In former times it was a simple place,
Where one could read without a blushing face,
With thickly bound and edifying titles,
Like Noble Greeks, and red highlighted Bibles,
And Shakespeare (sans Andronicus), and Mark Twain,
Whose humor, though defiant, was humane.
Today it’s more permissive, and diverse,
Though who’s to say it’s better, or it’s worse.
Now crammed beside the Good Book, mere shelves over,
Are bloody tales as chilling as October,
And novelettes as lurid as those scenes
Displayed in certain grownup magazines.
—J. P. Celia
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Restoring the Chaplain Corps’ Moral Backbone
Secretary of War Pete Hegseth announced that he is revamping the U.S. military’s chaplain corps as part…
Just Stop It
Earlier this summer, Egypt’s Ministry of Religious Endowments launched a new campaign. It is entitled “Correct Your…
Kathy Hochul, Champion of the Culture of Death
Yesterday, New York Governor Kathy Hochul announced her intention to sign the Medical Aid in Dying Act,…
