Blog Year in Review

Yes, it's that waning moment of the year again. Time to reflect back on what we have and have not accomplished. Also time for my first annual look back at my best posts of the year on this here blog. I haven't done this before because in previous years I had managed only a measly forty or fifty posts. But this will be the one hundred and sixtieth post in 2009, so I am mentally masturbating today looking a representative selection of my blogging over the last twelve months. I would point out to my poker readers that even with the twenty Matusow-Hellmuth-Negreanu articles at the World Series this summer, only 45 of the 160 total posts for the year were poker related and only one made it into this top ten list.

Let's start with that single pokerish post. My Exit Interview from the World of Poker (9/17). It took about a month to detach myself, leave my favorite poker forums and cancel all the Yahoo and Google alerts, but I am no longer powerless over pocket jacks. Despite working on the screenplay from the book, I am on to things with more than 52 objects of attention.

That being said, I do have to highlight at least one post about Check Raising the Devil. If you missed it, here is the original first chapter (5/3) that Amy and I wrote but which never made it past the editor. All of that work seems so long ago, but I have a royalty check in my wallet, so . . .

In the wider world beyond poker there was some noize about health care this year. I took a few passing swipes, as would any cynical, errr critical commentator but I also did one math based piece on the whole health care issue (8/2). In rereading, it would seem, as usual, that the majority of my rational points have no place in the political debate.

I wrote a lot more this year about music, particularly about lyrics and their origins. If you scroll down to the bottom of this post, you can click on the link for a musical, lyrical interlude (9/23).

Livelihood, careers, income and jobs were on and off my mind all year apparently for most of the twelve months. This post Work, Labor, Job, Calling comes from early in my fiscal pondering (2/4).

Old Friends were also on my mind often this year. The trip I am still on created the opportunity for me to visit with many of them. This post related one story (3/24) of a couple of old friends and although they are not cast in the best of light here, life is life. I realized when I was rereading this post that I missed a song appropriate to my many visits this year. If you care to listen in, here is Old Friends.

Along with health care, collective environmental angst kept up the greening of amerika. I wrote a post on the comparative cost of energy and the manipulation of public opinion. Sometimes quantitative numbers make the point when followed up with some well chosen prose. I titled this one: Fuzzy, Oily, Windy Math (9/6).

Books are always a source for blog inspiration, so are other bloggers. One such post came about from reading another of my favorite bloggers and wondering about books that were significant at the moment in my life when they came into my hands and into my head. Momentarily Memorable Books (8/6).

I like to grace my blog with pictures. One of my favorite pencil-sharpening tasks it to search the web for potential images for future blogs. Once in awhile the images themselves are so overwhelming that they take over the post. Here is my best visual interlude from 2009. You gotta click thru to see the best Pictures of Earth (10/1).

Finally, my recent visit to Washington DC left me with the resolve that we all need to stand up, once again, and let our elected representatives know that we do not approve of the conduct of war. What a phrase: "Conduct of War". Pause along with me at the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial (12/15). Then write, call or email your feelings to someone in DC. Begin with Barack.

Conundrums

co-nun-drum [kuh-nuhn-druh m]

-noun

1. a riddle, the answer to which involves a pun or play on words.

2. anything that puzzles.

I prefer the second definition myself and offer a few recent examples.

Caymus Vineyards in the Napa Valley produces a blended white vintage each year call Conundrum. Back in '96 or '97 it was a brilliant wine. But it changes year to year. I have tried it several times since and never found the sterling richness of that first taste. Much like love and artichokes; nothing ever lives up to your first unblemished memory.

Next, a dilemma in the conundrum sense. You are visiting a friend, who has a new girlfriend, but it is a long-distance relationship. They speak by phone every night by appointment. Now on one particular night, after a long day of household chores, my friend falls asleep around ten. He is curled up on his bed with two cats and a sci-fi book and as peaceful as a well nursed tiger cub.

Question: Do you wake him to make his nightly call to the new woman?

My answer is no. Sleep is nature's way of telling you that you need to, well, sleep. On the other hand, that would be his hand, there is the new babe who might misinterpret his lack of phoneage to be.. what? cheating? change of heart? coronary? This is actually only a conundrum if my friend is a whack job or OCD.

p.s. the girlfriend agreed with my decision, she is my new best friend, he remains an love-sick idiot.

Part Three: My favorite niece. OK, not really my favorite. My niece, OK actually my cousin's sister's kid, but it plays better if I actually know the her; so... My favorite niece, is back with her boyfriend. He got another girl prego, she had the kid, he is not supporting in any way (Yep, she kept it) but he has promised not to do that again.

Now is the correct way to introduce some gentle advice:

A. Jasmine, your mom asked me to speak with you about your present situation...

or

B. What?! Are you f***ing nuts!!!

Questions and comments can be mailed to:

Dr. Laura

c/o Talk Out of The Righteous Side of Your Mouth Radio

A Caffeinated Thought for the Day

Observation: Machinery to be operated first thing in the morning, by people of foul temper, jonesing for their first fix; these appariti need to be less complex and have no sharp edges.

"Cheerfulness removes the rust from the mind, lubricates our inward machinery, and enables us to do our work with fewer creaks and groans. If people were universally cheerful, there wouldn't be half the quarreling or a tenth of the wickedness." -- said by a non-coffee drinker right before being ground into the floor by those in the early morning queue at Starbucks.

"A person with so-called character is often a simple piece of mechanism with a single point of view for the extremely complicated relationships of life." -- August Strindberg

"Enough with the philosophical talk, can I get a friggin' cup of coffee!" -- inspiration for today's post from an old friend, early in the morning

74° on the Dec. 24th

Perfect winter weather is a great caffeine, while perfect summer weather is the best sedative. ~Amethyst Snow-Rivers

All the quotes, writing, singing and complaining about winter means next to nothing when you live somewhere warm. I have frozen in about as many Michigan and Massachusetts winters as I have malingered in California and Nevada temperate climes. This is my first "cold season" in Florida. Today, Christmas Eve, I went to the beach and walked along the shore as four foot swells broke on the sand. I assume all the other strollers were there for the same reason, so they could write or call home and mention the sun and the temperature to those shivering somewhere up north.

It's in the mid-70s today, there were squadrons of pelicans whirling about the beach and sandpipers chasing the waves back into the shoals. The ocean is just five minutes from where I am staying in Satellite Beach (that's right about where the Swordfish is hooked on the postcard map above).

I thought I might check on the temperatures in the other stops I have made along the way on my recent travels:

Las Vegas 48°

San Francisco 50°

Sebastopol 45°

Windsor 46°

Mt. Shasta 38°

West Wendover 19°

Fort Wayne 29°

Kalamazoo 32°

Ann Arbor 30°

Hinckley 34°

Atlantic City 38°

McLean 37°

Savannah 62°

Satellite Beach 74°

Chilly holidays to all and to all a good, warm comforter.

Long Time Passings 2009

As the lists begin to roll out at the end of the year, I was struck by how differently we are all affected by the deaths of heroes, stars, celebrities, politicians and others who have gained some notoriety during our contiguous time on the planet. I looked over several of those lists and found two names that saddened me.

Mary Travers, known by most as the female member of Peter, Paul & Mary. These three came together in Greenwich Village in 1961 and included on their first album, Where Have All the Flowers Gone, 500 Miles and If I had a Hammer. Their signature song Puff the Magic Dragon came out in 1963. Together as a group for only eight years, the three often got together for social justice causes in the 70s, 80s, 90s and 00s. Mary Travers was 72.

Soupy Sales began his 'Lunch Time with Soupy' on WXYZ-TV in Detroit in 1953, which put me in the 1st grade. At lunch every day, I would walk the half block home from St. Joseph's and have a bowl of Campbell's soup and a sandwich in front of the television and Soupy. White Fang, Black Tooth, Pookie the Lion, Hippy the Hippo and Willie the Worm were household names where I grew up. Soupy also did an 11 o'clock show that featured jazz musicians who were doing shows in Detroit and later New York. I can't say I remember the late night show. Soupy was 83.

Thirdly, I want to get a bit patriotic (you may not agree with that label) but also damn angry, because thousands of U.S. military have been lost this year in the vain and futile abhorrences our government is carrying out in Iraq and Afghanistan. Most of those soldiers have died in their late teens or early 20s. If you agree, it is time to speak up to your elected officials. Stop the Wars Now!

Obama 30%-40%-30%

Extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice.

-Barry Goldwater

I would point out that the opinion expressed in this post is only one of many. Friends and enemies on both the right and the left are invited to sit on their keyboards and consider the potential kernel of truth in this offering. This post was prompted by a number of my liberal friends talking about how they wished President Obama was more like Candidate Obama. Paraphrasing Senator Goldwater:

Extremism to advance your view of 'how the world should be' can be seen as terrorism by those who hold an different view.

-me

I spent some time in Washington DC recently and came away with an interesting view from what I will call the moderate middle. Assume that there is a middle ground in American politics which we will label as 40%. There is a lot of legislation that falls into this moderate middle and it can pass with little opposition. However, there is very little legislation proposed with only elements of this 40%. A liberal will add programs and cash from a 30% left wing of the middle 40 and a conservative will do the same from the right using elements of his or her 30% conservative wing.

Here comes the tricky math part, you might think we have just covered 100% of the possibilities for any legislative proposals.

30% Liberal Ideas -- 40% Moderate Middle -- 30% Conservative Ideas

Unfortunately political math does not follow conventional rules because of the power of the American Presidential system. So today, under the Obama administration, we are in this situation:

30% Ultra-Left Manifesto -- 30% Liberal Ideas -- 40% Moderate Middle

Yes, my fellow travelers, you did indeed suffer for 8 years under the opposite configuration during the Bush years:

40% Moderate Middle -- 30% Conservative Ideas -- 30% Right Wing Jihad

A strong presidency, which nearly all of them are these days, simply blots out the 'other end' of the political spectrum and opens the door to their own extremist wing. Inside of the 70% equation, in either direction, can be found consensus in Congress and bi-partisanship. But neither party is satisfied with this, they both push for their additional perfect conservative or liberal agenda and lose not only the support of moderates in congress from the other party but also the support of the voting public.

Yes, my liberal friends that is what the Obama team is doing in DC these days. And before my conservative friends get too smug, your draft-dodging smiley-faced guy did precisely the same thing for eight years, turning his Cheney dog boys loose to ravage the constitution. Is it any wonder the middle 40 didn't listen McBush last year.

The point is that this behavior, from either party, is not governance. We elect officials, particularly the President, to govern the nation. All of them, once elected, turn to payback and vengeance at the expense of the middle 40 and even the moderate 70% of the nation. When will they ever learn? Clearly not while the two party system has a stranglehold on DC.

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photo credit: anti-christ.com (would I kid you?)

Midday in the Garden

I am told that in Savannah they simply call it "The Book". Referring, of course, to Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. I did a long pause in Savannah yesterday, not nearly long enough to enjoy the city but definitely sufficient time to soak up some local scenery for a story I am working on.

It's fascinating to me to sit in a place and try to keep up with the unfolding story as words fill in the scenes, dialogue and characters; almost without me. This must be what channeling is like. I know that must tweak anyone who experiences writer's block but I just find the entire writing process to be like rainfall these days. I assume someday it will not be this effortless but for now, bless the muse of prose. Now to buy a really extravagant gift for my editor.

On the moist side of life, I awoke this morning to the predicted heavy rains but I also discovered temperatures in the mid-60s. I had forgotten what humid was like. Apologies again to those in the early white grip of winter, tis warm and muggy in Florida. Time to shave off the winter beard and take a dip in the pool. Imagine a clean shaven manatee floating in the intracoastal waterway taking notes on the pelican couple necking on the decrepit dock by the bay.

Waiter! More wine!

Friends Along the Way

A couple of my readers have asked for some observations about the many friends and family I have seen in the past eleven months on my journey. I have thought about this for awhile and decided I need both a serious and a humorous version. You decide which one this is.

Driving: To at least three of you: I will never get in a car again with you behind the wheel. That goes for golf carts and if we take a bike ride, I want you out front, so I can see the accident coming.

Food: I am 'thinking about dessert', does not mean double chocolate with whipped cream in a small tub delivered to my room. Having your own stash of carry-out styrofoam is an obvious giveaway to your intentions. But mostly, thank all of you for not cooking like the ladies in my family of origin.

Television & DVRs: I had no idea some of those shows even existed. Those I did know about, I was sure I knew no one who watched them. It truly must take all kinds. Wii, on the other hand, is an entirely different issue.

Pets: I love all the cats, even the ones that won't come out to play. Those last two dogs were pretty cool too, but they smelled like gingerbread.

Mattresses: Many thanks to anyone who owns a firm guest bed. So far no one has caught me sleeping on the floor.

Alcohol: I approve of the upgrades you have all made in the variety and quality of your imbibing concoctions. Particularly the grape-based liquids.

Hot Tubs: Two perfect. One empty. One tepid.

Availability of Suitably Aged Female Companionship: You are all miserable failures, except one.

Wildlife: This would be the Sierra Club type of wildlife, not the variety inferred in the previous category. A gold star to Mt. Shasta, silver to the Windsor foxes, bronze to the white cat.

Best Sci-Fi Series: Hands down the offering at Beit Malkhut.

Smallest Hut which can actually be lived in: Golden Ridge in Sebastopol.

Best Grill: Gallop Road, Weed California.

Best Wine: Five way tie.

Best Barbeque: Everett & Jones, Berkeley, Ca.

Best Bunch of 60+ yr. olds to party with: K College Reunion, OK so maybe not so much partying but still great to see everyone.

I would rebook at any of the stops I have made this year. Now on to the southern portion of our travel program.

A Definite Southern Turn

It was in the high 30s when I hit the road again in Virginia this morning. By North Carolina the mercury had crept up into the mid 40s and finally the day peaked at 50 as I entered South Carolina. Another ten degrees and I would have lingered in the Carolinas, I have not seen this part of the country in almost forty years. I understand today twas into the 60s in Georgia, where I will be tomorrow and Florida, my next significant stopover, reached the 70s and even the low 80s. By geographic extrapolation it was 130 in Belize today.

Yes, the sojourn has definitely taken a southern turn. After wandering north for two months and east for nearly three, the big turn-and-return is in full swing. Not that I am in any rush. I will be dipping down into Florida where I will pause again for a couple of weeks. Then the westward tangent begins with many, hopefully warm stops along the way.

I have some research I want to do in Savannah tomorrow and then its off to the land of grapefruit, oranges and hot grandmothers.

December 15th at the Wall

Today, Washington DC had the last mild day it can expect for many months. It was fifty degrees, overcast but beautifully mild for mid-December. After a couple of other stops near the National Mall, I walked over to the Vietnam Memorial -- "The Wall". This was my first visit, though the expectation was tempered by the many articles and programs I have seen and read over the years.

I found the name and location of the one person I knew personally who had died in the Vietnam war and I walked down the Eastern incline and up halfway West to panel twenty-five and found his name. I was surprised that the memorial did not affect me as I had anticipated. I stood for awhile, you can see your own image reflected in the black polish stone. On a cloudy day like today, the image is a washout, ghost-like. Eventually I drifted back down to the center and deepest part of the memorial. I watched my own reflection blur and fade as the sunlight weakened. My image reflected through the names of those lost over there.

After a time, I looked up the eastern ramp to my right, it was empty all the way to the top. I turned my head to see a couple leaving the western entrance... I was alone at the bottom of the Maya Lin's black monument. There was the moment I had anticipated for many years and yet there was no revelation, we all know the question that still lingers with our generation. What folly, what arrogance, what failing of national character was it that brought us to a black granite wall with fifty-eight thousand names carved upon it?

To question why can be the only responsible reaction, but we have failed to answer that simple question. Shall we begin plans now for the Afghanistan Memorial Wall. How many administrations will be brought low by that war and how many names will be hammered into another cold slab of rock.

And still we have not answered the question -- why?

A Stop Along the Way

There are certain times and places where the only appropriate action is simply to pause. Back in Michigan a few weeks ago I went to my parents graves with one of my brothers. I am not overly sentimental about final resting places or mortal remains. It seems improper to attach so much reverence and import to the material while obscuring the expansive nature of the spiritual, however you define it.

On the other hand, there are events of such life changing import that a commemoration of them seems necessary and of the highest importance; as they say: Less We Forget. For those of my generation such a time and such a place come together at the Vietnam Memorial on the Mall in Washington DC. I am headed there to honor those who died in Vietnam and those who served there and still suffer from the exposure. A black gash in the ground reminds us of the dark wound in our collective souls.

I always add when talking about the Vietnam War, should you not know or perhaps poorly remember, there is a singular book that remarkably captures what happened to us all back then. I cannot recommend another piece of literature more highly: A Bright Shining Lie by Neil Sheehan.

Discarded Opening to a Story

I suggested to a writer friend the other day that all of the words his editor had so viciously and heartlessly ripped out of his new book would make several great blog posts. So taking my own advice, here is an opening that never was:

Book publishers want every book to start with a blockbuster opening line that leads off a smashing first paragraph at the beginning of a stunning chapter one that grabs the audience by their collective hearts, minds or other appropriate body parts. It’s just the way things are expected to be done in the publishing business.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." You may never have actually read a Tale of Two Cities, but I’ll bet you recognize that famous opening line.

Then there is that story about a big albino fish. Hundreds of thousands of high school and college students have dashed their heads on the shoals of Moby Dick, never to reach the final chapter. Yes OK, he was not a fish; a big white wet mammal. The point is the story opens with no mention of whale nor ship nor mad ship’s captain. Moby Dick begins with "Call me Ishmael."

Perhaps the most ludicriously infamous opening line: "Twas a dark and stormy night" actually" does begin an 1830 novel. A novel now remembered for those six words and nothing more. This iconic line now stands for every overly dramatic attempt to do exactly what every publisher wants you to do with the opening of every book—write a memorable first line!

Now should your story begin quietly or slowly, you won’t have an exciting opening, well then you use a flash forward; drop the reader into an exciting scene from later in the story. A hot sexual liaison would be a real grabber, a sudden gory murder even better. Seems violence sells better than sex and you don’t loose the moral majority of readers with a murder but you might with a tawdry Bill Clinton, Elliot Spitzer or Tiger Woods.

The key to the flash forward is, of course, the impending flashback. At the penultimate moment of your over-written flash forward, when the hook is set and the reader is putty in your literary hands, you flash back to the beginning of your story. You know the lines, the one’s that make you cringe and think: Ah shit, now we have to hear about the childhood.

"Bob grew up on a sprawling family dairy farm in the dreary hinterlands of Iowa." Now we have to hear about Bob’s mom and dad and don’t forget Aunt Rachel. Does everyone skip ahead at this point or is it only me? I mean we all know that Bob’s story doesn’t get interesting until he arrives in Singapore, so do we really need the details of the 5 AM milking regime back in Iowa?

"Millie was a quiet, bookish child; who had never ventured beyond the hedge at the end of the crushed limestone drive." Now that’s a bit better, the crushed limestone drive at least gives us the sense that the writer is going to be visually entertaining, but still – inevitably here come Millie’s parents and her dog Sissy too. The fact is that some really great stories are simply really slow starters.

All of this by way of saying that my story does not begin with a bang, a boom or a thump of any kind. This story begins in Las Vegas, just west of the Strip on the other side of Interstate 15, at the Extended Stay Hotel on Valley View Drive.

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credit: fineartamerica.com

Open Post to My Boomer Buddies

On my travels this year I have spent quality time with many friends old and new, family too. I have observed what I believe is a silly and yet serious affliction among many of my friends, all of whom are charter members of the baby boomer generation. I admit I am a member of this club, so I am outing everyone including myself. The one and only trait we all share to qualify for membership is silence.

Silence about our health.

Why is everyone so reluctant to talk about the afflictions of the inevitable aging process? Yes, I know we have all, at one time or another, joked about family gatherings where the "olde folks" sit around and share their latest diagnosis. We aren't "that old" yet, are we?

Maybe this is a manifestation of the cult of individuality which we all grew up in. Perhaps it is just not wanting to inflict our decrepitude on our friends; but quite frankly it's also a potential killer. I may know something about your syndrome, symptom or affliction that you do not. We all run in different circles of health, education and treatment. But we can't share what we don't know exists.

So my friends, speak up. Talk to your friends, your loved ones, your physicians, healers, shamans, herbalist, medicine women, sorcerer, medico and/or witch doctor. If none of them are available, I am.

Please speak up. There are lots of adventures still to be had, stick around and share some of them with me.

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Cartoon by Liza Donnelly in The New Yorker

Apogee in Atlantic City

This week my trip has reached its geographic apogee. I am the furthest I will be from where I began, whether I mark that beginning as Las Vegas or San Francisco. As a dear friend told me, I have begun the arc of return. While its still probably at least seven weeks until this chautauqua ends, I do feel a change in the pulse of my wandering. The hum has become a strum.

For one thing I saw a thermometer yesterday morning that read 19 degrees. That kind of weather I am joyfully leaving behind. There is a big storm moistening California preparing to move across the country. Everywhere I have been thus far is directly in the broad, white path of this first full-fledged winter assault. While I am not ready to run for Florida quite yet, I am going to head south by the end of the week as far as Virginia, but that should be southerly enough to dodge any drifts of white snow or patches of black ice.

The family phase of my journey has ended and now I will be imposing myself on old college friends and recent poker buddies. And yes, I am playing a bit of the old poke' myself. Today I demonstrated clearly that playing tournament poker is not like riding a bicycle. You actually do get rusty and can fall off causing injury to your wallet. Guess I should have tried the tournament with training wheels or perhaps the ladies bike without that damn ball busting middle strut.

Tomorrow a stroll on the Atlantic City boardwalk in what promises to be weather well above freezing and somewhat below Chamber of Commerce mild. Methinks the salt water taffy will be about as brittle as my last blind date.

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Art Credit: Apogee from DeviantArt.com

The Divine Comedy (canto IV): Lust

It seems you can get over the river and through the first ring of hell before you are actually judged. Well that's not completely accurate, clearly you have been ajudged to be a somewhat lacking in virtue humanoid, after all you have been condemned to hell. But as of yet you have not been assigned your rightful place in hell. So if you get as far as the borderline between ring one (limbo) and ring two (lust) you will encounter Minos.

Minos will wrap his tail around his body signifying the appropriate circle of the Inferno for you, somewhere between circle two and ring nine. There are no really good explanations nor any manuals that explain how double-sinners are dealt with. It is unclear if you get dual citizenship to two or more rings of hell. I guess it's the mystery which makes it all the more worse.

But enough of these preliminaries, let us get to some crime and punishment. The second circle of hell is reserved for those who have committed sins of lust. Seen in the medieval mind as a betrayal of reason, those who have sin through lust have allowed themselves to be swayed by desire and have had their lives rules by giving into lust. In the second circle it is always light, no darkness to hide you or your sins, hell you might try it again. But the chief punishment here is a gale force wind that pushes the lustful sinner about constantly. Metaphorically the lust blew you about in life and pushed you off the course of reason and purity; therefore, you will be pummeled for eternity by the wrathful winds of the Inferno. The winds are unquenchable, just as were your unbounded lustful desires. Actually, a fairly tame punishment for lust; but a I guess after an eon or two, even a big wind can get really annoying.

Next, I may need to take a divine break from the Inferno, I am about to begin traveling again and distracting myself with other deadly sins. Best to convert our inspection of Dante to an ongoing project. Besides the cards and letters keep coming in wanting a more light-hearted tenor to the blog. I wonder if these folks don't click on enough of my embedded links.

The Divine Comedy (canto III): Limbo

The picture above pictures Dante and his guide Virgil conversing with Ovid, Homer and Horace before the castle of Limbo. Its seems that the first ring of hell (limbo) is not such a bad place. In the Christian view none of the horrific punishments to be dealt out in the subsequent circles of hell can hold a beeswax candle to not being in the presence of the lord. So the first ring of hell is actually quite a nice place environmentally; lots of green fields and a cool seven-sided castle, just no direct contact with the supreme being.

In Limbo we find virtuous pagans, unbaptized babies and everyone who lived and died before the birth of christ.* This includes the pictured philosophers above as well as Julius Caesar, Socrates, Aristotle, even Virgil himself. Apparently even in the 12th century there was a celebrity culture, but at least back then philosophers were valued more highly than NBA players or movie stars.

As far as the Circles of Hell are concerned, Limbo provides the best example of how historical interpretation determines the "truth" of contemporary doctrine. When I was growing up in a nominally catholic tradition, limbo was the place where unbaptized babies went, never to have the chance to enter heaven. Limbo, in this story, was not part of hell but rather some spiritual cul-de-sac. However, as we see in The Divine Comedy, Limbo is clearly in The Inferno but in a very balmy neighborhood, who knew? A few years back the catholic church decided that limbo didn't really exist because it was an "unduly restrictive view of salvation." Apparently the infallible teachings of about thirty or so popes was not exactly spot on and now the whole notion of limbo has been banished to ... well, limbo.

So just to be clear. There is an antechamber (wasps and hornets) to hell, which is not a waiting room because you never get in and the first ring of hell may not actually exist. Does this mean that unwitting new arrivals, jangled by the boat ride with an apparently argumentative Charon, might these newly condemned souls step into the void that once was limbo and plummet out of The Inferno into? Where exactly do you go when you are cast out of hell? Ponder that one until tomorrow.

Next time some real punishment in the Second Ring of Hell - Lust.

*Pondering the statement: everyone who lived and died before the birth of christ. I wondered just how crowded Limbo would be and tried to google an answer to the question: "Approximately how many people lived before Anno Domini?" Not surprisingly this depends on whether you are a old time religion person or an evolutionist. The numbers changed based on how many children families had in 2500 BCE and whether Noah lived to be 900 years old; and then there is the matter of the great flood, the drowning of nine billion and the near extinguishment of the human race. Anyways, Limbo is crowded but I hear they are adding an eighth side to the castle with condos overlooking the second circle of hell (lust), which actually might be a selling point; either that or they are moving the whole thing to Las Vegas and changing its name to City Center basically the same view.

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photo credit: worldofdante.org