Tolkien had the One Ring destroyed on March 25th.

This is also the Feast of the Annunciation and the traditional date for the Crucifixion.

Thank you to our Catholic brothers.

https://www.ncregister.com/blog/pearce-tolkien-and-march-25?amp

Oh, I say, how many shekels would a Starship set back Bertram W.?  They are dashed sleek, I mean to say, what!  A take-off from one’s chic flat with a touchdown at the Drones would be just the thing to avoid the hoi polloi.

While the benefits of acquiring Greenland are probably obvious–

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This Christmas the JG is honoring forgotten Christmas traditions of yore that have unfairly fallen by the wayside.

Absent Calendars

This fun tradition is simple and easy. Simply remove your calendars. Voila! Instant cheer.

Dissing under the Missile Tow

This Christmas, make your way over to your local truck-hauled missile launcher (we suggest a HIMARS), sidle up to the hauler, and really let the illegitimi know what you think of them. Dis away in the fine old festive style.

While rap-battle disses are always appropriate, this year Shakespearean insults are trending. Give them a try.

But in any case, abide the custom, an ye be not a scapegrace poltroon!

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With the recent contretemps of the Aunt-majority parliament in Blighty (criminals out of the Big House, social media posters in), ditto similar hijinks in la Aunt France (the Telegram chappie arrested on the tarmac), one wonders if a sprightly young toff of impeccable pedigree and impeccable taste should not prolong his sojourn abroad?  It’s dashed unpleasant, being in the chokey.

Jeeves asseveres that the company of the other Drones would enliven the otherwise dreary confines and what not, and no doubt the good fellow is right.  Still and all, one prefers to do one’s own enlivening.

You don’t escape to Narnia

https://www.google.com/amp/s/mereorthodoxy.com/you-dont-escape-to-narnia

An interesting juxtaposition of CS Lewis’s Narnia vs more modern media, like Harry Potter or Les Grossman’s The Magicians.

Throughout the whole saga, one point is made piercingly clear. There is no sense in which one loses themselves in Narnia. One does not go to Narnia in order to explore, out of a sense of sheer curiositas. Instead, one is meant to find something there, something beyond and beneath the surface level of experience, and the physical limits of Narnia all exist in service of that pedagogical end.

…

Narnia, that is to say, is not an escape. By its nature, it cannot be. Rather, adventures in Narnia are conditioning experiences by which individuals come to see reality properly. As The Last Battle concludes in eschatological splendor, the faun Mr. Tumnus remarks to Lucy that “you are now looking at the England within England, the real England just as this is the real Narnia. And in that inner England no good thing is destroyed.”^[18] Exactly so.

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Indeed, I get the feeling, that too much modern fictional media has a seemingly unlimited world, with stunted limited viewpoints, while Narnia is a deliberately limited small world, where the people come out with more expansive views. That in fact, was the reason the children came to Narnia in the first place.

Fantasy at its best (Lewis, Tolkien, etc) is not an escape. It is a preparation for the real world.

On the sweetness…

A daughter gave me a neatly hand-lettered booklet with a handsewn binding that contained a guide to morse code.

My deacon gave me an arduino that he had programmed a morse code fathers’ day message into.

I painstakingly translated it with the help of the booklet.

The message was B O O G E R

Let none say that Bertie Wooster is not a dashed climate activist.  Of course I am.  Noblesse oblige and all that, what what!  Why just this eve I instructed Jeeves to grill the young master a ribeye.

My poor kiddos!  They are all going to drown from rising sea levels, and in the meantime there’s no beach house for them, they’re just too expensive.

It is a strange thing following Christ.

We must blend being perfecting submissive, with also being the perfect pioneer.

Ever try being 100% obedient and submissive, and ONLY doing what you have been commanded? To be the perfect robot? You will see in short order, that God refuses to command in all things. I expect if He made an exception to that, we would not enjoy it either.

So that means, we must be wise and diligent stewards, actively thinking of the best way, and new ways to fulfill our stewardship, while also being perfectly obedient. The Almighty has no intention of turning us into robots, and will resist our every attempt to be exactly that.

We must be obedient pioneers, striking out into the unknown, exploring new territory, making decisions while also diligently watching our Liahona for new instructions.

God wants sons, not robots.

I’m as manly as the next guy, but I have to admit I have a pretty vegan bedtime.  My sheets aren’t leather.  No animal products are consumed while I sleep.

I borrowed $33 trillion in Yank money from a feller and now I can’t find the stuff to pay him back.  Its a dashed whatsit . . . contretemps.

Oh, I say, dash it, ye olde witches were rather sporting.  Dashed adventurous of the old biddies.  But one rather draws the line at hog pens.

Oh, I say, dash it, have you seen the latest thing? Mugshots! What ho, what ho, what ho!

Many is the crime I have assayed to commit when conscience, the clarion voice of the angel within, whispered in my ear, “Bertram, what would your mother say if you were to be nabbed with your tie in its current less than perfect state? What price the mugshot, Bertram?”

To which I replied, “conscience, old bean, thumbs up and +1. You’ve struck the nail on the flat surface for which striking is ideal, viz, the head.”

I noticed a bunch of posters sprouting all over the house.  “Vote [X] for President!”

Me: You are running for President?

X:  I am running for Student Body President.

Me:  You’re homeschooled.

X:  I know!

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