Korrektiv turns 4 today. (Not 5 as previously reported. Unless you count the “lost year”.)
Korrektiv turns 4 today. (Not 5 as previously reported. Unless you count the “lost year”.)
A nod to Kierkegaard and Walker Percy: existentialist tomfoolery, political satire, literary homage, word mongering, a year-round summer reading club, Dylanesque music bits, apocalyptic marianism, poetry, fiction, meta-porn, a prisoner work-release program.
Søren Kierkegaard
Walker Percy
Bob Dylan
Literature & History
Letters from an American
Beau of the Fifth Column
This American Life
The Writer’s Almanac
San Diego Reader
The Stranger
The Inlander
Adoremus
Charlotte was Both
The Onion
From Empty Hands
Ellen Finnigan
America
Commonweal
First Things
National Review
The New Republic
All Manner of Thing
Gerasene Writers Conference
Scrutinies
DarwinCatholic
Catholic and Enjoying It
Bad Catholic
Universalis
Is My Phylactery Showing?
Quotidian Quintilian
En pocas palabras
William Wilson, Guitarist Extraordinaire
Signposts in a Strange Land
Ben Hatke
Daniel Mitsui
Dappled Things
The Fine Delight
Gene Luen Yang
Wiseblood Books
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Okay, I already said happy birthday like a million times but this photo is killing me (hack, hack, hack) so with what last breath I have, I’ll say it again.
You know — (**tangent alert**) — one thing I have noticed about all you Catholics is this tendency to smoke cigarettes. They make great props to wave around while propounding on some obscure point of theology, I guess… 🙂
Not all Catholics smoke. In fact I can promise you that my blog is a totally smoke-free zone.
mrangelmeg and I live in a county which has a very restrictive smoking ban for eating establishments. It always bothers us when we leave our county and eat in other places where there are actual smoking sections. Yuck!
Oh, Happy Birthday guys. Keep up the good work.
You keep writing and I will keep reading.
it's only been four years?!
congrats & happy birthday, anyway!
Happy Birthday…
Children are dying…
People are starving…
It’s your birthday…
(ommmmmmmmmm)
(We sing that in the Catholic Worker community I belong to. Think simple minor chant. Dark sense of humor there, yah.)
I had an English teacher in high school that serenaded us thus:
Happy Birthday.
Happy Birthday.
Gloom and misery fill the air
People dying everywhere
Happy Birthday.
(he also told the girls — we should have sued, but didn’t know to back then — “I would give you a birthday kiss, but then the rest of your life would be an anti-climax.”)
I have an image in my head of my favorite priest, Fr. Michael Sweeney, OP, standing outside of Blessed Sacrament in Seattle, dressed in his Dominican habit, having a smoke before mass.
Maybe it’s a smells-and-bells thing. Maybe the nicotene helps the mind negotiate some the sharp corners of Catholic theology.