Seven Abandoned Wonders of the USSR
You ever think to yourself: "This is gonna land me in Hell"? I do, way too frequently. I have an acerbic turn of mind. I think I'm subduing it, but then it rears its head mightily. I'd like to give examples, but they might shock readers away. I will, however, divulge one: smirking at the former USSR.
It's a very sad situation, but then I look at the Russian arrogance: portrayed in its gory by Dostoyevsky, put into practice by a smug Lenin who thought he could do no wrong, on display in Putin's conduct, annoying in the comportment of the Moscow Patriarchate (something about the Russian Orthodox Church strikes me as haughty, notwithstanding my veneration of Seraphim of Sarov, enjoyment of Theophan the Recluse (neatest-sounding name in monastic history), and respect for Tikhon of Zadonsk). When I think of the arrogance, I smirk at the devastation. When I think of the Government Works! ideology behind the devastation, I smile.
I know: it merits Hell, all that dirty joy at a miserable situation that is causing real, tangible, suffering to fellow human beings. The psychological key is to look at the ridiculousness of it all and not at the human suffering underneath it. When you do that, you can have a great time reading tales of bizarre criminal conduct and pictures of that hole called Russia. This is the most-recent site I've found: Seven Abandoned Wonders of the Soviet World. Pretty good stuff.
And if it makes you feel any better, Russia will soon be Islamic. See next story.
Sobering Video
A quick-hitting video about the implosion of Christian culture . . . and the explosion of Islam that is taking its place. What Islam couldn't do with the sword, it's doing with the penis.
The Netherlands will have a Muslim majority in fifteen years. Germany will be a Muslim state by 2050. Islam is the fastest-growing religion in Canada. The U.S. had 100,000 Muslims in 1970; today, 9 million. Those are just a few of the startling stats. Check it out.
The Bagpiper
As a bagpiper, I was asked by a funeral director to play at a graveside service for a homeless man who had no family or friends.
The funeral was to be held at a cemetery in the remote countryside and this man would be the first to be laid to rest there.
As I was not familiar with the backwoods area, I became lost. I arrived an hour late. I saw the backhoe and the crew who were eating lunch but the hearse was nowhere in sight.
I apologized to the workers for my tardiness and stepped to the side of the open grave where I saw the vault lid already in place.
I assured the workers I would not hold them up for long but this was the proper thing to do. The workers gathered around, still eating their lunch. I played out my heart and soul.
As I played the workers began to weep. I played and I played like I'd never played before, from Going Home and The Lord is My Shepherd to Flowers of the Forest.
I closed the lengthy session with Amazing Grace and walked to my car.
As I was opening the door and taking off my coat, I overheard one of the workers saying to another, "Sweet mercy, I never seen nothin' like that before and I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years."
