Off-the-Shelf

Poker with the Saints

"God does not play dice with the universe."

-- Quote attributed to Albert Einstein in reference to the uncertainty principle governing the theories of quantum mechanics.

It may be true that God does not play dice with the universe, but it is a known fact that He does play poker every Friday night with saints Peter, Paul, and John. Normally, St. Peter brings the beer, St. Paul brings the potato chips, and St. John brings the cigars. God always shows up empty handed, claiming that, "Hey, I created everything! What the hell else do you want from me?!"

***

The following fragments, consisting of incongruous quotes and indeterminate musings, represent scribbled notes on bits of paper squirreled away over the past months, none of which developed into a full-blown blog. Thank God!!

{Musical accompaniment: Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Expedition, No. 2: Il Vecchio Castello.}

***

Collision

Astronomers revealed that the planet Jupiter was recently struck by either an asteroid or a comet, which brings to mind that 101 years ago, in June 1908, it is believed that the fragment of a comet collided with the earth's atmosphere over Siberia, Russia, creating a powerful airburst explosion equivalent to upwards of a thousand Hiroshimas.

Known as the Tunguska Event, the collision of the two heavenly bodies leveled some 800 square miles of Siberian forests. Unfortunately, at that time the earth was not carrying the optional collision insurance and had to pay for all damages out of pocket.

***

Farming

"All men keep the farm in reserve as an asylum where, in case of mischance, to hide their poverty -- or a solitude, if they do not succeed in society."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson, from the essay "Farming"

Reading some Emerson earlier in the year, I became interested in a particular essay he wrote back in 1858 on the subject of farming, as I was in the process of planting seeds toward producing a small garden - mainly tomatoes, zucchini, cucumbers, and peas. I wouldn't call it a Victory Garden. It's more of a Vacuity Garden, as thus far I have not seen much progress in the production of any of the above.

Not much of a farmer, I don't expect much of a harvest. But it gives me something to putter with as I contemplate the existence of God and whether or not He, too, would go with the higher deductible in order to bring down His auto insurance premiums.

***

Division of Labors

Emerson also had this to say about farming:

"The glory of the farmer is that, in the division of labors, it is his part to create. All trade rests at last on his primitive activity. He stands close to Nature; he obtains from the earth the bread and the meat. The food which was not, he causes to be."

Something similar might be said of the struggling writer:

"The glory of the writer is that, in the division of labors, it is his part to create. Very little trade rests at last on his primitive activity ... which began thousands and thousands of years ago with crude drawings on cave walls and which has progressed little since. He sits close to the typewriter; he obtains from the refrigerator moldy bread and half a glass of milk two days past its expiration date. The pain and anguish which was not, he causes to be."

***

Acorn Squash

"Cucumber seeds; an empty bottle of whisky,

Tomato seeds; an empty bottle of rum,

Zucchini seeds; a full bottle too risky,

Hidden 'neath weeds in yonder wheelbarrow; yum!"

- Thomas J. McSheey, lunatic poet and tipsy garden

Researching my favorite poet, T. J. McSheey, in the archives at Stoneycliff University, I discovered this spirituous little ditty that he apparently wrote one day while out in his barn where, within his line of vision, he viewed gardening tools and seed packets ... and some empty liquor bottles that had not yet made their way to the town landfill. He quickly combined the whole lot upon the pages of his scribbled notebook to create a folksy air, set to the music of Greensleeves, on the subject of planting and drinking, and planting and drinking some more.

McSheey was a pagan, and worshipped zucchini as if some sort of god. In total, he wrote more than 30 poems on the subject of zucchini alone, another dozen on pumpkins and gourds, and many more that made reference to summer squash. Interesting, he never wrote a poem about acorn squash, which has baffled McSheey scholars for decades.

***

Chicken or Fish?

"Hiding poverty in the midst of a deep economic downturn is like trying to hide the fact that you were forced to eat a fellow hiker in order to survive after emerging alone, cold, tired, and unshaven from a week in the mountains without food -- not that that particular scenario has ever happened to me!"

- Prof. I. M. Carnivorous, noted economist and suspected cannibal

Professor I. M. Carnivorous was the sole survivor of a failed attempt to climb Mount Washington back in the winter of 1933 with a small group of fellow economists. On the fourth cold night, with all food long exhausted, he lulling the other hikers asleep with a longwinded treatise on his theories of supply and demand ... and then swiftly dispatched each of them with a sharpened slide rule.

Though his survival was at first considered a miracle, his cannibalistic tendencies were later revealed at an economics society dinner held in his honor in Boston when he was asked whether he wanted chicken or fish, to which he responded that he'd much prefer to have his colleague, Professor Hetchelton, cooked medium well done, and served with a baked potato and sour cream.

***

Indoctrination

"Above the bustle of the everyday rite,

Bells chime in a steeple, tall and white,

Above the din of the traffic below,

Tintinnabulation, high and low."

- J.T.S., in a moment of religious reflection, wherein he wrestles with his belief system, which is built on scientific speculation about the nature of the universe based on the established theories of quantum physics, yet plagued by the Catholic indoctrination of his growing up years, which consisted of mass every Sunday morning and CCD classes on Tuesday afternoons after school ... and besides, he's always wanted to use the word "tintinnabulation" in a blog entry.

***

How to Succeed

After watching a late-night TV infomercial, I ordered a number of "reverse-motivational" books, tapes, and DVDs that have completely change my life!

I first received a book entitled "How to Succeed at Absolutely Nothing." After reading it, the wheels in my head began turning and I immediately made some irreversible and utterly irresponsible business decisions that sent my costs way up and my sales way down. In no time my small business was in the red!

I next received a DVD entitled "Ten Simple Ways to Screw Up Every Time." Soon, my bank accounts were exhausted, I was filing for bankruptcy, and my credit score was plummeting like a lead zeppelin!

Finally, I received a series of cassette tapes - "When the Going Gets Tough, Quit" - which I played in my car wherever I went. Following this program, I've now lost absolutely everything. In fact, just this morning my car was repossessed. And tomorrow, the bank is putting my house up for auction!

But that's okay - I still have my dream - a dream to see myself self-implode into a black hole of debt and financial ruin. And no one is going to take that dream away from me!!

Jack Sheedy

In my next blog: Professor Carnivorous orders dessert ... while St. John bets it all on a pair of Jacks, only to lose to God's five Aces. The Lord certainly works in mysterious ways. (He also plays poker in mysterious ways!).

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The Inspired Oyster

And Jesus, walking by the sea of Galilee, saw two brethren, Simon called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea: for they were fishers.

And he saith unto them, "Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men."

To which Andrew replied, "That's all well and good, but what's the pay?"

Matthew 4:18-19

The Tale of the Inspired Oyster

Plans were recently unveiled to build a dozen wind turbines in the shoal waters off Cape Haddock, a small fishing community located along the northeast coast. These massive turbines, each standing about 400 feet tall, would supply residents of the surrounding area with power during these energy-conscious times.

Residents of Cape Haddock were initially split over whether the proposed wind turbines would have a positive or negative impact on the seacoast community. The old town hall saw lively debate, and in the local weekly newspaper, the Haddock Herald, the editorial page published numerous letters supporting both sides of the issue.

Local fishermen saw the building of the turbines at Pocketful Shoals as an affront to their livelihood, while cash-strapped residents saw it as possible relief from ever-increasing energy bills during these recessionary times. But all debate and editorial writing was to end abruptly one summer day when an oysterman discovered an oyster in his rack with markings on the shell that clearly resembled the Virgin Mother.

Being a devout Catholic community, the pious oysterman immediately brought his divine find to the clergy at Our Lady of the Eighth Sacrament church, where all agreed that the mollusk was a miracle in Ostreidae form. News quickly spread throughout the seacoast village, and very soon residents of Cape Haddock assembled at their church to view the blessed oyster. All agreed that the oyster, Crassostrea virginica, did indeed resemble the Virgin Mother.

During the following week, representatives from the Archdiocese made a pilgrimage to Cape Haddock to bear witness to this religious event, declaring that the oyster was "truly inspired."

Over the days and weeks that followed, other oystermen from Cape Haddock took a careful look at the contents of their racks, cages, and bags for any more "inspired" oysters. One man found a shell that appeared to bear the image of Christ, although others claimed it looked more like a bearded John Lennon from around the time of the recording of the Abbey Road album. Another oysterman produced twelve oysters that he claimed revealed images of all twelve disciples, although he eventually ate the Judas oyster. While yet another claimed that he found an oyster that depicted St. Paul on the road to Damascus, although others said it looked more like Elvis during his 1969 comeback tour.

But none of these other finds quite rivaled the excitement created by the discovery of the Virgin Mary oyster. Soon, news of its discovery made its way to the Vatican, where a special tribunal ruled that the waters off Cape Haddock be declared a site of  "religious significance." In fact, the Pope was scheduled to visit Cape Haddock to bless the waters during his upcoming United States visit, but that visit was cancelled when His Holiness fractured his wrist during a snowboarding vacation in Turin.

Today, the blessed "inspired" oyster of Cape Haddock rests inside a protective glass case in the vestibule at Our Lady of the Eighth Sacrament church, before which the pious parishioners bless themselves prior to attending Mass on Sundays.

And today, the oystermen of Cape Haddock still farm their oysters, occasionally discovering one that somewhat resembles one of the saints, or one of the three wise men, or else depicts an image representing one of the 14 Stations of the Cross (i.e. Veronica wipes the face of Jesus; or, Jesus falls for the second time).

Oh, and today developers are, in fact, moving forward with their plans to erect wind turbines at Pocketful Shoal despite the Vatican's decree. It seems the developers provided funds for real estate tax abatements for the local residents and also presented a sizable contribution to Our Lady of the Eighth Sacrament church in order to enlarge the rectory for Saturday night bingo.

Life goes on at Cape Haddock, as it has for generations of fishers. Or, to quote from the conclusion of Melville's great novel, "and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago."

"Finis."

Jack Sheedy

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Animating Cause

"Reverses of Fortune don't discourage me. It was natural to expect them, and We ought to be prepared in our Minds for greater Changes ... It is an animating Cause, and brave Spirits are not subdued with Difficulties."

- Written by John Adams to his wife, Abigail, in June 1776, as documented in E.B. White's piece entitled "A Busy Place," published in the New Yorker on July 5, 1976.

Growing up in Braintree, Mass, I was always proud of the fact that John Adams, John Quincy Adams, and John Hancock were all born in my hometown. Never mind that that part of Braintree in which they were born is now part of Quincy, the history books show "Braintree" as their place of birth and that's good enough for me!

So it is that every time July 4^th rolls around I get all kind of teary eyed and choked up inside at the thought of two of my hometown heroes -- Adams and Hancock -- playing such important roles in the preparation of the declaration that formally announced our independence, thus separating our newborn country from the Crown.

And so, as in years past, I meandered a while on the red-white-and-blue holiday,  flipping through the pages of books I admire for words to inspire me. I reread excerpts of David McCullough's John Adams. And I reread E.B. White's piece, "A Busy Place" (from the book Writings from the New Yorker: 1927-1976), written during the year of our country's bicentennial, in which White conjured up the spirit (and the words) of Adams at a time when America stood at yet another crossroads in her history -- in the wake of the Vietnam War and Watergate, and with a future ever uncertain.

White wrote: "The word 'patriot' is commonly used for Adams and for those other early geniuses. Today, the word is out of favor. Patriotism is unfashionable...A man is not expected to love his country, lest he make an ass of himself. Yet our country...is curiously lovable, in somewhat the same way an individual who has got himself into an unconscionable scrape often seems lovable..."

He concluded with: "Let us, on this important day...take heart from John Adams. We might even for a day assume the role of the patriot, with neither apology nor shame. It would be pleasant if we could confront the future with confidence...Let not the reverses discourage us - liberty is an animating Cause...Bang the bell! Touch off the fuse! Send up the rocket! On to the next hundred years of melancholy scenes, splendid deeds, and urgent business!"

Indeed, July 4, 2009, and our country is not presently hitting on all cylinders. The unemployment rate recently reached 9.5%. The Stock Market was down more than 200 points when it closed for the July 4^th holiday. Our auto industry has gone bust. We have troops fighting, and dying, in foreign lands. And a dangerous Asian country with a wacky renegade leader launched missiles on our nation's holiday; each missile representing a metallic middle finger pointed in our direction.

But in spite of all this, let us remember the spirit of John Adams and the other Patriots. Reverses of Fortune did not discourage them. And their Brave Spirit was not subdued with difficulties. For it truly is an Animating Cause, this thing we call Liberty.

Happy 233^rd birthday, E Pluribus Unum!

John Quincy Sheedy

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Incidental History

Researching some articles on Cape Cod history, I came across the following incidental news items in old issues of the Barnstable Patriot newspaper, presented here in no particular order, without rhyme or reason, and without explanation.

Oh, incidentally, my commentary is provided in bold type.

{Musical accompaniment: Incidental music from Bizet's L'Arlésienne.}

From the June 24, 1873 issue: 

"Attention is being directed to investment of money in large three-masted schooners of from 1,000 to 1,200 tons capacity. Attention is also being directed to Obadiah, the village idiot, who is presently standing on a bench in the center of town completely starkers!"

From July 7, 1874:

"Many a man is rich without money. Thousands of men with nothing in their pockets are rich. A man born with a sound constitution, a good stomach, a good heart, good limbs, and a pretty good head-piece, is rich. Good bones are better than gold; tough muscles better than silver; and nerves that flash fire and carry energy to every function are better than houses or land. A good health plan with a $15 co-pay doesn't hurt either."

September 23, 1873:

"Civil war has broken out in Morocco between the son and brother of the deceased Sultan, and the trade of the country is paralyzed. It is believed hostilities between the two men began over who was to pay the funeral charges."

September 30, 1873:

"The stable connected with Shattuck's Hotel, Orleans, was destroyed by fire Sunday night. Loss about $1,500. The cause of the fire is under investigation, although it is believed that one of the horses in the barn, a nag named Nellie, plugged too many kitchen appliances into one electrical outlet."

December 23, 1873:

"Mr. H-'s farm produces beets and turnips weighing fifteen pounds each, and Mr. T-'s farm produces cabbages weighing forty pounds each. And the farm of Mr. McS- recently produced a chicken with two heads -- one head called Abbott and the other called Costello -- that performs the 'Who's on First?' comedy routine every hour on the hour, with a special matinee performance on Sunday afternoons!"

November 25, 1873:

"The death of the Honorable Mr. H- is announced. In a statement issued by the late Mr. H-, he said, 'My sudden and untimely death took me totally by surprise, although I had a funny feeling something was wrong with me when I hadn't moved for three days.' He went on to say, 'Now that I'm dead, I'll have more time to catch up on my reading. Who knows, perhaps I'll take up painting, or sculpting, or perhaps even gardening. In any case, I'm very excited to have passed on and am looking forward to being among the recently deceased.' "

October 7, 1873:

"A man was boasting that he had been married twenty years, and had never given his wife a cross word. His wife, on the other hand, swears like a sailor at sea!"

October 7, 1873:

"The Emperor of Brazil stands six feet four inches in his boots. He stands six foot five inches in his wife's red pumps."

And, finally, this bit of incidental news from September 30, 1873:

"The schooner Hannah D of Harwich, from Bangor for Salem, loaded with wood, ran ashore on the North-east point of Squirrel Island, Maine. All crewmen survived the shipwreck, and were landed safely at the island in a lifeboat -- where they were then swiftly devoured by a pack of large, ravenous gray rodents."

Jack Sheedy

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Higher Consciousness

"In Italy, for thirty years under the Borgias, they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love; they had five hundred years of democracy and peace. And what did that produce? The cuckoo clock!"

- From the movie "The Third Man."

{Musical accompaniment: Zither instrumental interlude}

In other words...

Friction brings about fruition. Harmony maintains the status quo.

Or, in other words...

We can either live the life we wish to live, or else let our lives pass us by.

Or, in spiritual terms...

We can either live our lives preparing for an afterlife, or we can live our lives as God would have intended us to live it - full of gusto!

Or, in spirituous terms...

We can either add spirits to our daily glass of existence, or else nurse a placebo hoping to trick ourselves into thinking we're getting a good buzz out of life.

And that, my friend, is why I'm now wearing suspenders.

"Suspenders?" you ask.

Yup, suspenders. I can't believe I've gone without them for 46 years, 7 months, and 5 days (give or take, with leap years). And now I don't know how I can live without them. A pair of suspenders is, in my opinion, the most amazing thing that God, in His infinite wisdom, placed upon this planet Earth, right up there with the fax machine, the tubeless tire, and latex paint. Dungarees that have drooped on me for years are now being given a new lease on life. I feel uplifted! Enlightened! As if raised to a higher consciousness!

But enough about suspenders. Let's get back to the meaning of our lives. Well, the meaning of my life, at least. After all, this is my blog.

I had a wonderful English teacher back in high school. Although I didn't do so hot in her class I got enough out of the course to know that writing was something I wanted to do. So, I joined the school literary club, which placed me in touch with like-minded students with views on life, the universe, God, and where that weekend's party should be held. Sure, it was more of a social club than a literary club, but it was a great bohemian experience during an impressionable time.

Now 30 years removed from the classroom, I estimate that over that time I have written something approaching one million words (with newspaper and magazine articles, and with books, and with blogs, and with short stories, and with a 600-page double-spaced novel that was rejected by thirty different publishers, and with weekly shopping lists). That comes to 33,333 words per year, or, on average, about 91 words per day  ... give or take, with leap years.

And, after another few decades of writing, when pages and pages and pages of my stuff occupy boxes on top of boxes on top of boxes in my cellar, both published and unpublished, and when my time in this particular three-dimensional universe has expired, it will be the job of a cleaning crew to haul the stuff off to the local transfer station, which will then hand it over to an interstellar disposal company, perhaps something like Rapid Rocket Refuse, Incorporated. In turn, R.R.R., Inc. will then blast my stuff away into space with all the other household trash (since by then all our landfills here on earth will be full).

And in that sense, my written words will travel off into the cosmos for all of eternity - immortal, infinite, toward a higher consciousness, toward God perhaps - along with fast food wrappers, orange rinds, and spent coffee grinds.

But enough of all that higher consciousness crap. Let's get back to the subject of my new suspenders...

Jack Sheedy

P.S.: This concludes Part 1 in a two-part series of semi-spiritual suspender blogs. In the second installment, I will not only prove that God exists, but that He currently resides in Cleveland, Ohio.

P.P.S.: I am currently at work on a Gospel-inspired musical entitled Judas Iscariot Superstar - I figure every argument has two sides. In this version, Judas is the one who is crucified, Jesus is the one who betrays him, and Mary Magdalene is a single mother who works behind the counter of a Jerusalem bakery serving Dead Sea Scones.

P.P.P.S: After a decade of making highly involved mathematical calculations during my spare time, I have finally finished a theorem that proves the existence of God. The key variable in the equation is the number of grains of sand on all the beaches around the world, which I determined as (X-1)² where X is a whole number greater than 100 yet just shy of infinity. Interestingly, the formula also proves the existence of Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and Leprechauns.

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