“Conservatives” quoting MLK’s “…not…by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character…” is like when Homer Simpson bursts into the church yelling “SANCTUARY” and Rev. Lovejoy rolls his eyes and says, “Oh, why did I teach him that word.”

I went back into lockdown Nov. 15, 2020. It had been a nice respite, starting in June, letting myself ease the restrictions, going to visit my local folks, even having dinner with ’em, which means *inside*. But then I started looking at the numbers here in Monroe County, and they were off the charts compared to when I first eased up for the summer. Also, I bleev I had to work on that Thursday anyway.

This, with other family’s inability to travel to upstate New York, just slaughtered our Thanksgiving in 2020. For the first time in maybe my whole life, Thanksgiving was canceled, yet another cherished thing stolen from us by the incompetence and uncaring disdain that marked the previous preznit.

My Dear Old Dad was undeterred, resolute that we would have a Thanksgiving. Thus it was that yesterday evening, my family gathered around a glass patio table on the deck outside and ate turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, dinner rolls, canned cranberries, and all the gravy one could want. And thus it is that today I will be heading back over to put some of those ingredients between two slices of bread slathered with mayonnaise, solely in the interest of course in helping to dispose of the leftovers.

Unlike justice, Thanksgiving deferred is not Thanksgiving denied. Families can preserve the traditions, no matter how much a global public health catastrophe can try to run them through a stand mixer. And I am thankful above all that nobody at our May-Thanksgiving table fell to COVID. We are all vaccinadoed and ready to boogie. That is something to be thankful for.

In Other News
• Happy birthday to my Mom!
• Ditching meat isn’t the answer for climate change. Better farming is. (Kyle Jaster in The Washington Post)

It may be that I’m one of those stories where the person in Household A travels to Household B to visit for a while “just this once” on the holiday and ends up sending 75 people to the hospital, because this morning, I went and saw the family. There were waffles and bacon involved, and present-swapping, and getting to see DOD and Ellen, and getting to see my brother with his terrific novia*. It was a good visit.

It’s a weird drive over because everything is closed and there is barely any traffic. I pulled into the driveway and them dogs started jumping on the car. They like to see me because they know I always have dog treats. On the way in, I mentioned to Ellen that now I needed a car wash because the dogs had muddied up the driver-side door.

Ellen would later this morning give me a Royal Car Wash subscription card as one of my gifts.

So that worked out okay.

I have broken now into chapter 2 of one of my gifts, A Libertarian Walks Into a Bear. At the least, I can report that Matthew Hongoltz-Hetling is a proper wordsmith and storyteller, and I feel this book is leading me by my nose with a blindfold on, which is a good thing.

The family is doing Christmas dinner right now, but I’m too COVID-nervous to join. It’s probably safe. But Monroe County is at a 9.9 positivity rate at last count. That means that of all tests performed on Friday, nearly 10 percent were positive. This has been the rate consistently all of December. That’s not good.

If it’s at 10 or 15 percent, think of it like a heavy rain or thunderstorm. You need to be even more careful. Start limiting your activities. If the rate gets higher than that, think of it like a tornado. With a tornado you’d get in the basement and make sure your kids are safe. (William Haseltine, chair and president of the global health think tank ACCESS Health International)

(Quote via CNN.)

My take on to lock-down or not to lock-down: There are no right answers. Not really. Some pundit on the TV the other night characterized it like we’re all poker players now. We’re all weighing the risks. My conclusion today was that a several-hour visit over maple syrup and coffee was acceptable. But my Christmas meal will likely be noodles with meatballs rather than my Dad’s famous roast beast.

It’s Donald Trump’s idiocy and incompetence. We just live in it.

* “Novia” is Spanish for “girlfriend.” I’ve been fond of using it recently.

In Other News
• The Internet Just Found Out Star Wars’ Oscar Isaac Was In A 1990s Ska Band And Of Course There Are Lots Of Opinions (CinemaBlend)
• 18 Great Albums You Might Have Missed in 2020 (Rolling Stone)
• I’m the Reason Elvis Met Nixon (Politico)

Today is Independence Day in the United States, and it should be a day of great celebration among those of us who are restrictively secular in world view.

Um, that means, “atheists.”

Two years ago, I posted an oration made by Robert Ingersoll on July 4, 1876, that simply begins:

One hundred years ago, our fathers retired the gods from politics.

Later in the speech, Ingersoll further encapsulates the miracle of the grand Declaration of Independence and what it accomplished:

Our fathers founded the first secular government that was ever founded in this world. Recollect that. The first secular government; the first government that said every church has exactly the same rights and no more; every religion has the same rights, and no more. In other words, our fathers were the first men who had the sense, had the genius, to know that no church should be allowed to have a sword; thai it should be allowed only to exert its moral influence.

Before our great experiment, kings ruled, and kings claimed their powers over the people derived from on high. With the Declaration, with the Revolution, the Colonies declared war on that concept. Law, they said, comes from people. And they fought and died for that.

We are not, nor have we ever been, a society based on “Judeo-Christian” values, as many would have it settled in fact. We are the result of a fierce revolution against theocractic rule.

I like to reflect on that on Independence Day. And then, you know. Go light a sparkler and stuff.

Happy Independence Day, for the People, baby.

I had seen crucifix scenarios before. But none like this.

I think I was 8, maybe? 7? And I was staying with the grandparents in Kansas for the summer. And we were traveling from somewhere, and it was on a Sunday. And of course they just had to find a service. Where’d we stop, Eudora? Maybe? I don’t know. Some huge church in the middle of a corn field.

Now this church hadn’t just bought the normal Jesus on the cross statue thingie out of the regular Church Mart catalog. This thing was massive. Big, muscular Jesus. His hands bound to the cross and nailed solidly. His feet nailed with a single post. He was barely dressed, save of course for the bloody thorns on his head. And he was looking up at the sky with that forlorn sort of gaze.

The thing was massive and, rather than seeming to come from another era, it seemed real. Which I reckon was the point.

Bear in mind, I was reared secularly. I didn’t go to Bible study every week. I wasn’t in CYO. I got inklings via the occasional television preacher and when I stayed with friends overnight (there’s another story altogether there…they were Christian Science…) So my context for this was somewhat limited. I mean, your average Catholic is probably inclined to see at as simply part of the scenery.

I was a bit horrified.

And, it occurs to me to ask this Easter weekend: Who’s wrong? Childhood me? Or your average Catholic?

Ya’ll are celebrating a death cult tale with a zombie ending, one that is highly unlikely to have actually occurred, yet it is celebrated, and it is a cornerstone of our culture and the basis upon which many people make their moral choices.

It was only a few years ago that I gave myself permission to stop believing in supernatural forces. I’ve always been a skeptic, though not without some time wasted seeking in various capacities. But while many of these stories I have always found fanciful and irrelevant, I never said the words out loud much: I don’t believe.

I know many will take great comfort in their death cult rituals this weekend, and I do not begrudge them it. I think I may observe by replaying the recent Cosmos reboot on my magical box that relays images to me by some unexplained magic. Or maybe I’ll stick my nose into my Ingersoll biography on my magic tablet that magically puts word in front of me to read.

Great thanks to my wise parents for saving me the indoctrination. Happy Easter, and I think you Jewish folks have something or other going on as well, so mazel tov.

Next time: Why I try steadfastly as I can to avoid taking “the Lord’s” name in vain.