Sunday: meander now, sermon later
Sure, I get it, it was handled with such apparent diplomatic carelessness that France, the French government, is totally pee-oed over the torpedoing of the $90bn submarine deal with Australia, angrily recalling ambassadors for consultation. But anyone who doesn't get it - - that the opportunity changed and nuclear subs are more to be desired than conventional diesel electric, especially considering the investment, the future, policy and strategic mission envisioned - - is an alphabet idiot. Or just doing political CYA.
Furthermore, The Guardian's report (below) indicates other than a totally uncaring handling of a highly confidential process. Once nuclear subs became available there was no way to damage control with the French. And I mean, for the French this may have been primarily a profitable business deal engaging their defense industry long term; but for Australia it's a vital matter of national defense capability decades into the future. Reading the Guardian, perhaps the French government were not as surprised as for political reasons they are making out to be outraged. (for anyone who cares, as I do having been involved, both while in the U S Navy in WashDC and later as my main business venture in retirement, in Australian defense acquisition projects forty years ago, scroll way down)
From NYT 5:48 pm, Sun, Sep 19, 2021:
Relations between France and the U.S. have sunk to their lowest level in decades.
The U.S. and Australia went to extraordinary lengths to keep Paris in the dark as they secretly negotiated a plan to build nuclear submarines, scuttling a defense contract worth at least $60 billion. President Emmanuel Macron of France was so enraged that he recalled the country’s ambassadors to both nations.
Australia approached the new administration soon after President Biden’s inauguration. The conventionally powered French subs, the Australians feared, would be obsolete by the time they were delivered. The Biden administration, bent on containing China, saw the deal as a way to cement ties with a Pacific ally.
But the unlikely winner is Britain, who played an early role in brokering the alliance. For its prime minister, Boris Johnson, who will meet this coming week with Biden at the White House and speak at the U.N., it is his first tangible victory in a campaign to make post-Brexit Britain a player on the global stage.
Doing my fantasy fiction homework, I read Simon Birch, the entire film plot, which doesn't even come close to "A Prayer for Owen Meany", and I'm not going to watch it, as it would require me to buy or rent it. When a highly respected friend of long standing recommend Owen Meany, I switched from John Irving's "The Hotel New Hampshire" without finishing it, to Owen and read cover to cover. An extraordinary novel which, John Irving was correct, defies making into a competent film: many years ago I saw a Bible film about the life of Jesus in which the Feeding of the Five Thousand was portrayed with live fish leaping in baskets as the disciples distributed the bread and fish meal to the multitude: it was ridiculous, the stupidest thing I've ever seen, showed that whoever wrote it had no idea of sacred story, and pretty much cured me of watching movies about Jesus. Not Simon Birch either as a stand in for Owen Meany.
I'm maybe halfway through Hotel, (am I? they just got to Venice) and if I go back and finish it I may watch that (Hotel) film, but I will write a blog on Owen, maybe sometime this week. Don't wait up or hold your breath.
Today I'm filling in for our rector, who went to yesterday's Alabama-Florida game, so as is my standing commitment, the transcript of my homiletic endeavor will print here as a blogpost as soon as this morning's 10:30 service ends. The football game turned out far, far better than I feared, but a loss is a loss and anyone who shouts 32/29 may get a mystery wafer instead of unleavened bread at church this morning!
Food paragraph? Reported before as I looked for the best rye bread to go with my Limburger cheese, I found Bread Village, a Florida firm who import German bakery products and ship them throughout the United States. Their shipping policy delivers perfect products, is my own experience so far. Their "farmers bread" is the only rye bread I've ever really liked. Their others are also quite good, especially the high seed bread, and this past week I've had their marzipan Stollen, which is superb to my taste, and Lebkuchen, their German gingerbread cookies, uniquely tasty.
Having in recent years, to my dismay, seen my male ancestry line, which lifelong I'd been told was English, traced to one Andreas Wäller who came to America from Germany in the 1700s, and my aversion to Germans from a childhood of propaganda against and horror of the Third Reich and WW2, I've had my own difficult years trying to reconcile to my German origins. But factoring in Vietnam, and My Lai, and other instances of non-VNI (Navy War College term relating to Vital National Interest as the sole acceptable reason for committing American troops, lives and blood to conflict in foreign policy) involvement in so many questionable places, my earlier convictions of the purity of American activity has been totally destroyed, disillusioned, and Germans end up in moral equivalency with us and all humans; so I'm becoming okay with all things German and loving the food aspect. Disabused, I no longer am abused of the notion that the best Americans came only from England, a ridiculous notion in the first place.
Perhaps finally for the morning, further to my taste in automobiles, a truck that, from age twelve on, I fervently wished my father would acquire for his fish business,
but he was most practical those years,
only bought the large trucks the business required, and for local commute and transport of ice, he bought the used 1936 Pontiac business coupe that I've described here before,
cut the back out
and built in a wood plank deck finished with a strip of angle-iron, and we drove that for several years, our pickup truck. A pickup truck as above I'd have been delighted to drive on dates, but not the vehicle we knew as "the Pontiac". No worries though, because by the Time I was licensed and trusted to drive a car on my own, we had the Dodge sedan and the Plymouth station wagon.
Welcome, happy morning! age to age shall say. I'm preaching and celebrating this morning, but Dr Dan is leading the adult Sunday School class in, I think, an adventure into the Book of the Acts of the Apostles, the second volume that the anonymous Luke wrote for the most excellent Theophilus.
RSF&PTL
TW+
From The Guardian
The nuclear option: why has Australia ditched the French submarine plan for the Aukus pact?
Just two weeks before the bombshell, senior ministers from both countries met and declared they were ‘committed to cooperation’. How did it all go so wrong?