A shrink friend of mine once told me that the world of sleep-time dreams had a saucy and silly facet in its firmament -- the most sublime things eliciting a torrent of wracking tears or the most horrific spawning uncontrollable laughter. Or, what ought to be metaphorical segues into the literal ... or vice versa.
It was in this realm that I woke this morning -- Easter morning by Christian reckoning -- wondering if the arcade game Whac-a-Mole took its inception from the resurrection story in Christian tale-telling and ritual: You can't keep a good (wo)man down no matter how tightly s/he is affixed to the latest cross. Saviors, to borrow someone else's words, "take a lickin' and keep on tickin'."
Resurrection is a way of life, but you gotta die first, right?
Those who may think I am flipping Christianity the bird might consider the discovery last year of the coffins of five (that's FIVE) archbishops of Canterbury stacked on top of each other and accidentally uncovered at a construction site. "Lost archbishops," the headline notes. How the hell do you lose an archbishop? Stacked on top of eachother ... "piled higgledy-piggledy on top of each other" ,,, sorta like Crest toothpaste in WalMart. Dead is dead, whatever the dreams may be ... but you gotta wonder how come these heavy hitters were ... ummmm ... stacked up like cord wood. Were officials pressed for space? Were they less smarmy than those who might come later?
Every moment a life. Every moment a death. Every moment a resurrection.
The pope excoriates the gas and other atrocities in Syria in his Easter message.
The United States pays homage to North Korea, which is managing to be the single biggest resuscitator of the war footing that will allow Donald Trump not to address serious issues in the United States ... the ones that put him in office in the first place but have yet to acknowledge the fact that they have been sold out. A small armada with a lot of U.S. fire power is Korean-Peninsula bound.
The savior wears so many guises, comes in so many forms. Again and again, s/he rolls back the rock that was put in place after the last great horror. Again and again, resurrection is the theme and the fact and, when spoken about with the numbing solemnity of the moment, the cowardice.
Whac-a-mole, thou art risen.
PS. Please forgive me, but I am lazy and don't reread and allow my mind to wander without filling in the blank spots these days. I write because there's space to write and it may be better than picking my nose. But the illusions are fading ... imagining I could convince anyone to do or not to do. No one can convince anyone else. People convince themselves ... or not.
Ergo ... ?
|After weeks of suspense, April the giraffe finally gave birth on Saturday to a baby boy, delighting of hundreds of thousands of people who have been monitoring a live cam feed from a New York zoo in anticipation of the long-overdue event.|