I could never bring myself to forward all the email jokes, cartoons and other Internet comedy that land in my inbox. But then I started posting the ones my dad sends me. Judging from my comments and emails, my dad has become one of my greatest blogging assets. So for your morning blog chuckle I present: From My Dad.

My name is Jeff Hess and I’m a biblioholic. I own hundreds of books. Not valuable books, mostly Science Fiction paperbacks and text books, tomes rescued by the bag from library book sales. A few years ago, in the interest of not burying myself, I began reading more books from the library and taking notes. My electronic chapbook was born.

This is a passage I copied from Labyrinths: Walking Toward The Center by Gernot Candolini.

In preparation for the dance, they tell us, the youngest priest was to procure a golden yellow ball. After Easter vespers, he handed the ball over to the dean or bishop, while the priests formed a circle around the labyrinth.

Then the dean danced the tripudium, a thumping three-step, through the labyrinth, while the priests danced around the labyrinth in a circle. Throughout the dance the ball, symbolizing the Easter Sun rising over the labyrinth, was tossed back and forth between the priests and the dean. After this Easter dance a great banquet was served.

This dance in the church labyrinths was a tradition that lasted for more than three centuries. When I think about our contemporary world, which is surprisingly stiff in so many ways, I like to imagine that deans and bishops might restore this tradition and at least once a year dare to do a little dance with their colleagues.

I can readily imagine that such a dance would conjure up a smile on the faces not only of the bishops and priests, but of the entire community and perhaps even the angels.

[Compare this to David dancing before the ark; the kohanim dancing in the outer court of the temple and Secretary of State Collin Powell performing YMCA at an internal summit. JH] p. 23

From CH (CPT) Brad P. Lewis: I posted this piece on Christmas Day in 2004 from Mosul. It was four days after the mess tent bombing there that took the lives of two dozen soldiers and civilians, and wounded many more: Compared to recent days, today was fairly uneventful. A steady, cold drizzle ensured that this was quite possibly the muddiest and least…

I could never bring myself to forward all the email jokes, cartoons and other Internet comedy that land in my inbox. But then I started posting the ones my dad sends me. Judging from my comments and emails, my dad has become one of my greatest blogging assets. So for your morning blog chuckle I present: From My Dad.

Philosophy of sex

“I believe that sex is one of the most beautiful, natural, wholesome things that money can buy.” Tom Clancy

“You know “that look” women get when they want sex? Me neither.” Steve Martin

“Having sex is like playing bridge. If you don’t have a good partner, you’d better have a good hand.” Woody Allen

“Bisexuality immediately doubles your chances for a date on Saturday night.” Rodney Dangerfield

“There are a number of mechanical devices which increase sexual arousal, particularly in women. Chief among these is the Mercedes-Benz 380SL.” Lynn Lavner

“Leaving sex to the feminists is like letting your dog vacation at the taxidermist.” Matt Barry

“Sex at age 90 is like trying to shoot pool with a rope.” George Burns

“Sex is one of the nine reasons for reincarnation. The other e eight are unimportant.” George Burns

“Women might be able to fake orgasms. But men can fake whole relationships.” Sharon Stone

“My girlfriend always laughs during sex —no matter what she’s reading.” Steve Jobs

“My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch.” Jack Nicholson

“Clinton lied. A man might forget where he parks or where he lives, but he never forgets oral sex, no matter how bad it is.” Barbara Bush

“Ah, yes, divorce, from the Latin word meaning to rip out a man’s genitals through his wallet.” Robin Williams

“Women complain about premenstrual syndrome, but I think of it as the only time of the month that I can be myself.” Roseanne

“Women need a reason to have sex. Men just need a place.” Billy Crystal

“According to a new survey, women say they feel more comfortable undressing in front of men than they do undressing in front of other women. They say that women are too judgmental, where, of course, men are just grateful.” Robert De Niro

“There’s a new medical crisis. Doctors are reporting that many men are having allergic reactions to latex condoms. They say they cause severe swelling. So what’s the problem?” Dustin Hoffman

“There’s very little advice in men’s magazines, because men think, I know what I’m doing. Just show me somebody naked.” Jerry Seinfeld

“Instead of getting married again, I’m going to find a woman I don’t like and just give her a house.” Rod Stewart

“See, the problem is that God gives men a brain and a penis, and only enough blood to run one at a time.” Robin Williams

My name is Jeff Hess and I’m a biblioholic. I own hundreds of books. Not valuable books, mostly Science Fiction paperbacks and text books, tomes rescued by the bag from library book sales. A few years ago, in the interest of not burying myself, I began reading more books from the library and taking notes. My electronic chapbook was born.

This is a passage I copied from Labyrinths: Walking Toward The Center by Gernot Candolini.

Through the Labyrinth: Designs and Meanings Over 5,000 Years by Herman Kern. p. 15

No, this one is not from my dad, but it appears that he’s starting a trend, nay a movement, among my readers as I’m beginning to receive more of these kinds of emails. I promise that I’ll be selective, no more than one funny a day. My reader Cailin sent this one along to me and when my blogger friend Molly read it, she nearly shot coffee out her nose.

As a teacher, Ms. Jones was very curious about how each of her students celebrated Christmas. She called on young Patrick Murphy. “Tell me Patrick, what do you do at Christmas time?”, she asked.

Patrick addressed the class, “Well Ms. Jones, me and my twelve brothers and sisters go ot midnight Mass and we sing hymns, then we come home very late and we put mince pies by the back door and hang up our stockings. Then all excited, we go to bed and wait for Father Christmas to come with all our toys”.

“Very nice Patrick”, she said. “Now, Jimmy Brown what do you do at Christmas?”

“Well, Ms. Jones, me and my sister also go to Church with Mum and Dad, and we sing carols and we get home ever so late. We put cookies and milk by the chimney and we hang up our stockings. We hardly sleep, waiting for Santa Claus to bring our presents.”

Realizing there was a Jewish boy in the class, and not wanting to leave him out of the discussio n, she asked, “Now, Isaac Cohen, what do you do at Christmas?”

Isaac said, “Well, it’s the same thing every year. Dad comes home from the office. We all pile into the Rolls Royce, then we drive to his toy factory. When we get inside, we look at all the empty shelves and begin to sing ‘What a Friend We Have in Jesus’. Then we all go to the Bahamas.”

From CAPT Lee Kelley: I wrote this a year ago: Life doesn’t seem to give you time-outs. Put your hands up in the shape of a “T,” and the stress is not softened, the edges not blurred so you can sit down on the bench of life’s sideline and just catch your breath. The clock doesn’t stop so that you can better deal with whatever hardships or difficulties you are experiencing….

I could never bring myself to forward all the email jokes, cartoons and other Internet comedy that land in my inbox. But then I started posting the ones my dad sends me. Judging from my comments and emails, my dad has become one of my greatest blogging assets. So for a serious morning blog moment I present: From My Dad.

Christmas at Arlington and one big, American thank-you is certainly due to Merrill Worcester and the Worcester Wreath Co. of Harrington, Maine . To do something like this year after year is above and beyond the call of duty. Here’s a salute to you, Merrill, and I hope you get many more.

I had never heard of this. I have only visited in the summer months. I wonder why the press hasn’t enlightened the public about it?

Arlington National Cemetery

Rest easy, sleep well my brothers.

Know the line has held, your job is done.

Rest easy, sleep well.

Others have taken up where you fell, the line has held

Peace, peace, and farewell…

Readers may be interested to know that these wreaths — some 5,000 — are donated by the Worcester Wreath Co. of Harrington, Maine . The owner, Merrill Worcester, not only provides the wreaths, but covers the trucking expense as well.

He’s done this since 1992. A wonderful guy. Also, most years, groups of Maine school kids combine an educational trip to DC with this event to help out. Making this even more remarkable is the fact that Harrington is in one the poorest parts of the state.

For the rest of the story, visit Snopes.

My name is Jeff Hess and I’m a biblioholic. I own hundreds of books. Not valuable books, mostly Science Fiction paperbacks and text books, tomes rescued by the bag from library book sales. A few years ago, in the interest of not burying myself, I began reading more books from the library and taking notes. My electronic chapbook was born.

This is a passage I copied from The Stormy Search for the Self: A guide to personal growth through transformational crisis by Christina and Stanislav Grof.

[Joseph] Campbell found that the archetype of the hero”s journey typically has three stages, which are similar to those we described earlier as characteristic sequences in traditional rites of passage: separation, initiation and return.

The hero leaves the familiar ground or is forcefully separated from it by an external force, is transformed through a series of extraordinary ordeals and adventures, and finally is again incorporated into his or her original society in a new role.

In Campbell”s own words, the basic formula for the hero”s journey can be summarized as follows: A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder; fabulous forces are encountered and a decisive victory is won; the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man…

[Campbell”s] monomyth of the hero”s journey is a metaphor for the inner experiences during a transforming crisis, describing its experiential territories. As the transformative crisis is universally relevant, so it the myth. p. 127

For everyone during the holidays with which we conclude each year, my dad has sent along this poem. According to Snopes, the authorship is uncertain, but it is most often attributed to a LCDR Jeff Giles in the Navy Supply Corps. I was fortunate during my time in the service to have only missed one December at home.

A Different Christmas Poem

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn’t loud, and it wasn’t too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn’t quite know, Then the
sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.
“What are you doing?” I asked without fear,
“Come in this moment, it’s freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!”

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..
To the window that danced with a warm fire’s light
Then he sighed and he said “Its really all right,
I’m out here by choice. I’m here every night.”
“It’s my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I’m proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at ‘Pearl on a day in December,”
Then he sighed, “That’s a Christmas ‘Gram always remembers.”
“My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ‘Nam’,
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I’ve not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he’s sure got her smile.”

Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue… an American flag.
“I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall.”

“So go back inside,” he said, “harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I’ll be all right.”
“But isn’t there something I can do, at the least,
“Give you money,” I asked, “or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you’ve done,
For being away from your wife and your son.”
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
“Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we’re gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.”

LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN
30th Naval Construction Regiment
OIC, Logistics Cell One
Al Taqqadum, Iraq

Michael Marks

From C. Maloney: “If you can’t eat it, or you can’t wear it, we probably don’t need it.” That’s the directive from the CO. So, what does my husband get this year at Christmas for being a good boy? Well, let’s look at the environmental requirements (not an easy task, may I add, considering I have talked to him once, for 10 minutes, in the last month). It’s the desert and…

I could never bring myself to forward all the email jokes, cartoons and other Internet comedy that land in my inbox. But then I started posting the ones my dad sends me. Judging from my comments and emails, my dad has become one of my greatest blogging assets. So for your morning blog chuckle I present: From My Dad.

Only one day until Christmas…

Q: What’s a good holiday tip?
A: Never catch snowflakes with your tongue until all the birds have gone south for the winter.

My name is Jeff Hess and I’m a biblioholic. I own hundreds of books. Not valuable books, mostly Science Fiction paperbacks and text books, tomes rescued by the bag from library book sales. A few years ago, in the interest of not burying myself, I began reading more books from the library and taking notes. My electronic chapbook was born.

This is a passage I copied from The Stormy Search for the Self: A guide to personal growth through transformational crisis by Christina and Stanislav Grof.

The pain was so sharp that I moaned but the delight of this tremendous pain is so overwhelming that one cannot wish it to leave one, nor is the soul any longer satisfied with anything less than God. It is a spiritual, not bodily pain, although the body has some part, even a considerable part, in it. It is an exchange of courtesies between the soul and God. St. Teresa of Avila. p. 69

My name is Jeff Hess and I’m a biblioholic. I own hundreds of books. Not valuable books, mostly Science Fiction paperbacks and text books, tomes rescued by the bag from library book sales. A few years ago, in the interest of not burying myself, I began reading more books from the library and taking notes. My electronic chapbook was born.

This is a passage I copied from The Stormy Search for the Self: A guide to personal growth through transformational crisis by Christina and Stanislav Grof.

Hesychasm is a term applied to three distinct but related stages of development of Eastern Christian spirituality. The term comes from the Greek word meaning “tranquility.”

First, hesychasm refers to the spirituality which was characteristic of the early Church Fathers in the 4th and 5th centuries. These monks were hermits dwelling in the deserts seeking inner peace and spiritual insight while practicing contemplation and self-discipline as they studied the New Testament and the Psalter.

Secondly, hesychasm refers to the type of contemplation which developed with the Byzantine spirituality from the 10th to the 14th centuries. Such spirituality employed the method of praying the Jesus Prayer “(Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.)” The saying of the pray was synchronized with one’s breathing. This spiritual practice is characteristic of the spirituality described in the five volume collection called Philokalia.

Thirdly, hesychasm refers to the theological exposition of the contemplation of God as proposed by Gregory Palamas in the 14th century and became the official doctrine of the Orthodox Church. Plamas’ aimed for this proposal was to defend the hesychastic spirituality and the way of prayer of the monks of Mt. Athos and the Byzantine Orient against the attacks of the Barlaam Calabria. Palamas distinguished between the unchanging essence of God and His uncreative energies.

“The Taboric Light (the light that surrounded Christ in the Transfiguration), the goal sought in contemplation by the hesychasts, was a theophany, or manifestation of God, through His uncreated energies.” A.G.H. Source: (Hesychasm, George A. Maloney, S.J., John, XXIII Center, Fordham University)

In many cases the intense and sometimes overpowering craving for drugs, alcohol, food, sex or other objects of addiction is really a misplaced yearning for wholeness, a larger sense of self, or God – one that cannot be satisfied in the external world. p. 106

From Ian Wolfe: Since the rainy season started I have discovered that there are several different kinds of mud. At first I thought “How bad could it be?” Now I know. The worst mud is the thick mud; it can add up to three inches to your height. This is good for most, but I am already too tall for anywhere but America. This mud is especially thick when rocks and gravel…

I could never bring myself to forward all the email jokes, cartoons and other Internet comedy that land in my inbox. But then I started posting the ones my dad sends me. Judging from my comments and emails, my dad has become one of my greatest blogging assets. So for your morning blog chuckle I present: From My Dad.

Only two days until Christmas…

Q: Why is Christmas just like a day at the office?
A: You do all the work and the fat guy with the suit gets all the credit.

My name is Jeff Hess and I’m a biblioholic. I own hundreds of books. Not valuable books, mostly Science Fiction paperbacks and text books, tomes rescued by the bag from library book sales. A few years ago, in the interest of not burying myself, I began reading more books from the library and taking notes. My electronic chapbook was born.

This is a passage I copied from The Stormy Search for the Self: A guide to personal growth through transformational crisis by Christina and Stanislav Grof.

The shadow of death and torments of hell are most acutely felt, and this comes from the sense of being abandoned by God…

(by an absence of conscious/unconscious connection? JH)

…a terrible apprehension has come upon [the soul] that thus it will be forever… It sees itself in the midst of the opposite evils, miserable imperfections, dryness and emptiness of the understanding and abandonment of the spirit in darkness. St. John of the Cross, The Dark Night. p. 46

Back in 1994, animation historian Jerry Beck compiled a list of the 50 greatest animated cartoons of all-time as voted upon by those in the animation industry. Now, City Rag has taken the list one step further by linking to all 50 cartoons. I haven’t watched them all, but I think I recognize about 90 percent. How about you?

From Army Girl: “Why do you stay in the military?”, my friends and family ask me, and I look at them, dumbfounded. I have to pause and stop myself from saying something really hurtful and sarcastic. There’s a war going on. Two, in fact. There are people being buried in mass graves, children starving and women so desperate that they’ll come up to you on the street and beg…

I could never bring myself to forward all the email jokes, cartoons and other Internet comedy that land in my inbox. But then I started posting the ones my dad sends me. Judging from my comments and emails, my dad has become one of my greatest blogging assets. So for your morning blog chuckle I present: From My Dad.

Only three days until Christmas…

Q: Why does Scrooge love Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?
A: Because every buck is dear to him.

Q: How come you never hear anything about the 10th reindeer “Olive” ?
A: Yeah, you know, “Olive the other reindeer, used to laugh and call him names”