Buddhists of the world rejoice! The reincarnation of the legendary 17th-century Tibetan Lama Terton Chungdrag Dorje has been found and officially enthroned in a ceremony in the village of Bodh Gaya, beneath the very bo tree where Buddha himself first woke up to the ultimate emptiness of earthly reality. And who is this tulku, who out of compassion for our common human suffering has returned to bless us, comfort us and guide us to the liberation of Truth?
Steven Segal, of course.
Yes, the lumpish action star, who has delighted us for years with his roles as a clip-emptying gun jockey and gonad-gouging in-fighter, is now way up there in the Buddhist pantheon, just a couple of notches below the Dalai Lama, The Guardian reports. It?€™s true that some churls accuse Segal of slipping a few pieces of worldly green into the begging bowls of Buddhist leaders like Penor Rimpoche in order to attain his new status ?€” but they?€™re probably only jealous because Richard Gere didn?€™t get it.
Russians will, of course, remember the Enlightened One?€™s pilgrimage to Moscow, where Segal pronounced his love for "all the Muscovians," declared himself a sage who had "read all the books of all the philosophers" (shades of that fearsome polymath, Gennady Zyuganov, who once made a similar claim in his campaign literature) and tossed out bags of cheap tat at the opening of Planet Hollywood.
The man we saw then (or rather, the ethereal spark of briefly embodied eternal wisdom we saw then) is still very much ? la mode these days, it seems. His function on earth, he says, is "easing the suffering of others, serving Buddha and mankind, and planting the seed of bodhicitta [the urge to seek enlightenment] into people?€™s hearts."
The holy one carries out these embodying functions through one of the most unusual applications of Buddhist practice to come down the pike in some time: making guns-and-jiggles blood sport movies. But then again, as Buddha always said: "The material world is merely a veil of illusion ?€” but bullets ?€™n?€™ babes are boffo box office!"
Da Do Ron Ron
And now, a ringing endorsement of the Texas oilman and corporate dogsbody recently chosen as the Republican candidate for president of the United States:
"George W. Bush is simply unqualified for the job. He?€™s probably the least qualified person ever to be nominated by a major party. Yes, he was elected governor of Texas, and before that he ran a baseball team and lost a lot of other people?€™s money in the oil business. But what has happened in the intervening five years to make people believe he?€™d be a good president? That he?€™s no longer an obvious drunk?"
No, that was not Al Gore out on the stump, or Bill Clinton getting in a few last jabs, or even Molly Ivins, bless her heart, wailing on Dubya down in Fort Worth.
It was Ronald Reagan.
OK, technically it was Ronald Reagan Junior, but still. Reagan?€™s blast ?€” delivered while the GOP was gushing over the departed glory of his father ?€” put a bit of a crimp in the smooth, flat, Stay-Prest proceedings in Philadelphia last week.
"The defining moment for me was his Karla Faye Tucker smirk," said the 42-year-old former ballet dancer turned journalist. "He was joking about a woman he would put to death. No adult would ever do that. It wouldn?€™t even cross the mind of a grown-up to joke about something like that."
(And think what yocks Bush must be having this week: He executed two people on Wednesday, and one of them was ?€” tee-hee ?€” mentally retarded! Won?€™t the guys at the frat think that?€™s a hoot!)
Well, it might be, Ron ?€” after all, it worked pretty well for your old man, didn?€™t it?
Splish Splash
Little Bitty Willy Hague landed himself in a wee spot of hot water this week when he tried to pass himself off as a typical beer-guzzling "hard man" in his youth.
The diminutive leader of the Conservative Party told a magazine that back when he was a loutish teenage lad working on his family?€™s delivery truck, he used to toss down 14 pints of beer a day. (Which he then tossed back up with his fish and chips, presumably.)
It was all part of what has been a long ?€” and spectacularly unsuccessful ?€” PR campaign to change Hague?€™s image from that of a moderate, well-educated, life-long political wonk (he gave his first speech at a Tory conference when he was 16) to a low-rent, laddish, regular guy?€™s guy type guy. To this end, he has pushed his teeny tiny Tory party into adopting some of the most unpleasant prejudices of Britain?€™s knuckle-grazers: bitter xenophobia, a curiously panicky fear of homosexuals, racial paranoia and hysterical nationalism.
On the personal side of these efforts to appeal to the baser instincts of his fellow subjects, Hague has gotten married rather hastily after his selection as party leader (see "curiously panicky fear of homosexuals"), and made a great show of his love for the manly martial arts. (Gee, why does that sound familiar?)
Unfortunately, the newspapers ?€” especially the tabloids that are the lifeblood of the Tory?€™s rabble-rousing efforts ?€” once more gave Hague short shrift. "Billy Liar," screamed the Sun. The good folk in his hometown of Rotherham were equally unimpressed.
"He worked for his father?€™s soft drinks company and was known as ?€?Billy Fizz?€™ and ?€?Billy the Pop,?€™" said Terry Glossop, manager of a local pub. "The idea of him sinking 14 pints is laughable."
Despite the bad press, maybe little Willy ?€” who spent time with George W. in Philadelphia last week ?€” is on to something. After all, being an ex-drunkard is obviously the prime requirement for leading a conservative party these days.
Steven Segal, of course.
Yes, the lumpish action star, who has delighted us for years with his roles as a clip-emptying gun jockey and gonad-gouging in-fighter, is now way up there in the Buddhist pantheon, just a couple of notches below the Dalai Lama, The Guardian reports. It?€™s true that some churls accuse Segal of slipping a few pieces of worldly green into the begging bowls of Buddhist leaders like Penor Rimpoche in order to attain his new status ?€” but they?€™re probably only jealous because Richard Gere didn?€™t get it.
Russians will, of course, remember the Enlightened One?€™s pilgrimage to Moscow, where Segal pronounced his love for "all the Muscovians," declared himself a sage who had "read all the books of all the philosophers" (shades of that fearsome polymath, Gennady Zyuganov, who once made a similar claim in his campaign literature) and tossed out bags of cheap tat at the opening of Planet Hollywood.
The man we saw then (or rather, the ethereal spark of briefly embodied eternal wisdom we saw then) is still very much ? la mode these days, it seems. His function on earth, he says, is "easing the suffering of others, serving Buddha and mankind, and planting the seed of bodhicitta [the urge to seek enlightenment] into people?€™s hearts."
The holy one carries out these embodying functions through one of the most unusual applications of Buddhist practice to come down the pike in some time: making guns-and-jiggles blood sport movies. But then again, as Buddha always said: "The material world is merely a veil of illusion ?€” but bullets ?€™n?€™ babes are boffo box office!"
Da Do Ron Ron
And now, a ringing endorsement of the Texas oilman and corporate dogsbody recently chosen as the Republican candidate for president of the United States:
"George W. Bush is simply unqualified for the job. He?€™s probably the least qualified person ever to be nominated by a major party. Yes, he was elected governor of Texas, and before that he ran a baseball team and lost a lot of other people?€™s money in the oil business. But what has happened in the intervening five years to make people believe he?€™d be a good president? That he?€™s no longer an obvious drunk?"
No, that was not Al Gore out on the stump, or Bill Clinton getting in a few last jabs, or even Molly Ivins, bless her heart, wailing on Dubya down in Fort Worth.
It was Ronald Reagan.
OK, technically it was Ronald Reagan Junior, but still. Reagan?€™s blast ?€” delivered while the GOP was gushing over the departed glory of his father ?€” put a bit of a crimp in the smooth, flat, Stay-Prest proceedings in Philadelphia last week.
"The defining moment for me was his Karla Faye Tucker smirk," said the 42-year-old former ballet dancer turned journalist. "He was joking about a woman he would put to death. No adult would ever do that. It wouldn?€™t even cross the mind of a grown-up to joke about something like that."
(And think what yocks Bush must be having this week: He executed two people on Wednesday, and one of them was ?€” tee-hee ?€” mentally retarded! Won?€™t the guys at the frat think that?€™s a hoot!)
Well, it might be, Ron ?€” after all, it worked pretty well for your old man, didn?€™t it?
Splish Splash
Little Bitty Willy Hague landed himself in a wee spot of hot water this week when he tried to pass himself off as a typical beer-guzzling "hard man" in his youth.
The diminutive leader of the Conservative Party told a magazine that back when he was a loutish teenage lad working on his family?€™s delivery truck, he used to toss down 14 pints of beer a day. (Which he then tossed back up with his fish and chips, presumably.)
It was all part of what has been a long ?€” and spectacularly unsuccessful ?€” PR campaign to change Hague?€™s image from that of a moderate, well-educated, life-long political wonk (he gave his first speech at a Tory conference when he was 16) to a low-rent, laddish, regular guy?€™s guy type guy. To this end, he has pushed his teeny tiny Tory party into adopting some of the most unpleasant prejudices of Britain?€™s knuckle-grazers: bitter xenophobia, a curiously panicky fear of homosexuals, racial paranoia and hysterical nationalism.
On the personal side of these efforts to appeal to the baser instincts of his fellow subjects, Hague has gotten married rather hastily after his selection as party leader (see "curiously panicky fear of homosexuals"), and made a great show of his love for the manly martial arts. (Gee, why does that sound familiar?)
Unfortunately, the newspapers ?€” especially the tabloids that are the lifeblood of the Tory?€™s rabble-rousing efforts ?€” once more gave Hague short shrift. "Billy Liar," screamed the Sun. The good folk in his hometown of Rotherham were equally unimpressed.
"He worked for his father?€™s soft drinks company and was known as ?€?Billy Fizz?€™ and ?€?Billy the Pop,?€™" said Terry Glossop, manager of a local pub. "The idea of him sinking 14 pints is laughable."
Despite the bad press, maybe little Willy ?€” who spent time with George W. in Philadelphia last week ?€” is on to something. After all, being an ex-drunkard is obviously the prime requirement for leading a conservative party these days.