St Andrew's Day

Tomorrow, being St Andrew's Day (also patron Saint of Scotland), is an ordination anniversary for me.  I refuse to accept lavish gifts, therefore, I direct my myriad of fans to vote for felix hominum at the Canadian Blog Awards online poll.  You'll find us in category 12 - best religious blogs.

If we somehow manage to get first place, we'll blow the whole year's budget on a grand dinner party at the Faculty Club.  If we manage to get second place, we'll rent out the Power Plant and have beer and wings.  If we scrape up to third place before the voting ends, we'll have a private function at Leva Cafe.  If we fail to make the podium, I'll leave a haggis on the steps, and you can help yourself...

so the choice is yours...mmmm....

Comments

[Ian McKenzie]

Mmmmm, haggis. You almost talked me out of voting with that offer. 8^

[Stephen London]

Hmm, the faculty club. I am assuming that all who voted for you are invited?

[Susan Fredette]

Do you still have that blank cheque? - I am starting to get worried.

[joseph]

I know now that you guys are all going to vote for someone else, because you all want the haggis!! Bonus: if I come in last I'll make it myself.

[joseph]

I'm not supplying the scotch, though...

[steve the z]

I voted again, would you now please take the photo of haggis off please. These threats are truly alarming.

[joseph]

The Haggis stays! Squirm beneath it's power! And unless you get all your friends to vote as well, there will be blood pudding.

[Tim Chesterton]

Now, if you promised me single malt scotch, I would definitely vote for you...

Please take down the haggis picture and replace it with Glenlivet!

[Leslie]

I voted again this morning, Joe. Good thing I'm voting for you anyway because the haggis and blood pudding aren't all that scary for me.

I'm a substitute teacher who eats lutefisk at Christmas.

I can out squeam the haggisly squeamish.

Mwa ha ha ha!

[Monica]

I've thus far in life managed to avoid haggis, and I'd like to keep it that way. Happy (eve of) Ordination day and . . . and, um, I echo the sentiment of one of the above commentors . . . the haggis has GOT to go!!

And I did vote. In fact, I voted multiple times, as is our "tradition" here in Chicago. ;-)

[joseph]

okay, I'm pullling out all the stops: home made Christmas cake, so thick and hard you could lay a patio walkway with it.

[Chuck]

Agchhckchh!!! Is there not a true Scotsman's heart among the lotta ye?! 'Twould make me weep not a wee bit to see such lilly-livered souls pass up such a treat...if'n I waren't sa busy bashin' heeds at the local pubhouse! FOR SOOTH!!!

[Tim Chesterton]

Hey, I said I would drink Glenlivet if forced....!

[Matt]

For all you scots (and virtual scots), a bit of Robbie Burns in translation:

To a Haggis, Robert Burns

All hail your honest rounded face,
Great chieftain of the pudding race;
Above them all you take your place,
Beef, tripe, or lamb:
You're worthy of a grace
As long as my arm.

The groaning trencher there you fill,
Your sides are like a distant hill
Your pin would help to mend a mill,
In time of need,
While through your pores the dews distil,
Like amber bead.

His knife the rustic goodman wipes,
To cut you through with all his might,
Revealing your gushing entrails bright,
Like any ditch;
And then, what a glorious sight,
Warm, welcome, rich.

Then plate for plate they stretch and strive,
Devil take the hindmost, on they drive,
Till all the bloated stomachs by and by,
Are tight as drums.
The rustic goodman with a sigh,
His thanks he hums.

Let them that o'er his French ragout,
Or hotchpotch fit only for a sow,
Or fricassee that'll make you spew,
And with no wonder;
Look down with sneering scornful view,
On such a dinner.

Poor devil, see him eat his trash,
As feckless as a withered rush,
His spindly legs and good whip-lash,
His little feet
Through floods or over fields to dash,
O how unfit.

But, mark the rustic, haggis-fed;
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Grasp in his ample hands a flail
He'll make it whistle,
Stout legs and arms that never fail,
Proud as the thistle.

You powers that make mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill of fare.
Old Scotland wants no stinking ware,
That slops in dishes;
But if you grant her grateful prayer,
Give her a haggis.

Amen.

[Susan]

Haggis is Horrid. A Blessed Anniversary to you, Joseph. I have voted every single stupid day without even checking out your competition. How unethical is that?

[joseph]

Tim - we'll have to work on that; blended scotch for last place, up to premium single malt for first...

Matt - aacchhh... brings a tear to my eye!

Chuck - my parents are now retired on the east coast in Cape Breton, near a village where the street sign (yes, singular) is in Gaelic first, and then English underneath.

Susan - absolvo te.

Now you need to email all your friends....

[Mrs. Falstaff]

Haggis is delicious.