A memo to the pope, cardinals, archbishops and bishops of the Roman Catholic Church working behind a mushroom cloud of incense to protect the institution and the predators instead of the victims of sexual abuse.
Jesus in Mark 9:42: “And whosoever shall offend one these little ones that believe in me, it is better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck and he were cast into the sea.”
It is way past time to mute the howl of the wolf and amplify the bleat of the lamb.
The Trump-Putin summit Monday was an unmitigated disaster for America.
Our president disgraced himself and our country.
Donald Trump cowered instead of confronted. He deflected instead of being definitive. He should have taken to task Russian president Vladimir Putin for attacking our democratic process.
Instead, he was weak and subservient.
The world may never know what the two said behind closed doors — neither can be trusted to speak the truth — but the subsequent news conference left no doubt that Putin was the dominant one.
He was by turns commanding and confident as he stood side-by-side with Trump, artfully mixing in occasional expressions of boredom or bemusement. Virtually unchallenged by Trump, he asserted that Moscow has “never interfered” in an American political contest and would not do so in the future.
There were almost too many ignoble moments to count in a news conference in which Trump disparaged the media, Democrats, an investigation led by one of his nation’s most esteemed lawmen that has produced more than 30 indictments, including a dozen against Russian military intelligence — while giving Putin the benefit of the doubt for his “extremely strong and powerful” denial of any interference in U.S. elections.
Trump also defied the unanimous conclusion of all U.S. intelligence agencies by saying “I don’t see any reason” to believe that Russia was behind the hacking of Democratic computer servers. The indictments against the 12 Russians made public Friday offered extensive detail of the Russian penetration of not only those servers, but of state websites and computers handling voter registration.
With Putin standing beside him, Trump called the investigation by special counsel Robert Mueller that produced those indictments “a disaster for our country.”
No, Mr. President. You are.
I have not posted on my world-famous Zeke Blog, the font of superlative prose and the zenith of humor, for sometime because I’ve been busy (1) searching for Godot, (2) wondering why all things are LeBron, (3) speculating why the impish Duchess Meghan would dare fancy a scandalized off-the-shoulder dress (how sinfully sordid!), (4) sending spy drones over Canada in preparation for a possible invasion, and (5) figuring out how Justin Trudeau and not Kim Jong Un is Bad Guy No. 1.
Speaking of folks named Kim, who has the bigger ass — Jong Un or Kardashian?
Outlined against a blue-gray May sky, the Four Horsemen ride again. In dramatic lore they are known as Famine, Pestilence, Destruction and Death.
These are only aliases.
Their real names are Trump, Mueller, Giuliani and Cohen.
What in the name of Stormy Daniels is going on around here?
March has served up more Nor’easters than tulips.
I don’t know whether to blame Donald Trump or Robert Mueller or Cecily Tynan or Hurricane Schwartz.
Some folks have the most redeemable, adorable qualities. They restore your faith in the human condition.
Then there are people like Cavan McDaniel, who likely won’t be named Humanitarian of the Year.
Cops in Florida say McDaniel assaulted a convenience store attendant with a barrage of hot dogs.
God, I hope she’s not a vegan.
According to a police statement on the arrest, witnesses told deputies that McDaniel was upset because the attendant would not sell him beer.
The victim then told deputies that McDaniel threw hot dogs at her and poked her in the face with a corn dog stick, leaving a red mark under an eye.
Another black eye for mankind.
Live long enough and you’re liable to see the improbable, hell, impossible become reality.
The last time the Philadelphia Eagles won a world championship I was 11 and listened to them beat the Vince Lombardi Green Bay Packers on the radio because the 1960 NFL title game was blacked out in Philly.
Then came Sunday night’s spectacularly astonishing 41-33 Eagles’ Super Bowl victory over the New England Patriots when both offenses were electrifying and both defenses rested their case.
This time there was no incredible Patriots’ comeback. This time QB12, also known as Tom Brady the G.O.A.T., didn’t pull it out with a miracle. Despite throwing for an incredible 505 yards, his Hail Mary went unanswered as his 60-yard heave on the final play bounced off a bunch of hands and onto the Patriots’ logo in the end zone.
The Eagles were champions of the world for the first time in 58 years.
Eagles coach Doug Pederson, a swashbuckling gambler who has evolved into a master play caller, outwitted The Hoodie. And Nick Foles was dropping dimes with aplomb and throwing deep with uncanny accuracy.
Tom may be beating Time but he couldn’t beat the Eagles.
For Philly was a team of destiny. And you can’t screw with destiny.