September 3, 2012

Saw a pretty twisted movie last evening: THE CRIMSON BOLT.  It was funny, heart-felt, and as crude and violent as it could be.  Had to pray afterwards.  But the thing I really liked about it was the fact that Jesus is like ground water.  Go a half inch deep, and there He is.  The director knew as much, too, if in a twisted SECOND HAND LIONS platonic sort of way.  Justice and good were what the movie was about in the end, both in a world that has gone insane.  Four broken stars.

Speaking of our crazy world and responses to that, we've got Franz Wright coming here in a few weeks.  I love this guy.  No lame Christian leader/winner bull roar.  He cuts through all that.  Give me failure, need, a true sense of our self-sufficiency; that's Wright!

What else?  We're reading A MIDSUMMER NIGHT DREAM.  Shakespeare rocks of course, and though I wasn't surprised by how anti-Catholic the Bedford edition was, I did find it tiresome.  The play's a Boy Bishop celebration of love and mystery: the things we need in life, the things only a healthy Catholic sensibility can give.  The editors are so lame and even.  They need the vestiges of the reformation--which incidentally wasn't over until after the Cromwell murderings--so they can remember everything they aren't.  Pathetic.

Good Queen Bess my ass.  Murderous b-tch if ever there was one.  Made Mary look like a rookie.

The last acceptable prejudice.