I Shall Be Released

Sunday morning. Maybe not always a day for worship but certainly a day for reflection. While many of us go to a house of worship  many others go to the networks to hear the nattering heads make sense of the weeks events. They'll be talking Libya and Japan this week. Back and forth they'll go. How do you create democracy? What do you do to prevent or mitigate natural disasters? Is nuclear power safe? They'll babble-on puffed up with the majesty of their own revealed word. They will spin a mighty tale about the horrors, or bet money on, the safety of nuclear power. They'll wonder aloud why it is so hard to get democracy to take root. Some will blame Obama because it's their job to blame Obama. Blame for what I'm not sure. Others will just defend their point of view sans interest in facts or morality.

I'm not interested in blame. Not on Sunday, not during the week. I am interested in numbers though, even numbers that are only accurate estimates. Numbers like 250, 7,500, and 250,000. If you didn't know those are the death tolls for the earthquakes in New Zealand, Japan and Haiti.

Hallelujah!

I had to modify this post. Originally it was just about the glories of Sunday mornings off from work and the joy of Hollandaise sauce. In view of the event in Japan that seemed cavalier and more than a little tasteless. Instead my agnostic soul  hopes that I am just wrong. I hope there is a reason for the pain, redemption for the lost, and comfort for those left behind. A secular song that feels more spiritual than most religious songs is all I have. (the original post follows)




I love Sunday morning. As I have repeatedly said nothing is quite as spiritually satisfying as breakfast out. Food just tastes better when people make it for you. It also tastes better when you cover it with hollandaise sauce like the Irish benedict at Rafts in Haverhill.

Mmmm Irish benedict. Instead of english muffins use soda bread. Instead of canadian bacon use hash. Instead of poached eggs use poached...oops! brain freeze absolutely use poached eggs. Finally drench the whole thing in hollandaise sauce. Mmmm Hollandaise sauce.

Bloody Marys

It's Sunday morning. Maybe you need a little hair of the dog. Maybe a little brunch. Maybe... hey this is America, we should be at our respective houses of worship! (I choose Linda's at the beach. Nothing says almighty power like a lobster benedict, side of hash browns, and a grilled cinnamon roll). Worship doesn't mean you have to cancel the party though.



Hey, it's Mardi Gras. Since when does spirit and jazz not mix?



Okay! You want a traditional approach fine!



Ah come on, more country? Really?



Well if we're all going to be fussy about our worship I'll take...



I do indeed love me some Patsy Cline. America, you can do anything 10 different ways and as long as you aren't hurting anybody you should be left alone. It's true of your choice of worship, your choice of political belief, your choice of music, your choice of art, hell, even the way you make a Bloody Mary.

Sunday Morning.

Everybody wants you to take sides. You're a liberal. You're a Conservative. Socialist! Fascist! Communist! Anarchist! What... everrrrrr! Don't you just get tired of it. The God thing is the same way. Christen! Jew! Muslim! Atheist! What... everrrr! I know, I know, being an Agnostic is wishy washy middle of the road stuff. Yeah, yeah, the only thing in the middle of the road is yellow lines and dead animals. Oh well, I'll take my chances.

Now if we picked our religion by who has the best tunes... well that's a different story. Sorry Hindus, Oh well Buddhists, later Church of Bob, and have you ever been to a jamming atheist party? It's nothing but German death metal and rolling in broken glass. You up for that? I didn't think so.



Now that's what I'm talking about. Christianity has got the tunes. Oh yeah! I am definitely sanctified today!

As for breakfast there will be no cooking for this guy. I'm shooting down the road to Al's Diner. By the time I sit down Kelly will have a coffee and a glass of ice water in front to me. I'll pretend to read the menu so as not to seem too eager, but I'm having the #2 black board special. Over easy eggs, salami, capicola, provolone, on a Piro's Italian stick. I add the black pepper and the sriracha sauce. It's a party in my mouth. It's as good as sex and it lasts longer. Sorry ladies.

Plus, plus coffee, plus the Sunday paper, plus a grilled blueberry muffin, plus home-fries, plus more coffee, plus, plus,plus, I'm caffeinated now. Oh baby! it's a spiritual moment. Sorry Atheists.