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Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Friends of the decanter, especially those couple of you who have actually met me in meatspace, may be interested to know that Ol’ Robbo crossed the Rubicon today with respect to his plague beard by going over to the devil’s website and investing in an electric trimmer kit.  It’s got to the point where I need either to clean the thing up or to get rid of it, so I decided to go all in.  “YOLO”, as the Boomers like to say.  (They’re more right than they realize, by the bye, only not in the way they think.)

Now it just may be a cowinkidink, or it may be one of those tiny, gossamer threads in the Great Plan, but while I was at said website, I noticed a book served up on my recommendations list: On Faith: Lessons From An American Believer by Antonin Scalia.  I’ve learned to act on these little promptings (or, if you want to put it that way, am easily subject to temptation), so I immediately snapped it up.

Justice Scalia and I attended the same Mass for almost ten years, and while I never spoke to him one on one, I did sometimes hang about in post-Mass circles when he hobnobbed with the Padre.  I’d no idea he’d written a book about it all, but I can’t say I’m particularly surprised.  I’ll let you know what I think once I’ve read it.  (As an aside, I may say here that I find myself dancing with frustration every time the Scalia-Was-Murdered meme bubbles up on the comment boards I follow.  The man was in obviously declining health towards the end and I used to marvel that he still managed to keep himself going when I saw him.)

I notice that the book comes with a forward by Scalia’s son, Fr. Paul Scalia.  He was our parish priest for a while and still subs now and again.  One of my fondest memories is of the time he thoroughly spiked Eldest, who was a middle-schooler (in every vile sense of the word) at the parish academy and thought she saw an opening to get me.  We were talking together (I forget what occasion) when the Gel suddenly blurted out, “Faaaather! My dad says there are Baseball Gods!”

Without missing a beat, Fr. Paul said, “Of course there are Baseball Gods.”

The look on the Gel’s face was priceless.  Heh.

Anyhoo, as I say, I’ll let you know what I think of the book.

UPDATED:  Well, I cancelled the trimmer, as the devil’s website informed me it would take a month to get here and I anticipate returning to the office before then.  I’ll just go pick one up at Tarjay or somewhere.  The book will take a month, too, but I can wait on that.

 

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