Advice from Walter

Since Tugboat Dave no longer posts his random Spanish language channel images, I felt compelled to share this one of Walter Mercado. Last night while I was at El Patio pupuseria on Mission enjoying excellent $2.50 fish tacos before the Pope of Yes show, I heard Bryce Digdug scream out "It's Walter of el Show de Walter." On the wall next to a rifle and glittering sombrero was this creature, Walter Mercado who at age 76 looks little different than he did at 56 or 36 or...

Say what you will, but Walter holds a doctorate in Divinity from the International Philo-Byzantine Academy & University. Although he holds it, I'm not sure if he earned it or if it has his name on it.

This Offer Will Not Be Repeated

Bunter and I received this in today's mail. We're not sure yet what we'll do with it. Just in case you're curious, we dummied our address on the label to protect our privacy. As those who've been to see us know, we live on Garbage Lane, not Trash Avenue.

Not That Cutie

As a Unitarian-Jew, I've not paid that much attention to the Pope's visit, but it just won't seem to go away. Tonight I discovered on the PBS News Hour someone named Father Albert Cutie who apparently bills himself as a marriage expert. Okay, if you were having troubles with your marriage, wouldn't the last person you'd want to go to for advice be a celibate man in a line of work rife with pedophiles? It's sort of like asking a vegan how to cook pork chops.

Even odder, is that a site called Priest Sunday that describes him as being "Six feet tall, with black hair and vivid blue eyes...energetic, articulate..." That sounds just a tad too TigerBeat for a description for me. Oh, go ahead and describe his muscular thighs and smooth skin craving to be touched while you're at it.

Personally, he looks a bit too much like an anatomically incorrect Ken Doll to me. But then again, I come from a spiritual tradition that puts a bit too much emphasis on male genital mutilation.

In the meantime, perhaps he could head down to Texas to give a little marital counseling to the members of that FLDS compound, or at least a little hair, make-up and wardrobe tips to those wives.

No Access for Me

Bigger Than The Boys in the Band

One of the interesting revelations from Mitt Romney's speech today was the discovery that we live in a land that is filled with a "symphony of religions." Shown here is a member of the percussion section.

Have a Pluckin' Good Yom Kippur

On what day do rural Haitians and Upper East Side Jews have a great deal in common? Why, today, Yom Kippur, the day of atonement, when traditional rabbis often hold a chicken above their heads for sacrifice.

In personal ads, I often note that I am religious but not spiritual. That's the handy thing about being a Unitarian with its Piccadilly Cafeteria approach to religion. You can pretty much pick whatever you want and never have to go to confession or hear sermons about sin. I love all the pageantry, costumes and rituals of various religions provided I don't have to get all spiritual. Give me costumes, sets and lines and I'm always up for a performance. However, I draw the line when it comes to killing chickens.

In addition to being one half Jewish I am also an amateur juju man. My powers are great, but like Mothra I only destroy to save the word. So if you're a fire breathing lizard, consider yourself warned. Otherwise have a jolly, holly Yom Kippur and atone like it's 1999!

72 Ounce Deity

I was on Skype and could only find my cell phone, not the good camera, just after he was walking out of my field of view...but the old buzzard to the left of the boat looked just like the God of Cecil B. DeMille movies, white beard, long white hair and all. He was carrying a cane and Big Gulp from 7-Eleven. Dern, and I was so close.

24/Lost

No, the above title does not refer to the TV show but my past 24-36 hours. Crash, burn..bleah. At 4 p.m. United called to say that my return flight was cancelled and they put me on one for Tuesday at 6:50 a.m. Tuesday. United actually calling you? What a concept. That was fine, I didn't want to arrive at 11 p.m. anyway and deal with parking. What's twelve hours delay. After checking in near the airport, I ordered a chicken related entree at Charleston's with some trepidation. It had a mysterious mix of mushrooms and havarti cheese and ...bacon. Bacon? I think the last time I had that was in 1987. I pulled it aside and made it halfway through. It didn't taste that bad, just somehow not quite right. Two hours later, "not quite right" meant five hours of retching, fever and various other combustible actions I'll spare you the details. I wasn't up for the 6:50 flight, and almost dropped the phone as I went through hearing United electronic voice "help" line repeat "I think I heard you say..." six or seven times. All I did the past 36 hours was watch the two-part American Experience piece on the history of the Mormons, reminding me that it's just a few weeks before those well-scrubbed 19-year-olds return to the Mission. I'll have to remember to talk to them in Spanish to ask probing questions about Joseph Smith. Joseph Smith, what a wild and crazy guy!