There’s a new fraternity for Christian men at the University of Kansas. Although the president of the new Beta Upsilon Chi fraternity does not elaborate on the religious beliefs of the organization, he says there are rules about alcohol use—abstention for members younger than 21 and officers during their terms, and that other fraternity members of legal drinking age may consume alcohol as long as it is not in excess and as long as they aren’t wearing the letters of the fraternity. Well, for publicity purposes, I hope they don’t use the Christian fish symbol in their logo, because they don’t want people to think that they drink like fish. But, when they’re trying to recruit members for the fraternity, they may want to emphasize the sobering Christian story of how Jesus saved the day by turning water into wine when the hosts ran out of booze during the wedding feast at Cana. The big question is: What Would Jesus Drink?
Listen to Paul’s interview.
“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players… One man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages. At first the infant, mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms. And then the whining school-boy… the lover, sighing… a soldier, full of strange oaths… the justice, in fair round belly… The sixth age shifts into… the pantaloon, with spectacles on nose and pouch on side… Last scene of all, that ends this strange eventful history, is second childishness and mere oblivion: sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.”
Although I’m calling this website “a personal memoir in flux,” it is also my hope that the various sections will be of interest to people, whether they know me or not. “Out on a Lim” shares short observations on day-to-day life. “Limerances” chronicles longer remembrances of things past. “Limoscenes” presents descriptions of the plays I’ve written to date, with production photos. “Images in Limbo” shows pictures of the aging process, of me with family and friends. “Limpets” are the non-human dogs in my life, and “Limitations” are tributes to people who are no longer with us. So here I am, past imperfect, present progressive, future tense. Let me know what you think. — Paul
The f-word has been used in the theatre, in the movies and on premium cable television, almost as long as the 18-year-old freshmen we are teaching at our universities this fall. Just listen to the way many of our students talk to each other on the streets, in bars and coffee shops, and sometimes even in the classroom before classes begin. So, really, what’s with this brouhaha over Saturday Night Live newcomer Jenny Slate accidentally uttering the f-word during the season premiere of SNL last Saturday? Are we all hypocrites at heart? What does the Bible teach us about “pharisaical scandal,” about those pharisees who publicly profess to be outraged by that which they privately practice? Phuck the Farisees!
I was awakened this morning, randomly, by one of the “Golden Oldies” on my iphone. There he was, Elvis Presley, in all his hip-swaggering glory, imparting great philosophical wisdom with just nine words—“I Want You, I Need You, I Love You.” I mean, Kierkegaard couldn’t have said it better. First you must want…from that want comes need…then out of the need comes love. Conversely, you cannot love that which you don’t need, and you certainly don’t need that which you don’t want. So what will I learn tomorrow, when I am awakened by Lil Wayne or Lady Gaga?
Okay, the morning paper reports another skirmish yesterday between the KU basketball and football teams. Turns out it’s “a dispute over a woman who used to date an athlete from one team and now dates one from another.” So who is this noirish femme fatale? Can we get her to write her tell-all memoirs? Give revealing interviews on FOX News? Pose for photos for SPORTS Illustrated? Run for student body president? Inquiring minds want to know.
A Kansas University sophomore basketball guard suffered a dislocated left thumb two days ago after a skirmish between members of the KU football team and basketball team. Did he by any chance step on any toes he shouldn’t have? So much for bipartisanship, in college athletics or anywhere else.
The roof of the 800-year-old church in Stratford-upon-Avon where Shakespeare is buried is caving in. Whatever else happens during the renovation of the church, I hope no one makes the mistake of disturbing the Bard’s remains. Be forewarned! The epitaph on his grave reads:
“Good friend, for Jesus sake forebear
To dig the dust enclosed here.
Blest be the man that spares these stones
And curst be he that moves my bones.”
“Sophia Loren is 75 years old today,” I said to my next-door neighbor, a graduating senior at the University of Kansas. “We should all look so good when we’re 75.”
He looked perplexed and said, “You want to look like a woman when you’re 75 years old?” Well, at least he didn’t say, “Who’s Sophia Loren?”
Peter and Paul are now without their Mary, our Mary. Like Puff, the Magic Dragon, she’s gone—on a jet plane, to a better place. Leaving us here, bereft, still asking the same old questions, still having a hard time hearing the answers which are blowing in the wind, still wondering where have all the flowers gone, still trying to convince ourselves that this land is really our land. Oh, babe, I hate to see you go.
So here’s a scene from my own remake of The Greatest Story Ever Told. The twelve apostles are having their Last Supper with Him. Seated on the far right is Judas, clutching a bagful of silver coins, campaign contributions which have poured in during the night from the far right.
Him: (Picking up a piece of bread) Eat, for this is my Body.
Judas: You lie! That’s gross! Who do you think we are? Jeffrey Dahmer?
Him: (Raising a glass of wine) Drink, for this is my Blood.
Judas: You lie! So now we’re vampires, too?
Him: Do this in commemoration of me.
Judas: Liar Liar Hip-Hop Pants on Fire! Liar Liar Pentecostal Tongues of Fire!