1.17.2007
1.16.2007
Internet Shriners?
I used to teach English at Hokuryo Junior High in Nangoku City; who'd've thought the old stomping grounds would one day reach the spotlight for heresy?
You can visit the Shingu Jinja website here, but it's all in Japanese. And since the shrine is dedicated to safe childbirth, you can see an album of success stories here.
1.14.2007
Eternal Springs
Much much worse things have happened in the last week. These are things that were both worse and actually unpredictable. People have, in the last week, lost their lives in events that no one in their right minds could have predicted.
I mean, really, Chargers fans know, like mayflies, how long their season in the sun will last. They know, better than any member of the Light Brigade, just how silly it is to hold out hope that this will all work out. Those strapping Aussie blokes at Galipoli might have gotten their runner at the last moment to save them, but San Diegans know at the beginning of the season that no such runner is coming to save them.
And yet we somehow allow ourselves to hope, as the wins pile up, as the team pulls itself together, that this time, this time it may actually mean something. And when we pull ahead 21 to 13 with five minutes left in the 4th quarter, why, think no less of us when we allow the slightest glimmer of hope to alight in the corners of our eyes.
The true Chargers fan, however, in a moment like that, is forgiven, by plenary indulgence conferred at birth, for muttering blasphemous exhortations under his breath, for he knows, as by Gnostic wisdom, what lies in store, and he is rightly angered to have been teased by whatever cold, manipulative deity cursed his team in the early days of the NFL to be often the bridesmaid and never the bride.
And when the time is up and the other fellows congratulate themselves on their team's win, well, the true Chargers fan shakes his head, drinks his beer, and says:
Typical.
I mean, really, Chargers fans know, like mayflies, how long their season in the sun will last. They know, better than any member of the Light Brigade, just how silly it is to hold out hope that this will all work out. Those strapping Aussie blokes at Galipoli might have gotten their runner at the last moment to save them, but San Diegans know at the beginning of the season that no such runner is coming to save them.
And yet we somehow allow ourselves to hope, as the wins pile up, as the team pulls itself together, that this time, this time it may actually mean something. And when we pull ahead 21 to 13 with five minutes left in the 4th quarter, why, think no less of us when we allow the slightest glimmer of hope to alight in the corners of our eyes.
The true Chargers fan, however, in a moment like that, is forgiven, by plenary indulgence conferred at birth, for muttering blasphemous exhortations under his breath, for he knows, as by Gnostic wisdom, what lies in store, and he is rightly angered to have been teased by whatever cold, manipulative deity cursed his team in the early days of the NFL to be often the bridesmaid and never the bride.
And when the time is up and the other fellows congratulate themselves on their team's win, well, the true Chargers fan shakes his head, drinks his beer, and says:
Typical.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)