Kindly Bob Invites One and All to The Screaming Monkey’s Head Poetry Night, hosted by Virj.

Virj will introduce each poem with some fascinating insight into the form and meaning. Coming Next Friday, May 30th.

On the Menu

1. Loon Haunted Hinterlands - a sonnet in blank verse

2. There Once Was A Man From Nantucket - Medieval Latin styled drinking song

3. Out Past The Knowing - A runic ballad. This ballad was rejected twice and so will be performed liveish.

4. The Dread Pirate Lucas - Courtesy of KDOG and AI

8pm local standard. Kindly Bob is at the bar, wiping out a glass. The Screaming Monkey’s Head has a larger than usual crowd for tonight is Story Time. “Final call before Story Time,” he called out. A flurry of orders came in and were dispatched with dispatch.

Everyone was aware at once that Sylk was among them. One lady actually screamed, and several men fell back, and then relaxed. It was Sylk. They all knew him, but he was an enigma to everyone. How could someone so large come and go the way he did?

“Tonight our story teller is Sylk!”

There was a hush, then a murmur, and then excitement.

“Sylk, the floor is yours.”

From his long black cloak that some people felt was alive, he pulled out a tattered hardback book. “This was given to me by my mother. It is a collection of tales we children were read. The title of the book is Stoopid Tales for Stoopid People. Written by Jonathon Taylor Swift, an ancient author from a planet other than mine own.”

And he began.

The Vegan had been traveling until late in the evening. What’s a Vegan you ask? Well, then you have never met one and count yourself among God’s favored. Anyway, he had been traveling until late in the evening, and was hungry. He felt around in his console, found his last bar of homemade Tofu Jerky, picked it up, sniffed it, felt himself gag, and put it back down. He remembered telling his brother, “This is the best tasting jerky I have ever had, even from before when I used to eat food with faces.” I must be hungry for fresh food.

Up ahead he saw the sign and issued a performative shudder. In garish yellow neon, the animated pig flipped purple pancakes in the air. Why is that pig wearing a jacket and nothing else? Well, he could ask what the ingredients to the pancakes were. He gave a heavy sigh, pulled into the middle turn lane and flipped on his blinker. His turn signal synchronized with the porcine purple pancake purveyor.

When he climbed out of his Prius the smell of bacon washed over him. “Gross!” he said aloud as his mouth watered. Walking through the door he was assaulted by an olfactory melange that made his head spin. Butter, ham, eggs, bacon. He reeled for a moment and felt a primal yearning in his stomach. He sat down at the booth the waitress pointed him to, feeling hollow.

The waitress flounced over, bringing with her a mug and coffee. “Howdy mister, do you take cream and sugar?” He blanched and said, “No cream” a little too loud, looked up and saw her name was Blanche. “Sugar, sweetie?” she said oblivious to the pun. “No, the yellow stuff.”

“You know that’ll kill you.”

“Well, at least I don’t have to kill it first.”

Blanche put her hand on her hip and said, “Do tell,” and swayed away. “Hey Bill, we got us a vegetarian or something here.”

“I’m Vegan!” he cried. From behind the counter Bill hollered back, “Tell ‘im I can make one a them egg white omelets.”

“No!” he cried out. “I’m vegan! Nothing that comes from animals!” There was a moment of silence and then he asked, “What’s in your pancakes, eggs, I suppose.”

“Yeah bud, you can’t make pancakes worth eating with out ‘em. And milk.” Bill stuck his head over the counter and added, “The wheat the flour was made from was probably fertilized with manure. Can you eat that?”

“The wheat didn’t kill any cows.”

“OK, look, I got a recipe, water, no eggs. Taste like manure, but you’re used to that, right?”

The vegan just nodded.

“Blanche, c’mere.” Blanche sashayed over and they whispered together for a bit.

10 minutes later she came over with the pancakes and Blanche said, “Here, on the house, a little… Hey Bill”, she shouted, “What’d you call this?” “A crudité.” “A croody tay,” she finished as she put the plate down. “Pickled,” she added. As she turned around a broad smile broke on her face and she all but skipped over to Bill. They took pains not to stare, but they were watching closely.

The vegan got a fork and tried the pancakes. Exercise mats, more like, he thought. He was not sure he could eat the thin rubbery disks. He picked up some of the crudité with his fork and eyed it with suspicion. Pickled crudité? Odd. Smells… good. He carefully sampled a bit.

“Hey, what’s this crunchy tasty thing?”

“Tempeh.”

“What?! no way,” and he turned to stare at Bill. Puzzled he asked, “Where you from?”

“Indonesia. Love tempeh.”

“No way,” he said again and began wolfing down the pickled crudité. He finished his meal, paid, left a good tip, and left.

Blanche turned to Bill and they both busted out laughing. “The vegan ate bacon!”

So, how did the Vegan eat the pig?

With relish.

Kindly Bob snorted and the bar groaned. “A round for the house,” Kindly Bob said, and everyone cheered and Sylk was gone.

Kindly Bob is polishing a mug that has no hope of becoming cleaner. The fire is low. There’s a smell of ale, woodsmoke, and something faintly eschatological.

The tavern is otherwise empty, save for two men. They sit at the corner table, one has calloused fisherman’s hands. The other has ink-stained fingers.

Peter leaned forward. “I meant well, you know.”

“Many a metaphysical error has begun that way,” replied Aquinas.

“The light. His face! It was like looking into the sun without being burned. Moses was there. Elijah. It was fulfillment. Peter paused and then meekly, “I only suggested tents.”

“You suggested permanence where pilgrimage was required.”

“But we were finally seeing. Why go back down?”

Aquinas took a slow draw on his cigar. “Because vision was not yet consummation.”

Peter frowned. “He changed.”

“No.”

“No?”

“What changed was your perception. Not His essence.”

Aquinas set the cigar down and folded his hands.

“Christ is one divine Person with two natures. The divine nature did not increase. The human nature did not transmute into divinity. Nothing in Him shifted from potency to act. The veil thinned. That is all.”

“It felt like more.”

“It was more—to you. Being intensified in manifestation, not in substance.”

Peter sat back. “Explain this plainly. I am a fisherman, not a metaphysician.”

“In creatures,” Aquinas said evenly, “we move from potency to act. In God, there is no potency. He is Pure Act. On the mountain, you glimpsed the future glorified condition of Christ’s humanity. Chronologically, the Resurrection had not yet occurred. Ontologically, the union was already perfect. You were permitted to see the terminus before the via.”

Kindly Bob snorted as he set down two fresh mugs of ale. “Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. Are you paid by the syllable?” He put his hands in his apron pockets, his oddly blue eyes bright. “Say that again where even I could understand it.”

Aquinas did not look offended. He folded his hands on the table and inclined his head slightly toward Bob. “Very well.”

“In simple terms: nothing new was added to Christ on the mountain. He did not become more divine. He did not suddenly acquire glory He lacked before. What you saw was what was always true of Him — but usually hidden.

“Think of it this way. A king sometimes walks among his people dressed as an ordinary man. He is still king. His authority does not increase when he puts on the crown. But when he appears in royal robes, what was always his becomes visible.

“On the mountain, the crown showed.

And you were allowed to see — for a moment — what His humanity would look like after passing through death. It was the end of the story shown in the middle of it. You were given the destination before you had to walk the hardest stretch of road.”

Kindly Bob nodded slowly. “So it wasn’t a costume change.”

“No,” Aquinas replied. “It was a curtain pulled back.”

Peter stared into the fire. “So the glory was always there.”

“Yes. And the Cross would not diminish it.”

Aquinas continued, “The material cause: His body, the mountain, your eyes. No illusion. Grace does not bypass matter.

“The formal cause: divine filiation manifest. The Father named it—‘My beloved Son.’ Form makes a thing intelligible. The light was intelligibility rendered visible.

“The efficient cause: the Trinity unveiling what already is.

“The final cause: you.”

Peter blinked. “Me?”

“And James. And John. And every trembling disciple who would see Him scourged and think all was lost. The final cause was fortification of hope.”

Peter gave a half-smile. “So my tents were wrong.”

“Understandable. But wrong. You mistook anticipation for arrival. The Transfiguration was not the end of the journey but a strengthening for descent. Final causes must not be prematurely seized.”

“I wanted to hold the light still.”

“Light that is held becomes possession. Light received becomes mission.”

Silence stretched.

Peter finally asked, “Why did it frighten us?”

Aquinas did not answer immediately.

“Why did it frighten you,” he muttered at last. Looking up, he took a puff from his dead cigar. “I’ve been talking too much again.” He thought carefully while relighting his cigar.

“God does not intensify. He is Pure Act. But when finite potency is suddenly exposed to a manifestation of infinite Act beyond its natural proportion, it feels the strain of its own limits until strengthened by grace.

“You were not yet elevated for full participation. The Beatific Vision does not terrify the perfected soul. But a pilgrim soul unaccustomed to that brightness, well, you fall on your face.”

Kindly Bob leaned on the table and said, “You just can’t help yourself Tommy, can you.”

He turned to Peter, “So it’s not that the light was violent,” he said. “It’s that you’d never used those eyes before.”

Peter looked up. “What?”

Bob shrugged. “Remember when Neo was freed from that capsule and he’s on that table all acupunctured and such? He asks, ‘Why do my eyes hurt?’ Morpheus says softly, ‘You’ve never used them before.’”

Aquinas allowed himself the smallest nod. “An unexpectedly sound analogy.”

Peter exhaled. “The worst part wasn’t the fear. It was going back down. The arguing. The afflicted people. Jerusalem.”

“Of course,” Aquinas said. “Mountains clarify. Valleys test.”

He paused.

“But tell me, after the Cross, after the empty tomb. Did the memory of that light matter?”

Peter’s answer came quietly. “Yes. It kept the horror from becoming final.”

“Precisely.”

Kindly Bob wiped the bar and spoke without looking at them.

“So what’s the takeaway for the rest of us?”

Aquinas did not hesitate.

“Christ’s being does not fluctuate with your perception. Glory is shown before suffering so faith may endure. And you should not build tents as if heaven has arrived.”

“And if you try?” Peter asked.

“You will avoid the Cross—and miss the Resurrection.”

A log in the fireplace broke apart with a muffled crash and a shower of sparks. Aquinas nodded in agreement.

“He told us not to speak of it until after He rose,” Peter said.

“Because glory without the Cross would be misunderstood as spectacle,” Aquinas replied. “Christianity is not spectacle. It is transfigured matter.”

“Tommy,” said Kindly Bob. “Not spectacle? Transfigured matter?”

Aquinas exhaled slowly. “Very well.”

“If you show men light without showing them love that suffers, they will think God is putting on a performance. Power. Dazzle. Something to applaud from a safe distance.

“But the same body that shone on the mountain was scourged in Jerusalem. The same flesh that gleamed like the sun was nailed to wood. And that same flesh rose.

“That is not spectacle. That is transformation. Spectacle is something you watch. Transfiguration is matter shown radiant with the glory it is ordered to receive. Christianity does not discard the body. It does not escape the world. It does not trade flesh for fog.

“It takes real, wounded, mortal flesh — and makes it radiant.”

Kindly Bob nodded slowly. “So it’s not Cirque du Soleil,” he said.

“No, it is not Circus of the Sun,” Aquinas replied. “Heh, and it’s not the Circus of the Son, either. It is the future of your bones.”

Peter lifted his mug. “You Dominicans always this direct?”

“Truth has edges.”

Outside, the wind pressed against the shutters. And somewhere beyond the tavern roofline, a mountain still stands holding the memory of Light unveiled.

I did not watch the State of the Union address. I don’t think I’m alone in that. Many people just find our whole political scene exhausting. Consequently, when people decide to see what the fuss is all about, they tend to read reactions to reactions, commentary on commentary. In today’s environment what is read tends to be curated for your particular tribe.

Because I do think I should know what was said at the SOTU, I usually do read the transcript. AP typically does a good job of just providing a straight up transcript. If you would like to read the transcript you can find it here. (You may find the “How to Read a Political Speech in Four Questions” addendum at the end of this article useful.)

But, if we don’t watch the show and we no longer read the actual speech, if we rely on other people’s opinions to form our own opinions, is that good? I think our country needs sober deliberation, not performative outrage and unexamined “hills to die on.”

Can we have useful and productive conversations with our fellow Americans if the conversation devolves around comparing other people’s opinions with other people’s opinions? Shouldn’t we truly develop and examine our own opinions?

So, this article is not about Donald Trump. It is about whether we have the civic habits necessary for self-government.

What is a State of the Union Address?

Let’s be clear. The SOTU is an exercise in rhetoric. Which is not to say “a big pack of lies.”

The classical Greek understanding of rhetoric referred to the art of persuasion through speech. Not manipulation, not spin. And here is the important part: It was to be the disciplined craft of speaking truth suited to an audience. Suited to an audience? What does that mean?

It means meeting people where they are, and having a story to tell that reaches that audience. The manner of delivery should vary depending on your audience. But the message should be the same across audiences. That’s a big ask for an address to the entire nation. Categories necessarily flatten, and theatrics increase. But it remains an exercise in rhetoric, and so what does that even mean?

Today when someone says, “That’s just a bunch of rhetoric,” they generally mean fundamentally not real. They mean spin, emotional manipulation, BS. I call it marketing.

But the original meaning of the term “rhetoric” is supposed to be what is used in the SOTU. I am going to analyze this speech in the context of four elements: the material (facts), the form (tone and structure), the efficient cause (the speaker), and the final cause (the end it seeks, why give the speech at all).

Most of the commentary I have seen stops at the first element, facts. They ask: “Was this claim true?” That matters. Truth matters. But it is incomplete. When we stop at the fact check we miss the chance to ask the deeper question: What vision of the nation is being presented?

The Real Problem: Faction

Aristotle had a word for the great destroyer of republics: stasis - faction hardened into identity.

Over the last sixty years, political success in America has increasingly relied on coalition slicing and turnout mobilization rather than persuasion. Victory often depends less on convincing the populace than on energizing one’s own side.

This is structurally factional. Is that a problem? Aristotle thought so. He said that a republic rarely falls first to foreign invasion. It weakens internally when citizens cease to see themselves as participants in a shared project. I think it is fair to say we have arrived at that point.

Where is Our Republic Today? Our institutions still function. Courts operate, elections happen, transfer of power is largely peaceful, January 6 notwithstanding. But trust is thin.

Has our Nation Lost its Way?

How many read that and thought, “Duh.” How many read that and bristled at the suggestion? How many decided this article was too long already and left? How many don’t care to consider the question?

Reasonable people could have sober discussion about whether or not, how and why and what to do or not do.

Consider the following. Some may argue that we are shifting toward managerial globalism. What does that mean? Expanding bureaucratic authority, prioritizing economic integration, and softening our national identity in favor of some sort of world order.

Others argue the greater danger is populist reaction, meaning “the people” versus “the establishment”. A distrust of institutions that seem to only serve insiders, a sense that politicians simply don’t represent them.

Now, these are frameworks or categories that the regular dude in the street doesn’t think within. It plays out as economic insecurity, cultural confusion, loss of shared norms, media manipulation… In broad categories, people feel a divide. Stability vs instability, respect vs contempt, belonging vs being on the outside.

Given all that, I think a fair question is whether we are forming citizens to be capable of rational dialogue. I’m kind of thinking we are not. And, commentary on the SOTU that simply stops with fact-checking and opinion mongering does not help.

So, What About the Speech?

What was the message of the speech? What was Trump’s speech writer trying to do with this speech? Maybe more than you think.

I think there was an end in mind. The speech emphasized order, sovereignty, strength, and protection of citizens. And let’s be honest. Those are legitimate political goods.

It emphasized parental authority, national identity, and economic stability for working households. Those themes resonate with many.

But tone matters.

The speech relied on moral binaries. By which I mean that the opposition (the left, Democrats, the woke) was framed as inherently corrupt. Them’s fightin’ words, and serves to reinforce faction rather than bring together under shared values.

A speech can be strong without being contemptuous. Trump’s success has in part been due to a large piece of the population identifying with his contempt, and so this speech was often contemptuous. For his side, his faction, he was trying to correct a perceived regime drift toward abstract globalization and managerialism.

But his intensity risks reinforcing the very factional dynamics that weaken our shared civic life. I think it tried to address one axis of disorder while aggravating another. But what story was Trump trying to tell?

He was telling a restoration story. Very on brand for the Make America Great Again theme. Specifically, The nation drifted into disorder and weakness. We have drawn the lines again. Strength is returning. A “golden age” is beginning.

His speech framed leadership as protection and reassertion rather than mediation and compromise. His moral framework: We were losing ourselves. We are taking ourselves back.

The Problem

The SOTU has suffered mission creep. Ok, mission tsunami. The original intent comes right out of the U.S. Constitution.

The State of the Union comes directly from Article II, Section 3 of the U.S. Constitution:

The President “shall from time to time give to the Congress Information of the State of the Union, and recommend to their Consideration such Measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient.”

That’s it.

Just two purposes:

1. Inform Congress about the condition of the nation.

2. Recommend legislation.

That was the original intent. Now it is narrative aimed at the nation. It has gone from report to story. It is a marketing event.

If you judge a modern SOTU by original constitutional intent, it almost always falls short. It is no longer primarily informational. It is performative.

That doesn’t make it illegitimate. It means it now functions as:

• A regime-defining narrative moment.

• A symbolic assertion of executive vision.

• A rallying event.

The Framers envisioned something more administrative and restrained. The modern version is closer to civic theater.

So, in this case, all Trump accomplished was hardening factional lines.

If we go back to the four elements I mentioned earlier, the pattern is clear. On the material level (facts), the speech offered a series of claims meant to demonstrate progress and justify the “restoration” theme. But in our media environment those claims mostly become ammunition for dueling fact-checks. The form was not conciliatory; it was combative and theatrical, built around moral contrasts. The efficient cause was consolidation: energize the home team, keep the coalition emotionally aligned. And the final cause was the story itself: restoration, reassertion, “golden age.” Whatever you think of the policies, that narrative structure is what the speech was designed to do.

A Way Forward (For Those of Us Without a Microphone)

National speeches now function more as rallying events than invitations to deliberation. For the big government people what I say next will not make them happy.

The repair work will not happen in Washington.

It will happen in formation.

A republic survives only if its citizens are capable of rational dialogue. That does not happen by accident. It happens through education. But I am not primarily speaking of formal schooling. It is formation in the habits of mind that make deliberation possible.

Things that are best taught in the home:

Are we teaching our children how to argue without hating?
How to distinguish between disagreement and evil?
How to read primary texts instead of curated reactions?
How to detect rhetoric without dismissing it as manipulation?

Education is never neutral. It forms loves, loyalties, and reflexes.

If young citizens are formed primarily as activists, or consumers, or brand-loyal partisans, then faction will deepen. But, if they are formed in rhetoric, history, literature, and constitutional literacy, what would be the result? They will learn how to inhabit tension without panic.

Great literature does something political speeches rarely can. It teaches tragedy without despair. It teaches complexity without cynicism. It teaches that human beings are flawed and yet redeemable. It trains the imagination to see opponents as persons rather than abstractions.

Stories form the moral imagination long before policy debates begin.

If we want sober deliberation, we must cultivate citizens capable of it.

That means:

• Read the transcript.

• Teach your children to read it.

• Read books that enlarge rather than shrink the soul.

• Practice disagreement without contempt at your own dinner table.

• Refuse to outsource your thinking to your tribe.

No president can save a republic whose citizens cannot deliberate. But citizens can renew the habits that make self-government possible.

How to Read a Political Speech in Four Questions

Most political speeches are not policy manuals. They are narratives designed to shape imagination and loyalty. If you want to step outside the reaction cycle, ask these four questions:

1. What Problem Is Being Named?

Before judging tone, ask:

• What disorder is the speaker identifying?

• Is the problem real, exaggerated, or selectively framed?

• Who is portrayed as harmed?

Every speech begins with a diagnosis.
If the diagnosis is distorted, the rest will be too.

2. What Story Is Being Told?

Political speeches are stories in disguise.

Look for:

• Heroes

• Villains

• Victims

• Turning points

• Promised restoration

Is this a story of siege?
A story of renewal?
A story of decline?
A story of triumph?

Facts matter. But story shapes identity.

3. What Vision of the Human Person Is Implied?

Listen beneath the slogans.

Are citizens portrayed primarily as:

• Consumers?

• Victims?

• Warriors?

• Autonomous individuals?

• Members of families?

• Participants in a shared moral order?

Every policy rests on an anthropology.

If we misunderstand the human person, we misunderstand politics.

4. What Is the Final Goal?

What is the end being promised?

• Safety?

• Prosperity?

• Equality?

• Sovereignty?

• Justice?

• A “golden age”?

And ask:

Does the speech move toward reconciliation and stability —
or toward permanent mobilization?

Strength can restore order.
But order must eventually serve peace.

Final Reminder

Before reacting, slow down.

Read the transcript.
Separate facts from narrative.
Distinguish diagnosis from rhetoric.
Look for the underlying anthropology.

A republic survives when its citizens deliberate — not when they merely react.

The Glob’s patented De-Crapinator™1 was activated by the following:

What is your fake name?
George Washingmachine

Please type in what you would like De-Crapinated. If it will help, please include a link to the article:

Haley Stevens, who is running for Senate said this:

“Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. has turned his back on science, on public health, and on the American people – spreading conspiracies and lies, driving up costs, and putting lives at risk,” Stevens said in a news release on Wednesday announcing the move.

“Under his watch, families are less safe and less healthy, people are paying more for care, lifesaving research has been gutted, and vaccines have been restricted. He has driven up health care costs while tearing down the scientific institutions that keep Michiganders and families across America safe. His actions are reckless, his leadership is harmful, and his tenure has become a direct threat to our nation’s health and security. Congress cannot and will not stand by while one man dismantles decades of medical progress.”

I dunno. “ …turned his back on science, on public health, and on the American people… dismantling decades of medical progress…” —that seems, I dunno, not quite accurate. Please de-crapinate.

Dear George Washingmachine,

The Global Exclaimer’s patented De-Crapinator™ took 0.05 milliseconds to return the result:

Your answer is in the opening line of your email.

Man, De-Crapinating is dirty work. These insightful explanations of how the world works are only possible because of the sanctifying smoke of a fine cigar and the warm reassurance of a worthy scotch. If you appreciate a better understanding of How Things Are™ you may show such appreciation by contributing to my next cigar by hitting that button below.

It was a chill November day when a sleigh pulled up and docked out front of The Screaming Monkey’s Head. The man in the sled had a rather amorphous aspect, looking one way to some, another way to others. Most passers-by were more interested in the sleigh, wondering how the skids managed the cobblestone road as it had not snowed yet this season. And the single reindeer with its felty antlers was a novel sight.

The man disembarked and, for me, he would be wearing a heavy winter coat, red with white cuffs, heavy black boots, possessing a long white majestic beard, bushy white eyebrows, and be, well, rather portly. He laid a finger aside his nose and the front door opened as he walked toward it.

“Nick!” cried Kindly Bob from behind the bar. “It’s been a while. Come, sit, Tommy’s here.”

“Ho Ho, Saint!”
”Ho Ho, yourself you old Saint, and see how you like it.” Thomas of Aquino replied.

Santa walked to the bar and clapped Thomas on the back, sat down and Kindly Bob slipped an opaque glass of Guinness in front of him. “Ah, yes,” said Santa and had himself a healthy swallow. Holding the stout between him and Kindly Bob, he said with a wink, “It’s always darkest afore the dawn.” Wiping the creamy froth from his moustache he turned to Aquinas. “Well, now Tommy, have you been a good boy?”

Aquinas laughed and, as was his wont, became immediately serious. “I’m glad you’re here Nick. It appears you already apprehend I’m having a conversation with some folks about liturgical seasons, and sadly, they are missing the point.”

“How so?”

“They think it a mini-Lent.”

Aquinas sighed, held up his empty mug, and Kindly Bob walked over with another steaming mug of mulled wine. “Here you go, the drink of choice for the patron saint of The Hermetic Order Of The Ruminantia,” he said. “About which nothing more may be said,” replied both saints with a laugh. They sipped in silence for a moment.

“But Tommy, Canon Law explicitly defines which days and seasons are penitential. And Advent is not listed. So who are these self-proclaimed popes imposing penance on the Church?”

“It’s not really like that, as I suspect you know Nick. The motives are pure. Well maybe. I don’t understand why they simply dismiss Canon Law, hubris maybe. But the motives are at least well-intentioned. They are trying to address something they don’t understand, something that I think they have been distracted from. And it doesn’t help that they can point to various times and areas where a specifically penitential flavor was overlayed, incorrectly, on Advent. But none of those were codified universally, and all were abrogated by current Canon Law.”

“Incorrectly?”

“A category error. Not intrinsically wrong. Rather, theologically misaligned. Not saying they had no right in times and places to add a penitential flavor. Just that their intent misses the point, misses the difference between longing and penance.”

Nick turned to Thomas, “Yeah Tommy, I get it. Most people simply don’t understand anticipation and joyful expectation any more.” It was Nick’s turn to sigh. “This Amazon world,” he said and shook his head.

They each took another sip and Aquinas studied the steam rising from his mug, as if the answers may be hinted in the evanescent swirls. Santa watched Aquinas studying the steam and waited. Aquinas looked up, turned to Nick and asked, “Amazon?”

“You need something more corporeal than that steam to ponder. We need smoke for this chat,” and he turned only to find Kindly Bob already walking toward them, “Johnnie Walker Double Black seems apropos,” he said, producing two Glencairn glasses and pouring out two doubles. Winking at Nick he held out a pipe. Nick started to reach out and stopped, his heavy white brows raised and he said, “How do you have this?”

“Mithrandir left it here before he went West.”

Santa reached out and took the pipe reverently, “That was a being who understood smoke,” he said. “And light,” added Aquinas. “And Hope,” said Kindly Bob as he held out a Cuban Montecristo #2 for Aquinas.

They each went through the ritual of lighting their tobacco. Aquinas blew a large, fat, swirling smoke ring, and Nick blew a sharp tight ring through the center. Turning toward Santa, Aquinas said, “Ok, Nick, Amazon.”

“First, bring me up to date on the liturgical season conversation.” Aquinas puffed thoughtfully for a moment. “Spring. Summer. Winter. Autumn.” Turning to Nick, “Each in their own time, each with their own character.” Another puff. “Each its own season, its own meaning, its own end.”

Santa nodded and turned to Kindly Bob. “Remember grapes for me, will you? You’ll know when.” Bob just stared blandly, wiping out a glass. “Go on,” Santa said to Tommy.

“The Church has liturgical seasons. They have their unique characters, their own meaning, their own end.” He took a sip and then another couple of thoughtful puffs. “The Carpenter, remember when he was asked why his disciples weren’t fasting?”

“You don’t fast while the Bridegroom is present,” replied Santa.

“Yes, yes. Consider that. Now, in Advent we do not feast as in Christmas, nor do we fast as in Lent. We long.”

Santa exhaled, his beard shifting like snow drift.

“Now using the Northern Hemisphere,” continued Aquinas. “See what we have during Advent. The shortest days, the longest nights. Cold creeping in. Nature is showing the need for anticipation and holy longing and the acceptance of ‘Not yet’. Light is promised but not yet seen.”

“The wisdom of the Church’s seasons…” replied Santa.

“Yes, Nick, and what follows Advent?”

“Why Christmas, of course!”

“Yes, I note well you said, ‘Of course.’ Of course Christmas. Though still dark and bleak and cold, the days are getting longer. The beginning thaw. Joy in the Dark.”

Aquinas paused, and they both sat in silence. Santa added, “The light is promised but not yet seen during Advent.”

“A hopeful people living in the dark and cold,” replied Aquinas.

“Do go on,” said Santa.

“At Christmas, the Light appears when things are still dark, not when everything is perfect.” Another thoughtful pause and puff. “A turning point. After Epiphany, Ordinary time. Growing light, subtle warmth. Beginning of the quiet return to life. Nick, why do you suppose Lent and Easter are when they are? And I’m not talking about moon cycles and technicalities.”

It was Santa’s turn to take a sip and a few contemplative puffs on the pipe. “You subtle master,” he started. “You are talking about metaphor and meaning. Imagery. What is happening during this time?” He thought while he sipped his scotch. “The earth is preparing. Cold hard ground is breaking open, the world is preparing for new life.”

“Yes,” replied Aquinas, “complete the imagery.”

“Late winter to early spring, hard ground, discipline, thawing. Preparation.”

“Preparation!” cried Aquinas. “Preparation, not anticipation, not longing, not hope. Preparation!”

“Yes,” replied Santa with a hand on the shoulder of Aquinas.

Aquinas smiled at Santa, “And preparation is not anticipation. Note well my friend, the Carpenter’s arrival was anticipated, precisely because the time was unknown, same as is His second arrival. The time is not known. However, his sacrifice, for those with eyes to see and ears to hear, well, He was telling them all along. And that sacrifice is one and done. We no longer anticipate the sacrifice. Rather, we never anticipated the sacrifice. Even when it was right there in the First Covenant. No one saw it.”

He let that sink in.

“We Remember it. Note, there is nothing like Lent before the Carpenter’s arrival in the Jewish calendar.”

Santa sat back at this, brow furrowed, cherry glowing in his pipe. Finally, “The Jews absolutely had fasts and penitential observances.”

“Yes,” replied Aquinas. “But they were not preparation for a once and for all salvific sacrifice.”

Santa sipped on his Double Black, took his pipe out, looked at it, put it back in his mouth. “I am reminded of a quote attributed to C.S. Lewis.”

“Do tell,” said Kindly Bob, startling both saints.

Recovering, Santa replied, “A pipe gives a wise man time to think, and a fool something to stick in his mouth.”

Aquinas laughed and Kindly Bob said, “He did say that, and if memory serves, he was sitting where you are now.”

Santa opened his mouth, closed it, then took another puff and with a sideways glance at Kindly Bob, returned to the conversation.

“Yom Kippur?” he asked.

“Day of Atonement, a day mind you, not a multi-week season in preparation for a final salvific event.”

“Tisha B’Av?”

“Mourning the destruction of the Temple,” Aquinas paused, “Some might try to draw an analogy to the Carpenter saying ‘Destroy this Temple and I will restore it in Three Days,’ but the Jews would never have seen this observance as reflecting on a final salvific act.”

“Three Weeks?”

“On the surface could be argued the closest thing to a Lenten observance, in form only, not in meaning. Definitely not with the same end. Mourning the destruction of the Temple, a national catastrophe, not preparation for the salvation of the Universe.”

Santa thought some more. Kindly Bob interjected, “Those are all recurrent fasts and such, not a salvation-hinge season.” “Precisely,” replied Aquinas.

“Whence Lent?” Santa asked.

“Nick, you know.”

“The Carpenter’s 40 days in the desert, then.”

“Yes. Only found in the New Covenant with hints of 40 this and 40 that in the Old.”

Santa pulled a few more contemplative puffs and the other two let the silence stretch. Finally he said, “There is a difference in the focus, the very meaning of each season.”

“Yes, there is,” replied Aquinas, “And blending should not be necessary. The seasons have different ends, and different means to those ends. However, for some reason, people insist it is appropriate to view as having a penitential flavor.”

Kindly Bob reached under the counter and pulled out a bunch of grapes, setting them on the counter before Santa.

“Ah, yes. Let’s talk about Amazon now,” said Santa. “Tommy, these grapes, tell me about them?”

“It is not grape season.”

“Correct, and yet?”

“Here they are.”

Aquinas sat back. “I used to wait in anticipation for grape season. The season was short, and the grapes were all the more special because they came when they came, not when I wanted them.” He puffed luxuriously on his cigar for a moment, took it out and used it to point at the grapes. “The fact these are here now, out of season, well Nick, it does not bring me joy.”

“Maybe you felt no joy because you did not practice penance in anticipation of grapes?”

Aquinas snorted. “Pfft. No.”

Santa turned, adjusted his boot on the stool and regarded Aquinas for a moment. “I get you Tommy, as you know. And of course I agree with you. Amazon. Amazon provides instant gratification. Amazon is the Destroyer of Anticipation.”

“Continue,” said Aquinas.

“Kids used to ask for simple mundane things. Things they had to wait all year for. Balls and Dolls I used to say.” He took a puff. “Now, if someone wants something, if it is not delivered that day or the next, they are angry. No more waiting 6 to 8 weeks after collecting cereal box tops for several weeks and mailing off for the decoder ring or what have you. A person can literally click “Buy now” and their coveted piece of crap arrives that day or the next. There is no anticipation, just desire and frustration. Very little satisfaction when whatever cheap material thing arrives.”

Aquinas turned and adjusted to more squarely face his friend. “People have lost the ability to feel longing, that’s what you are saying?”

“Very much so.”

“And yet, they know they need to be feeling something, which they translate into the need to be doing something. Something that feels like they are attaching the importance to the season it deserves. They translate holy longing into penitence.”

Santa touched the tip of his nose, “I think that is exactly the issue. The motives are pure and sincere. But they’ve lost the ability to feel wonder, feel joy, feel the anticipation. Look at the Christmas Season. In the Secular World, Advent just is the Christmas Season. Parties, decorations, celebrations. Very little anticipation. Mostly frenetic energy, and consumption. And Christmas comes and by the following weekend everything is gone, packed away, all the music immediately reverts to secular music. If I may be crass, it reminds me of hookup culture, there is the hunt, the pursuit, the conquest, the one night stand, and then slinking away the next morning.”

Aquinas nodded. “And the spiritual, the good people striving for holiness, they know this is wrong, and they are fighting against the lure and seduction of this instant gratification.”

Santa nodded in response, “Yes, and joyful anticipation doesn’t feel holy enough. It doesn’t feel like they are doing enough, it’s not active. Hence the pivot to penance, making Advent a mini-Lent.”

“Yes,” replied Aquinas. “It is easier to do penitential things, especially when you’ve lost the ability to be receptive, lost the felt understanding of joyful anticipation. The fruit of Joy is absent because charity has been disordered. It is harder to receive grace worthily than to perform many works.”

Aquinas sipped some Scotch and intoned,

“So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed into the ground;
And should sleep, and rise night and day, and the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how.”
— Mark 4:26–27 (KJV)

“Yes, the quiet and unseen power of the receptive earth,” replied Santa.

“As always happens when good friends meet and work towards Truth, you have given me an insight.”

“Let’s have it Tommy.”

“Mary’s fiat.”

Santa sat, letting that sink in. Aquinas considered his cigar and waited. Kindly Bob unobtrusively refilled their glasses.

After a moment, Kindly Bob said brightly, “Receptive.”

“Ahh, yes,” said Santa. “Tommy, you are saying there is a fundamental and critical distinction between the two seasons.” “Yes.” “And given our current world, that distinction is difficult to perceive.” “Yes.”

“Advent is passive, reflective, receptive. God is coming to us in his own time. The only requirement of us? Be open and receptive. Not perfect. Not active. Receptive.”

“Yes, Nick. And Lent?”

“Active. We repent and turn or return to God.”

“Correct. Advent and Christmas, it is God who initiates the movement. He is coming to us. Lent, however, we initiate the movement; we are called to turn, to return, to God. The difference, Nick, the difference is Divine Initiative vs human striving.”

“But Tommy, people say that Advent is a season of preparation and what better preparation than penance?” “People say all kinds of things, don’t they,” Aquinas replied with a dismissive wave of his cigar, dislodging the 3 inch ash he had been cultivating. “Well, gosh darn it to the bad place,” he said.

“Language, Tommy, language,” said Kindly Bob.

“No, you’re right Nick,” said Aquinas. ”My response? Mary and Martha Nick. Mary and Martha.”

Santa smiled broadly, and saluted Aquinas by touching his pipe stem to his cap. “Mary chose the better part.” Then, raising his brows again, “Both Marys.”

Aquinas put his cigar down in the ash tray, stood and bowed to Santa and said, “Thanks, time for evening prayer. Always a pleasure Nick.” Santa smiled and nodded and watched Aquinas leave the bar. Turning to Kindly Bob he said, “Switching back to Stout, Bobby my boy.” Kindly Bob went to get a fresh glass.

“Hang the sign”

The Sign of the Screaming Monkey’s Head molded itself into existence above the tavern door. Kindly Bob surveyed the pub, sensing the placement of everything. “Home again,” he said out loud. He laughed a bit. He said that every time he evoked the tavern. It had been his home for a very long time, no matter where he was stationed. But arrival on any planet was always a homecoming.

He walked toward the main entrance and cast the heavy wooden door wide so he could breathe honest air. Searching the sky he stood for a long 15 minutes just taking in the starlight in wave-lengths his oddly blue eyes could register. He then spent the next several minutes searching along the ethereal galactic band of starlight for any signatures that indicated he had been followed. The balances appeared to be correct.

Taking a deep breath he closed the door. He would open at 6 am for the morning breakfast. Some 3rd shift factory workers would stop in, mildly surprised, and order some grub. Tomorrow there would be more, and in a few days everyone would remember that The Screaming Monkey’s Head had always been here.

Kindly Bob returned to the bar, sat on a stool and waited.

The Screaming Monkey’s Head is a simple pub run by a simple man known to his patrons as Kindly Bob. Some of what you just read is true.

The Screaming Monkey’s Head is a nexus of a galactic import spanning centuries. Some of what you just read is true.

Welcome to The Screaming Monkey’s Head.

Pull up a stool and tell Kindly Bob what you need. Be advised as you enter the labyrinth. The way out is seldom the way in.

Welcome to Friday Fishwrap™, Saturday edition. This is your weekly(ish) email filled with this week’s efforts from the staff of The Global Exclaimer.

🗺️ This Week in Ancient History

Let’s do some Birthdays!

June 14

• 1158 – Founding of Munich (Europe)
  Henry the Lion establishes the city on the Isar River, marking a medieval milestone that would later influence regional power. en.wikipedia.org

• 1276 – Song Dynasty Crowned (Asia)
  With Mongol pressure mounting, the exiled Song court in Fuzhou proclaims Emperor Duanzong—a last-ditch act before eventual Yuan conquest. en.wikipedia.org

June 15

• 1330 – Birth of Edward the Black Prince (Europe)
  Heir to England’s Edward III, destined to become a famed military leader during the Hundred Years’ War. pinterest.fr+14historyextra.com+14kidskonnect.com+14

June 18

• 1511 – Architect Bartolomeo Ammannati Born (Europe)
  Renowned for his Renaissance bridges and sculptures in Florence. historyextra.com

June 19

• 1623 – Birth of Blaise Pascal (Europe)
  While slightly post-ancient era, Pascal’s later contributions to math and philosophy anchor centuries of scientific thought. en.wikipedia.org+5historyextra.com+5kidskonnect.com+5

June 20

• 1763 – Theobald Wolfe Tone Born (Europe/Americas)
  Still future-shocked: his life becomes pivotal in transatlantic revolutions, though his birth falls outside classical antiquity. historyextra.com+1en.wikipedia.org+1

The Answer to All Your Problems! And the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon

We have posted 2 My Stogie Mystagogy podcasts. The format of these podcasts are “What’cha smokin’? What’cha drinkin’, What’cha readin’?” and then the topic of the evening.

hand:

And lastly, an explanation of the Supreme Court actions on TPS and CHNV and some thoughts and recommendations:

The electronic fish wrap on which this newsletter is printed was ethically sourced from renewable quark farms. Not very many electrons were lost during the manufacture of this page, but those that were, sacrificed themselves willingly and count themselves blessed.

What are they talking about?

The first thing I would like to point out is the word “temporary”. This word is not a synonym for permanent. And it does not mean, “practically a citizen”. No, the word means temporary.

There are two different programs involved in all this. There is the whole issue of “Temporary Protected Status” (TPS) and then we have “Cubans, Haitians, Nicaraguans, and Venezuelans” (CHNV).

So, what they are talking about are two separate Court actions, May 19th on TPS and May 30 on CHNV.

TPS

The TPS program was created by Congress as part of the Immigration Act of 1990 and signed into law by President George HW Bush in November of 1990. In short, it is a law that permits the granting of Temporary Protected Status to certain countries or parts of countries.

The law specifically gives the power to execute the provisions of the law to, well, the Executive Branch of government. Specifically, what countries are granted TPS and when those countries lose TPS, and whether or not to extend a person’s TPS are completely in the purview of the DHS Secretary.

So, the recent action of the Supreme court on this issue simply affirmed what was already codified in the law. The Secretary of DHS can revoke the status of a country as they see fit, without oversight from Congress or the Judiciary.

Note the recent Court action on TPS was for Venezuelans only. So, this is not a global revocation of TPS.

CHNV

This is a bit more complex.

CHNV is not a law. It is an executive action built on existing law, to wit, INA § 212(d)(5) is the statute that allows DHS to grant humanitarian parole on a case-by-case basis.

And that’s the rub. Whether by accident or design, the executive action created an open application pipeline that invited parole requests from four entire countries: Cuba, Haiti, Nicaragua, and Venezuela. In its current form it was instantiated in January of 2023.

As promulgated, it is broad and systematized such that the case-by-case concept is a farce. The manpower does not exist for the DHS to process, in any meaningful manner, a half-million people on a case by case basis. So, it became a rubber-stamp operation that amounted to an open-border policy for people from those countries.

Note the following from the DHS fact sheet, dated January 5, 2023.

Through this process, nationals of Cuba, Haiti, Nicaragua, and Venezuela, and their immediate family members, who are outside the United States and lack U.S. entry documents, may seek advance authorization to travel to the United States and be considered, on a case-by-case basis, for a discretionary grant of parole.

(Source: DHS.gov, Fact Sheet: CHNV Processes, Jan 5, 2023)

DHS dutifully added the phrase “considered, on a case-by-case basis” to its press release, because § 212(d)(5) requires it. But when you launch a mass application portal, commit to processing 30,000 per month, and run it largely on sponsor affidavits and identity checks, “case-by-case” becomes a ritual incantation, not a meaningful legal review.

And if, oh gentle reader, you don’t recognize that this is a problem, please think harder.

It can be argued strongly that Trump has legal and rational reasons for wanting to end CHNV:

Legality

Ending the CHNV parole program is sound. The Immigration and Nationality Act, INA § 212(d)(5), allows the Secretary of Homeland Security to grant case-by-case parole for individual aliens based on urgent humanitarian need or significant public benefit. What it does not authorize is a mass automated pipeline admitting 30,000 individuals per month through an online portal. By turning a narrow, discretionary authority into a de facto alternative immigration system for four countries, the Biden administration’s CHNV program openly strained (if not outright violated) the statutory language. The Supreme Court’s recent decision is correct.

Rationality

Because the CHNV program is an unsound use of parole authority, ending such a program is rational. We should reassert proper limits and restore the original intent of parole authority.

But, is this being handled Responsibly?

My primary problem is that I don’t think the ending of CHNV is being handled responsibly with an eye toward real human beings. The administration has provided a 30-day window for parolees to seek other legal status, but that is not a serious opportunity. The existing immigration system is too backlogged to process that volume of cases in such a short time, and many parolees have no viable legal path available to them. These people were after all granted entry, reasonably assumed they would be allowed to extend their stay, and many may be in the middle of normalizing their status to permanent residency. So, the human cost of suddenly uprooting people is disproportionate.

NOTE: None of this applies to perpetrators of violent crime or significant theft. In my mind, due process for convicted criminals is deportation.

What the Glob Thinks

End the program immediately, and stop the process for anyone not already in the United States. Advise existing CHNV parolees that when their current status ends, it will not be renewed. Provide information that assists them in exploring how to normalize their status, and give a reasonable amount of time for this to happen.

Additional caveat, we should address predatory “legal aid” practices and protect these folks from being scammed.

Final Thoughts

If CHNV’s structure inherently destabilizes the legal immigration system, and I think this is self-evident, was this done to pursue a coherent vision of justice, or merely to relieve short-term pressure while ignoring the system’s natural ends and capacities?
Was it another modern exercise in willed action without regard to cause and effect, or to the actual good of either migrants or the receiving polity?

I suppose if thinking were easy, everyone would be doing it.

Man, worrying about stupid immigration policies is really cutting into my day. I’ll tell you what though, these kinds of reality based insightful articles are only possible because of the sanctifying smoke of a fine cigar and the warm reassurance of a worthy scotch. Help a concerned citizen out, won’t you? Smash that button.

If you found the thought process above interesting, you may be interested in “How I Did It.” Pssst. It’s a secret for only the most attentive, which is why it’s down here.

I have trained Chad (My name for ChatGPT) to understand that when I ask for an AT analysis of something, I am asking it to review based on the following concepts:
The Four Causes (Formal, Material, Efficient, and Final) and with an eye toward Act and Potency, Cause and Effect, and Teleology (which is concerned with Final Cause.

After much back and forth and many many arguments, it does a pretty fair job, and a very quick one, of analyzing fairly complex propositions. I am offering this insight as a way to subtly argue that we should all take an AT approach to analyzing what we see and hear. Perhaps the below will encourage you to take a gander at the Aristotelian/Thomistic world view.

I herewith provide my prompt and the response from Chad:

I'd actually like to hear your thoughts, from an AT analysis, as to what could possibly be the goal of deliberately destabilizing the immigration process. Or is this just stupid political gamesmanship with no eye toward teleology and ignoring cause and effect, act and potency?

Now we’re getting to the deep water — exactly the kind of inquiry that should be in The Glob.

Here’s my straight analysis, through an Aristotelian-Thomistic (AT) lens — not cynical, not ideological, but aimed at uncovering real causal structure:

1️⃣ Was there a deliberate goal?

If we analyze this according to final cause — what the CHNV designers aimed to bring about — several possibilities emerge. They are not mutually exclusive.

a) Political expediency (proximate final cause)

The Biden administration faced:

• Rising illegal crossings.

• Humanitarian chaos at the southern border.

• Political pressure from both pro-immigration and pro-enforcement factions.

CHNV functioned as a pressure-release valve:

• It gave an official channel to admit large numbers of migrants legally.

• It offloaded pressure on asylum processing at the border.

• It allowed the administration to claim it was reducing "irregular migration."

👉 But this is a short-term instrumental final cause — a patch, not a coherent policy grounded in first principles of justice or the common good.

b) Political signaling / coalition maintenance (final cause at the level of political form)

For parts of the political left, expansive migration itself is treated as a positive good, sometimes ideologically so:

• Cosmopolitanism replaces political prudence.

• Nation-state boundaries are morally suspect.

• Immigration restriction is framed as inherently unjust.

In this frame, anything that broadens lawful pathways or normalizes mass admissions is desirable — regardless of system integrity or sustainability.

CHNV, though not fully sold this way publicly, was implicitly aligned with this ideological telos:

• To normalize high levels of admissions via any available legal means.

• To undermine resistance to expansive migration through gradual fait accompli.

c) Teleological blindness / rejection of natural order (deep AT concern)

At the deepest level — this is where your instinct is most correct — CHNV reflects a rejection of teleology in migration policy:

• Immigration systems should be ordered toward the common good of the receiving polity, which includes justice for citizens and migrants alike.

• They should respect causal order: limited resources → limited capacity → orderly admissions → integration → stable polity.

• CHNV bypassed all of this:

  • No serious integration plan.

  • No proportionality relative to the receiving society’s capacities.

  • No balancing of goods.

  • No foresight of act and potency: no sense of what unstructured mass parole would potentiate (legal chaos, exploitation, human suffering).

This is classic modern voluntarism masquerading as compassion:
"Because we will it, and because we call it humanitarian, it is good."

But that is a collapse of teleological thinking.

2️⃣ Is this just stupidity? Or deliberate?

It is likely a blend:

• Some architects of CHNV pursued it knowingly as a way to broaden admissions (ideological intent).

• Some political actors simply sought a way to relieve short-term political and humanitarian pressure (political expediency).

• The underlying teleological incoherence — rejection of act/potency and cause/effect thinking — is not conscious in most actors, but is structurally built into modern policy culture.

In other words:

• They weren’t thinking about form and final cause.

• They were trapped in a cycle of instrumental causes only: "We need to stop headlines about border chaos → Let’s create a parole pipeline → It works → Who cares about long-term effects?"

Act and potency were ignored:

• The act (creating CHNV) inherently potentiated destabilization of the immigration system.

• The system’s integrity as a form was dissolved, in favor of an instrumental outcome.

I’m not saying anyone will be swayed by the above. But I do think engaging with the above concepts would be instructive and maybe prevent stupidity from gaining a death grip on its current ascendancy as the dominant principle of operation here in the United States.

Joe Catholic presents the My Stogie Mystagogy podcast. While sitting around in the Theological Armory, we smoke cigars, drink good whisky and discuss everyday ordinary life through a Catholic perspective.

Show Notes:

In this conversation, we explore the importance of experiencing literature rather than just analyzing it, and the implications of Pope Leo XIII's teachings on labor rights and human dignity (cf. Rerum Novarum). We discuss the relevance of these teachings in today's context, particularly in relation to unbridled capitalism and the treatment of workers. The conversation culminates in reflections on the potential direction of the Catholic Church under Pope Leo XIV, emphasizing the need for a focus on human dignity and the common good.

What Ya Drinkin

• Benromach 10Yr Single Malt Scotch Whisky

• Woodford Reserve Bourbon

What Ya Smokin

• Rocky Patel Renaissance

• Arturo Fuente Hemingway Work of Art

What Ya Readin

• An Experiment in Criticism by C.S. Lewis

• Saxum by John F. Coverdale

• A Man Who Knew How to Forgive by Francisco Faus

Joe Catholic presents the My Stogie Mystagogy podcast. While sitting around in the Theological Armory, we smoke cigars, drink good whisky and discuss everyday ordinary life through a Catholic perspective.

Show Notes:

We explore the significance of prayer in our lives, recounting miraculous experiences and the impact of faith on our journeys. The discussion highlights the importance of community, intercessory prayer, and the belief that God answers prayers in various forms, ultimately emphasizing the power of faith in overcoming life's challenges

What Ya Smokin'

• Arturo Fuente 858 - Ring gauge: 47, Length: 6 inches.

• Arturo Fuente Best Seller - Ring gauge: 55, Length: 4.5 Inches

What Ya Drinkin'

• Benromach 10 Year Single Malt Scotch

• Woodford Reserve

What Ya Readin'

• Murder Must Advertise by Dorothy Sayers

• Saxum: The Life of Alvaro del Portillo by John F. Coverdale

Ever have that feeling that you learned some new word and then you hear it on the radio, on TV, in an article in the newspaper? It’s called the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon. and the term was coined in the 90s. (I believe by this time we can all agree we don’t need to put the 19 in front of every 20th century date.)

The phenomenon is more formally called “frequency illusion” but that doesn’t sound nearly as cool. And, it has nothing to do with the left-wing radical German group named that. Some guy posting on the St. Paul, Minnesota, Pioneer Press online community had seen the name of that group twice in 24 hours and decided to call it the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon.1

When I was a kid, I thought I knew the actual reason for this sense of repetition. I felt that God was helping me remember new words by showing them to me in various contexts. But, I was like 9 years old and my brain still worked like it should.

Anyway, it had not happened to me in quite a while, and then I saw this clip on YouTube:

Then I ran across this tidbit

A SERMON ON ETHICS AND LOVE

You can read the whole thing by following the link. I don’t feel right about just cutting and pasting it here.

But in summary, a person goes to see some sage. The sage notices the person is not well and asks what’s up? The reply is basically the world sucks and people are mean to each other.

Here’s the spoiler:

WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH THAT, IF IT IS WHAT YOU WANT TO DO?

"But nobody wants it! Everybody hates it."

OH. WELL, THEN STOP.

Just Stop It.

Kind of genius, eh?

Do you find yourself seeing cigars everywhere and wondering if it means something?

Welcome to Friday Fishwrap™, your weekly email filled with this week’s efforts from the staff of The Global Exclaimer.

🗺️ This Week in Ancient History

Events worth remembering, even if not currently trending.

🌍 Africa: Reign of Akhenaten Begins (c. June 1, 1353 BC)

Around June 1, 1353 BC, Pharaoh Amenhotep IV assumed the Egyptian throne and soon changed his name to Akhenaten, launching a radical monotheistic revolution focused on the sun disk Aten. His reign disrupted traditional polytheism and centralized religious power; a theological experiment centuries ahead of its time.

🌏 Asia: Death of Confucius (c. 479 BC)

Confucius, the great Chinese philosopher and teacher, is believed to have died around this time in 479 BC. His ethical teachings on filial piety, virtue, and societal harmony would shape East Asian thought for over two millennia, profoundly influencing China, Korea, Japan, and Vietnam.

🌎 South America: Chavín de Huántar Flourishes (c. 500 BC)

By this period, the ceremonial center of Chavín de Huántar in modern-day Peru was thriving as a religious and cultural hub. The Chavín civilization’s art, architecture, and religious iconography would echo through later Andean cultures, including the Inca.

🌏 Oceania: Early Lapita Pottery Peaks (c. 1000–500 BC)

In this era, the Lapita people—ancestors of Polynesians—were mastering oceanic navigation and crafting intricately patterned pottery across Melanesia and into western Polynesia. Their cultural expansion laid the groundwork for the settlement of the Pacific.

🌍 Europe: Founding of Massalia (c. 600 BC)

Around this week in 600 BC, Greek settlers from Phocaea founded the colony of Massalia (modern-day Marseille, France). This coastal city became a major trading hub, linking Mediterranean Greece with inland Gaul, and fostering early cross-cultural exchanges.

🌎 North America: Cahokia’s Mound 72 Constructed (c. 1000 AD)

Around this period, the Mississippian culture built Mound 72 at Cahokia, near present-day St. Louis. Excavations reveal it was a site of elite burial and ritual sacrifice—evidence of a complex, hierarchical society long before European contact.

⚙️ Invention Spotlight: The Archimedes Screw (c. 3rd century BC, Hellenistic Egypt)

Developed during Archimedes’ time in Alexandria, the Archimedean screw allowed water to be raised efficiently from lower to higher elevations. It revolutionized irrigation and water management, especially in arid regions, and versions of it are still in use today in agriculture, sewage treatment, and even snow blowers. A fine example of applied geometry serving civilization.

Come again to The Screaming Monkey’s Head and listen in on another tale.

The electronic fish wrap on which this newsletter is printed was ethically sourced from renewable quark farms. Not very many electrons were lost during the manufacture of this page, but those that were, sacrificed themselves willingly and count themselves blessed.

[1]

The Morning After

There’s No Place Like Rome

Gordon woke with a start, sounds of battle in his ears. He had a fleeting memory of a spear. He sat up disoriented and looked around and felt of his neck. Strangely apprehensive he took stock. He was lying on a straw mattress, under a coarse woven sheet. The mattress was on a low rough-hewn wooden frame. There was a small table next to the bed with an oil lamp, burning low but shedding a bit of light, a box of matches, and a small clay cup painted green.

He looked toward the door remembering Kindly Bob’s admonition to lock it. He needed to use the restroom badly, but wasn’t sure he should. Why lock the door, he wondered. He had been too unnerved to ask. Playdoe, he thought. “What is playdoe”. he said aloud. BANG BANG BANG! someone banged on the door. “It’s morning and there’s hot breakfast!” cried Kindly Bob.

“Then God has granted me another day to serve, and the enemy has granted me the courtesy of a hot meal.” He replied, and under his breath, “Christ rose in silence. I see no need for trumpet and frying pan.” He roused himself, went and slid back the rather heavy bolt on his door and peered out. Kindly Bob was walking back toward the bar. Or was tavern more correct?

Gordon crossed the hall, relieved himself and looked at himself in the mirror. He remembered thinking it was of unusual quality the night before. He smoothed his hair with damp hands, and went out into the bar area.

“Good morning, Gordo,” cried Kindly Bob. He looked exactly the same as last night, but wearing a light blue linen shirt that tied at the neck. Last night… it was not that shirt. “Hale and well met,” replied Gordon. “You look quite awake at this early hour, how long have you been up?” Kindly Bob snorted, “Years,” he replied. “Years and years aplenty.”

Gordon let that pass and he sat at the bar. “Be right back,” said Kindly Bob and he was as good as his word, returning shortly with a plate of scrambled eggs, sausage patties, something that looked like potatoes cubed and fried, and plopped them on the counter in front of Gordon. He left and came back with a steaming crockery mug and a clear glass with what looked like orange juice.

Gordon looked at the largesse with something like awe and dismay. “Some dates and a crust of bread, and perhaps some tea?” he asked hopefully. “Nope, you’re not on campaign, eat hearty. You may need the calories.” Gordon looked for a moment, shrugged and asked, “What do I owe you for bed and breakfast?” Kindly Bob chuckled and said, “Where were we?” He turned and pulled a stool to him and sat, elbows on the counter. “Eat up,” He said. “The cold angry man had just learned the bomb was Play-Doh.” Gordon picked up a fork and poked at the eggs, and tried to ask, “What’s Play-Doh?” but was cut off.

Cold angry man, no longer cold and angry, sat at his favorite cafe in Rome, sipping his Caffe Americano. It was three months after the botched train job. Senator Hogarth had successfully died in a car crash and the appropriation bill had gone through.

“Krieger,” a honeyed voice dripped over him.

Krieger looked up to see a man of middling height, solid build, and amiable face looking down at him. He set his coffee down and dropped his hand into his lap and looked around. A blacked out van, a woman at the bus stop, a man lighting a cigarette – none had been there only moments before.

“Blacked out what?” “Shhh, pay attention.”

The dark eyes of the man looked at Krieger’s hand in his lap and said, “No need for that. I am from Aeon.” Krieger’s eyes narrowed, and he kept his hand near his weapon. Aeon. He had done work for Aeon before.

“We want to talk with you about the train.” It wasn’t a request, it was a honey coated demand. Krieger did not like it, but he stood, dropped a 2 euro coin on the table, drained his coffee, and went with the man. He had no choice.

“My name is… James.” Krieger knew that was not true, but got in the back seat of a waiting Tesla. As he sat he noticed there were no inner door handles, and there was no driver. The door closed for him by unseen hands and so he said, “Once around the park James, and then home for tea.” James gave a light easy laugh and Krieger broke into a cold sweat.

“Look,” broke in Gordon, “I don’t know what a Tesla is, but how does it drive with no driver?” Kindly Bob stopped a long moment his queer blue eyes bright and eerie. Gordon continued, “What is this story?”

Kindly Bob sighed and sat up straight. “Ok, think of it as a fairy story. Just accept things like a talking horse or wickedy witches.” Now it was Gordon’s turn to just stare back at Kindly Bob. Finally, “Ok. I’ll try. Reminds me of stories I heard in China.”

Recognition flashed in Kindly Bob’s face and his eyes got even brighter. “Ah, Chinese Gordon… that’s right.” Gordon shook his head. “I don’t like that name.” He straightened and looked intently at Kindly Bob, “It is demeaning and trivializing and for the papers and the scoundrels selling them.”

Kindly Bob sat back and said, “My apologies General.” Gordon forked a mouthful of eggs into his mouth, and Kindly Bob continued.

“Hogarth was handled,” he started, “I had no idea I was working for…” “You weren’t,” interrupted James.

Krieger waited. The Tesla navigated in silence toward the Spanish Steps. The car stopped, the doors opened, and he got out. The car shushed off leaving James in the street looking at him. Neither moved. Finally Krieger broke and said, “This feels like a stand-off.” “It was,” James said, then nodding toward the Steps asked, “Have you seen the view from up there?” James started walking up the steps. Krieger didn’t move, he didn’t even turn. James stopped with one foot ahead of the other, turned and said, “Why are you standing there?”

Without turning Krieger said, “If the job was not for you, I cannot talk with you.” He had been scanning for the van, the man, and the woman, or their replacements. Nothing. He would never know if they had a sniper, and so he started walking.

“Your employer has involved me.”

Krieger stopped. Not us, me. He turned. The part of him that would rather eliminate a threat than hide from it won, and he followed the man up the steps. At the top James turned to Krieger, looked at his hand in his pocket, and dripped, “I don’t die easy.” Krieger’s hand remained in his pocket as he gazed out over Piazza di Spagna & Via dei Condotti.

“Are you familiar with the cone of silence?” “Some sort of deliberate sound manipulation.” “We are in one now.” Krieger looked around. He could hear everything going on around him. He listened harder. Something was definitely odd. Something really weird about the sound. He finally placed it.

Normally we don’t pay attention to the passing of sound. We notice the doppler effect with sirens and such, sound moving toward us pitching up, sounds moving away from us pitching down. Virtually all sources of sound are moving in relation to the hearer. Sounds leaving us are not a threat so we ignore them. The retreating doppler effect goes unnoticed. However, it is there, always. Except now.

He was in an auditory dead zone. The sounds he was hearing died there; they came in, they did not leave. They just laid there, hollowed out. He felt claustrophobic and exposed at the same moment. If he screamed, no one would hear him. He took an experimental step toward the Steps, the sound quality went up, well, became normal surround sound . He stepped back, mono. Anyone walking through the zone would not notice. He hadn’t noticed until the effect was brought to his attention. This was a public private place.

He had a thought and pulled his cell phone out. No service. He looked up to see James smiling at him. It was an easy smile, even friendly, but unconsciously superior. “Good,” he said. “We can talk.”

“About?”

“The bomb.”

Krieger again simply waited. James smiled benignly and said, “Ok. Why did you kill Smiley?” “He made the bomb, it was a fake bomb, I killed him.”

“Wrong on two counts. The bomb was not fake, and you didn’t believe it to be fake until the day after you dispatched him.” Jim smiled benignly.

Krieger took a breath, steadied himself, and choosing words carefully intoned, “The bomb did not go off, he was the bomb maker, his error, his price to pay.”

“We should have liked very much to talk with him, because you see, we are certain the bomb was fully functional when it was attached. There are things we should have liked to ask Smiley. Did he notice anything different, anything that had changed from when it was installed. But - we can’t.” Pause. “Because you killed him.” Now a mild sigh. “We had many questions.”

Krieger licked his dry lips. He managed to say “Like, why did he install a Play-Doh bomb?” James just looked at him. “We don’t think he did.” “No?” asked Krieger. “You think the bomb was fully functional?”

“The shaped charge case it was packed into is the same as originally delivered. ” Krieger raised an eyebrow but controlled it quickly. “There are C4 markers in evidence. The case did have C4 in it.”

“Regardless, the detonator did not go off. If the bomb was working, the detonator would have at least gone off. There would be splattered Play-Doh at least.”

“It was C4.” His voice was as flat as his pale gray eyes. He paused and for the first time a hint of frustration played around those eyes. Almost inaudibly, “Until it wasn’t.”

Krieger opened his mouth, shut it, started to ask one question, stopped and thought furiously. Finally, “If the detonator was non functioning, then why Play-Doh?” And then suddenly, “If this was not your job, why do you care?”

“We are studying, ah, certain um, patterns.” A pause. “We think… we think it was – a joke.” Another pause, longer. “The detonator was tested. It worked.”

“So, then the signal…” “Was fine.”

Krieger was silent. A joke!? He was frankly astonished. Who could possibly toy with Aeon?

They stood for a while and then James said, “You will tell me everything about the planning, the accumulation of materials, the selection of your men, everything. Nothing is small or trivial.”

“Yeah, like hell I will,” and he started to walk off. “You are on the clock.” Krieger stopped and turned. The man was showing him a bulging envelope in his inner coat pocket. He pulled it out and tossed it toward Krieger. Krieger examined the package. It had his sign on it. He had been hired. He turned back toward Krieger searching his face and those gray eyes. “You think there is a leak of some sort. There’s not.” He paused, “At least from my side,” he said pointedly.

The point was not lost on James. “We have resources, we keep tabs on things.” His gray eyes bored into Krieger’s deep brown eyes. “We know there was no leak.”

Krieger heaved a mental sigh, “What do you want me to do?”

“Right now, answer my questions.”

Kindly Bob sat back. Gordon picked up the clay mug and was happy to find it was hot tea, no milk, no sugar. The right way. He waited.

“You finished?” Kindly Bob asked as he reached toward Gordon’s empty plate.

“What, oh, yeah, I mean yes, thank you. Do go on.”

“I’ve got other customers, other stories to tell. Come back this evening,” and he turned and greeted a newcomer to the bar, “What’ll it be?”

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For more of the same or similar: Tales

Some folks have a sacramental world view

Which is to say, an accurate and deeper world view. One definition of sacrament is a visible sign that points to an invisible truth; something in the natural world that reveals or participates in a deeper spiritual or metaphysical reality.

One such sign is the bilateral symmetry we find in most complex organisms. Simplest examples, left and right arms, left and right legs, left and right wings, left and right eyes and ears.

Frater Bovious was once asked by his young daughter, why do we have two ears? He thought for a moment and realized, as close together as they are, sound nevertheless arrives to each ear at different times. This allows us to know from which direction the sound came.

And most of us know about the advantage of stereoscopic vision. Predators have two eyes facing forward with overlapping fields of view. This permits us to judge depth accurately, allows better hand-eye coordination, improved motion tracking, and enhances focus, allowing us to concentrate on one object while ignoring background.

Bilateral symmetry. It matters.

A one winged bird cannot fly. A horse with two left legs cannot run. We need left and right. Bilateral symmetry is not left vs right. Rather, its effectiveness is found in its complementarity. It allows action and integration.

What is the invisible Political truth I want to evoke by this discussion?

The framers of the Constitution built bilateral symmetry into our government. Even within the three branches of government we see this complementarity, the way forward with action and integration.

House and Senate

The House is closer to the people, short election cycles, more responsive. The Senate, especially as originally configured, is more deliberative, insulated from mob rule. The symmetry: passion and prudence, motion and restraint.

Executive and Legislature

President provides unitary action, speed, decisions. Meanwhile the structure of the Legislature creates debate, consideration of multiple interests, fosters compromise, even delay. The symmetry: deliberation by many is safer than impulse by one. Unless immediate action must be taken. Then you need a single will.

There are many more such symmetries that you can tease out for yourself. Federal and State. Judiciary and Legislative. You can see the complementarity, the balance, if you will look.

Three Smoke Signs

• Liberal ≠ Progressive (Smoke of Semantic Collapse)

  Liberal (original sense):
  Values individual freedom under law, grounded in reason, natural rights, and ordered liberty. Seeks to protect persons from excessive power.

  Progressive (modern sense):
  Seeks social transformation through state action, aiming for equality of outcome1 and structural change. Uses power to reshape persons and society.

  Core difference:
  Liberals protect liberty; progressives pursue justice through change—even at liberty’s expense.
  Fire risk:
  By focusing on progressive values, which are ungrounded, we lose prudence, caution, the Burkean2 brake pedal.

• Conservative ≠ Reactionary (Smoke of Tribal Branding)
  Conservative (Original sense):
  One who seeks to preserve the good, the true, and the time-tested.
  Not opposed to change, but insists that change be measured, rooted in tradition, and oriented toward the common good.

  Smoke:
  Equating conservatism with just saying “no” to everything. True conservatism conserves—but it also cultivates.

  Fire risk:
  Without the liberal impulse to reform, conservatism calcifies. Without conservatism, liberalism derails.

• Right vs. Left ≠ Good vs. Evil - or Evil vs. Good (Smoke of Moral Absolutism)

  Location:
  Everywhere. Right and Left stand in for a vast cache of opinions and value judgments that frankly simply don’t apply to any one individual. We are not two-dimensional and we are not that tiny. And they should not ever be in a zero sum game of opposition.

  Smoke:
  The idea that your side is the angel and the other is Moloch’s intern.

  Fire risk:
  A civilization that forgets political symmetry breeds monsters on both sides of the aisle. Remember: the heart’s got two atria (left and right) and two ventricles (left and right). Taken together, the right side takes in oxygen depleted blood and then sends it to the lungs to become oxygenated. The left side takes in the oxygenated blood and then sends it to the body. The left and right, upper and lower chambers coordinate and cooperate or the body dies.

Smoke to watch for

The idea that centrism is cowardice. Every tightrope walker knows that balancing left and right is a demonstration of strength, not weakness.

Closing

We were made for balance. That’s not a metaphor. Bilateral symmetry isn’t just efficient; it’s revelatory. It tells us something true about how complex things stay alive.

Our political system was designed the same way: not as a tug-of-war, but as a tensioned net. When one side breaks or bloats or declares itself the whole, the organism will die. So, what do you and I do to keep this living breathing country alive?

We don’t confuse outrage with reason. We do remember the price of freedom is vigilance. Always scan the horizon for tell-tale wisps of smoke.

Fires should be controlled, and mastery of fire is foundational to civilization and is a skill that warrants development. Like when you light a fine cigar, which you can help me with by smashing that button. You can help buy me a cigar with a $5 donation. I will laud your largesse in a future article.

Welcome to Friday Fishwrap™, Saturday edition of your weekly email filled with this week’s efforts from the staff of The Global Exclaimer.

🗺️ This Week in Ancient History

Events worth remembering, even if not currently trending.

🌍 Africa: Battle of Maungwe (1684)

In 1684, the Changamire Empire of southern Africa defeated a Portuguese army at the Battle of Maungwe. This victory initiated a prolonged military campaign between the Changamire and Portugal, lasting until 1917.

🌏 Asia: Battle of Granicus (May 334 BC)

In May 334 BC, Alexander the Great achieved his first major victory against the Persian Empire at the Battle of Granicus in Asia Minor. This triumph marked the beginning of his campaign to conquer Asia.

🌎 Europe: Solar Eclipse Halts Battle (May 28, 585 BC)

On May 28, 585 BC, a predicted solar eclipse occurred during a battle between the Medians and Lydians in Asia Minor. The sudden darkness led both sides to cease fighting and declare a truce.

🌍 North America: Founding of Tenochtitlan (Thought to be early June, 1325 AD)
According to Aztec tradition, the city of Tenochtitlan—future site of Mexico City—was founded in early June 1325, guided by a prophecy of an eagle devouring a snake atop a cactus. It became the capital of a vast empire and one of the most impressive cities of pre-Columbian America.

🌏 Oceania: Polynesian Settlement of Hawai'i (ca. 300–800 AD)

Between approximately 300 and 800 AD, Polynesian navigators settled the Hawaiian Islands, showcasing their advanced seafaring skills and expanding their cultural influence across the Pacific. Some of that probably happened this week…

🌎 South America: Nazca Lines Created (ca. 500 BC–500 AD)
Spanning nearly a millennium (so some of it probably happened during this week, more than once even), Peru’s Nazca Lines began with geometric forms by the Paracas culture; the famous animal figures—like the monkey and hummingbird—emerged around 100 AD under the Nazca. Likely ritualistic or astronomical, they remain one of archaeology’s enduring mysteries.

⚙️ Technological Marvel: Water Clock (Clepsydra) – ca. 1600 BC
Developed in ancient Babylon and Egypt, the water clock (or clepsydra) was one of humanity’s earliest tools for measuring time independently of the sun. Used in courts, temples, and astronomy, it paved the way for more precise timekeeping and ultimately for mechanical clocks millennia later. Water dripped from a container through a hole into a lower container that had time markings on the side. Instead of winding this all up, you just poured the water out of the bottom bucket and refilled the top.

Robin DiAngelo's White Fragility reaches its rhetorical low point in the chapter on "White Women's Tears." I stopped reading here the first time. I’ve read it now, and I’ve got questions. Are all tears suspect? Do intentions no longer matter? And when did empathy become oppression?

The strange case of Sneewitchen

I’ve read a lot of opinions on why the current effort by Disney to remake and re-profit their catalog has failed. There are the usual suspects. “Go woke, go broke”, and “Rachel Zegler, I just can’t”. But, there is a deeper reason why this movie disappoints.

My Stogie Mystagogy Podcast

Your Hosts are joined by Sir Patrick Norton of the Carrollton Nortons for a discussion of AI. Patrick lends a different air to the podcast. He smokes a pipe.

Still Coming Soon -

Wherein the count of the poems shall be three. A sonnet in blank verse. A medieval Latin styled drinking song. A runic ballad. Hosted by Virj who will be our guide to these poems.

If you made it this far, you are indeed made of stern stuff. Thank you. And if anything pleased you, made you think, made any sort of impression at all, please share, please like and please, please, comment. If you didn’t like something, or disagree, please comment and issue a formal challenge!

And if your purse allows, smash that button and send $5 toward an Arturo Fuente 858. I will laud your largesse in a future article about the importance of being a patron of the arts in these artless times.

The electronic fish wrap on which this newsletter is printed was ethically sourced from renewable quark farms. Not very many electrons were lost during the manufacture of this page, but those that were, sacrificed themselves willingly and count themselves blessed.

Joe Catholic presents the My Stogie Mystagogy podcast. While sitting around in the Theological Armory, we smoke cigars, drink good whisky and discuss everyday ordinary life through a Catholic perspective.

Show Notes:

We explore the art of cigar and whiskey pairings, delve into literary discussions about imagination and poetry, and critically examine the role of AI in modern life. We discuss the importance of intentional reading, and reflect on how AI can enhance creativity and productivity.

In this conversation, we discuss various applications of AI in education, writing, and spirituality, while also addressing ethical concerns and the role of AI in creativity and art. The dialogue emphasizes the importance of understanding AI as a tool that can be used for both positive and negative purposes, depending on the user's intentions. The conversation concludes with reflections on the future of AI and its interaction with human creativity and ethics.

What Ya Smokin'

• Padron 2000 Maduro - Ring gauge of 50, and five inches long

• Arturo Fuente Don Carlos Personal Reserve - Ring gauge: 5 and 1/4 inches

• Cornell & Diehl Bayou Night - Sir Patrick Norton is smoking a pipe filled

What Ya Drinkin'

• Benromach 10 Year Single Malt Scotch

• Woodford Reserve

What Ya Readin'

• The Educated Imagination, Northrop Frye

• From Christendom to Apostolic Mission

• Distractions in Prayer, Blessing or Curse?

On another note - want to be freaked out? https://x.com/HashemGhaili/status/1925332319604257203

Kindly Bob Invites One and All to The Screaming Monkey’s Head Poetry Night, hosted by Virj.

Virj will introduce each poem with some fascinating insight into the form and meaning. Coming Next Friday, May 30th.

On the Menu

1. Loon Haunted Hinterlands - a sonnet in blank verse

2. There Once Was A Man From Nantucket - Medieval Latin styled drinking song

3. Out Past The Knowing - A runic ballad This ballad has actually been submitted for publication, and they won’t publish if it is published here. so…