“The treatment for terminal cancer that Annapolis resident Mary Ellen Heibel took at Johns Hopkins Hospital in 2004 and early 2005 worked beyond anyone’s wildest hopes, wiping out malignant tumors in her lungs, liver, stomach and chest. Her doctor did not expect it, nor could he explain it.

“Surely the outcome was remarkable, but was it – in the sense applied by the Roman Catholic Church in such cases – a miracle?

“In a few weeks, a committee appointed by the Archdiocese of Baltimore will begin exploring that question, examining 11 witnesses, including Heibel, pressing her doctors, nurses and friends in an attempt to understand what happened. The findings gathered at the archdiocese’s downtown offices will be shipped to Rome, and ultimately will bear on a campaign to have Francis X. Seelos, the 19th-century Maryland priest to whom Heibel had turned in prayer for help, canonized as a saint.”

See HERE.

If you’re Italian and living in Italy, the chances are you regularly consult a sorcerer, healer or astrologer…according to new research from Telefono Antiplagio! One in five Italians make use of the services of sorcerers, mostly to get over a broken heart or for health reasons.

See HERE.

Thought for the day

June 30, 2009

“I write things on a page I don’t want to have to deal with in life. Writing is a safe vacuum for me because I’m not saying those horrible things to someone’s face. On the page, I can always find the great retort that doesn’t come to me at the right moment in life. I feel I have a kind of bravado in my writing I don’t have in life.”

Neil LaBute

st paul

It dates from the fourth century, was discovered during restoration work at the Catacomb of Saint Thekla, close to the Basilica of St Paul, in Rome, and depicts a man with sharp features, large dark eyes, a receding hairline and a long pointed beard set in a red circle which is set in a yellow circle – a man who, so it’s claimed, was the Christian apostle Paul!

Barbara Mazzei, the director of the work at the Catacomb, said:

“We had been working in the Catacomb for some time and it is full of frescoes.

“However the pictures are all covered with limestone which was covering up much of the artwork and so to remove it and clean it up we had to use fine lasers.

“The result was exceptional because from underneath all the dirt and grime we saw for the first time in 1600 years the face of Saint Paul in a very good condition.

“It was easy to see that it was Saint Paul because the style matched the iconography that we know existed at around the 4th Century – that is the thin face and the dark beard.

“It is a sensational discovery and is of tremendous significance. This is then first time that a single image of Saint Paul in such good condition has been found and it is the oldest one known of.

“Traditionally in Christian images of St Paul he is always alongside St Peter but in this icon he was on his own and what is also significant is the fact that St Paul’s Basilica is just a few minutes walk away.

“It is my opinion that the fresco we have discovered was based on the fact that St Paul’s Basilica was close by, there was a shrine to him there at that site since the 3rd Century.

“This fresco is from the early part of the 4th Century while before the earliest were from the later part and examples have been found in the Catacombs of Domitilla.”

See HERE.

Well, not only is H1 N1 Swine flu a “man made” strain of the virus, it’s now been linked to…wait for this…FRENCH FRIES!

It’s true!

“Scientists from Russia’s Ministry of Health are warning in a secret report to Prime Minister Putin that they have discovered a ‘critical link’ between the H1N1 influenza (Swine Flu) virus and genetically modified amylopectin potatoes that are consumed in massive quantities nearly exclusively by Westerners and sold in fast food restaurants as French Fries.”

See HERE.

Thought for the day

June 26, 2009

“Friends, every day do something that won’t compute. Love someone who does not deserve it. Denounce the government and embrace the flag. Give your approval to all you cannot understand. Ask the questions that have no answers. Put your faith in the two inches of humus that will build under the trees every thousand years. Laugh. Be joyful though you have considered all the facts. Practice resurrection.”

Wendell Berry

“The Mad Farmer Liberation Front”

More on Book Titles

June 23, 2009

tAtsbook

One of my favorite titles has to be: “I WAS TORTURED BY THE PYGMY LOVE QUEEN” which is about a World War Two pilot captured by jungle pygmies led by a sadistic woman.

Then we have: “Tattooed Mountain Women and Spoon Boxes of Daghestan”…a real page turner. Have I mentioned this little beauty? “THE BIG BOOK OF LESBIAN HORSE STORIES”…it’s a “must” have!

“Oral Sadism and the Vegetarian Personality” was a slower read, but what the hell, it was faster than “REUSING OLD GRAVES.”

“Excrement in the Late Middle Ages” I found very technical…one needs a good grounding in ancient crap really.

Well, in the US scientists have found that “males with a particular form of gene called MAOA are twice as likely to join a gang, compared to those with other forms”, this from “a new study of more than 2000 US teens. What’s more, gang members with these mutations are far more likely to use a weapon than other members.”

So there you go. The poor dears can’t help it. It’s not their fault. Blame it on mum and dad.

See HERE.

Have A Nice Day

June 23, 2009

‘Help, help, ‘ said a man. ‘I’m drowning.’
‘Hang on, ‘ said a man from the shore.
‘Help, help, ‘ said the man. ‘I’m not clowning.’
‘Yes, I know, I heard you before.
Be patient dear man who is drowning,
You, see I’ve got a disease.
I’m waiting for a Doctor J. Browning.
So do be patient please.’
‘How long, ‘ said the man who was drowning. ‘Will it take for the Doc to arrive? ‘
‘Not very long, ‘ said the man with the disease. ‘Till then try staying alive.’
‘Very well, ‘ said the man who was drowning. ‘I’ll try and stay afloat.
By reciting the poems of Browning
And other things he wrote.’
‘Help, help, ‘ said the man with the disease, ‘I suddenly feel quite ill.’
‘Keep calm.’ said the man who was drowning, ‘ Breathe deeply and lie quite still.’
‘Oh dear, ‘ said the man with the awful disease. ‘I think I’m going to die.’
‘Farewell, ‘ said the man who was drowning.
Said the man with the disease, ‘goodbye.’
So the man who was drowning, drownded
And the man with the disease past away.
But apart from that,
And a fire in my flat,
It’s been a very nice day.

Spike Milligan

Lady Lazarus

June 20, 2009

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it—–

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?——-

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The Peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand in foot ——
The big strip tease.
Gentleman , ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I’ve a call.

It’s easy enough to do it in a cell.
It’s easy enough to do it and stay put.
It’s the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

‘A miracle!’
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart—
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair on my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash—
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there—-

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

Sylvia Plath