The Norwegian Church is an attractive 100-year old building in Rotherhithe, full of little maritime touches, south of the Thames. Back when London was a busy port, Rotherhithe was one of the main areas of port business. Whistler used to go there in the 1870s and 1880s to draw and paint. Today, it’s a pleasant enough lower middle class area, one of many in London, but it retains something of its maritime legacy. Including the Norwegian Church and Seamen’s Mission, right down the street from the Finnish Church. There are Norwegian Churches in all sorts of port cities, in fact. Liverpool has one. Cardiff. Edinburgh. Norwegians take their Christianity seriously. 80% of the country is a member of the Church of Norway.
So it was a fitting setting for today’s Memorial Service to the victims of a very evil man, Anders Behring Breivik, who last Friday blew up part of Oslo, leaving eight people dead and many maimed and injured. He then proceeded to spend 90 minutes stalking and murdering 68 teenagers at a retreat on Utøya island, all in the name of a some mythical armed struggle against multiculturalism. Continue reading →
Let me give you a definition of the word ‘liberal.’…Franklin D. Roosevelt once said…It is a wonderful definition, and I agree with him. ‘A liberal is a man who wants to build bridges over the chasms that separate humanity from a better life.’ – Richard Milhous Nixon
Richard Nixon was our last liberal president. – Noam Chomsky
As I’ve noted before, we don’t often do “hey, go read this” posts at S&R. But hey, go read this.
…let’s just say that Obama’s continuing insistence on compromising, his continuing faith in bipartisanship despite two and a half years of evidence that these people don’t do compromise and will never make a deal, is looking obsessive and compulsive.
We could hear the Mexican radio through the floor above us. Laura and I lived in a basement apartment beneath her boss’s house. Aside from our three little rooms, the rest of the house was suffering heavy renovations. Laura’s boss, a wealthy woman who made her living through an ever-expanding collection of “small” businesses, had a long list of whimsical retouches which required the all-but annihilation of the house. After I helped Laura move in, the boss walked us around, pointing her fingers like God on the Sistine ceiling. Staircases would rotate. Walls would vanish, only to reappear on another floor. The existing colors were doomed to be replaced by their distant cousins and once-removed aunts. Laura and I snuck wide-eyed glances as we followed her through the house.