An English In Kentucky


















Tuesday February 12th 2013    Tim Candler

    I read recently, in a reputable handbook of Japanese origin, that a wireless device, one of those hand held things that communicate with others through invisible waves, should be switched off when in the presence of a fellow creature who is clinging to existence following a surgical procedure that implants what is casually referred to as a 'pacemaker.'  The master control or motherboard of this contraption is stitched into the chest some inches from the heart, and it has wires that run  through the major veins into the aorta, or ventricle or one or other or both of these often emotional muscles.  And I guess, if as a person you achieve grandiosity of position, possession of such an implanted device necessarily should be kept secret, otherwise its a little like being born with a clubbed foot or twelve toes, and there's legacy to consider. Maybe I'm wrong, but that face in the mirror staring back will one day be a Saint or a President, otherwise why 'f' with grandiosity. And in my mind there is absolutely no way a person can be considered for the status of  Servant of God if during his life time he succumbs to some kind of venal ancillary contrivance through which to defy the Will of God.  A worship of idols, I'd call it.

    There is no reason to suppose the Vatican is any  more or less rife with intrigue and ambition than other bodies that rule our world.  As well I am given to understand that 'pacemakers' can be hacked by the diabolical, who might share my view that possession of a 'pacemaker' is an expression of vanity, which in its old fashioned sense meant 'futile' or something like 'obvious boasting.'  And although Manufacturers of 'pacemakers' will insist that so long as any of a billion and one hand held wireless devices are at least six inches from the heart, all should be well.  Either way, it's very apparent to me that Pope Benedict the sixteenth shares my opinion that the worthiness of the next Pope, whoever it might be, and the credibility of any and all manufacturers should be viewed with deep suspicion.  However I have to believe that Pope Saint Gregory the first, the one who was always accompanied by a Dove, and who wrote endlessly, including the Chant, and who removed Vainglory from the list of Cardinal Sins so that there would just be the seven of such flaws to contend with, is now turning in his grave, or perhaps weeping from his cloud.  But at least I better understand the practice of 'exhumation of relics unless you are a Mother Teresa,' in the path toward Sainthood.  Suffice to say all pictures of Pope Benedict have copyrights so today's pictures are of what Saint Gregory the first might have looked like.

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