Mack Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
The Governor and the Guru
Wel coude he rede a lesson and a storye,
But alderbest he soong an offertorye
- Chaucer, Canterbury Tales, General Prologue, 711-715
Last week the President was pleased to host the ever-fashionable Dalai Lama at The People’s House, while Governor Perry was sued for planning to attend a Christian prayer service in August.
The thesis here seems to be is that hanging out with a Buddhist of very questionable background who claims to have been reincarnated fourteen times rocks, dude, but associating with Baptists is a crime.
Folks are inexplicably drawn to trendy gurus, and without much thought in the matter: the Tibetan in Dorothy Lamour’s old sarong, Fred Phelps, the Hale-Bopp spaceship guy, John Corapi, and other opportunists all the way back to Chaucer’s Pardoner (General Prologue 671-716). They may have their eyes on the Heavens but their hands so often wish to reside in your wallet.
President Bush I, President Clinton, President Bush II, and President Obama have all had the Dalai Lama over to the White House for some greeting-card theology, and no one seems to know why. But, like, hey, the Dalai Lama’s, like, cool, y’know. One would like to think that presidents exchange, like, hey, ideas, and, like, stuff, y’know just to annoy the Chinese, who have in effect commanded the President not to receive the DL, but one never knows. The fourteenth incarnation of the Dalai Lama posing in the White House is no more significant than Elvis visiting President Nixon, and no more substantive.
The President didn’t wear a tie for the occasion, but then, neither did the DL.
The last time the DL visited the President he (the DL, not the President) had to leave by the back door, next to the Presidential garbage cans, The Garbager Can-ers of the Free World. Well, hey, can you claim that of your garbage can?
The Dalai Lama, channeling Oprah Winfrey, said of his visit to our own Dear Leader that “we developed a very close sort of feeling for each other.” Good grief, couldn’t these two just Facebook each other?
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Governor Rick Perry, a Methodist, is being sued by something styling itself the Freedom from Religion Foundation because he plans to spend a day in prayer at the holy temple of Reliant Stadium, nee’ Enron Field. When you think of prayer you just naturally think of Reliant Stadium’s home plate.
If the Dalai Lama shows up, maybe to share some Green Beret stories with John Corapi, will the Freedom from Religion Foundation call off the lawsuit?
This event is being hosted by the American Family Association, which is wonderfully vague. The prayer service is billed as non-denominational and folks are encouraged to come and bring a Bible and a notebook (is the material testable?). No mention of a Rosary, though.
Governor Perry has urged other governors to declare the 6th of August a day of prayer, which implies that the 5th and the 7th aren’t. We’ll have to check in with Fred Phelps and the good folks at Westboro Baptist to see if all this caesaropapism stuff is cool with the 10th Amendment.
We haven’t heard if some large guys in leathers and Tats for Jesus are going to rip apart telephone books. Perhaps that’s how St. Paul got the attention of the crowd at Ikonium.
Security could be an issue at St. Reliant Stadium – rumors abound that Rupert Murdoch is going to try to hack in to Governor Perry’s Bible. This would be pretty easy since Rupert owns Zondervan, said to be the world’s largest publisher of Bibles. How’s that for news of the world, eh?
And speaking of security, we can only hope no one falls from the bleachers while trying to catch a pop Our Father.
The Secret Service may have to be deputed to guard the first-base ikon of the Theotokos from metal thieves.
And when the 6th of August ends, will folks leaving Notre Dame de Reliant Stadium consider the old, old question: “What went ye into the desert to see?”
-30-
Showing posts with label Dalai Lama. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dalai Lama. Show all posts
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Buddhists and Tradesmen Kindly Use Side Entrance
Mack Hall
Last week the King of Sweden wore a baseball cap and Tiger Woods didn’t, pretty much altering everyone’s perception of reality to the point that some geologists fear a shift in the planetary poles.
Baseball caps are the sort of thing Europeans sneer at for being, well, American, but there His Majesty was, in all his plebeian non-glory. One wonders what “Made in China” is in Swedish. One imagines a King of Sweden on holiday wearing not a ball cap but rather some sort of alpine hat with a feather, or maybe a herring, sticking out of it.
The look-at-this photograph of the week, though, was of the Dalai Lama being escorted out a side door and through a 21-garbage-sack salute of the weekly White House garbage. A sort of Via Garbagossa. Would the D.L.’s fellow Buddhist Tiger Woods be dismissed from The Presence in the same way?
One cannot be sure, but the Dalai Lama looked to be carrying a Wal-Mart dvd collection.
The Dalai Lama’s host and hostess were once promoted as an echo of the elegance of the Kennedy administration, but said echo is more like a bounce off a single-wide belonging to one of Bill Clinton’s Arkansas relatives.
The world’s fascination with the Dalai Lama is curious. He is more famous than Princess Di and featured on lots more tee-shirts, though Princess Di never owned slaves and the Dalai Lama did, up until he fled the Chinese. Whatever ill we may speak of the Chinese, they did end slavery in Tibet.
And now to speak ill of the Chinese: they keep trying to vet every other nation’s guest list. Anyone hosting the Dalai Lama is sternly disapproved of by the iron-jawed men (look in vain for a woman with power) in Peiping / Pekin / Peking / Beijing, and yet he is welcome in every sophisticated salon from Paris to Call Junction. Some of his hosts discreetly see him out by the side door, though, perhaps hoping the Chinese, who sometimes act like censorious old church ladies, won’t notice.
The fashion seems to be “Hey, look, we’re so cool we’ve got the Dalai Lama in our house. Hey, we’re not sure who he is are what he does, but, hey, like The Motorcycle Diaries and global warming, he’s like, y’know, all cool and stuff. And, like, hey, he’s cool with being sneaked out the side door and through the garbage, okay? It’s like, y’know, mantra and samsara and cool oriental stuff, dig? He’s like that.”
The Chinese response is a sinister glower which, translated from Mandarin to English, says, “Hey, just remember that we own you.”
The Dalai Lama does not wear baseball caps, though if he did the cap’s logo might read “Funded by the C.I.A.” No, no, your humble scrivener would never suggest anything so distressing, never, never, never; he’s just repeating mindless but amusing gossip.
Last week the King of Sweden wore a baseball cap and Tiger Woods didn’t, pretty much altering everyone’s perception of reality to the point that some geologists fear a shift in the planetary poles.
Baseball caps are the sort of thing Europeans sneer at for being, well, American, but there His Majesty was, in all his plebeian non-glory. One wonders what “Made in China” is in Swedish. One imagines a King of Sweden on holiday wearing not a ball cap but rather some sort of alpine hat with a feather, or maybe a herring, sticking out of it.
The look-at-this photograph of the week, though, was of the Dalai Lama being escorted out a side door and through a 21-garbage-sack salute of the weekly White House garbage. A sort of Via Garbagossa. Would the D.L.’s fellow Buddhist Tiger Woods be dismissed from The Presence in the same way?
One cannot be sure, but the Dalai Lama looked to be carrying a Wal-Mart dvd collection.
The Dalai Lama’s host and hostess were once promoted as an echo of the elegance of the Kennedy administration, but said echo is more like a bounce off a single-wide belonging to one of Bill Clinton’s Arkansas relatives.
The world’s fascination with the Dalai Lama is curious. He is more famous than Princess Di and featured on lots more tee-shirts, though Princess Di never owned slaves and the Dalai Lama did, up until he fled the Chinese. Whatever ill we may speak of the Chinese, they did end slavery in Tibet.
And now to speak ill of the Chinese: they keep trying to vet every other nation’s guest list. Anyone hosting the Dalai Lama is sternly disapproved of by the iron-jawed men (look in vain for a woman with power) in Peiping / Pekin / Peking / Beijing, and yet he is welcome in every sophisticated salon from Paris to Call Junction. Some of his hosts discreetly see him out by the side door, though, perhaps hoping the Chinese, who sometimes act like censorious old church ladies, won’t notice.
The fashion seems to be “Hey, look, we’re so cool we’ve got the Dalai Lama in our house. Hey, we’re not sure who he is are what he does, but, hey, like The Motorcycle Diaries and global warming, he’s like, y’know, all cool and stuff. And, like, hey, he’s cool with being sneaked out the side door and through the garbage, okay? It’s like, y’know, mantra and samsara and cool oriental stuff, dig? He’s like that.”
The Chinese response is a sinister glower which, translated from Mandarin to English, says, “Hey, just remember that we own you.”
The Dalai Lama does not wear baseball caps, though if he did the cap’s logo might read “Funded by the C.I.A.” No, no, your humble scrivener would never suggest anything so distressing, never, never, never; he’s just repeating mindless but amusing gossip.
Buddhists and Tradesmen Kindly Use Side Entrance
Mack Hall
Last week the King of Sweden wore a baseball cap and Tiger Woods didn’t, pretty much altering everyone’s perception of reality to the point that some geologists fear a shift in the planetary poles.
Baseball caps are the sort of thing Europeans sneer at for being, well, American, but there His Majesty was, in all his plebeian non-glory. One wonders what “Made in China” is in Swedish. One imagines a King of Sweden on holiday wearing not a ball cap but rather some sort of alpine hat with a feather, or maybe a herring, sticking out of it.
The look-at-this photograph of the week, though, was of the Dalai Lama being escorted out a side door and through a 21-garbage-sack salute of the weekly White House garbage. A sort of Via Garbagossa. Would the D.L.’s fellow Buddhist Tiger Woods be dismissed from The Presence in the same way?
One cannot be sure, but the Dalai Lama looked to be carrying a Wal-Mart dvd collection.
The Dalai Lama’s host and hostess were once promoted as an echo of the elegance of the Kennedy administration, but said echo is more like a bounce off a single-wide belonging to one of Bill Clinton’s Arkansas relatives.
The world’s fascination with the Dalai Lama is curious. He is more famous than Princess Di and featured on lots more tee-shirts, though Princess Di never owned slaves and the Dalai Lama did, up until he fled the Chinese. Whatever ill we may speak of the Chinese, they did end slavery in Tibet.
And now to speak ill of the Chinese: they keep trying to vet every other nation’s guest list. Anyone hosting the Dalai Lama is sternly disapproved of by the iron-jawed men (look in vain for a woman with power) in Peiping / Pekin / Peking / Beijing, and yet he is welcome in every sophisticated salon from Paris to Call Junction. Some of his hosts discreetly see him out by the side door, though, perhaps hoping the Chinese, who sometimes act like censorious old church ladies, won’t notice.
The fashion seems to be “Hey, look, we’re so cool we’ve got the Dalai Lama in our house. Hey, we’re not sure who he is are what he does, but, hey, like The Motorcycle Diaries and global warming, he’s like, y’know, all cool and stuff. And, like, hey, he’s cool with being sneaked out the side door and through the garbage, okay? It’s like, y’know, mantra and samsara and cool oriental stuff, dig? He’s like that.”
The Chinese response is a sinister glower which, translated from Mandarin to English, says, “Hey, just remember that we own you.”
The Dalai Lama does not wear baseball caps, though if he did the cap’s logo might read “Funded by the C.I.A.” No, no, your humble scrivener would never suggest anything so distressing, never, never, never; he’s just repeating mindless but amusing gossip.
Last week the King of Sweden wore a baseball cap and Tiger Woods didn’t, pretty much altering everyone’s perception of reality to the point that some geologists fear a shift in the planetary poles.
Baseball caps are the sort of thing Europeans sneer at for being, well, American, but there His Majesty was, in all his plebeian non-glory. One wonders what “Made in China” is in Swedish. One imagines a King of Sweden on holiday wearing not a ball cap but rather some sort of alpine hat with a feather, or maybe a herring, sticking out of it.
The look-at-this photograph of the week, though, was of the Dalai Lama being escorted out a side door and through a 21-garbage-sack salute of the weekly White House garbage. A sort of Via Garbagossa. Would the D.L.’s fellow Buddhist Tiger Woods be dismissed from The Presence in the same way?
One cannot be sure, but the Dalai Lama looked to be carrying a Wal-Mart dvd collection.
The Dalai Lama’s host and hostess were once promoted as an echo of the elegance of the Kennedy administration, but said echo is more like a bounce off a single-wide belonging to one of Bill Clinton’s Arkansas relatives.
The world’s fascination with the Dalai Lama is curious. He is more famous than Princess Di and featured on lots more tee-shirts, though Princess Di never owned slaves and the Dalai Lama did, up until he fled the Chinese. Whatever ill we may speak of the Chinese, they did end slavery in Tibet.
And now to speak ill of the Chinese: they keep trying to vet every other nation’s guest list. Anyone hosting the Dalai Lama is sternly disapproved of by the iron-jawed men (look in vain for a woman with power) in Peiping / Pekin / Peking / Beijing, and yet he is welcome in every sophisticated salon from Paris to Call Junction. Some of his hosts discreetly see him out by the side door, though, perhaps hoping the Chinese, who sometimes act like censorious old church ladies, won’t notice.
The fashion seems to be “Hey, look, we’re so cool we’ve got the Dalai Lama in our house. Hey, we’re not sure who he is are what he does, but, hey, like The Motorcycle Diaries and global warming, he’s like, y’know, all cool and stuff. And, like, hey, he’s cool with being sneaked out the side door and through the garbage, okay? It’s like, y’know, mantra and samsara and cool oriental stuff, dig? He’s like that.”
The Chinese response is a sinister glower which, translated from Mandarin to English, says, “Hey, just remember that we own you.”
The Dalai Lama does not wear baseball caps, though if he did the cap’s logo might read “Funded by the C.I.A.” No, no, your humble scrivener would never suggest anything so distressing, never, never, never; he’s just repeating mindless but amusing gossip.
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