Christ the King vs Everything Else

The King Who Did Not Bow Down



If I can think of anything even halfway worthy to write before Sunday's feast, I will try, or perhaps I will point to others, but after boning up on the Readings, best perhaps to Google both "Feast of Christ the King" and "Jesus Christ the Returning King" and I'll be back and (less?) obnoxious after Sunday. By the way, satan already wormed his way in on this day, via an attack on the bishops under the facade of an attack on CCHD.. Ignore him.

:-) I remember cousin and I singing this up in the choir loft. You, too?

Traditionalists vs The Catholic Church

A friend of mine who is quite ill could've done without this bs, which I copy and paste below -- he apparently fell for the word *Catholic* in the author's title:


"This was sent to me and I no nothing of the CCHD but It is worth checking into. I haven’t verified any of it but since it such a short time I am passing it on.
Carl

Dear Friend in Christ,
This Sunday, the USCCB will ask you to give your hard-earned money tothe Catholic Campaign for Human Development, a charitable fund which hasin the past been used to fund anti-life, pro-homosexual and pro-prostitution groups.Before donating money to this appeal, please take a few minutes to watch this video;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8n_YseZ7Cog As Catholics, we should always give alms to the less fortunate - but we should ensure our money is being spent responsibly and never on moralevils such as contraception, abortion, or the promotion of thehomosexual agenda.
God bless,Michael Voris~senior executive producer, RealCatholicTV.com
to unsubscribe from this and future mailings, reply to this message asking to be unsubscribed"
_______________________

Here is my answer to it all:

Dear Mr. Voris --
Since you do this publicly without the courtesy of inviting a Bishop to appear with you while you Bellarminites do what Jack Chick does to this Church, here's a public answer. There may be some need for reform even in this, but it'd be nice if Trads would just ...you know... speak directly to a Bishop (or the Pope, or even to a normal priest who might have the audacity to disagree), instead of sowing/instilling fear and hatred and confusion on the web --it makes me want to ask who's your daddy? Learn how to speak OF and TO the Church. Keep your disgusting slanderous *REFORM* away from lifelong-faithful Catholics who dare hang in here -- we don't want it. But especially keep it away from the Bishops. These are our apostles. That may not be how YOU see it, but that is how Christ sees it.

Dear Carl --
Trust the Bishops over armchair popes every time. There are people who hate this church (Christ's idea of it, that is) from within -- shocking, but true. If only it were only the liberal element.. it's not. Very important these days: You must always know something about what you pass along, if it involves Christ's Bride. Follow link after link until you either hit gold, or hear Pilate snidely asking "What is truth?" i.e., Is the Pope Catholic? Is the Catholic Church still Catholic? Can we trust bishops? Was the Council evil? Is the Catholic Church the whore of Babylon after all?

Catholics, you can donate to the CCHD. If the Bishops ask it, it's our holy duty to comply, and we can trust that the Holy Spirit will draw some good from it. If we do so or have ever done so errantly without knowing it, Christ won't hold it against us. Otherwise, approach legitimate clergy as if they are our God-appointed shepherds.

Conspiracy Theories vs Culture of Life

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We Have Seen a Great Light

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In the news:
Breast cancer screening is now recommended at age 50, and every other year instead of annually, ending entirely at age 74. Health care rationing has already begun? Sure, it's possible. And maybe it's stupid or thoughtless to say, but the only women (or men) I know who suffered or died from breast cancer were those who were diagnosed. Do I have to say it aloud, that sometimes med personnel keep digging and looking and looking and digging until they find something that fits some barely explicable level of warranting more digging and looking, and suddenly, there's a shadow a lump a mass or something suspicious? If folks with breast (/prostate/colon etc) cancer weren't screened, would they have lived just as long as they did after treatment that nearly killed them? Can any of us answer that definitively?

I'm fine with the guidelines -- I'm fine with all guidelines, because I won't let them run my life. If something's not hurting or misfiring, it ain't broke, so I don't see the need to go exploring. Having studied and worked as an LNA, I know for a fact that a lot of exploring is to ask for trouble. Mary Strahan, 85 (eighty-five.. eight and a half decades old..), however, is upset. The screening shouldn't stop at 74, she said to a reporter. I'm guessing Mary has no plan to die, so yes, she and all her octogenarian peers should be cancer-screened every year for the next millennium. I have noted more and more folks (or their children) who think they shouldn't have to suffer or expire in their 80s. The very possibility terrorizes them. Why? (And don't blame me entirely for asking "Why?" as our old pastor asked it, too.)

I'd thought we all read some biology somewhere along the way? We have a set of systems that wear out eventually! It's actually 100% natural. Sure, it's going to be ugly, and it's going to be sad. Life is a tremendous gift! We none of us part with it easily. But life as we live it on the inside, independent of bodies, doesn't stop here. Either that, or anyone who has ever prayed the Apostles Creed or the Nicene Creed is a liar, because whether we begin with "We believe" or "I believe" we always finish up with: (I/We) look for the resurrection of the body, and the life of the world to come (or "the life everlasting"). Do we or don't we? Christians can't believe abstractly in an abstract God.

We are in God's hands. We have read (pardon if I paraphrase), "I formed you in your mother's womb." If one of us was formed Personally by Him, we all were! And again, "I have carved your name on My palm.." "Should a mother forget her child, I will not forget you." Did we hear that? After the atoning (and sanctifying! freeing!) life, death, resurrection and ascension of the Lord Who is both God and man, and after the coming of the Holy Spirit of GOD sent to us at His request, after the Assumption of (the immaculate but exclusively human!) Mary, what more do we need to know that we are loved not just half to death but all the way, in this life as well as the one to come, forever? We are loved by the Alpha and the Omega! As in the First Reading for today, we have heard before, "Do not be afraid." To be afraid of anything or anyone but God and to subvert His Truth is to make yourself servile. Jesus came that we may have life, and have it abundantly. He came to ransom us from sin, but also from our own prisons. He didn't die to give us 15,000 new Shoulds. If anything, we should rather be screening out contraception/abortion which is all made of sin. We should rather be 100% afraid of that death.

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Thought for the day:



Some of you may have noticed that I began to yell at a (seemingly self-filled Trad) priest yesterday and changed my mind? Yep. It was cold outside. It doesn't have to be cold inside, despite the fact that he calls a Bishop a liar and other things which not even most clergy seem to pick up on, though some do, I assure him. Christ the High Priest deserves a priest who puts Him first, and so do Christ's little ones. And speaking of global warming, is that why it's sunny and in the 50s here in what is New England's usually f-r-r-rigid November? Then how can I fear it? It's warm.. those little bugs that fly up and down up and down up and down are dancing.. the ducks are quacking.. I'm in love for the 3000th time. I'm going to get off here and go make goo-goo eyes at the river. Last time I did that, some fearful person called the cops on me. If that happens again, I'll demand the name and telephone number and invite the overly-cautious do-gooder to behold God's beauty with me. It restores a lot of what the God-less spirit of the world steals from us all.

Prayer request

**Update
Your prayers reached Heaven, praise God and thank you. Today, daughter went to bring her a stuffed animal she got her yesterday and a card everyone signed from a dept. in another city, too. The young woman is on morphine and other things and is doing alright; they may release her today. The docs were able to save her index finger (as best anyone can tell right now), although not able to save half of the middle, 'though they were able to cover it over after grinding down some of the bone. The person who feels most threatened over this accident is trying to get others to say the machine is always turned off when being cleaned, but that was not what was taught the temps.. At any rate, right now, it's turned out as well as it could --far better than what the young man who retrieved the fingers thought possible. Honestly, this is the difference prayer makes, (just as did going down on one's knees in the parking lot and begging Mary to intercede, loosened and un-deeped a fish hook in a little boy's eye once so that surgery was suddenly not indicated and his eyeball had only a little red mark.) And perhaps one of the things that everyone but daughter and this girl will have missed is that a fellow but years-long temp co-worker, an older man who has no one and nothing (and shows up when a woman's son is sent to Iraq and asks if she needs anything and gets together a box to send him), went in the ambulance with her, stayed throughout her surgery, and waited with her until her family could get there. Most people are amazing people, aren't they--and some are downright grand --like shining from shook foil.

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A young co-worker of one daughter lost some fingers to the shredder-baler at the end of the workday today; a young man retrieved them and put them on ice to send to the hospital with her. To my present knowledge, there's every possibility they could be fruitfully reattached, and that's the specific prayer I'm making.. but others of you will know what best to pray for, and thus, I ask you. Thank you.

Culture of Health vs Culture of Life

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We Have Seen a Great Light

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In the news:
Illness, suffering, death, medical care-- and why to defer mammo/foot-o/anything-ograms.

My husband went off his bp meds. "He's a walking time bomb!" "He's got to start taking proper care of himself --he's going to die!" "Don't you let him do that; he's got a family!"

My husband went off his bp meds years ago, and what he is, is no time bomb, but a mostly very well-feeling happy man--now de-enslaved to a doctor--who wants to live his own life on his own terms. I agree! This is his life. He feels it's been a good one, but it wasn't good while he was enslaved, and he made the decision. I was pretty astounded to first find out he'd not refilled what I usually refilled for him after all. I asked him about it, and then he told me that after all the tests and medicatings and new appointments being set (every 3 mos.. then 6 mos..) and being prescribed something additional to counteract the new water retention -- pills that made him feel very tired and which were beginning to bother his wallet as well -- he said, "That's it. No more." He felt the doctor hanging over him every day, and it felt like a parent. Neither of us do well with a parent-type hanging over us. We're adults.

I felt the same way about his life being his, back when we married. He could've made a fortune in his original C.E. field rather than in housebuilding/carpentry, and life would've been a breeze for us here at home, considering.. but he'd have hated being mostly indoors doing the same ol' same ol' day in and day out. I told him to do what he wanted to do, what he loved to do-- I wasn't marrying his wallet. Only once did I change my mind on that for a few minutes and have a regret. We all hit the wall somewhere along the way, and I did. It wasn't the kids' dentist's secretary yelling at me years before in the reception room for not paying in full, 'though that sort of thing always gets to me. Nor was it when we'd had to empty the slowly built and relatively little savings account to bury my mom. And the kids would surely have their own complaints, having to always file for grants, scholarships, financial aid, and student loans along with the Plus loans we paid for them.

But no, I still had no real regrets about our decision for him to do what he loved to do -- until around the time he accidentally flung himself off a new roof to the concrete foundation below, which shattered his entire right side. Months into his recuperation, I brought him to the work site for the guys to see (for his sake) that he was okay, that he was gonna make it. As we turned to get back in the car, my arms around his waist (sans the gait belt just for the day) as he inched his way along with the one-handed metal walker, I looked back in time to see his co-workers' ashen faces-- and his very tough New England boss crying. Being a civil engineer didn't sound so bad this day.

After the 3 weeks of hospitalization after two surgeries and treatment for an enormous blood clot, and after months of re-knitting and a great deal of physical therapy, we were all hoping to restore a little more mobility to the double compound-fractured arm full of metal now, with a third surgery. Pre-op heart tests, however, showed that somewhere in all the excitement, he'd had some sort of heart *event* as well (it would be too thankless to sue anyone for missing that; for God's sake, they saved his body), and now, his bp was very high a good deal of the time. He'd decided 65% ROM is good enough anyhow, since he could swing a hammer just fine one day, and he had no pain and surely didn't want to risk his luck. Since he can't bring his right hand to his face nor fully straighten the arm, he learned to write, eat, shave and snap photos with his left hand. He bicycles despite the metal femur/hip, the new kneecap, the snapped tendon, and then he found out he could still run, too -- if he wanted to. Each new dare to himself has been rewarding.

Including being off the last of his meds for about 7 years, now. He's been back to work full time for years. More than full-time, actually --and weekends. He's strong as a horse, and eats what he wants. Neither of us has a doctor, and neither of us wants one. That draws frowns every whichway, as do my non-checkups, non-medical anything until some crisis. We both feel that with early detection, sometimes the cure is worse than the disease. We have been very lucky, too, no doubt --some folks have zero choice about imposed health care. But while we truly do have the choice despite some rather imperfect conditions, we want to live, for as long as we live. We none of us can prevent our dying; but on that day, we can say we lived.

Culture of Satan vs The Church

A bonus post, perhaps only for those of us who are avoiding post-weekend vacuuming.

It seems to me satan is really stretching these days to unnerve folks right where they live the best: At Mass.

Fearful Generation
Avoiding holy water fonts, are we? We weren't baptized with 3 drops of Purell, we were baptized with blessed water, blessed so that it now has a holy character and imparts a grace. To dip into the font and bless oneself is a reminder of one's baptismal promises to renounce satan and all his pomps. All his facades, too -- such as this swine flu bogeyman that dares enter our Church. We don't often think of holy water as having physically healing properties, but we very easily imagine it contains killing properties? Whose work is that? Whose machinations would try to tell us there is some perceived evil lurking in holy water? We were claimed for Christ on that day of our baptism. Christ and we have the same enemy, which is why He plunged right into the not-exactly-pristine Jordan. Later, He said for us not to be afraid of what can kill the body. We're neither seeing nor hearing. (Uh, give me a few more minutes on that question, Lord, about finding any faith left on earth when the Son of Man returns, for it seems we save our lives at the expense of upholding Yours.) Peter, help us --we, too, are thinking like man.

Closed Generation
Jesus stuck His fingers into a deaf and mute man's ears and then spat -- spat! -- into his mouth. He laid His hands on withered limbs to straighten them. He had no problem with a hemorrhagic woman touching Him, and He spat -- spat! -- into dirt and then applied it to a man's blind eyes. At supper, a man laid upon His very breast. Yet we are aghast at hand-holding during the prayer He gave us?? Now we have a physical reason to avoid it. Bravo, us. But I recall in so many church meetings and RCIA what hand-holding during the Lord's Prayer felt like, and not least of all to the catechumens and candidates. They considered it more love. Amen. If Holy Mother Church says no to this in Mass, then the no shall stand until and unless she lifts it via Her Bridegroom's Vicar; she is a wise mature woman who sees what we cannot. But we know when we're applying no for our own reasons. So, we'll go to the second half of the touch-complaint.

I'm uncomfortable with the Sign of Peace, maybe because I'm from New England. When someone even asks us how we're doing, we've found a way around it: "Not bad." "Can't complain." We should just say, "Dude, you're too close" or "Nothin' to see here, folks, keep movin." I'm not sure I'm exaggerating a lot, so you'd think I'd be happy about the (herd-of-)swine flu stomping in to save me from touching/being touched during the Sign of Peace. No. Mostly no. The Sign of Peace is an ancient sign of unity, a yes to receiving His peace, which the world cannot give. Purell comes in pocket-size. Bring it, use it, but do touch me as I, you, because I never ever smile and give/receive a hand and say, "Peace be with you" outside of Mass, and I'm not likely to--and yet my soul can't live without this very touch. And neither can a great deal of elderly folks whom no one touches anymore except medically. Just do it!

Blood-less Generation
They've taken the Cup away again. I'm dying of thirst, dying to communicate with the One Who shed this Blood to communicate with me. Give it back. Before Transubstantiation, it's 22% alcohol. Deadly to germs. After Transubstantiation, it's 100% our Lord. He'll guard us. What did He always say? "Only have faith.." People can avoid the Cup if they wish, since we receive Him fully under either Species, and if we're sick, we will avoid the Cup. But give us the option. After all, we risk kissing our spouses and grand/children despite their percolating drizzles to come.

We (especially) oughtn't to be so blind when satan comes on scene and says the opposite of what Jesus did about laboring to save our life. And this is the true smoke of satan having entered the Church: Moving us away from God's elements during the Saviour's Holy Mass.

Banish satan and his remnant hatred, not the Lord and His evergreen victorious love.

Mapping vs Culture of Not-Mapping

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We Have Seen a Great Light

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All the news that's fit to show billions:
Years ago I watched a show in which (martial) law enforcement could zoom in on your house, street view and everything, right up to your patio, and maybe into your windows. It spooked me. I said, "We're not far from that right now!"

Well, a couple days ago, a friend sent me a Google Earth link to her house in Canada, and asked about mine. Indeed, she had viewed mine. It spooked me. I'm the kind of person who puts off even the Census Bureau until they send out the Kneecapper Special Ops. I'm not here -- just let me and mine blend in with the trees. We'll leave everything the way we found it. Bye, now!

I'm private. I didn't speak to my mom until I was 3, and that was only to ask if she was under the bed. She was. She was private, too. We labored under the delusion that America was the land of The Private.

I'm spooked for real. Friend and I talked about it.. the youngsters aren't spooked by all this--it's just one more thing you can do online, i.e., "Cool --look where my friend in NZ lives!" Great.

I'm just really really glad Google wasn't mapping on some morning when I dashed out just before the recycling trucks came by, with a bit extra for the bin. Usually, it's one of those deals where I'm thinking no one will have seen the cerise sweat pants with the aquamarine robe atop those and the white socks and quick loafers. (Heh, maybe next year billions will?) I'm not a morning person. I'm not a Google Earth person. I'm not a youth. I want some illusion of privacy!

Thought I'd just say that where billions could see it.
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Thought for the day:
I just hope it doesn't all end up similar to today's first reading.

Maybe I'm just old. I am definitely disillusioned.

But similarly to how G. Gordon Liddy ate a rat so as to conquer his fear of them, I Google-Earth'd my own address and a few others'. And I'm dressing better these mornings. And so should you.
:-\

Sunday vs Culture of Death

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We Have Seen a Great Light

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In the news:
Some good news here. It may be mostly temporary, but we climb a step every day nonetheless. The fight is on..

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It's Sunday:
God's day. I will be quiet, except to say Thank you very much! to the new folks who've linked -- you are brave, and it's a great vote of confidence-- perhaps enough to help me behave myself. Well, we'll see. Have a look in the side panel's Greater Candles-- I am so thankful these and others are around.

Immodesty vs Culture of Life

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We Have Seen a Great Light

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In the news, as in the pews at times:

Skin.

Way too much skin. Yes, too much even for us women. We're not dead. We never have been.

Adam and Eve (Eve-- EveEveEve --not Steve!) were naked. It was no problem to either of them until the serpent came on scene. And some daring folks think it still isn't a problem to run around with (and/or without..) a fig leaf. Well, it's a problem; our post-serpent fallen nature says so, in soooo many ways. I have laughed at Victorian man's reaction to a well-turned feminine ankle (it was all he could see, other than eyes)-- and not least of all when I picture what a girl's entire exposed abdomen and spinal tattoo might do to him; but I can identify, too. Since I am still in the clay and not a complete stranger to carnality, I sometimes find that I can't even look at a guy's hands or wrists or jawline without my traitorous heart skipping a beat; thus, to see the very back of his summer-thigh is (to put it the only way I can) the equivalent of pushing his wife and my husband down a small flight of stairs. It's 1000 times worse for guys to view the same in feminine form, I hear.

The only way for me to get through such a baffling and mostly unwelcomed moment is to see God's Hand in it. Poor Jesus.. He was stripped for such moments, and He knew He would be. He would redeem us-- both head to toe as well as on the inside, but it cost Him..it cost Him so dearly. And indeed, God made the human form -- "male and female he made them" -- and made us to be attracted to it. Didn't Adam squawk, even though he had God and all the things in the world-- except one of his own humankind. And God made us mutually attract-ive by our very differences; there'd be no reproducing if not! So, I ultimately thank God for hairy moments, which I try to keep down to dull roar without wearing actual blinders, and apologize if I've even come close to coveting--and I spare a priest only the silly details on Saturdays. My mom would simply smack me upside the head, and remind me of her favorite word: Moderation.

Moderation suffices, yes. It does. Before one gets to a sense of moderation (and wisdom), one might go off the deep end. I recall when I was in my mid-20s, I realized -- via this new Entity in the Bible with Whom I'd fallen so strangely and cleanly in love -- that I had tormented many guys with my own exposure of skin, with my long blond hair, and all sorts of magical little flourishes. I truly regretted it. One day a few weeks after recalling all my errors and misuse of the feminine form (which can happen within marriage, too), I went into the bathroom and cut my hair. I cut it into a short shag, and trust me, I can't cut hair. Then, I found all my black items. Black slacks, black top, black blazer. All bangles and big hoop earrings and anything sparkly or aromatic went the way of the nail polish. I was mortified. Look at that, I thought: Ugh. I got the kids ready to come to the store with me, and as we walked down the street, I noted cars slowing down both oncoming and sidling beside me.. I looked over, and guys were staring. It was so ridiculously consistent, I wondered if perhaps I looked like *someone.* When they -- even the cops -- kept staring even after I looked them full-faced so they'd know I wasn't whom they'd thought, I thought maybe this was satan's little chuckle. I complained: "Lord, I'm trying to offer You something here, my own humble invisibility -- a penance -- and it's back-firing. What's going on?"

Well, He is the Originator of the word "moderation." That's what women on here who advise other women how to dress are aiming for: femininity, but moderatedly so! This will help both guys and gals, yes. Of course, that can be carried to an extreme, too. Except for 3000 incinerating days over a couple of weeks in July, it's fairly useless to wear a dress in New England. To be all hunched over gripping your shoulders while your teeth are chattering still kinda dresses you as a bus-driver. And to moderate that to a 50-lb denim jumper only serves to remind you of your heritage of having once dressed in caribou carcasses. A woman it doesn't make.

I have a lovely dress hanging out there in the front hall which, like my mother before me, will look wondrous on me at my funeral. And wearing a beret in lieu of the old veil (and even older pillbox hat) to Mass left me feeling like something in a pinball game. I'm too cool for that. I need to find my own moderation, so that I don't disrupt the least thought, yet also don't come off as Nanook's great-grandmother (/-grandfather). One good go-to person for holy moderation is Mary. (And for guys, Joseph.) And that's a predictable statement, sorry, but it's true --as is the fact that both femininity and masculinity come from within. Hey, even the caribou-carriers married and multiplied, you know? Clothes do not exclusively make the man or the woman.

On the other hand, I truly don't believe that either the blessed virgin, Mary, or her virginal spouse, Joseph, would totally advocate shapeless robes for both men and women. We don't need to hide all of that which differentiates us; to see lovely small arms around your neck or rocking a baby is the God-given tiny softness men need, and to see broad shoulders and a stance that says "You will not harm my loved ones" is the God-given strength women need.

We all just need to make sure no one falls down the stairs.

Please.

Unity vs Culture of Death

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We Have Seen a Great Light

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In my news:
Here's what I received today in snail-mail from a Lay Missionary of the Gospel of Life, but let me fill in some blanks first: I only heard from one person once, about a year ago, when she was making her promises--I was invited to the Mass in which she would make them. And that came a year after I'd inquired and never heard again from anyone at M.E.V. except to receive a packet in the mail and a Missionary email now and then before I deleted the email account. The emails demanded we all join the group blog AND contribute/share there, and do and listen to and show up at other things and read a few books pretty much mandatorily. The prayer requirements alone were more than the Secular Franciscan Order asked, and one publicly promises the promises (as well as puts them into writing) --there is no private means of doing so. It's not even a Religious Order! Meanwhile, the program came into disfavor in its diocese and had to disband. It reorganized; apparently, it's squared away, now --or so I'm presuming. More than a year ago, before I received the promiser's invitation out of the blue, was when I first wrote to the head of the program (and again about a year ago) to say I was no longer interested, though I didn't mention that it was due to Fr. Pavone's and now his Missionaries' pushy demands and tactics. I never heard a thing back either time from anyone. I unsubscribed then, and months later, deleted the account.

She puts her address as a city here in my little state and sent this on the 6th, it says-- and I just got it today? It's in the form of a memo --there is no "Dear ____":


As the _________ State Missionaries of the Gospel of Life representative, I have been asked to contact you and *find out if you are interested in the Missionaries of the Gospel of Life; and if you want to continue to get e-mail information. This assumes you are getting ____'s e-mail message. (*That sentence was underlined.)

It would help me out greatly if you would respond because I have been asked to continue to contact you until I get an answer from you one way or the other. It would save us both a lot of time if you simply responded. (If I'd responded *simply* while reading that, I wouldn't be able to tell you what I'd said.)

I hope to hear from you with a "Yes."

If you have a change in phone number or want to include your phone number... (etc)

(It is signed only with "Life in Christ" before her name, and there's a handwritten "PS: The e-mail address I have for you ___________ kept coming back 'system failure'." Well, hello--'twasn't I who was sending back those emails!)
__________________

You know what? I'd like to have helped. A large group effort is desperately needed, but now they can direct their snottiness to the abortionists instead of to me. This is not the military, and I am not a number to move around..

Well, that was my first thought. About an hour later, I wondered why this missive came today -- or came at all, after all this time. Is it Providential? Should I re-think this? After all, it's for the babes and their moms and dads.. Can I open-endedly take this ration of silt for them? I really don't want to go this route-- I've dreamed of giving promises to Francis alone; but there is no other large Catholic group that is bulldog enough to help slow down the abortion chimneys. And isn't this what we beef about -- that we need to get organized against Planned Parenthood et al -- that we need teeth in everything we do for pro-life, now?

Indeed, sometimes the light hurts your eyes. Or your pride.

I'm going to say "Yes" --but maybe I'm going to sign it "Rodney Dangerfield."
;-)
If you're ready to say Yes even without that, here you go.