I watched an episode of Top Gear last night that featured an Alfa Romeo 8C Competizione. Host Jeremy Clarkson opined that this may be the best-looking car ever made. Could be; it's beautiful. If GM had produced cars this nice-looking perhaps they wouldn't need to beg money from the tax-payers via the government. They could get it directly by selling cars that looked like the Alfa.
Clarkson wasn't too impressed with the handling of the 8C, however, and criticized it as being too loud. Here's the youtube clip.
I posted links to more rugby videos.
I also saw a charming little diversion last night called "Cold Comfort Farm" (1995). It was light and fluffy, like one of those Jeeves and Wooster episodes. A comedy of manners, or a very mannered comedy.
I'm at 1926 in that book I'm reading (title too long to type), and was amused at the account of Sister Aimee Semple McPherson (shown above), self-billed as the "World's Most Pulchritudinous Evangelist." Excerpt here. The account of her bogus kidnapping was pretty interesting. I guess when all was said and done she succumbed to the temptations of the flesh, as many do. The Gates of Hell pivot upon soft pillows and silken sheets.
Mom and I used to drive past her Angelus Temple in Los Angeles on the way to visit Dad in the hospital; I recall asking Mom what the building was and she repled, "Oh, that's the Angelus Temple, where the four-squares go." She had more than a hint of contempt in her voice as she said this. Whenever Mom wanted to describe wild-eyed, over-the-top Christians she used the phrase "four-squares." I guess she got it from McPherson's church.
Mom was a Roman Catholic, as befits her French-Canadian heritage, but in all the years I spent with her as I was growing up I never knew her to darken the entrance of a church. During the brief time that I attended Mass as a twelve year-old she'd drive me to the church doors and drop me off, and pick me up later on. This non-example, combined with the fact that I found mass pretty unnecessary (I didn't understand what was going on), predictably led to my total disinterest in church attendance.
It also didn't help that I, a twelve year-old, was stuck in a catechism class with a bunch of eight and nine year-olds. I felt slighted.
When it comes to Catholicism I was also somewhat poisoned by something my Catholic babysitter once said to me as a small child, when I attended mass with her. At one point in the service Kitty - that was her name, Kitty (Katherine) - leaned over to me and whispered, "This is the point in the mass where Jesus comes down from the cross." Needless to say, He didn't, and I was disappointed. What kind of religion was this? The mass didn't work. He stayed hung upon the cross!
I was impressed with the trappings of the mass, however: the ornate vestments, the golden chalice, the Latin, the curious words "PAX" and "INRI" carved into the church walls, etc. This mystified me and I was determined to learn what they meant. I did, of course... mysteries like that don't thwart me for long.
It's funny. I was once among a bunch of Catholics socially, and the subject of what "INRI" meant came up. None of them knew. Wow.
But then, I shouldn't throw stones. I've been a church-attending Christian for almost thirty years, now, and have no idea what "agape" means. (It's a condition your mouth goes into when you see something surprising, right?) Perhaps I should look it up now.
Ah, I thought so - it's Greek.
Anyway, have a great weekend!
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