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Showing posts from 2017

Dr. Curtis Boyd, Abortionist: the Tower of Abortive Choice, Anarchy, and the Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Introduction: The Hanging Chad of the Unborn              A lbuquerque, New Mexico’s Dr. Curtis Boyd, is a cult hero to some. To others he is the devil incarnate. Boyd is an abortionist. He performs third trimester and even partial birth abortions as it is legal within the Albuquerque city limits.  Tragically, when the issue was submitted as a referendum to the citizenry of this predominantly Hispanic Catholic city, ashamedly, it passed. I am told by Elisa Martinez, Executive Director of the New Mexico Alliance for Life that Boyd’s very modest and unspectacular looking clinic in the center of town will often have its tree-lined asphalt parking lot full with the license plates hailing from far flung states and even other countries.             B oyd unabashedly proclaims his pride that this predominantly Catholic city is considered the number one partial birth abortion capital of the United States. Ironically, even though the laws allow for Boyd to practice his specialty, he remain

The Devil Espouses “High Road” Rhetoric

M y supposed friend Luce has inconveniently reappeared for Lent. You know Luce, aka “The Devil.” His latest missive was jubilant and triumphant over the three most important words in the human language beginning with the letter “c”: namely, confusion, confusion, and confusion. He makes some interesting points. He writes: D ear Deacon: I had not written to you lately because I was devastated that the revolution over the election was not carried out to my specifications. Yes, my moles in the media have tried and tried and they keep trying to create and as Shakespeare wrote: “ Cry havoc, let loose the dogs of war .” From what I can surmise, your own efforts to take a more measured approach and guide the individual are failing as each of those individuals are caught up in the raw emotion of all this moral and political panoply of confusion.  Ahhh, I love so many words in the mishmash of a language called English and that is why I hate the utter precision of the Latin langu

The Ethics of the Unlocked Door

The door was not locked. It was closed. A housekeeper  babysitting  a 2 year old looked up suddenly as she felt a cold breeze. Someone unexpected had come through the back door.  Someone  had walked through the unlocked backyard fence gate and entered the unlocked back door of the house.  The man  stood there  well-dressed  but confused  and disoriented , eyes dancing to and fro . And then things changed in an instant. The man’s color changed from pale to  flush  red. His pupils enlarged and he started demanding the housekeeper and child get out of his house.  In utter fear at the surprise guest, t he housekeeper grabbed the little one; grabbed a coat and backed out through the garage entrance. She immediately went to the  neighbor’s  home where she frantically grasped at her cell phone to call 911.  It turns out the man had walked away from a rest home. He was a dementia patient. Somehow in his mind the house he invaded looked like memories in his mind. To him this was  not an