their website?) It would seem as though lots of good people could qualify. Indeed, your Maximum Leader might see if there is an application process for sainthood in the Episcopal Church. If there is he might consider filling one out and seeing where it goes…

Carry on.

Got Nuthin’

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader has nuthin’ today. Just nuthin’. He does not want to opine or comment on anything that he can think of. Perhaps a muse shall strike him during the day.

And when he can’t think of anything to opine upon that means it is time for a quiz.

You scored as The Eighth Doctor (Paul McGann). The Eighth Doctor struck a chord with you after only one adventure. Maybe you are a fan of his audio adventures, or you just came to Dr Who quite late. Hope it wasn’t just the special effects that impressed you.

The First Doctor (William Hartnell)

75%

The Eighth Doctor (Paul McGann)

75%

The Fourth Doctor (Tom Baker)

69%

The Sixth Doctor (Colin Baker)

69%

The Third Doctor (Jon Pertwee)

56%

The Ninth Doctor (Christoper Eccleston)

50%

The Second Doctor (Patrick Troughton)

31%

The Seventh Doctor (Sylvester McCoy)

25%

The Fifth Doctor (Peter Davidson)

19%

Which Doctor Who are you?
created with QuizFarm.com

Just to be clear… Your Maximum Leader has never watched a single episode of Dr Who that he can recall. So he has no idea if this is a good or bad thing.

Many thanks (and belated birthday wishes) to Robbo the Llamabutcher for this quiz.

Carry on.

Can This Be True?!?!?!!

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader isn’t sure if lamenting or cheering is in order.

He is very conflicted. Very very conflicted…

Conflicted about this. He stated his concerns about this very thing happening over on Dead Sexy Sadie’s site.

Thanks to Victor for the link.

Carry on.

Calm Down

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader reads off the wire that having full sexual intercourse before giving a public speech will calm one’s nerves.

Since blogging is a type of public speaking he will resolve to have full sexual intercourse before typing every post.

It can’t hurt…

Carry on.

Not Surprised

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader must have been the only person in the western world to wake up this morning and NOT have been surprised by Hamas winning the majority of seats in the Palestinian parliament. Great jeezey chreezey people! Listening to Katie Couric and her ilk today was to be amused by the astonishment of that which should have been painfully evident.

Fatah is a failed, corrupt entity that has done nothing to ease the suffering of their people. Hamas is a vibrant, militant (terrorist) organization that does nothing to ease the suffering of their people, but fights the Israelis at every opportunity. If those were your choices who would you choose?

Where this turn of events takes the “peace process” is up in the air now. Your Maximum Leader expects things to get much worse before they get better.

Carry on.

Bid-ness & Best Wishes

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader has some bid-ness (as his homeys in the hood would say) to tae care of today in Richmond. So he doesn’t anticipate much activity today on the blog.

But before he goes he will doff his bejeweled floppy cap to the grand poobah of phishes. That would be our Loyal Minion Phin. Our friend Phin has been blogging for a year as of today. My how time flies.

Many happy (and funny) returns…

Excursus: Your Maximum Leader will start to lay odds on how often Phin will get to blog once the wee Phin is birthed… Contact your Maximum Leader for the latest lines.

Carry on.

Huzzah for BB&T!

A private corporation strikes a blow against the Kelo tyranny!
(more…)

Take Heart, Bill

The obstreperous Smallholder has been giving quite the ribbing to “Prancing Pony” Bill over at Bill’s Comments.

Friends tend to rib each other.

Believe me, Bill, you are getting off easy; you should have heard what I said when the Maximum Leader inadvertently confessed to “feeling pretty” in pantyhose the Maximum Leader said that time I showed up at his place in a french maid outfit and confessed to “needing a good swipe” with a feather duster…

For Bill

Here’s hoping Bill will return to active blogging soon.

In the meantime, I stumbled across a site sure to lift Bill’s spirit.

It Is Cool To Teach Advanced Placement Kids

One of my kids brought me a “They Might Be Giants” song today:

In 1844, the Democrats were split
The three nominees for the presidential candidate
Were Martin Van Buren, a former president and an abolitionist
James Buchanan, a moderate
Louis Cass, a general and expansionist
From Nashville came a dark horse riding up
He was James K. Polk, Napoleon of the Stump

Austere, severe, he held few people dear
His oratory filled his foes with fear
The factions soon agreed
He’s just the man we need
To bring about victory
Fulfill our manifest destiny
And annex the land the Mexicans command
And when the votes were cast the winner was
Mister James K. Polk, Napoleon of the Stump

In four short years he met his every goal
He seized the whole southwest from Mexico
Made sure the tarriffs fell
And made the English sell the Oregon territory
He built an independent treasury
Having done all this he sought no second term
But precious few have mourned the passing of
Mister James K. Polk, our eleventh president
Young Hickory, Napoleon of the Stump

UPDATE FROM YOUR MAXIMUM LEADER: Ah… James Knox Polk. In your Maximum Leader’s opinion, he is the fourth greatest President of the United States.

Robert Burns - Happy 246th

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader always likes to celebrate Robert Burns’ Birthday. It is a time for feasting and good cheer. Robert Burns was born this day, January 25th, in 1759. He is the greatest poet of Scotland - their Bard.

Tonight, your Maximum Leader (as he did last year) plans a Villainette & Wee Villain friendly Burns Supper. We’ll start with the Selkirk Grace. Then move on to Meatloaf (replacing the Haggis) and finish off with trifle. We’ll likely read some Burns poems.

Excursus: Your Maximum Leader is collecting all sorts of Haggis recipies for the upcoming Easter lamb-fest at the Smallholder’s farm. He needs to get with the Smallholder to make sure the innards are prepared correctly by the butcher… Butcher… Heh. Reminds your Maximum Leader of one of his favourite lines from one of his favourite Mike Myers movie… “So… Charlie teels me yewr a bootcher.”

At dinner tonight, your Maximum Leader will, most likely, be the only one drinking whisky. He will also, most likely, be the only one wearing a kilt. There is a chance that we can fit the Wee Villain into a little mini kilt we have. Perhaps this is an opportunity to photo-blog?

Your Maximum Leader will now present for your reading pleasure two Burns poems. The first is one is that great poem about the national drink of Scotland.

John Barleycorn: A Ballad

There was three kings into the east,
Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.

They took a plough and plough’d him down,
Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.

But the cheerful Spring came kindly on,
And show’rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surpris’d them all.

The sultry suns of Summer came,
And he grew thick and strong;
His head weel arm’d wi’ pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.

The sober Autumn enter’d mild,
When he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head
Show’d he began to fail.

His colour sicken’d more and more,
He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
To show their deadly rage.

They’ve taen a weapon, long and sharp,
And cut him by the knee;
Then tied him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.

They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgell’d him full sore;
They hung him up before the storm,
And turned him o’er and o’er.

They filledup a darksome pit
With water to the brim;
They heaved in John Barleycorn,
There let him sink or swim.

They laid him out upon the floor,
To work him farther woe;
And still, as signs of life appear’d,
They toss’d him to and fro.

They wasted, o’er a scorching flame,
The marrow of his bones;
But a miller us’d him worst of all,
For he crush’d him between two stones.

And they hae taen his very heart’s blood,
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.

John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise;
For if you do but taste his blood,
‘Twill make your courage rise.

‘Twill make a man forget his woe;
‘Twill heighten all his joy;
‘Twill make the widow’s heart to sing,
Tho’ the tear were in her eye.

Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne’er fail in old Scotland!

And here is the second. This one is for the ladies, of whom Burns (and your Maximum Leader) was quite fond.

My love is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June:
My love is like the melodie
That’s sweetly played in tune.

So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in love am I:
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till all the seas gang dry.

Till all the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt with the sun:
And I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands of life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only love.
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my love,
Though it were ten thousand mile.

Your Maximum Leader bids that you take a moment and read a Rabbie Burns poem today. And if you are so inclined, have a little dram of whisky to toast him too.

Carry on.

UPDATE: Read about Burns & Scotch with Eric and Brian.

Is Google being a little Hypocrytical?

I find it odd that Google refuses o supply to the US government raw search request data (not tying anyone’s personal search to the data mind you, just search criteria) so that the Law enforcement officials can determine the patterns that pedofiles use to look for child porn on the internet…..

Yet at the same time, they allow China to censor searches made by the Chineese citizens.

Hmmmm….. are they that greedy for dollars? Its ok to violate free speech in China but trying to protect children from predators is violating too much privacy?

Akkkk……

Memoirs of the Fictional Kind

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader has a cold. More specifically a cough. A cough he can’t seem to shake. He took it easy over the weekend to let this cough “run its course.” He self-medicated. He just can’t seem to get it to go away. If this cough was bird flu or something your Maximum Leader isn’t sure if he’s building immunity or just wasting away slowly.

Anyho…

With this cough, your Maximum Leader has found that laughing leads to wheezing, hacking, fall-out-of-his-chair-fits. And that is not a good thing. Well… It is not a good thing to cough, wheeze, hack, and fall out of your chair and hit your head on the corner of a table. Which is just what your Maximum Leader did when reading “Chip’s” memoir this morning.

Carry on.

Canadian Elections Over

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader is sure that if you were paying very close attention to the news this morning you might (just might - but only barely) caught a mention of the fact that the Conservatives “won” the Canadian general election yesterday. Your Maximum Leader thought that this type of news would be mentioned (promenently) in the news summary on the various news networks this morning. Nope. Barely a whisper. If you blinked or turned away you would have missed it.

It is very sad. Your Maximum Leader watched election returns last night on a CBC feed to C-Span. It was pretty interesting. If you’re into that type of thing. (Which by the way Mrs. Villain isn’t. She wanted to watch some tripe on Home and Garden network about redecorating your house on a “dime.” But in this case a “dime” is seekrit girlie code for $1000US.)

Your Maximum Leader is sad that the Canadian elections are over. Very sad in fact. Because now the long-running “Retard Cage Match of the Doomed” series over at Skippy’s blog will end. Here is the last entry. Your Maximum Leader has found Skippy’s commentary more insightful and interesting than anyone elses. So now he supposes that Skippy will go back to writing about porn and strippers he meets in the subway.

Carry on.

Beautifully Atrocious Turn of Phrase

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader wanted to doff his bejeweled floppy hat towards the great Pulitzer-prize winning Jeff. Jeff, yesterday published one of the best paragraphs of prose your Maximum Leader’s read in a long time. Allow him to reprint it in full:

… Please note I don’t hate all Muslims, just the ones who hang rape victims & stone gays & fly airplanes into the sides of buildings & blow themselves up in supermarkets & restaurants & police stations, as well as the vast & teeming hordes whose inscrutable silence tolls like a dirge for the sleep of reason & who dwell like medieval pilgrims in this modern world.

That is magnificent. Your Maximum Leader read over (and even spoke aloud) the line: “The vast and teeming hordes whose inscrutable silence tolls like a dirge for the sleep of reason…”

Excellent.

Carry on.

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