In old clocks, a figure which struck the bell to mark the hours.—John Phin's Shakespeare Cyclopædia and New Glossary, 1902
Feast Day of St. Agatha,
a patroness of bell-ringers. The sound of Sunday church bells, while quaint-sounding to most, has long been irritating to others. In his America Revisited (1883), for example, George Augustus Sala carped: "The bell-ringing nuisance is nearly as offensive in England as it is in America, and in both countries the practice is equally needless and wantonly indifferent to the requirements of those who need rest and quiet. Surely a man knows to what religion he belongs, and at what hour the services in his particular place of worship begin. Yet the sexton goes on tugging at his bell as though Christians had altogether lost their memories, and as though there were no clocks and watches in the world. Moreover, how is the churchgoer to discriminate between the different bells when they are all brangling at the same time? Here in Baltimore, a city of 300,000 inhabitants, there are about 200 churches. With the exception of the Quakers meeting-houses, all these churches are provided with bells which boom and brawl from sunrise to sunset, as though they were so many hotel gongs calling guests to theological meals."
If only he had some kind of missile, he could take the steam out of those bells, because there's nothing an agnostic can't do if he really doesn't know if he believes in anything or not.
Eh, that's kind of a weak birthday present. So courtesy of gamera_spinning, I also present to you The Seatbelts performing live.