March 18, 2005

           The Hippie called while JP and I were turning around in a turnip field on the farthest western reaches of Miami. JP’s father bought tracts of land in the area once, and held it for 25 years. The US government stepped in and stopped all speculation. The land finally got sold to the government for the original purchase price [of $600 per acre]. JP remembers it because each of the kids got $12,000 from the sale. JP was once going to be a pediatrician when that fell through (which he sincerely regrets) and blew 90% of his share partying up with fancy women. The other 10%, he wasted.

           Pope John Paul finally gave up the ghost. Nobody was surprised, but JP (whose name is also John Paul) was surprised that I had once read Shoes of the Fisherman. That was in Grade 11 and I was barely able to understand what all the fuss was about a non-Italian pope. I hardly remember that time of my life on a daily basis, but I do recall that my school marks began to suffer very rather badly once I had discovered teenage girls liked sex (we had been raised to believe something quite different*).
           That is also the year I met Ian and Linda James, two teachers who were working their way around the world. Up till then I always thought you had to be rich to travel. Certainly I am no student of church tree charts yet I know that this Pope [in the book] had tackled some tough issues and must have had to contend with a lot of entrenched resistance.
           The book made it clear anyone could become pope, at least anyone who was Catholic and over 35. In reality, you have to also be a priest and a bunch of other preconditions that technically are not supposed to matter. Otherwise, JP would stand a chance.
           I learned that if all the bishops and such doing the choosing all shout out the same name, that person becomes Pope. Other than that, I barely remember the book. I found it, and all assigned reading, very boring compared to women and music. That was the same year (of the grade school reading assignment) of Pearle S., Susan G., Debbie B. and some gal with very rubbery breasts.
           Beep! My computer just reminded me that it is an hour later than a minute ago, making it 3:01 AM.
           Before I go, I have found another vein of research that some other interested person could pursue. I have always wondered why [do] rich people help the poor in [such] strange ways? They build fancy churches or universities or libraries. How does this help the poor? My curiosity is where this useless custom originated, and any related question such as why rich people think they are doing good by it. I’d always assumed that like with the Coliseum that it came from ancient Rome and I’ve heard such [modern] buildings referred to as ‘Monuments to the Pharoahs’. (If you visit India, you will see these buildings everywhere amid the poverty.)
           However, this practice would not seem all that viable once society underwent the Dark Ages. I’m certain when half your family dies of famine, you are not partying it up at the local ballet. Hungry people can’t/don't usually read, although I am certain any monastery with food could stage amazing recruitment drives during a famine. I’ve heard various suggestions, including the pressure of tax law and desire for immortality, but that does not explain to me why so many poor people think the same way. Why do the rich insist they are helping the poor with buildings the poor cannot use?

           *Author's note 2015-03-18: there is more to that story. We had been [forcibly if necessary] taught to believe women who were raised proper and decent had to be coerced into having sex. That they were to be courted and coaxed into it with diamonds and gold and romance and all those women who sold out too cheaply were called "tramps". As it turned out, I very quickly found out the opposite, that teen women are practically pre-occuppied with sex. Yet to this day, I still see most men still trying diamonds and gold--when only the tramps remain. What fools they be!"