The Spector of Mr. Burns

Is it just me, or is there a familial resemblance between Phil Spector of Hollywood and Montgomery Burns of Springfield? Twins separated at birth?

Be Careful What You Ask For

 

The War Prayer

 by

Mark Twain

It was a time of great and exalting excitement. The country was up in arms, the war was on, in every breast burned the holy fire of patriotism; the drums were beating, the bands playing, the toy pistols popping, the bunched firecrackers hissing and spluttering; on every hand and far down the receding and fading spread of roofs and balconies a fluttering wilderness of flags flashed in the sun; daily the young volunteers marched down the wide avenue gay and fine in their new uniforms, the proud fathers and mothers and sisters and sweethearts cheering them with voices choked with happy emotion as they swung by; nightly the packed mass meetings listened, panting, to patriot oratory with stirred the deepest deeps of their hearts, and which they interrupted at briefest intervals with cyclones of applause, the tears running down their cheeks the while; in the churches the pastors preached devotion to flag and country, and invoked the God of Battles beseeching His aid in our good cause in outpourings of fervid eloquence which moved every listener.

It was indeed a glad and gracious time, and the half dozen rash spirits that ventured to disapprove of the war and cast a doubt upon its righteousness straightway got such a stern and angry warning that for their personal safety’s sake they quickly shrank out of sight and offended no more in that way.

Sunday morning came—next day the battalions would leave for the front; the church was filled; the volunteers were there, their young faces alight with martial dreams—visions of the stern advance, the gathering momentum, the rushing charge, the flashing sabers, the flight of the foe, the tumult, the enveloping smoke, the fierce pursuit, the surrender!

Then home from the war, bronzed heroes, welcomed, adored, submerged in golden seas of glory! With the volunteers sat their dear ones, proud, happy, and envied by the neighbors and friends who had no sons and brothers to send forth to the field of honor, there to win for the flag, or, failing, die the noblest of noble deaths. The service proceeded; a war chapter from the Old Testament was read; the first prayer was said; it was followed by an organ burst that shook the building, and with one impulse the house rose, with glowing eyes and beating hearts, and poured out that tremendous invocation:

God the all-terrible! Thou who ordainest,
Thunder thy clarion and lightning thy sword!

Then came the “long” prayer. None could remember the like of it for passionate pleading and moving and beautiful language. The burden of its supplication was, that an ever-merciful and benignant Father of us all would watch over our noble young soldiers, and aid, comfort, and encourage them in their patriotic work; bless them, shield them in the day of battle and the hour of peril, bear them in His mighty hand, make them strong and confident, invincible in the bloody onset; help them crush the foe, grant to them and to their flag and country imperishable honor and glory—

An aged stranger entered and moved with slow and noiseless step up the main aisle, his eyes fixed upon the minister, his long body clothed in a robe that reached to his feet, his head bare, his white hair descending in a frothy cataract to his shoulders, his seamy face unnaturally pale, pale even to ghastliness. With all eyes following him and wondering, he made his silent way; without pausing, he ascended to the preacher’s side and stood there waiting. With shut lids the preacher, unconscious of his presence, continued his moving prayer, and at last finished it with the words, uttered in fervent appeal, “Bless our arms, grant us the victory, O Lord and God, Father and Protector of our land and flag!”

The stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside—which the startled minister did—and took his place. During some moments he surveyed the spellbound audience with solemn eyes, in which burned an uncanny light; then in a deep voice he said:

“I come from the Throne—bearing a message from Almighty God!” The words smote the house with a shock; if the stranger perceived it he gave no attention. “He has heard the prayer of His servant your shepherd, and will grant it if such be your desire after I, His messenger, shall have explained to you its import—that is to say, its full import. For it is like unto many of the prayers of men, in that it asks for more than he who utters it is aware of—except he pause and think. “God’s servant and yours has prayed his prayer. Has he paused and taken thought? Is it one prayer? No, it is two—one uttered, and the other not. Both have reached the ear of Him who heareth all supplications, the spoken and the unspoken. Ponder this—keep it in mind. If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon your neighbor at the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain on your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse on some neighbor’s crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.

“You have heard your servant’s prayer—the uttered part of it. I am commissioned by God to put into words the other part of it—that part which the pastor—and also you in your hearts—fervently prayed silently. And ignorantly and unthinkingly? God grant that it was so! You heard the words ‘Grant us the victory, O Lord our God!’ That is sufficient. The whole of the uttered prayer is compact into those pregnant words. Elaborations were not necessary. When you have prayed for victory you have prayed for many unmentioned results which follow victory—must follow it, cannot help but follow it. Upon the listening spirit of God fell also the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it into words. Listen!

“Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth into battle—be Thou near them! With them—in spirit—we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with their little children to wander unfriended in the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames in summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it—

For our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimmage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet!

We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.

(After a pause.) “Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak! The messenger of the Most High waits.”

---

It was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there was no sense in what he said.

Foxchase

Just another happy couple out for a midnight jog.

Party Animals

 These foxes go out more, and stay out later than any humans I know. At least in the past ten months.

The Little Foxes

 

That Could Never Happen Here.

When I was a kid, way back into another century, people used to act superior to our defeated enemies in other nations. "That could never happen here," they would say about the barbaric policies and medical experiments undertaken by totalitarian regimes. Of course at the same time the Tuskegee syphilis experiment was going on here at home and states were sterilizing the "unfit" in their care, but hey, what do I know. So don't you worry about death panels. They are from the government and they are here to help you. That could never happen here.

That Could Never Happen Here - We'll Do It There

In a previous post, That Could Never Happen Here, I discussed a certain aspect of American hubris regarding government medical programs. I mentioned the Tuskegee Experiment an example of what has happened here. Now evidence of the continuation of that "medical study" has emerged. Dr. John Cutler, with the U.S. Public Health Service, was involved in both experiments. The new evidence details a U.S. funded Guatemalan syphilis experiment conducted on prison inmates. So, if it can't happen here, but did, and it needs to go to another level that can't happen here, we export what can't happen here -- to Guatemala or wherever. Never say never. UPDATE: Now a federal judge has allowed a one billion dollar law suit related to the Guatemalan syphilis experiment to go forward.

1940 Blockade and Monty R Duel in Maryland Timber Racing

In 2007 The Chronicle of the Horse magazine published my article about Monty R and the 1940 Maryland timber racing season. In 2010 I gave the article to Ric Cottom to adapt for his WYPR Public Radio segment, Your Maryland. I missed the broadcast when it finally aired in 2014, but recently found it in the WYPR podcast archive. You can listen to it by clicking here. Or read the article with photos by clicking here.

Fake News - There's fiction, there's non fiction and there's what you read in the newspaper or on the web.

Or hear on the air.

Joseph Pulitzer and William Randolph Hearst invented "yellow journalism."

H. L. Mencken was a practitioner of the fine art of creative reporting.

Two examples of  Mencken's work are at the links below for your listening pleasure:

https://www.wypr.org/post/menckens-synthesis-news

http://wypr.org/post/bathtub-hoax-0

Thanksgiving Weekend Walk

The Sunday after Thanksgiving I hiked along the Patapsco River from Alberton Road to the Dorsey tunnel and back. It was a beautiful afternoon and the late afternoon light on the river glowed. All saw a weathered tree stump that one friend described as looking like "upright driftwood."

San Francisco and the Bay Area

After San Diego, Chris and I flew into Oakland Airport and were picked up by an old friend, Mike Snider. He put us up for three nights and gave us a whirlwind tour of San Francisco and Point Reyes National Park in Marin County, north of SF. Had dinner at a great little restaurant in Berkley. Also drove down to Monterey and Carmel by the Sea. We had a great time.

San Diego

Went to San Diego in late September with Chris. He wanted to tour the Taylor Guitar factory in El Cajon. We also visited the San Diego Mission that was the origin of the city, and we toured the carrier Midway, which is now a floating museum on San Diego Bay. Oh, and we saw Cindy Lauper in concert at the hotel where we stayed. Beautiful weather.

Blizzard 2016

When you have a blizzard you need to hire local crews. All these guys and a gal did a great job helping me dig out.

The Library of Congress - Washington's Most Beautiful Piece of Architecture

Jericho Covered Bridge Under Reconstruction

    The bridge spans the Little Gunpowder Falls near Jerusalem Mill and connects Baltimore and        
    Hartford County. Go to this link and this link to see the bridge as it was a year ago.

                 

                            A yellow fungus or mold is growing up the trunk of the tree above.

Busy Beavers and a Stubborn Maple

     Hiking yesterday I encountered two things of interest; a beaver lodge at Meadowbrook Park in
     Howard County and a stubbornly green maple among the naked trees along the Patapsco River
     Valley in the Daniels sections of Howard County.

Steam Train Penstock in Use

Two years ago I took the above photo of the penstock at the old Western Maryland Railroad station in Cumberland, Maryland. This past weekend I was in Cumberland again and took the photo below which shows the penstock in use supplying water to the tender of the Western Maryland Scenic Railroad steam engine 734.

Brice Run

         Hiked Alberton Road along the Patapsco River to Brice Run and sat by the little falls there.

             On the return walk I saw these geese on the river. I think they are staying the winter.

On the Appalachian Trail in Maryland

Hiked a short section of the AT today with my brother Chris. We ran into a section hiker named Don. He  makes us look like pikers. He is 70 and so far has hiked 1,600 miles of the 2,200 mile trail whenever he can get away from work. Yeah, he is still working after retiring from teaching. This morning, hiking alone, he started at Dahlgren Backpack Camp and was headed north for a shelter just above of Rt 40. He does about 10 miles a day.  We met Don at an elevation of 1,350 feet at GPS coordinates 39 30 28 N and 77 37 16 W.  Go Don!

                                                                      Don

We were headed south to the Washington Monument built by citizens of Boonsboro, Maryland in 1827 and restored by the CCC, Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s during the Depression.

Washington Monument

                                   View from the base of the Washington Monument.

Access to the inside and top of the monument is currently blocked because it was struck by lightning in August 2015 and the structure is being evaluated  for safety.

                             Large paper wasp nest we encountered just to the side of the trail.

                                                     The AT footbridge over I-70

Greenbriar State Park