An English In Kentucky


















Sunday January 28th 2018Tim Candler9


      For years and years I labored under the Episcopalian illusion that a Mulligan was an Irish last orders cocktail of such a combination that when downed it granted an oblivion beyond the eight pint minimum. The professional would stagger homeward and probably awake in a ditch to the chorus of birds, look up at the sky and smile, then curse his throbbing head as he searched in vain for a familiar landmark that might tell him where he was. Hear the bells of the Sunday Church and know there'd be hell to pay at home. Happy days, they were, and for those interested it's the Wrens of island hedgerows that first raise the morning spirits to outrage, turn the Nightingale's poppycock songs into Owl Pellets, good enough only for lovers and the mawkish prose of the saccharine sweet. Yes indeed, Keats wanted escape from the real by becoming one with the earth, he was from Hampstead, so what do you expect. He died when he was twenty five.



     More recently I have discovered that a Mulligan is a term used by Old Testament Christianity and is an indulgence that modernist Luther himself would have riled against as a total, complete and utter misunderstanding of the New Testament message. Luther had his charms of course, a tad extreme and probably would have died hungry had his marriage vows to an ex-nun not produced a partnership the better half of which had the acumen to put food on his table. At the same time a person can leap to ready conclusions which is why the gift of diligence remains a stalwart to any understanding. Mulligan Stew derives from the hobo camps, the homeless looking for food will eat anything, and if it's cooked even more delicious. And then there's golf, the rules to which are incomprehensible and probably pointless, but if I was an Old Testament God I would cast down bolts of lightening at any one found in possession of a golf stick and earthquakes would devour all golf carts and golf caddies. Sadly we more Episcopalian minded rely on The Beatitudes to keep the hereafter demon free. Can anyone still say Reformation without turning into a Pillar of Salt. Damn right there's a war on Christmas.


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