Podcasts about Canada Day

It's a third Paddington.What do you want from me? Sit your butt down and just watch it. Come on. This shouldn't be that hard. He's a charming frickin' bear and he's surrounded by the most delightful actors! What?! You think you're too good for Paddington? Cause no one is good enough for him - that sweet bear! We don't deserve his kind... and you wanna get smart with me? Now? When there's an unwatched Paddington in front of you? I'm glad your grandfather died before he could see you like this. It's like that runaway Canada Day float knew what you would become and spared him the shame! Next week: It's Denzel, innit? Questions? Comments? Suggestions? You can always shoot us an e-mail at forscreenandcountry@gmail.com   Full List: https://www.pastemagazine.com/movies/war-movies/the-100-greatest-war-movies-of-all-time Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/forscreenandcountry Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/fsacpod Our logo was designed by the wonderful Mariah Lirette (https://instagram.com/its.mariah.xo) Paddington in Peru stars Hugh Bonneville, Emily Mortimer, Madeleine Harris, Samuel Joslin, Julie Walters, Olivia Colman, Jim Broadbent, Antonio Banderas, Hayley Atwell, the voice of Imelda Staunton and the voice of Ben Whishaw; directed by Dougal Wilson. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Liberty Dispatch - Episode 314 ~ February 13, 2025In this episode of Liberty Dispatch, hosts Andrew Di Bartolo and Matt Hallick discuss the gathering of all 13 Canadian premiers in Washington, DC, to address President Trump’s tariffs on Canadian goods. They scrutinize Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s decision to prorogue Parliament and the ensuing legal challenge being heard in federal court. The episode also touches on the pervasive hypocrisy of newfound Canadian patriotism, the historical context of the National Flag of Canada Day, and Trump's provocative suggestion of Canada becoming the 51st U.S. state. Plus, hear about their upcoming interviews and exclusive content you won’t want to miss. Subscribe or follow our new Substack page: https://ldcanada.substack.com/; Chapters:00:00 Opening 01:00 Intro 01:30 Support and Subscription Information 03:27 Upcoming Interviews and Content 04:11 Personal Updates and Community News 05:34 Plexus Worldwide AD 06:48 Segment 1 - High-Level Hypocrisy as Low-IQ Patriotism 38:15 Economic Concerns and Inflation 39:06 BullBitcoin AD 42:38 Segment 2 - Provinces Panic as Tariff Threat Looms 45:01 Trump's 51st State Proposal 48:49 Chinese Influence and Fentanyl Trade56:20 SalesNexus AD 57:17 Court Hearing Over Prorogation 01:03:03 Listener Mailbag and Closing Remarks 01:09:38 Outro Segment 1 - High-Level Hypocrisy as Low-IQ Patriotism:“National Flag of Canada Day Campaign” | Government of Canada: https://www.canada.ca/en/canadian-heritage/campaigns/national-flag-canada-day.html; “Pierre Poilievre Tweet” | X: https://x.com/PierrePoilievre/status/1889320620497772748; “Alexander Kloosterman Facebook Post” | Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/alexander.kloosterman.73/posts/pfbid02LvqsjKHitXL94KedBwfB2ekngKBh2Tz38QT1yTXQh9JKt7AuXnDkPKczN5Chb2aCl; "A Different Canada Day Under an Ambiguous Flag” | Ottawa Citizen: https://ottawacitizen.com/news/local-news/deachman-a-different-canada-day-under-an-ambiguous-flag; “Glenda McFarlane Tweet” | X: https://x.com/McfarlaneGlenda/status/1886911299004850358; Segment 2 - Provinces Panic as Tariff Threat Looms:"Canadian Premiers in Washington DC on Mission to Stop Trump Tariffs” | Western Standard: https://www.westernstandard.news/canadian/canadian-premiers-in-washington-dc-on-mission-to-stop-trump-tariffs/62118; “Brian Lilley Tweet” | X: https://x.com/brianlilley/status/1888711229646282874; Segment 3 - Court Hearing Over Prorogation:“Federal Court Will Hear Prorogation Challenge This Week in Ottawa” | JCCF: https://www.jccf.ca/federal-court-will-hear-prorogation-challenge-this-week-in-ottawa/; SHOW SPONSORS:Invest with Rocklinc: info@rocklinc.com or call them at 905-631-546; Diversify Your Money with Bull Bitcoin: https://mission.bullbitcoin.com/dispatch;BarterPay: https://barterpay.ca/; Barter It: https://www.barterit.ca/;Get freedom from Censorious CRMs by signing up for SalesNexus: https://www.salesnexus.com/;PLEXUS Worldwide: Reboot your health today! email them @ healthandliberty@proton.me or go to http://plexusworldwide.ca/healthandliberty; SUBSCRIBE TO OUR SHOWS/CHANNELS:LIBERTY DISPATCH PODCAST: https://libertydispatch.podbean.com; https://rumble.com/LDshow; CONTACT US: libertydispatch@pm.me STAY UP-TO-DATE ON ALL THINGS LD:Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/liberty_dispatch/; Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LibertyDispatchCanada; X: @LDCanada - https://x.com/_LDCanada; Rumble: https://rumble.com/LDshow; YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@libertydispatch Please LIKE, SUBSCRIBE, RATE, & REVIEW, and SHARE it with others!

Liberty Dispatch - Episode 314 ~ February 13, 2025 In this episode of Liberty Dispatch, hosts Andrew Di Bartolo and Matt Hallick discuss the gathering of all 13 Canadian premiers in Washington, DC, to address President Trump's tariffs on Canadian goods. They scrutinize Prime Minister Justin Trudeau's decision to prorogue Parliament and the ensuing legal challenge being heard in federal court. The episode also touches on the pervasive hypocrisy of newfound Canadian patriotism, the historical context of the National Flag of Canada Day, and Trump's provocative suggestion of Canada becoming the 51st U.S. state. Plus, hear about their upcoming interviews and exclusive content you won't want to miss. Subscribe or follow our new Substack page: https://ldcanada.substack.com/; Chapters: 00:00 Opening 01:00 Intro 01:30 Support and Subscription Information 03:27 Upcoming Interviews and Content 04:11 Personal Updates and Community News 05:34 Plexus Worldwide AD 06:48 Segment 1 - High-Level Hypocrisy as Low-IQ Patriotism  38:15 Economic Concerns and Inflation 39:06 BullBitcoin AD 42:38 Segment 2 - Provinces Panic as Tariff Threat Looms 45:01 Trump's 51st State Proposal 48:49 Chinese Influence and Fentanyl Trade 56:20 SalesNexus AD 57:17 Court Hearing Over Prorogation 01:03:03 Listener Mailbag and Closing Remarks 01:09:38 Outro Segment 1 - High-Level Hypocrisy as Low-IQ Patriotism: “National Flag of Canada Day Campaign” | Government of Canada: https://www.canada.ca/en/canadian-heritage/campaigns/national-flag-canada-day.html; “Pierre Poilievre Tweet” | X: https://x.com/PierrePoilievre/status/1889320620497772748; “Alexander Kloosterman Facebook Post” | Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/alexander.kloosterman.73/posts/pfbid02LvqsjKHitXL94KedBwfB2ekngKBh2Tz38QT1yTXQh9JKt7AuXnDkPKczN5Chb2aCl; "A Different Canada Day Under an Ambiguous Flag” | Ottawa Citizen: https://ottawacitizen.com/news/local-news/deachman-a-different-canada-day-under-an-ambiguous-flag; “Glenda McFarlane Tweet” | X: https://x.com/McfarlaneGlenda/status/1886911299004850358; Segment 2 - Provinces Panic as Tariff Threat Looms: "Canadian Premiers in Washington DC on Mission to Stop Trump Tariffs” | Western Standard: https://www.westernstandard.news/canadian/canadian-premiers-in-washington-dc-on-mission-to-stop-trump-tariffs/62118; “Brian Lilley Tweet” | X: https://x.com/brianlilley/status/1888711229646282874; Segment 3 - Court Hearing Over Prorogation: “Federal Court Will Hear Prorogation Challenge This Week in Ottawa” | JCCF: https://www.jccf.ca/federal-court-will-hear-prorogation-challenge-this-week-in-ottawa/; SHOW SPONSORS: Invest with Rocklinc: info@rocklinc.com or call them at 905-631-546; Diversify Your Money with Bull Bitcoin: https://mission.bullbitcoin.com/dispatch; BarterPay: https://barterpay.ca/; Barter It: https://www.barterit.ca/; Get freedom from Censorious CRMs by signing up for SalesNexus: https://www.salesnexus.com/; PLEXUS Worldwide: Reboot your health today! email them @ healthandliberty@proton.me or go to http://plexusworldwide.ca/healthandliberty; SUBSCRIBE TO OUR SHOWS/CHANNELS: LIBERTY DISPATCH PODCAST: https://libertydispatch.podbean.com; https://rumble.com/LDshow; CONTACT US: libertydispatch@pm.me STAY UP-TO-DATE ON ALL THINGS LD: Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/liberty_dispatch/; Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LibertyDispatchCanada; X: @LDCanada - https://x.com/_LDCanada; Rumble: https://rumble.com/LDshow; YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@libertydispatch Please LIKE, SUBSCRIBE, RATE, & REVIEW, and SHARE it with others!

Liberty Dispatch - Episode 314 ~ February 13, 2025In this episode of Liberty Dispatch, hosts Andrew Di Bartolo and Matt Hallick discuss the gathering of all 13 Canadian premiers in Washington, DC, to address President Trump’s tariffs on Canadian goods. They scrutinize Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s decision to prorogue Parliament and the ensuing legal challenge being heard in federal court. The episode also touches on the pervasive hypocrisy of newfound Canadian patriotism, the historical context of the National Flag of Canada Day, and Trump's provocative suggestion of Canada becoming the 51st U.S. state. Plus, hear about their upcoming interviews and exclusive content you won’t want to miss. Subscribe or follow our new Substack page: https://ldcanada.substack.com/; Chapters:00:00 Opening 01:00 Intro 01:30 Support and Subscription Information 03:27 Upcoming Interviews and Content 04:11 Personal Updates and Community News 05:34 Plexus Worldwide AD 06:48 Segment 1 - High-Level Hypocrisy as Low-IQ Patriotism 38:15 Economic Concerns and Inflation 39:06 BullBitcoin AD 42:38 Segment 2 - Provinces Panic as Tariff Threat Looms 45:01 Trump's 51st State Proposal 48:49 Chinese Influence and Fentanyl Trade56:20 SalesNexus AD 57:17 Court Hearing Over Prorogation 01:03:03 Listener Mailbag and Closing Remarks 01:09:38 Outro Segment 1 - High-Level Hypocrisy as Low-IQ Patriotism:“National Flag of Canada Day Campaign” | Government of Canada: https://www.canada.ca/en/canadian-heritage/campaigns/national-flag-canada-day.html; “Pierre Poilievre Tweet” | X: https://x.com/PierrePoilievre/status/1889320620497772748; “Alexander Kloosterman Facebook Post” | Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/alexander.kloosterman.73/posts/pfbid02LvqsjKHitXL94KedBwfB2ekngKBh2Tz38QT1yTXQh9JKt7AuXnDkPKczN5Chb2aCl; "A Different Canada Day Under an Ambiguous Flag” | Ottawa Citizen: https://ottawacitizen.com/news/local-news/deachman-a-different-canada-day-under-an-ambiguous-flag; “Glenda McFarlane Tweet” | X: https://x.com/McfarlaneGlenda/status/1886911299004850358; Segment 2 - Provinces Panic as Tariff Threat Looms:"Canadian Premiers in Washington DC on Mission to Stop Trump Tariffs” | Western Standard: https://www.westernstandard.news/canadian/canadian-premiers-in-washington-dc-on-mission-to-stop-trump-tariffs/62118; “Brian Lilley Tweet” | X: https://x.com/brianlilley/status/1888711229646282874; Segment 3 - Court Hearing Over Prorogation:“Federal Court Will Hear Prorogation Challenge This Week in Ottawa” | JCCF: https://www.jccf.ca/federal-court-will-hear-prorogation-challenge-this-week-in-ottawa/; SHOW SPONSORS:Invest with Rocklinc: info@rocklinc.com or call them at 905-631-546; Diversify Your Money with Bull Bitcoin: https://mission.bullbitcoin.com/dispatch;BarterPay: https://barterpay.ca/; Barter It: https://www.barterit.ca/;Get freedom from Censorious CRMs by signing up for SalesNexus: https://www.salesnexus.com/;PLEXUS Worldwide: Reboot your health today! email them @ healthandliberty@proton.me or go to http://plexusworldwide.ca/healthandliberty; SUBSCRIBE TO OUR SHOWS/CHANNELS:LIBERTY DISPATCH PODCAST: https://libertydispatch.podbean.com; https://rumble.com/LDshow; CONTACT US: libertydispatch@pm.me STAY UP-TO-DATE ON ALL THINGS LD:Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/liberty_dispatch/; Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LibertyDispatchCanada; X: @LDCanada - https://x.com/_LDCanada; Rumble: https://rumble.com/LDshow; YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@libertydispatch Please LIKE, SUBSCRIBE, RATE, & REVIEW, and SHARE it with others!

Mendocino County has responded to a request made by the group Mendocino County for Ethical Investing and divested $3 million from the Royal Bank of Canada. And, Monday was a day without immigrants. The point, according to one protester who posted on Instagram, was to demonstrate that American society is dependent on people with no legal status. But some tactics, such as flag burning backfired. 

Monday afternoon means a new episode of the Real Life Podcast is ready to kick off your week and help you make sense of this crazy little thing called life. On this week's podcast, the guys recapped their Christmas break and walked through all of the stories you missed over the last week since the last show.The guys kicked off the Monday episode of Real Life with a random selection of topics, ranging from Tyler's first egg nog in his adult life to how many hot dogs someone can eat before they're tired of them. That led Jay to tell the story of one of his Canada Day parties, where he overindulged on dogs and ended up having one of the worst experiences of his life.Changing gears, the guys shifted the podcast to how everyone spent their Christmas. For Jay, having a young daughter who's old enough to be excited for Santa was a wonderful experience. This year, Santa brought Crawford a GT Snow Racer, and it was a proud dad moment to see her cruising down the hill like a little speed demon.Sticking with the Christmas conversation, the guys talked about their favourite gifts from this year and how it made everyone feel incredibly old because all of the best presents were incredibly practical. If you're ever feeling old, nothing lets you know you're actually there quite like being excited about new pans and a fresh wok.Finally, the first episode of Real Life of the week wrapped with a conversation with some hockey talk. Starting with the World Juniors, the guys discussed whether they're still as excited as they used to be about the annual Christmas tourney. Was everyone more into the tournament when the Oilers were bad? As you'll hear, the tournament seems to have lost its lustre for the boys on the show as they've gotten older.

Promises To Keep. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. Note to readers: There is a bit of mangling of the Iliad going on. My apologies to Homer and the countless singers before him who carried the Iliad down through the dark centuries until the Greeks figured out how writing works. “Never judge a friend by what they give, but of how much of themselves they give.” (From the floor of Katrina's office) First thoughts,  I was on the floor where I had fallen, surrounded and being manhandled in the tenderest way. That was a romantic means of relating to my mummification. Those little Band-Aids that had been applied when I woke up from my coma had failed the 'Cáel is a Smeckle-head' test. All the crud they had pumped into my system and amperage they had channeled through my muscles was not the same as eating and exercise. Having a sexual romp with two ladies? My Goddess made plans for my body that my caloric bank account couldn't afford, thus me passing out. Unlike my time with Miyako and Estere, I had a feeling my two sofa-buddies were ovulating. Fatherhood was on the way. How my infant would survive the continuous poisonous assault on the augur's lymphatic system was beyond me. Her guardian, let's just say I dealt with sneaky bitches/Dot on a regular basis and leave it at that. "He is awake," Tadêfi alerted the room. "You must leave so I can deliver my message to him in the privacy he requested." "I am almost done," a different Amazon voice stated. She was the medico dealing with my wounds. By the aroma, she had slathered on two coats of the healing goo that was becoming as comfortable to my nostrils as my soap-on-a-rope. A few more rounds of adhesive tape and the exodus from the room began. I hadn't opened my eyes because I was unprepared for the looks of anger, disappointment and concern surely leveled my way. The door shut and my eyes opened. "The Conqueror, the Champion, the Friendless and the Foe have all escaped the Land of the Endless Black Sands and returned to the Sunlit Realm," Tadêfi whispered upon my lips. Huh? That was it? Seriously, four freaking titles without, And here came the rest, faces. Faces with eyes and eyes with a purpose. Names, not names I wanted to hear at the moment. Bad fucking news all around. It couldn't be something helpful like the identity of the next High Priestess, No, that would be good fucking news. Okay, time to turn this frown upside down. I could make this work for me. How, I wasn't sure. "Thank you," I responded to Tadêfi's plea of understanding. Outside of having impregnating sex with me, the Sex-Master, Timothy was going to Nerf-shoot me for that, she'd endured spiritual, mental and physical grief and torment to be with me here today. She waited, kneeling beside my head. "Kiss me," I requested. It was a moist act, full of compassion and understanding. I racked my mind for the names and their importance. "Who was Shammuramat?" "I don't know, but this helps, right?" Tadêfi expressed her need to make the reward for the sacrifices to make sense. Five dead sister-augurs. They had to find that son-of-a-bitch! "Tadêfi, we are back in the fight," I grinned. "You and your sisters have given the Host a mighty weapon in the upcoming struggle." I knew that to be true because I knew who and where the Conqueror was, I knew he wasn't ready to be revealed, his enemies were closing in and he was ignorant of that fact. I was going to have to rain on his parade to save his life. The five augurs hadn't died futilely. The Weave of Fate had shielded the man and it took the augers' fanatical devotion to cut the threads and expose the truth the Host needed most. The Champion, hell, I knew who he was. I chuckled. Tadêfi was confused. The Champion was coming to kill me, me and a bunch of other Amazons, because blood feuds tend to run both ways. The Foe. He was easy enough. Granddad. The Bastard just wouldn't stay dead. I had a clue to what was going on now. I wasn't sure how useful that knowledge would be. Still, knowledge is knowledge. That thing crawling around inside my brain? No help there. That left Shammuramat. That name was familiar. Even when I finally placed it, I didn't understand her role in things. Why her? "Krasimira," I called out. I struggled to sit up and with Tadêfi's help, I did so. The Keeper and two guardians entered as well. One, Sikia, hovered over her companion/augur. "What is the link between Shammuramat and the Host?" I inquired. I saw no recognition in the Keeper's eyes. "She was the first ever "independent" queen of a nation-state, Assyria." Krasimira sat on the sofa and retrieved her tablet from inside her robes. She began working with the electronic history of the Amazon race. "9th Century BCE," I added. Slowly others migrated back into the room. Buffy, Katrina (not good and not happy), Elsa (really not good) and Desiree. Pamela leaned against the door sill, neither in nor out. Katrina sat behind her desk. The phone came out and whispered conversations began in earnest. I had shoved us straight into a war which looked like a free for all at the moment. No one trusted anyone. No one could afford to. I had to change that. The only saving grace was that it appeared no Secret Society had planned for the Protocols to abruptly end a week and a half ago. "Ah, I found it," Krasimira spoke up. Because I'm me, it was at that moment I finally realized that someone had put me in my biking shorts in an effort to provide me a modicum of modesty, with the benefit of blood being smeared on the inside. "She abandoned the Host, she was put under a death sentence for killing her twin sister who was chosen to lead House Anat over her." "Anat?" I queried. "The other dead First House," Krasimira sighed. "They were renowned for their berserkers. Some would drape themselves in the entrails of their enemies in the midst of battle to increase their ferocious appearance." "Oh, how sweet, what was Ishara known for?" I was surprised I'd never asked. "Ishara were the emissaries of the Host," Krasimira informed me. With the Amazon practice of killing embassies sent their way, the extinction of my house made much more sense. "What does this mean?" Desiree took charge of matters since Katrina was still busy on the phone. In a few short weeks, Desiree's prestige had definitely increased. Katrina was her sister in more than name now. "Where to begin,  Fine, why don't we refer to the Mycenaeans by their proper Amazon name?" Everyone but Buffy was glancing about nervously. "You used the name, didn't you?" Elsa rubbed the bridge of her nose, dreading the response. "Yes, " I answered. "Because no one warns him of shit," Pamela huffed. "You assume an Amazon education with no basis in reality. You act like he grew up with our fairy tales and phantasmal histories. Everyone in this room, but Buffy," she acknowledge my First, "knew he spoke our language and the accompanying risk. Still, no one warned him." "You didn't warn him," Desiree skewered Pamela with a glance. "Not my job, Buttons," Pamela chuckled. "I relish the rest of you being made to look like idiots too much to be useful to Cáel unless it really matters. So he invoked an ancient malediction. What is the worst that could happen?" "I'm going to make a huge deductive leap, am I the reason the Achaean hero Ajax and his boys are back from the dead and coming after us for some Ako-level vengeance?" I groaned. (That's the 47 Ronin for us Westerners) Silence. "That's not your fault, Sport," Pamela snorted. "Mano-man, was I a dumbass for doing nothing. I'll take the blame for that one ladies. Damn Cáel, you would have to pick the Unconquered One, wouldn't you?" "Who is this guy and why does he hate us?" Buffy interjected. Pause. "Our ancestors poisoned his wine so that, in his angry haze, he mistook his own men for his enemies and slaughtered them all, back during the Trojan War. Afterwards, he committed suicide in anguish over his crime, Death opened his eyes at the last, he saw our treachery and managed to curse us as he died," Krasimira informed the lot of us. "And my using that word brought him back? That sounds, weak," I grunted. "The word would not have been enough," Tadêfi comforted me. "There must have been some sort of rift in the curtain of Reality that allowed the others to slip through. I don't understand how, oh no," she gasped as the pieces came together. "I'm willing to believe that was the price of doing business," I petted Tadêfi's cheek. "Please enlighten us," Elsa grumbled. "I need to find the Earth  and  Sky ambassador and set up a new meeting. Using what Tadêfi has gifted me with and the sacrifice of her fellow augurs, I can secure an alliance for us if only I can make up for the whole stunt Troika played," I grinned. "Any ideas?" "We could call them," Pamela produced my phone. "Seems some lady named Hana Sulkanen has been trying for days to get in touch with you. She hunted down the owner of the necklace, they talked about your current physical state, courtesy of Odette, and the owner of the necklace has expressed a continued interest in meeting you, and only you. It would appear that they really don't trust the rest of our merry little band since your first disappearance." Hana, and here I had killed her step-brother, the one she despised. An unexpected benefit of civil discourse, my People's chance of survival had doubled. Pamela lobbed my phone and I caught it. "What of the other two?" Tadêfi pushed down on my euphoria. "Was the Foe dead as well?" A quick look at Pamela told me she knew the answer to that. "The Foe is complicated," I lied. "His return was an inevitability, so we count that as a draw. The Champion, bad news. Let's put Shammy in the 'maybe' column and the Conqueror is a win for our side." A Berserker Queen, fresh from the Underworld, who we were honor-bound to kill,  or the 'other lost heir to a dead House' that was going to make us cobble together some nonsense to bring her back into the fold. If I wasn't the male leader of a spiritually significant All-Girls social club/paramilitary outfit, I might have been daunted by my prospects of achieving the latter. "The thing going on inside your head?" Elsa asked. That explained her presence. My mental capacity was still suspect. Was I still me? Could I flip out with no warning? "It is still there. I still have no idea what happened to me, or what the results might be. This means I'm going into battle wounded and that's that," I stated. "Are you acting in the best interest of the Host," Elsa studied me. "I am not sure," I confessed after half a minute's introspection. "So many of you are fuck-nuts; I'm not sure what acting responsible is for this set," I added jokingly. "As it stand, you lack the authority to pass judgment on me, Elsa. I promise you that if I feel I'm losing control, I will turn myself in." "Saint Marie would feel better if you stayed here," Elsa insisted. "Is the SD declaring war on House Ishara?" Buffy rose to the challenge. "We (by that she meant my fellow Isharans) have discussed the matter and talked to our best neuroscientist. She cannot definitively tell us Cáel isn't Cáel, so there is no reason to constrain him." Whoa. In our best prospect's educated opinion I was not-not me. Legions of English teachers weren't going to like that. "I have the answer for that," Katrina spoke up. "I owe Cáel and I would pay that debt now. He expressed a desire to see my niece, Aya. Do you still wish that Cáel Ishara?" "More than ever, but the Council is meeting," I sighed. "Buffy is your (dead word spoken), your apprentice," Katrina suggested. "Appoint someone to stand with her." That was more than good advice. Buffy was a woman and, to those who knew of her, as fierce an Amazon as ever lived. That was what Katrina was telling me without telling me. "I choose Daphne Pile, if she will accept, to stand by Buffy's side," I announced. Buffy would need someone who was passionate for my cause and who spoke Old Kingdom Hittite. Buffy still didn't, and the chance of the Council speaking English on her behalf was non-existent. "That is Daphne of House Cotyttia," Pamela corrected me. Who Cotyttia was? I had no idea. I was stupid to think Daphne's actual Amazon surname was Pile. Daphne wasn't even around. Executive Services was functioning fine without me and that meant Daphne had a work queue. "The Thracian Goddess of Sex, Orgies, War and Slaughter," Krasimira gracefully filled in my ignorance. Another whoa, why wasn't she my matron goddess? Tadêfi hauled off and slapped me. The action seemed to take everyone, Tadêfi included, by surprise. "I don't know why I did that," Tadêfi wailed out in despair. I did. It didn't take telepathy to figure out what I had been thinking. To prove my point, Pamela laughed. I cupped Tadêfi's jaw. "Worry not," I cooed. "I had that coming, Dot Ishara," I dodged another one, "isn't happy with me right now." Recall, Tadêfi was hooked up to an old-fashioned party line with the Beyond. "Animaniacs," Pamela snorted. "I so love you. It is my deep and abiding pleasure to have you as my Grandson." "I'm not your grandson," I countered. "Well, I say you are. Now be quiet and accept the shame," Pamela's eyes danced with amusement. "That makes me, Daphne and Brielle incest," I pointed out. "Amazons don't have an incest taboo," Pamela retorted. Duh. They are all women, no chance of seven fingered, Cyclops babies. "Ah, women, misunderstanding and pain, Buffy, would you check out Quebec and see if I'm still wanted in that province for bestiality. It could be important later," I commanded. "Bestiality?" only one woman failed to mutter, sputter or exclaimed. "The complainant in question is not that pissed at you anymore," Katrina's rolodex mind kicked in. "I believe she expressed a desire to question you about some missing accoutrements though." My splitting headache meant I had to think about that, ah yes, her dress uniform. It was/had been Canada Day, thus her having an official function and thus me cheating with the girl from across the hall in the Mountie's bed. I'm an idiot alright and my ability to keep an eye on the clock needs improvement. My last image of her, frothing at the mouth (she was a tad more possessive than I had anticipated) as she screamed out insults in Quebecois French concerning my lineage, personality failings and the treasured parts of my anatomy. She punctuated various parts of that deranged episode by hurling articles of her clothing over the border at me as I turned (once I had good Ole US soil/pavement under my feet) and tried to get us back together. Yes, I had them, just not in my Box of Failed Romances. Acting on hopes of reconciliation, I had the uniform dry cleaned, placed in a dress bag, and the boots polished; both currently occupying space in my closet. At least the Alburgh-Noyan Crossing guards (it is a dual Canadian-American post) appreciated me evading/begging forgiveness long enough for them to see her in only her bra and panties. I imagine they didn't normally get much excitement there. "Katrina, " I began. "Yes, Maya forgives you too, though she scored an 'At Risk' for reliability. Anais sounded genuine," Katrina related. Anais was the Mountie. Maya was the Guyane Française university student from across the hall, the one I was caught cheating with. I had told her I was Anais's brother. Maya was also a super-exceptional cook. "Cáel Ishara, who are these women we are talking about?" Sikia demanded. 'We', that didn't take long. We were now a 'we', which in Amazon meant 'male, you're my property'. "I have a sideline job as an Amway distributor," I replied. "I give crappy customer service." "You give awesome customer service," Katrina riposted. "That's the problem." "Sikia, you are not the first Amazon Cáel has stuck his dick into. You are probably not the tenth," Elsa dripped with frustration. Quick count: Rhada, Buffy, Oneida and Gael, I was only going to count the penile-vaginal penetrations. "They are only numbers five and six, thank you very much," I defended myself. "So much for your 'intern, no sex' policy," Desiree muttered. "Cut me some slack, I work with stone-cold, Olympic level athlete foxes 24/7," I griped. "I am a sexual being too, I have needs." "What about the 'End of Internship' hunting shindig?" Desiree pulled a flawless 'Katrina'. "Oh, it is still on. With my 'do or die' learning curve, it is going to be so much more fun," I grinned. "And, okay, no more Amazon sex until then, sorry Rachel." "Except for house members," Buffy insisted. "No exceptions," Elsa demanded. "I'll keep an eye on him," Pamela resolved the issue. "No more Amazon boinking for him." She was such a liar. She was also a highly accomplished liar because everyone bought it. On with my life. Stage one: exit Katrina's office. Done deal, no problems. Stage two: set up meeting with the Earth  and  Sky. They wanted to meet on their ground. Since I was the uncertain factor in these negotiations, I agreed. I was bringing one, Pamela raised four fingers, four people with me. Who? Outside of Pamela, I had no idea. Stage three: going to medical and putting on my business suit, it was a new one and very, very nice. I was moving up into serious majestic magnate territory. I also picked up buddy number two, FBI Special Agent Virginia Maddox. Why had I chosen a federal agent to accompany me to a meeting between two secret societies? I hadn't a clue. Sometimes you have to roll with these things. In the lobby, I picked up number three, Delilah, Mom's MI-6 operative/baby-sitter. Compassionate, caring people were surrounding me all the time. It gave me this sensation of a 'down home' environment no matter where I went, if down home was Gaza, or Donetsk. I think my entourage/lifestyle observation teams had grown to encompass six cars. I was in no condition for riding my bike, so that recourse was denied me. Taxi? One, most were hard-working stiffs like my family who didn't deserve to be caught in a noontime, drive-by assassination attempt. Besides, with my luck I'd meet the guy from Qatar again, the one with the sister with cute eyes. That reminded me, I gave Nicole a call. "How are you doing?" she quickly inquired. "Good," I lied to a past master of shattering perjury. Pause. "I'm surrounded by girls with guns, tailed by your clients, some part of a Federal Task force and some people who I don't know yet. Hold on." I put my hand over my phone. "Delilah, are you packing heat?" I asked softly. She opened her jacket revealing paired revolvers in shoulder holsters. I didn't recognize them so the Brit gave me the 4-1-1. "Ruger Alaskans," she grinned. Bing! Now I recalled them. The girl who taught me to shoot once read some reviews of that beast on her laptop while I gave her a slow, passionate screw from behind. She became all hot and bothered, wiggling, squirming and generally having a grandiose time with my cock deep within. I repeat, this girl really loved guns, a huge cerebral G-spot for her. Oh yeah, the Ruger Alaskan is what you get if you are worried about Grizzly bears popping their heads through the tent flaps late at night. Delilah was probably packing 4 80's. Her guns would turn 250 kilograms of pissed off ursine into an excellent throw-rug in about two shots. In an urban environment,  well, maybe she thought the New York Giants were actually giants, or something like that. Two were overkill, unless you expected someone needing to borrow one. "Just checked. I remain the only one unarmed in my personal carnival of carnage, " my words trailed up to an unintelligible mumble. I was mumbling because suddenly four handguns were casually offered up for my use (Tiger Lily was holding one over her shoulder as she drove), in the same way you'd offer up some Nicorette to a man jonesing for a smoke. Rachel was kind enough to hand me my familiar Glock-22 and Ruger 38 caliber with their accompanying holsters. Two spare clips followed, then I stashed the lot. I scratched my calf. It took me a second to realize I was reaching for my pistol. No, not the one at my hip, or my ankle, but the one, in my boot? "Now that you've been handed firearms of dubious origin, can I get back to questioning you," the FBI agent intruded upon my ruminations. "We were discussing that list of people that are visiting a morgue instead of a court room. What can you tell me?" "Bye Nicole. Miss you. Being interrogated by a blonde FBI lady with a whips scar on her eyebrow and eyes that could scare a badger back into its hole. Later," I cut of my lawyer's fierce demand that I keep my mouth shut. "Nothing useful that wouldn't implicate myself and others in a criminal conspiracy," I answered her. "There is no way I'd name anyone else I suspect of involvement. I feel no guilt over what has happened, so no remorseful confession, and that is based on my belief that cosmic justice has been achieved." "You can't create lists of people for execution," Maddox persisted. "That negates the whole justice system and the principle of innocent until proven guilty." Wow! Except for the two of us, every other person in the car snorted their derision of Maddox's presumptive naiveté. "Do you even believe the tripe spilling from your pie-hole?" Delilah mocked Maddox. "I'm in law enforcement. That means I enforce the laws, not interpret them, or choose which ones I want to obey and which ones to ignore," Virginia fought back. "Love, that's crap and you know it. You are an agent of the US government. You bomb, drone-strike, overthrow lawfully elected governments and assassinate in your nation's best interests," Delilah countered. "You selectively enforce your Constitution when it suits you." "I'm law enforcement, not the military or foreign affairs. Know the difference," Maddox glared. "The pay master is the same,  you willingly collect your thirty pieces of silver; get off your high horse because you are in the shat now, Agent Maddox. I haven't known this crowd an hour and I know for a fact that you are the only US citizen onboard," Delilah chortled. "I don't know their bleeding nationality, but I doubt it is on the UN Charter." Maddox turned to me. "That was succinct and rather accurate," I murmured. "Special Agent Maddox, I have the sneaking suspicion that you are with us because FP (federal prosecutor) Castello feels you can handle this, Umm, unusual set of circumstance. I promise you this, it is going to get worse." "Why don't we test this quaint theory?" FBI Lass challenged us. "Jail, bail, and I'm waking up in Rio de Janeiro in two days," I sighed. "I have a few thousand in the bank, live in a hole and own my father's home, when it clears probate. Only you know I'm flight risk. A dozen people will vouch/lie about my character and that's that. All you've succeeding in doing is making enemies when you need friends." "There is still a matter of multiple people dead under suspicious circumstance," she said. "Imagine for a second that Cáel admits to creating a hit list," Pamela began. "He would never give up the names of the other people involved. He didn't kill anyone, or say 'kill them'. Now what? You still have an abysmal case to put before a judge. Add to that, the mitigating factor of a raped girl. You get to break her down until she's a cooperating witness because she's the only one who can provide you with Cáel's motive," my mentor continued. "Good for you and your team. She gets to betray the man who tried to save her. Cáel promised horrific retribution if any of those in the now-dead crowd hurt her. That is rather unlike him, he normally forgives when given the least excuse. I don't give a damn about women's rights, or the rights of rape victims. I really could give a shit about human rights for that matter. Wronging me is the surest way to early retirement. It is not a matter of strong versus weak, or right versus wrong. What matters to me is who I can trust. I don't know you, thus I don't trust you. I trust your government to be so much chicken shit. I base this on the lack of public torture and execution. I want the families of dying criminals paraded in front of those cock-suckers before the condemned finally perish in agony. I want to see thieves get their forearms hacked off, trial by combat, and respect for your elders. I want to see public officials being sacrificed upon the altar of Jehovah when they leave office. I want to see a system of justice with a soul, not law books thicker than an aircraft carrier's hull. A government 'of the People, by the People, for the People' should be the sole guiding force for your culture and we both know that's never going to happen. I admire your soldiers; not because they are brave and combat effective, they are. I admire them because they are fighting and dying for elected officials and a population that can't locate Afghanistan, or Iraq on a map, can't tell the difference between a Sikh and a Muslim, and thinks 'Pashtun' is an exotic piece of furniture. I admire them because they are better human beings despite you, not because of you," Pamela was coming to her crescendo. "Basically you people, by that I mean most of the human race, are dangerous in your idiocy, arrogance and pride in your ignorance. Not one of you should be allowed to use weapons, or play with fire. For you, unrestricted voting is a crime right up there with inventing, disease prevention, bilingualism and anything that perpetuates your educational system." "Lady, why are you so angry with the world?" Maddox studied Pamela intensely. I wished her luck with divining and then unwrapping that lady's mind. "I hold dear to my heart anyone's hunger to learn, honesty when it hurts and love no matter what the cost, so I find myself alone most of the time," Pamela grinned. "Above even those, I adore humor in the face of ridicule, condemnation and adversity. You can dodge bullets and parry knives. Humor always strikes home," she finished. "It is the perfect weapon." "Liar," I smiled. "You like high performance automobiles too." Did she? I didn't know. "Only with a 2X4 pressing the accelerator as it races toward the lip of a canyon," Pamela bantered back, "with Ursula K. Le Guin strapped in the back seat." "Who?" I inquired. "She's an author. I take exception to some of her work and unwillingness to appreciate the fusion of exceptional feminine characteristics with power positions," Pamela answered. "And your critique of her life's work is an exploding car at the bottom of a cliff?" I smiled. "Starting uncontrolled wildfires and littering, two of my favorite activities," she laughed. "I'll stick with blondes and brunettes, and red- and raven-haired, bald has its own appeal, green and purple have their own kink going on, " I joked. "Wait! We were talking about people being murdered and you two are cracking jokes?" Maddox rumbled. "I had a dream about tying them together with nylon cord and tossing them off the back ramp of a transport aircraft, and watching them fall, and fall," Rachel sighed dreamily. "Atta girl," I play-punched Rachel's shoulder. "What is your part in all of this?" Maddox turned to Rachel. "I'm the head of his bodyguard detail," Rachel gave her confession of the damned. "And you want to kill him, " Virginia struggled to keep up. "Given time, you will too," Rachel promised. "According to his pre-employment records, only one woman he's had a sexual relationship with hasn't wanted to at least hurt him," glaring at me, "badly." "The nun doesn't want me dead!" I vocally protested. "It is so wrong that you are proud that of over 200 women you've slept with, TWO have not, at some point in knowing you, wanted to maul you and one of those is in the 'forgiving' business," Rachel chastised me. Virginia had an answer for my madness. Her phone came out and she hit speed-dial, work. "Ms. Castello, this is Special Agent Maddox, do you have a moment?" Virginia calmly asked when she finally wrangled my current-favorite fed's attention. "You do now? Thank you. I'd like to know what the fuck have you done to me? This assignment is nuts. Either I'm part of some elaborate prank, or I'm in an S U V with escapees from the looney bin." Ten seconds later Maddox gave me the phone. "Stop it. I've upheld my end of the bargain, so behave," Javiera ordered. Man, she'd shot me straight to the core and we hadn't even slept together yet. Clever, clever girl. "Yes Ma'am," I swore. "I'll do my best to buffer Special Agent Maddox from the truth." "I'll have to accept that," Javiera conceded. "Give Maddox the phone back." A brief conversation later and Maddox was no better off than when she started. Thankfully we parked in front of the Kazakhstan Consulate in New York, giving us all an excuse to face facts. Maddox was feeling compelled to ask questions she didn't want the answers to, and that we didn't want to answer. Saved by work. "Kazakhstan Consulate? Why are we here?" both Virginia and Rachel asked. "Oh! This is going to be good," Pamela leaned forward excitedly. "Change the course of human history," I answered with a great deal of confidence I didn't feel. See, I had knowledge critical to the Earth  and  Sky. That knowledge was also something they wanted kept compartmentalized, so they might take exception to it being possessed by an outsider. Oh,  so that's why Pamela earlier insisted on four ladies being with me, so we could shoot our way out if things turned ugly. I hugged my mentor. "Thank you, Pamela." "You are coming along nicely, Mr. Potter," Pamela patted my cheek. "Your praise leaves me suspicious, Professor Snape. Besides, if I'm going to die, it helps me to know you'll go first ." "That was uncalled for," Pamela chided me. It was the 'Snape' role she rejected. "Snape gave up his life for Harry, Dumbledore died for Draco," I countered. "Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that," Pamela shone with joy and pride. "You act like I have a choice," I sighed. "Touché," Pamela nodded. "I see what you mean about these two," Maddox addressed Rachel. "Oh my God," Delilah laughed. "You wove Harry Potter into a life and death conversation and it made sense. I am probably going to die, but I'll die knowing I have lived." "Not you too?" Maddox glared at Delilah. Rachel just shook her head. We exited the car, settled ourselves out. Rachel took point, Delilah took one flank while Pamela took the other. By happenstance, I ended up in the middle, yeah right, with Virginia covering my back. "You stay here," Pamela put a hand on Rachel's shoulder. "You'll need to lead the team in if someone 'pumps up the volume'." Interesting euphemism for 'when people start killing people'. "What are we doing today?" Miyako 'appeared'. She'd been walking down the sidewalk toward us, the Kazak Consulate was a townhouse, but her presence hadn't registered. "I require your pledge of silence on what is to transpire. No death is intended," I stated calmly to Miyako. "I didn't know you were versed in ninja contracts, much less spoke Japanese?" Miyako responded. Blink. "I didn't know I spoke it either, " I mumbled. "No sweat," Pamela tried to hustle us along. "He's a quick study." Yeah. I didn't feel it apropos to point out I hadn't heard myself speaking Japanese, or understood that my words had some secret meaning. "How important is this to my people?" Miyako asked. Now that I was paying attention to it, I could make out that she was speaking in her native tongue. "If they don't think we can be trusted to not speak of what is to transpire for a week, they are going to kill us," I related my suspicions. "My mind and heart are joined in this decision." "I give you my pledge," Miyako nodded. She looped her arm in mine. "Does anyone care to enlighten me?" Maddox prodded. Whoa. It seemed that, beside me and Miyako, only Pamela spoke Japanese. "Special Agent Maddox, no matter what, don't give up your gun, when we say run, run, and shoot to kill because they will be trying to kill us," I informed her. "Does the term 'extraterritoriality' mean anything to anyone here?" Maddox snapped. Her nervousness was totally understandable. I stopped at the top of the steps, looking over my shoulder. I nodded. Pamela, Delilah and Miyako nodded as well. "Hold on, I can't believe I'm saying this. Does anyone have a back-up I can use?" Maddox groaned. Rachel quick-stepped forward and handed over a 22 automatic pistol then a spare clip with a smooth, practiced motion that suggested that SD swapped weapons all the time. Maddox didn't miss the casualness of the gesture. The firearm and magazine disappeared. "Fine, we will never discuss the laws we just butchered, ever, and if I die and any of you make it out alive, I will seek revenge at whatever cost FROM WHEREVER I AM," FBI girl growled. "One of us," Pamela smirked at me as I touched the doorbell. It opened promptly. We weren't on a crowded street, we were on their stoop and a security camera was pointed right at us. We were invited in and two rather Caucasian-looking gentlemen (Kazaks are a mixed bag of Turks and Cumans) were waiting with the doorman. They looked tough in that they took personality lessons from saddle leather. "You will place your weapons there," the more charismatic of the two spoke up. He was pointing to a side table that looked large enough for the task. "No," was the most courteous response I could muster. He didn't look surprised. He didn't look much like he was breathing, or blinking either. "Go," he pointed to the door. I looked to Pamela. "Well, that didn't take long," I grinned. I felt out the necklace under my shirt and pulled it over my head. "Please return this to its owner in the spirit it was given." He took it. The doorman opened the door and out we went. Rachel was back in our GL550, using the door as possible cover. She said we could take our seats and away we rolled. Maddox looked apoplectic. She had prepared herself for the Wild, Wild West, not a doe-see-doe at the door. In her mind, I had wound her up for nothing. My phone rang. "Cáel Ishara, there seems to have been a diplomatic miscommunication," a male native Turkish-speaker said in heavily accented English. "The person you are meeting must be approached in the spirit of peace." "No, I understood you perfectly," I assured him. "We aren't the Brownies, or the Girl Scouts, Buddy. I don't know, or trust you and you don't know, or trust me, yet. I will compromise though. I will respect your traditions. I will enter your home unarmed. In turn, everyone in the building will line up outside on the street except for the person I'm supposed to meet. Is that acceptable?" Pause. "Do you hate these people, or like them?" Maddox grumbled. "With you, I can't quite tell." "That would not be acceptable," the man finally responded. "Perhaps an alternative. You come in, alone yet armed." "Nope. Due to the efforts of people far smarter than me, I know pretty much who I am meeting, so I am either very rude, insane, or bear a message that is worth my life," I countered. "Your personal safety is guaranteed," was the counter-offer. "That is a false promise, not because you lack honor, or respect for me, but because you are from a wise and noble lineage with a historical propensity of cutting to the heart of any problem." By that, I meant they'd cut my heart out. "What I expect is for every one of you to hold the future of the Earth  and  Sky above any such concepts as personal promises, hospitality, and honor. I am even putting my faith in your willingness to put the survival of the Earth  and  Sky over your own well-being," I riposted. "If the message is so crucial, you should be willing to come alone," back at me. "It isn't important to me," I stated. "Listen, a war is about to break out. Unless we both want to be found all alone in the outhouse masturbating when the headsman comes, one of us has to blink. Today, it is you. Tomorrow you may be able to return the favor and mess with my head." Pause. "Your koumiss is getting warm." "We'll be right there. We apologize for the delay. Traffic is murder these days, or a close facsimile thereof," I gave a little back in the humility department. "Tiger Lily, " "On it, Ishara, Wakko Ishara. I've been circling the block," Tiger Lily had anticipated my antics. Sure, I acted like I had no game plan, but I never wasted people's time. Maybe if I developed an actual game plan I could do even better. "Wakko Ishara?" it was Delilah's and Maddox's turn to share a 'what the?' moment. "May I explain the sacred names?" Rachel requested of me. "I have a feeling these two might become a fixture." "By all means, Rachel. Our trust runs deep," I trusted Rachel with more than my life; I trusted her with my future. "Wakko, as in you're the nutty one?" Delilah made a stab at our arcane nomenclature. If you use small words does that make it gnomenclature? Pamela winked at me, psychic twin grandmother powers activate! "We need complementary rings," Pamela remarked. Sweet! "Cáel Ishara is differentiated as Wakko Ishara, Ishara, first of House Ishara, is Yakko Ishara, and, " Rachel began. "The Animaniacs? Your code names are the Warner Brothers and their sister Dot?" Maddox gasped. "You are beyond nuts." "And the Goddess Ishara is named, by House Ishara and House Ishara alone," Rachel made some warding appeal against divine punishment, "as Dot Ishara." Maddox's face shown with disbelief. "Following Cáel Ishara into battle has been one of my greatest pleasures," Rachel stared at Maddox. "I never knew insanity could be so liberating, or that laughing at death could be such an aphrodisiac." "When did you two go into battle?" Delilah wondered. "In a morgue, fighting to retrieve the body of his fallen father so that our enemies could not desecrate it," Rachel explained. Ah, the walls of Troy, fighting over the spoils of the dead. "You mean when I face-planted?" I grinned at Rachel. "Even without a weapon, your instincts were good, forcing our enemy to commit to multiple angles of coverage even though your efforts were foiled by a footing failure. Your rushing their leader was even more heroic in that you were unarmed and using your body as a decoy, knowing your enemy's superior skill would stop him from shooting you," Rachel smiled my way, sex. "Let me get this straight," Miyako finally spoke up. "You charged an enemy unarmed then stumbled and failed. They were armed?" "Yes, with a 3 57 Magnum revolver and a 10 gauge sawed-off automatic shotgun, in tight confines and close range, oh, and no cover." Maddox replied, then to me, "I read the report." "Then you repeated the action a few minutes," Miyako. "Less than a minute later," Maddox clarified. "A minute later, wow! You are as fearless as we've heard. Please don't die before we have a baby," Miyako gave me a quick hug. If you cover a zeppelin with uranium paint, can it still fly, or does it sink to the center of the Earth? Ninja babies, We had returned to the stairs at the Consulate. This time the door swung open upon our approach. "Is there some drug you are all taking to bask in this shared fantasy life?" Maddox mumbled. "One of us," Pamela retorted. "One of us." "One of us," I joined in. It helped cut the tension. The bodyguards were present right where we'd them last time. They ushered us up the stairs to a second floor sitting room that ate up half the floor. There were two men there; radiating that subtle assurance that a half-dozen killers were close by. The man standing was Iskender, the E and S emissary from Dad's funeral. I broke all decorum, strode to the man, locked arms, hugged him tight and patted him on the back. "Thank the spirits you are here," I whispered, "all this lack of dick is making me a bit stir-crazy." "Ah, yes, it is good to see you again too," Iskender imparted as we broke our embrace. His boss, the guy on the sofa, shot me and my Kyrgyz buddy a sharp look. The Main Man was clearly Mongolian and must have thought blank, white walls exhibited too much empathy. "Koumiss," the boss offered. I sipped it from a simple, yet regal drinking mug that probably hit the kiln 200 years ago. "Mare, or yak?" I inquired as I handed the cup around. Iskender came first, but it was clearly my intention that we all partake. It was more a matter of the host's pledge of sanctuary than me wanting to share the koumiss. It tasted like thin, lightly chilled, bitter beer with a vanilla-almond milk shake-chaser. "Mare, of course. Please sit," he offered. He defined the suggestion by slipping off the sofa onto the layered carpet rug. He was semi-reclined, so we followed suit. "We should pray for the protection of the spirits," was the suggestion that wasn't a suggestion. It was his itinerary. He clapped his hands and from beyond a curtained partition came this really sensual Mongolian chick carrying a large brass bowl. She flicked her eyes at me and an instant connection was formed. She liked to bark like a dog under the full moon, okay, I'm not sure where that came from. "Nice woman," I told the leader. "She looks like she has seen many winters." Whoa! Where the fuck did that come from? I got a shocked reaction from Iskender. The Leader looked pissed, if a flake of paint on the white wall indicated anger. The girl blushed like what I said was an incredible turn on. "She is my daughter," the Leader pointed out. Way past swallowing my foot. My ankle was tasty. "My name is Oyuun Tömörbaatar. My faithful Iskender, you know. This is my daughter T. Sarangerel. She is studying at N Y U and is not entertaining marriage proposals at this time," he slapped down his boundaries. Somehow 'I only want to sleep with her' didn't sound like the right response. Wait! Saying his 'daughter had many winters' was a marriage bargaining opening move. What the fuck! "What I meant was that surely many men have died trying to come before you," I back-pedaled. More happy looks from the daughter. More paint peeling from the dad. Pamela made sure more koumiss was going around. Getting drunk could hardly hurt at this juncture. Sarangeral placed the bowl between us. It was filled with clear, cold water undoubtedly collected from a mountain-fed glacier. "Let us cleanse our hands in the water so that we may speak with clarity," O. Tömörbaatar said. We dipped our fingers and, for a second, I saw him. Not 'O', but HIM. "It is good to finally meet you Ferko Ishara Cáel Nyilas," the man said. My Spidey senses told me he was feeling less 'good' about this meeting every second. "How can your people and mine better get along?" 'Let me impregnate your daughter', would probably get my skull split open. "No time for that," I replied. "I know where HE is. The Seven Pillars have found a way to search the Weave and are closing in. You must act with haste." Whether it was disbelief, or old schooled Ku Chun in the art of gambling, the older man gave no outward reaction. "Where is he?" O. Tömörbaatar asked in a gentle tone. "I can do you one better," I steeled myself for the unknown forces I was invoking. I put my hands on the bowl's lip and looked in. Several seconds later, he did as well. For a moment, nothing. It was like a ripple in reverse. The first earth tremor I barely noticed. The ripples grew and grew until I felt the whole row of townhouses would come crashing down. Wind snapped the locks on the windows, flinging them wide open and tearing at the curtains like streamers in a hurricane. Then we saw HIM clearly. HE stopped driving this old, beat-up Peugeot and was pulling to the side of a desolate stretch of highway. HE could sense something yet couldn't pinpoint the source of his unease. We definitely got the impression this wasn't his first taste of this experience, the Seven Pillars. He was young, maybe my age. He looked like an educated man turned vagabond/boundless traveler. HIS eyes, his eyes had a depth that were a microcosm of what I'd glimpsed in Ishara, Dot Ishara's unshielded glance when we first met. All lingering doubts vanished in my mind. "I know that place," O T muttered, his eyes fixated on the only feature in the vacant expanse, a road sign, in Chinese. Yikes. "I know that place." The image faded. Our meeting venue was intact. Whatever I felt transpire, I had shared with O. Tömörbaatar alone. "You have work to do," I stated as I cleared my throat. "I will leave you to it." I stood. "What do you wish for this gift?" O T reached out and touched my sleeve. "When the time comes, maybe you can help us," I replied. "A man who asks for nothing can expect anything," O T smiled for the first time. "Go." I did not take a fear-free breath until the cars started up and we pulled away. He'd let us live. Even with that priceless piece of magical insight, he'd let us live. "I'm still stunned we got out alive," I sighed. "I wasn't really sure he'd take the news as well as he did." No one said anything for a minute. "Why would he have killed us?" Delilah inquired. "You, I understand. I don't know what you communicated to that young lady, but the old guy wasn't happy about it. He was going to kill us over that?" Pause. "What did the rest of you see and hear?" I looked around the cabin. Pamela appeared worried. "I didn't know you spoke Chagatai," Miyako smiled at me. "You are full of surprise. I only caught a word, or two, and none of it made sense." "MRI," I groaned. "Magnetoencephalography," Pamela said in the same breath. "Mine is better, Boyo." "What is going on?" Rachel upped her alertness level. "We need to take Cáel to a hospital that has a Magnetoencephalography device," Pamela insisted. "He's spontaneously speaking languages he didn't know moments earlier, " Maddox put things together first. The rest nodded at her assessment. "We'll need to have his records from Havenstone sent over as a baseline." Poor Virginia, the absurdity of my life was sucking her in. "I'll call Katrina," Rachel informed us. I was a mental case once more. At least my input was still being solicited. "How many guns do you have on you?" Pamela zinged me. The answer was obvious, two. My Glock and my back-up. That didn't seem right. "Ah, two?" I responded. "Yeah, something is happening to your muscle memory as well," Pamela shook her head. "What exactly does that mean, and what's wrong with Cáel's brain?" Delilah studied the group. "It means he could spontaneously pull out his gun and start shooting us?" Pamela confessed her uncertainty. "I don't know. We'd better figure out which impulses are his guiding light right now before that happens." "I don't even know how to begin reporting this," Maddox muttered. "Cheer up. Our Cáel is still currently in charge. Did you appreciate how he lured in that young Mongolian girl? That's classic Cáel," Pamela comforted the crowd. I was saved from a straightjacket because I was a 'Playa'. (Meadowlands Medical Center in far off New Jersey) I'm not political. For me, that means I am completely and utterly dedicated to whatever doctrine that the cutest political campaigner in front of me endorses. Fifteen minutes on the internet and you can fake it like a pro. Be careful to be with the winning team when the results come in. Nothing makes a political chick go wild like sneaking into the candidate's office and screwing her on the newly elected/re-elected figure's desk. Let her scream out her idol's name. Odds are neither of you will be welcomed back afterwards anyway. Why politics now? Javiera called some people. I had a sneaking suspicion that someone I knew and trusted got in touch with my 'Aunts' as well. All I knew for sure was the Hospital's Administrator's phone began ringing off the hook and I'd become the hospital's number one priority. The hospital staff was visibly irritated with the clout raining down on their heads for about an hour. Once they digested my Havenstone records, all of that changed. Holy 'Published in The New England Journal of Medicine', someone had drilled a micro-surgical hole in my skull in the middle of a wrestling match with no resulting cerebral scarring. THEN this unknown device shot into my skull with pinpoint accuracy and pumped a ghastly amount of energy into my cerebrum. They were fascinated. They were so fascinated I heard two medical technicians mutter about where the Zombie Survival Guide could be found. They triple checked my vital signs, again. I was still as much alive as when I checked myself in. There was a rumor that a fire ax disappeared from a stairwell close by, but not one confessed to the deed. I was speaking in languages I had no reason to know? They were surprised I could contain my mouth drool. It was somewhat disheartening to hear three seasoned physicians discuss what probable scenarios could explain me still being in a non-vegetative state,  or alive for that matter. Some poor nurse had to ask. "Do you feel an unnatural, interest in human brains?" she whispered when she though no one was close by. "I'm not sure what you mean," I whispered back. "I always respect a woman's intelligence. Sex is a cerebral passion. What's the point if you can't communicate with your partner?" Pamela slapped me upside my head. That disturbed just about everybody else in the vicinity and my mentor was promptly exiled from the room. I was curious about what havoc she was perpetrating on this establishment. My condition had gotten her past all the heavy security and I knew without seeing that someone high ranking had misplaced their ID badge. Maybe Pamela was the love-child of Batman and Cat woman. Before you think that's comic fanboy talk, recall what my life was like at that moment. Tests ensued. The staff decided that Havenstone employed a bunch of quacks and snake charmers. Two hours later, they found out they were wrong. Larger battery of tests, same results. I was the second coming of Christ, back from the dead, or a zombie living in a convincing state of denial. Some folks wouldn't let that go. Pamela had proved to be prophetic. Her pet gizmo finally provided a new picture of what my neural pathways were up to. If there is any doubt, 'I've never seen that before' is not what you want to hear one of North America's experts in the field of neuroscience say. The first educated opinion was that I suffered from chronic traumatic encephalopathy, that meant I was hit in the head a lot. Normally that diagnosis comes in the midst of an autopsy. I was having paralytic seizures. They had me juggle a squeeze-ball, then two and finally three. My perfect performance frustrated them. Women find relatively simple carnival tricks to be seductive. Pluck a card from a girl's bra gets you both to some dark corner, hungrily looking for the rest of the deck, I speak from experience. Next up at bat: 'I was possessed', I shit you not. Holistic medicine was right on board with the team. Was I influenced by a supernatural power? Yes I was. So claimed the majority of people on Earth. Did I receive specific instructions? Yes, and so did practitioners of Voodoo/Vodun on three continents. I added that I attempted to evade said instructions when I could. Did I have 'evil' impulses to hurt myself, or others? Huh? For starters, my matron goddess was more of a 'fucker' than a 'fighter' and her instructions were always suitably vague, the same way a Philosophy professor would give you a ten word pointless sentence on Friday and expect you to have a 250 page doctrine on Monday morning. That hit home. Too many normally smart people take a philosophy class in college hoping for an easy-A. Some teachers love dissolving those delusion, sitting back and watching your hopes and dreams of task-free weekends go down the drain. The more obscure the discipline, the more perverse the desire. That is why you always pick a teacher of the opposite gender (if in doubt, use a gay/lesbian test) and keep 'sex for grades' on the menu. Was I suffering from optical illusions, or phantom noises? Straight to the point, yes, I saw and talked with ghosts. So did the Long Island Medium, the casts of Ghost Hunters, Paranormal Witness plus George Anderson and Chip Coffey. To my credit, I didn't do it for profit, or in order to influence people. Was I seeing ghosts now? I was in hospital, so odds weren't bad. I had every non-ghost raise their left hand. No ghosts. Was my paranormal dementia pre- or post-brain trauma? Did seeing a college student being called before his class and successfully accused of plagiarism on his senior thesis, turning him into one of the Restless Dead count? No? My 'disputed' abilities were all post-college employment, thank you very much. Did the ghosts possess me/tell me to do things? I was not possessed and, discounting sexual bondage and my current work venue, had never been possessed. From my limited exposure, ghosts wanted to not be alone in the afterlife, to be guided to a final resting place with others of their kind/family/friends. None had taught me languages, asked me to steal something, or kill anyone. Had any done so, I would have denied them. Such actions were immoral and I could still freely differentiate between right and wrong. I preferred to commit wrong on my own initiative and making me do good was a chore most sane people abandoned after a few days. I took a Rorschach test. The results were predictable because I had taken old 'R' several times before. Just like every other time, I'd mixed up sexual innuendo with a psychological test to seduce the test-giver,  everything reminded me of intercourse. I changed it up with this girl. I gave her numbers. Sometime after I was long gone, they were going to figure out the ink blots were numbered after whichever erotic positions from the Kama Sutra I was reminded of at the time. I knew that wasn't being helpful and I was certain I wasn't a brain specialist. I also knew Rorschach wasn't the key to solving my woes. Final remaining hypothesis, I was utilizing 30 % of my brain capacity with three independent patterns emerging, not the usual 5 %. For that to work, my brain had to be oozing out my ears because brains generate a terrific amount of heat. My temperature was a steady 37.3 C (99 F) and my ear channels were free of obstruction. Hey man, cleaning your ears is quick and easy. Don't risk turning off a date with misfortunately located ear-hair and wax. How was my brain shedding the heat? Their solution, let's do a Spinal Tap. No way. I'd seen that band and they were all extremely fucked up, even for old guys. I wasn't going down that road. They insisted. I suggested that I consent to the procedure with the condition that I received no pain killers/sedatives of any kind and I got to grab and hold onto the testicles of my two, current, least favorite doctors. When they realized I was deadly serious and immovable on the issue, they came up with a new plan, no Spinal Tap. Gutless sissies. Into this vacuum of information, a brainstorm emerged (besides my inexplicable one). They would talk to me, no more interrogations, an actual verbal exchange. They couldn't come over and start flapping their gums like some punk rock band with no talent. They were suddenly worried about 'concerning' me and 'agitating my unstable state'. I pray to Goddess Ishara that one day soon they play back the tapes of their early hours working on me and pay close attention to my facial expressions of shock, horror, fear and depression as they clearly and openly talked about me as if I was the Fiji Mermaid. But hey, a few of them were kinda cute, so in the final analysis all that emotional trauma worked its way out. Hospital highlights: (Understand, I was lying on a table while various specialists prodded and talked about me as if I wasn't there. To strike back at reality, I throbbed my penis every time this cute Parasitologist looked at it. Finally ) Female Chief of Neurosurgery: "Did anyone think to study changes in is body's nervous system?" (Guilty looks all around) Neuro Surgeon: "What are all these needle marks?" Havenstone Medico, "Those are muscle stimuli insertion sites. They kept his musculature from atrophying while he was in a coma." Neuro Surgeon: "Let me get this straight. This man had a lightning bolt go off in his head and part of your healthcare regimen was to run a constant current of electricity throughout the rest of his body." (Scathing looks at the Medico from everyone else, jackals) HM: "He has retained excellent muscle tone." Neuro Surgeon: "Have you even taken the Hippocratic Oath?" HM: (offended) "Of course not, he's Greek." Neuro Surgeon: "What does my patient being Greek have to do with anything?" HM: "Not him (pointing at me). Hippocrates, he was a Greek. Cáel is Magyar/Irish Gaelic." Neuro Surgeon: "Helpful, that's not. He seems to have a great deal of bruises and scarring, some of it certainly received over an extensive period of time. Is this your work?" HM: (in a positive note) "No. It has not been my pleasure to spar with Cáel yet." Neuro Surgeon: "Isn't he a bit, big for you?" &

On Thursday's Morning Focus, Alan Morrissey was joined by Canadian chef and owner of Randaddy's in Lahinch, Randy Lewis. This week, Randy shared a delicious recipe for his Canadian Butter Tartlets. This is real comfort food at it's best. At this time of the year, in fact starting from Canada Day in mid-October, Canadians start to enjoy this delightful and traditional Canadian sweet treat. With a medley of eggs, butter, brown sugar, maple syrup, and a touch of vanilla, these delectable custardy treats are crowned with the rich goodness of pecans. And if you really want to make things easy for yourself, you can buy ready-made pastry from the supermarket. So, let the weather be as it may, for these Canadian Butter Tarts are here to warm our hearts and satisfy our sweet treat cravings. Ingredients: 2 eggs, 225 grams unsalted butter, 1 teaspoons vanilla extract, 3 tablespoons of good quality maple syrup, 250 grams brown sugar, 50 grams crushed pecans and 1 roll puff pastry. Method: 1. Preheat oven to 180°. On a low heat over saucepan melt butter. 2. Add brown sugar once the butter is melted and stir in. 3. Add pecans (leaving back a few to sprinkle on top when serving), vanilla and maple syrup and stir in and heat until smooth consistency. 3. Remove from heat and let cool slightly. 4. Add to beaten eggs to the mixture stirring until smooth consistency. 5. Line your muffin tin with puff pastry and scoop in your custard mix until level. 6. Place in preheated oven and bake for approximately 25 to 35 minutes or until puffy and cooked through. (May be less depending on size of tartlets so keep an eye after 20 minutes if making mini tartlets). 7. Remove from the oven, take out of the casing and let cool on a wire rack. Sprinkle with end of crushed pecans for decoration. Photo (c): Clare FM

Cáel's tombstone: For the love of women, women put him here.In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

Until the very last day, pollsters predicted the 2024 U.S. presidential election would be too close to call, with just a fraction of a percentage point separating Donald Trump from his Democratic rival, Kamala Harris. Many observers predicted a repeat of 2020, when Trump refused to concede, resulting in riots on Capitol Hill. But as the votes rolled in on Nov. 5, 2024, it became clear Trump was on pace to win a resounding victory for the Republicans and a surprise second term in the White House. As of Wednesday night, Trump has been elected with 295 electoral collage votes, compared to Harris's 226, complemented by a victory in the popular vote. Trump's party also took control of the Senate and will likely control the House of Representatives, although those ballots are still being counted. Political science professor Donald Abelson of McMaster University in Hamilton had an eye-witness perspective of the final hours of the election from his perch in Washington, D.C. Meanwhile, David Weinfeld, a Canadian-born professor of American Jewish history, was monitoring the election results from his home in the swing state of Pennsylvania, where he had previously been a volunteer canvassing for the Democrats. Abelson and Weinfeld joined The CJN Daily‘s Ellin Bessner shortly after Kamala Harris called Trump to concede defeat Wednesday. Together, they unpack what Trump's victory means for Jews, Israel, Canada and the world. Their take? While some pro-Israel advocates may be excited, Trump will almost certainly not be a reliable ally for Jews. What we talked about Read more about professor Donald E. Abelson in The CJN, and learn about his new books on U.S. politics, here and here. David Weinfeld has been a columnist for The CJN, and most recently was a guest panelist on The CJN Daily's Canada Day episode on why Canadian Jews feel vulnerable in a post-Oct. 7 world. Why the "Tree of Life" synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh in 2018 was a turning point for Jews in America and not in a good way, by David Weinfeld in The CJN archives. Credits Host and writer: Ellin Bessner (@ebessner) Production team: Zachary Kauffman (producer), Michael Fraiman (executive producer) Music: Dov Beck-Levine Support our show Subscribe to The CJN newsletter Donate to The CJN (+ get a charitable tax receipt) Subscribe to The CJN Daily (Not sure how? Click here)

In late June, Naomi and her co-host pal James P. White had a trip planned to teach kids light saber combat and see Paula Abdul & New Kids On The Block in California. WestJet abruptly canceled our flight due to the mechanics strike, so we got in the car and DROVE there. We tell all about our adventure, joined by guest Rebecca, our host in her lovely home! Casinos, bedbugs, Chick Fil-A, Cracker Barrel, Jimmy's Joe Mac encounter, bickering, meeting Paula Abdul, LucasFilm, The Golden Gate Bridge, role playing meet and greets, 4th of July, and Canada Day on the road. Fuck You, WestJet.

People Pleasers or Slaves of the Messiah? Galatians 1:1-10 by William Klock The other day the phone rang.  I answered it and a stranger on the other end asked for Veronica.  I passed the phone to her.  I wondered who it was, but I didn't get much help from Veronica's end of the conversation.  It was all “Mmhmm” and “Yes” and “Okay”.  I had no idea who it was or what it was about.  In contrast, while walking to the church I ended up following a woman who was having a very loud conversation with someone on her cell phone.  I couldn't hear the other person, but I had a pretty good idea what he or she was saying based on the responses this woman was angrily yelling into her phone.  Things like, “Oh!  So I'm being dramatic?” and other things I probably shouldn't repeat in polite company.  We do this reading between the lines when we read St. Paul's epistles.  In them we have one side of a conversation and, thankfully, it's a lot more than “Mmhmm” and “Yes” and “Okay”.  In fact, it's a lot more like “Oh!  So I'm being dramatic?”  And it's not too hard, if we go slowly and think about the context, to piece most of the conversation together.  And so Paul begins his letter to the churches in Galatia writing, “Paul, an apostle…”  And then before he's even begun, he breaks off right there, because he has to defend himself against their attacks on his apostleship.  “My apostleship,” he writes, “doesn't derive from human sources, nor did it come through a human being.  It came through Jesus the Messiah, and God the Father who raised him from the dead.”  We know at the get-go that someone in Galatia is challenging Paul's credentials.  I think we get an even better sense of what's going on if we jump ahead to verse 10 of Galatians 1.  What Paul writes there doesn't get enough attention.  We'll come back and fill things in, but in verse 10 Paul writes to them: Well now…does that sound as though I'm trying to make up to people—or to God?  Or that I'm trying to curry favour with people?  If I were still pleasing people, I wouldn't be a slave of the Messiah.   Three times he says the same thing: Am I trying to make up to people.  Am I trying to curry favour with people?  Am I trying to please people?  So we know someone in Galatian is accusing Paul of abandoning the divine message of the gospel and, instead, preaching a merely human message that will tickle people's ears and win him friends.  Anyone who knew Paul should have known better, of course, but this is how it is.  Now there's actually a text—one that would have been well-known in the Jewish word of the First Century—there's a text that really sharpens the focus of this whole “people pleasing” accusation and that gives us some context for this whole dispute.  It stands out, because this Greek phrase Paul uses for “people pleasing” is essentially the same as another word that pops up in the Greek version of Psalm 52:6 and in the fourth of the Psalms of Solomon.  Psalms of Solomon is a little collection of eighteen psalms from the First Century B.C. and the First Century A.D., probably written by Pharisees or by people very much like the Pharisees.  And there's this Greek word that isn't actually Greek—anthropareskos—that was made up by Greek-speaking Jews and outside of Paul's writings, shows up only in those two other texts.  That fourth “Psalm of Solomon” is titled “A Psalm about the People Pleasers” and it's about people who compromised God's law, cutting corners here and there, in order to suck up to their pagan neighbours.  It speaks of men who would even enter the homes of pagans and fraternise with them.  That might not seem like a problem to us, but it was something faithful Jews did not do.  But once you got out into the real world, out of Judaea, a lot of Jews found it hard to get by in life while completely avoiding contact and fraternisation with gentiles.  In the Psalms of Solomon, the finger seems to be pointed at the corrupt Jewish rulers—people like the Sadducees, the Hasmoneans, and the Herodians.  To the faithful in Israel, these people were selling out the covenant by compromising God's law in order to ingratiate themselves with the pagans. And, we need to be clear, people like the Pharisees weren't angry about the compromise of the people pleasers because they were legalists who were trying to earn their way into heaven through good works.  There's been long tendency to read Galatians in that kind of light ever since Martin Luther.  Luther read the works-righteousness of the medieval church into Paul's adversaries.  And Luther was doing much what St. Augustine had done, when he read his own disputes with the heretic Pelagius into Galatians.  Pelagius, too, taught a sort of works righteousness.  As much as Pelagius and the medieval church did pose real problems, that sort of works righteousness wasn't at issue in these First Century disputes. The reason faithful Jews were obsessed with keeping the law was because they knew that God had chosen them, delivered them from Egypt, put them in the promised land, and called them to be holy—and that this was all for a greater purpose that would somehow involve God, one day, setting this fallen world to rights.  They were trying to be, in Jesus' way of putting it, the “on earth as in heaven” people.  There was a later rabbi who said that if all Israel would keep the torah for a single day, the Messiah would come.  The Pharisees had very similar ideas.  They also believed very firmly—because they knew the story of the Lord and Israel—that if Israel failed to keep the torah, if Israel flirted with pagans and their idolatry the way Deuteronomy warned them not to, the Messiah would not come and God would not establish his kingdom.  Not only that, but the very pagans with whom Israel compromised would destroy Israel and carry the people off into exile, just as the Babylonians had done six hundred years before.  I hope that helps us to understand what's behind this accusation made against Paul that he's a “people pleaser”.  It's not just that he's risking the salvation of some gentile believers in Galatia, but that he's putting in jeopardy the whole destiny of Israel—and probably even the world. In the First Century, Jews were faced with a crisis, and it was important to know who was “in” and who was “out”.  Who were your allies and who were the wicked risking another disaster.  The “people pleasers” were most definitely on the side of the wicked.  They pretended to be on God's side, but their compromises proved otherwise.  It's important for us to remember, too, that this was the mindset in which Paul had been steeped as a Pharisee.  This is the mindset that drove him to persecute the first Christians.  And now Paul is being accused of being one of those very people pleasers. So why would anyone accuse Paul of being a people pleaser?  Well, wherever Paul went, he was preaching that anyone who believed in this Jesus, who was crucified, died, and rose again…that anyone who believed that he is Israel's Messiah and, therefore God's King, this faith is the sign that that person is part of the people of God.  It didn't matter what their ethnic background was.  That was it.  Faith in Jesus the Messiah.  Period.  This is what Paul's epistle to the Galatians is all about.  Faith in Jesus the Messiah.  If a gentile believed, he was as much a member of the family as a Jew who believed.  He didn't need to be circumcised or to have any of the other signs that marked out Jews—not diet or Sabbath, not rules about who you could or couldn't eat with.  But to a lot of people this marked Paul out as a people pleaser.  He was compromising the law and the covenant.  That made him a traitor. I've begun with this, because I think it helps us understand where the focus of Galatians lies.  Ever since Luther, our tendency, at least in our Protestant circles, has been to read Galatians as a letter about how we are saved and as a warning about the dangers of legalism or of mixing works with faith.  The theology in that is right, but the perspective isn't where it should be and I think when we put Galatians back in the proper context and get a look at it from the proper angle, what we discover it's really about is community—about who the people of God are and what marks us out.  And in that light, the problem isn't just “legalism”.  Paul reminds us that what marks out the people of God is faith in Jesus the Messiah and that trying to define the community by any other means is to make it about something other than Jesus—to set up a false gospel. So the accusation against Paul, in a nutshell, is that he's got a gospel of human origin—that he got from someone else or that he made up himself—but a gospel that they think has been watered down to make it more palatable to the gentiles, that makes it too easy for the pagans to call themselves people of God.  If we understand that, then we'll understand these first verses.  This is why Paul breaks off after writing, “Paul, an apostle…”  Remember how be breaks off suddenly and adds: (My apostleship doesn't derive from human sources, nor did it come through a human being; it came through Jesus the Messiah, and God the Father who raised him from the dead.)   Some teachers had arrived in Galatia from Jerusalem and they've told the people there not to listen to Paul.  He's not a real apostle.  He wasn't there in the beginning with Jesus.  He never knew Jesus.  Instead, they should listen to them, because they got their gospel—at least so they claim—from the men who walked with Jesus for three years, real apostles like James and Peter.  And so Paul reminds them that he, too, had an encounter with the risen Messiah.  Paul would still be a Pharisee if it hadn't been for that miraculous encounter with Jesus on the road to Damascus.  And it was in that encounter that Jesus himself commissioned Paul to take this good news to the gentiles.  In fact, it was seeing Jesus risen from the dead that convinced Paul of the truth of the gospel.  So he goes on: Paul, an apostle…[verse 2]and the family who are with me; to the churches in Galatia.  Grace to you and peace from God our Father and Jesus the Messiah, our Lord, who gave himself for our sins, to rescue us from the present evil age, according to the will of God our Father, to whom be glory to the ages of ages.  Amen.   Paul…and the family who are with me.  That's the church in Antioch.  First Paul stresses that his apostleship is as from Jesus as that of any other apostle and now he stresses the relationship that he and the church in Antioch have with these churches in Galatia.  They were accusing him of being a people pleaser, of being a traitor, of being a false brother and here he reaches out with verbal arms and embraces them and reminds them that in Jesus they're all family, all brothers and sisters. “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and Jesus the Messiah our Lord.”  Paul has this amazing way of making everything about Jesus and the gospel.  In the Greek world they greeted each other with the word chairein, which meant “to rejoice”, but in a letter basically just means “greetings” or “salutations”.  This is, for example, how James opens his epistle.  But Paul exchanges chairein for charis, the word for “grace”—from God the Father and from Jesus the Messiah—grace to you.  He adds the Jewish greeting of shalom as well: that means “peace”.  But even his word order here in his greeting sets the tone for the whole letter.  It's not grace and peace to you; it's grace to you and then peace.  Because the sum total of God's position towards humanity is grace and this is manifest uniquely and finally in Jesus the Messiah.  Everything begins with God's grace poured out in and through Jesus.  Even the peace we know and the peace we look forward to in the age to come, even that comes as a result first of God's grace. Paul then follows this up with a four-faceted summary of the good news.  First, Jesus gave himself for our sins, (second) to rescue us from the present evil age, (third) according to the will of God our Father, (four) to whom be glory to the ages of ages.  Amen. Jesus has rescued us from the present evil age.  What does that mean?  Well, when the Jews looked at history, they divided it into two ages.  There was the present evil age dominated by sin and death and full of pain and tears and then there was the age to come when God would fulfil his promises to set the world to rights and where his people would live in his presence forever.  The present evil age is dominated by dark powers that enslave humanity through idolatry and sin.  We worship idols, giving to them the glory we were created to give to God, and we rebel against him—that's sin—and our sin tightens the chains those idols have on us and on creation.  While we were bound up in the present evil age, Jesus came to our rescue, writes Paul.  He seems to have Isaiah's song of the suffering servant in mind as he writes this, because it's this suffering servant who represents Israel and who gives his life to break the chains the idols have cast around God's people.  He dies for their sins and breaks sin's power and he leads the people in a new exodus—into the age to come.  I like the way Tom Wright often reminds us that Jesus' resurrection isn't an odd or one-off event within the old world, but rather it's a launching and defining event of God's new world.  Paul's gospel, his good news, is that Jesus has dealt with the sins that chained us as slaves in the dark and bloody temples of the idols, and he now leads us out into the sunlight, into the beginnings of God's new world. Now, here's why this is so important in Paul's letter to the Galatians.  Remember that for Jews, the problem with gentiles was that they were idolaters.  There was one true God, the God of Israel, but the gentiles instead worshipped idols and they lived and behaved sinfully, as idolaters do.  This is what made them unclean and so offensive to the Jews.  This why good Jews wouldn't go into their homes or eat with them.  There were some gentiles who saw the Jews and were attracted to their purity of life and joined up.  But to do that, they had to be circumcised.  It was a dramatic (and painful) sign that they were leaving behind the idolatrous pagan world and becoming part of Abraham's family.  But—and this is vital to understanding Galatians—Paul's point is that the gospel tells us that on the cross Jesus defeated those evil powers when he dealt with the sin that put us in their chains.  This is how there can now be one family.  This is how the gentiles can be welcomed into this new Israel.  Again, If God has defeated the idols, the dark powers of the evil age, then the gentiles, the pagans can trust in the God of Israel and become part of Jesus the Messiah's family.  And, second, because Jesus's death has dealt with sin, then those who believe in him and who become part of his family, they are no longer “sinners” or idolaters.  The thing that separated Jews and gentiles has been dealt with by Jesus at the cross, and so membership in his family is by faith in him alone and nothing else.  To add anything else to that—like circumcision or any of those other things that marked out the Jews—to add anything else is to detract from Jesus and to lose the gospel itself. And then points three and four of Paul's gospel summary: The cross wasn't some accident of history.  This was God's plan all along.  What Jesus has done reveals the faithfulness of God and that, in turn, brings the gospel back to the glorification of God.  We often make the gospel about us, but for Paul the gospel is always and only about God.  God has redeemed us and in that he shows his glory and this is why we give him glory and praise.  The gospel begins and ends in with God. So that's the gospel in all its magnificent glory.  We can hear the shock and the disappointment as Paul goes on in verse 6 and following, rebuking the Galatians.  He writes: I'm astonished that you are turning away so quickly from the one who called you by the grace of the Messiah, and going after another gospel—not that it is another gospel, it's just that there are some people stirring up trouble for you and wanting to pervert the gospel of the Messiah.  But even if we—or an angel from heaven!—should announce a gospel other than the one we announced to you, let such a person be accursed.  I said it before and I now say it again, if anyone offers you a gospel other than the one you received, let that person be accursed.   It's not just that these churches have gone astray.  That would be bad enough, but it's how quickly after he left them that they've turned away.  The language suggests that Paul might be comparing his own astonishment to the astonishment of Moses at how quickly the Israelites went from praising the Lord for his miraculous deliverance at the Red Sea to creating and worshipping a golden calf.  As dumbfounding as it was to Moses to find his people dancing around an idol, Paul is dumbfounded at how quickly and how easily the Galatians have been led astray to another gospel.  And Paul quickly amends that, because, really, there is no other gospel.  There's the gospel.  Everything else is just is a lie. Also, the language Paul uses to write of them “turning”, that has its own shameful undertones.  The word he uses is one used in the Greek Old Testament to describe desertion.  In 2 Maccabees there's the poignant story of seven brothers whom Antiochus tried to force to eat pork, killing them one after the other when they refused.  When it's down to the youngest of them, the text says that Antiochus tried to entice the boy to “turn form his ancestral ways”.  (Or course, the boy refused and became a martyr.)  This is the same language Paul uses here and I think just to stress his point.  This probably corresponds to what we read in Acts about “certain persons from James” who arrived in Galatia not long after Paul and Barnabas had returned from their mission there.  Paul had seen these people devoted to Jesus and to the gospel, he'd seen them transformed by it, and now he's shocked that they've turned from the gospel—and so quickly and easily.  If they're going to accuse him of being disloyal to Israel's traditions, he turns that accusation right back around on them.  They've been disloyal to, they've deserted Jesus. He's not into the details of their corrupted gospel yet, but he says here that they've turned from the one who called them by grace.  They've turned from God himself.  Paul puts the emphasis on grace as manifest in Jesus the Messiah.  God's call is an act of pure grace.  His sending of Jesus is a pure act of grace.  The God of Israel has finally sent his Messiah as a gift of pure grace—and Paul now points his finger at these people and says—And you've turned away from him! So what was their “other gospel”?  We have to do more reading between the lines and it won't be fully fleshed out until we get through the rest of the letter, but the best way to look at it may be to see these new teachers not so much preaching a different Jesus, but preaching Jesus as the culmination of a different story.  Paul was preaching Jesus as the fulfilment a story in which the God of Israel defeats the powers of sin and death to rescue his people from the present evil age, but these folks seemed to be preaching Jesus as an add-on to Jewish life as it already was—maybe Jesus as the fulfilment of some Jewish nationalist hope or agenda: maybe a message that fired up zeal against the gentiles, for example, instead of announcing to them the grace made available in Jesus. And I think it's likely that Paul had in mind what “gospel” meant in the Roman world.  To the Greeks and Romans, “gospel” was the good news announced about the accession or the birthday of Caesar.  Caesar's new cult was spreading like wildfire through Asia and that included Galatia.  It's not that the Christian there were in danger of worshiping Caesar.  The danger was that they would embrace torah to save themselves from persecution for not worshiping Caesar.  To refuse to worship Caesar—not to mention all the other gods—would be a bit like marching the wrong way, carrying the flag upside-down, and saying unpatriotic things in the middle of a Canada Day parade.  But in that culture, not only was it disloyal, if and when calamity struck the city or the country, you'd be the one to get the blame for it, because you'd angered the gods.  But the Jews, they were uniquely exempt.  The Jews would rather die than worship an idol, so after all the trouble they'd caused him, Caesar had granted them an exemption.  And those first Christians started claiming that exemption for themselves.  They were, after all, Jews.  Even the gentile converts claimed it.  But then to claim to be Jews, well there was pressure to start acting like Jews, too—and that became a problem. And so Paul announces: Anathema!  A curse.  The real gospel, the true gospel is about how, in Jesus and his death and resurrection, God has dealt with sin and inaugurated a new age.  That's why it's good news.  But these new teachers, they're not just veering off course a little.  They're completely wrong.  They're telling a different story.  They're not announcing the good news that God's new creation has started.  No, they're just giving advice about how to live and get along in the present evil age.  There's no good news there.  As my New Testament prof, Gordon Fee, used to put it, they'd gone backwards from AD to BC—going from the bright sunlight of God's new day, back into the darkness of the old.  No, Paul says, if any—even if an angel from heaven—proclaims anything other than the good news that I've proclaimed, let that person be accursed. Brothers and Sisters, it's really very simple.  It's about Jesus and Jesus alone and it's faith in him that defines the people of God.  There is an organic relationship between faith and works such that real faith will always show itself in our lives.  We know good trees because they bear good fruit.  But as much as good works borne of faith mark us out, the thing that makes, the thing that defines us as the people of God is faith in Jesus.  That's it.  Nothing else.  Whenever we add something else—whether it's circumcision as in Galatia or some other thing or set of rules, when we establish some ethnic or cultural criteria, when we set up some kind of personal or ecstatic or emotional experience that stands alongside Jesus—we diminish Jesus and we rob God of his glory and we lose the gospel.  The solution, I think, if we listen to Paul, is to keep our eyes focused on Jesus and the cross.  Over and over Paul comes back to Jesus, declaring things like “who loved me and gave himself for me”.  We need to do the same.  Every week the Lord offers us a reset when he invites us to his Table.  Here we recall and participate anew in those events by which Jesus the Messiah gave himself for our sins, to rescue us from the present evil age, according to the will of God our Father.  Here we're reminded of grace, to go into another week with our eyes focused on Jesus that we might live to the glory of our gracious God and for the sake of his kingdom.  Here we're reminded again that it's all about God's grace poured out in Jesus.  It's not about us, it's not about who we are, it's not about what we've done or will do, it's all about and only about Jesus. Let's pray: Heavenly Father, you have poured out your amazing grace on us, giving your Son as a sacrifice for our sin and rescuing us from the bondage of the present evil age.  We should be overwhelmed by your grace and by your Son, but we confess that we too often lose our focus on him.  By your grace, set our eyes again and always on Jesus, that we might perpetually be amazed by your grace, so that we are never tempted to diminish your glory by adding anything else to the gospel.  In his name we pray.  Amen.

In this episode of “The Journey of My Mother's Son” podcast, Sandy and I talk more about our amazing summer long northern adventure through Canada and Alaska. We spent a little over a month traveling throughout Canada.  We made it north of the 60th Parallel and all the way up to Yellowknife, the capital of the Northwest Territories. We traveled over 300 miles of dirt and gravel roads and saw some of the most amazing waterfalls you could ever imagine. We celebrated Canada Day in the little village of Haines Junction in the Yukon.  We crossed back into the United States at the Alaskan boarder on July 2.  We celebrated July 4th in Tok, Alaska. The scenery and wildlife that we have seen throughout the trip, so far, has been absolutely stunning.