On January 31, 2009, at the risk of antagonizing diehard fans unfazed by 43 years of failure, I predicted that the New Orleans Saints would never be in the Superbowl. A year later, I was proved completely, utterly, fantastically, and gloriously wrong — and reveled in my error!

To be honest, my prognosticatory skills have never been impressive. Jeane Dixon, I’m not. Of course, if I made as many predictions as she did in her lifetime, I might be right once in a while.

Nevertheless, knowing that my predictions almost never come true — and, in fact, might best be described as self-unfulfilling prophecies — I felt certain when making my forecast that it was the single most constructive thing I could do to advance the fortunes of the team that had demoralized me for decades.

There are many things that contributed to the Saints’ long-awaited championship — a great coach, a great quarterback, a great team, long-suffering supporters, the karma of Katrina. Still, I think any objective observer would have to agree that the single most important factor was the spectacularly inaccurate prediction made by one of the world’s worst seers.

Did my prediction, assuming anyone ever saw it, enrage the team and spur them to excellence? Did the prediction itself have some magical power to achieve its opposite? I’d hazard a guess, but it’s bound to be wrong.

For all you seekers after the supernatural, do yourself a favor and don’t delve into this. It’s just too spooky. Relax, and marvel at the mystery.

I’d like to make it clear that I don’t expect any acknowledgment of, or gestures of appreciation for, my contribution to the Saints Superbowl championship this past year. (Nor have I gotten any.) After all, my father was “the forgotten man of pro football in New Orleans,” and I’m his son. Go ahead, forget me, too. See if I care.

Oh yes, one last thing: I predict that the Saints will not be in this year’s Superbowl.

[W]e know without the benefit of fossil records that the fittest on this earth will not survive and that salvation of the faithful, through a supernatural selection, is the only true principle of life. — F.R. Duplantier

The excerpt above is from a “Behind The Headlines” commentary I used to recycle at the end of every year. I first published it in a 1986 issue of The New American devoted to the evolution/creationism debate. Having realized that the word evolution had been hijacked by socialists and narrowly redefined to exclude divine and individual initiative, I decided to reclaim the word and restore it to its original fullness. Yeats’ “Sailing to Byzantium,” interpreted as a metaphor for personal evolution (for the artist, or any human being), provided the framework for the commentary.

We started 2010 here:

TAKEOFF
“With security lapses reviewed
On Flight 253, we conclude:
Due to differing beliefs
About bombs in one’s briefs,
Every passenger now must fly nude.”

And ended the year here:

THAT’S A WRAP!
There were high points to Two-Thousand-Ten,
Forming memories recalled with a grin:
Yes, I had me some fun,
But I’m glad that it’s done –
And I wouldn’t go through it again.

With 50 limericks in between.

Read them all at:

The Year In Verse

For more than three decades, the American Christian Church has participated fully and completely in the institution of no-fault divorce. Sacred bonds formed before God — bonds that take two to form and two to live — can be severed at the whim of one. Even worse, they’re often severed even when Christian spouses are living fully immersed in the church culture. – David French

I remember once, years ago, a sister of mine commenting that the kids in our family would all have been better off if our parents had gotten divorced. That theirs was not a model marriage was indisputable, that they themselves might have been better off divorced was arguable, that they should never have married each other in the first place seemed obvious, but that we, their children, would have benefitted from the termination of their union — that I could not accept. During my extended bachelorhood, I had occasion to date several women from broken homes, and every one of them, lovely though they were, bore the psychic scars. My siblings and I may not have known the joy of having happy parents, but our sorrows were as nothing compared to the broken heart of a child whose mother or father simply isn’t there. – F.R. Duplantier

Feel free to publish, post, or pass on Your Weekly Politickle by F.R. Duplantier:

THAT’S A WRAP!
There were high points to Two-Thousand-Ten,
Forming memories recalled with a grin:
Yes, I had me some fun,
But I’m glad that it’s done –
And I wouldn’t go through it again.

From the archive:

RESOLUTIONS
1. Reconnect with a special old friend
2. Earn a few dollars more than I spend
3. Try to concentrate solely
On becoming more holy
4. Make it all the way through to year’s end.
(2009)

YEAR MUFF
I sure hope that it isn’t a sign
Of accelerating mental decline
When I know it’s too late
To write 2008
But forget to write 2009.
(2008)

NEW YEAR
I’m a victim of non-circumstance,
Having gone through the year in a trance.
Maybe 2008
Didn’t turn out so great,
But I’ll soon have another new chance.
(2008)

SISYPHUS
For 12 months I had strived to get there,
And at last to the top I drew near;
When I reached the hill’s crown,
The stone rolled right back down,
So I’m starting all over this year.
(2007)

JANUARY 1
I resolve not to gain any weight,
I resolve not to ever be late,
I resolve not to get
Any further in debt –
On this single inceptional date!
(2007)

ANNUAL REPORT
I’m amazed when the year’s finally through
At the things that I’ve managed to do,
But I can’t understand
Why the things that I planned
Are the things that I never got to.
(2006)

OUT OF TIME
How I leapt into 2005
And pursued all my plans with such drive!
But it’s now crystal clear
That there’s not enough year
Before 2006 will arrive.
(2005)

RUN OF THE MILLENNIUM
Our thousand-year party was fun.
We’ll repeat it for 2001.
A millennial glow
Two years in a row
And a hangover second to none!
(2000)

DISCONTINUING RESOLUTIONS
Resolutions I’ve hastily made
Are infrequently kept, I’ m afraid;
Still, I find I can live up
To a promise to give up
Resolutions I’ve hastily made.
(1998)

Last week’s verse:

WISH LIST
This Christmas, I’m not being shy;
I want something no money can buy:
For our country to be
Always brave, always free,
Always true to our Father on high.

Mass times and readings

A Visit from the Christ Child

by Père Robért
(for Maria, Ida, Isabel, Maxine, Crozet & Audrey)

Twas the morning of Christmas, when all through the house
All the family was frantic, including my spouse;
For each one of them had one thing only in mind,
To examine the presents St. Nick left behind.

The boxes and wrapping and ribbons and toys
Were strewn on the floor, and the volume of noise
Increased as our children began a big fight
Over who got the video games, who got the bike.

I looked at my watch and I said, slightly nervous,
“Let’s get ready for church, so we won’t miss the service.”
The children protested, “We don’t want to pray:
We’ve just got our presents, and we want to play!”

It dawned on me then that we had gone astray,
In confusing the purpose of this special day;
Our presents were many and very high-priced
But something was missing — that something was Christ!
I said, “Put the gifts down and let’s gather together,
And I’ll tell you a tale of the greatest gift ever.

“A savior was promised when Adam first sinned,
And the hopes of the world upon Jesus were pinned.
Abraham begat Isaac, who Jacob begat,
And through David the line went to Joseph, whereat
This carpenter married a maiden with child,
Who yet was a virgin, in no way defiled.

“Saying ‘Hail, full of Grace,’ an archangel appeared
To Mary the Blessed, among women revered:
The Lord willed she would bear — through the Spirit — a son.
Said Mary to Gabriel, ‘God’s will be done.’

“Now Caesar commanded a tax would be paid,
And all would go home while the census was made;
Thus Joseph and Mary did leave Galilee
For the city of David to pay this new fee.

“Mary’s time had arrived, but the inn had no room,
So she laid in a manger the fruit of her womb;
And both Joseph and Mary admired as He napped
The Light of the World in his swaddling clothes wrapped.

“Three wise men from the East had come looking for news
Of the birth of the Savior, the King of the Jews;
They carried great gifts as they followed a star –
Gold, frankincense, myrrh, which they’d brought from afar.

“As the shepherds watched over their flocks on that night,
The glory of God shone upon them quite bright,
And an angel explained the intent of the birth,
Saying, ‘Glory to God and His peace to the earth.’

“For this was the Messiah whom prophets foretold,
A good shepherd to bring his sheep back to the fold;
He was God become man, He would die on the cross,
He would rise from the dead to restore Adam’s loss.

“Santa Claus, Christmas presents, a brightly lit pine,
Candy canes and spiked eggnog are all very fine;
Let’s have fun celebrating, but leave not a doubt
That Christ is what Christmas is really about!”

The children right then put an end to the noise,
They dressed quickly for church, put away all their toys;
For they knew Jesus loved them and said they were glad
That He’d died for their sins, and to save their dear Dad.

Copyright ©1986, F.R. Duplantier

Daddy Claus/Père Robért/Bayou Bob

We’ve never shilled for Santa Claus in our house, nor for the Easter Bunny, nor for any other commercialized Christian travesty. The Tooth Fairy we tolerated, but only because the pretense was so obviously ridiculous that our kids understood from the outset that we were putting them on. We’re not Jehovah’s Witnesses, mind you; it’s just that the true story of Christmas is far more compelling than Clement Moore’s saccharine fabrication, and we didn’t want our kids to learn one day, with disillusionment and a sense of betrayal, that there really is no Santa Claus and their parents had been lying to them — and worse, to wonder what other things we’d lied about.

A friend related to us once the logical extrapolation her child made when first learning the truth about Santa: “Is God real?” How ironic that Santa should sow the seeds of atheism!

For economic, as well as theological, reasons, we’ve always celebrated Christmas modestly. Not only did we want our kids to understand the true meaning of Christmas; we also lacked the resources to spend extravagantly, even if we’d wanted to. And it seemed absurd to credit what largesse we could afford to some imaginary buffoon in a red clown suit. Thus was “Daddy Claus” born.

Janet’s Law Is Coming
to Town!

by F.R. Duplantier

You’d rather opt out?
You’d better get scanned,
Cause if you opt out
You’ll get a cold hand:
Janet’s Law is coming to town.

She’s lining you up
And checking you twice,
Couldn’t care less who’s naughty or nice:
Janet’s Law is coming to town.

She sees you when you’re naked,
She knows what’s in your slacks,
She knows that you and grandma could
Launch some terrorist attacks!

O! You’d rather opt out?
You’d better get scanned,
Cause if you opt out
You’ll get a cold hand:
Janet’s Law is coming to town,
Janet’s Law is coming to town.