A Faded Piece of Papyrus Refers to Jesus’ Wife

New York Times

CAMBRIDGE, Mass. — A historian of early Christianity at Harvard Divinity School has identified a scrap of papyrus that she says was written in Coptic in the fourth century and contains a phrase never seen in any piece of Scripture: “Jesus said to them, ‘My wife …’ ”

Vision 1:

Last week I had a robocall tete-a-tete with Callista Gingrich.  Yesterday, Mike Huccabee shared his concerns with my poor, helpless answering machine.  I can’t understood how those two got my phone number.  They can’t be reading the same washroom walls.

Vision 2: 

Someone recently asked me, “What do you do for fun?”  Had this been a job interview, I might have replied, “Annual reports and newsletters.”  If confronted with a HR person, I might even have denied the existence of fun.  However the context of the question was purely social, so I was quite honest.  What do I do for fun?  I replied, “Be myself.”

Just yesterday my radio clock awoke me to the ghoulish chorus of “Carmina Burana.”  (That would have been a more appropriate start to a Monday.)  I had to wonder how often “Carmina Burana” was confused with Carmen Miranda.  Who is to say that a choir in fruit-salad head dresses, chanting “Chica Chica Boom Chic”, wouldn’t be apocalyptic, too? 

Hear for yourself:   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BNWpZ-Y_KvU but just add https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERYKzez97lA

It must be what Carl Orff really had in mind.

p.s.  And let’s not forget the historic significance of this day: https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/09/12/turban-decay/

Once again, the quixotic in me wouldn’t take the hint.  You would think that 12 years of rejections might have convinced me that I was not meant to be on “Who Wants To Be a Millionaire?”  During the Regis days, when the contestants were selected through a phone competition, I would take the initial test. 

 “Using your phone key pad’s numbers one through four, chronically list the following Secretaries of Labor…”

After passing the initial test (and I did, perhaps 100 times), the contestant would wait to see if he was arbitrarily selected to take the second test.  Once only did I get that chance.  Yes, I passed it–and received automated instructions to wait by the phone at a specified time to see if I would be invited to play on the show.   Complying with the dictated schedule, I took up the vigil–and then the electricity in my neighborhood went out.  However, the telephone was still working.  So there I was, sitting in the dark and waiting for a call that never came.  If that isn’t a sign, what is? 

And if I needed a further hint, I merely had to consider how easy it was for others to at least be among the ten contestants in each game.  A Jeopardy acquaintance expressed his amazement that I never got on the show at all; he had been on twice.  A friend of my wife took the audition only once–and got on.  She would win $500,000 but she did have a brilliant phone-a-friend.  Yes, six contestants requested me as their telephone sage.  Always a bridesmaid, never a bride…

But I hope that you don’t think I was content to sulk by the phone.  No, I am an active masochist.  I go out of way to be tortured, even as far as New York City.  In 2004, I went there with no other purpose than to audition for Millionaire.  Yes, I passed the test, then interviewed by a production assistant who missed her true calling as a prison guard, and dismissed with the promise of a postcard notifying of my fate.  In fact, I didn’t have to wait for that card; going to the Millionaire website, I saw the studio’s response.  The game had changed its rules to exclude me. 

No, I am not joking.  The following rule was added after my audition:

In addition, any individuals acquainted with any persons who are or have been connected with the production, administration or judging of the Program or the Primetime Program (defined below) are not eligible, if in the Producer’s sole discretion, the individual’s participation could create the appearance of impropriety. All eligibility determinations shall be made by Producer in its sole discretion.

You see, I did know someone on the staff–before she was on the staff, but what does that matter?  I still was guilty of the appearance of impropriety.  In 1990, a Jeopardy viewer had written me a fan letter. Didn’t Joan Crawford respond to all her fan mail?  Could I be any less polite?  So I wrote my fan back.  A casual correspondence began.  No nude photos were exchanged.  Once a year I would learn of her latest exploits at the Stamford Crossword Puzzle Tournament, and I probably regaled her with my latest aggravations.  The predictability ended in 2oo1, however, when she wrote to inform me that she had been employed as the Senior Researcher on “Who Wants To Be a Millionaire.”  Her news also included this death knell:  “So I guess you can’t be on the show.” 

Thanks for the guilt-by-association!   I had all the stigma of a groupie scandal without any of the  smirking gratification.  But I wanted to be on the show; and that is what I wrote her, ending our correspondence.  I did wait three years before auditioning for Millionaire; but evidently that was insufficient incommunicado.  Either that, or when asked by the producers she claimed to be my common-law wife and mother of my six children.  As if the show’s Eugene Finerman Exclusion Rule wasn’t a sufficient hint, I also received the mass-produced rejection postcard; and my name was misspelled.

I tried again in 2006, and I was relieved to discover that I have no attitude for becoming a psychotic mass murderer.  Believe me, that audition would have more than justified it….

https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2007/08/03/what-i-did-last-summer/

Of course, I earned another dehumanizing postcard.  Perhaps if you collect twenty, you get a commemorative t-shirt.  If so, I just need another 17.  In 2012, I again auditioned…with the same frustrating results.  From reading the show’s closing credits, I knew my aspiring groupie was no longer an employee; but the stigma may still linger.  

Yet, I will persevere, and audition again and again.  Why? Vengeance, of course!  My rage far surpasses my interest in the money.  I find myself quoting a certain charismatic character from Paradise Lost…

What though the field be lost?
All is not lost–the unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield:
And what is else not to be overcome?

Eucifer

Call it a gruesome coincidence (is there any other kind?), but I was thinking of the film critic Judith Crist just before she became the late Judith Crist.  As part of its day-long tribute to Claude Rains, Turner Classic Movies broadcast the melodrama “Mr. Skeffington”.  Rains, in the title role, portrays a wealthy older man married to a demanding young beauty–Bette Davis.  The film defies description because any objective appraisal would make it sound like a joke.  Yet, the two stars are so charismatic that you have to watch.  Whether it is intended or not, Davis and Rains are in a duel.  She devours the scenery; hysterics would be idling speed.  He has the most marvelous subtlety, the most eloquent understatement.  I would guess that the detonating contrasts in this 1944 film must have given J. Robert Oppenheimer some ideas for a science project. 

But I digress–as usual.  Why did the film remind me of Judith Crist?  I remembered her wry reflections on her changing impressions of the film.  Seeing “Mr. Skeffington” when she was 22, Crist was horrified that a vivacious young socialite would be married to such a boring old man.  At a second viewing, several decades later, Crist was horrified that a charming, attractive man would be married to such an annoying young idiot.

I am in complete agreement with Crist’s second impression. 

But I also feel obliged to praise Miss Davis in a performance she gave in 1943.  The film was “Thank Your Lucky Stars” and she played an attractive if demanding woman named Bette Davis.  For once, alas, her demands are unmet.  It seems that she has an even more demanding rival named Uncle Sam–who was taking up all the attractive men.  Who was left to take Miss Davis out to dinner?  As she laments…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iVAJTYMMO3M&feature=related

On this day in 1923, Grace Coolidge became First Lady. It probably was unavoidable that Calvin came along with her. Yet, she may have been his most redeeming feature. Why would such an attractive, charming woman have married the inanimate Calvin? There was no Coolidge fortune to justify such an apparent sacrifice. The man must have had some charm that successfully eluded the public.

How do I know of Grace Coolidge’s style and appeal? I don’t think that my mother would lie to me. My mother was eight years old when Mrs. Coolidge entered the White House, but even a child could see the contrast between the battleaxe Florence Harding and the lovely Grace Coolidge. And that first impression withstood the passing decades and my mother’s maturing judgment and her Democratic politics.

My mother lived from 1914 to 1992. She was too young to remember either Mrs. Wilson, and she shared the common dread of Flo Harding. You know that she liked Grace Coolidge. Although Louise Hoover was not a common topic of conversation, my mother had one consistent comment about her: “She was a very intelligent woman.” Louise Hoover was a Stanford graduate, fluent in Latin and Chinese, and a geologist by profession; she was in China during the Boxer Rebellion and 30 years later probably regarded that as one of the happier times of her life. (At least her husband hadn’t caused and exacerbated the Uprising.)

My mother revered Eleanor Roosevelt, seeing in her a great heart and the truest form of beauty. Even the charming Grace Coolidge couldn’t compete with Eleanor. Despite her political loyalties, my mother did not like Bess Truman. Did anyone–other than Harry? (Being married to that shrew may have been good practice for dealing with a World War, the Soviet Union, Korea and Joseph McCarthy.) My mother dismissed Mamie Eisenhower as a fatuous dolt; when hearing the rumors of Eisenhower’s infidelity, my mother didn’t blame him.

Would you guess that my mother thought of Jackie Kennedy as the Second Coming of Grace Coolidge? Then you are wrong. Jackie’s breathy voice always struck my mother as phony; no one with a college degree really sounds like that. My mother surmised that Jackie was a fortune hunter, and the Onassis marriage certainly did not refute my mother’s suspicions. But my mother did like Lady Bird Johnson, finding her a gracious lady. According to my mother, Pat Nixon was entitled to some pity; if she was Plastic Pat, being married to Tricky Dick would drain anyone’s soul. Neither Betty Ford nor Rosalind Carter made much of an impression on my mom; being nice and attractive are fairly rudimentary for political wives. However, Nancy Reagan certainly stood out in an ambivalent way. My mother dressed very well herself, and she had to admit that she liked Mrs. Reagan’s sense of style; on the other hand, Nancy was perceived as the evil influence on her husband, the succubus who turned an affable Democrat into a Republican. Unlike the media, my mother did not mistake Barbara’s haute callousness for humor or honesty; my mother–the librarian–had read enough Henry James to identify a WASP dragon. My mother did not live to see Hillary Clinton become First Lady but she might have regarded her as the modern Lou Hoover: “She is a very intelligent woman.”

By the way, in case you were wondering where I got my love of history and sense of humor….

London:  Today Mitt and Ann Romney met with Queen Elizabeth.  Mr. Romney warned Her Majesty, “Now, don’t you burn the White House when I am President.”  Adding to the hilarity of the moment, he then playfully punched the Queen in the stomach.  Mrs. Romney expressed her satisfaction with Buckingham Palace and told the Queen to get out.  “It’s our turn now.”  Following a minute or two of Mr. Romney’s nervous laughter, the Queen playfully hit him in the face and said  “Next time, bring the horse instead.”

Tel Aviv:  In a precautionary press release, the Romney campaign stated that “we acknowledge major differences between Obamacare and the Final Solution, so please disregard any comparisons that might be made.”  

Greeting the hundreds of Adelson employees flown in to applaud him, Mr. Romney exclaimed “It is great to be with people who appreciate money.  I have been told that our horse Ralfaca sounds like it has a Hebrew name.  Who knows?  Maybe it really wants to pull a junk wagon.”

The Romney campaign had no comment but agreed to pay for the stained glass Chagall windows that Mrs. Romney had taken from the Knesset. 

Warsaw:  In a preemptive press release, the Romney campaign denied that the candidate would ever use the word “Pollack or ask  how many it took to screw in a light bulb.”  However, any diplomatic gaffes were avoided when the Warsaw Airport, claiming to be Kiev, diverted the Romney plane with flight directions to Paris. 

A stunned Romney said, “But I admire the Polish people.  They have the same religion as my lawn service.”  Ann chided her husband, “I told you we should have landscaped our estates with Hermes scarves.”

The following are actual job offers for writers.  My comments may not be quite so serious.

We are currently in search of a Communications Manager for an Association in downtown Chicago .

POSITION TITLE: Communications Manager
SALARY: $15 – $17/hour, commensurate with experience”

In Mumbai, a 14 year-old is considering this for an after-school job.

Throughout most of the Middle Ages the only literates were the clergy. If Guinevere insisted on place cards for the Round Table, the clergy did the clerical. (Yes, the words are related.) Perhaps this company–offering that impressive $15 a hour–thinks that we writers still have vows of poverty.

Communications Consultant

WORK ENVIRONMENT
When applicable and appropriate, consideration will be given to reasonable accommodations.”

I may not be entitled to use a washroom but I would be within walking distance of an alley.

And if your underwriting is as good as your writing, Allstate has a position for you.

Qualifications

This position requires strong writing skills for and a working knowledge of financial and life insurance products and services. It also requires the ability to understand internal and external customers’ needs and to execute communication programs and plans to support them.

Series 6 license preferred.

Strong writing, communication and follow-up skills required”

So, I could be writing the company newsletter as well as estimates on car repairs.

But what are follow-up skills for a writer? I hope that means negotiations with film studios….”James Cameron and Martin Scorsese are both bidding on that home owners policy you wrote for the Weinblatt family. Scorsese would like to make the family Italian and guarantees you an Oscar nomination. Cameron prefers them to be extraterrestrial and is willing to throw in $25 million for the rewrite.”

Kvetching Bull or Avatorah?

 ‘Best in Show’ actor Willard accused of lewd act

Actor Fred Willard, perhaps best-known as a dog-show announcer in the movie “Best in Show,” has been arrested on suspicion of committing a lewd act at a Hollywood adult theater.  Los Angeles police Sgt. Mark Ro says uniformed vice officers were conducting a routine investigation of the theater shortly before 9 p.m. Wednesday and saw Willard engaging in a lewd act.

He says Willard appeared to be alone.

Why does this sort of thing have to happen in an adult theater?  I can assure you that I would only be arrested while watching a fine film…

“La Grande Illusion“:  You see, officer, I was demonstrating the infantry strategy of the First World War. 

“The Quiet Man“:  You see, officer, it was the fight scene between John Wayne and Victor McLaglen, and I was so excited to see two Republicans trying to kill each.

“My Dinner With Andre“:  You see, officer, I was just trying to stay awake.

 George R.R. Martin Gushes About Diana Rigg Joining ‘Game Of Thrones’

I hope not literally.

Ed Gillespie, one of Mitt Romney’s top advisors, tried to explain the candidate’s departure from Bain Capital by noting that he’d “retired retroactively.”

A campaign spokesman refused to decipher Mr. Gillespie’s remark, saying that “the profound and spiritual intricacy of a koan must be understood rather than explained.  Otherwise, it would be an insult to all the Buddhists of the world.” 

Three hours later, following the denunciations from Talk Radio, another campaign spokesman explained Mr. Gillespie was not a Buddhist and had never justified the attack on Pearl Harbor.  “In fact, retroactive retirement is a Christian concept.  It is exactly what Jesus did.  Let’s face it, after that Good Friday, how many lepers has He cured?  Yes, His name is still on the corporate stationery–but 1900 years is a little more than a leave of absence.  This is a retroactive retirement, and would you expect Governor Romney to do any less than Jesus did?”   

Two hours later, following the death threats, another campaign spokesman insisted that Governor Romney had not compared himself to Jesus.  “Obama is the one trying  to cure lepers, not us.”

Let’s not forget the historic significance of this day.  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/07/16/divorce-italian-style/