Project TROIKA
"Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound by victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures."
--Wm. Shakespeare, Richard III, Act I, Scene I

We have come so far and we are so close, yet there remains so much work to be done. Now is the winter of our labors, to be made glorious summer by the New Year, and every man a sun of York.

Grow or die.

Christ Mass
With a gaggle of nascent chums and acquaintances, numbering slightly more than a baker's dozen, I journeyed to Crossroads Village last Friday. We wandered the historic buildings, ate a sumptuous buffet dinner, and road the rails for a tour of the holiday lights. 'Twas a lovely evening, made all the more so by the bitter, bitter cold; as I shivered in my parka, tartan scarf, and knit hat (bearing Otis, the mascot of The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, and the letters "MMB"), I dearly wished I'd remembered my Finnish ushanka, inherited from Grandpa Wilson, God rest his soul. Rare enough are the chances I have to sport it, and here I squandered a golden and easily foreseen opportunity. Drat! The carousel was a delight, and the first I'd ridden since I visited Syracuse several summers hence for Alistair's wedding. I adore a carousel.

Most pleasantly of all, everywhere my fellows and I went the Crossroads staff (paid minions, volunteer docents, or a mix of both I cannot say) greeted us warming with cheers of "Merry Christmas!" Not the insipid "happy holidays" that has so undermined the glory and majesty of the season, but hardy declarations of "Merry Christmas!" As the train rumbled along and a voice from the front car (and I cannot say if it was a locomotive or a motor coach) narrated the lights we passed, he spoke "And here's a Lutheran church with a sign that reminds of us of the real reason for the season." Sitting several cars back, the narration was thirty to forty-five seconds ahead of what I was able to see, but soon enough I spied a nativity scene bathed in the light of bright bulbs spelling out "JESUS IS THE REASON." Glorious. So, my friends, enough of the incoherent, ashamed mutterings of "happy holidays." Celebrate the birth of the Christ! Rejoice that God came before men wrapped not in His Power and Terrible Majesty, but wrapped in swaddling clothes and bearing the humblest form of all. Have a happy, happy holiday, but forget not the holy day at the heart of all these holidays, Christ's Mass.

Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!

Vote For Kodos: The Kennedy Curse*
It was famously remarked in the 1962 Massachusetts race for the United States Senate that had Edward Moore Kennedy's name been Edward Moore, with the qualifications experience (or profound lack thereof) he had at the time, he would not have been considered a serious candidate for such a high office, and certainly would not have sat like a cancer in the Senate for all the many decades since. Ask yourself this: if Caroline Kennedy was simply Mrs. Edwin Schlossberg and not the last surviving child of a slain president, would not her demand to be gifted Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton's seat be greeted with jeers and laughter instead of the substantive discussion it merited today? Kennedylink.

Is not electing a man to the Senate principally on the grounds that one of his brothers happens to be president and another the Attorney General antithetical to the American ethos of judging a man by his own worth and achievements? Is it not patently ridiculous to contemplate seriously appointing a late-middle aged woman to the Senate principally on the grounds that when she was a very small child her father happened to be the president and her uncle happens to be a sitting Senator? Does not all this come perilously close to violating the spirit, if not the letter, of Article I, Section 9 of our nigh-sacred Constitution?

*I mean not that the House of Kennedy has been especially cursed by misfortune, but that those people have been a curse upon America since the day Hitler's biggest fan old Joe Kennedy bought his way into F.D.R.'s good graces. Ask the shade of Mary Jo Kopechne whom is cursed, the Kennedys or the innocents caught in their destructive, conscienceless wake.

The Rebel Black Dot Christmas Songs of the Day
The Brian Setzer Orchestra, "The Nutcracker Suite" from Elf: Music From the Major Motion Picture (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: A 7:31 medley by the ol' Stray Cat and his band of merry musicians.

Montag, 15 Dezember
Dance Hall Crashers, "North Pole" from The Old Record (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"Sitting in the North Pole,
It is really cold,
But I'm still waiting for you.
Sitting in the North Pole,
Feels like I'm getting old,
But I'm still waiting for you.
Waiting for you."