Pure Delight

And after this manner was the language of my father in the praising of his God; for his soul did rejoice, and his whole heart was filled, because of the things which he had seen, yea, which the Lord had shown unto him.
First Nephi. Chapter One. Verse Fifteen.

God shows his children pure delight

in daytime and in ebon night.

But we in turn must open be

to his sublime felicity.

Not only prophets keenly feel

the Glory and the Great Ideal.

But anyone with humble zest

can know such beauty and be blessed.

Me for constant celebration

of my life on God's creation!

Good Old Tim Holst

My good old pal, Tim Holst

Now that services at the chapel down the street only last for two hours on Sunday, I have to look back with a rueful laugh at my own worries about keeping the Sabbath. When I joined Ringling Brothers as a First of May back in 1971, and consequently joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints while in Winter Quarters, I was on the horns of a dilemma; the circus did two shows every Sunday, making it difficult, at times impossible, to get to my church meetings on Sunday. Way back then there were church services in the morning for two hours, and then church services in the afternoon or evening for two more hours. What with the travel involved, that could pretty much take up my whole Sunday. 

Growing up with a casual attitude towards religion and God, when I was baptized at age 18 I went far in the opposite direction -- becoming a strict Pharisee about things like the Word of Wisdom, the Law of Tithing, the Law of Chastity, and keeping the Sabbath Day holy. I thought I was sinning badly every Sunday when I had to put on the greasepaint and make with the tummlering instead of sitting in a pew in a white shirt with a polyester necktie lynching me. Tim Holst, the guy who baptized me and was my co-worker in clown alley, wasn't bothered by it at all.

"We gotta work on Sundays, Tork" he told me a dozen times. "Just like firemen and nurses. It's part of the job, so we don't have a choice. I don't feel guilty about it at all."

And there were some Sundays when we managed to get to early morning services. But it was never easy. When our schedule allowed, we'd wake up at the ungodly hour of six a.m. (having gone to bed the night before no earlier than 2 a.m.) and go find a pay phone to call a taxi. That was expensive. Our weekly salary was just $125.00, and most of the chapels were located way out in the suburbs, far from where the Ringling train was parked.

Now here's a wonderful thing that happened to us at least a dozen times that season when we wanted to get to church in the morning on Sunday. Some weeks Holst and I were just too broke to afford a taxi. Not if we wanted to eat during the week. So we'd walk to the nearest bus stop, with no idea when the bus would come or if it even would go anywhere near our chapel. But good old Tim Holst would tell me, no longer the Pharisee but a Doubting Thomas instead, that if we had a little faith and said a little prayer, we'd find our way to a chapel.

And by golly, he was right! We'd pester the bus driver to be on the lookout for a 'Mormon' chapel, and every single time we eventually came to one. And then we'd always find a good brother to give us a ride back to the arena in time for the matinee.

Coincidence or luck? Yeah, maybe once or twice. But I'm telling you this happened a good half dozen times during the season. It was something more than luck or coincidence, of that I'm certain. And it had nothing to do with my faith, since I remained pessimistic each time we did it that we would only wind up lost somewhere out in the sticks and never get back in time for the matinee.

Good old Tim Holst is gone now, carried off by a heart attack  while watching a basketball game in Brazil ten years ago. 

And today I live in a senior citizen apartment building where we have the Sacrament service every Sunday right in our own Community Room. I don't even have to go outside to get to church anymore. And it lasts only a half hour. 

cash and carry

Starting in July, Philadelphia’s new law will require most retail stores to accept cash. A New York City councilman is pushing similar legislation there, and New Jersey’s legislature recently passed a bill banning cashless stores statewide. A spokesman for New Jersey Gov. Phil Murphy, a Democrat, declined to comment on whether he would sign it. Massachusetts has gone the farthest on the issue and is the only state that requires retailers to accept cash.

merchants like to think of cash/as a sort of sordid trash/they would rather get your lard/through the use of debit card/plastic once again deforms/all our features and our forms.

He saw the heavens open

he saw the heavens open

First Nephi. Chapter One. Verse Eight.

Heaven, opened to my view,

held a long and winding queue.

I asked an angel where it leads,

he said twas for those with good deeds.

They have to wait for validation

to receive their exaltation.

Another line I saw, real short,

that led into a green resort,

where fleecy clouds and tropic beach

were beautiful beyond man's speech.

I asked Is that for those with smarts?

The angel said No -- just good hearts.

When editors send writers

A landmark ruling by an Australian court is expected to have international consequences for newsrooms, with media companies on notice they face large compensation claims if they fail to take care of journalists who regularly cover traumatic events.

Historically, the idea of journalists suing their employers for occupational PTSD was unheard of. Newsroom culture dictated that journalists did whatever was asked of them, including intrusions on grieving relatives, or “death knocks” as they are known.

The Victorian County Court accepted the potential for psychological damage on those whose work requires them to report on traumatic events, including violent crimes. The court ruled on February 22 that an Age journalist be awarded $180,000 for psychological injury suffered during the decade she worked at the Melbourne-based newspaper . . . 

The Conversation

When editors send writers to the scene of tragedy,

the horror and the sorrow can affect them fervidly.

They may develop tics or take to drink to ease the pain;

post traumatic problems can spread like a new blood stain.

*

But now at last reporters have a recourse with the law

to sue their callous newspaper and make 'em pay til raw.

No more must they barge in on folk who wallow in their grief;

no more must they kowtow to any editor-in-chief!

*

A journalist is delicate, a rose about to bloom.

He or she writes poetry in alleys or newsroom.

From now on when there's breaking news in some far off war zone,

the management will spare reporters and send out a drone.

Portrait of Two Chinese Hackers

Water Brash

 

And it came to pass that as he read, he was filled with the Spirit of the Lord.

1 Nephi. Chapter One. Verse 12.

If you want the Spirit of the Lord inside your breast.

If you want to feel that all your efforts have been blessed.

If you want to know that God is truly at the helm,

and that He is guiding us back to His one true realm;

then seek His golden counsel in the scriptures that you read.

Never mind the Internet -- it's only chicken feed.

Gorge yourself with scriptures -- there's no water brash involved.

In fact, deep reading is how life's great questions will be solved.

American Consumers Get It in the Neck, Again.

American consumers have been saddled with $69 billion in added costs because of the tariffs the U.S. imposed last year, including on $250 billion on Chinese imports as well as levies on steel and aluminum, according to a study released by a quartet of economistsworking on a National Science Foundation grant.

WSJ

God bless the poor consumer, on a stormy sea of debt;

steep tariffs overflowing his frail craft with soggy threat.

Where once the eager shopper had a purse brimful of coin,

excise fees his greenbacks now do steadily purloin.

*

The government in Washington is trying to induce

overseas authorities to kill their golden goose.

Uncle Sam wants products made and bought on native soil.

(Doesn't matter if it's paid for by some Saudi oil.)

*

Goodbye to Chinese silks and teas, goodbye to Beaujolais.

Who wants to buy our chicken feet and soybeans today?

Conspicuous consumption is a thing of long ago;

I'll darn my socks and use a teabag twice til imposts go.

  

The Office Mooch

While such differences may be negligible to employers, for workers in expensive cities like New York and San Francisco, the money saved turning snacks into lunch could mean making next month’s rent. This is especially true for entry-level workers, who often earn at or below the cost of living. Ms. Jennings estimates that free snacks at Vox Media save her about $200 every month . . .
NYT

When mooching at the office, for to cadge a meal or two,

don't expect a banquet or a large bowl of beef stew.

But if you are not picky, and have some creative flare,

you can find the fixins for some cheap delicious fare.

*

Ketchup packets and hot water make tomato soup;

add a lot of Saltines and you have a pleasing goop.

Look for bread and corn chips, mix with yogurt for a treat.

Packets of stale Parmesan and sugar makes it sweet.

*

And of course bag lunches in the fridge that have no name

are considered salvage, or in other words fair game.

Don't despair because you have become the office mooch;

you'll get a living wage when you have learned which butts to smooch.

Chinese Hackers Rape Universities in Pursuit of Maritime Military Secrets

Chinese hackers have targeted more than two dozen universities in the U.S. and around the globe as part of an elaborate scheme to steal research about maritime technology being developed for military use, according to cybersecurity experts and current and former U.S. officials.

WSJ

A virtuous profession is the hacking of a key

that gives Beijing free knowledge with a sly efficiency.

Why duplicate the research that has already been done?

To steal it from America is certainly more fun!

*

All honor to the hacker, a courageous cyber thief;

let's cover him with laurels and then gild him with gold leaf.

Confucius would embrace him and Lao Tzu would kiss his cheek

for helping Mother China at the West take a good peek.

*

Like tawny moles or earthworms, all their burrowing succeeds

in making Chinese earth more fertile (though it's mostly weeds.)

We'd like them to come visit us here in the USA;

we'd put 'em in a quiet room and throw the key away.