I finally screwed up this Friday past. Some fellows have been replacing the ceiling in our kitchen - tearing out the old one, cutting things up, hammering plaster, stirring up all kinds of dust, etc. It's been going on for days, which means that the kitchen is unusable when I'm ready for breakfast, which I am in the habit of eating. Daily. Without fail. I have some bananas and coffee out in the dining room, but that doesn't hold me for long. By early afternoon I was starving. So I went out to get a haircut, and afterwards, weak from near starvation, stumbled into the Mediterranean deli next door. (The barber recommended it: "Best gyros in town".) I ordered something called a Paradise Roll - some salami and other stuff wrapped in dough with olive oil and peppers and who knows what else dripped all over it. It was delicious. And the guy behind the counter really was Mediterranean, although I don't know from which side of it he hailed, the European or the African. All I know is that he was swarthy, his English was charmingly incomprehensible, and he didn't seem to want to kill me. The whole time I wasn't even thinking what day of the week it was. That happens when I'm hungry. This lack of focus sort of defeats the purpose of observing Lent. So I can't do a Sunday Thought because I feel like an unworthy scumbag. But I will be returning to the Mediterranean Deli.
So, a few links instead.
Culbreath's back again, this time on a Wordpress platform. He thinks the old days were better.
At Right Reason, Steve Burton reminds us of the 200th anniversary of the abolition of the slave-trade in England, and the Christian West's place in that narrative. It is a good place. Or at least better than anyone else's.
TSO quoted from something he was reading: "Somewhere in your genetic code is the tale of every plague, every predator, every parasite, and every planetary upheaval your ancestors managed to survive."
I used to draw the line at monkeys, but I'll move it if I have to. There are no parasite tales in my genetic code.
Lawrence Auster offers what he thinks is a simple, true and elegant proof for the existence of God. It has to do with chemical orbits and something called the "Rule of Eight." There is a follow-up.
At Laudem Gloriae, Christine gets crowned Queen for a Day, issues two royal decrees, and reports on an unhappy development in Portugal on the abortion front.
I guess I could make up for the Friday Lenten mishap by fasting on Easter. I could do a lot of things.