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You really can never have too much Bach and Mozart in your music collection, can you?
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Who would have thought that being Commissioner of Agriculture would call for the level of pugnacity on display here?: (Hat tip to Inside Catholic–I haven’t been watching tv for a while so I hadn’t seen this commercial). And do you think Alabama really needs a guy named….?
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Sunday Night Journal — May 16, 2010 I sat down this afternoon to resume work on the next installment of the memoir, and had written a few paragraphs when my wife offered me some lunch, which of course I accepted. Then we decided to eat in front of the television, something we haven’t done very…
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My wife recently took the job of archivist for the Archdiocese of Mobile. In that capacity she's been helping some people do research for a book about the history of Portier House, a building which was the residence of the first bishop of Mobile in the early 19th century. She found, at the Library of…
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This is my brother John, Uncle John to our children and also to my wife and me, to distinguish him from son John. Uncle John likes animals, a lot. The critter on his head is a baby possum he rescued. The mother possum was hit by a car, I guess while carrying all her babies,…
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Here's an interesting piece at First Things by Micah Mattix comparing Flannery O'Connor and Walker Percy, and concluding that O'Connor is the better fiction writer. I agree with many of the specific observations made by the author, but I have two objections: One: O'Connor and Percy are so different, and they're attempting such different things,…
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I’m not sure how well this is going to work, but let’s give it a try. I discovered a week or two ago that Google Maps Street View now includes Greenbrier (when I looked a year or so ago it didn’t). The image below is the view from heart of downtown Greenbrier: the center (more…
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All over the world, women are saying "For instance, my husband" when they see this headline.
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I’m posting this account of something that happened some years ago just because I happened to think of it. A little girl of seven or eight, who didn’t speak with perfect grammar, was telling the knock-knock joke that goes like this, with her doing the knock-knock part: Knock knock—Who’s there? Banana —Banana who? Knock knock…
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And…and…it was like 500 feet tall…and it had glowing red eyes…and they kept blinking and blinking….
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