My All-time Favorite Show - Supernatural - I Will Not Bow

Day 1 - 30 Day TV Challenge



I swear this show was custom made just for me. The folklore and legends are well-researched (unusual for a TV show), and the characters and stoylines are compelling. "Supernatural" makes me completely nerd happy.

30 Day TV Challenge

I guess this is the sequel to the 30 Day Song Challenge.

Day 1 - Favourite Show Of All Time.....Supernatural.
Day 2 - Least Favourite Show Of All Time.....Fear Factor.
Day 3 - Best Theme Song.....Band of Brothers.
Day 4 - Worst Theme Song.....Three's Company.
Day 5 - Favourite TV Character.....Dr. Cox, the Trickster, and Robin Hood
Day 6 - Least Favourite TV Character.....Quagmire, from Family Guy.
Day 7 - TV Show You Can Quote Best.....Supernatural.
Day 8 - TV Show With Your Favourite Actor.....Supernatural.
Day 9 - TV Show With Your Favourite Actress.....Saving Grace.
Day 10 - A Guilty Pleasure TV Show.....Transformers.
Day 11 - A TV Show No One Thinks You'd Like.....Robot Chicken.
Day 12 - A TV Show That Resembles Your Life.....Dexter.
Day 13 - Your Favourite Childhood TV Show.....Xena: Warrior Princess.
Day 14 - Favourite TV Drama.....Battlestar Galactica.
Day 15 - Favourite TV Comedy.....Scrubs.
Day 16 - Favourite Reality Show.....Hell's Kitchen.
Day 17 - Favourite TV Documentary.....America, the Story of US.
Day 18 - Favourite Animated TV Show.....Transformers: Armada and Avatar: The Last Airbender.
Day 19 - A Show you consider Underrated.....Robin Hood.
Day 20 - A Show you Consider Overrated.....Glee.
Day 21 - A Cancelled Show You Would Bring Back.....Joan of Arcadia.
Day 22 - A Current Show You Would Cancel.....Swamp People.
Day 23 - A TV Series You Would Make Into a Film.....Castle.
Day 24 - A Film You Think Deserves Its Own Series.....The Prophecy.
Day 25 - TV Show You Used to Like, Now Hate.....2 and a Half Men.
Day 26 - Your Favourite Scene From a TV Show.....Buffy the Vampire Slayer, when Buffy threw herself into the abyss of hell to save the Earth.
Day 27 - Favourite TV Channel.....History Channel.
Day 28 - Least Favourite TV Channel.....Any of Oprah's channels.
Day 29 - A Show You Never Miss.....Supernatural.
Day 30 - Favourite Episode of Any TV Show Ever....."Hammer of the Gods," from Supernatural, the episode when Gabriel finally took a stand in the war between Michael and Lucifer, and he stood up on behalf of humanity.

San Miguel del Milagro - Part 2

I first stumbled across Diego's story nearly three years ago, when EWTN happened to be airing a special about places consecrated to St. Michael. Incidentally, that was the only thing that could've gotten me to watch EWTN. Anyway, the show was hosted by Bob and Penny Lord, and they went to San Miguel del Milagro. Penny, who said she was troubled by some terrible arthritic ailment, drank the water and declared she immediately felt better. I'm all for the power of positive healing, but I was still skeptical. I know that people tend to see what they want to see.

So I researched the place on my own. Tragically, not much stuff can be found in English, and my knowledge of Spanish is limited. Still, I read a statistic that claimed that the well healed over 90% of the people who went there looking for treatment.

Having terrible asthma that feels like it's slowly killing me, as well as excema that is excruciating, I started to think that I should go there.

My idea was problematic, however. God and I aren't always on speaking terms. How could I go to a place like that and honestly expect to be healed? Still, I couldn't put the thought aside. I became more and more certain I should go. It became an obsession with me. All I could think about was this little village in Mexico that I'd never heard of before.

I started to make arrangements to go.

But just when I thought I was free and clear, those drug wars started on the border. American tourists were being kidnapped and murdered by cartels to either smuggle drugs back to the States, or to send a brutal message to the police agencies cracking down on them. My family, terrified of the idea of me going to Mexico, kept pressuring me not to go.

When they didn't try to scare me, they were trying to insist it would never work. Keep in mind how my mother used to be a zealot. Yet, she and my father both told me not to get my hopes up. According to them, they'd really hate it if I went down there, nothing happened, and then my relationship with God would be even worse than it was before.

But the worst thing was when my mother thought she'd turn my pilgrimage into a Club Med retreat. She thought it'd be cool to spend a day in San Miguel, then jet to some Mexican beach for a week to kick back and relax. When she got it in her head that she was going to come along and transform my spiritual journey with her own agenda, I felt extremely uncomfortable. In my mind, it was going to be hard enough to convince God why I should be healed too. But if he thought I was treating this whole thing like he was a magic genie and I was demanding my three wishes, my request for healing would most definitely be denied.

Frustrated with them all, I called the whole thing off.

But though I tried to put away all notions of going to San Miguel del Milagro, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I imagined what the town would be like, and wondered if St. Michael would meet me there. When I first learned of it, I don't think I was spiritually ready to go because I was skeptical and uncertain. But as time went on, my confidence grew. It got to the point that I stopped considering the possibility of being overlooked. As time went on, I became certain I would be healed.

In retrospect, I look at those obstacles in my path, and realize as annoying as they were, they were necessary. I needed the extra time to grow in faith. Now, I think I'm as ready as I can be to make this pilgrimage.

Traditionally, pilgrims walked to their destination, but I'm not walking to Mexico. I think God will give me a pass on that since it is still very dangerous on the border. However, I believe that making a pilgrimage involves a measure of sacrifice, and it wouldn't mean anything if there weren't any danger involved. There's a place in Florida where I could go to seek healing, but where's the sacrifice? Where's the risk? That's why it has to be Mexico.

So, if all goes well, I'll be in Mexico as early as October.

And when I come back, by the grace of God my skin and lungs will be healthy.

San Miguel del Milagro - Part 1

There's a village in Mexico called San Miguel del Milagro (the miracle of St. Michael), and I'm determined to go to there in the very near future. It's the site of the miraculous apparition of St. Michael the Archangel. Here's the story (originally found on a site called "Catholic Devotions"):

While participating in a procession on the Feast of Saint Mark (April 25, 1631), Diego Lázaro saw Saint Michael the Archangel in a vision. Unseen and unheard by everyone else, Michael spoke:

Know my son, that I am Saint Michael, the Archangel. I come to tell you that it is God's Will and mine, that you tell the neighbors of this village and of its surroundings, that in a ravine, which is made of two hills and is in front of this place, can be found a spring of miraculous water for all infirmities. It is under a big boulder. Don't doubt what I tell you, nor put aside what I command you.

Diego Lázaro, perplexed and confused, convinced himself to keep the matter quiet, tell no one, and ignore Saint Michael's message. Naturally, he was certain no one would believe a poor, uneducated peasant.

It was only a matter of days before Diego Lázaro became seriously ill, from what appeared to be a life-threatening heat stroke. He agonized on his deathbed while listening to his family and friends pray for his soul. His suffering was inconsolable, and he lingered between life and death.

While Diego Lázaro lay dying in his small hut, and his loved ones prayed over him, a bolt of lightning had crashed through the windows. This happened so fast and caused such a fright that all the bystanders raced out of the hut and down the hill for their lives.

Abandoned, Diego Lázaro encountered the mighty Archangel-Prince once again. Saint Michael's entrance was intended to drive away the supporters. After a while, those who had abandoned the hut returned, expecting to find it consumed and Diego Lázaro dead. Instead, everyone was shocked and overcome with wonder and amazement. Not only did they find the hut intact, but they also discovered Diego Lázaro still alive, and laying upon his bed as before. To their surprise, with his now clear eyes wide open, he told them, "Don't be afraid for me, for Saint Michael has appeared to me and given me back my health. He took me, I don't know how, to a ravine near here. He went before me, taking huge steps. At the ravine he told me, 'Here, where I touch with my staff, is the fountain that I spoke of while you were in the procession. You must make it known, or you will be gravely punished.'

Saint Michael touched the earth with a golden staff pointed towards heaven, and a great and startlingly brilliant beam of light came forth from the sky to mark and illuminate the place of the spring.

'This light which you have seen descend from heaven is the virtue which God is giving to this spring for the health and healing of all infirmities and necessities. Make it known to all.'

Saint Michael the Archangel somehow had spiritually transported Diego Lázaro to the place he had previously mentioned in his first admonition, and revealed the actual site of the foretold miraculous spring.

When Diego Lázaro finished relaying what had happened, he sprightly jumped up out of bed in perfect health, where only moments before he laid dying. At this, the onlookers and listeners became believers, that the vision was not a mere dream, or even the over-active imagination of someone with heat stroke.

Diego Lázaro journeyed some 20 kilometers east to the city of Tlaxcala, the province's capital. As he had initially feared, nobody believed the "wild imaginings" of an impoverished and uncultured citizen. In fact, he was severely reprimanded and threatened with physical punishment if he persisted in telling his story. But they didn't succeed in discouraging him with their cruel reception. Upon returning home to his wife and parents, he decided they should all try to find the place revealed by Saint Michael and sanctified by the virtue of God.

The site of the miraculous spring was a hill divided by a great ravine called "the Place of the Turkey Vultures" (Tzopilotitlan) and "the Place of the Back Water" (Tzopiloatl). Half way up this earthen divide was the site Saint Michael had designated with his golden staff, however, the holy well directly beneath where he touched was not exposed in any way. Instead, it was covered and hidden from discovery by a large and heavy stone; the boulder spoken of during the second apparition.

Upon arriving at the site, Diego Lázaro told his parents and wife exactly where they must dig. His knowledge of where to dig, although accurate, was insufficient. Even when all four pushed together, they couldn't dislodge the huge slab. It was too heavy for them.

While they struggled in vain to uncover the holy well, a handsome young man, a stranger never seen before or afterwards, appeared from out of nowhere and offered to help. He merely touched the slab and it began to move freely and easily. Thereupon, all four commenced digging till they beheld the crystalline spring. The sacred well contained water clearer than mountain air. But once more, Diego disobeyed Michael and resisted telling anyone what he'd found.

Some six months later, on November 13th, Diego Lázaro participated in another festival; this one honoring San Diego de Alcalá. During Mass, he was mystically overcome and painfully attacked physically. He felt something invisible assault his limbs with bone-breaking pain. Everything hurt. Unable to bear this excruciating and mysterious pain, he struggled back to his little straw hut in agony, confused, and in a quandary. In no condition to move, Saint Michael appeared a third time to a very humbled Diego Lázaro. On this occasion his admonition was most severe. He spoke in a powerful and commanding voice:

Why are you a coward and negligent in fulfilling what I entrusted to you? Do you wish that I punish you by another means for your disobedience? Get up and make known what I have commanded you.

After this last of Saint Michael's strict orders, Diego Lázaro's unexplainable ailment disappeared. Instilled with the Saint Michael's words, he experienced a newfound courage and faith. No longer a reluctant messenger of God's grace, he immediately and docilely returned to the place of the miraculous spring and filled several containers with a substantial amount of the holy water.

Renewed in spirit, Diego Lázaro set out to share his blessed fortune, but not with civil authorities. This time he journeyed to Puebla de los Angeles (the town of the angels), where the Bishop of the province resided, and obtained an audience with him. To Diego Lázaro's delight, his Excellency promised to have the apparitions investigated. As proof of the miracle, the Bishop mandated that the water Diego Lázaro shared be distributed both among the sick within his household as well as throughout the infirmary of the Royal Hospital. All who drank the water regained perfect health.

St. Michael and the People Who Claim to Talk for Him

I've been interested in St. Michael for a long time, so naturally I've done a lot of research on him. And there's a phenomenon on the rise that I think can be blamed on the rise of the internet and the free exchange of information. This phenomenon, of course, is people who say he's in constant contact with them because he wants them to impart his messages on the world. These people are a dime a dozen, but what's really amazing is that they don't seem to know about everyone else making similar crackpot claims.

(Seriously, did these people all wake up today and have a heaping bowl of Crazy O's?)

Interestingly enough, everyone's channelled messages basically start the same way: "You're my children, I love you, I don't expect you to believe everything I say, blah blah blah blah blah. Usually "Michael" refers to God as "the Creator," never as "Father" or "Lord." Then his "chosen" medium goes into a hippie, esoteric diatribe about the nature of the universe; his descriptions and directions for living are detailed enough to fool people into thinking they're real, but vague enough to allow his "chosen" mediums wiggle room. By that, I mean they make outrageous claims that can't be proven or disproven.

I spoke to one of Michael's "chosen" people once, a woman named Carolyn Ann O'Riley, and everything went swimmingly at first. She was forthcoming with advice. She was so friendly, and some of the things she told me about Michael mirrored my own life, so I vaguely believed she really talked to him. But when I asked her how her channeling worked, not out of skepticism but pure curiosity, she became hostile and defensive. She told me she would not tell me how the channelling worked, and that she never wanted me to contact her again. Well, that screamed fake to me, and I sent her one last email to tell her so. I also made it very clear that she should be ashamed of herself for preying on gullible people who looked to people like her for comfort and a sense of connection to something greater than themselves.

My favorites among these new species of pond scum are the ones who charge you to talk to Michael. Part of me is tempted to pay their fee just so I can have the pleasure of catching them in a lie. The amounts they charge vary in price, but I've seen it fluctuate from $150 to $1,500 (Ms. O'Riley charges). Yeah, that definitely strikes me as something the real Michael would encourage...

I try to avoid these people like the plague because they make me so mad, but today I accidentally came across an entire book dedicated to Michael's "thoughts" on the so-called 2012 apocalypse and how he says it will happen. Listen, I don't know what we can expect in 2012. Part of me says this is a repeat of the Millenium hysteria, and part of me, the part that's also studying worldwide apocalyptic literature, can't ignore how all the world's prophecies seem to be converging at that same point in 2012. So honestly, I don't know if I should scoff or panic at the idea. But I do know this: the Bible says that nobody but God, not even Jesus, is privy to the date of the Apocalypse. So if Jesus doesn't know, Michael doesn't either. The fact that this woman doesn't know or remember that little tidbit of info automatically discredits her.

But what bothers me the most are the droves of people who are willing to hang on these so-called mediums' words without so much as an ounce of skepticism. Their lives are so sad, so unfulfilled, so longing for divine approval, that they forget to put their blinders on. I mean, I get that, I really do. I search for Michael for the same reasons. But unfortunately, I also know that most people are liars. So every piece of evidence I find concerning him must be taken with a grain of salt. But these sheep who blindly listen to these messages from "Michael" just automatically believe everything they hear.

Okay, so yeah, I'm a little jaded. I've been studying St. Michael for the last fifteen years, since I had my own mysterious encounter, and I've never found any solid, convincing evidence that anyone can channel him. As far as I can tell, if he wants someone to know something, he shows up alive and in the flesh to tell them. If everything we know about him is true, if he is indeed the archetypal knight in shining armor and most devoted of God's servants, then it stands to reason he's not shy.

And how do I know he doesn't really talk through someone? Admittedly, I don't. He may very well have one or two people he's handpicked for this mission. I can't say for certain that he hasn't because I personally don't know the guy. But again, these "chosen" people can be found in hordes on the internet. I'm pretty sure at least 99% of them are fake. I seriously doubt Michael has enough time in the day to talk to the millions of crackpots claiming to speak for him while still managing to battle demons and whatnot.

In short, if you see someone on the internet claiming to channel St. Michael, you are obliged to call bullshit.

The Hypocrisy of the So-Called Faithful

You know, I have this theory that organized religion could almost be tolerable if we could somehow just get rid of that pesky human element.

I sometimes have to resist the urge to go up to one of the "devout" and just shake the hell out of them until enough room opens up in their pea-sized brains that a modicum of common sense can sift through. I want to literally smack them in the face with a copy of the Bible and ask them if they've ever actually opened it.

I, of course, do not refer to the moderate believers, the people who are basically good people trying to do the right thing in a very scary, screwed up world. I don't believe a few bad apples can spoil the whole bunch, just like I don't believe a handful of fanatical nutcases should ruin the reputation of decent, morally centered people. I'm directing tonight's indignation against the people who think Jerry Falwell was the second coming of Jesus, okay? Let's be clear.

My husband comes from this crowd, and while I try to play nice with my in-laws, there are times I rage inside about the ignorance and intolerance that abounds. You wouldn't believe the arguments we've had about evolution and homosexuality. One time, his grandmother hatefully insisted that the Christmas song, "Jingle Bells," was satanic and glorified the Devil (yeah, I'm still scratching my head over that one). Another time, she insisted there is no such thing as ghosts. "But, don't you worship the Holy Ghost?" I asked. She didn't appreciate my snarky tone. But today, it's not them I rail against. It's actually the members of their congregation, these so-called soldiers for Christ.

My teenage niece, Becky, who is very active in her church's youth ministry, got shingles. Now, I know not everyone who reads this is medically saavy, so let me spell it out for you in layman's terms. When you get a virus like chicken pox, you rarely get it again. But sometimes, due to stress, a weak immune system, or whatever, the chicken pox virus will manifest itself again. Shingles, therefore, is essentially the chicken pox virus that has manifested itself in the body's nerves. You even get the chicken pox rash, but the blisters follow your nerves. My dad's gotten it several times, and each time he looks like a weird roadmap of blisters, or that one stripey guy on Seaquest. Old people are usually the ones to get shingles, so it's a little unusual that Becky contracted it. Here's the thing, though. If you've had chicken pox before, and who hasn't in this day and age, or at least gotten the vaccine, you're safe.

But as far as Becky's church is concerned, she's the great, unwashed she-demon come down to infect that masses with her evil microbes.

This intolerance really pisses me off. I've battled with it since I married my husband. They think I'm the Devil because I'm a Catholic, and not a very good one at that. I drink wine, I dance (badly, but it counts), I worship idols, I believe in such gosh-darn, irrational things like science, I finished high school, heck, I finished junior high, I'm not married to my cousin, etc. I feel terrible that she's now on the receiving end. See, I can take it because I consider the source. But this church is her whole life, and she really respects their opinions. So it irks me how these people are supposedly her friends, but they are treating her like a leper. They've kicked her out of her youth group and have stopped talking to her altogether. Their parents confronted my brother and sister-in-law, telling them that she shouldn't be allowed to leave the house.

Okay, I understand not everyone's had chicken pox and so yeah, she could potentially infect someone else. Keep her home to be safe. But to treat her like a social pariah for it?

It takes me back to my childhood. I have terrible excema, and when I was very little, AIDS was still a great mystery to doctors. One of the only things they knew about it was that it was highly contagious and that it caused a rash. My second grade teacher saw my excema rashes, panicked, and thought I had AIDS even though I told her what it really was. Incidentally, excema isn't contagious at all. Still, she freaked and launched a crusade against me to get me expelled from the school. She tried to browbeat the principal and she made sure to warn all the parents about me. As a result, many of my friends were forbidden to go near me. I came this close to being kicked out of school. When my mom got wind of it, she brought in my doctor's extensive explanation stating my disease, albeit terrible, wasn't AIDS and certainly wasn't contagious. Still, the damage was already done. And the teacher, even with the evidence weighing in my favor, never quit treating me like a leper.

But that brings me back to the issue of the "devoted." See, the woman who campaigned against me was merely a teacher, and look what kind of trouble she caused in my life. She wasn't an entire church. Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't Jesus put his hands on lepers without a single ounce of worry for his safety, or one judgmental thought?

Yes, but Katie, that's Jesus. Of course he wouldn't be afraid. God would protect him from leprosy and other contagious diseases!

Okay, in the interest of fairness I can't play the Jesus card, but what about truly good Christians like, say, Mother Theresa? Isn't it amazing that in all that time she touched and hugged lepers, she never got sick with it herself?

Of course, one doesn't have to be Jesus or Mother Theresa to be a good Christian. They just need to open up their Bible and actually read it. I seem to recall Jesus saying something along the lines of the Golden Rule; treat others how you want to be treated. I also remember a parable about a good Samaritan. Gosh! When you really start to look at Jesus and his messages in totality, there isn't really anything condoning hatred and condemnation of your fellow man for any reason whatsoever. I'm just so shocked that Christianity's numero uno religious figure didn't advocate being a douchebag to your neighbor.

Actually, it IS kind of shocking when you consider that so many Christians are douchebags.

The bottom line is, how can you call yourself a Christian if you don't heed Christ's words?

The BBC Version of Robin Hood

Summer is my off time from school, and although I probably should be reading more books than I do, I actually prefer to veg out in front of the TV. My brain needs the time off worse than I do! Anyway, a few weeks ago, I discovered the BBC's version of "Robin Hood" on Netflix. Seeing as how Robin Hood is a Trickster figure, and my Master's thesis will be about Tricksters, I thought I'd give it a whirl.

And I loved it!

You know, the danger of doing Robin Hood, apart from the fact that it's been done a thousand times, is that his character risks being too goody goody and self-righteous. I can't stand characters who essentially have their hands on their hips, smiling broadly, with a light glinting off their flawless teeth. I like characters, especially good guys, who have dirt on their noses. This version of Robin Hood, played by Jonas Armstrong, is different in that he isn't Captain America (or England, as it were). I get the feeling that he's not altruistic and completely selfless. He helps people because it's the right thing to do, sure, but also because he wants their adoration. I find this unusual deviance wonderfully complex, and it colors him with more richness than I've seen in previous versions.

But as well-developed of a character as Robin is, the Sheriff is the most compelling villain I've ever seen in the Robin Hood myth. In prior versions, I've never really understood the oppression the peasants endured under his patronage. Sure, he's been a rat bastard in previous incarnations, but it's never been very convincing. This Sheriff, played by Keith Allen, truly makes me believe that he's the epitome of evil, like Nottingham's version of Hitler. Some examples from his long list of cruelty include cutting out tongues and breaking prisoners' legs. He frequently threatens to execute peoples' family members to coerce them into betraying Robin Hood and the Merry Men. But his evilness is unique because his cruelness is surpassed by vicious cunning. He's not a bumbling moron like many of his predecessors. He knows how to push peoples' buttons and he doesn't hesitate to do it. He is truly the perfect nemesis to Robin.

One of my favorite aspects of this new version of Robin Hood is how Marian is portrayed. In prior versions, she's been essentially a weak female character. As I write this, I keep thinking of Disney's cartoon version with Marian running from the guards yelling, "Robin, help, help!" Other versions are equally guilty of making her helpless and dependent on our hero to save the day. Blech! As a woman, as a feminist, I get tired of that crap. Thankfully, the BBC gave Marian a 21st century attitude. She doesn't automatically run into Robin's arms with gratitude and relief the moment he arrives back in Nottingham. In fact, she gives him quite a lot of hell before she warms up again to him. Eventually, they become lovers as the Robin Hood legend prescribes, but she's not dependent on him. They're equals, with him helping her and her helping him. She also does things that aren't "girly." She knows how to ride horses, fight with swords and knives, shoot a bow, etc. In spite of her considerable skills, the men around her frequently underestimate her, and she uses this to her advantage. This is a Marian with a brain and a considerable amount of brawn. She's definitely not the typical rendition of Robin's lady love.

The other supporting characters, while obviously not as well-developed as Robin, are equally interesting. They're not mindless automatons who blindly take orders. They have real thoughts and emotions, and distinctly unique personalities that I've never seen before in past incarnations. These personalities are new twists on ancient character archetypes. For example, Little John isn't Robin's best friend, and in fact, he doesn't always like his new leader. Robin's best friend is Much, a character mentioned in the earliest written legends but who gradually faded from the literature with time. Much, in this version, is fairly fussy, but he provides nearly all the comic relief of the show. Allan a'Dale is the con-artist who really wants something in return for all his do-gooding. Will Scarlet is the shy, quiet carpenter who gets involved with Robin after being wrongfully condemned to hang. The last familiar face is Tuck, who, in this version is a black warrior priest, a far cry from the drunk we're so familiar with. There have been a couple of female gang members not seen at all in prior versions: Djaq, the Saracen captive Robin rescues, and Kate, the villager who wants revenge for her brother's death. These two, like Marian, are strong women with brains and abilities that surpass their looks.

The show has been off the air for a couple years now, so obviously I'm a little late getting involved with it. But it's definitely worth watching if you can.