The War Against Christmas...NOT!

I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sick of Christians acting like they are beleaguered and under siege in America. It's unseemly. And wrong-headed.

For a secular nation, we Christians have pretty much routed the opposition. Sure, once in a while, you'll find some oversensitive public official or overcautious CEO doing something dopey about eliminating some display or greeting. But the Christians have won. I'm just not sure if it's a victory we can savor.

The courts have ruled that Nativity scenes can be erected on public property as long as they are surrounded by other images of the season - Frosty, Rudolph, Santa and the rest of that ilk.
So you win, but the manger then becomes reduced to a cartoon, denuded of power and meaning.
We Baptists are real big on the separation of church and state. Our guy, Roger Williams, was driven out of Massachusetts because the state and church were too cozy.
But why do we want government to have anything to do with religion? These are the same guys that run DYFS.

Cry, cry, cry

I was flipping through the channels last night - approximately 80 percent of which are showing reruns of every conceivable incarnation of the Law and Order franchise - when I came across an HBO documentary called "Last Letters Home," in which moms and dads and spouses read the last letters their loved ones wrote before they were killed in action in Iraq.

I've never seen or heard anything so unbearably heartbreaking. If you can watch this without crying, you've somehow checked your humanity at the door. Fathers break down as their sons write how much they love them. Wives tell how they refused to let the soldiers charged with bringing the news into their home, because as long as the bad news wasn't said out loud, it wasn't real and didn't happen.

There was a soldier who wrote a letter to his family to be opened if he died. He writes to his little boy, "Dream of our park and I'll be always be there.'' It was unbearable, but I couldn't change the channel. It seemed disrepectful somehow. The website for this program is http://www.hbo.com/docs/programs/lastlettershome/

I See London, I See France...

Let me just say that I'm not in bed with the undergarment industry. I don't own stock in Fruit of the Loom or anything like that. Basically, I don't care whether you wear underwear or not. But I will say this: if you are a newly divorced pop star, like say, oh, I don't know, Britney Spears, who has decided to party hearty, and you decide to paint the town pink with your new best pals Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton, and you leave the house without your panties, and the paparazzi are all over the place, you really need to learn how to get out of a car without turning into a porn star.

All I want for Christmas....

Is it too early to start dropping hints about what you want for Christmas to your family and friends? Now, right away, I can hear some of you already getting your shorts in a bunch... "Doesn't Riley understand the reason for the season?'' Of course I do. Which is why I like to keep my greed separate from the spiritual and theological elements of Christmas.

I'm actually a very good gift-giver if I do say so myself. I've already picked out my son Christopher's present (It's a box set of Marx brothers' films.) And my wife Susan is such a low-maintenance girl that pretty much anything I get her elicits wide eyes and wonder.

But when it comes to what I want, my hints go sailing right over their sugar-plummed heads. So I have to come right and say what it is I want. Not that it matters. I don't get it anyway.

Here's what I want my family to get me, their patriarch. It's what I've been asking for for the last two years: A series of scripts from the late, lamented "West Wing" TV series downloaded and bound at Kinko's, and a second tattoo. You'd think I was asking for the sun, moon and stars.
Sheesh.

What I'm interested in, among the Machiavellian revelers among you, is what kind of lures do you use to get your Christmas swag? There has got to be a better way than leaving a cut-out picture of the hoped-for gift lying on the coffee table.

"Words, words, mere words'' or the old yakety-yak

Turns out I'm a bit of woman. You can imagine my surprise. Happily married, father of four and all of that.
But a recent study shows that women speak about three times more often than man in a day.
"That's strange,'' my wife said. "You talk more than anybody I know.''
"Do you think that's primarily because of my various careers as an orator, evangelist, and raconteur?'' I asked Sue.
"I think it's primarily because you never shut up,'' she answered.
Turns out that I'm more like a woman in one other respect. Men find their way around using abstract concepts like longitude, latitude and compass points. Women tend to rely on landmarks.
I'm a landmark man. You want to give me directions to your house, be sure to tell me to take a left at the Hooters, and I'll be there. (Right after I've had my fill of buffalo wings, of course.)
God knows what sort of prenatal hardwiring went on in my cranium. I do know this: men tend to think about sex a lot more than women do, and in that respect, I'm definitely male.

A reasoned faith

As a person of faith, I'm required to believe a number of things that cannot be proven: the existence of God, for instance.
But I believe that I have good reasons for what I believe. What amazes me are the number of people who believe absolute hogwash, stuff that can be disproven time and time again. The existence of ghosts, for example, or that space aliens are among us, or that John Edward can hear the dead mutter, or that some people can read minds or see the future, or that astrology works, or that homeopathy is sound medicine, or that evolution is a crock.
The list of bushwa is seemingly endless.
But I think that science and religion, and reason and faith, do not have to contradict one another. That's why I read Skeptic magazine ( http://skeptic.com/) and a journal called Skeptical Inquirer ( http://www.csicop.org/si/) These two periodicals do a fine job of weeding out the outrageous claims of those on late-night infomercials and other quacks.
Admittedly, some of the stuff found in these works can be a challenge to believers, since some bigtime skeptics allow their arrogance to get in the way, and seem to throw the baby of religion out with the bathwater of pseudoscience.
But most of the authors seem to have respect for those people of faith who also embrace science. So good for them.

The fruit of my loins slays me

It was good to have all my sons together for Thanksgiving. Christopher, my second oldest, made it back on Wednesday night, having spent a few days at his girlfriend's parents' house in Maine.
"That's great,'' I said. "Although, you know, we would have been happy to have her here. We'd like to get to meet her.''
Chris paused.
"You know I love you dad, but you are a little weird,'' he said. "I told her I was an orphan. Just makes things easier all around.''
And the legacy of the Riley wit gets passed to a new generation....

Happy Thanksgiving

I hope you all have a happy and blessed Thanksgiving. The Riley family will be heading down to my mother-in-law's assisted living apartment at the Baptist Home in South Jersey to have our feast, which, as I understand it, is turkey with all the fixin's, pureed in a blender and poured into a big tall glass. You drink it with a straw. At 11 am.
I'm kidding. It's 11:30 a.m.
No, it's a fine meal and my mother-in-law is a wonderful woman.
May your day be filled with good things and loving people.

KKKramer

Michael Richards, once the clueless Kramer on "Seinfeld," recently responded to a heckler at a comedy club by launching into a racist rant, including numerous uses of the n-word. (See it and hear it at http://www.tmz.com/2006/11/20/kramers-racist-tirade-caught-on-tape/. )

I just don't get it. I've done stand-up comedy, and I've never been heckled.
Here are a couple of tips:
1.) Pack the room with as many friends as you can.
2.) (This one may only work if you are a Baptist minister): I've found it helps, once you've been introduced as such to drop a fat juicy expletive into the routine as early as possible: it stuns some and makes others laugh quickly, so you're already ahead of the game. (Sorry, Margaret.)

If I ever got heckled, I would go no further than pointing out that the heckler was stupid, rude and quite possibly drunk. If you can't make comeback hay out of stupid, rude and possibly drunk, you really don't belong on the stage.

'Til irreconcilable differences do us part

I tend to be against divorce. Just like Jesus.
Depending on which Gospel you read, Jesus prohibited divorce in all cases, or allowed an exception for adultery. But by and large, he was pro-marriage.
Some theologians believe that Jesus' injunction against divorce was a way of protecting first-century women. A man could divorce his wife for the crime of having burned dinner. And all he had to do was publicly announce the dissolution of the union three times. The woman would then be out on the street with no recourse. Of course, women could not initiate divorce proceedings.
It's not so easy to legally dissolve a marriage here in the Garden State. A couple that wants to split has to live apart for 18 months before the divorce is finalized. The process can be speeded up, however, if one member of the estranged couple accuses the other of "extreme cruelty.'' That's just the sort of thing to parade in front of the children.
Of course, some couples are so eager to get out of a marriage, they are willing to gnaw off their own legs to get out of the trap.
The state Legislature is proposing that the time for granting a divorce be reduced to 6 months with the addition of a category called irreconcilable differences. That sounds a lot more civilized than extreme cruelty, and it would make it easier and cheaper for couples to get on with their lives.
The state has an interest in fostering and supporting marriage. But to punish people for trying to end one seems wrong-headed to me.

Get your No. 2 pencils ready

So, I'm reading that two people at UMDNJ were fired from "no-show'' jobs.
Huh?
Sounds like an oxymoron to me. How do you get fired from a no-show job? Put in a full day's work?
I can see somebody going to jail for fraud for having a no-show job. I can see the paychecks stop coming. But fired?
There's a funny analogy here somewhere, but I'll be darned if I can find it.
So for all of you who took the old SATs -- the ones with the analogies -- help me find the funny.
"Getting fired from a no-show job is like. . . .''

Jeremiah and O.J.

''The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?'' wrote the prophet Jeremiah. Well, most of the time we know it when we see it. Sometimes we mistake anger or ignorance or passion for evil. You don't want to go bandying that word around willy nilly.

But evil and wicked are the only two words I can think of to describe O.J. Simpson's latest attempt to push his way into the American consciousness. A new book, "If I Did It,'' and a two-part interview on Fox are winding their way to us. And that's just wrong. Money alone can't be the motive for this. The pain this will cause the Brown and Goldman families can't be measured.
This guy is Iago-evil, nasty and brutal just for the hell of it.

He can say what he wants. I pray that nobody wants to listen to it.

Hello, stranger!

So, I picked up the phone the other day to talk to a stranger. Which is really no big deal - essentially that's what I do for a living these days. But this was a personal call to a stranger. The man wrote a play I greatly admired called "Hospitality Suite,'' and one of the regular responders to my blog actually got this guy's phone number for me.
I called the number and Roger Rueff, the author, actually answered the phone. He told me he doesn't usually give copies of his work to individuals. I said I understood. The conversation did not end there. We spoke for about an hour, about our kids, our lives, what we do to pay the bills (he teaches business writing seminars).
When I told him I used to be a Baptist pastor, the conversation became good and lively.
I tend to surprise people because I don't think I fit their model of a Baptist minister (even over the phone.)
We bemoaned the fact that the bullies seem to have taken over evangelicalism in America, and we discussed the nature, philosophy and theology of funeral services.
It's great to talk to someone who is witty and erudite (much like yourselves, actually)
He said some really fine things describing young theater critics as those who "aspire to be jaded.''
He quoted Woody Allen: "If Jesus came back today and saw what was being done in his name, he wouldn't stop throwing up.''
The playwright also said that when people perform his play, he makes it clear that they cannot change or clean up the language. This puts him one stop above journalists who are always having their words changed and cleaned up by editors.
As the conversation went on, I thought the only thing missing was a long mahogony bar and a few cold ones.
Strangers connecting and enjoying a convwersation. Whoda thunk it?
Maybe you and I ought to get together for a drink and a conversation - or does that defeat the purpose of a blog?
We could all wear nametags, except that 90 percent of you would be called Anonymous.

We've got ourselves a nice little clambake here!

You know, I was never sure about this whole blogging business. But let me tell you, I'm really pumped. My blog last week about certain plays and videos I was trying to track down was met with genuine helpfulness.
I received the phone number of one playwright, the e-mail address of another and people are still hunting down the third thing on my list.
So thank you all! It seems to me we have a community at work here in cyberspace, full of good Samaritans and people who apparently have time on their hands to do a good turn for a relatively anonymous stranger.
So again, let me extend my gratitude to dg (aka McGyver) and margaret (who apparently hasn't held an earlier cheap joke against me) .
This whole blogging thing may have potential.
And by the way, I had an hour-long phone conversation with playwright Roger Rueff, who wrote "The Big Kahuna'' and "Hospitality Suite.''
We talked about his plays and life and religion and politics. Those playwrights are pretty witty people. Tomorrow, I'll let you in on our conversation. (He's sending me a copy of the play!)

A plug or two

Most of you who read this probably also take a look at my column in the Asbury Park Press. I even imagine a certain "anonymous'' here in the blogosphere reads it out of some masochistic impulse. Anyway, take a gander at this week's offering at http://www.app.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20061110/LIFE/611100393/1054. There you'll find me talking about a charity affair I went to. If you want more information on the charity, which raised more than $20,000 on a Sunday afternoon (and needs a whole bunch more), go to Sylvia's Children at http://www.sylviaschildren.org/800.html for what they do and how you can help. The sponsor of this particular soiree happened to be my wife's employer, The Home Away From Home Academy in Aberdeen (hi, honey!). Its Web site is http://www.homeawayfromhomeacademy.com/. The trailer park I grew up in, does not, to the best of my knowledge, have a Web site.

Help me in my search

They say you can find anything on the Internet. Ha! I have found out-of-print books I've wanted, and the odd gadget now and again. But there are some things that have eluded me. To wit: A video version of the PBS "Great Performances'' show airing of "The Gospel According to Colonus,'' the Greek tragedy staged as an African American church service. Can't find it. A written copy of the play "Hospitality Suite'' later made into a movie called "The Big Kahuna" with Kevin Spacey and Danny DeVito. I've got the movie, but I can't find the script. I'd also like to get my hands on either the video or text of a one-man play called "Rattlesnake In a Cooler.'' If anyone can help me in my search, I'd appreciate it.

Bush lies, no biggie; but admitting it? Holy cow!

I was just listening to Bush's press conference announcing Donald Rumsfeld's resignation. The first question a reporter asked was essentially this: "Last week, you told reporters that Cheney and Rumsfeld were staying on? What's up with that?''
Bush answered by saying he told reporters that, knowing it wasn't true, to get them off the subject and on to a different question.
The President of the United States has been reduced to using the rhetoric of every wayward husband who finally cops to the affair: "Well, of course I told you I wasn't with her. I thought it would be easier just to compliment your dress.''
And let me just say this is probably the tip of the Bush prevarication iceberg:
"Of course we knew that Saddam had no WMDs. But if I told you that, you wouldn't have wanted to go to war.''
"Sure, we knew that invading Iraq without an exit strategy was probably a boneheaded move, but we didn't want the American people to worry their pretty little heads.''
Makes you long for the days when presidents just lied about oral sex.

VOTE!

I exercised my franchise at 7:15 a.m and they told me that turnout was heavy. The woman in front of me had a little trouble with the electronic ballot and needed help.
So did I, but not because of technology. It's just hard to cast a ballot with one hand and hold your nose with the other.

Open the pod bay doors, HAL

The other day, my 18-year-old son, Alex, and I were talking about electronic voting machines, which apparently can be hacked by any high school dropout with a part-time job at Radio Shack, thus leaving one's faith in the integrity of the electoral process shaken.

Alex hunched over, and spoke in a grouchy old-man voice: "Eh. You kids today with your fancy election machines! In my day, we just put our mark on a piece of tree bark and turned it into the guy with nice loincloth!''

I like computers, but I know they can screw up all by themselves. I tried to sign up for my health benefits last week and the computer believed me to be an 87-year-old Albanian immigrant with beri-beri. So there are still a few bugs in the system.

The upside, of course, is that when it comes to the New Jersey Senate race , it almost doesn't matter who you vote for: New Jersey's own Boss Tweed or the good-looking Daddy's boy lapdog. Maybe just this once we should let the guy at the 7-11 do a "Quick Pick'' random vote for either one.

Didja hear the one about....

See, the thing about a joke is that it's supposed to be funny.
What John Kerry said the other day to college students about studying hard or they'll wind up stuck in Iraq http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vLuMWiQ6r2o was not a joke, botched or otherwise. Kerry's claim that he was referring to Bush and his war-strategy crowd makes little sense when you see his prepared remarks. He went a little extemporaneous there and screwed up the lines, but you can't do that with a joke.
Still, if you squint a little you can see that the joke depends on the word "stuck'' and who it is who it is who's stuck.
But for Kerry to spin a joke to that extent renders it essentially useless.
If you assume that Kerry wasn't talking about the men and women in uniform, but rather the administration, the joke still doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Nobody I know thinks that Rumsfeld and Cheney are stupid. Arrogant, stubborn and disastrously wrongheaded, maybe, but not dumb.
Actually, Kerry's response to the firestorm could well be described as arrogant, stubborn and disastrously wrongheaded.
Also, inflection, timing and attitude are what you need to sell a good joke. Kerry had none of that.
The man ought to apologize for his offense, and leave the joke-telling to somebody who has a clue about how to do it.