The Roundtable Salon Discussion went well.

Victor and I hit Dragonmead, the finest brewpub in southeastern Michigan, and we traded off pints of the various fermented beverages, settling early on "Crusader," a fine mild dark ale.

Mike's Hard Lemonade was dissed, as was my enjoyment of The Guru (Mr. Morton: "Heather Graham can't act without roller skates"; Me: "And?"). The Coen Brothers movies were ranked, with Fargo lauded as the most sincere of their films, especially as a paean to small-town life (Brainerd vs. Minneapolis) and its virtues. I asserted that Frances McDormand's sheriff remains the finest and most compelling depiction of Good in modern film (after all, Evil is comparatively easy to make interesting--just ask Milton and Dante).

Somewhat surprisingly, Mr. Morton pronounced himself a conscientious objector in the Liturgy Wars, only requiring that things not get too wacky. Or zany. Or goofy. I forget which.

The decay of "rational basis" review was also raised and deplored, the Tigers praised (they eked out a win against the Tribe on Monday night), distributism and Costco glanced upon and so forth.

Yes, I'd be happy to take it on the road, only requiring a modest stipend and a glancingly-reviewed expense account. Contact me for details and availability.

Mr. Morton drove to Detroit/Mr. Morton drove...

Anyone within striking distance of Motown is hereby invited a roundtable discussion of topics of general interest at a TBD brewpub on Monday evening. The guest of honor will be Victor Morton, Washington Times editor, film critic, raconteur and transplanted Texan living the life of Reilly inside the Beltway.

Discussions will include such diverse topics as:

• Luc Besson, Hollywood Sellout--yea or nay?
• France--Would 2 or 3 more EuroDisneys make a difference?
• War in the Middle East
• The best prank on The Man Show (Kimmel edition) (my vote: the petition drive to "End The Suffrage"--no, that's not a typo).
• The NBA's new offense-friendly rules: Abomination or Atrocity?
• What's with our waitress, anyway--have we suddenly turned invisible?
• Piskie bashing
• "Mike's Hard Lemonade"?! Next you'll be getting your right ear pierced...
• Catholic liturgical reform
• The NFL
• Favorite pre-Protestant Reformation Popes and, most crucial of them all:
• Do Scotsmen ever pick up the tab?

And yes, because drink is the curse of his people, malt beverages will be quaffed and bar food consumed, so prepare accordingly.

The National Weather Service has just issued a Posturing, Hypocritical Fraud Warning for all of southeastern Michigan.

A brief memo to Bp. Thomas Gumbleton (Ret.).

Your Excellency:

I noticed this paragraph in your most recent homily, published in the National Catholic Reporter:

I think of World War II as an example where our church failed in the face of a tyranny and an evil that was unbelievably evil -- the Nazi tyranny. The church in Germany failed to speak a prophetic word to that tyranny. Why? Because they had entered into an agreement with the Nazi dictatorship in 1933. Hitler would allow the church to have its schools if the bishops of the church would agree they would not allow their priests to preach any so-called political message. And so the Church became virtually silent during those years. There were a few exceptions -- a peasant in Austria, Franz Jägerstätter, and a few others like him said, “No! I won’t serve in Hitler’s army,” and he was executed. A whole group of young people connected with the universities called the White Rose group -- the same thing -- they spoke the truth; most of them were executed. The church refused to listen. It was more concerned about its institutional structures than about God’s Word. So we failed.

While the behavior of Church leadership regarding the Shoah is a worthy topic of discussion (count me as one who thinks more could have been done), I find your criticism to be ironic, given your own track record.

Just what explains your consistent refusal "to speak a prophetic word" to the tyrannies you have visited in "solidarity" during your lifetime (e.g., Castro's Cuba, Hussein's Iraq, Aristide's Haiti, Arafat's Palestine)? I'm also coming up empty looking for examples of "prophetic words" spoken by yourself to the Soviet Union, so any insight you could provide on that would be welcome.

Beams, specks and all that.

Sincerely,

Dale Price

[H/T to Gerald.]

Why Iconoclasm is Heretical.

Fr. Joseph Komonchak at Commonweal reminds us with pictures of sculptures by Niccolo dell'Arca.

Oh, and because I haven't posted anything about Byzantium for a few weeks:

A brief historical note--Iconoclasm is probably the least organic of the Christian heresies, being imposed solely by the will of the Byzantine Emperor Leo III (reigned 717-741). Leo, whom we have ample reason to thank for his brilliant defense of Constantinople during the final Arab Muslim siege of 717-18 (a victory far more earth-shaking than Martel's still-essential victory at Tours fifteen years later), blamed Christian use of icons for military reverses in the 720s. Consequently, he promulgated a decree banning their use ca. 725.

To be fair, iconoclasts had some legitimate complaints--use of images by Christians in that time could be borderline idolatrous, with there being some recorded instances of icons standing as godparents for baptisms. Nevertheless, the iconoclasts went too far, especially Leo's son and successor, Constantine V (reigned 741-75), who unleashed a series of bloody persecutions of iconophiles and went further, outlawing any intercessory prayers involving the saints. Constantine was so hated by iconophiles that he was given a nickname after his death--"Copronymous", which is Greek for "Name of Dung."

Iconoclasm would sputter on in fits and starts after the death of Constantine V, with rulers taking it up or abandoning it periodically--even after the Second Council of Nicaea condemned it in 787. Nevertheless, no succeeding iconoclast emperor would approach the savagery of Copronymous. The last iconoclast ruler was Theophilus, who died in 842. Immediately after his death, iconoclasm was again outlawed, without a peep of protest from either clergy or laity. As heresies go, iconoclasm was entirely artificial and foreign to the Christian worldview, and the absence of a popular movement to continue it shows that.

Which offers a note of hope for those suffering from the stripping of the altars in our time.

Ben Stein is a class act.

Exhibit MMLXVIII.

This is just the way he is with members of the armed services and their families. I speak from semi-personal experience: he sent a very kind note to my sister-in-law after she wrote thanking him for his essay praising the courage of military wives who man the fort while their husbands are overseas.

Belated happy birthday wishes to Thomas Fitzpatrick!

42 is not--NOT--old, not so by the way.

Plenty of other good stuff over at Recta Ratio, too--starting with an Aramaic transliteration of the Lord's Prayer, links about the Carmelite Martyrs of Compiegne, and a reflection about his devotion to Our Lady of Mount Carmel.

Even more belated--do not miss his joint blog concerning devotion to the Sacred and Immaculate Hearts, called The Two Hearts Ablaze. He sent word of this weeks ago, but, well....life is full of detours.

Things To Do In SanFran When You're (Morally) Dead.

You can chant doggerel in support of Islamofascism.

Less than ten blocks away from Castro Street, natch.

Uncle Di's right--Satirists are going the way of phrenologists, alchemists and Whig Party ward bosses.

A non-consummation devoutly to be wished.

Many, many thanks go to reader and U.S. Navy Commander Glenn Cooper for this one.

And more thanks for your service, Commander.

Adventures In Home Ownership, Chapter MMMCXIX.

On Wednesday, I went to Home Depot and ordered up a new hot water heater.

On Thursday, the installer arrived, inspected our current set up, and visibly blanched. "Your current set up is dangerous, and I'd have to do another $1000 to get it up to code."

No problemo! Would you like that in nickels?

Another gift that keeps on giving from the miraculously-sentient pile of rectal scrapings that sold us our house, of course.

In fact, there's no good way to install another gas burning heater in our current location--we have to have an electric heater installed.

Which, of course, will require an electrician to drop by to string the 220 cable to our current breaker box.

After an extensive, but ultimately futile search in the yellow pages for a category called "Mob Hits", I made arrangements with an electrician.

Can do, for $350.

Fine--the kids are finicky eaters, anyway--cutting out that third daily meal will be a snap.

Gotta do what you gotta do.

I go to the Despot and order an electric heater--the installer who had been out earlier made a recommendation for a short one, as the service counter staffer informed me (Electrics tend to be shorter--gas ones are the tall boys). Hey, good news--it's on clearance, too!

Great!

Fast forward to 11am Friday. No call yet from the heater installation folks. After finally getting a valid number to contact them [are those fumes?], I am informed that there's a problem.

Installer: "Why'd you get the short one--it's too small for the space."

Me: [Feeling the slow, but distinctive stirrings of beserkergang]: "'I' didn't get the short one--that was the recommendation by your guy yesterday, after viewing the space in question."

Installer: "Well, that's not going to work. I'll look for another one. Anyway, since you still got hot water, it's not going to get done before Monday."

Erik Bloodaxe: "I got a leak that's getting worse by the hour--we're talking wringing out towels here. This is been going on for I don't know how long. I need it done today."

[Unmistakeable sound of double-bladed axe embedding in desk.]

Installer: "Um, okay--I'll get back to you soon as I can."

Idle time passes.

Heather calls: "The lady from Home Depot called [note the installer's deft buck passing]. They can't get a suitable tank for two weeks.

Me: "... . Okay. I'll call to cancel. I'll figure out something."

After calling the Despot, I call Dad and Mom, telling them that we aren't going to be able to make it up this weekend. I explain the hot water heater problem.

Dad: "I have a brand new 30 gallon down at the old cabin."

Me: "!"

I give him the dimensions, and he calls back.

It'll fit.

Mom and Dad: "We'll bring it down tonight."

Me: "[Awed and humbled.]"

Now we just need an installer.

Phase I of Tarting Up Stately Price Manor is Now Complete.

We've been planning it for months, and now it begins. As always, our home improvements are occasioned by daring (read: cheap) ideas in renovation. Sometimes, I've been quite literally hosed by the daringness of the former owner's decisionmaking. I'll set aside the issue of mummified animal carcasses for another day.

Jackhole.

So, yesterday the painters were in and put a couple of coats of washable Sherwin Williams up around our combination kitchen/dining room/laundry room. Have I mentioned that Casa Del Price is shrinking faster than the trash compactor on the Death Star from Episode IV?

A little background here. A couple years back, Heather and I took a day and painted the hallway and kitchen. The hallway still needs some touchup, but we are otherwise satisfied with it.

But the kitchen...well, to be honest, we never quite completed it. The primer and the first coat, sure...But then the short demanding people began filing into the house, and good intentions turned into a dead end. No more. This year, it gets done--and done right.

Anyhoo--As always, SW offers a baffling selection of paint tones, some of which require visual spectra which reach into the far infrared in order to discern the alleged differences. No sir--SW will not be shackled by the conventions of primary colors. Not when it can offer you Tendentious Teal, Meditational Taupe, Soporific Beige or a bazillion other shades. Fortunately, Heather picked up some paint chips and we agreed on a suitably neutral tone. We had been gently advised that our previous color, False Dawn Over Los Alamos Yellow (which we liked) was a bit of a turnoff.

We told them what we were looking for, gave them the tone and they showed up, raring to go. Boom--done. If you need painters in the Metro Detroit area, I have your guys. All About Painting--seriously, I have the numbers.

But. And there's always a catch. The painters discovered that our hot water heater is leaking (yes, it's in the "great room," too). Got to get that addressed, pronto.

The floor installers are in in two weeks. Heaven only knows what they will find.

Ah, yes--Sports.

Or "Sport," for the Anglophilic among us.

(1) The Captain sails into retirement. The best hockey player I ever had the privilege to see play. Hands down.

After 22 seasons, his body simply could not take any more. Better to be able to walk and have an active life with his wife and three daughters than risk another season. We will miss him--a class guy and a Detroit legend.

(2) Ben, we hardly knew ye...
But to the Bulls? That's what really stings. Somehow, Ben developed the notion that he was not respected here, and in retrospect it really showed during the last season. Too bad--another class guy and good citizen. But he's not going to make the Bulls contenders for anything other than the division title--and then, not for long. Welcome aboard, Nazr Mohammed!

(3) The Tigers. Hey, they're the Pope's team. What more needs to be said?

(4) Oh, and yes, the World Cup. It's down to France vs. Italy. I guess I'm rooting for the Fifth Republic in this one. (1) Heather's a Francophile, and (2) I have it on unimpeachable authority that the Italians are to soccer what the clutch and grab is to hockey. Any thoughts, soccerphiles (or Francophobes)?

I'm just thankful it's a sporting competition between the two countries and not a military confrontation. The latter would be like watching two quadruple amputees trying to have a slap fight.