Ditch Doc

Hey Dz, check out where your climate change link led me:

Sixty scientists write letter to Stephen Harper critical of climate change alarmism.

Scroll to the bottom and check out the scientists, too.

I’ve finally discovered how to keep the seat next to you on the bus unoccupied while maintaining a decent state of hygiene: when the bus comes to a stop, all you have to do is be sincerely and unfeignedly asleep on it. Nothing convinces like the truth, it turns out. “But I can’t sleep on buses!” Well, that’s because you don’t have enough luggage. If your backpack with your coat crunched up on top is shoulder high in the coveted next seat, and you sleep on it, nothing will wake you until Cosacks raid the bus and take your bag.

Like the other night, when I finished up a ten hour lab day in Calgary, stumbled out into the snow, and wandered through the streets looking for a burger joint. No burger joint appeared, and I slowly became aware that I had wandered myself into the ritziest part of what should be a far more down-to-earth city. Music thumped vaguely out of every door, and as club followed club, I wondered how much I was willing to pay to stop walking. I was about to bypass yet another polished, unfriendly house of overpriced dim lighting when I glanced out of my hood and saw the first approximation of my state of dress in the last several blocks. Our paths converged just as a sleek black overcoat stood out of the Mercedes at the curb. My fellow itinerant sized me up: unshaven, hands in pockets, no car, coat too heavy for the chinook. I watched his gaze shift, and as I passed the car, the first words I’d heard in an hour of glittering lucre were: “Hey, can you spare some change?”

…stands for three things:

1. Ordo Sancti Benedicti

2. Oriented strand board

3. Okanagan Springs Brewery

Romantic country song:

She was the picture of grace and beauty, but she left me.

Romantic pop song:

She was the picture of grace and beauty, but I cheated on her.

The Book of Proverbs:

For the lips of a harlot are like a honeycomb dropping, and her throat is smoother than oil. But her end is bitter as wormwood, and sharp as a two-edged sword.

Romantic Irish song:

She was the picture of grace and beauty, and then she stole my clothes and sold me to the English.

I heard this one from a holy Fraternity of St. Peter priest, and I have pretty strong traddy leanings myself, so I think this one won’t offer too much offense:

Q: How many Traditional Catholics does it take to change a lightbulb?

A: CHANGE??

Even official discussion of a horrifying crime can be an occasion of good writing. A condemnation written with mastery of the language and the ear carries so much more authority than a dry one. Although the severity of the crime prevents any rejoicing over the passage, this exerpt from a press release of the BC College of Physicians and Surgeons is a beautiful example:

Dr. X’s actions constituted “turpitude of a marked character involving inherent wickedness, dishonesty and disgraceful conduct”. The Council of the College endorsed that opinion and expressed its unqualified condemnation and complete denunciation of the conduct…