Little Loaves
God’s Word, bite-sized
Wednesday, August 7, 2024
FLORIDA MAN
Thursday, June 20, 2024
What's in a Name?
My friend Scam Likely says nobody answers his calls anymore.
What’s that, Pretty Boy? (My amiable
nemesis Tommy Humphrey, aka Pretty Boy has a comment.)
"I said that's extremely UNlikely."
You mean, that my friend's name is Scam Likely?
"No; I mean, that you have a friend."
You have cut me to the quick, Thomas. But thankfully, my quick is surrounded by layers of fat, so ‘tis a mere flesh wound. Now why would you think me friendless?
"Well, Rusty, you don't fish, hunt or ride a motorcycle; you don't golf, bowl or play tennis. You don't camp, kayak or shoot skeet. What would you do with a friend, sit and read together?"
"You'd wear high-top sneakers together?
“I think you’d better double-check
your Readers’ Digest vocabulary quiz,
Rusty. Scintillating does not mean sleep inducing. You know I've heard you preach."
Your dozing off in church is easily explained, Tommy. I suspect your body is programmed to nap after every meal, and you eat a hearty breakfast before church. Maybe you should take a nap now, so I can get back to my story.
“So, you call these 'Dry Breads' stories? I would call them Rusty Ramblings.”
Drink some coffee and follow along, Pretty Boy:
“What’s in a name?” asked
Shakespeare’s Juliet, lamenting the fact that Romeo was from the Montague
family, her family’s rivals. “That which we call a rose by any other name would
smell as sweet.”
She was quite right of course, but how many would pause to smell a rose if the plant had been named “Stinky Prickly Bush.”
In an age of Caller I.D., someone with the name Scam Likely is not going to get many of his calls answered. The same goes for a fellow named Bill Collector, or a gal named Charity Call.
Tuesday, June 11, 2024
History on Wry: Captain Smith and Pocahontas Part 2. We Found Pocahontas
“Welcome, strangers,” said the chief.
A shocked
Smith responded, “You speak English? How can this be? Am I not the first
Englishman to set foot here?”
“No, no.
Big
British invasion last year, four mop-heads from Liverpool. Chief Sullivan of Seneca Nation introduce
them. Loud concert at Squaw Stadium---really big show. Maidens went wild. Screaming and crying. Many tribes came. They shook it up, baby---twisted and
shouted. Beethoven
rolled over. Our village has never
been the same.” He lifted up the flap of
a wigwam and Smith heard a snippet of ‘A Hard Day’s Night.’ *
“Where are these Liverpudlians now?
“Mopheads
returned to England. Listen, do you want
to know a secret? Do you promise not to
tell? Closer. Let me whisper in your ear. My youngest daughter Poca was there.
She was just seventeen----you know what I mean. Now she says she’ll never dance
with another, after she saw John standing there.”
“John?”
“John one of
British invaders---three others too, but Poca fall hard for John. She started what she call ‘Fanatic Club.’
Every day she write letter to John.
Always signs, ‘P.S. I love you--- love me do.’”
“How does she send letters to England?”
Saturday, April 27, 2024
History on Wry: Captain Smith and Pocahontas, Part One. Where's Pocahontas?
The year was
1607 (which actually makes it, curiously, not the 16th, but the 17th century). Captain John Smith wanted to
distinguish himself from all the other John Smiths in England at the time. (As you may know, in 17th century
England, it was proverbial, “Throw yon chestnut, hit Jon Smith.”) So, Captain Smith formed a group he called
“The Virginia Company,” named after his illustrious monarch, Queen Virginia, the First of England, the
Third of Scotland, the Sixth of Wales and the Twelfth of Never. Smith’s plan was to convince a few wealthy
merchants to finance a voyage west so he could try to find a New World (ideally, one named
Virginia) which was not in constant threat from icebergs. There he would
presumably be the only John Smith,
and he could become a prosperous tobacco farmer. Of course, Europeans had not discovered
tobacco yet, but Smith had a dream.
We join him in a meeting with potential investors:
“I shall apprise thee of my plan: Ye men of heavy purses shall grant me enough sovereigns to purchase 3 sturdy ships (or the ships may be leased if thou canst find a deal with no high-mileage penalty). We shall thence sail west ‘til we find yon New World, yea, losing half our crew and passengers from disease on the perilous journey, for we shall fail to bring with us enough fresh fruit and water. Those of us blessed by Providence to survive the journey will arrive too late in the year to plant crops. But the friendly heathen will come to our aid. Although we can offer them, at present, naught but colorful trinkets and diseases for which they have no resistance, they will welcome and honor us when they learn we’re from England; from whence we shall one day bring them James Bond, Harry Potter and Downton Abbey. They will share with us their food and fish-head fertilizer, and they will help us build a fort with high walls to keep out the native riff raff.”
Saturday, December 24, 2022
A BYPASS in DEFENSE of the FREE WORLD
Saturday, December 3, 2022
My Rude Awakening
Friday, November 25, 2022
When Blizzards Were Blizzards
Yes, other cities received occasional snow pollution; my brother Kenny, who as a child in Baltimore would catch snowflakes on his tongue, still has tongue shrapnel, which along with his suspicious-sounding last name, makes it tough for him to get through airport security. But Buffalo snow was renowned for its high metallic content. When the mountains of snow eventually melted, almost always before the Fourth of July, our kids would earn spending money raking up the metal fragments in the yard and selling them back to one of the local steel plants. The air pollution wasn’t especially good for our lungs, but in those days, you must remember, lungs were toughened by the second-hand smoke everyone inhaled in public places.
Let the record show that the recent snow in Buffalo was comprised entirely of young, flighty November flakes. By contrast, the Blizzard of ‘77 used only mature, January snow. In Buffalo, January flakes are ripe and plump, and they hit like mini-snowballs. The flakes in that blizzard were especially fat; every time three of them landed on each other they formed a snowman. Donna and I were in Northeast Philly visiting our friends, Wayne and Phyllis Clapier (to protect their privacy, let's call them Lane and Willis St. Clair) when we heard a forecast of heavy snow for western New York, which didn’t alarm us. If at that point they had called it the historic blizzard of ‘77 we might have been more concerned, but no one got around to naming it until later. It’s also true that at the time I didn’t put much stock in meteorologists’ forecasts because I thought, “What qualifies someone who studies meteors to make predictions about the weather?” It has since been explained to me that meteorologists focus not on meteors, but on meteorites, and anything that plunges into our atmosphere must have some effect on it. So I stand corrected.
Sunday, July 24, 2022
History on Wry: Columbus
“Yes, I searched for a sponsor for ten years until the
Spanish king and queen signed on. As
sponsors, they got their name and image on all the bric-a-brac we brought to
trade for spices and gold----Ferdinand
and Isabella coffee mugs, key chains, tee shirts, caps, visors, you name
it. Plus, they were granted exclusive film
rights for the expedition; the contract clause read, ‘…in the event that motion
pictures should be invented soon.’”
They provided three ships for the journey?
“Well, my ship, the Santa Maria, was the one we knew to be seaworthy; we brought the Nina and the Pinta along for parts. Oh, and they carried replacements for Santa Maria men who fell overboard or died of Scurvy on the trip. If I had a do-over, I’d bring more oranges and fewer coffee mugs, and maybe one or two life-preservers.”
How long did your westward journey take?
“About five weeks, which any sane man would think should be
long enough to get to China. Who could
have guessed there’d be a continent or two in the way? You’d think some Viking might have mentioned
it.”
You landed on a Caribbean Island, thinking you had reached
the Orient. How did you determine you weren’t in China?
“Well, the people were dark-skinned, there were no rickshaws, we couldn’t find a decent Chinese restaurant, and all their music was reggae.”
Wednesday, March 2, 2022
Seminary Spaceships
If you’ve read A Jolly Good Time at the Cemetery, you’ll recall that my brother Doug and I attended Faith Seminary, near Philadelphia. We were there in the mid-seventies of what we called the Twentieth Century (even though every year that I can recall from that century started with the number nineteen---go figure). At the time, a NASA scientist gained some popularity in Christian circles with a book and lecture series advancing a new take on the amazing visions recounted in Ezekiel 1.
If you’re among the 99.9% of Americans who’ve never read Ezekiel (or among the rest who may have read it but have little or no recollection of it) I will hereby enlighten you. In his first chapter, Ezekiel describes a vision of living creatures appearing out of a whirlwind, each with four wings and four faces (of a man, a lion, an ox and an eagle). The creatures “sparkled like the color of burnished bronze,” and they “ran back and forth, in appearance like a flash of lightning.” Then the prophet describes what he calls “a wheel on the earth beside each living creature,” and he says, “The appearance of their workings was, as it were, a wheel in the middle of a wheel.”
Bible scholars have long supposed that Ezekiel experienced a vision of heavenly creatures similar to the Seraphim described in Isaiah 6, or the creatures the Apostle John saw around God’s throne as recorded in Revelation 4, each of whom had one of the four faces Ezekiel described. (The meaning of that business about wheels was anybody’s guess.) But the NASA scientist proposed that Ezekiel may have actually interacted with what we call (or what Hollywood calls) aliens----extraterrestrials, life forms who traveled to earth from another planet in a spacecraft (a wheel in the middle of a wheel) far more advanced than anything yet produced by man. I don’t remember the scientist’s name, but we’ll call him Zulcan.
“Isn’t Zulcan the name of your home planet, Rusty?”
I’ll deal with you later, Pretty Boy.
Our seminary president, Dr. Carl McIntire, must have been impressed with Zulcan’s book or lecture, because he arranged to have him speak at a seminary chapel. His presentation included slides of an artist's renderings of Ezekiel's visions interspersed with grainy images of UFO's captured by pilots or other earthlings. If you’re thinking that the weight of evidence that Ezekiel saw aliens who visited Earth in a spacecraft must be (of necessity) on the light side, you are thinking clearly. Furthermore, if you’re wondering what difference it makes whether Ezekiel saw angels created by God, or other life forms created by God, you’re thinking the way I was thinking in that chapel.
“At least you were thinking, Rusty. The only thing in the mind of your parishioners is usually, “When is this guy gonna stop talking?”
“Parishioners,” that’s a big word for you, Tommy, four syllables. Good boy! Who’s a good boy? Now go get a cookie.
Wednesday, February 9, 2022
A Jolly Good Time at the Cemetery
All our classes were taught by men, with one exception. A required English course was conducted by an elderly, dignified, no-nonsense widow who had taught for decades in Philadelphia public schools. Dr. Dickie was on a mission to teach proper English to men before they ascended the pulpit. My guess is, she had been scandalized one-too-many times by the grammar mistakes of young preachers, so she volunteered to come out of retirement to assist the cause.
Her practice was to bring to class her well-mannered little West Highland Terrier Jolly and tie his leash to one of the front legs of her desk. I suspect she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Jolly home alone for several hours, so she had agreed to teach only if he could accompany her. Jolly would snooze calmly by the desk, listening to the grammar lesson with what appeared to be the same level of interest as the rest of us.
Then came the day when my friends Phil and Al brought squirt guns to class, having determined to boldly go where no man had gone before (and where, it could be argued, no wise man has yet gone). They waited patiently through much of the day's lecture until Dr. Dickie rose from her chair and turned to use the blackboard. This was their chance. Seated near each other in the front of the room, they drew their weapons and sent streams of water in Jolly's direction, the squeaking of the squirt guns timed to be drowned out by the sound of scraping chalk. Their intention was evidently to get Jolly barking and cause a disruption, providing us with a brief respite from gerunds and independent clauses.
At first Jolly reacted with only mild curiosity. It seemed he too was thankful for a break from the routine. Without any audible protest, he hopped to his tiny legs and looked around to pinpoint the source of the distraction. From his subdued response an onlooker might have thought (had any onlooker been thinking) that it came as no great surprise to Jolly to be sprinkled in a Presbyterian Seminary. As the occasional carefully timed effusions continued, he appeared to embrace the fun, yipping, wagging his tail and trying to catch the water in his mouth. His restlessness drew some mild rebukes from Dr. Dickie as she continued busy at the blackboard.
Wednesday, September 29, 2021
My Royal Highness
I asked my wife to sit for a few minutes after supper.
“I have to tell you something important.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time, but I wasn’t sure you’d understand.”
“This sounds ominous. What is it?”
“It’s not bad, but you might call it life changing. Are you ready?”
“All ears.”
“I’m a royal.”
“You’re a what?”
“I’m a royal.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means as it sounds. After much soul-searching, I’ve concluded that I am in fact royalty, and I am not ashamed to say so.”
“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work that way. You can’t just declare yourself to be royalty. It’s the sort of thing you have to be born into.”
“Listen to yourself. That’s so twentieth century. You’re obviously not awake.”
“I’m not what?”
“You’re not awake. You need to be awakened. Someone needs to wake you.”
“I think you mean, I’m not ‘woke.’”
“That’s what I said.”
“Not exactly.”
“Nonetheless, now that you know I’m a royal, I adjure you to use appropriate terms when addressing me.”
Thursday, March 26, 2020
Rusty Wonders
Tuesday, September 10, 2019
Lassie and the Pastor Mechanic
Thursday, August 9, 2018
The Tangoed Med Web
"Do you mean the lady who buys the old turntable and dances with her son?"
"No, no. I mean the one who goes out to lunch with the handsome dance instructor and one of the other students after class."
"Right away, Mr. Zeneca."
"This is R&D, Bob Davidson speaking."
"Hello. Davidson? Zeneca here. What do we have in the works that helps people dance the Tango?"
Friday, June 29, 2018
Producing Christianettes
Which celebration of joy did you attend?
Saturday 9PM KSFC (Keep Sunday Free Celebration)
Sunday 8AM K2SLC (Kids to Soccer Later Celebration)
Sunday 10 AM TOTS (Traditional Old Tither Service)
Were you warmly greeted at the door and immediately directed to the coffee bar?
Was your coffee prepared as requested and was your barista friendly and efficient?
Once inside the celebration venue, did you find your seat comfortable and your view of the stage unobstructed?
Please rate the Praise Band (unless you attended the Old Tither Service).
a) loud
b) super loud
c) rattling heaven's gates loud
If you attended the Old Tither Service, please rate the choir.
a) uplifting
b) melodious
c) sleep-inducing
Wednesday, June 13, 2018
Baby Burger Blues
Was your baby burger order pre-chewed to your baby's (or senior's) preferred consistency? _______
Not long after I dutifully responded, I received this message: