The salvation of the humble

The salvation of the humble is that hubris knows no limits.

Washington referees face ban for charity pink whistles

Bring the pink.

God, give me strength

For every last unrepentant cheerleader of might begetting right:



Do you really wonder how this thing ends?

The suspense is killing me.

And, Tom Friedman.

You cross my path and rationalize these mass murderering thugs to my face, pray I have strength that chance encounter.

Because, in the dark corners of my heart, I furiously want you to witness what real weakness looks like.

Something honest in an all-too-jaded world

This is the song that plays over and over again in my CD player and my heart, these days. I asked myself, reminded by a friend, today, why I like this guy's music so much.



And I guess what I like it about it, I suppose, is that in a world - and, in this song's case, a music world - that seems so driven by so many cynical calculations, Jack offers hope of something better.

Jack's music is heart balm for a world obsessed with jading itself and one another. And pretending that it has no consequence, outside of our various petty and self-centered agendas. He keeps my heart in the game. When most everyone else would kick it in the aortal teeth. He offers hope that the last say on the world is not what shitheads we can be in the name of our various causes and agendas. That maybe someone is making an effort to keep hearts and minds open. In a world full of efforts to twist and manipulate and otherwise wear down the heart.

All in the name of justifying the jaded hearts of cynics.

Something honest. In a world of ever self-justifying ego. Perhaps there just might be more to this world than meets the eye.