I haven’t heard that expression in a long time. It’s not common for people in Catholic circles to say that they gave their life to Christ. In the Evangelical Protestant world, however, it’s a phrase that is used quite often. Saying that you gave your life to Christ means the same thing as saying you are born again, or you’ve put your faith in Jesus, or you’ve asked the Lord into your heart. The different descriptions all mean the same thing: the moment when people come to believe that Jesus really is who the Bible says He is, repent of their sins, and then pray for the Lord to save their souls and be the center of their lives.

Years ago, after I lost my faith in atheism, I spent a lot of time with “born again” folks, the period of time I call my “Baptist adjacent” days. Saying, “I gave my life to Christ,” was fairly common, and I’m sure I uttered that phrase more than a few times. When I heard it spoken on the recent podcast, it brought back a lot of memories, all of them good. Those were terrific times. I had just gotten sober. I finally started working steadily and embracing the responsibility of being a husband and father. I made a lot of new friends with people who were genuinely excited that I was getting my life together after a dozen years of being a glassy-eyed goober. And most of all, I had entered into a genuine relationship with Christ the Lord, which gave my life meaning and filled my soul with gratitude.

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While listening to the podcast, my first thought was, Well, it’s been over 41 years now since I gave my life to Christ. My second thought was a question I asked myself: But be honest, pal, have you really GIVEN your life to Christ?

Hmm, that’s a hard one. I know for sure that I believe in Jesus. I have faith that He really is the Son of God and the Savior of the world, the spotless lamb who died on the Cross and then rose from the dead, conquering death once and for all. But have I actually GIVEN my life to Him? Do I strive to have every aspect of my life conform to His will? Do I pray about every situation and every decision to make sure I’m thinking, saying, and doing exactly what He wants?

Um, nah. If you put it that way, I have to admit I’ve given no more than 10-percent of my life to Christ. The other 90-percent? Well, since we’re talking about my life, who knows what I need and what I ought to do better than me?

Well, I think the previous sentence demonstrates why Pride is the first and worst of all the sins. Mountains of evidence prove beyond a doubt that whenever I make decisions thinking only, “What’s in it for me?” the results are usually awful. And yet, I go through most days as if the lyrics of that 1966 song by The Animals came from the Bible: “It’s my life, and I’ll do what I want!”

One of the reasons I did not continue worshiping with those lovely born again Evangelical folks is the fact I was persuaded the Catholic Church is the church founded by Jesus 2,000 years ago. Also, the Eucharist matches Jesus’ words in John, chapter 6, plus St. Paul’s writings in 1 Corinthians, chapter 11. Nonetheless, I have great fondness for my old Evangelical buddies, and I look forward to seeing them again someday in Purgatory. (Hee hee, I couldn’t resist throwing that one in.)

We Catholics don’t often use the expression, “Give my life to Christ.” But the concept is quite valid, and we all should strive to do it. In my case, it’s a good thing that faith is a life-long journey. After giving 10-percent of my life to Christ, it’s now time for me to bump up that percentage. At my current rate, I should be up to 100-percent in about 369 years. Woo, it sure is a good thing that Jesus is merciful.

# # #

(These “Merry Catholic” essays are featured on WJMJ, 88.9 FM, the radio station for the Archdiocese of Hartford, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than the price of a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

AND DON’T FORGET, THERE ARE LOTS OF OTHER EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A dramatic and plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

Well, I’m here to tell you the classics are not dead yet. Some kids have taken the time and effort to learn traditional literature, those inspiring verses that have been passed down through countless generations. The other evening at a Torrington Twisters baseball game, I overheard two young lads exclaim in unison: “We want a pitcher, Not a belly-itcher!”

Oh man, I’ve always loved that poem. I remember when I first learned it myself. I was nine years old, and had recently been added to the roster of the Al’s Hardware Cardinals, one of the many memorable franchises in the Clinton Pee Wee League during the mid-1960s.

Our coach, Mr. Davis, was a wise old veteran. I think he was almost 35. Other coaches in the league spent time trying to teach their players skills that are occasionally employed in baseball, such as throwing, catching, and hitting. But Mr. Davis knew better. He understood that we were nine years old, and the only thing we wanted to do was wear our new red caps and run around making noise. So he helped us to focus our pent-up energy in a useful direction. He taught us traditional, historic baseball poetry.

We were skeptical when Mr. Davis assured us that the opposing pitcher would become flustered if we chanted together, “We want a pitcher, Not a belly-itcher!” (In fact, we were skeptical whether anyone on our team knew the meaning of the word “flustered.”)

But he encouraged us to step out of our comfort zone and take a risk. So one day, during a very close game (score: 17 to 16, top of the second), the opposing pitcher threw one inside, causing our batter to jump out of the way. Mr. Davis turned toward us and nodded solemnly. This was the moment of truth. We took deep breaths, all twelve of us sitting on that bench, and then screamed as loud as we could, “We want a pitcher, Not a belly-itcher!!!”

Suddenly, time froze. Everybody in or near that ballpark stopped in their tracks, turned and looked with amazement at twelve grinning Shakespeares-in-training. The adults present smiled knowingly, their memories whisked away to a time long past, when they first learned that inspiring sonnet. The opposing pitcher was flabbergasted. (If we had known the meaning of the word “flustered,” we would have realized that is exactly what he had become. But instead, we had to settle for knowing he was flabbergasted.)

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It was a magical moment. Although we came up a bit short on the scoreboard that day (final score: 47 to 32, called after four innings), we had learned an invaluable lesson: words have power.

Later in the season Mr. Davis taught us some advanced, free-verse poetry. My favorite, still to this very day, is the non-rhyming classic, “Hey batter, batter. Hey batter, batter. SWING!”

Lament if you must at the perceived lowering of literary standards nowadays. But I, for one, am ever hopeful. My recent visit to Fuessenich Park proved beyond a doubt that the classics are not dead. In an era often marked by brutish grunts posing as communication, there are still some people who know how to unleash the full power of words.

My evening of joyful discovery was made complete a few innings later when the same two young lads applied a modern twist to a classic form, shouting together: “We’re gonna kick your butt, All the way to Pizza Hut!”

# # #

(The humor column “A Matter of Laugh or Death” appeared weekly for 24 years in the Republican-American newspaper, Waterbury, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

HERE ARE MORE EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

“What’s ‘cocktail attire’?” I asked my wife.

She replied, “Well, I’ll wear a dress and … you won’t.”

“Wasn’t planning on it … this time,” I noted. (We employ a lot of ellipses in our conversations, by the way.)

We concluded that “cocktail attire” is somewhere between formal — tuxedos and floor-length gowns — and casual — jeans and golf shirts. But does that mean I can wear jeans with a tuxedo jacket? Or tuxedo pants (with that weird movie theater usher stripe down the side of each leg) plus a dirty gray tee-shirt?

I remember the “bad ol’ days,” when cocktails were the main focus of my life. Quite often my attire while guzzling cocktails consisted of gym shorts, flip-flops, a Red Sox cap, sunglasses, and no shirt. Then, in the summer, I would dress even more casually.

Based on my personal history, the term “cocktail attire” has no real meaning, since I was quite adept at drinking heavily no matter what I was wearing, or not wearing.

My wife said that she would wear a regular dress, but not a formal floor-length gown. I offered to wear my old stand-by, which has served me well since I quit drinking during the Reagan Administration: white button-down collar shirt, khaki pants, blue sports jacket, and brown loafers. (After many, many years, I suppose I should consider getting a new sports jacket. I’m not saying the one I have now is snug, but I can no longer get the buttons to come within eight inches of the appropriate button holes.)

Out of curiosity, I looked up online to see if there is a definition of “cocktail attire.” This is what I found: “Cocktail attire is a semi-formal dress code balancing elegance and comfort. It typically requires a suit and tie for men, and a knee-length, midi dress or a dressy jumpsuit for women, avoiding both casual clothes like jeans and ultra-formal wear like tuxedos or floor-length gowns.”

Whoa, wait a minute. A suit and tie for men? I have a charcoal gray suit in the back of the closet that may or may not fit. And I have a couple of ties, somewhere. But in my mind, that is ultra formal attire. Tuxedos? They are not even on my radar, since I rented a tuxedo exactly twice in my life. Once for the Junior Prom in high school, and the jacket was actually pink, no lie. But I have diplomatic immunity because it was the 1970s — “The Decade that Fashion Forgot” — so I can’t be held responsible. The other time I rented a tux was for my brother’s wedding. It was the traditional black jacket, black pants (with that weird movie theater usher stripe down each leg), black shoes, black tie, plus a white shirt. But that was over four decades ago, and I know for a fact that I will never, ever wear a tuxedo again, so that’s not even an option. To me, a suit and tie is the height of formal attire, and the next time I plan to be dressed that way is when I’m on display in a box.

So, there is no way that I will agree that a suit and tie is classified as “cocktail attire.” The blue sports jacket, white shirt, khakis, and NO tie is more than enough, in my opinion. If my nephew and his new bride have a problem with that, then I’ll just have to play the senile Boomer Geezer card.

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My wife reminded me the wedding is at a very fancy beach club in an upscale Connecticut shoreline town. Beach club? In early September? Well, that settles it. I am going to wear the most appropriate “cocktail attire” possible for that environment: flip-flops, Red Sox cap, sunglasses, no shirt, and my favorite Speedo.

# # #

(The humor column “A Matter of Laugh or Death” appeared weekly for 24 years in the Republican-American newspaper, Waterbury, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than the price of a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

HERE ARE OTHER EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

Since Scripture clearly teaches that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” what’s the solution? If only the holy and righteous can enter into Heaven, then it seems Heaven will be a rather desolate place, while Hell will remind us of Times Square on New Year’s Eve.

God could offer people a blanket pardon. Similar to a presidential pardon, the criminal’s record could be wiped clean and the person declared innocent. Then he or she would be free to leave prison. But think about why presidential pardons are often so distasteful. They’re usually given to the president’s friends, family, and financial supporters. Like so much that occurs in Washington, the pardons are usually yet another sleazy political payoff.

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When it comes to sin, we are all guilty. We all have violated God’s Law at some point in our life. It, indeed, would be a mockery of justice if God just offered a blanket pardon. A price for sin must be paid.

Think of it this way: a man is found guilty of committing a crime, and the judge says, “You must pay a fine of $5,000.” That price has to be paid or else he cannot go free. The crime (or the sin) requires payment; it’s what justice demands.

Now, imagine that after the judge declares that a fine of $5,000 must be paid, the judge gets up from the bench, takes off his robe, and walks around to the front and stands next to the convicted person. The judge says, “I’m going to pay the fine for you, out of my own money.” Then he holds up his hand, revealing his checkbook.

There are probably legal reasons why this would not be allowed to happen in a modern courtroom, but we’re just imagining here. This scenario is very similar to what God has done. He gave the Law and said, “If you want to go to Heaven, obey the Law.” We discovered it’s impossible to obey the Law completely, and therefore we all have sinned. God’s Word says, “The wages of sin is death” — that is, the penalty for being a sinner is death. We are judged, declared guilty, and the sentence and/or fine is pronounced. But then, God incarnate gets up from behind the judge’s bench, comes around to the front and stands next to us. The Lord says, “I’m going to pay the fine for you, out of my own life.” Then he holds up his hands, revealing ugly nail holes.

Personally speaking, a blanket pardon issued by God would be great. Of course, that’s the view of someone who knows he’s a sinner. But if God ignored sin and actually issued a blanket pardon, it would violate God’s very nature, which is perfect goodness and righteousness.

God is the God of love and mercy. No doubt about that. But He also is the God of truth and justice. If sinners are given a blanket pardon without any price being paid, it is not justice. The only way God can be love and mercy, as well as truth and justice — all at the same time — is if He steps forward and pays the price Himself. That’s what love does. That’s what justice requires.

Christ’s death on the cross paid the price for our sins. All we have to do is believe that it’s true and put our faith in Him. And then, out of gratitude for such sacrificial love, we must strive to live holy and righteous lives.

So, no matter how attractive it seems, there is no blanket pardon. But there is Calvary. There is the atoning sacrifice of the cross. It’s the only way God can remain loving and merciful, and at the same time righteous and just.

# # #

(These “Merry Catholic” essays are featured on WJMJ, 88.9 FM, the radio station for the Archdiocese of Hartford, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than the price of a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

AND DON’T FORGET, THERE ARE LOTS OF OTHER EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A dramatic and plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

Honestly made? What does that mean? And why is it trade-marked? Does the phrase mean the others products Levi Strauss manufactures, along with everything they’ve ever sold since the company’s inception, have been dishonestly made?

Are they finally coming clean and admitting the company’s guiding principles all these years have been deception and fraud? I suspect not. But to make sure, I went to their website and did a key word search for “honestly made.” The search turned up nothing.

Well, whatever “Honestly Made™” is supposed to mean, the firm’s website was no help. So that means I’ll have to do what I do best: employ wild speculation.

If I had to guess, I’d say the phrase “Honestly Made™” was created by the company’s marketing department rather than the legal or ethics departments. (Ethics department? What am I saying? International corporations don’t have ethics departments. That might hurt the bottom line.)

Here’s how it probably happened. Surveys indicate people are concerned about garments being manufactured in brutal third-world sweatshops. At a high level meeting one day, the head of Marketing said, “We have to come up with a slogan to show customers that we care, that we’d never use brutal third-world sweatshops.”

Junior marketing executive: “How about, ‘We don’t use brutal third-world sweatshops’?”

Representative from the Legal department: “Um, we can’t say that. It would be, uh, technically incorrect.”

Junior exec.: “You mean dishonest?” Legal: “Your word, not mine.”

Another marketing executive: “How about, ‘We pay high wages’?” Legal: “Um, once again that could be construed as a disingenuous declaration of…”

Head of Marketing: “OK, fine. We get the point. C’mon fellas, think. We have to portray the image that we’re not dishonest.” Yet another marketing executive: “How about, ‘Honestly made’?”

Head of Marketing: “Ooh, I like that. Short and sweet. Sounds great and yet says nothing. Hey Legal, get that phrase trade-marked right away so none of our competitors can use it. Good job, guys. Let’s break for lunch.”

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And so, they went out for a joyful 3-martini lunch, and put the $600 bill on the company expense account. Meanwhile, brutal third-world sweatshops were making preparations to begin sewing new “Honestly Made™” labels onto thousands of garments. Good thing none of the laborers can read English.

Anyway, that’s my speculation of what might have happened, since the Levi Strauss website doesn’t explain. But you really can’t blame the Marketing department. Their job is to create an image of the product that will entice potential customers to make a purchase. Market research shows if you want to entice customers nowadays, you should focus on these issues: factory working conditions, animal rights, and the environment.

That’s why you can find many products for sale these days with claims such as, “Fair wage” coffee, “Free range” chickens, “Almost rodent hair free” hot dogs, “No blind bunnies” cosmetics, and “Environmental friendly” everything, including soaps, pesticides, and nuclear missiles.

By far, the most popular claim today is that a product is “green.” This implies the product does not harm the environment, and it was produced using a minimal amount of natural resources and energy. In many cases, however, the word “green” means the product is, for example, not blue. Or the word “green” might refer to the tons of cash pouring into the company’s coffers. Who knows?

In conclusion, I’d like to point out this column is very “green” (as it required a minimal amount of energy on my part). Also it is “Honestly Made.” (Sort of.)

# # #

(The humor column “A Matter of Laugh or Death” appeared weekly for 24 years in the Republican-American newspaper, Waterbury, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

HERE ARE MORE EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

I’m not even sure how it came up in conversation, but when we started talking about Ferguson, one guy ran out to his car and came back showing off his “Live at Jimmy’s” CD, which he claimed he plays constantly while driving. I was completely amazed, and I exclaimed to him, “Who even has a CD player in their car anymore?!”

Oh, and I was amazed, too, at the “Live at Jimmy’s” disc, especially since I had always assumed I was one of the few people in the world who fell in love with that album in the mid 1970s and still enjoyed it today.

If you’re not familiar with Maynard Ferguson, well, thank goodness for YouTube. Even two decades after his death at age 78, Ferguson is still considered one of the best jazz trumpeters of all time. A lot of guys can play high notes, and a lot can play loud, but Maynard might have been the best ever at playing high and loud. He and his band would create a wall of sound that just overwhelmed the audience.

When he died, the Washington Post obituary stated: “Ferguson lit up thousands of young horn players, most of them boys, with pride and excitement. In a high school world often divided between jocks and band nerds, Ferguson crossed over, because he approached his music almost as an athletic event. On stage, he strained, sweated, heaved and roared. He nailed the upper registers like Shaq nailing a dunk….the audience reaction was exactly the same: the guttural shout, the leap to their feet, the fists in the air. We cheered Maynard as a gladiator, a combat soldier, a prize fighter….choose your masculine archetype.”

I’m fortunate to have seen him play in person one time, back in the mid-80s, and it was spectacular. His show was indeed more like a playoff game in a stadium rather than a concert in a theater.

When I was in high school, back in the ‘70s, our jazz band played many Ferguson arrangements. We had one kid who was an excellent trumpeter, Donny Kimball, and he did a commendable job hitting the high notes — not nearly as rich and full and loud as Ferguson, of course, but very impressive for a 16-year-old. It was so much fun to listen to. That’s when I first heard the “Live at Jimmy’s” album, a show recorded at a New York City nightclub.

The Wapo obituary accurately described the crossover between the “jocks” and the “band nerds.” I was one of the few people who had a foot in both worlds. I was mostly in the jock group, but I also played the baritone horn in the school band and sang bass in the chorus — not because I had any notable musical talent, but mostly because I needed a couple of easy half-credit classes. (We’d get an automatic “A” for just showing up to rehearsal, back when an automatic “A” was not standard procedure in the scholastic world, as it is today. Oops, cranky geezer alert! Sorry.)

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Anyway, I was one of the few jocks who had band nerd friends. Or maybe the more accurate way to describe it is to say I was one of the few band nerds who had jock friends. Either way, when our jazz band would play songs made popular by Maynard Ferguson, all the cliquey high school groups came together to enjoy it. Then when we heard the real deal on an album, such as “Live at Jimmy’s,” everyone was simply blown away.

It doesn’t really do any good typing away on my laptop about Maynard Ferguson, while his music is playing inside my head right now, since I’m pretty sure no one else can hear it. (By the way, if you can hear the songs bouncing around in my head right now, umm, we need to talk.) If there are any other band-nerd-jocks from the ‘70s and ‘80s out there, who really enjoy the music of Maynard Ferguson, please let me know. And now, let’s go right to the YouTube links, so you can have these tunes swirling around in your head. Here are some of my favorites:

“MacArthur Park,” from the “Live at Jimmy’s” album — (click image)

“Birdland,” performed on the “Mike Douglas Show” — (click image)

“Gonna Fly Now,” from a different “Mike Douglas Show” appearance (he must’ve been pals with Mike) — (click image)

# # #

(The humor column “A Matter of Laugh or Death” appeared weekly for 24 years in the Republican-American newspaper, Waterbury, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than the price of a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

HERE ARE OTHER EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

Scripture clearly tells us that God is the God of love. Our instincts and reason tell us that if love is the greatest emotion humans can experience, then our Creator must consider love to be supremely important, too. The God of love made human beings because of love, and He passionately wants us to enter into loving relationships with Him, both now and forever.

So, if God loves each and every one of us that much, doesn’t it make sense that, in the end, He will let everyone into Heaven? To phrase it another way, would a loving God really send creatures He cherishes into the eternal torment of Hell?

Those are certainly reasonable questions. If God is love, how can He condemn people — people He claims to love — to the fires of Hell?

Well, the first thing we should point out is that God does not SEND people to Hell. One of the greatest Christian authors of the 20th century, C.S. Lewis, wrote in his interesting little book, The Great Divorce: “There are only two types of people in the end: those who say to God, ‘Thy will be done,’ and those to whom God says, in the end, ‘Thy will be done.’ All that are in Hell, choose it. Without that self-choice there could be no Hell.”

God believes strongly in freedom. He gives each of us the freedom to embrace Him in faith and the freedom to ignore Him. Those who choose to ignore God, those who want to have nothing to do with Him, get exactly what they seek: complete and eternal separation from the source of all goodness and love. The loneliness, the lack of joy, and the regret that results just might be the torment the Bible describes as “fiery.”

This is the first reason that not everyone will eventually end up in Heaven. Some people freely choose to be as far from God as possible, and He honors that choice. Besides, many people, especially the very proud and self-centered, would hate Heaven anyway. In Heaven, everyone focuses their full attention, day and night, on God. Folks who crave attention for themselves surely will think that Heaven is hellish. Some Christian thinkers have even speculated that Heaven and Hell are the same place, just perceived differently by different people. Think of the opera or a hip hop concert. Some in the audience love it, while others hate it, even though it’s the same show.

The second reason not everyone goes to Heaven is the fact that God is holy and righteous. If God “rewarded” everyone with Heaven, even those who committed terrible sins without ever repenting, then He would be making a mockery of the concept of Justice. God would be rewarding evil as if it were good, and that would violate the other aspect of His essence: truth and goodness. God can never turn a blind eye to sin, and reward it as if it were something good. He just can’t do that, or else He wouldn’t be holy and righteous.

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So, God is the God of love and mercy, but He also is the God of righteousness and justice. Because of this, and because human beings have the freedom to reject God, there must be a Hell. I sincerely wish Hell was not real and everyone, no matter who they are and what they did, could enter into eternal joy in Heaven.

When we asked the question: “Which is more likely, that everyone goes to Heaven, or that Hell is still a possibility?” the only logical answer is that Hell is still a possibility. God’s sense of Justice and Mankind’s freedom to reject God make the existence of Hell inevitable.

# # #

(These “Merry Catholic” essays are featured on WJMJ, 88.9 FM, the radio station for the Archdiocese of Hartford, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than the price of a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

AND DON’T FORGET, THERE ARE LOTS OF OTHER EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A dramatic and plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

This came to mind the other day when I was traveling on business and needed to use the men’s room in a hotel lobby. As I exited the extra wide, handicap toilet stall, I came face-to-face with a guy in a wheelchair. He didn’t say anything, but if looks could kill, soon after there would’ve been a chalk outline of my body on that tile floor.

We didn’t speak to each other, as I am not a fan of conversing with people who are mad at me, and he obviously was in a hurry to get inside the stall. So we just passed each other silently.

But I wonder what we would’ve said if we had had the opportunity to talk. Since I’m required to submit a minimum of 600 words each week for my newspaper column, and since I’m just about out of ideas here at the 170-word mark, I will take the liberty of presenting what I’m sure we would’ve said.

Me: “Um, sorry, man.”

Him: “That’s a handicap stall, you know.”

Me: “Yeah, but the regular stall was occupied when I came in.”

Him: “Oh sure. It’s empty now.”

Me: “Well, there was someone in there five minutes ago.”

Him: “I’ve been waiting here for at least ten minutes.”

Me: “No way.”

Him: “Way.”

Me: “I’m still only at 250 words. Let’s use bigger sentences.”

Him: “Sure.”

Me: “That doesn’t help. Anyway, are handicap toilet stalls the same as handicap parking spaces? I mean, I’m not going to park here for an hour — unless I have the sports page with me — and thus prevent you from using it at all.”

Him: “Oh please. You’ve never use the word ‘thus’ in a conversation in your entire life. Why start now?”

Me: “Sorry, I’m kind of worried about my word count this week — and thus the use of ‘thus.’”

Him: “Now you’re really starting to annoy me.”

Me: “Sorry. But back to my question. A handicap stall is not the same as parking space, right?”

Him: “That’s not the point. This is a handicap stall, and you are not handicapped.”

Me: “But when I came in here, it was the only stall available.”

Him: “First, I don’t believe that. And second, even if true, when you go to Wal-Mart, if every parking space is full except for the handicap spots, do you just break the law and park in one of them?”

Me: “Um, when it’s cold outside I sometimes limp a little because of my bad knee.”

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Him: “Ooh, if I had a cane, I’d smack you on the head.”

Me: “Hey, there’s no need to threaten violence.”

Him: “Don’t blame me, you’re the jerk writing this fictitious conversation. I would never have said that. Now please move aside. I have to get in there.”

Me: “So soon? I’m only at 500 words.”

Him: “Move it, pal, or I’ll tell the front desk that you’re not even staying at this hotel. You just stopped here to use their bathrooms!”

And then he rolled into the stall and slammed the door behind him. So, I’m not sure what the answer is. In my mind, if I use the stall quickly, it’s not a problem. It’s certainly not the same as leaving my car in a handicap parking spot.

Just then, the desk clerk entered the men’s room. “Excuse me, sir. Do you own a silver Honda?”

Me: “Yeah, why?”

Desk clerk: “It was just towed away. You parked in a handicap spot.”

Him (from inside the stall): “Ha, ha!”

# # #

(The humor column “A Matter of Laugh or Death” appeared weekly for 24 years in the Republican-American newspaper, Waterbury, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

HERE ARE MORE EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

Before anyone could speak, she answered her own question by declaring, “I’d pick the Renaissance! I’d love to live during that time. The clothes were so cool! Everything was so gallant and chivalrous!”

A different woman said, “I would choose the American Revolution. It was such a dramatic and historically important time.”

The third one said, “If I could, I’d go back to biblical times. It would be great to see Jesus and all the apostles in the flesh.”

I nodded, then noted, “Well, that certainly would be interesting. Although you wouldn’t understand a single word anyone was saying since the English language hadn’t emerged yet.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” the first one said. Then she paused and added, “You didn’t tell us what era you’d choose, Bill. What historic time would you want to experience in person?”

“Well, that’s a tough one,” I answered. “You see, I’m not really interested in going back in time and experiencing life without antibiotics, or flush toilets, or anesthesia, or refrigeration, or clean running water. I think life would be kind of grim without those things, not to mention only bathing about twice a year and a high chance of dying from cholera before age 30.”

Did I ever tell you I’m a barrel of laughs at social events?

My three companions looked at me and rolled their eyes. (Yes, I counted. A total of six eyes were in motion simultaneously.)

“Buzzkill,” one lady muttered.

Another one said, “Bill, we’re not talking about that kind of stuff. We’re just talking about different times in history that were exciting, dramatic, and memorable.”

I shrugged and replied, “I dunno. Not having to use an outhouse every morning sounds exciting to me. Taking some amoxicillin rather than having my gangrenous foot amputated — with no anesthesia — strikes me as dramatic. Not watching my wife die during childbirth could be considered somewhat memorable.”

“OK, fine. We get the point,” the first woman said. “Sorry I brought it up.”

“No no, wait,” I said. “It’s an interesting question. But let me clarify something. In your fantasy scenario, do we have to live our whole life during the era we pick, or are we just visiting for a short time?”

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“I don’t know,” she answered with another eye roll. “I didn’t think about it in that much detail. I just wanted to start a fun conversation. I didn’t expect anyone to crunch numbers in an Excel spreadsheet.”

“I did not make a spreadsheet,” I said defensively. “I don’t even have my computer with me. I just scribbled some notes on this piece of graph paper I had in my shirt pocket.”

The conversation dragged a bit after that. I felt it was my duty to liven things up again. So, I smiled and said, “OK, here we go. A new question for the group: Which historical event would you like to witness in person — and then be back home in time for dinner here in the present?”

One of the women said, “You go first, Bill.”

“OK. For me, it’s easy: St. Louis, Missouri. October 27, 2004.”

“What happened then?” a different woman asked.

“Red Sox won the World Series for the first time in 86 years. I would’ve loved to have been there.”

All three of my companions looked at each other and shrugged. Finally, one spoke for all of them: “We’re not really into sports, Bill. But good effort.”

Another one said, “Maybe we should not talk for while.”

Well, as I mentioned earlier, I am a barrel of laughs at social events.

# # #

(The humor column “A Matter of Laugh or Death” appeared weekly for 24 years in the Republican-American newspaper, Waterbury, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than the price of a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

HERE ARE OTHER EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

Let me say this right up front: I wish, oh how I WISH, that God communicated with human beings in spectacular and obvious ways. Wouldn’t it be great if supernatural visions appeared in the sky on a regular basis, booming out clear instructions for us?

If that happened, then there would be no doubt. We would know for certain that God exists. We would know exactly what He wants from us. And we could go out and obediently do it. That would be great.

However, God apparently is much more subtle. He allegedly communicates to Mankind through ancient texts, quiet prayer, prophets and saints, traditional liturgies, and the faint interior voice known as our conscience.

As a result, it’s quite easy for people to suspect that God may not even be there. Maybe it’s all a fantasy, a man-made story that makes some people feel good, but in the end, is just a quirky fable. Who can know for sure?

If God is real, why is He so mysterious and subtle and inconspicuous? If He really wants people to know Him and love Him, why doesn’t He simply broadcast His will from the highest mountains, with flashing lights and a booming voice, so no one could ever doubt?

Well, as we discussed last week, the essence of God, and the most fulfilling experience human beings can have, is love. God is love, and the only reason He created us is so we can enter into loving relationships with Him.

What is the one thing that is required for love to be genuine? It is freedom. If people have no choice in the matter, then are they really in love? We really don’t know.

Many cultures have arranged marriages. The husband and wife have no choice. They must get married to each other. It is not love; it’s coercion.

Is it possible that they eventually fall in love? Sure, it could happen. But the only way we know for sure that they are in love is if each party has the freedom to leave the relationship and instead chooses to stay.

Maybe God operates the same way. He wants each one of His precious human creations to enter into a loving relationship with Him. But if He made it so obvious — with supernatural visions and a booming voice — then people would have no choice. Only a fool would refuse. We would be, in effect, little robots programmed to embrace Him. We would have no choice. It would be a type of coercion. Which means there would be no way to know whether it was true love.

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Everyone who enters into a loving relationship with God must have the freedom to say no. That’s the only way to be sure that it’s true love. Therefore, supernatural visions and booming voices are not appropriate. That would be so obvious it would take away our choice. It would be similar to an arranged marriage.

As a result, God’s communication with us must be subtle. There must be some element of doubt. There must be faith and trust.

God most definitely communicates with us, through the beauty and complexity of nature; also through a still small voice speaking to our hearts, along with Scripture, prophets and saints, and traditional liturgies. But His communication is quiet. It is subtle. It leaves room for doubt.

Returning to the original question: which is more likely, that God communicates with us in subtle ways, or in spectacular and obvious ways? Because of the nature of love, it must be subtle. There must be freedom. There must not be any coercion, and no programmed little robots who cannot refuse.

There are many times when I wish God would overwhelm us with supernatural visions and a booming voice. That would remove all doubt. But that is not the way love works. The only thing that makes sense is that God communicates with us very, very subtly.

# # #

(These “Merry Catholic” essays are featured on WJMJ, 88.9 FM, the radio station for the Archdiocese of Hartford, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than the price of a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

AND DON’T FORGET, THERE ARE LOTS OF OTHER EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A dramatic and plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

Dear Prof. Grammar Guy: Isn’t this column just a cheap attempt to copy Dave Barry’s “Mr. Language Person” columns? –Bonnie M., Burrville, Conn.

Dear Bonnie: If I were copying Mr. Barry, then this column would be funny. As you soon shall discover, Prof. Grammar Guy has NOTHING in common with Mr. Language Person.

Dear Prof. Grammar Guy: I can’t stand it when people change from singular to plural in the same sentence, such as, “Everyone needs to get their math book out.” It drives me nuts! –Jennifer Z., Burrville, Iowa.

Dear Jennifer: I see your point. It should be, “Everyone needs to get their science book out.” Also, your question should read, “I can’t stand it when people change from singular to plural….It drives us nuts!”

Dear Prof. Grammar Guy: I hear people say, “I got some beer in my fridge.” This sounds to me like an incorrect use of the word “got.” Is it? –Mike L., Burrville, Calif.

Dear Mike: You got a good ear, my friend. People should instead say, “I got to get some beer from your fridge.”

Dear Prof. Grammar Guy: When someone writes, “People should instead say,” doesn’t this split the past participle infinitive, thereby violating the should-would-could compound verb law of grammar? –Arnold B., Burrville, Ohio.

Dear Arnold: No, not exactly, but you’re close. Locating the word “instead” between “should” and “say” actually fractures the future indicative supernumerary, thereby violating Newton’s second law of thermodynamics. The proper way to construct this sentence is, “People shoulda-woulda-coulda say.”

Dear Prof. Grammar Guy: Does it really matter anyhow if people use uncorrect grammar? I mean, isn’t getting your message across much more importanter than dopey old rules? –George W., Burrville, D.C.

Dear Mr. President: I lost you there, big guy. Exactly what message are you trying to get across with your question?

Dear Prof. Grammar Guy: I suspect my husband is having an affair with his secretary, but I don’t have any real proof. What should I do? –Hillary R., Burrville, NY.

Dear Hillary: I think you are confusing Prof. Grammar Guy with another famous Q&A advice columnist, The Car Doctor. So let me give the answer I believe The Car Doctor would offer: First, make sure your front tires are properly inflated. Then take your car and drive it over your husband. If his secretary comes to the wake, you will know that your suspicions were correct. On the way to the cemetery, feel free to drive your car over her, too. Then — and this is very important — immediately take your car to a reputable mechanic to adjust the front end alignment.

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Dear Prof. Grammar Guy: My car’s engine makes a funny clicking noise when I accelerate. What do you think the problem is? –Leonard C., Burrville, Ark.

Dear Leonard: I think you are confusing Prof. Grammar Guy with another famous Q&A advice columnist, Dear Abby. So let me give the answer I believe Dear Abby would offer: Keeping your fears bottled up will only make you more unhappy. You must get your concerns out in the open. Say to your car, “I don’t appreciate those clicking noises.” But wait until your car is in a good mood to bring up this uncomfortable topic.

Well, thankfully, we am out of time for today’s installment of “Ask Professor Grammar Guy.” Additional questions can be sent to this newspaper, to the attention of Dave Barry.

# # #

(The humor column “A Matter of Laugh or Death” appeared weekly for 24 years in the Republican-American newspaper, Waterbury, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

HERE ARE MORE EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

It’s a fact that falling down has destroyed the lives of more senior citizens than online scams. At least when that Nigerian prince offers to split his vast wealth if you provide your bank account numbers, people have the option to ignore the offer and hit the delete key. However, at the moment when some gray-haired guy or gal reaches a 45-degree angle and continues to accelerate toward the floor, ignoring gravity is not an option. There is no “reset” key that will immediately put him or her back in the upright and locked position.

Recently, my sister sent me a link to a short video of comedian Brad Upton. He was discussing the fact that for his whole life he has been putting on and taking off his pants while standing up. It was the simplest thing in the world. But now that he’s a senior citizen, he realized that putting on his pants while standing is dangerous. This is how he described it: “You hook a toe, and it’s two hops and a crash.”

He’s right. Most seniors don’t even need to snag a toe on a pant leg to lose their balance. Our official default setting is now “Teetering.” Other standard settings are squinting while driving at night, and saying, “What?!” whenever someone else speaks.

If I snag a toe halfway through putting on my pants while standing, the “two hops and a crash” will result in the following: 911 call, ambulance ride to the ER, surgery (hip and/or shoulder and/or wrist and/or skull), orthopedic rehab, wheelchair, walker, then cane. After about six months, the doctors will declare me healed, but my body will know better. At that point, I will not have aged six months; I will have aged at least a full decade.

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Right now, people occasionally say to me, “Wow, Bill, you don’t look like you’re almost 70!” (I assume they mean I appear a bit younger than my age, but I’m not about to ask for clarification for fear they’ll tell the truth.) However, if I experience “two hops and a crash” plus the ensuing medical ordeal, I know that if people say to me at that time, “Wow, Bill, you don’t look like you’re almost 70!” what they’ll be thinking is, Yeow, I thought you were in your 80s!

I’m sure at this point some people want to warn me: “Bill, I can’t believe you’re writing about this topic! You’re gonna jinx yourself. How would you feel if you fell and broke a bone the same day this essay is posted on Substack?”

Um, if I fall and break a bone, I’m pretty sure the ironic timing of an online essay will be the furthest thing from my mind. I believe how I will feel at that moment can be summarized by what I will be saying at that moment, “OWWWWWWWWWWWW!!! Gimme drugs! NOW!!”

I look at it differently. By writing about this fearful scenario, I just might be protecting myself from it actually happening. To give you an example, over the years I’ve written about a lot of things that I wish would occur: get a lot of paid subscribers, have a large publishing house actually reply to one of my book proposals, and make the New York Times bestseller list. None of those things have come true, so I figure writing about falling and breaking some bones may be the best way to guard against it happening.

Or maybe not. Who knows? The one thing I do know is, I have to be vigilant. I have to make sure I don’t put myself in a dangerous situation where I might fall. (Although the list of dangerous situations probably includes “standing” and “walking.”)

For starters, I should never again put on my pants while standing. I can’t risk experiencing “two hops and a crash.” Also, I should try to be more optimistic. Maybe, just maybe, falling down will not be my downfall. After all, there are dozens of other things that could take me out first!

# # #

(The humor column “A Matter of Laugh or Death” appeared weekly for 24 years in the Republican-American newspaper, Waterbury, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than the price of a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

HERE ARE OTHER EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

It is possible, I suppose, for the supernatural Creator, the all-powerful and eternal Being who brought the Universe into existence, to have a rather mean and nasty personality. The false gods of polytheistic cultures were often portrayed this way. The pantheon of deities in Greek and Roman mythology were usually depicted with greatly enhanced human characteristics. They were angry, impulsive, vengeful, lustful, intoxicated, and impetuous — but on a supernatural scale. Since God is God, and by definition can do anything He chooses, it is possible that He could be a nasty character.

Although it’s possible for God to be cruel and vindictive, is it likely? As we mentioned last week, it is obvious that God has the ability to communicate and the desire to communicate with us, for the simple reason that we have those same abilities and desires. It is not logical for created beings to possess greater abilities than their Creator, so we have to conclude God also has the ability to communicate and the desire to do so. This is why the claim that God is distant and indifferent and silent does not really add up.

In the same way, if the greatest experience we can have is to be in love, what are the odds that our Creator is unable to have those same experiences? Think about it: the pinnacle of our existence — the most powerful and fulfilling activity human beings can experience — is to enter into loving relationships with other persons. It is the peak. It’s become a cliche that very rich people, on their death beds, regret spending so much time accumulating wealth rather than accumulating friends. Love is what we were made for.

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So, is it probable that we were created with an overwhelming desire for love, but our Creator’s main motivation was to be cruel and inflict pain on others? No, it doesn’t make sense.

Scripture says that humans were created in God’s image. This is the reason every person has inestimable worth, and therefore, any ideology proclaiming that certain people are expendable comes straight from the pit of Hell. Three of the prominent features of being created in God’s image are: 1) the yearning to enter into loving relationships, 2) the desire to communicate with others, and 3) the instinct to be creative.

Now, some people point out that human beings also possess the inclination to be cruel and selfish, and therefore those must be traits we received while being created in God’s image. Please don’t be fooled by that claim. Yes, we humans are inclined to be cruel and selfish. But those are not traits we inherited from our Creator; those are traits we inherited from sin. In all cases, save for the few people who are truly psychotic, whenever human beings act cruelly or selfishly, the underlying motivations are often positive, such as wanting to provide for one’s family or trying to maintain order and discipline. However, when the effects of Original Sin, primarily pride and anger and fear, become part of the mix, pain and heartache quickly follow. Sin twists and corrupts moral aspects of life and makes them immoral.

So, returning to our question for today: “Which is more likely: a loving God or a cruel God?” The answer is plain. God is the God of love. He created us to be in loving relationships. He wants us to love Him, and to love our neighbors as ourselves. The cruelty we see in the world is the result of sin. God hates sin and weeps at the results of it.

We can trust that the God who created us loves us. If you have never reached out to the Lord of Life and asked Him to dwell in your heart, today would be a great day to do so.

# # #

(These “Merry Catholic” essays are featured on WJMJ, 88.9 FM, the radio station for the Archdiocese of Hartford, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than the price of a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

AND DON’T FORGET, THERE ARE LOTS OF OTHER EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A dramatic and plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

Here is a list of other hybrid words. In some cases I was able to find the original source of the word, which is shown in parentheses.

Absotively (Michael Scott, TV character) – “absolutely” and “positively.” Used as follows: “I will absotively have that report ready tomorrow,” which really means, “No chance.”

Gription (Joe Scott, my brother-in-law) – “grip” and “traction.” Said to person lying on gym floor, writhing in agony after blowing out knee ligaments: “I guess your sneakers didn’t have enough gription, huh?”

Crassmas – “crass” and “Christmas.” A description of the overly commercial holiday season.

Slerk – “seasonal” and “clerk.” A person working part time in a retail store during the Crassmas season, who doesn’t like his or her job, which leads to…

Fusstomer – “fussy” and “customer.” A person who waited until the last minute, and now is trying to buy Christmas presents for the entire family and is losing his patience with a slow-motion slerk.

Manssiere (Seinfeld episode) – “man” and “brassiere.” A bra for guys who could find employment at Hooters. Also called “the Bro.”

Hollyweird (countless millions) – “Hollywood” and “weird.” A description of the bizarre values of the movie industry.

Shrillbilly – “shrill” and “hillbilly.” A country music singer with a screechy voice.

Ginormous (Rachel Ray) – “gigantic” and “enormous.” Describes something that is especially huge, such as Rachel Ray’s career (although personally, I don’t understand why).

Wikipedia – “wickedly inaccurate” and “encyclopedia.”

Insoxicated (me) – “intoxicated” and “Red Sox.” The giddy feeling that comes from winning two World Series in four years.

Faneurysm – “fan” and “aneurysm.” Having a stroke while watching a pampered millionaire ballplayer drop a potential touchdown pass in the end zone.

Ignoranus – “ignorant” and “anus.” Describes a person who is both stupid and an, um, a jerk.

Diabesity – “diabetes” and “obesity.” What a person will develop if he or she continues to eat like he’s still 16 years old.

Annoypid (Bucky Katt, comic strip character) – “annoying” and “stupid.”

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Pretengineer (my daughter) – “pretend” and “engineer.” Describes a person (her father) whose job is to work with engineers, but who bailed out of the School of Engineering before getting a degree.

Monodrone – “monotone” and “drone.” Whispered frequently by audience members when Al Gore is giving a speech.

Sitbomb – “sitcom” and “bomb.” TV show that is hyped for five months and then gets cancelled after three episodes because it’s so unfunny.

Friendicitis (me) – “friend” and “appendicitis.” An overly needy friend who becomes a constant pain in your side.

Pornification (Laura Ingraham) – “porn” and “unification.” What happens to a culture when few people care that 10-year-old girls are dressing like prostitutes and 11-year-old boys are visiting X-rated websites.

Meteorologuess (me) – “meteorologist” and “guess.” A more accurate description of how TV weather professionals do their job.

If you know of any other clever hybrid words, please send me an email. I’ll list them in a future column. This brings us to the last hybrid word for today:

Freesearch – “free” and “research.” When a columnist is too lazy to do his own research and asks the readers to send in ideas.

# # #

(The humor column “A Matter of Laugh or Death” appeared weekly for 24 years in the Republican-American newspaper, Waterbury, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

HERE ARE MORE EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

“Bill, it’s me!” the man said. “I’m Rip, your cousin. Rip Van Dunnkle.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “My cousin Rip went missing years ago, and he’s presumed dead. I went to the memorial service.”

“It’s me, I tell ya,” he implored. “Something has happened to me. I don’t know exactly what, but I… I… Can I come in?”

“Um, why don’t we sit out here on the steps and talk,” I offered, preferring not to have a person who smells like a goat carcass inside the house.

I opened the door and stepped outside, reaching behind me to make sure my iPhone was in my back pocket, just in case I had to make a frantic 9-1-1 call. He sat on the top step of the stairs and leaned against the railing. I also sat on the top step, but as far away from him as I could. Luckily, he was downwind of me.

He began to talk. “I took my kayak into the Connecticut River yesterday, like I always do when I’m stressed out. I paddled around for a while, and then went to a desolate section of the river bank. I pulled the kayak onto the bank and walked up into the woods to get in the shade.”

“Yeah,” I said, “they found your— I mean, they found my cousin Rip’s kayak floating past the docks in Old Saybrook, but they never found the body.”

My words did not seem to register with him. He continued, “I was in the woods, sitting there next to a tree, when suddenly a group of strange men appeared. They were as surprised to see me as I was to see them. They were really odd looking. Strange clothes, big mustaches, almost like Civil War reenactors. Lots of brass buttons. They didn’t seem dangerous, but I was a little nervous. I said hi, and they returned the greeting. I noticed they were sharing what looked like a wine bottle with no label, passing it to each other. The man with the bottle held it out toward me and said, ‘Wouldst thou like a nip? ‘Tis quite good.’ I thought, Why not? So, I reached out for the bottle and took a small swig. Well, I’ll tell ya, it was not wine. I don’t know what it was, but it was strong and it burned my throat. The men continued walking and before they were out of sight, my head started spinning. I couldn’t even stand up. I flopped down next to the tree and passed out.”

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As the grungy man spoke, I thought to myself, He looks a lot like my cousin, and he sounds like him, too. I asked, “One drink from that bottle made you pass out?”

“Yup,” he said. “Out like a light. When I woke up, I could tell it was early morning. I slept through the whole night! I was under a large pile of sticks and leaves. Those odd men must’ve covered me up as some stupid prank. When I got up, my back and legs were really stiff. I couldn’t believe how strong that liquor was. I went to find my kayak, but it was gone. I bet those weirdos in the strange clothes took it. So, I walked back through the woods until I reached Middlesex Turnpike. Then I walked to where I had parked my car. It wasn’t there, and the marina looked completely different than it did yesterday. That’s when I hitched-hiked to your house, because you’re my relative who lives closest to the marina. The guy had a pickup truck and for some reason he made me ride in the back. I’m really confused, Bill. I don’t know what’s going on. And I can’t figure out why my beard is suddenly so long and my clothes are torn.”

“Um, I think I have an idea about that, Cousin Rip,” I said. “When you went out in your kayak, what was the date?”

“The date? It was yesterday, July 24th.”

“And the year?” I asked.

“The year? Whattaya mean?” he said. “It was this year, 2006.”

“Rip, you’d better sit down,” I said solemnly.

“I am sitting down.”

“Then you’d better hold onto the railing,” I offered. “You see, today is July 25th—”

“I know that!” he interrupted.

“...July 25th, in the year twenty twenty-six.”

He stared at me for a moment, a puzzled look on his dirty face. Finally, he said quietly, “Huh?”

“Yes, the year is 2026, Rip. You’ve been asleep for 20 years!”

This time, he was unconscious for only five minutes, not two decades. When he came to, I said, “Rip, something really weird has happened, but don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. First, please don’t take this personally, but you really need a shower. C’mon inside. I’ll let you borrow some of my clothes while I put yours in the washing mach— uh, you know what, let’s make that the fire pit.”

While Rip was in the shower, I prepared some food for him, after first opening all the windows. Sleeping in the woods for two decades tends to envelope one with a distinctive aroma. I gave him some shorts, a pair of sweatpants, a tee shirt, and some old running shoes. All the clothes hung loosely on his bony frame. We sat in the living room.

“Is it really the year 2026?” he asked incredulously while wolfing down a PB&J sandwich.

In reply I held up my iPad. It was streaming the Red Sox game, which had just started. “What is that thing?!” he yelled. “A tiny television?”

“No, it’s called a tablet device. See, it does all kinds of cool stuff.” I swiped up so the ballgame disappeared, and then I opened the Gmail app and showed him my email inbox.

“Wait!” he yelled. “You made it change with just your finger!”

“Oh yeah, it’s a touch screen. Everything has a touch screen nowadays.”

Rip stared at me for a few moments, unsure of what to say. He looked back at the iPad in amazement, then said, “Where’s the wire for the internet?”

“No wires,” I said. “It’s all wifi and Bluetooth.”

He sat back in the chair, a small glob of peanut butter stuck in his beard, and shook his head. “Wow, I have missed so much,” he said softly. Then he leaned forward and said forcefully, “Bill, 20 years! I can’t believe it. How did this happen to me?”

“I dunno, Rip,” I said.

Rip finished chewing the last piece of his sandwich, then stood up and paced around the room. “Where’s my family?” he asked. “How are Doris and Rip Junior?”

“Um, yeah, you see, we all thought you drowned, Rip. Please, sit down. Anyway, about two years after you disappeared, well, Doris married your best friend Lenny.”

“Lenny? Lenny Kowalski? You’re kidding me! Hmm, well, Lenny is a pretty good guy. How are they doing?”

“They moved to Florida five years ago. I get a Christmas card from them every year. Seems like they’re OK.”

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“What else have I missed during the last 20 years?” he asked.

“Um, a lot of stuff, I guess,” I replied. “What was big news in 2006?”

“Well, let me think. One big story was the national debt. After September 11th and then the war in Iraq, Washington started borrowing money like crazy. The debt went over 8 trillion dollars! Can you believe that?! I hope they got it under control by now.”

“The national debt is currently a little under 40,” I said.

“Really? They brought it down to only 40 billion dollars? That’s great!”

“No,” I said. “Forty trillion dollars.”

Rip stared at me in disbelief. “How is it even possible to spend that much money?”

“A lot of people have been asking the same question, Rip.”

“Well, who’s the president now?”

“Donald Trump,” I replied.

“Trump? You mean that New York real estate guy, the ‘You’re fired!’ reality TV guy?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, I never woulda figured that.”

“You’re in good company, Rip.”

“Since he’s never been a politician before, he’s probably being low-key and cautious, right?”

“Uhh, yeah, surrrrre.”

Rip sat there, shaking his head slowly. Then he said, “Hey Bill, did you get my Blackberry out of my pants pocket?”

“It was all corroded and cracked,” I answered. “So, I had to throw it away.”

“Oh no! Dang it, I love that thing. You’ll have to take me to the Cingular store so I can get another one. You must have a Blackberry, right? Everyone has one. They are so awesome. You know, not too long before I fell asleep, I withdrew most of my savings and bought a ton of Blackberry stock. After 20 years, I’m probably a millionaire now.”

“Um, maybe not, Rip. You see, Blackberry doesn’t even make phones these days. They got crushed by Apple and Samsung.”

“Oh man, that was supposed to be the inheritance for Rip Junior. By the way, how is he doing? He must be 25 years old now.”

“Well, Rip Junior is now called Rippina. He’s a girl, I mean, she’s a girl.”

“Wait, what?” Rip said.

“You know, Rip, a lot has changed since 2006. I don’t want to overwhelm you. We can talk about it later.”

Suddenly, Rip stood up and headed for the front door.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Back to the river bank to find those weird guys. And they’d better have that bottle!”

# # #

(The humor column “A Matter of Laugh or Death” appeared weekly for 24 years in the Republican-American newspaper, Waterbury, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than the price of a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

HERE ARE OTHER EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

Because of the popular “Star Wars” movies, the first of which appeared almost a half-century ago, many people became enamoured with the concept of “the Force.” As is declared countless times in each movie, “May the Force be with you.”

In these movies, the Force is a supernatural, spiritual power. It gives those who can tap into it wisdom and understanding and the ability to perform miracles, such as levitating objects and choking someone from across the room by just the wave of a hand. The Force of “Star Wars” is impersonal, similar to electricity. It provides power, but it is not a sentient being, an actual person.

The “Star Wars” movies prompted a lot of folks to explore an ancient religious worldview: Pantheism. This is the belief that the Deity is a part of nature. The supernatural power infuses its spiritual presence into everything that exists on earth: rocks, trees, clouds, animals, and human beings. In the “Star Wars” movies, the Force is portrayed very much in this way: an impersonal, supernatural energy that empowers those who can access it, usually only Jedi Knights. (At least I think it was just the Jedi Knights. It’s been a long time since I watched those films.)

For our purposes, the key question is: is the supernatural Creator of the Universe an impersonal force or a personal Being? What is more likely?

The “Star Wars” version of an impersonal divine force is very attractive to certain people because it places no demands on them. There is no need to enter into a personal relationship with this mysterious power because it is unable to do so. As a result, this force cannot know every deep, dark secret about each person, which is comforting. Instead, people can utilize the impersonal force whenever needed, just as we turn on a light switch to employ the impersonal force of electricity. The emotions of shame and embarrassment, along with the idea of being held to a high moral standard, are not an issue. Only personal beings care about those issues, and an impersonal force cannot and does not care.

However, this view ignores an important reality: a creature cannot be greater than its Creator. The Pantheistic worldview insists that an impersonal power created beings, us, who have personalities. We have self-awareness. We can communicate and enter into loving relationships with other persons. It is illogical to claim the Creator has no personality, and therefore no ability to communicate with, nor enter into loving relationships, with the beings it created. That makes no sense. How can the Creator form out of nothing creatures that have more abilities and skills than it has?

So, the only logical conclusion is that the Creator of Mankind possesses the traits that were imbued into us. These traits include personality, self-awareness, and the ability to communicate and have relationships with other personal beings.

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Pantheism and its close cousin, Deism, do not add up. Deism, by the way, is the belief that the Creator is a personal God, unlike how the Deity is defined in Pantheism. However, with Deism, after creating us, the personal God chose to remain silent and not reveal Himself to us, nor engage in any communication with us. Basically, in this view, God created everything and then moved out of state, leaving no forwarding address. We’re on our own to try and make the best of our lives with what little information we have.

The only religious worldview that makes sense is Theism, the worldview of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. In this view, the divine Creator gave us some of the attributes He possesses: a mind, self-awareness, the ability to communicate, and the ability to enter into personal relationships.

Claiming that God is not personal doesn’t make sense. Created beings cannot possess more abilities than their Creator. The only thing that adds up is the view that God Almighty, the supernatural, spiritual, all-powerful Creator of the Universe, is personal. He has a personality. He can communicate. He can enter into relationships with other persons.

So, to answer the question posed at the beginning — What is the Creator of the Universe like? — the most likely answer is this: the Creator is a personal being. He created personal beings with the ability to communicate (some would say the compulsion to communicate), the same ability He must possess, too. It is illogical for the Creator not to have traits possessed by His creatures; therefore, He must be able to communicate with us.

It is also illogical to claim the Deity possesses the ability to communicate, but instead chose to remain silent. The obvious conclusion is this: it is most likely that the Creator of the Universe is a personal Being who has the ability to communicate and actively does so with the creatures He made.

# # #

(These “Merry Catholic” essays are featured on WJMJ, 88.9 FM, the radio station for the Archdiocese of Hartford, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than the price of a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

AND DON’T FORGET, THERE ARE LOTS OF OTHER EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A dramatic and plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

Luckily the leak was not on the top of the mattress, which allowed my wife and me to avoid that annoying situation where you wake up in the morning only to find yourself at the bottom of the deep end of a swimming pool. (I hate when that happens!)

Or the even more annoying situation of re-enacting at 3 a.m. the famous Three Stooges episode where they’re out fishing in a small rowboat, and the boat springs a leak, so Curly decides to drill some holes in the bottom of the boat to let the water out. (In the Dunn Family Players’ version of that episode I would’ve played the part of Curly because I do a killer “Hey Moe! Nyuk, nyuk!!” My wife is very versatile and would’ve done a fine job playing both the Moe and Larry roles.)

The leak was somewhere on the bottom of the mattress, so we stayed dry as water kind of oozed up around the edges, between the sides of the mattress and the plastic-lined frame. Now I know why the Far Out Groovy Waterbed Company of Reefer, Calif., insisted on selling us a frame with a plastic liner. Without it I’d still be trying to Shop-Vac about a zillion gallons of water off the bedroom floor.

Having a waterbed all these years has been the last vestige of our old 1970s lifestyle. Ah yes, the ‘70s, the Era that Common Sense Forgot. The ‘70s gave us mood rings, pet rocks, disco music, leisure suits, Jimmy Carter, and the Far Out Groovy Waterbed Company of Reefer, Calif.

Now that our waterbed mattress was as dead as a pet rock, my wife and I debated whether we should purchase a normal bed and make a final break with the 1970s (not counting my extensive collection of 8-track tapes, which I’ll never give up, even though I haven’t owned an 8-track player since the yellow ’74 AMC Gremlin gave up the ghost many years ago).

We began to shop around at various bed retail outlets, and now I know why mattress store commercials make up approximately 150-percent of all television ads. (Actually, it’s really only 100-percent, but that ubiquitous “Come on down!” guy makes it seem like 150-percent.) The reason a local bedding store can afford to spend more on TV ads than the entire Anheuser-Busch corporation is because they charge an arm and a leg for their products.

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I’m not an expert, but just because you put the term “o-pedic” at the end of a name, doesn’t mean you can charge two grand for what is essentially a foam rectangle.

I considered looking way before the 1970s, maybe back to, say, the 16th century, when people would fill a burlap sack with hay, and voilà! a bed! But on further reflection, my wife is allergic to hay and my back ain’t exactly 20 years old anymore, so we decided comfort was also kind of important.

We ended up staying with the 1970s, and purchased a replacement waterbed mattress. However, since it is no longer the ‘70s, the firm is now called: FarOutGroovyWaterbed.com. And to prove this is definitely not the 1970s’ economy, they recently moved their customer service center from Reefer, Calif. to Bangalore, India.

But the new mattress is still far out and groovy! Now, if I could only remember what those words are suppose to mean.

# # #

(The humor column “A Matter of Laugh or Death” appeared weekly for 24 years in the Republican-American newspaper, Waterbury, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

HERE ARE MORE EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

In the 4th grade, I fell in love with the Bic Cristal pen. I’m sure you know which pen I mean. Over 120 billion Bic Cristals have been sold since it was first introduced in 1950, and currently it sells at a rate of approximately 60 pens per second. I suspect if they take me out of the equation, it would be more like 57 per second. Even though I now own enough pens to meet my writing needs for the next 412 years, I’m compelled to purchase some Cristals pretty much every time I see them on display in a store. (Hey, don’t judge. At least I don’t make impulse buys of Rolexes and BMWs.)

The Cristal has a clear plastic, hexagonal barrel, and six decades ago it fit perfectly in my little left hand. Now, even though my hand is presumably a bit larger than it was when I was age nine, the pen still fits perfectly. (I’m reasonably sure my hand has grown since 1966, although I’ve never taken any measurements, so you never know.)

My go-to is the standard blue Cristal for my note-taking and rough-drafting, along with a red Cristal nearby for edits and margin notes. If I have these two pens and a couple of new spiral notebooks, I’m all set for the entire weekend. I’m not promising that I’ll produce any profound prose (this essay being Exhibit A), but I will have a good time.

Mind you, I’m not a Cristal-or-nothing kind of guy. Occasionally, I’ll change things up and use a gel pen for a while. My favorites are the Sharpie S-Gel and Pilot G-2. But I always come back to the Bic Cristal. It feels the best in my hand. Not bad for something that costs around 15 cents each if you buy a 10-pack, or way less than half-a-buck, if purchased one at a time.

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My attraction to things that are high-quality, reliable, and affordable carries over to wristwatches, too. Sure, I wouldn’t mind owning a Rolex, but having a watch that is worth more than my car would not only feel weird, it would make me worry too much. What if I lose it? What if it gets stolen? What if I can no longer afford to make the mortgage payments on it?

I much prefer the peace of mind that comes with a wristwatch that is accurate, rugged, multi-functional, has a battery that lasts well over five years, and costs exactly 36 dollars. By now I’m sure you’ve figured out that I am talking about the good ol’ Timex Ironman Triathlon digital watch. You can’t beat it. It has everything: time, day, month, date, stopwatch, timer, and three different alarms. It is water resistant down to 100 meters below the surface. Admittedly, this is about 97-1/2 meters more than the deep end of our complex’s swimming pool, but you never know when someone might invite me on a deep sea diving expedition. In that same vein, I have yet to be asked to enter an Ironman Triathlon competition, but again, you never know. If it happens, it’s comforting to know my watch is made for just such an occasion (even if I’m not).

Just as with pens, I’m not a Timex-or-nothing guy. Besides my three Timexes (four, if you count the one with a dead battery), I also own a couple of Casios, just for fun. They also fit the H-Q, R & A requirements.

Based on the large smudge of blue ink that now adorns the outside edge of my left hand, I’d say this essay is just about done. And according to my Timex Ironman watch, I’ve been writing for 54 minutes. No profound prose here, but it’s really not a bad way to spend an hour, especially with a baseball game on TV in the background. Like I said, I’m a simple guy.

# # #

(The humor column “A Matter of Laugh or Death” appeared weekly for 24 years in the Republican-American newspaper, Waterbury, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than the price of a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

HERE ARE OTHER EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

In other words, is there a divine, supernatural Being who designed and created the Universe — and us in it — for a specific purpose? Or is our existence merely the result of matter and energy, shaped by blind random chance, which means Mankind created a fictitious concept called God?

The way we answer this important question will have a big impact on our lives. Not only will it guide how we live during our time here on earth, but it also will determine if we will experience anything after our mortal lives are over.

When I was in high school in the 1970s, our biology teacher matter-of-factly taught us modern science had proven that life on earth had emerged by accident. It was all a random fluke, he explained, the result of purely natural processes devoid of any plan or purpose. This teacher never said out loud, “Therefore, there is no God.” But he didn’t have to. We got the message.

This teacher went on to explain that all the important people in our society — scientists, professors, writers, journalists, movie stars, rock musicians, etc. — believed what he was teaching us. I concluded he must be right, and I quickly embraced his naturalistic doctrines. I didn’t realize I had answered that most important question mentioned in the first sentence of this essay. As a teenager, I had in fact become an atheist, convinced that “Mankind created God.”

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The question for us is this: was my high school biology teacher correct? Has modern science proven that life on earth emerged by accident, via purely natural processes without any plan or purpose?

Many people answer, “Yes.” After all, modern science has debunked many old-fashioned religious beliefs, such as:

• The earth was created 6,000 years ago

• The earth is the center of the Universe and the sun revolves around it

• Storms and plagues and earthquakes are sent by God

• People’s illnesses are punishment from God

There is no doubt modern science has discovered a great deal about the natural world, biology, and medicine during the past few centuries. Soon after Charles Darwin published On the Origin of Species in 1859, many people declared that a natural explanation for our existence had been discovered. Therefore, all the old religious stories about a divine Creator were actually silly myths. The most important question had been answered: Mankind created God, not the other way around. Our scientifically illiterate ancestors, it was explained, invented a concept called God to explain away all their questions and fears. In the modern age of Enlightenment, however, people finally knew better. Swirling molecules accidentally formed themselves into living organisms eons ago, and since that time Natural Selection, driven by genetic mutation, has produced all the species we now observe on our planet. All without a plan. All without a purpose. All without any outside supernatural guidance.

Over a century after Darwin, my high school biology teacher’s understanding of life on earth had not changed much since the late 1800s. And that’s the message he proclaimed to us in class.

However, is that the full story? Did Darwin’s hypothesis quickly turn into a proven scientific fact? I respectfully answer, “No.”

It wasn’t until the 1950s that the building blocks of biological life were discovered: DNA molecules. In the years just after Darwin, modern scientists assumed living cells were simple blobs of protoplasm with interesting “self-organizing properties.”

Not until Drs. Watson and Crick discovered the double helix structure of DNA, did scientists come to understand that a living cell is a veritable city of highly organized and highly interconnected processes. DNA is the blueprint, the instructions for forming the complex components needed to keep a cell alive. What DNA most resembles is computer code: long strings of precise data that instruct the organism how to operate, in the same way computer code instructs a computer how to operate.

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The more we learn about the complexity of biological life, the more ridiculous the claim becomes that swirling molecules accidentally formed themselves into living organisms eons ago. The number of precise occurrences needed to happen at the exact same moment to form a single protein defies all odds. The claim that a living organism came into existence one day by random accident is, to put it bluntly, mathematically impossible. The odds are zero.

Think of it this way: imagine that someone with no musical training sits down at a piano for the first time ever, and by randomly hitting keys proceeds to play every note of “Rhapsody in Blue” perfectly. Impossible? Of course it is. And the odds of swirling chemicals randomly forming into a living organism are even more unlikely than our fictitious musical prodigy’s performance.

So, let’s take a look at the title of this essay: Which Is More Likely? Is it more likely that swirling molecules accidentally, randomly formed themselves into the most complex structure known to Mankind without any outside help? Or is it more likely that a super-intelligent Mind, a Being with the ability to design and create, formed living organisms for a special purpose?

Everyone must answer this question; it is the “most important” question in the world. I don’t know about you, but for me the idea that an Intelligent Mind is behind all the complexity we see here on earth is the much more likely answer.

# # #

(These “Merry Catholic” essays are featured on WJMJ, 88.9 FM, the radio station for the Archdiocese of Hartford, CT.)

**ANNOUNCING A BRAND NEW BOOK, AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE**

THE MERRY CATHOLIC! Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Guy

Click here to download your copy!
Only $5.99!! Less than the price of a coffee and a donut!

This book is a collection of 100 favorite “Merry Catholic” essays.
Always reverent toward Church doctrines and irreverent toward human foibles.

# # #

AND DON’T FORGET, THERE ARE LOTS OF OTHER EXCITING READING OPTIONS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON KINDLE. Click the links:

A Matter of Laugh of Death (Parenthetical Comments from the Back Row)
A collection of published humor columns.

The Gospel According to Morty - And Other Merry Musings on Faith
A collection of faith essays, including the popular short story: “A Connecticut Yankee in King Jesus’ Court.”

The Memoir of Saint Joseph - A Work of Spiritual Imagination
A dramatic and plausible tale about the life of the ‘Silent Knight’ of Bethlehem.

This is just plain silly for many reasons. First, even if tomorrow is, say, Wednesday, the screens on those handheld devices are so small, it’s just as likely the appointment will be written in for exactly 3:45 p.m. on Saturday. So the meeting gets scheduled right down to the exact minute, except that it’s off by 72 hours.

Secondly, roads and highways are so jammed these days, and with the state D.O.O.C. out in full force this time of year (Department of Orange Cones), to be on time for the meeting you’d have to leave your office before you even made the appointment. (“Margie, is the Time Machine broken again? Darn! That thing goes on the fritz more often than the photocopier!”)

And finally, being so precise about time is silly because not everyone thinks the same way. When you say “3:45 p.m.”, you probably mean 3:45 p.m. But to the other person, “3:45 p.m.” might mean, “Hmm, that’s sometime after lunch, but before I go home — unless I call in sick tomorrow.”

(Oh, another reason why it’s silly to schedule a precise 3:45 p.m. meeting to go over the Fernwald account is because there is no Fernwald account. Mr. Fernwald took his business elsewhere three weeks ago — probably because someone screwed up the time of a meeting.)

In the “olden days,” that primitive era when there was only black and white TV, people did not worry about being so precise about time. If someone said, “Let’s meet at 3:45 p.m.”, the immediate reply was, “What are you talking about? No one says ‘3:45’ since they haven’t invented digital watches yet. You mean to say, ‘Let’s meet at quarter to four,’ in which case, what are you talking about? We’re never that precise because this is the ‘olden days.’ You should say, ‘Let’s meet in the late afternoon.’”

And of course, by the time this was all straightened out it was early evening, and they had missed the meeting, which was fine because Mr. Fernwald took his business elsewhere three weeks ago anyway. But nobody got an ulcer about it since it was the stress-free “olden days.”

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In the really old “olden days,” the era so primitive the only thing to watch was black and white radio, there pretty much were only two times: “day” and “night.” If someone said, “Let’s meet tomorrow at ‘day:45’ to go over the Fernwald account,” the immediate reply was, “What are you talking about? They haven’t invented digital sundials yet.” Then everyone would drag the guy to the village square and burn him at the stake for being a sorcerer — or at least a nonconformist — which was fine because Mr. Fernwald took his business elsewhere 21 moons ago anyway.

I’d like to be less precise about time. Doing so probably would reduce my stress level and prevent an ulcer (which right now is scheduled to appear in my stomach at exactly 3:45 p.m. next Tuesday). I think I’ll use no more than four different designations for time: morning, noonish, afternoon, and evening.

That’s about as accurate as I ever am anyway, what with tiny handheld screens, the state D.O.O.C., and Time Machines on the fritz again. If someone calls me and says, “Let’s meet tomorrow at 3:45 p.m.”, I’ll confirm the appointment by saying, “Yeah, afternoonish sounds good.” (Unless it’s Mr. Fernwald giving us another chance. For him I’ll be at his office at EXACTLY 3:45 p.m.)

* This column was first published two months after the Apple iPhone was introduced back in 2007. At the time, BlackBerry devices dominated the business world. But BlackBerry executives dismissed the iPhone’s touchscreen as a battery-draining fad, certain that professionals would never give up physical keyboards on their phones. Oops. Bad call, fellas. Now BlackBerry joins Blockbuster Video and Jedediah’s Buggy Whip Emporium on the long list of companies that failed to adapt to changing technology.

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(The humor column “A Matter of Laugh or Death” appeared weekly for 24 years in the Republican-American newspaper, Waterbury, CT.)

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