My favorite Star Trek: TOS character, hands down, was Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott.

Alas, James Doohan has passed away today at 85.

[Update:] Whoa! The Free Press had another, more detailed obituary with fascinating details about the man's life:

At 19, James escaped the turmoil at home by joining the Canadian army, becoming a lieutenant in artillery. He was among the Canadian forces that landed on Juno Beach on D-Day. "The sea was rough," he recalled. "We were more afraid of drowning than the Germans."

The Canadians crossed a minefield laid for tanks; the soldiers weren't heavy enough to detonate the bombs. At 11:30 that night, he was machine-gunned, taking six hits: one that took off his middle right finger (he managed to hide the missing finger on screen), four in his leg and one in the chest. Fortunately the chest bullet was stopped by his silver cigarette case.

Then there's the fact he had nine children, the last of whom was born five years ago.

In the public arena, all morality is dictated.

Responding to a comment by Jamie in the comments box in the prior post:

There is no such animal as a values-neutral society. It cannot be built. In fact, it cannot even be imagined--not even by John Lennon. Every act by the governing whatever of every society in history has involved the determination of what is moral followed by the imposition of said morality. Even refusing to act is a moral judgment.

Bluntly, it boils down to whose ox is getting gored.

Make no mistake: the Massachusetts Supreme Court in Goodridge no less than the voters of the State of Ohio last November imposed a moral judgment with respect to marriage upon the rest of the State's citizenry. Those who do not share the moral outlook of the Massachusetts Supreme Court were dictated to just as coercively as those who were on the losing end of the Ohio ballot initiative.

Every criminal conviction in the land is an imposition of morality, whether the crime is serial murder or computer hacking. Ditto the determination of whether something is constitutional or not.

Every legislative act--from the regulation of abortion, to age of consent laws, to alcohol regulation, to revisions of the Bankruptcy Code--involves a moral determination and the imposition of same.

The Civil Rights Act of 1964, with its judgment on the equality of human personhood regardless of race, creed, color, sex or national origin, was a sweeping imposition of morality, right down to the regulation of the local supermarket. That it was, indeed, the objectively moral and proper action makes it no less an imposition. The law changed, and hearts followed. Even George Wallace's.

But, for some reason, the 21st Century alarm bells only go off when the banner under which the policy change is advanced is explicitly religious (read: so-called "conservative" Christian). The banner of strictly secular moral judgment, usually emblazoned with "fairness", "equality" or "rights," some of which I can support, and some of which I can't, somehow evades the "you’re imposing your values!" detector.

Odd, that.

Now hear this.

1. I have no opinion on the Harry Potter books. None whatsoever. I haven't read a one of them yet. Some of the criticism strikes me as overheated, as does some of the praise. Apart from that--nada.

2. I have, at long last, updated the blogroll (check the bottom of the 'roll). Position on the blogroll is not indicative of anything other than my increasing despair at the prospect of ever giving the thing some semblance of organization. If I've missed your blog, let me know, and I will do my best to get it 'rolled before 2006.

Especially unctious missives larded with praise for yours truly will accelerate the process.

Unless, of course, I dislike you.

Hilary has left the building.

For good reasons, but that still doesn't make me any happier about it.

Prayers are appropriate.

You will be missed.

Fun with your missalette!

If your parish is typical, it uses the Breaking Bread missalette from OCP. Without publishing the actual scripture readings, it does offer the citations used in the day's liturgy, and brief one-to-three sentence commentaries introducing the readings.

I've noticed something about the introductions to the Old and New Testament readings:

They never, ever refer to God the Father as "he." They use every circumlocution in the book, however awkward, to avoid this, even where the personal pronoun would make for a better reading. Take a look--if you can find a counter-example, let me know.

Fair warning, though--you won't.

Yep-per, the establishment is embracing Liturgiam Authenticam with gratifying enthusiasm.

Stop sending in your submissions...

...because, if the facts hold up, we have our runaway winner for 2005 A--hole of the Year.

This is flat-out evil:

Mark R. Downs Jr., 27, of Dunbar, offered one of his players $25 to hit the boy in the head with a baseball, police said. Witnesses told police Downs didn't want the boy to play in the T-ball game because of his disability.
The solicited player hit the boy in the head and in the groin with a baseball just before a game, and the disabled boy didn't play, police said.

If convicted, I hope that he gets sentenced to take a couple of Curt Schilling heaters to the groin before he goes to prison.

A Velvet Elvis made with golden thread...

...is still a Velvet Elvis.

Jim Manney posts about the St. John's Abbey illuminated Bible project.

Alas, the project enshrines the most cack-handed, neutered translation currently in print, the New Revised Standard Version. A translation expressly disapproved by Rome, but, then again, that's probably the point.

Oh, to be a cutting-edge religious. What with all the increasing elbow-room in the abbeys, and suchlike.

Why not the Douay, in one of its iterations? The Knox?

Nah--too faithful to tradition.

It's more than a little like someone painstakingly studying, re-creating and applying the techniques and materials of a Da Vinci, Michelangelo or Bernini to preserve "Dogs Playing Poker" for posterity.

Habemus Hockeiam!

As Bryan notes, we have a CBA.

But.

I have seen the future, and it stinks. The Wings will be fine--the management is smart enough to adjust, and the scouting system is one of the best. Still, I resent the hard cap--it rewards the "stop me before I spend again" owners without sufficient neurons to control themselves, and punishes teams with the resources to do more.

And I will not weep for the small market hardliners when they are forced to sell or flat-out contract.

That's because the agreement can do nothing to address this fact:

Hockey is not the fourth major sport--NASCAR is.

Hockey is a sport with regional appeal. That's it. Texas Hold 'Em tournaments have drawn better ratings on ESPN. That doesn't mean hockey is not a great sport--it is. There is nothing like the drama of overtime playoff hockey--nothing. But it will always--barring the arrival of a hockey equivalent of Michael Jordan--be a sport with structural limitations to its appeal. The great levelling of this CBA won't change that.

All-Star Moment.

There are times when my pride in the city of Detroit is untarnished. The cheer for the playing of God Save The Queen at MLB's All-Star Game was one of those times.

Good job, Motown.

And the loud booing of consummate jerk Kenny Rogers was almost as good.

And Beantowners, look up for a moment: Bonderman should have been on the roster, Francona, not Clement. I know, peace in the locker room and all that. Maybe you should have twisted some arms to get Rogers to stay home, at the very least.

Weird feeling: the B-2 Stealth bomber flew over our neighborhood three times during the festivities. Was that some kind of hint?

Yep.

Still around, still alive. I had an unusually hectic 10 day vacation which began and ended with us scrambling (we got back Tuesday), but was otherwise good.

Last Sunday, I was honored to be a groomsman at the wedding of the smartest man I've ever met, and am happy to report that his choice of bride only confirms his intelligence. Though an air-conditioned chapel would be nice--but that's the fault of the alma mater, not him.

I am still getting up to speed, so continued patience is warranted if you expect a fisking fury or suchlike.

Frankly, I need a beer.

Busy.

This explains the lack of content, along with difficulties in using Blogger. More soon--I hope.

If you thought I'd ceased blogging, you're going to have to screw the caps back on the celebratory bottles of Ripple.

No such luck.