Preacher’s Status: Overwhelmed.
…Here is Reason #1,865 why it is impossible to take the Washington Post seriously. A quote from one of today’s editorials:
…The United States…is dealing with the omnipresent specter of another terrorist attack…
Would the word “threat” not suffice? Or even the phrase “constant threat?” Who hired someone from the Ministry of Truth to copy edit the Washington Post?
The truth is that there is only one Omnipresent Specter, and He does not appreciate blasphemy.
He will indeed terrorize the proud. But He will exult the humble.
He will reward those who treat the language with reverence. But the cheap word-mongers He will crush.
…On the other hand, this pro-life essay by Alveda King, niece of M.L.K., Jr., is worth reading…
…You know that I love LeBron as much as anybody. My dream in life is to be the LeBron James of priests.
LeBron got dunked on recently. No big deal. It was a silly summer-league game.
He got dunked on by a college player. No biggie. College players are awful good.
He got dunked on by a college player who was wearing Nike LeBrons at the time.
Then Nike confiscated the videotapes. Here is the dunker:
The Wizards’ pre-season trip to Europe, including Spain, reminds me of when I played international ball back in 1986.
My tenth-grade Spanish-class teacher was a Spaniard. He was kind enough to take some of his students on a trip to Spain, including Barcelona, which the Wizards will visit this week. One of the most beautiful places on earth.
During our trip, when we (fifteen cheeky St.-Albans’ boys, full of swagger) were walking through the Parque de Buen Retiro in Madrid, a group of Spanish teenagers challenged us to a basketball game.
We schooled ’em. I mean, we whipped them. It was wonderful. I think I even had a dunk. (There was a brief, precious period of my life when I could dunk a basketball. Just barely–no monster jams–but I could do it. I pray that I get to heaven, and then the good Lord will let me be able to do it again, and I will be throwing down tomahawks in the everlasting five-on-five.)
Anyway…After the basketball game the Spanish boys challenged us to a re-match, but in soccer. We thought: Soccer? Kicking that little ball around? No problem. You’re on! Si, si, amigos!
It was not pretty. They made us look like a bunch of flat-footed girls. What goes around comes around.