Neanderpundit

So I’m on the way back from my last day of skunking, saturday, and on the way, NPR is the only station I can get for about fifteen miles.

Click and Clack come on. I leave it there because their utter lack of useful knowledge always amuses me.
A caller comes on, saying “I need a safe car that has features that help a really bad driver. I tend to hit things and back into cars while parking etc. etc. etc”.

She goes on to describe how she needs lots of cupholders and lots of power jacks for cellphones and other accessories, and generally displays what an ignorant and unattentive driver she is, and THEN GOES ON TO TELL THEM SHE IS A PHYSICIAN.

This is a not-so-subtle reminder, folks. Not every doctor graduated top of his or her class; in fact, the odds that you got the bimbo that sat in the back of class twirling her hair between her fingers and thinking about the sale at LS Ayres that evening are pretty good. Or the guy who drank his way through classes and had Daddy buy him good test scores.

Anyway, instead of suggesting that she buy a used Yugo and drive it as fast as possible downhill into a concrete bridge abutment, which would be USEFUL advice, Click and clack suggest she buy a Volvo wagon with the four wheel drive and all kinds of other options. Pitiably, I forget where she said she was from.

So if you’re driving around and see an obvious idiot in a nice new Volvo driving like a moron, using her tires as curb feelers, and backing into things while talking on her cellphone, do yourself a favor and GET AWAY. While you’re at it, get a tag so you can find out what she’s a doctor of, and if it’s anything more complex than dermatology, make sure nobody you love is ever under her care.

To all the commenters here; to all the folks I have met, to the Gunbloggers, to the Du Toits and Dick and Kelly whose hospitality I enjoyed more than I deserve, to the FritzFolks, to Mr Porretto, to Pascal, to Mark Alger and his lovely wife, the attendees of the first Ogmeet, to everyone who has touched my life in comment or in person or in email:

God rest ye merry gentlemen and Gentlewomen. May the Lord hold you in the hollow of His mighty hand. Even those athiests among you.

Merry Christmas!

Og

Second mass in one day! Maybe it’s habit forming.

Tonight’s gospel: Matthew 1: 1-25

1 The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.

2 Abraham begat Isaac; and Isaac begat Jacob; and Jacob begat Judas and his brethren;

3 And Judas begat Phares and Zara of Thamar; and Phares begat Esrom; and Esrom begat Aram;

4 And Aram begat Aminadab; and Aminadab begat Naasson; and Naasson begat Salmon;

5 And Salmon begat Booz of Rachab; and Booz begat Obed of Ruth; and Obed begat Jesse;

6 And Jesse begat David the king; and David the king begat Solomon of her that had been the wife of Urias;

7 And Solomon begat Roboam; and Roboam begat Abia; and Abia begat Asa;

8 And Asa begat Josaphat; and Josaphat begat Joram; and Joram begat Ozias;

9 And Ozias begat Joatham; and Joatham begat Achaz; and Achaz begat Ezekias;

10 And Ezekias begat Manasses; and Manasses begat Amon; and Amon begat Josias;

11 And Josias begat Jechonias and his brethren, about the time they were carried away to Babylon:

12 And after they were brought to Babylon, Jechonias begat Salathiel; and Salathiel begat Zorobabel;

13 And Zorobabel begat Abiud; and Abiud begat Eliakim; and Eliakim begat Azor;

14 And Azor begat Sadoc; and Sadoc begat Achim; and Achim begat Eliud;

15 And Eliud begat Eleazar; and Eleazar begat Matthan; and Matthan begat Jacob;

16 And Jacob begat Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ.

These are the salient bits.

Fourteen generations times three.

Observant readers will notice that Jesus, son of Joseph, is no genetic relation to David.

I can’t find a cite for this, maybe Ellison can provide me with one, but in Judaism, at least according to all the Jews I know, the tribe comes from the father; the NATION comes from the mother.
Mass was packed full; there were folks who hadn’t ever seen the inside of the church. Mumblings to my left and right (we had to sit on window ledges, there wasn’t an empty pew)”the people who show up every week should get first choice of the seats”. Me, I could care less. If they only show up once or twice a year, let them be comfy. I can relinquish my favorite pew for a service.
Christmas is tomorrow. I can hardly wait.