I have a kind of a barometer of how decent a Christian I have been in any given week, I figure if I’ve been good, I get Fr Brian. If I’ve been an overall ass, I get Fr Marty.
yes, I know it’s a dumb thing.
Still.
Fr Brian this morning, and he was eloquent and.. brief. A wonderful start to a wonderful Easter Sunday. And I’m gonna take it as an omen of good to come.
I’m watching “Ronin Gai” on the IFC.
I love Samurai movies, in fact a lot of Japanese cinema, and this is a good one for several reasons: It’s the last film SHintaru Katsu (Zatoichi) ever made, and it may be the best acted and most intensely filmed movie of the genre. I specifically like the scene where the local asshole samurai are about to go all jerry-falwell on the local hookers by tying one up to a post and a bull which is supposed to split her in half, and a couple of local ronin run in and start the flying blades of fury whoopie machine. Limbs go flying, samurai wiseguys get whacked left and right, and the good guys, of course kick ass. The best bit is when Shintaru, whois supposed to be the bodyguard for the chief asshole, kills him by stabbing himself in the chest with the chief asshole right behind him. Tasty. If you like Japanese films, this one is a must see.
Don’t bring it out.
Wednesday morning, in the hotel with non opening windows, I wake to the smell of smoke.
So I put on my pants and a shirt and go downstairs.
The desk clerk who handles the audit is a willowy brunette, a nice backsidse which she shows off with tight black pants and then covers with the tail of a white mens shirt. The boy who deals with the breakfast is maybe nineteen, and is in fact a bit smaller than her.
He put biscuits in the oven, apparently, and then went to visit with her. Frankly, I don’t blame him. However, he let the biscuits cook, maybe an hour.
Now, biscuits and gravy is a staple all across the land. with a bit of butter, flour, salt, milk, baking soda, you can toss together biscuits in so little time it’s not funny. This kid has taken a shortcut and is using canned mix. All he’s got to do is cook them and watch it.
I saw the biscuits in question: Charcoal briquettes. THe kid and the desk clerk looked very sheepish as they tried to waft the cloud of smoke out the front door.
I walked over to the only window in the hotel that opens, the dining room window, and the smoke flew out as soon as I did.
They looked at me as if I’d just saved their jobs- and I might well have. I imagine they were a minute or two away from setting off the fire extinguishers.
Sheesh, folks. I’m all for a little work nookie, if you can get it, but don’t set the place on fire.
