Finding My Peace…
From the Best of Job, originally published in September 2005.
Of deserts dry / Of cool green valleys
Gold and silver veins / Of the shining cities
In this heartland
I took this photo in the winter of 2003, and I took it for a volley of reasons.
It was the first time I ever relented and bought an ice scraper (visible on the hood of the vehicle). For the longest time I viewed those who owned ice scrapers as faint of heart. As flatlanders.
Second, it was -20 degrees.
Third, I thought gas prices were insanely high and should be documented for posterity.
Ultimately it was a bad morning, and I felt the need to record it to make a rosier time later on seem that much more gilded.
But of course its purpose now is to emphasize how naive I was about gas prices, naive to not realize we had it so good. I thought the apocalypse was nigh because gas dared to go over a buck-fitty. Gas prices are insane, agreed. But I found my peace recently and I wanted to share it with you.
I was shopping at Hannaford the other day and purchased a gallon of Snapple for $3.59.
A gallon of gas costs on average (for me) $3.29. For this gallon of gas to get into my Jeep’s belly, it must first be pumped out of the desert (a full 20,000 miles from me), then be piped for hundreds of miles to a port, where it’s loaded onto a tanker and shipped around the horn of Africa and across the mighty Atlantic to New Jersey. At this juncture it is then refined — not a short or safe process — into usable gasoline. Once cooled, it can be loaded onto trucks and delivered to fuel companies with names we know and trust like Mobil, BP and Exxon, then pumped again into tanks below the ground where it waits to be pumped into our various vehicles.
A series of amazing events, from Ahmed in the deserts of the Rub Al Qali to Tonya at the Jiffy Mart, and it costs me the grand total of $3.29 per gallon to power a six-cylinder Detroit engine over hill and dale for almost 20 miles.
Snapple? Some chick in Atlanta scooped some sugar into a vat and sprayed the hose over it for a few minutes.
I found my peace.
I bought the gas and the Snapple.
Sunday’s Sermon — Point Three
To live as a Christian, we must be loving.
Romans 12:14 says, “Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse.” This is love, self-sacrificing love that wishes the best for others, even those others that mistreat it. The most perfect example of this love was Jesus Christ Himself, who told his disciples in John 15:13-14: “Greater love has no one than this, that He lay down His life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command.” And one verse earlier in the passage he had explained what he meant by that — “This is My commandment, that you love one another.” He modeled this sacrificial love for us, and then specifically told us to do the same.
Another example of the amazing love of God is found in the story of Joseph. Genesis 37 tells the story of how Joseph’s brothers, angry what they saw as his bad attitude and the unfair advantage he had with their father, planned to kill him before throwing him into a pit, and selling him to foreign traders. But even after all this, Joseph was nevertheless elevated to a position of great authority in the kingdom of Egypt, on the strength of his good character and his relationship with God. And it was there in Egypt that he received the opportunity to repay his brothers for the great evil they had done to him.
But instead, in Genesis 45:4-8, he chose to reveal himself to his brothers with forgiveness. “But now, do not be grieved or angry with yourselves because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life. . . God sent me before you to preserve a posterity for you in the earth, and to save your lives by a great deliverance. So now it was you who sent me here, but God; and He has made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house, and a ruler throughout all the land of Egypt.”
This is the deep and powerful love of God, the love he desires each and every one of us as Christians to show other people — the love that can cover over assault, attempted murder, and kidnapping, the love that can choose to forgive and save the lives of those who mistreat us, the love that gives the glory to God for giving us the chance to help ones who hated us.
I pray that God will help us lives of love like that. We must learn how to love.
Ask Bweinh! Poll — Favorite Hymns
Today’s Ask Bweinh! poll is brought to you by the Seabees, today celebrating their 65th anniversary as America’s “contingency construction force of choice,” and their very first day with a real live Bweinh!tributor in their ranks.
| Rank | Hymn | Points | ||
| 1. | It Is Well With My Soul | 15 | ||
| 2-3 (tie) | Be Still My Soul; Be Thou My Vision | 10 | ||
| 4. | Amazing Grace | 7 | ||
| 5. | Oh the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus | 6 | ||
| 6-8 (tie) | How Firm A Foundation; Psalm 23; And Can It Be? | 5 | ||
| 9-13 (tie) | Softly and Tenderly; How Great Thou Art; O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go; Jesus, Lover of My Soul; Praise to the Lord, the Almighty | 4 | ||
| Other | Come Thou Fount; O Come All Ye Faithful; For the Beauty of the Earth; Holy, Holy, Holy; Hymn to Joy; Rock of Ages; Christ the Lord is Risen Today; Lead, Kindly Light; In My Heart There Rings a Melody; Swing Low, Sweet Chariot; Fairest Lord Jesus; God of Concrete, God of Steel | 1-3 |
Joke of the Day, 5/31/07
Once I saw a guy on a bridge about to jump. “Don’t do it!,” I yelled, but he responded, “Nobody loves me.” “God loves you,” I said. “Do you believe in God?” “Yes,” he answered.
“Are you a Christian or a Jew?,” I asked.
“A Christian.”
“Me, too! Protestant or Catholic?”
“Protestant.”
“Hey, me too! What denomination?”
“Baptist.”
“Me, too! Northern Baptist or Southern Baptist?”
“Northern Baptist.”
“Wow, me too! Northern Conservative Baptist or Northern Liberal Baptist?”
“Northern Conservative Baptist.”
“Me, too! Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region, or Northern Conservative Baptist Eastern Region?”
“Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region.”
“Me, too! Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1879, or Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1912?”
“Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1912.”
So I said, “Die, heretic!!!!,” and I pushed him over.
-E. Philips
Sunday’s Sermon — Point Two
How do we live as a Christian? We must be ever-humble. (I had to cheat a little to create my first mnemonic sermon device…I finally succumbed after about ten or fifteen sermons.)
Verse 16 in our text (Romans 12) says to “associate with the humble; do not be wise in your own opinion.”
I graduated from law school this past Sunday, and our class president got up and gave a speech. To be kind, I will tell you her speech was not strong on humility. She said our class had known “for quite a while that our brilliance was blinding,” that our destiny was to “rule the free world,” and that our greatest fear was not that we were inadequate, but that we were “powerful beyond our wildest dreams.” She even stole that from a movie!
These were very interesting sentiments, but frankly, completely false. I looked around at my class, and I took a look in the mirror, and the fact is, most of us are not blindingly brilliant — we’re not even all that bright! Some of us were smart, others were not so smart, but all of us had achieved our degree because of hard work and perseverance, combined with the sacrifice and help of many others in our lives.
But her speech reflects the way of the world, the training we have received to boast in our accomplishments to get a job, a date, a vote. Television is full of people who would like nothing better than the chance to tell you how wonderful they are. But this is not an attractive stance for a follower of Christ, a man who lived a humble and lowly life and called his followers to do the same. If people come to church because of how great you are, they’re going to become disillusioned very quickly — if not by your eventual failures, then when they meet me! Or when they come across any other Christian who is similarly imperfect. Our salvation is only found in Jesus and His sacrifice; this must be our message, not anything to do with us.
There’s another part of ‘associating with the humble,’ and that’s resisting the temptation to believe our trials are somehow more difficult than everyone else’s, or that sinfulness is somehow unusual. You’re not so bad that God cannot change your heart and save your soul! Focusing too much on our weaknesses and flaws, or believing they can ever stop God from accomplishing His work in our lives, is just as much a form of pride as puffing out one’s chest on a stage.
To live like a Christian, we need a balance between the constant knowledge that we are sinful, mortal and imperfect, and the wonderful truth that we are saved, being made holy, and capable of great things in God.
The glory is His; we must constantly remind ourselves to both reflect it from Him, and deflect it to Him.
Battle of the Bands XIII
Last week’s winner was Pharaoh’s Daddy.
Here are the newest proposed band names! The best will move on this Saturday, and next week we will start our Genesis band name playoffs!
Bible Discussion — Genesis 47-50
This week, Bweinh.com looks at the next four chapters of the Bible, Genesis 47-50.
Previously in Genesis:
1-4 | 5-9 | 10-14 | 15-18-2 | 19-22 | 23-26
27-29 | 30-32 | 33-36 | 37-39 | 40-43 | 44-46
INTRODUCTION:
David:
Jacob gathers his children to bless them and prophesy over them. He removes Reuben as firstborn, giving that right to Joseph and splitting the inheritance between Ephraim & Manasseh, and speaks God’s judgment over Simeon and Levi for the murder they had committed.
Mike:
The children of Israel are each given a blessing as Jacob nears death.
Tom:
I look at this passage — particularly Israel’s blessings on the 12 tribes to be — like a cruel fiction writer’s “happily ever after…” before he pulls the rug out from under the reader with another paragraph. In this case, the paragraph is the Israelites’ need for deliverance from their deliverance.
MC-B:
Joseph? Reducing the people to servitude?
And he was doing so well.
SOMETHING YOU’D NEVER NOTICED BEFORE:
Steve:
For a nation that apparently hated shepherds, Egypt wasn’t afraid to use them. Someone had to watch the livestock, after all.
MC-B:
I think I always skipped this part when I read the Joseph story; after all, all the action was done with.
Chloe:
The language of these chapters strongly foreshadows the coming enslavement. People right and left are telling each other that they’ll be their servants or slaves, or telling their sons that they’ll end up as slaves.
Tom:
Beyond the whole “his people surviving the famine” thing, the Pharaoh was much, much better off economically after Joseph.
David:
Jacob instructs them to bury him in the cave of Machpelah with Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Rebekah and Leah. Rachel, his true love, ends up buried under a tree in the wilderness, and his final resting place is with Leah.
Mike:
How Jacob in the end is buried with Leah — his “least favorite” wife is the one whom he chooses to be buried near. I also never noticed that Jacob was embalmed in the manner of Egyptians.
BEST BAND NAME FROM THE PASSAGE:
David: Royal Dainties
MC-B: A Very Large Company
Mike: The Wrath of Levi
Steve: Darker Than Wine
Chloe: Desolate
Tom: Out of Canaan
The Whole Word of God
Last week at an awards ceremony in a university chapel, I sat near a plain square box with a gold Star of David painted on the front. It was a Torah ark. I hadn’t seen one of those in years, not since I had been to a special shul with my mother, during which graduates of a Hebrew class were honored. My mother was a graduate with her friend Damon, a Messianic Jew who sat beside her with a yarmulke covering his mostly bald head. He sang the Hebrew in a strong and liturgical voice and made me wish I knew how to sing the words so I could join in.
The Torah ark at the synagogue I had attended was huge, painted with rich hues and accented in gold filigree. The wood was carved and the metal molded into complex designs that no doubt told a story I would only understand if I were Orthodox like the people around me. Everything in the decorations had meaning because that is how the Jews look at the world. God created the universe; therefore it is imbued with His symbolic meaning. If we unearth this meaning, we draw a little nearer to God.
The rabbi took the Torah out of the ark for the reading. As he carried it from the ark to the bima where it would be read, the members of the synagogue kissed it as it went by. The part of this that struck me as most profound was how reverent everyone was as the rabbi walked by. This was the Word of God passing through their midst, and their quiet demeanor showed that they would not forget that.
In the Jewish tradition, the old scribes who copied the Torah had certain rules that governed their discipline. For example, they would only write the secondary names of God (El, El Shaddai, Elohim, etc.) with a brand new pen, no matter how fresh the first pen had been. And YHWH, the name God used to reveal Himself, was an entirely different matter. “Before they wrote this highest and best name, [the scribes] rose from their seats and went into their personal quarters. They took off their robes, bathed themselves, clothed themselves with new, clean garments, and returned to their work. There they knelt down, confessed their sins, took a new pen, dunked it once into the inkwell, and wrote those four letters.” (Dr. D. James Kennedy)
Quite a few of my Christian friends tend to avoid the Old Testament. Some of the reasons I’ve been given for that decision include that it’s boring history, or that it’s hard to spot God’s grace and mercy through all the gore on David’s sword. Worse, it has been called outdated, the old law that isn’t important anymore and shouldn’t be bothered with — except for the Psalms, of course, and anything to do with Revelation and/or Messianic prophecy.
But I was enthralled with the Old Testament when I read it. I mourned with Leah over her husband’s neglect and yelled at David for not going to war in the spring, when kings were supposed to go to battle, not play peeping tom. I fell in love with the poetry in Job and sobbed when Jonathan died.
Most importantly, I discovered something that is denied by all those excuses for not reading the Old Testament. I discovered, as we’ve seen in our weekly Bible study, that Jesus was and is everywhere, saturating the narrative with His presence and reaffirming His role as the fulfillment of the law.
Quote of the Day, 5/30/07
“You can tell a lot about a fellow’s character by his way of eating jellybeans.” — R. Reagan
Clash of the Titans XXV: Superman v. Spiderman
| In this corner, arguing for Superman, is |
And in this corner, supporting Spiderman, is Josh! | |
|
Honestly, let’s think this one through. A man who wears tight spandex, shoots webs, and has a “spidey sense” that “tingles” is no match for a man who wears tight spandex, shoots laser beams from his eyes, can fly, has super strength, and X-Ray vision. The last son of Krypton, Kal-El, would literally tear Peter Parker a new cephalothorax. For goodness sake, Spiderman doesn’t even wear a cape! And did you even watch Spiderman 3? I just about died laughing when ol’ Pete started crying like a cheerleader with a skinned knee. “Mary Jane! Come back to me! I love you!” Boo hoo hoo. Try having your entire planet explode, then talk to somebody about how much it hurts to lose your loved ones. Superman knows much about teamwork. As a founding member of the Justice League of America, he helped the League defeat giant space starfish Starro the Conqueror, among many other threats to national security. That’s right, nothing quite embodies America like Superman, what with his ongoing fight for Truth, Justice, and the American Way. Superman received his superpowers, not at birth, but by his transportation to our planet. Here, powered by Earth’s Yellow Sun, his latent abilities as a Kryptonian become useful. Josh, perhaps you’ve been bitten by one bug too many. If you’re waiting for those cockroaches to transform you into UltraRoach, or whatever you’re hoping, perhaps you should volunteer for the next trip to Beta Centauri. Perhaps the light of the Blue-White giant will enhance your ability to live for a month without your head. Let’s find out. Unless your spidey sense is tingling. In which case, I’ll let you outside. Just don’t tingle on the carpet again. |
I lost the ability to take Superman seriously around the time that Five for Fighting released that terrible song, whining about how much it sucks to be able to fly. I’m sure the song made a lot of money; it couldn’t possibly have been on the radio more often. But for me, it had the unintended consequence of cementing Superman’s status as the boring hero. He has no flaws. Since there’s nothing he can’t do, there can be no true drama. The only question in every single battle is whether the villain remembered to pack Kryptonite. How many times can we see that same story? And trust me — I wear glasses. When I take them off, people still recognize me, even if I comb my hair. Spiderman is the people’s champion. He’s one of us, thrust into the position of being a hero. He has an enviable set of powers — he can climb walls, jump great distances and has increased strength and balance, not to mention his Spidey sense. But he still has enough shortcomings to provide intrigue and require some brainwork, or even teamwork, to defeat his villains. He has to put in work to develop his skill and augment his arsenal. Spiderman has a brilliant and concealing costume and is perhaps the wittiest of all superheroes. It’s also a far more credible proposition that I could one day be Spiderman. I’ve never been to another planet, but I’ve been bitten by plenty of bugs. My favorite part about Spiderman is his motto — “with great power comes great responsibility.” Put another way, you might say that from those to whom much has been given, much will be required. Spiderman learned the same lesson I had hammered into me growing up. I’m not here to jump over buildings, race bullets, or arm-wrestle trains. I’m just here to do my part to save the world. |
Sunday’s Sermon — Point One
How do we live like a Christian? We must be holy.
Verse 9 here in Romans 12 says, “Love must be sincere. Abhor what is evil, cling to what is good.” And if you look at what these verbs mean, it helps to elaborate on the meaning of the verse. “Abhor” isn’t a word you hear a lot these days, but it’s a powerful one — it reveals a passionate sort of hatred, a visceral disgust, sort of the way I feel about mushrooms, for instance. If you put mushrooms in my food, I will react with that sort of loathing; I abhor mushrooms. And that’s how we are supposed to react to evil.
On the contrary, that word “cling to” is the reverse, the same passion sent the other direction. Imagine a baby being held by her mother; if you try to take that baby away, she won’t fully understand what’s happening, but she will passionately hold on to her mother. She will cling to what she knows and loves — as we should. To whatsoever is good.
There is a constant battle in our lives between these desires; Paul wrote about it earlier in the book of Romans, in 7:21. The song I just sang mentions it in the last line — “I am full of earth, and dirt, and You.” But there’s another aspect to this tension, and it’s mentioned in Galatians 5:13-14: “For you, brethren, have been called to liberty; only do not use liberty as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. For all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.'”
“Flesh” is “sarx” in the Greek, which simply means “flesh,” meat, the sinew and muscle of the human body. This shows us the biggest problem isn’t Satan, or anyone else, or some shadowy outside force; it’s us, ourselves, from the day we’re born, bent toward sin.
And what is juxtaposed against the “flesh” here? Love, through service to others. The flesh wants to fulfill its own desires; love prefers others above itself. The best way to fight the battle against the flesh is not to sit around and think about how bad we are. It’s not to look for an answer in our mind, or rationalize and explain away our sin. The best way, we’re taught here, to become holy and truly fulfill the law is to SERVE, to love our neighbors in a selfless way that shifts the focus from ourselves and returns it to the outside world. And that’s where it needs to be, centered on the people who desperately need to witness the love of Jesus Christ, put into practice by disciples living a holy life of love through service.
The less we focus on ourselves, the easier it is to correctly orient that passion, fleeing from evil and clinging to good. Christians must live holy lives to have the work of God’s grace manifest in us.
Joke of the Day, 5/29/07
A man walked into a bar. “Bartender, get me a beer, and quick — before the trouble starts!”
The bartender complied, and the man downed it in seconds. “Another beer, please! Before the trouble starts!”
Again the bartender gave him a beer, and again it disappeared in record time. “I need one more — now, before the trouble starts!”
He got the beer, but at this point, the bartender’s curiosity was piqued. “So when’s this trouble going to start anyway?”
The man finished drinking and answered, “Right about the time you find out I got no money.”
Sunday’s Sermon — Introduction
I had the opportunity to preach at the Black River Bay campground this past Sunday, opening this summer’s series of services there. I’m going to (very) loosely adapt it into a series of five articles, with one to run each day this week.
Directions are very important.
This past week, I attended a wedding. It was a very nice wedding, with the classic ending, the whole “man and wife” bit and the bride-kissing. But we learned at the very end of the ceremony that because of a closed highway exit, the original directions to the reception would no longer work. And so on the way out of the church, we were handed a new, corrected sheet of directions.
Chloe and I set off, and when we got to the area where we needed to consult the directions, we obeyed them to the letter. “Turn left on Rt. 16,” they informed us, and after about 1/4 of a mile, we would find our next turn, at a “T-intersection.”
And so I turned left, and I drove a quarter-mile. There was no such intersection. “Maybe they meant 1 mile,” I thought. A mile later, there was no such intersection. “Perhaps it was 4 miles?” Nothing. Of course we had to turn around, and when we returned to the site of that fateful left turn, we realized the directions had been completely wrong. Turning right was what had been necessary to get us to the reception. Everything else in the directions was correct, but that one simple error — ‘left’ instead of ‘right’ — made the rest of it moot. Starting off in the wrong direction made it impossible to reach our goal.
It’s the same way with living the Christian life. The text I’m using is Romans 12, and in my Bible, the heading for the section is “Live Like A Christian.” And what follows in the chapter are a series of directions for successfully navigating life as a Christian, with the goal described in verse 21: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” To reach that conclusion, Paul gives us several important directions, and applied to our lives, they’re each as important as that left turn I made on the way to the reception. If we get off in the wrong direction in these parts of our lives, growth as a Christian will be almost impossible.
So what are these directions so key to life as a Christian? I’m going to share four of the key elements of the Christian life that Paul identifies, and to help you remember them, I’ll even use one of those fun mnemonic devices the kids like so much!
And they’ll start…tomorrow!
The Council’s Ruling — Best Invention
This and every Monday, the Bweinh!tributors, having convened in secret for hours of reasoned debate and consideration, will issue a brief and binding ruling on an issue of great societal import.
This week’s question — What is the best invention of all time?
The council could not issue a majority ruling on this issue.
Tom offers this opinion, joined by Steve and MC-B:
Without a doubt the printing press impacted the world in the greatest way. It was the first real venue for the shared experiences vital to the nationalism which forged the modern world.
Chloe offers this opinion, joined by Mike and Goober:
The written word. Where would Bweinh! be without it?
Josh offers this opinion, joined by Job:
The invention with the greatest impact is the television. By letting us see the world, it has changed the way we see the world.
Djere offers this opinion:
The number zero. Without it, none of our modern engineering advances would be possible. Most other inventions would be uninvented without zero.
Next week: the country we would choose to live as expatriates!
Ask Bweinh! Poll — Mythical Creatures
Today’s Ask Bweinh! poll is brought to you by Memorial Day, the most meaningful secular holiday in America.
“Because of what Memorial Day represents, the rest of the days of the year are our holidays.”
| Rank | Creature | Points | ||
| 1. | Cerberus | 13 (2) | ||
| 2. | Chupacabra | 13 (1) | ||
| 3. | Wumpus | 11 | ||
| 4-7 (tie) | Hobbit, Leviathan, “Rational Woman,” Pan | 5 | ||
| 8-12 (tie) | Elf, Phoenix, Cthulhu, Golem, Chicken Cow | 4 | ||
| Other | Dwarf, Grendel, Zombie, Loch Ness Monster, Griffin, Pegasus, Vampire, Jackalope, “Yankees Closer,” Quetzalcoatl, Manticore, Medusa, Pollux | 1-3 |
Quote of the Day, 5/28/07
“It is not only the living who are killed in war.” — I. Asimov
Bweinh! Soundtrack — Barenaked Ladies
Every weekend, a different Bweinh!tributor will discuss a song or songwriter that inspires or interests them. Read the first eight soundtrack entries here.
I’ll admit it. I was introduced to the music of the Barenaked Ladies by that New York lotto commercial where average people (just like you and me!) sing about what they’d do if they had a million dollars. Buying cars, houses, and just being rich. At the time, my father had the largest music collection of anyone I knew, and he was very familiar with the group that had written and performed the song originally. He introduced me to the full version, which was not only about cars and houses but also about Kraft dinner and pre-wrapped sausages.
From that first listen, I was hooked. Sure, the version in the commercial was nice to listen to, but the things that average, boring people were singing their hearts out about buying with their winnings were average, boring things. The full version was much more fun, and told a story about the potential use of vast amounts of wealth that I could relate to during my youth, namely squandering it on “the fanciest Dijon ketchups.” It even had a pun in it.
In a broader sense, I suppose that’s why BNL is near the top of my list of preferred artists. Their music isn’t so dense and esoteric that I can’t relate to it, but it also still sounds as though the group actually enjoys writing and singing it. In a word, it’s fun. (The full text of this article was originally going to be one sentence about how much fun BNL is, but we in the stable of Bweinh!tributors are paid by the word, or so I’m told.) Sure, some of their music slithers its way into Lotto and car commercials, but it still doesn’t sound anything like another boy band trying to churn out another hit single about how its collective girlfriend left forever to be with someone new. Sniff, sniff.
For one quick example, take “Be My Yoko Ono.” In the words of Wikipedia, “in the song the narrator explains that he would be willing to give up everything to be with the person he loves by comparing their relationship to the one between Yoko Ono and John Lennon.” Certainly unique, and enjoyable enough to merit a listen. Barenaked Ladies: still one of the best things ever to come out of Canada.
Dot What?
On this, the day before his brother’s wedding, we present a post from the Best of Josh, originally published on November 2, 2006.
The other day I met a charming young lady who needed some information from me. She gave me her email address which ended with @pmusa.com. I had never seen that particular suffix before, and I was curious, so I asked.
“Phillip Morris. I work for Marlboro.”
Whoa.
“Yeah, we’re not the most popular company right now.”
Now let me be clear about a few things here. First off, I think smoking is terrible, for all the obvious reasons. And I could never work for a such a company because I wouldn’t be able to reconcile this with my convictions.
Having said that, I think the lawsuits against these companies are laughable. I also don’t think people who work for these companies are any more morally responsible than the corner store clerk that sells the cigarrettes, and we don’t vilify them.
But the fact remains that these companies have taken a huge PR hit. There are some pretty aggressive ad campaigns with them in the crosshairs (although I really enjoy the Phillip Morris-produced anti-tobacco ads. They’re almost as funny as the comercials that come on during televised poker where some casino guy tells you, “There are some times when you shouldn’t gamble.” Yeah, right.). The executives have been portrayed as outright murderous pariahs, and justifiably so in many cases.
I don’t say all this to bash the woman in question. She seems like a nice enough person. I’m just saying that if I had to give my email to a total stranger for non-work related matters, I think I would have a back-up. Something that didn’t sound like josh@Ikillpeople.com.
“Hey Dave!”
Today I’ve taken over the Dear Abby advice column and I’m going to answer a little of her mail.
Dear Abby Hey Dave:
I am a 27-year-old stay-at-home mom with three kids and I need help. I’m a very depressed person and have been for many years. I shop excessively and spend way too much, and I don’t know how to stop. Shopping makes me feel happy, so when I’m depressed (which is often), I go shopping for stuff I don’t even need. I feel horrible! My husband and I have tried separate bank accounts, but when I run low, I just tap right into his. Please help me! I don’t know what to do.
Spend-a-holic in Ventura
Dear Spend-a-holic:
Wow…where were you when I was selling cars for a living?
Dear Abby Hey Dave:
I have a 4-year-old who tends to act up from time to time. I’ve tried “timeouts,” soft spanking and have taken his privileges away, but nothing seems to work. I have found that smashing one of his small toys with a hammer works well. Do you see any damage in this sort of punishment?
Young Mom in Oklahoma
Dear Thor:
You make quite a leap there in your punitive responses. “Time out… a soft spanking… NOW I’M SMASHING YOUR TOYS WITH A HAMMER!!! DO YOU LIKE THAT??”
Have you thought of running for president? “I sent a protest letter to Iran, then I tried some economic sanctions… NOW I’M NUKING SMALL CITIES!!! HA HA HA HA HA!!! AND IT SEEMS TO BE WORKING!!!”
Dear Abby Hey Dave:
My husband and I feel terrible. Our dog just killed our neighbor’s young turkey. We saw “Tuffy” running away, dragging the bird in his mouth. Needless to say, Tuffy will never be allowed off his leash outside anymore, but what is the proper way to make this up to the farmer?
Embarrassed in Liberty
Dear Embarrassed:
Simply invite them over for Thanksgiving and serve Tuffy. That should even things up a little!
Joke of the Day, 5/25/07
Two aging Catholic priests went to the Vatican for the first time, to visit the great library of church documents. Because they were great scholars, they were given access to the oldest text in the city, dating from the inauguration of the rite of priestly ordination.
One of the priests had an appointment to meet with a cardinal, and when he returned to the room where they had been working, he found his counterpart weeping bitterly.
“What is the matter?”
“This text — our monks have copied it faithfully by hand for years, correct?”
“Why yes, that is true.”
“Might there have been some small error made along the way??”
“Perhaps — we are but human.”
“So is it not possible that one minor mistake, made thousands of years ago, may have been copied, over and over again, ever since???”
“I suppose that could be. But why do you ask?”
Weeping again, the scholar thrust the ancient text toward his friend.
“It says cel-EBRATE!”
The Greatest Humanitarian?
Last Friday I went to the movies with my girlfriend (and sister to several of my fellow Bweinh!tributors) Rose to see Shrek 3. The movie was alright, certainly not as good as either of its predecessors, but it is not the movie itself with which I am concerned. Instead, it was the ticket-buying process.
I was just returning from a trip to Basileia, InterVarsity Christian Fellowship NY/NJ’s biggest throwdown of the year, and feeling generous when the lady at the ticket counter asked me if I wanted to donate a dollar to some organization whose name I can’t remember. When I asked her what the organization did, she said that it had something to do with heart disease. I assumed they took the “anti” side and assented.
Of course, this put me into the dire predicament of having to sign my name on a star to put onto the wall near the ticket counter. I was fairly certain that no one ever, EVER read the names on the wall; still, it seemed tacky to put only my name on the star, but it seemed equally so to put both our names on it as though we could only come up with a dollar between us to fight the evils of heart disease.
Another person working the other side of the ticket counter piped up and said that I should sign “Batman.” I think I must’ve given her a funny look because she went on to explain that people often sign with superhero names, with Batman and the X-Men making frequent appearances. I thought it was an interesting tradition, but I thought it was too obvious for superheroes to take a stand against suffering. It’s practically in the job description. The next minute or so was devoted to thinking up ideas for my signature (it was a slow period at the counter).
Suddenly, one of us stumbled upon it. A name so controversial that I recommend a new Clash of the Titans right here and now to resolve the greatest debate of our time:
Robert Goulet: The Greatest Humanitarian?
I Love This Bar
This post fulfills a promise I made on May 12, 2004.
I talked to a few million people a few years ago. It was on the radio, the Rush Limbaugh Show, actually, and I had called to argue with the host about the meaning of Robert Putnam’s Bowling Alone. He thought the author was interested in some ludicrous governmental solution to the problem of decreased activity in civil society, such as bowling leagues, voluntary associations, and churches.
I told him I thought it was much more of a (small-r) republican book, calling for a return to the America de Tocqueville wrote about, the one where people banded together in churches and associations and did good for each other, meeting their needs for social interaction at the same time they benefited the community.
I was right, and he said so.
But regardless of what Putnam meant, the problem remains. Voluntary social and charitable associations like the Lions Club, the Masons, and the American Legion continue to get grayer and grayer. Many old-line denominational churches have seen dramatic dropoffs in attendance, possibly because much of their ‘ministry’ consisted only in providing a place for ancients to meet, greet, and eat.
As Rush and I agreed, the Internet and cell phones (not to mention the iPod) are making it easier and easier to live a totally compartmentalized life, where interaction with others can be carefully limited and even planned, taking place on one’s own terms rather than as part of the collision and chaos of real life.
There are some exceptions in the culture at large. Certain churches, which combine a real and worshipful devotion for God with a desire to live in authentic community and engage the outside world, have grown and grown in attendance as secular groups have faltered.
And people still go to bars.
Toby Keith had a hit in 2003 with I Love This Bar, a song about a place with ‘winners,’ ‘losers,’ ‘bikers,’ ‘suckers,’ ‘broken-hearted fools’ and ‘yuppies’ — all identified in only the first two verses!
The chorus reads like a sociological case study, although written on a 3rd-grade level:
I love this bar. It’s my kind of place.
Just walkin’ through the front door puts a big smile on my face.
It ain’t too far. Come as you are.
Hmm, hmm, hmm, I love this bar.
Keith’s bar is precisely HALF of what America wants and needs from its civil organizations. A place where everyone is safe and accepted, where lines of class and race are ignored, where anyone can legitimately feel at home. But the feeling of community in even the most congenial neighborhood tavern exists because of the desire for profit. And although the bonds forged over a Heineken may be no less strong than those forged on a Habitat for Humanity site, it’s important to remember the other half of our civil society, the selfless half.
Humans are social creatures, but proper civil society should and must harness that sociability to benefit more than just ourselves. The occasional spaghetti dinner to benefit a cancer patient is something. But in comparison to a sadly shriveling organization like the Shriners, who have devoted themselves to the care of sick children, it seems not nearly enough.
Tocqueville his own self wrote, “Two things in America are astonishing: the changeableness of most human behavior and the strange stability of certain principles. Men are constantly on the move, but the spirit of humanity seems almost unmoved.”
Perhaps the problem with America is not that we no longer engage in the typical and stable principles of civil and social behavior, but that we seem unable to do so anymore without alcohol — depressant, social lubricant and lowerer of inhibitions. Even a bar as wonderful as the one in Toby Keith’s imagination can never replicate real, authentic community.
Ask Bweinh! Poll — Animals
Today’s Ask Bweinh! poll is sponsored by a dear friend of the site: Cerberus, the three-headed hell hound! 
| Rank | Animal | Points | ||
| 1. | Dog | 27 | ||
| 2. | Cat | 13 | ||
| 3-7 (tie) | Lemur, Fox, Lion, Capybara, Ants | 5 | ||
| 8-13 (tie) | Squirrel, the Wallaby, Platypus, Armadillo, Gnu, Zebra | 4 | ||
| Other | Cow, Mouse, Chimpanzee, Salmon, Rhodesian Ridgeback Ferret, Elephant, Goat, Cougar, Rabbit, Tiger, Monkey, Duck, Bear, Sasquatch, Parrot, Gibbon, Beetles, Seagull, Chicken Cow, Sharks (with Laser Beams), Honeybee | 1-3 |
Quote of the Day, 5/24/07
“War is like love; it always finds a way.” – B. Brecht
Battle of the Bands XII
Last week’s winners: Just as Ugly and Five Times Benjamin.
Here are the newest proposed band names! The best will move on this Saturday.
Bible Discussion — Genesis 44-46
This week, Bweinh.com looks at the next three chapters of the Bible, Genesis 44-46.
Previously in Genesis:
1-4 | 5-9 | 10-14 | 15-18-2 | 19-22 | 23-26
27-29 | 30-32 | 33-36 | 37-39 | 40-43
INTRODUCTION:
Steve:
One of my least favorite tactics in weekly sitcoms was the pivotal “To Be Continued” episode. Even in the most formulaic of comedies, when even a ten-year-old knew precisely how the dilemma would eventually be resolved, there was always that moment of regret and horror when it became clear you would have to wait SEVEN more days for the ending.
Well, here’s that ending, and this time, it was well worth the wait.
David:
In this section Joseph is reunited with his brethren and his father, and they move into Egypt to fulfill the prophecy that they would be enslaved for 400 years before a deliverer would arise.
SOMETHING YOU’D NEVER NOTICED BEFORE:
Steve:
Judah didn’t lie to Joseph when he explained the family history — Joseph did go out from him, he really did SAY, “Surely he is torn to pieces,” and he truly believed he had never seen him since. Perhaps this technical truthfulness was connected to the role he believed God would play in the decision about the theft of the silver cup.
Josh:
When Jacob agreed to go down to Egypt, neither he nor anyone with him had any idea how exactly to get where they were actually going. Who says men won’t ask for directions?
MC-B:
I never realized how extensively detailed the list of the people who went to Egypt was.
BEST BAND NAME FROM THE PASSAGE:
MC-B: The Sons of Gad
Chloe: Closely Bound, Directions to Goshen
Steve, Josh: Loaded Donkey
Josh: Pharaoh’s Daddy
David: Muppim, Huppim and Ard
Job: Boyhood On
Francis Bacon
I read a few essays by Francis Bacon last year, and while revisiting some notes I took on them, I found some of my favorite quotes. I hope they convince you to read Bacon’s essays, since his brilliant philosophy and theology has influenced so much of how we think today.
They that deny a God, destroy man’s nobility; for certainly man is of kin to the beasts, by his body; and if he be not of kin to God, by his spirit, he is a base and ignoble creature.
God never wrought miracles, to convince atheism, because his ordinary works convince it. It is true, that a little philosophy inclineth man’s mind to atheism; but depth in philosophy bringeth men’s minds about to religion.
The first creature of God, in the works of the days, was the light of the senses, the last, was the light of reason; and his Sabbath work ever since, is the illumination of his Spirit. First he breathed light, upon the face of the matter or chaos; then he breathed light into the face of man; and still he breatheth an inspired light, into the faces of his chosen.
Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man.
Read not to contradict and refute; nor to believe and take for granted; nor to find talk and discourse; but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously [i.e., with great care]; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention.
Joke of the Day, 5/23/07
From the “Real Conversations I Have Had” Archive
“Don’t misunderstand me, they’re both definitely dogs. It’s just that Pluto is more of a dog…”
“WHAT?? They’re both equally canine! How can you say that one is more dog than the other?”
“Well Goofy is just…less…of a dog. He’s kinda humanoid. He has human emotions. Drive and ambition. He’s not as, as, as dogish.”
“You kidding me?! You’re just being uppity. You’re saying that because Pluto is owned by a mouse, it makes him more of a dog…”
“See there? You just proved my point, son. He is owned. That makes him all dog. No one has to let Goofy out. No one has to roll up a newspaper and paddle him when he drags his rear along the carpet. Don’t roll your eyes at me! Goofy pees standing up! When you ask Goofy to speak he doesn’t bark twice and expect a biscuit; Goofy clears his throat and gives nothing short of a dissertation on any range of subjects!! He – is – less – of – a – dog!”
“NO!! A dingo is less of a dog than a cocker spaniel, granted. But it’s possible Goofy and Pluto are the same species! They could even have the same floppy-eared mother!!! Goofy has just climbed the social ladder with greater speed and efficiency than Pluto. Goofy has been a ‘good boy.’ What I think you fail to see here is that Goofy isn’t less than a dog…he has just also become more. He has evolved into something that is, at the same time, all dog and mostly man.”
“No, my friend. He may not be a planet anymore, but Pluto is all dog.”
Clash of the Titans XXIV: Wal*Mart
| In this corner, arguing for Wal*Mart, is MC-B! | And in this corner, arguing against Wal*Mart, is Chloe! | |
|
I’m not a huge fan of Wal*Mart. When I go there, it’s crowded, I often can’t find what I’m looking for, and customer service is subpar. Their business practices aren’t beyond reproach either. But for all their failings, Wal*Mart is a very good thing for America and many, many people. The arguments in favor of Wal*Mart are straightforward: the corporation makes a great deal of money for its shareholders, while employing many and providing consumer goods at rock-bottom prices to those who may not otherwise be able to afford them. But do these benefits offset Wal*Mart’s drawbacks? The first common criticism is that Wal*Mart shuts down small businesses. Most of the evidence of this phenomenon is anecdotal at best, but even if it really is significant, I question its importance. Most people choose to buy at Wal*Mart because of the prices, and because they see (rightfully so!) that there is nothing inherently more valuable or moral about a local sole proprietorship compared to a global corporation. But don’t Wal*Mart’s employees have a right to unionize or get health insurance through their employer? At most other firms, the answer is a resounding “No!” Most low-wage service jobs, regardless of source, are unlikely to merit affordable health insurance or company-blessed unionization. Wal*Mart provides employees and stockholders with a choice, and the fact that people keep choosing Wal*Mart proves it’s better than some of the alternatives. Finally, what about global sweatshop labor? Even here a choice is involved. Globalized agribusiness has made traditional farming unprofitable for many, and after a community is thus devastated, Wal*Mart enters it with promises of a reliable wage. Who wouldn’t jump at the chance? It’s a terrible situation, but it’s hard to say Wal*Mart is morally reprehensible; at worst, they are opportunistic, profiting from the evil globalization has wrought for many indigenous farmers. Wal*Mart is simply an organization that’s taken the rules they’ve been given and followed them well; they’re on top because they’ve got a good formula. They should not be penalized or demonized, but rewarded as the system demands — if we want to change the rules by which Wal*Mart plays, it must spring from us (consumers and workers), not from inside corporate administration itself. |
Can you live on $6 an hour? In a 35-hour job (since most jobs that pay that much don’t allow for anything more than part-time), you would make just under $11,000 before taxes, FICA, Worker’s Comp and health insurance. Before rent, the electricity bill, gas prices or bus fare. Before daycare, the daughter’s new shoes, and the son’s asthma medicine. One of the strongest arguments for Wal*Mart is that it creates jobs, thus boosting the economy of an area. It’s true, Wal*Mart boasts 1 million workers nationwide. However, Wal*Mart’s wages are only enough to sustain teenagers and college students. The most pessimistic wage for a regular Wal*Mart employee is $8700 a year; the most optimistic is $15,600 net pay, with no vacation time whatsoever. The U.S. Census Bureau reported in 2004 that “the average poverty threshold for a family of four in 2003 was $18,810; for a family of three, $14,680; for a family of two, $12,015; and for unrelated individuals, $9,393.” Let’s be realistic. Who needs the jobs in the economically depressed areas Wal*Mart is fabled to help? Not teenagers and college students, but those with families, or the people over 25 trying to support themselves. Have you, assuming you are a single twentysomething, tried to live on $12,000 (my own calculated mean Wal*Mart salary) before expenses? Let’s say you have a child, since it’s safe to assume some percentage of twenty-somethings working at Wal*Mart have at least one. You’re at the poverty line. Let’s say you have a bum boyfriend or girlfriend. Now you’ve made it under by a good $2,500. So what are you going to do when you can’t pay the bills or feed the kids? You’re going to go on welfare, and welfare is paid for by everyone else’s taxes. Since you can’t afford Wal*Mart’s health care plan, which is only catastrophic coverage (and you’d be paying 35% of it anyway), you won’t be covered. If you’re over 19 and under 65, you will not be on state-provided health insurance either. You’ll just have to get sick and get over it, or let creditors ruin your credit and the hospital absorb the loss. Your one or two previously mentioned children will receive the school’s insurance, which is once again paid for by taxes. But let’s not forget the core of the argument. Wal*Mart ‘helps’ the economy. |
Quote of the Day, 5/22/07
“No one is so thoroughly superstitious as the godless man.” — H.B. Stowe
Miracle of Life Gone Awry
Lawn and woodland creatures all over Maxon Corners are expressing shock and dismay over the disappearance of Mother Robin and the death of her four young chicks. The chicks were just 8 days old.
“I swooped over the deck early this morning, you know, just to forage by the rose bushes,” said Jason A. Finch, 2. “It seemed too quiet. So I checked the Robin nest… and they were all dead.”
Woodland police say they suspect foul play, but they have no solid leads.
When questioned by this reporter, the orange stray tabby living in the cellar denied killing Mother Robin.
“Don’t you think that if — and that’s a really big if — I killed Mother Robin, I would have eaten her four helpless, tender, juicy, delicious chicks? But instead, there they are, just lying in the nest, going to waste. That’s not my style,” he said.
Police have also questioned the Red-tailed Hawk, but he could not be reached for comment as of publication.
Funeral arrangements will be provided by Maxon Landscaping, and burial will be in the garden.
The Council’s Ruling — Best Time of Day
This and every Monday, the Bweinh!tributors, having convened in secret for hours of reasoned debate and consideration, will issue a brief and binding ruling on an issue of great societal import.
This week’s question — What is the best time of the day?
Djere delivers the ruling of the council, joined by Chloe, Steve, and David:
The best time of day is late summer afternoon into evening. The air is crisp and clear, and the leaves still rustle in the breeze. The orange hues of the sunset cast deep shadows across the lawn, but shed enough light to play or run or walk or relax by.
Josh also concurs in the judgment, joined by Tom:
The best time of day is early evening, after the heat and toil of the day but while daylight still lingers.
Job also concurs in the judgment:
The best time of the day is the late afternoon; it’s warm, but not too warm, and there’s still time to have fun.
MC-B dissents:
The best time of the day is 2 in the afternoon; the day is still young, but you can get lots of work done by then.
Mike played no part in the determination of this issue.
Next week: the best invention of all time!
Ask Bweinh! Poll — Months of the Year
This week’s polls could be sponsored by YOU! For as little as a $1000 donation, your corporation, family or 501(c)(3) non-profit organization could have your name and tagline here for the world to see, plus a free tote bag! Call now!
Our favorite months of the year…
| Rank | Month | Points | ||
| 1. | May | 26 | ||
| 2. | December | 23 | ||
| 3. | July | 17 | ||
| 4. | September | 14 | ||
| 5. | June | 13 | ||
| 6. | August | 11 | ||
| 7. | April | 9 | ||
| 8. | October | 8 | ||
| 9-10 (tie) | November, January | 5 | ||
| Other | February, March | 1-3 |
Joke of the Day, 5/21/07
A woman was leaving a convenience store one afternoon when she noticed an odd funeral procession. There was a hearse, followed by another about 50 feet behind. Behind the second hearse was a solitary woman, dressed in black, walking a German shepherd on a leash. And behind her, a short distance back, were about 200 women, walking single-file.
The first woman respectfully approached the one walking the dog and said, “I’m so sorry for your loss, and I don’t mean to disturb you, but I’ve never seen a funeral like this. What happened?”
“My husband died,” the woman in black replied.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!!”
“Yes,” she said, “my dog attacked and killed him.”
“Oh…well, who is in the second hearse?”
The woman answered, “My mother-in-law. She was trying to help my husband when the dog turned on her.”
“Ah.” The first woman turned to walk away, but then thought for a second. “Do you think… that maybe I could… possibly borrow the dog?”
The woman in black smiled wryly and pointed. “Get in line.”
Bweinh! Goes to Boot Camp
For the months of June and July, Bweinh.com will be running a live 9-part series on life in Navy Boot Camp. These essays will be written from the US Navy’s Recruit Training Command as training progresses, and will focus on the practical and trivial aspects, while also highlighting the trials and joys of being salt and light — a Christian serving in our nation’s military.
So be sure to tune in and enjoy my struggles with me!
Bweinh! Soundtrack — Aaron Sprinkle
Every weekend, a different Bweinh!tributor will discuss a song or songwriter that inspires or interests them. Read the first seven soundtrack entries here.
I still remember the day during my freshman year that one of my roommates, Erin, burst into the room giggling with a CD in her hand. “Look, look at this guy’s name!” Robin (my other roommate) and I examined the CD. It was Lackluster by Aaron Sprinkle, and it had a big brown fish on its powder blue cover.
“Sprinkle?” I said. “That’s unfortunate. You would think he would change his name to sell more records.”
Erin giggled some more and nodded. “It was only five dollars at the Campus Store, so I had to get it.” She put the CD in, placing it in the annals of roomie history and forever cementing in our hearts a love for Aaron Sprinkle. This man with a ridiculous name was good. He reminded me of Elliott Smith, minus the emo lyrics and eventual suicide. Sprinkle is happy, and even “Colorblind” (a song to an ex-girlfriend who left him, took everything and ruined his reputation) features a friendly harmonica and an upbeat tempo.
My roommates and I fell in love with him. On the first night of snow, which both Robin and Erin considered my first real snow, Erin turned on “Sweeter than Me,” a soft, meandering song about an elderly woman losing her mind. It was a perfect first snow, staring out the window with two dear friends and listening to “You’re much sweeter than me by far:” Perhaps what was even better about Aaron Sprinkle was that he was the only artist we were aware of who would sing a song about someone suffering with Alzheimer’s.
We later learned that Sprinkle, currently employed with Tooth and Nail Records as a record producer, not only sang and played guitar for his album, but also did much of the bass, keyboards, programming, percussion, mixing and production.
Talented doesn’t quite seem to capture him.
My Best Teacher
It seems a bit strange to think of him as my best teacher. There were certainly times when his style left me cringing. But in a way, coming through our clashes in style with my affection for his teaching still intact, is what confirms for me that he was my best.
He taught me freshman high school geometry, and he was certainly brilliant, and a bit eccentric. We walked in the first day to be greeted by a video camera. We each took our place, one at a time, front and center, said our first and last names, and he called out a row and seat from his memorized seating chart.
When my turn came, I dutifully called out, “Joshua Jones.”
“Joshua Douglas Jones?”
“Yeah.” I was puzzled. How many Josh Joneses were in this class anyway?
It turned out he just really liked my middle name, and rarely referred to me by any moniker that didn’t include some version of it. Joshua Douglas, Mr. Douglas, even J.D. Jones. It’s the kind of thing that in high school will simultaneously embarrass you and endear someone to you.
More importantly, he was a man with a passion for teaching that came through in everything he did. He was the teacher who used any object lesson or memory device, no matter how goofy. He would stretch you by making you figure things out rather than just telling you all the answers. He gave plenty of extra credit, for everything from solving the toughest problem first to memorizing pi to 100 places — even for bringing in comic strips referring to geometric properties. One time he brought in a box of donuts and gave them out, one by one, to the students who correctly solved that day’s class problems quickest. As someone who possesses both a quickness in problem solving and a strong love of donuts, this was my ideal form of education.
There was only one real problem — the man believed very strongly in homework, at least an hour’s worth per night. I, on the other hand, would eventually be labeled by him as “philosophically opposed” to it. That may have given my ninth grade ideology a bit too much credit, but the fact remained: I didn’t do most of the assignments. This would have posed a problem, except I was absolutely killing all his tests and quizzes, including those of the pop variety that occurred at least a couple times per week. I wasn’t unprepared for class, or failing to learn — I just prepared and learned in my own quicker, more efficient manner.
And so, eventually, as an educator, this posed a problem for him.
For a while he tried to break me, assigning quiz values to random homework assignments. I figured out a way to anticipate the most likely culprits, ensuring those were done. Then he tried to get me to come in after school before my bus arrived to do the assignments before going home. I found reasons to be unavailable. The only thing I truly feared was public humiliation in front of my classmates, but he was too good a man to apply anything more than the gentlest of pressures in the class setting, despite my unlucky seat directly beneath his lecturing perch.
As the year progressed and I continued to outperform most of my fellow students in class while ignoring most of his assignments out of class, he began to soften. Finally, one day another teacher came in and he asked her in front of the class, “Is there a point to forcing a student to do homework assignments if they can learn the material without it? What is the purpose of homework?”
I don’t remember her answer. I don’t think he even really wanted one. I knew he was talking to me.
I got through the year, grades intact. The next year his homework policy was changed to allow students to turn in their assignments with items omitted if the students deemed them redundant or unnecessary.
If I’ve had one problem with institutional education, it’s been that too many people, students and teachers alike, forget that the point of the whole exercise is learning. He didn’t. He let me learn to my full ability.
I never really thanked him.
Clash of the Titans XXIII: Wikipedia
| In this corner, arguing for Wikipedia, is Mike J! | And in this corner, arguing against citing Wikipedia, is Steve! | |
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Let’s be honest and first admit that Wikipedia has its shortfalls. The accuracy of many articles is a concern, and it the format also has difficulty when the facts about a person are beyond question, but open to several different interpretations. My dissertation will be on revival evangelist Charles G. Finney. His Wikipedia entry has a tag warning that the information provided may not be neutral. Why? The biographical facts of Finney’s life are unquestioned, and much of his writings survive. But Finney is a controversial character because people are not sure how to interpret his legacy. Was he a Calvinist? Was he not? Did he save American Christianity or kill it? Were his methods of evangelism a consistent mechanism for the Holy Spirit’s act or a clever substitute for the Spirit? Everyone who thinks about Finney has a stake in the answers to those questions and so his Wikipedia entry can be a battleground. Yet let’s also be honest and confess that complete and total accuracy and neutrality is not the role that Wikipedia plays in our culture. It may well be true that Wikipedia is not completely accurate or neutral; it also is no doubt true that I don’t have four wheels and a horn. That’s because I’m not a car, nor should I apologize for not being one. In the same way, Wikipedia is not a completely accurate or neutral source for information, nor should it apologize for not being one. The site itself even says so: on its “about” page, we are warned that especially newer articles may contain “significant misinformation, unencyclopedic content, or vandalism.” No, you can’t cite Wikipedia authoritatively. But you can learn from it. When I needed a jumpstart for another paper on Finney, Wikipedia led me to a site with all of Finney’s works. The links also led me to a bit of interesting debate from varying perspectives on Finney, as well as the website of the church he founded. While I couldn’t cite anything directly from the site, I found it helpful in getting off the ground. Wikipedia is also able to cover more arcane and interesting topics than a normal encyclopedia. Hitting the “random article” button five times gave me articles on HSY (a Korean fashion label), Tagin (an Indian people-group), ’70s Rock Must Die (a 2000 album by a group called “Lard”), Carson High School, and Kirkland House (one of the undergrad houses at Harvard). Who else would cover all of these things at all, even if their coverage wasn’t completely bias-free (as if any coverage ever is)? You also can enjoy Wikipedia. Some people decry the vandalism and turf wars that go on — I sort of like it. It’s a case study in people being people — sort of like Survivor on the internet. If people want to waste their lives arguing on Wikipedia, isn’t it at least nice that we can be amused by their foolishness? So instead of being disappointed that Wikipedia refuses to be respectable, let’s enjoy its strengths: it has potential to provide new information on esoteric topics and provide geek drama at the same time. What’s not to like? |
There’s a lot to like about Wikipedia, conceptually. There are millions of frequently enlightening articles, especially those on uncontroversial matters, ephemeral lists, and complex topics. Most of their guidelines and principles are wise and thoughtful, and no one denies it’s an educational and entertaining way to spend an hour. But other than this article, I will never cite to it here. Wikipedia often reminds me of feudal Europe in the Middle Ages — rule by the whims of the few. You know the party line — anyone can edit anything — but in truth, the site is like any other bloated bureaucracy, full of ardent protectors of power and self-interest. If an article has a wise, benevolent ruler, or a good group of editors, it may be neutral and well-sourced. But in the frequent event there’s a turf war among users who each want it their way, it becomes part-faculty meeting, part- soap opera, a storm of endless bloviation about complex acronyms and ‘sockpuppets.’ Kissinger once said, “University politics are vicious precisely because the stakes are so small.” I think he used that example only because he wasn’t yet able to watch “Netscott” and “Radiant!” argue for days about whether discussions or surveys were better to “build consensus” on Islam and Slavery. More than just the culture irks me. When researching our Council question about drugs, I read the Wikipedia article about the War on Drugs. It had a questionable claim that marijuana was America’s largest cash crop, and cited an article in a British newsletter, which in turn cited a report from something called the Bulletin of Cannabis Reform. Apparently, as long as information is cited, it can come from the most biased sources. In fact, most of that article reads like the platform of the Marijuana Reform Party, but good luck getting its defenders to let you change that. People, even those who should know better, frequently defend their work like it was their child, especially about politics. Remember Richard Gere publicly kissing that actress in India? I looked her up, and the second result was Wikipedia, which called her an “AIDS sufferer.” That didn’t seem right, so I looked further — turned out she only PLAYED an AIDS sufferer in a movie; she was actually an AIDS activist. And “activist” was on Wikipedia for weeks, until someone changed it slyly. And there it stood, proud and unchallenged, for over a week, until I came along. This is why I can’t and won’t cite Wikipedia — you can’t trust it. And you can’t count on anything to still be there in two minutes, let alone two weeks. For instance, “DanEdmonds” decided it was inappropriate to include “AIDS activist” in the article, so he removed it. I went to the Wikipedia ‘drugs’ article as I wrote this, and its first sentence read: “Drugs are good for you.” I changed it back immediately; the sentence had only been up an hour. But in the past 24 hours, there have been 19 similar attacks by vandals — it’s almost all that’s done to change the page. What a waste of time! You know quite well how many morons and troublemakers there are in the world. If you still want to trust a vast random sampling of humanity to be authoritative about any subject, be my guest. I’ll stick to using it to find Sir Mix-A-Lot trivia. Did you know politics are “important” to him? |
Quote of the Day, 5/18/07
“Television is a medium because anything well done is rare.” — F. Allen or E. Kovacs
Immigration and Justice
I have always been focused on justice. I was quite concerned in my youth that fairness was not being upheld, to the point of complaining vocally if a younger sibling was allowed to bend the rules in softball to get on base safely. It wasn’t really about who won — at least not once I got past age 10 or so — it was about what was right and just. Or more correctly, what I thought was right, frequently not quite the same thing.
And this brings us to the President’s remarks today (emphasis mine):
The bipartisan solution the senators agreed to today requires us to meet important goals in addressing border security and enhancing interior and worksite enforcement. Once those goals are met, the plan would create a temporary worker program to address the needs of our growing economy and take pressure off the border by allowing workers to come to this country for a short period of time and fill jobs Americans are not doing.
This sort of blatant, unjust lie infuriates me! Jobs Americans are not doing? What on earth is the President talking about? I’ve watched Dirty Jobs enough to know that Americans are perfectly willing to do almost anything for a living — we collect bat guano, clean septic tanks, turn roadkill into sculpture, and crawl into the bowels of coal mines. I would much rather clean buildings, cook dinner, watch children, and pick grapes than do any of those four things. So what’s really going on here?
Now I know people who support amnesty for illegal immigrants, and they usually have a strong sense of justice as well. They will tell me it’s not fair for this tremendously rich nation to benefit from the hard work of these generally good and decent people, while denying them an opportunity to truly become part of our society.
Well guess what? I couldn’t possibly agree more. I think it’s terrible that the United States has effectively shifted the burden of some of its most menial and physical (but frequently necessary) jobs to a group that isn’t represented in our government and isn’t as well-protected by our laws.
But pay close attention to this point — THIS ONLY MAKES IT WORSE!
Repeating the lie that there are jobs “Americans won’t do,” and using it to create an amnesty program, doesn’t benefit the illegal immigrants currently doing those jobs — it only helps the large corporations, well-off ranchers, and rich couples who are all too willing to pay these people a wage made artificially low by unfair competition!
If there is really a job that “Americans won’t do,” there’s an easy solution: OFFER MORE MONEY TO DO THAT JOB. You better believe the guano collectors of the world are making more than $10 an hour. Let’s stop thinking about these as jobs that need to be filled by illegal immigrants who are willing to accept the offered pittance, and start treating the problem from the side of the business. Whether that means increased mechanization or increased pay, we should provide something beyond the thinly veiled condescension of amnesty and the promise of continued slavery at a dead-end job!
That is unjust.
We have people — intelligent, well-educated scientists and doctors — who would love to come to this country to live and work, from countries like India. But instead of changing our immigration policy to bring in more of those high achievers, who would compete for white-collar jobs and force our educational system to improve, we’ve decided to give our official blessing to workers who provide a far lower benefit to society, compete with native low-skilled workers with few other options, and exhibit disregard for the laws and sovereignty of our nation.
Maybe I’ve been wrong before, but I’m pretty sure that’s not fair.
The Mixed Multitude
Exodus 12:38 — “And a mixed multitude went up also with them…”
Numbers 11:4 — “And the mixed multitude that was among them fell a lusting…”
When God called his people out of Egypt they were accompanied by a “mixed multitude.” But who were they? Why would they throw their lot in with a band of slaves who had been living under the oppression of the Pharaohs? Why, if they were so enamored with the foods and other comforts of Egypt, would they accompany the Hebrews out into the desert to worship a God they did not know? And how was it that they come to be such a catalyst for discontent? They were the opportunists, the hangers-on, those who wait to see which way the wind will blow, then choose to side with the group winning at that moment. And they will always plague God’s people during times of ease by fomenting rebellion.
During the days of the Exodus the land had been destroyed by plagues. Crops were gone, cattle decimated, and the manhood of Egypt lay dead in cradle and field. A mammoth battle had raged and God had showed himself mighty by delivering his people, leaving a ruined empire behind. For this mixed multitude the only choice was to throw in their lot with the “scum of the earth,” former slaves they would not have shared a meal with before.
And so we see the same thing in 4th-century Rome. Christianity has raged like a wildfire across the landscape. Its early adherents lived as slaves, owning no property, with no rights under the law — yet it conquered. They fed the lions in the Colosseum and served as human torches for the garden parties of the Emperor. Once again God shows his might, but before long, the mixed multitude slunk back to take the coattails of the Christian church and ride out the shift in fortunes. Constantine began to show favoritism to Christians and suddenly it was advantageous to follow Jesus. John Lord’s Beacon Lights of History quotes one pagan general as saying, “If the Emperor would make me Bishop of Rome, I too would become a Christian.” With this the prevalent attitude, the church was soon filled with scoundrels and fortune seekers.
Constantine also issued decrees exempting the clergy from taxes and military service. What a wonderful profession the ministry had now become — no taxes, and other saps must fight the Goths and Vandals. The mixed multitude was among us again, lusting after the flesh, fomenting rebellion and discontent. And how similar! Rome was soon a shell of its former power, sacked by barbarians thrice the next century, abandoned even by the Emperor.
The mixed multitude was then absorbed, changing the church completely, until finally Leo the Great ascended to the bishopric of Rome in the 5th century, filling the void of power by forging the Catholic Church from this half pagan-half Christian multitude. It became a world power modeled after — sitting on the foundation of — the fallen empire.
Ask Bweinh! Poll — Pizza Toppings
It’s the semi-weekly Ask Bweinh! poll! A special thanks goes out to our longtime sponsor, the U.S. Navy. The Navy: 14 times as many airplanes as boats!
What will Bweinh! take on our pizza?
| Rank | Topping | Points | ||
| 1. | Pepperoni | 26 | ||
| 2. | Sausage | 23 | ||
| 3. | Extra Cheese | 18 | ||
| 4. | Peppers | 15 | ||
| 5. | Mushrooms | 13 | ||
| 6. | Ham | 10 | ||
| 7-8 (tie) | Pineapple, Anchovies | 6 | ||
| 9. | “My teeth” | 5 | ||
| 10-11 (tie) | Bacon, Olives | 3 | ||
| Other | Green Chile, Onions, Paprika | 2 |
Joke of the Day, 5/17/07
Two hunters were out in the woods when one of them fell to the ground. He didn’t seem to be breathing, and his eyes rolled back in his head, so the other guy whipped out his cell phone and called 911.
“My friend is dead!,” he gasped. “What can I do?”
The operator replies, “Take it easy, I can help. First, you’d better make sure he’s dead.”
There were a few seconds of silence, then two shots.
“OK, now what?”
Battle of the Bands XI
Last week’s winner was Scarlet Thread! Oh, and don’t forget we’re still fighting for the honor of Best Religion Blog! We’re hanging in at a solid 26th or 27th right now with 85 votes. If you were one (or more) of those votes, you have my sincerest thanks!!
Here are the newest proposed band names! The best two will move on this Saturday.
Bible Discussion — Genesis 40-43
This week, Bweinh.com looks at the next four chapters of the Bible, Genesis 40-43.
Previously in Genesis:
1-4 | 5-9 | 10-14 | 15-18-2 | 19-22
23-26 | 27-29 | 30-32 | 33-36 | 37-39
INTRODUCTION:
Pastor Paul:
Rev. Paul Gmitter is senior pastor of Dexter Faith Fellowship, in Dexter, NY!
Joseph has kept his heart right through 13 years of trial. God has brought him through multiple betrayals and he has served others faithfully while seemingly not getting any closer to the dream and purpose in his own heart. God knows.
Chloe:
More histrionics from Jacob/Israel, promises from the many brothers, and glory for Joseph.
David:
Joseph goes from being a slave to being Prime Minister of Egypt, gaining a new family in the process.
SOMETHING YOU’D NEVER NOTICED BEFORE:
Steve:
Joseph’s words should have surprised his brothers or given them a hint: “I fear God.” Also Joseph used the exact same phrase (“Pharaoh will lift your head:”) to introduce the fates of both the blessed butler and the doomed baker, like he was building suspense about who was going home on American Idol or something. More than a little bit mean!
Tom:
I didn’t understand how Joseph had fooled his brothers, until I noticed he had his name changed to the popular Zaphnathpaaneah, and used interpreters.
David:
Pharaoh was having a birthday party. I don’t know why I find that amusing but I do.
Chloe:
Reuben has this incredible eldest son complex. He believes it’s his responsibility to solve every problem the family encounters, just as he tries to do when he promises Jacob he can put both of Reuben’s sons to death if Benjamin isn’t returned to him.
Then again, Reuben’s need to please may have something do with how he slept with his father’s concubine.
Job:
It seems that Jacob and his tribe had sorta quit on Simeon, counting him as lost and wishing him the mummified best…
Do You Believe?
I will start with a precaution to the reader. No one to whom I have told this story has believed me, except for one person who doesn’t count because he has no choice. So I would like to know if this is really such an outlandish story.
My father was a security guard for the last few years of his life. He worked nights at a yard on the Rio Grande that stored the freights on the semi trucks. He took us there sometimes, usually when we were on our way to the City of Rocks in southwestern New Mexico. We would have with us powdered donuts (my sister’s favorite) and Yoo-hoo (my favorite), and we would go to see the guard goats.
Yes, the guard goats.
Not guard dogs, or guard rattlesnakes, or guard tarantulas. Guard goats. And they were mean! I was terrified of them: the big male one, all the vicious little nannies, and even the kid or two that would wander around. The full-grown ones were the same height as I was; they would stare me down and lower their heads, and I would run behind my 6′ father and cower while he laughed and insisted the goats would not hurt me because they knew him.
They never did actually attack me or my sister, though they may have menaced us often. But they were raised to protect expensive equipment from thieves, so wouldn’t you be nervous around them, too?
For those of you who don’t find guard goats completely ridiculous, I thank you for vindicating me. For those who do, here’s proof of their existence: here, here, and here!
If you still don’t believe me, come to New Mexico. I’ll prove it.
Quote of the Day, 5/16/07
“No sane man will dance.” — Cicero
Falwell
So Jerry Falwell died today. Following the reading recommendations of a friend of Bweinh!, I discovered that a few people — some Christians, even — took joy in the news. Made light of his death, in writing.
I am a Christian conservative who didn’t like Jerry Falwell much while he was alive; his death doesn’t change my feelings one bit. Far, far too often what came out of his mouth contained poor logic, embodied poorer theology, and exhibited poorest timing. There was of course no defense for his statement about 9/11: “I point the finger in their [pagans, abortionists, feminists, gays, the ACLU] face and say, ‘You helped this happen.'”
Much of what he said was wrong.
Much of what he did seemed to lack grace.
But I think it says a lot about someone when their initial published reaction to a man’s death is unabashed glee, with a side of regret that another pastor didn’t join him. Or when you use a man’s death to mock him publicly for comments he has repudiated and, no doubt, regretted.
Where is the grace in these words? Is this not the same judgmental, even hateful, spirit they attack in Falwell himself?
Jerry Falwell, for all his public faults, was not a monster, or a particularly bad man at all. He was a pastor, and a father, and a loudmouth, and above all, a sinner, saved by grace — the son of an atheist bootlegger whose life was forever changed by God at age 19, when he abandoned a promising baseball career to go to Bible school.
“My heart was burning to serve Christ,” he said. “I knew nothing would ever be the same again.”
There’s plenty to criticize him for, but that man did much good as well. And if you stand today to cast a stone at his grave, take care you do not channel the same “intolerance” you claim to hate.
My Worst Teacher
Whether holding my hand over the fire pit of his analogies or examining broken twigs on the trail of his meandering reasons, never track his logic could I.
I always felt like I was a few days behind him, pressing through the dark forest of my instruction — trusting, hoping that his point lay just ahead, around the bend. I never enjoyed the chase and it’s a thin line between being challenged and harassed. I came to a particular point in my trek when I determined that when a point is that well-hidden and obscure… when it requires that much angst to merely understand it… only a fool spends his time rotting in the woods trying to catch it. The best in life is easily understood and truth despises fog.
My worst teacher.
A man who bristled at the notion that you might think differently than him, he sent you his own copious notes before class and asked that you not take any others. They distracted him. If a question endeavored to stampede the discussion away from his notes, the energy he’d employ to corral us back into line was almost pornographic. Bullying, effacing and no-kid-gloves sophistry were never below him. Sadly, these tactics were never below me either, and we butted heads to such a degree that he eventually asked me to drop the class. Success in his class was conformity to his thinking, a convincing imitation of it, or the old B- silence — none of which seemed a workable solution to me. My parents had taught me to speak my mind and to be aware and wary of socialist thinking. To him I was ruined.
While he had earned tenure, a doctorate in sociology, and ample respect from his colleagues, in turn he asked his students to simply piggyback on his experiences, judgment and morality. To just trust him. Our own conclusions were not encouraged, but headed-off.
But perhaps in being the worst teacher of my life, he is slowly morphing more readily into the best. He is the one who taught me that when it comes to faith, love and logic, I will only embrace them when I am tracking the truth — not, alone, someone else’s version of it.
Clash of the Titans XXII: Is Hell Eternal?
| In this corner, arguing that hell is finite, is Job! | And in this corner, arguing that hell is eternal, is Dave! | |
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I hail from the Advent Christian denomination, the Millennium Falcon of Protestants — old and small. Two main tenets from our statement of faith create the most distance between us and the Empire. First, we believe in “soul sleep” — a person doesn’t immediately ascend or descend to heaven or hell but remains, well, dead (1 Thessalonians 4:16) until Christ’s return and the subsequent judgment. Second, we don’t believe hell lasts forever, as some might imagine. We believe that when Matthew writes that “these (the wicked) will go away into eternal punishment,” he means eternal destruction (not necessarily torment) and separation from God. Let me clarify that point. My opposition would seem to read that verse to mean the wicked will go away into an eternal life of punishment; I read it to say the end of their lives is the punishment. While neither of these Adventist points pertain to salvation and are best summed up as “splitting hairs,” they are, nevertheless, important for Christians to discuss because of the way the world has begun to paint our views. This point can lead to the larger and more relevant debate — how else is our faith colored by things other than Scripture? Be it Gary Larson’s Far Side or the iconic film It’s a Wonderful Life, we — and the world — have begun to view both heaven and hell through the filter of modern fiction, lore and whimsy. The idea of the torment one might receive eternally in hell or the bliss awaiting in heaven is largely produced by our “Mind’s Eye.” Lava, steam, wailing, pitchforks? Clouds, togas, gold, pearly gates? With this as our tapestry of thought, our theology tends to coordinate itself with it. I don’t think anyone would argue accuracy has been the foremost concern of Christianity over the past few centuries. But rather than deferring to Dante, I note instead the words of the Apostle Paul in his second letter to the Thessalonians (1:8-10) — “He will punish those who do not know God and do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus. They will be punished with everlasting destruction and shut out from the presence of the Lord, and from the majesty of His power on the day He comes to be glorified in His holy people and to be marveled at among all those who have believed.” While I can find a duality of thought in some verses, this one is far too straightforward to be renegotiated per the notion that the damned are due the déjà  vu of recurrent scorched skin. Paul infers nothing but a totality of dismissal from consciousness. I think the word “everlasting” is employed here and elsewhere concerning the afterlife because of the pagan religious thinking that Thessalonica and other locations were prone to. The idea of a soul as a cockroach, able to scurry under the fridge of malleable consequences, was one Paul was urgent to dispel. And it’s making a comeback. While I have already noted that our main concern should be what happens here in the fourth quarter, not in the locker room after the game, take it from Chewbacca — things are not always as you’ve always thought them to be. |
“There is no doctrine I would more willingly remove from Christianity than [hell], if it lay in my power…” In 1793 William Blake published The Marriage of Heaven and Hell. Although he confessed ambiguity over Blake’s meaning, C.S. Lewis intended and entitled The Great Divorce as a response of sorts; in his view, the inhabitants of Heaven and hell could never be reconciled, for they are ever growing further apart, not closer. It’s a salient point in whether hell is eternal — if hell is temporary, we must assume that either its inhabitants are, in some fashion, being reformed, with an eye toward reuniting them with the inhabitants of Heaven — or their immortal soul has to be destroyed, allowing it to escape eternal damnation through annihilation. Is there some hint in the Bible of a place where such reconciliation could be accomplished? Is there evidence for annihilation to render Hell temporary? First let me make clear that my belief in eternal hell is not based on Lewis’s work or personal preference, but the authority of the Bible. It is stated clearly in Matthew 25:46 that “these [the wicked] will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.” The word eternal, used twice, is the same word in the Greek and carries the same meaning in both phrases. The punishments of hell are just as eternal for the wicked as eternal life is for the righteous, whether we consider purgatory or annihilation. Other references, including Mark 9:42-48, Luke 16:19-31, 2 Thess. 1:8,9, Jude 7-13, and Rev. 14:9-11, affirm that Hell and its attendant punishments are eternal. The only Christian doctrine to support a temporary rehabilitation arrangement after death is purgatory. This is a doctrine of the Catholic Church whereby God takes people at death and holds them in torment until someone ransoms them. Originally this could be accomplished through prayers and good deeds on their behalf, but during fundraising for St. Peter’s Basilica, the church shifted its preference to cash. Any attempt to make hell less than permanent on the basis of reforming the wicked completely removes the belief in hell, leaving us with Heaven and purgatory. But this would be purgatory even the Catholic Church does not believe in, for in their doctrine, purgatory is purification the believer undergoes in preparation for Heaven. It’s never portrayed as a place the wicked can go. In Catholic doctrine, no one escapes Hell; only the Christian sees purgatory, then Heaven. Annihilation is a more modern achievement that rests on two arguments. The first is that God can’t punish finite sins with an infinite Hell, for this would be unfair and disproportionate. But how then can we expect God to reward finite obedience to the Gospel with an infinite Heaven? Each position is taught in equality in Matthew 25; what applies to one certainly would apply to the other. The second argument is that the Bible doesn’t say all men possess immortality, only God and the righteous. This would mean men would eventually perish and hell would cease to exist. There is more evidence for this, as Scripture does not seem to make any explicit statement that all men possess an immortal soul. But the enormous weight of passages presenting hell as eternal gives sufficient reason to believe it is taught by inference. |
Joke of the Day, 5/15/07
3 engineers and 3 accountants were traveling by train to a conference. At the station, the accountants each bought a ticket, but were surprised to see the three engineers buy only one.
“How will you all travel on only one ticket?,” one asked.
“You’ll see,” said an engineer.
They all boarded the train; the accountants took their seats, but the engineers crammed into the restroom and closed the door. When the train departed, the conductor came around collecting tickets. He knocked on the restroom door and said, “Ticket, please.” The door opened a small crack; a single arm emerged with the ticket, and the conductor moved on.
On the return trip, the accountants decided to buy only the single ticket for their return trip. But to their astonishment, the engineers didn’t buy a ticket at all.
“How will you ride without a ticket?,” asked one perplexed accountant.
“You’ll see.”
When they boarded the train, the accountants crammed into one restroom and the engineers the other. The train departed, and one engineer left his restroom and crossed to where the accountants were hiding. Knocking on the door, he said, “Ticket, please.”
The Council’s Ruling — Transportation
This and every Monday, the Bweinh!tributors, having convened in secret for hours of reasoned debate and consideration, will issue a brief and binding ruling on an issue of great societal import.
This week’s question — What is the best form of transportation?
Josh delivers the ruling of the council, joined by MC-B and Job:
Despite its limitations in speed and scope, walking is the best form of transportation. It’s free, universal, great exercise, environmentally safe, and completely flexible.
Tom also concurs in the judgment, joined by Mike:
Walking is the best – it’s the oldest, most pleasant, and most reliable form of transportation.
Chloe dissents:
The best form of transportation is the public transportation system because it’s cheap, cuts down on individual car usage (and therefore pollution) and provides jobs.
David dissents:
Nothing says “America” like a great road trip, and such an expedition demands a car and nothing else.
And Steve dissents, joined by Djere:
Flight is the best, safest, fastest, and most useful form of transportation, and soon it will be as common as driving.
Next week: the best time of the day!
Ask Bweinh! Poll — Day of the Week
Phillips’ Milk of Magnesia proudly brings you this week’s Ask Bweinh! poll. Phillips’ Milk of Magnesia: because sometimes, enough is enough.
Here we have the best days of the week!
| Rank | Day | Points | ||
| 1. | Sunday | 33 | ||
| 2. | Saturday | 32 | ||
| 3. | Friday | 26 | ||
| 4. | Thursday | 14 | ||
| 5. | Monday | 12 | ||
| 6. | Wednesday | 9 | ||
| 7. | Tuesday | 3 |
Quote of the Day, 5/14/07
“You are steadfast, constant in yourself; but we are tossed on a tide that puts us to the proof, and if we could not sob our troubles in your ear, what hope should we have left to us?” — St. Augustine of Hippo
Bweinh! Soundtrack — Michael Card
Every weekend, a different Bweinh!tributor will discuss a song or songwriter that inspires or interests them. Read the first six soundtrack entries here.
Those of you who know me well know that I like music that sounds authentic. It could be almost any genre, as long as it feels pure and grounded somehow. I also like a clever turn of a phrase, and informed, nuanced lyrics.
So it may be somewhat surprising that I hadn’t really listened to Michael Card before I won a cassette tape copy of his “Poiema” album from a radio show at Houghton. If I’m not mistaken, the show was hosted by Bweinh!’s very own Josh Jones and his roommate, Hubie Hostetter. (If I’m mistaken, guys, I’m sorry–it’s been 8-9 yrs.)
I fell in love right away. Now I own a lot of Card’s music, and still have a lot more to collect. Of all his work, I’ve grown to like his album with John Michael Talbot, “Brother to Brother,” the best. Here, the two perform duets of the songs that each wrote independently. Card took quite a hit in the evangelical community for this album; many canceled concerts and wrote harsh letters decrying him as one who compromised and sold out. But for Card, it was a chance to work with a musical hero as well as someone he admired in the faith. The step looks downright prophetic today, as evangelicals and Catholics continue to discover areas of common concern and ministry while still maintaining sharp differences.
My favorite Michael Card song is “In the Wilderness.” It is a meditation on how God calls his children to “wilderness times”–painful times in our lives that we cannot understand. But he believes that God calls us to those wilderness times to shape us and change us more radically than any other way can.
It is reminiscent of the idea of the “Dark Night of the Soul,” as St. John of the Cross put it: we are given times of suffering in order that we might learn to love God and not merely the things God gives us. God is so good at giving gifts that we often fall in love with the gifts and forget the Giver. When the gifts are removed, only the Giver remains and we are thus trained to love the Giver more completely and fully.
Evildoers Beware
I’m planning to go see the new Spiderman movie tomorrow, and it reminds me that I’ve always wanted a superpower. Flying would probably be my first choice. I used to dream about flying all the time when I was younger, although in my dreams it was a lot more like swimming underwater, very slow going and difficult to take off. Recently I discovered I actually have a superpower of sorts. It’s not all that impressive as superpowers go, but here it is. 
I can instantly tell who the most famous or popular white professional basketball player is at any given time.
It’s true. All I have to do is step onto certain courts and wait to see what the players there call me. When I was very young, it was always Larry Bird, obviously. As I got older, John Stockton was the recurring theme, with flashes of Christian Laettner, Keith Van Horn, and even Arvydas Sabonis. Right now, the answer is easily Steve Nash. 
Of course, every now and again my power experiences a slight glitch. Some guys will call me “old school” or “fundamental,” which are basically nice ways to say, “You don’t jump very high,” and “I’m much quicker than you.” Times like these I start hearing names like Jerry West. I even heard Elgin Baylor the other day. Maybe there’s some subtle nuance of my game that reminded him of Elgin, but I’m guessing this was just a slight technical difficulty with my power.
Anyway, if anyone can figure out a way I can fight crime with this particular power, or at least get my own comic book, please let me know.
Clash of the Titans XXI: Europe v. the US
| In this corner, supporting Europe, is Chloe! | And in this corner, arguing for the USA , is Djere! | |
|
I know what you’re thinking. “Europe? I’m not voting for Europe!” But please put aside your ethnocentrism — voting for Europe does not make you a bad American. In fact, many Americans prefer Europe, not because it’s better than the US, but because it’s older. Europe has millennia on us, which makes their history a lot more interesting. Starting with the Greeks and Romans and moving to the Goths and Visigoths, Picts and Celts, Germans and Gauls, you’ve got it all — intellectualism, art, ancient architecture, mysteries, magic, and intrigue. I’m not talking a couple hundred years, either; Europe goes all the way back to Julius Caesar. And speaking of Caesar, Europe also has Shakespeare. That’s about a thousand bonus points right there. If that doesn’t convince you, I’m going to guess that you’re still sticking to your patriotism, and good for you! Patriotism is great, but like I said before, voting for Europe is not unpatriotic. You will not be arrested for treason, I think. I could be wrong. If I am, you can take it up with Steve. He’s a lawyer. But if that doesn’t convince you, I’ll appeal to the higher good. Europe has the church fathers. Aquinas, Ignatius, Augustine, Tertullian, Francis, Claire, Catherine, Wesley, Teresa: Open any book of church teachings and you’ll find Europeans. America has Joseph Smith and the Westboro Baptist Church. Plus, Djere is right. Europe invented America. In fact, Europe invented our democratic system! Locke and Smith were English, Hume was Scottish, and Tocqueville and Montesquieu were French. Without Europe, where would America be? Well, it wouldn’t. Also, there’s the Beatles. My last point is short and simple, and for the women. Have you ever tried European chocolate? |
Europe versus the United States? Please. In this post-9/11 age, I don’t even have to write anything, just post a sparkly animated GIF of the American flag. But I’m a traditionalist, and since the founding of this country, we’ve been beating Europe, so why stop now? First, as a gesture of good will, let’s go over some of what ol’ Europe has going for it. For starters, Europeans invented America. Second…ummmm, second… Oh! Second, Swiss Army Knives. And third, Scotland. Now that the niceties are out of the way, let’s get to business. Europe is an aging, decrepit, socialist cesspool full of arrogant, bigoted Europeans. But not for long. Soon it will be full of dead, arrogant, bigoted Europeans and angry, disaffected Muslim youth. America is great because of Americans like Ronald Reagan. Europe is terrible because of Europeans like Stalin, Hitler, Chirac, the anti-Christ, and “Lord of the Dance” Michael Flatley. Man, this is like batting practice. Europeans are godless, they invented communism, legalized drugs and prostitution, their athletes can’t get half as many Olympic medals as ours, and you know the North American All-Stars are *sooo* much better than the “World” All-Stars in the NHL. Sure, we’ve made our mistakes, but there’s time for us to change. Europe? We’d be better off burning it down and rebuilding America II from scratch. ‘Boom!,’ goes London, ‘Boom!’ Paris! More room for you, and more room for me… Cheers, mates. |
The Student’s Wager
At 11:21 this morning, I turned in the last final of my sophomore year of college. It feels pretty good to finally be done and have summer looming before me with its promises of outdoor fun, a multitude of refreshing beverages and gainful employment. However, as I look back, successfully completing this year of college seems a bit hollow. Of the 76 or so years the average American male lives, twenty of mine will be eaten up preparing for the future (3 or so of daycare/preschool, K-12, 4 years of undergrad) — that’s over a quarter of the average without including graduate work!
Completing this year has reminded me that every college guy like me is gambling a rather large portion of his life on the idea that the other 75% of his life on Earth will be worth more to him with a college degree than the 25% he’s traded pursuing one, never mind the loans to repay. That’s a significant wager, and it would be rather frightening if it didn’t pay off.
Of course, I still have my ace in the hole. It will go well for me, even if I become destitute, live in a cardboard box, pick up a touch of the consumption, run up a huge hospital bill and die. I know where I’ll end up in the end, and once I’m there, the results of the earthly wager won’t matter so much. Not everyone has that security, though.
The liberal arts program at an average university teaches students they are better off relying on their own ability to provide for their own security, severely limited as it may be, than to rely on a nebulous concept like God for their needs. After all, if you can’t see Him, how can you trust Him? Students who accept this lie leave the university unarmed to fight with hope against the injustice the world runs on, which eventually leaves many disillusioned, bitter and depressed. Not to be too sentimental, but if in the next few weeks you could think about the students graduating this time of year and pray for them a little, they may appreciate it someday. I know I will; I might have to work with some of these people!
Also, if you could pray that I don’t live in a box, that’d be super too. Thanks.
Joke of the Day, 5/11/07
Three men were traveling through rural America when their car broke down; they sought shelter at a farmhouse.
The farmer had two spare beds in the room next to his daughter’s, but since he had heard all the stories he informed the men that one would have to sleep in the barn. One of them, a polite Indian mathematician, immediately volunteered and went out to the barn. But a short time later there was a knock on the door; the mathematician was there, apologetically explaining there were cows in the barn, and because of his Hindu convictions, he couldn’t sleep there.
A second man, a conservative rabbi, headed out, but in a few minutes there was a knock on the door. Sure enough, he too was back, explaining that since there was a pig in the barn, he would also be quite uncomfortable there.
So the third man, a practicing lawyer, agreeably proceeded out to the barn — but in a little while, there was a knock on the door. They answered, and there were the cows and the pig.
Done
I haven’t had time for a real article today, because I just finished the last final exam of my life. I’ll post tonight or tomorrow, but until then, know that today I wore the same orange shirt I wore on my first day of college almost ten years ago, and that after this morning’s rain, leaves miraculously and suddenly appeared on all the neighborhood trees, where naught but buds had been before. It’s a spring miracle.
Mother’s Day
“Momma, I’ve got two strong hands,
They’re fine as far as hands go.
I can shoulder the future, I can face the wind,
For the dream that I must follow…”
“…but I’m only afraid that my dreams may betray me,
and I’ll never get home again…”
When I first discovered this song, I had been gone from New York and separated from my mom for several years. I found myself in Alabama pursuing the call of God on my life, but feeling like I might never get home again; the song expressed so much of what I longed to tell her if I could only find the words. “I’m fine, Mom, because you made strong. You taught me to stand and fight, to not give up — and to love my children with a fathomless love.”
“But I’ll carry the songs I learned when we were kids…”
My dad was a singer in a band but it’s Mom I always remember as the singer. He sang in bars and honky-tonks, places I never saw, but she sang at the kitchen sink and in the living room. She sang everywhere, all the time. She sang about little coconuts and little boxes made from ticky-tacky. She sang about cellar doors and rain barrels and Judas selling Jesus for 30 pieces of silver. She sang sad songs about a girl named Patches and unrequited love. She sang about a man’s dying words — “Tell Laura I love her.” She sang one song called “Beer, Wine and Whiskey,” but it was no drinking song; it was about someone advertising alcohol on a billboard. I remember somebody drank, somebody drove and somebody died. It taught me at an early age that we’re responsible for our own actions.
“I’ll carry the scars of generations gone by…”
I learned so much about love, hard work and how to laugh in the face of adversity through the scars we bore together. See, we were betrayed. Betrayed and abandoned by a husband and father who could not conquer the demons of alcohol and wanderlust that haunted him; yet she never stopped loving him. I know, because when I thought we had every reason to hate him she still spoke well of him. She wept, heartbroken, at his funeral. And never remarried.
What taught me to laugh at adversity, though, was a time when we were broke and living in a housing project, and all the food ran out. I was terrified at this glimpse of the grown-up world, but she saw my fear, took me by the shoulder and said, “Come on. We’re going to the store.” We drove the battered car to the IGA and loaded the cart with good things to eat. Fried chicken, ice cream, cookies, rolls, Pepsi in glass bottles. She didn’t know where the money would come from to cover the check, but she wrote it anyway. Back in the car she said, “If we’re going under, we’re going under, but we are going to live high on the hog tonight!” And she laughed. And my fear fled.
I have never loved my mother more than I did that day. I knew no matter what happened, things would be okay, and I knew she would do anything for her children. I’ve shared that story with my own children and even lived out similar moments. Let tomorrow bring what it will, today we party!
“I’ll pray for you always, and I promise you this,
I’ll carry on, I’ll carry on…”
I wish I could be there with you, Mom, but wherever I am, you can be sure I’ll be okay, because you made me okay. When I became a Christian at 17, I was already familiar with His endless love and the gentle meekness of His touch, because I had seen the Spirit of Jesus in you long before that day.
I’ll remember the songs we sang when we were kids; I’ll remember the scars of generations gone by; I’ll pray for you always and I promise you this . . . I’ll carry on.
I love you, Mom.
Ask Bweinh! Poll — Favorite Year
Once again, today’s Ask Bweinh! poll is presented by our friends at Liquid-Plumr, makers of the Liquid-Plumr Foaming Pipe Snake! Dissolves hair AND gunk!
These were the best years of our lives:
| Rank | Year | Points | ||
| 1. | 1999 | 14 (1) | ||
| 2. | 2005 | 14 (0) | ||
| 3-4 (tie) | 2006, 2007 | 12 | ||
| 5-6 (tie) | 1983, 1997 | 10 | ||
| 7. | 2001 | 9 | ||
| 8. | 1984 | 6 | ||
| 9-11 (tie) | 2003, 2004, 1985 | 5 | ||
| Other | 1978, 1996, 1982, 1998, 1986, 1994, 1987, 1992, 1993, 2149, 1991, 2002 | 1-4 |
Quote of the Day, 5/10/07
“Men should stop fighting among themselves and start fighting insects.” — L. Burbank
Battle of the Bands X
Here are the latest band names! The best will move on this Saturday.
Bible Discussion — Genesis 37-39
This week, Bweinh.com looks at the next three chapters of the Bible, Genesis 37-39.
Previously in Genesis: 1-4 | 5-9 | 10-14 | 15-18 | 19-22 | 23-26 | 27-29 | 30-32 | 33-36
INTRODUCTION:
Rev. Tate:
The Rev. Barry Joe Tate is a graduate of Aurora University, proud father of five and the first to ever submit a Bweinh!tribution via fax. He makes his home in Benson, VT.
Jesus bore testimony to God’s ability to fix times and epochs by His own authority, and the Father declares, ‘Surely, just as I have intended so it has happened, and just as I have planned it, so it will stand . . . For the Lord of hosts has planned, and who can frustrate it? And as for His stretched-out hand, who can turn it back?” Our passage is an illustration of these truths and a commentary on them.
David:
In this section the story of Joseph, “him that was separate from his brethren,” and the story of Judah, Tamar and the scarlet thread of redemption are shared.
Job:
Finally a clear hero emerges. In Joseph we see a man not doomed to the actions or attitudes of his father, and not prone to the pervasive evil that surrounds him. Patient, wise, generous, forgiving but unrelenting, Joseph is a man who attracts an audience by performing for an audience of One.
MC-B:
Yes! I remember this one!
Of course, I’d always thought it was written in the form of a musical:
SOMETHING YOU’D NEVER NOTICED BEFORE:
Steve:
Joseph never would have found his brothers that fateful day if it hadn’t been for that “certain man” who found him wandering in the field. What was that guy doing? Why did he care about a wandering teenager with a colorful coat? And how were the brothers able to eat after tossing Joseph down in the pit?
Chloe:
I had noticed this before, but I wanted to point it out — Reuben, despite his previous sin against his father (sleeping with his concubine), has a good heart. He tries his best to rescue his brother, and when he fails, he takes the blame on himself. Good man.
Josh:
After Jacob’s sons misled him to believe Joseph was dead (without ever actually saying it — the family tradition of elaborate deception lives on!), they then came to comfort him during his mourning. This has to be one of the most hollow gestures recorded in Scripture.
Rev. Tate:
37:8 reveals that his brothers hated Joseph for his dreams as well as for his words. When they heard the dreams, their hearts witnessed to them that the words were from God, so mixed in with hatred for Joseph was a hatred for God’s will. This insight is underscored when they boast, “let us see what will become of his dreams.”
MC-B:
According to the version I’m using, Joseph’s brothers only started plotting to kill him when they saw him in the distance. Murder of a family member wouldn’t seem to be something you do on a whim (even if you can see for miles, it’s still a pretty quick decision), but then I’ve never done it so I really can’t say.
Tom:
Joseph went from a brother in Dothan to a slave in Egypt in one verse.
Job:
The writer notes Joseph was sold by the Midianites, then tells us he was sold to Potiphar by the Ishmaelites. Since both were sons of Abraham by women other than Sarah, perhaps the Israelites couldn’t effectively discern between the sons of Midian and Ishmael — or perhaps the caravan was so intertwined that either definition would do.
I Hate Packing
I hate packing. Today I packed for a weekend in Syracuse and Watertown, three weeks in Houghton for Mayterm, a few months of summer in New Mexico and a few months more in London. It was exhausting.
Packing is harder than saying goodbye to people for me. I’m shoving my whole life into two suitcases and two plastic bins. Everything I own fits in there. Saying goodbye is more like “See you later,” because I’ll talk to them soon, and I’ve cried enough at goodbyes that ended well, anyway. But packing is just hard.
I pack a lot. I pack to go to school and come back. I pack to leave the country. I pack to visit friends or attend writing conferences or do internships. I pack for weekends and weeks and months, all in two suitcases that I’ve come to love and cherish. I know exactly how big a bottle of shampoo I should get for how long I’ll be in a place, and I can tell you if a suitcase is under 50 pounds, even by a few ounces, just by picking it up. I fly often, and I wish my uncle (who buys my plane tickets) would invest in frequent-flyer miles because it would make me feel less indebted to him.
For the past two years, I’ve never been anywhere for more than four months. I’ve been to at least ten different states, spending a week or more in each, and I’ve learned a lot from my travels. I’m a better, more whole person for it. But I feel like I’ve lost something in this new adventurous life I lead. I go home and my room is not my own. I go home and my family doesn’t really know who I am. I go home and slip up, calling Houghton my home instead. I go home and I want to leave.
So I’m going home in a month, but not really. I’m going for two or three weeks, then I’m going to stay with my grandma until I go to London. I’ll have been in Las Cruces for a total of one month by the time the year is out. I’m remembering what everyone told me when I went to college, that I’ll feel like I don’t belong anywhere anymore and I’ll think I’ve lost my place in my family. “Don’t forget,” they said, “you can never lose your place in your family.” And I believe that. But they never said I’d feel like Houghton was my home.
Joke of the Day, 5/9/07
What does a Canadian say when you step on his foot?
Sorry.
When Canada was founded, they needed a name. They decided to put all the letters into a hat and draw three; whatever came out would be the name of the country. The first letter was pulled out and the leader yelled, “C, eh?” The second came out and he announced, “N, eh?” And the third: “D, eh?” And so that’s how Canada got its name.
A Texan, a Canadian, and a guy from Michigan were out riding. The Texan pulled out a bottle of whiskey, drank some, then tossed the bottle in the air, pulled out his gun and shot it. The Canadian was shocked, but the Texan said, “In Texas, there’s plenty of whiskey and bottles are cheap.”
Not wanting to be outdone, the Canadian pulled out a bottle of champagne, sipped it, then threw it in the air and shot it. This time, the guy from Michigan was stunned; the Canadian said, “Well in Canada, there’s plenty of champagne and bottles are cheap.”
So the guy from Michigan pulled out a beer. He opened it, drank a little, chugged the rest, put the bottle in his bag, then turned around and shot the Canadian. “Why did you do that?,” yelled the Texan. And the guy from Michigan says, “You see, in Michigan, we have plenty of Canadians, but bottles are worth a dime.”
I love you, Mom
I was a T-ball kid. Weren’t most of us?
But I was different, see? I was stoic enough to play third, I never had a temper tantrum, I addressed coach as “sir,” and me? Well, my glove was autographed by Cal Ripken.
I was never outstanding, but I was solid. I fielded cleanly and had ample oomph to get the ball to first in time, consistently, for an out. I batted well too; always a little bigger than kids my age, I’d make those looping hits to center and had an affinity for doubles.
T-Ball was a Saturday thing, a day when my older siblings rebelled against being dragged anywhere, leaving my dad to tend them while Mom brought me to the games. She’d dutifully (and enduringly) watch. While she knew little about the game, she was wise enough to know when I’d done something good and made sure, dang it, that her voice rose above anyone else’s so I could hear her as I reached second or attempted nonchalance after throwing someone out at first.
But we were just children, and as such, prone to childish fits of rage or shame. The slightest injury resulted in a deluge of tears. Mothers descending onto the diamond to collect a sobbing or fuming kid was as common as the first pitch.
When we played the T-ball team from hell, I figured the only injury I would receive would be to my pride. These kids were huge Virginians, bruising, fast, strong and overwhelming. When they didn’t hit a home run, they’d make anyone on the base paths a victim. They murdered us. Mothers entered the field more often than the coach. A kid shoved into the dirt, knee bleeding. Another kid threw a punch. It was awful. My team had been reduced to infants, crying for their mother’s arms — a score much more telling than the one on the Pepsi grandstand.
When their captain came to bat near the end of the game, I relaxed some. He’d been going deep right all game and I had long ago entered McDonald’s mode when he altered his swing a little and sent that ball, blistering, straight down the left field line and directly into my brown eye.
I crumpled like a sack of potatoes. I was stunned more at first — not yet realizing that it hurt, and a lot. I sprung to my feet quickly, my face beginning its magma flow of embarrassment. Wait. Wait for it….
Tears.
Pain, shock, such thorough shame — and I wept. I crossed my arms, planted my feet in my played position and cried bitterly, angrily towards the ground. The gasps from the audience expired, the murmurings peppered off and I waited for my mother to come and get me. Take me to the cooler, apply some ice, and let me cry my hot tears into her blouse. But time seemed to be going by so slowly, everyone staring at me — and then I heard steps drawing near.
“You okay, son?”
It was the umpire, his face painted with concern. I never paused.
“Yes, sir.” But he waited; I had been drilled. I held out my glove and pounded it twice, in practiced perfection, for good measure. He stood in front of the bleachers, and over his shoulder I could see my mom. She was pale, she had moved from her seat . . . but then had reseated herself. She had decided, in her motherly wisdom, not to come and get me.
“You sure?,” the ump asked softly, just between us.
“Yes, sir,” I responded, tears in full retreat. And satisfied, he walked back to home plate, leaving me unmoved from my position.
That was the first time I ever had a crowd of people clap for me. And Mom made sure, dang it, that her claps were heard above everyone else’s.
Clash of the Titans XX: Public Smoking Bans
| In this corner, promoting bans on public smoking, is Josh! | And in this corner, calling for no further restrictions, is Tom! | |
|
I still remember a time when nearly all restaurants went through the charade of designating separate “sections” for smoking, separated from nonsmokers by nothing more than the air the smoke wafted right through. I had more than a few meals ruined, so I can’t for a moment say I regret the move away from allowing smoking in certain public places. While I readily acknowledge my bias as a nonsmoker, I say bring on the bans. I’m not suggesting banning smoking outright. I understand that for many this is about having the freedom to make personal lifestyle choices, no matter how unhealthy or ill-advised they may be. Most of us engage in activities that shorten our probable lifespan because they increase our enjoyment, convenience or manageability of life. We should be free to make these choices — but only insofar as they do not interfere with others’ rights. Secondhand smoke was once considered little more than a distasteful annoyance, but there is now increasing evidence that it poses serious health risks to others. Exposure to secondhand smoke increases the likelihood of both lung cancer and heart disease, and children in particular are very susceptible to these effects. Estimates vary, but most studies attribute tens of thousands of deaths annually to secondhand smoke exposure. The bottom line is that the Surgeon General has determined there is no safe level of exposure to secondhand smoke. Smokers have the right to make the choice for their bodies, but not the right to expose others to harm. As we learn more about the dangers of secondhand smoke and the ways we are exposed to it, we must be prepared to take the necessary measures to safeguard our general health. Prospective bans will not deprive anyone of anything necessary, or even beneficial. They will simply ensure that those who wish to destroy themselves do so without collateral damage. |
Banning smoking in public, outdoor places doesn’t seem like a good idea. I am not a smoker. I believe in the right to breathe relatively clean air, but I also believe in the right to pollute your personal air with cigars, cigarettes, or pipes to your heart’s content. At this point, in New York State, smoking is banned in government offices, restaurants, bars, and can be banned on private property, at the owner’s discretion. Take away sidewalks, streets and parks and what’s left? The home (depending on your lease) and the car. Until a mandate from the people makes tobacco illegal, it’s not prudent to force a large section of our population to have to act as if it was. When making a decision with the stated intent of keeping people healthier, I find it easiest to think how it will affect the children. I close with an analysis of the most important situations where children would be harmed by banning public smoking. Scenario I: Scenario II: |
Quote of the Day, 5/8/07
“Being perfectly well-dressed gives a feeling of tranquility that religion is powerless to bestow.” – R.W. Emerson
Necco’s Sky Bar
On this, Djere’s birthday, we present a post from the Best of Djere, originally written on March 3, 2006.
I was standing in the Sweet Shoppe, a confectionary in the lobby of Hewitt Union in SUNY Oswego. While perusing the aisles of the establishment, a sorry sight caught my eye. Sitting, untouched, was an entire box of what has to be the least popular candy bar of all time — Necco’s Sky Bar.
According to Necco’s website, “In 1938, the Sky Bar was first announced to the public by means of a dramatic skywriting advertising campaign. Necco was the first candy manufacturer in this country to introduce a molded chocolate bar having four distinctly different centers enrobed in chocolate.”
The Sky Bar still claims the “honor” of being the only four-flavored candy bar in the world. But is the bar “a truly unique treat,” as Necco claims? Let’s find out together.
The premise of the bar is its four different flavored fillings: Caramel, Peanut Butter, Vanilla, and Fudge. For this experiment, I purchased a Sky Bar and 1 pint of whole milk. After each flavored section, I will record my reaction to the candy, cleanse my palate with milk, and move onward to the next.
Ask Bweinh! Poll — Most Annoying Celebrities
This week’s Ask Bweinh! poll is brought to you — as always — by General Motors. GM: we don’t make the products you buy!
Here are the most annoying celebrities in the world, as determined by our nine Bweinh!tributors.
| Rank | Celebrity | Points | ||
| 1. | Paris Hilton | 22 | ||
| 2. | Rosie O’Donnell | 16 | ||
| 3. | Britney Spears | 9 | ||
| 4. | Andy Dick | 7 | ||
| 5-11 (tie) | Howie Mandel, Hillary Duff, Lindsay Lohan, Madonna, Brian McMahon, Tom Cruise, Carrot Top | 5 | ||
| Other | Terrell Owens, Bono, Fran Drescher, Chris Katan, Bill Walton, Sheryl Crow, Sarah Jessica Parker, Gilbert Gottfried, Jessica Simpson, the Osbournes, Billy Fuccillo, Michael Moore, Angelina Jolie, Barbra Streisand, Jay Leno, Miss J. Alexander, Julia Roberts, Charo, Fred Flinstone, James Cameron | 1-4 |
The Council’s Ruling — Best Meal of the Day
This and every Monday, the Bweinh!tributors, having convened in secret for hours of reasoned debate and consideration, will issue a brief and binding ruling on an issue of great societal import.
This week’s question — What is the best meal of the day?
Job delivers the ruling of the council, joined by Chloe, MC-B, Josh and Tom:
Dinner is the best meal of the day, rarely hurried, and mostly varied.
Josh also concurs in the judgment, joined by David and Steve:
Because it happens after the stress of the work and school day has passed, and provides the best opportunity for the company of friends and family, supper is the best meal of the day.
Djere dissents:
Dessert is the best meal of the day. Pie, ice cream, chocolate, it’s all there, and it usually comes after steak.
Mike took no part in the determination of this issue.
Next week: the best form of transportation!
My mom
This may seem a bit early for Mothers’ Day, which after all is not until Sunday. But my next piece will not come until after the holiday, and then it will seem a bit like leftovers.
So I just wanted to remember and honor my mom today. My mom has always been really good at giving direction to my life.
When I was in high school, I wanted to play basketball. My mom knew that I was not much of a basketball player (even though she was too nice to say so), and she told me that she really thought I’d like to act in the school play more. Of course, I didn’t want to do that and so I slogged through one miserable season of freshman basketball, but the year after that I was acting in plays and I found my niche.
When I was in college, she thought I would really like to go to seminary. I was wrestling with whether to go to grad school for history or to seminary. She helped me to see that if I was going to spend my life studying, it may as well be studying something I felt was of life-or-death importance.
I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing today without my mom, who knew me better than I knew myself as a young person.
How about you? How has your mom shaped your perception of who you are?
Joke of the Day, 5/7/07
Sister Mary burst into the principal’s office at the parochial school in a state of agitation. The priest led her to a chair. “What has you so excited, sister?”
“Well, father,” the nun began, “I was walking to the chapel when I heard a ruckus in the hall!”
“Oh, dear,” said the priest.
“I turned the corner and I found that some of the older boys were wagering money!”
“A serious infraction, indeed!”
“But that’s not what has me so upset, father — it’s WHAT they were wagering on!” The nun’s face reddened. “They were betting on which one could urinate the highest on the wall!”
“What an incredible wager! What did you do then?”
“Well of course I hit the ceiling, father!”
“Really?? How much did you win?!”
Band Winners
Duke Zepho and Soul Clave advance! By the way, as soon as we complete Genesis (which should be the last week of May), we’ll have a playoff poll from among the weekly winners.
And a very happy birthday to Djere (action shot at right)!
Bweinh! Soundtrack — Rich Mullins
Every weekend, a different Bweinh!tributor will discuss a song or songwriter that inspires or interests them. Read the first five soundtrack entries here.
The Day The Music Came Alive Again
It was the mid-’90s. Michael W. Smith had wimped out on national TV, doing everything he could to avoid being seen as a Christian artist. Amy Grant whined in a Good Housekeeping interview about missing all the good parties in college because she was a Christian (this was before she dumped her husband for a country singer). Dion DiMucci followed Bob Dylan’s lead and returned to secular music, Michael English had an affair with the girl from First Call, and Sandy Patty took up with her backup singer. I wasn’t yet mature enough to view these as fallen soldiers on the front lines, so I just despised them all, and called them “Temporary Christian Artists.”
So I turned off the radio, I put away the tapes, and the music died.
All that survived was my wife’s music, which consisted mainly of a whiny guy named Rich Mullins whose tapes droned on endlessly whenever we got in the car. She played it too low for me to hear well, so I just endured it — until one day when I heard the end of Jacob and Two Women and asked my daughter, “What the heck is he talking about? Who stole the moon and must be made to pay for it?”
“I don’t know,” she replied.
“And her friends say ‘My, that’s tragic,’ and she says…’Especially for him…’?”
“Especially for the moon…” My 8-year-old daughter corrected me.
“Oh… especially for the moon. And that’s the world as best as I can remember it? What is with this music your mom lets you listen to?”
She just stared back at me.
She didn’t have any answers either, but together Rachel, Philip and I set out to figure out what that song was about. We never did find out, but we found Rich Mullins, and music meant something to me again. At first it was the beauty of The River, by far the loveliest piece of music I had ever heard. Then it was Jacob and Two Women and Boy Like Me/Man Like You. I was hooked.
And the more I read, the more I found out about Rich himself. He lived what he preached and sang. He never saw his large royalty checks; they went to an independent ministry that paid him only what the average guy in America was making. He sang barefoot in work shirts and blue jeans. He started a group called Kid Brothers of St. Frank, named after Francis of Assisi, where they took an oath of poverty, chastity and the third thing that always goes with those — they lived their faith.
He singlehandedly ended my self-imposed exile from music and gave me back something I had loved and lost.
Clash of the Titans XIX: Electoral College
| In this corner, defending the Electoral College, is Steve! | And in this corner, attacking the Electoral College, is MC-B! | |
|
Like almost everything in the Constitution, the electoral college is brilliant. It is not an outdated relic that keeps power from the people, it is a better way. Its abolition would be tragic. National Perspective And if only total votes mattered, no candidate would EVER visit Idaho, Delaware, Vermont, New Hampshire, Kansas, or any state outside the top eight in population. Don’t California and Texas think highly enough of themselves as it is? The current system forces candidates to concentrate on our most closely divided states — which happen to be the ones most like the country as a whole. Moderate Candidates Federalism Plus, if you thought the Florida recount was bad, imagine that horrific sideshow 50 times over. Fraud would be likely to increase too, if only because of the larger stakes involved. Criticisms? Electors might vote for the wrong candidate, but most electors are party politicians or large contributors now anyway, so it’s not much of a danger. No majority in the College sends the election to the House, but they’re all elected at the same time as the president, so they’re as fair a way as any to break the tie. Does the College reflect the strict will of the people? No — and that’s its best quality! Rather than permitting the danger of simple “majority rule,” our republic is set up specifically to protect our liberty from the power of pure democracy. As Founding Father James Madison wrote in Federalist 10, “democracies have ever been spectacles of turbulence and contention; have ever been found incompatible with personal security or the rights of property; and have in general been as short in their lives as they have been violent in their deaths.” Amen. Let’s leave well enough alone. |
It’s not terrorism, social security, or even ethanol; it’s the Electoral College, an issue whose importance pales in comparison to many serious issues we face. Reforming the Electoral College isn’t so urgent, but it will make America more democratic and preserve the will of the people. The best reason to replace the Electoral College with direct election? It’s more democratic. In 1800, 1824, 1876 and 2000, we didn’t elect the candidate for whom most voters cast their ballot — the candidate who received the most electors won. But maybe this is a good thing. After all, we want candidates who win the national election to have broad support from across the country, not support focused in a few populous areas. Of course, the 2000 electoral map (the most recent election where the popular vote winner was not elected) doesn’t show a broad, national consensus for either leader. It shows a contest pitting the Pacific Coast, New England, the Mid-Atlantic, and the Rust Belt against the South and the Midwest. I’m not an expert on 19th-century electoral politics, but the 2000 example reveals the Electoral College does not necessarily lead to national consensus, but is capable of encouraging state-based regionalism. Similarly, the Electoral College alone does not make politicians consider state-based interests, or even pay them lip service. This conclusion is borne out by statistical analysis — according to a study by George C. Edwards III, only 2 Gore speeches from June to October 2000 focused on particularly state-based interests (a senior drug plan in Florida and the estate tax in Iowa). Bush’s only state-focused speech during that time was in Washington on environmental protection. Since Washington has a greater number of electoral votes (11) than all but 14 others, it hardly fulfills the classic case of a small state that needs protecting against a tyrannical majority. The lack of recent focus on state interests reveals that our current system does not fulfill the ends to which it aspires, regardless of whether these ends are good. As a side note, the idea that states need to be protected through the Electoral College at all is dubious. Small, low-population states still have many other ways to ensure their voices are heard and that their constituents are considered in passing legislation. Even if the Electoral College made state interests more prominent, we might not benefit. Our government is consecrated to serve the people’s interests, rather than its own. Historically, one key vehicle to fulfill and preserve this relationship has been the use of states to aggregate the people’s interests. However, electing the President directly is more logistically feasible today than ever before. To claim states should maintain control in federal elections is to misrepresent the reasons the state was created in the first place: to protect the people from the federal government and ensure their will is represented there. Since states have significantly limited value outside of this role, because the Electoral College has failed to elect the people’s choice in the past, and because the logistical possibility now exists to devolve more power to the people themselves, it would be beneficial to replace the Electoral College system with direct elections. |
Program Error
When I was a senior in high school, I decided to fulfill a few of my remaining elective credit hours by taking a class in computer programming. Halfway through the second quarter, our teacher disappeared and lost his job. He was replaced by perhaps the worst teacher I have ever had on any level.
The heart of the problem was his inability to admit a mistake. Programming is based on mathematical principles that are consistently reproducible — it’s completely objective. One might think this would make it difficult, even impossible, to deny a mistake when the results reveal one, but he found a way. His pride simply could not let him acknowledge he was wrong.
It played out the same way many times over. A friend of mine in the class was more adept than most at noticing mathematical inconsistencies in our assignments — but not very adept at behavioral pattern recognition, as you’ll soon see. The reasonable thing to do seemed to be to alert our teacher to the mistake. It was usually quite minor, a simple mistake, but something that would nonetheless result in a wasted class period and lines and lines of useless code. My friend wanted to save us all that wasted time following the wrong direction.
Our teacher would never even entertain the possibility. He would emphatically tell my friend he had no idea what he was talking about. My friend, certain truth was on his side, would persist, only to draw our teacher’s increased ire. Back and forth they would go until our teacher’s yelling, verbal abuse, and public humiliation reached the point necessary to send my friend slinking back to his seat.
Of course, the man would still have a problem on his hands, since my friend was indeed right, and by the end of the class period everyone would have an incorrect program. So he would wait ten minutes or so, letting everyone go the wrong way, and then he would make an announcement. He had randomly changed his mind about the way he wanted the assignment done. He told us to make an alteration in our figures, the exact change my friend had suggested, as if we hadn’t heard them arguing right in front of us just minutes before. And somehow he did this with a straight face, as a room full of people who had trusted him went back to square one.
This exact scenario played out multiple times, each time with my friend taking the brunt of this man’s arrogant wrath. It didn’t take long for me to decide I just wasn’t going to listen to this so-called educator anymore. When I noticed a mistake, I would simply correct it in my program. I wouldn’t try to convince our teacher; I would do what I knew was right. He had lost all intellectual authority.
One thing he did teach me: effective leadership is understanding that infallibility and credibility are not synonymous — they’re mutually exclusive.
The Wisdom of Peter
If I have learned anything in my sojourn among the Christians of southern Alabama, it is that these folks are proud of their ignorance. They live for any chance to show they know absolutely nothing about the Bible but what comes from sudden inspiration or TBN. I’ve endured the apologetics that accompany this ignorance in many sermons during my time here, and I’ve begun to believe Peter, the ‘ignorant fisherman,’ is their patron saint.
“I don’t need to go to seminary,” they proclaim, “God called me to preach!” (“Seminary” is usually unintentionally mispronounced as ‘seminar’ or intentionally mispronounced as ‘cemetery.’) Another favorite — “I don’t need no master’s degree, I got (pointing heavenward) the Master’s degree!” They make many declarations like these, invariably invoking Peter as the final proof that God places a premium on ignorance. “If God can take an ignorant fisherman like Peter and use him, I reckon (yes, they still use that word here) he can use me.”
Don’t misunderstand me. I understand God takes people the way they are, calls them into his kingdom, and, as we used to say at Faith Fellowship, the calling is the enablement. My contention, though, is that God never lets anyone stay ignorant — and I doubt Peter would fall under anyone’s definition of ignorance anyway.
Peter may have been a fisherman but he was raised as a Jewish boy, trained in the scriptures from a young age. He lived in a region of Judea governed by Rome and Hellenized by the Greeks under Alexander the Great, so he would have spoken Aramaic, Hebrew and Greek at least. He was able to read and write those three languages and also had a passing knowledge of Latin, the legal language of the Roman Empire.
In his first sermon in the book of Acts, Peter quoted Joel and the Psalms. In his second sermon, he references Deuteronomy, Genesis and Psalms, and at the prayer meeting after his release from prison, he quotes from Exodus and Psalms again. In his first epistle he quotes Deuteronomy, Leviticus, Genesis, Daniel, Exodus and Isaiah — in the first chapter. By the end of his second epistle he has shown a grasp of all five books of the Pentateuch, Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Isaiah, Daniel, Ezekiel, Hosea, Jeremiah and Micah. Along the way he demonstrates a working knowledge of baptism, repentance, faith, judgment and many more doctrines than I can enumerate.
If he was ignorant when God called him, which I find doubtful, he sure didn’t stay that way. When I find people who have been saved for 5, 10, 20, or 30 years who still have not read the Bible through and in some way applied themselves to understand it, I find it inexcusable.
Quote of the Day, 5/4/07
“People hate me because I am a multifaceted, talented, wealthy, internationally famous genius.” – Jerry Lewis
Operation Bweinh! Post
I have no idea what to post about this week. None.
Anyway, here are some interesting military projects and operations from the past I’ve been reading about recently.
1. Project Habakkuk — A British plan during WWII to build an aircraft carrier out of ice and wood pulp for North Atlantic combat. The idea was that the construction materials would keep the ship afloat even if it took on water. My question: what were the accommodations like? I can’t imagine it’d be very comfortable to sleep, work, or play in a giant refrigerated ice fortress, even by the Royal Navy’s admittedly low standards of comfort.
2. The New Swabian Expedition — Never to be outdone in ice-related military technology, Germany claimed a large portion of Anarctica as its very own for use in the procurement of whales to kill. No one ever recognized their claim, and Germany largely abandoned the plan. Of course, some will tell you the Third Reich never surrendered New Swabia and so it still lives on. However, these are the same kind of people who would tell you that Hitler himself is still alive and collaborating with the Illuminati and space lizards to take over the world.
3. The Color-Coded War Plans — These operations will be delivered in game format — which countries/regions/empires were the following operations developed against? No cheating!
War Plan Red:
War Plan Orange:
War Plan Yellow:
War Plan Green:
War Plan Indigo:
War Plan Violet:
War Plan Black:
War Plan Citron:
War Plan Silver:
War Plan Gold:
That’s all for now. Thanks for playing along this week; there’ll be more topical stuff next week, hopefully. Imagine this guy telling “yo mama” jokes at 8:30 every Friday morning in a Macroeconomics class and you’ll have a pretty good idea what every day of my semester has been like thus far.
Or at least every Friday morning.
Ask Bweinh! Poll — Ice Cream
Today’s Ask Bweinh! poll comes to you courtesy of the number 4 and the letters D and R.
The favorite ice cream flavors of Bweinh.com appear below!
| Rank | Flavor | Points | ||
| 1. | Mint Chocolate Chip | 15 | ||
| 2. | Vanilla | 14 | ||
| 3-4 (tie) | Chocolate Peanut Butter Cup, Strawberry | 12 | ||
| 5. | Coffee | 11 | ||
| 6. | Black Raspberry | 9 | ||
| 7-8 (tie) | Death by Chocolate, Heavenly Hash | 7 | ||
| 9-10 (tie) | Royal Banana Split Sundae, Rocky Road | 5 | ||
| Other | Cookies and Cream, Black Cherry Chocolate Cheesecake Chill, Triple Fudge Chocolate, Chocolate, Chocolate Almond Chip, Sweet Cream, Peppermint Candy, Pistachio, Holy Cow, Twist, French Silk, Spumante, Cookie Dough | 1-4 |
Cumulative Advantage (Part Two)
Last week, I talked about the randomness inherent in artistic success, like U2 or Harry Potter. The cited experiment concluded that the quality of an artistic work has little to do with its popularity, because what people like “isn’t just what they like — it’s what they think other people like.”
But how far does this principle extend, and what are the most important variables in success?
Obviously it doesn’t apply to every aspect of life. There’s a direct correlation between test performance and success in a class; if you do poorly at work, you’ll soon be out of a job. But what about those things about us that aren’t objectively quantifiable, things like influence and attractiveness? If there’s no concrete way to make judgments about such matters, how are they made?
Return to the sandbox of your youth if you will, an idyllic setting. At your side is your best chum; you’re both playing happily in the sand, you with a truck, your friend with a shovel. Digging in the sand, your friend uncovers a forgotten airplane, buried by the cat, and casts aside with glee the lowly shovel to fly the friendly skies.
Now you want the airplane.
The concept is social proof, the apparently innate desire of sentient beings to habituate their actions to those of their kind. How do you know how to walk, respond to the national anthem, behave at a funeral, or describe the concept of free will? If you think about it, you’ll notice most of your everyday actions, habits and quirks were not your idea originally. You saw, heard or experienced someone else performing them, and now you do, perhaps without even thinking about why. As one psychologist put it, “We view a behavior as correct in a given situation to the degree that we see others performing it.” In layman’s terms, monkey see — monkey do.
Just today, I was stunned to hear that the dowdy Drew Barrymore was named the most beautiful woman by People magazine. Then I saw the cover and thought, “Hey, she’s not as bad as I remembered.”
I quickly snapped back to reality. Drew Barrymore is not even among the top million attractive people in the United States — I was right and People magazine is dead wrong. But my initial doubt was the result of cognitive dissonance. A national magazine said Drew Barrymore is not just attractive, but THE MOST attractive. Doesn’t that mean she is??
Women are attracted to men that (they think) other women are attracted to. Men find a woman more attractive when they learn another man finds her attractive; I could give you hundreds of examples for that. (This is one reason, by the way, that women generally end up with older men — aging frequently has a beneficial impact on male confidence, prestige and maturity, an effect it usually does not have on physical beauty.) Even in social networking groups like those on the Facebook, the growth curve is steady until it reaches the tipping point, when suddenly it seems like “everyone” has joined. Why did one group at my school supporting Virginia Tech grow to 200,000 members, while another virtually indistinguishable group stalled at 400? Because in some very real ways, people are like sheep. And nothing succeeds like success.
I think this insight is freeing. God is in ultimate control of the universe, and I’m not. In fact, it seems I don’t have much influence at all, except to go where He sends me, in the confidence born of a proper understanding of my place in the universe. I will never understand how people work or how God works, what’s the result of chance and what’s the result of skill, how to lie, cheat, talk or gladhand my way to the top.
But that’s okay. Because that’s not what I’m here for anyway.
Joke of the Day, 5/3/07
Three guys are stranded on a desert island and they find a magic lamp with a genie, who grants them each one wish.
The first guy wishes he was off the island and back home. The second guy wishes the same.
The genie gets to the third guy, and he says, “I’m lonely. I wish my friends were back here.”
Battle of the Bands IX
Here’s the newest crop of band names! The best will advance this Saturday.
Bible Discussion — Genesis 33-36
This week, Bweinh.com looks at the next three chapters of the Bible, Genesis 33-36.
Previously in Genesis: 1-4 | 5-9 | 10-14 | 15-18 | 19-22 | 23-26 | 27-29 | 30-32
INTRODUCTION:
Maj. Jones:
I’m Major Doug Jones. My claim to fame which allows me to post as a guest contributor is that I am Josh’s father. I have served Jesus as a Salvation Army officer (pastor) for almost 31 years. I enjoy reading this weekly Bible discussion and hope to share something that will bless others as these bright young minds have been blessing me.
MC-B:
Another Old Testament story, another tale of rapes and massacres but also of the blessings and plans of God.
Steve:
Ups and downs, highs and lows, the book of Genesis has them all, as we see a happy reunion between Jacob and Esau, followed by unnecessary genocide.
Mike:
Jacob has been called back to Bethel. On the way, he has a meeting with Esau that God in his grace makes far more peaceful than it ought to be on the surface. After this, he arrives at Shechem and is tempted to stay there — the land is good and he figures he’s close enough to Bethel. But after his daughter is raped, Simeon and Levi gain revenge, forcing Jacob to leave and go to Bethel, where he meets God again.
David:
This is quite a homecoming for Jacob. God reaffirmed his name change to Israel, he suffered the loss of his wife, the birth of his most precious son, the death of Rebekah’s nurse and the death of his father. Oh, and his daughter gets raped and his sons commit murder. Plus Reuben sleeps with one of his concubines.
SOMETHING YOU’D NEVER NOTICED BEFORE:
Job:
With the feared coming of Esau, Jacob placed his wives and children in order of favoritism, with Rachel and Joseph in the safest position.
Tom:
Jacob starts off chapter 31 by hiding behind a bulwark of handmaids, wives, and children until Esau and his 400 men were close enough for Jacob to tell if his gifts of livestock had succeeded in pacifying the horde. What a little weasel.
Josh:
When Isaac called Esau in chapter 27 for his final blessing, it was largely because he felt his death would come soon. He certainly seemed pretty far gone — he couldn’t even recognize his own son. But in chapter 35 we learn Isaac survived the entire time Jacob was gone, a period spanning no less than twenty years.
Maj. Jones:
Running from Esau in chapter 28, Jacob ran into God at Bethel with his dream of the ladder. Now God has brought him back to Bethel to change his name to Israel.
Mike:
The random reference to Reuben sleeping with his father’s concubine, Bilhah.
MC-B:
Again, I only remember this story vaguely. How long until we get to Jonah and the whale?
Ouch. That long, huh?
Steve:
It’s quite clear that regardless of their bad decisions, Shechem loved Dinah very much. And interestingly, the author of Genesis refers to him as “more honorable than all the household of his father,” making Simeon and Levi’s behavior even worse.
David:
Rebekah’s nurse is travelling with Jacob, his mother’s nurse. She must have been of great age and great character to choose to sojourn with Jacob.
Displace Me
Last weekend I was displaced. I left my home in Houghton, NY, to live on the Mall in Washington, DC in a cardboard box covered by a tarp. I had nothing but a bottle of water, a package of saltines, a sleeping bag and the clothes on my back.
Fifty Houghton students went with me. We traveled by bus, Metro, and foot to get to the camp, which was supposed to house 5,000 people. Once there, we signed in, had our pictures taken and our food and water confiscated. The people in charge told us to claim a plot of land in the chaos of so many people setting up. They promised that at some point in the evening food and water would be allocated to us. We hadn’t eaten since mid-morning.
We found a place to build our huts on the outermost edge of the land. We were afraid of bandits, so we assigned guards to watch over our meager belongings while others built our shanty. We soon found that the cardboard we brought wasn’t nearly enough, but made do, knowing the night would be cold and we would want other people near us. We were given food and water at 10 pm, twelve hours after we had last had anything to eat or drink. But we knew better than to wolf our food down. It was all we would have until the afternoon of the next day.
I was displaced for only one night. I went home the next day and enjoyed a big lunch, a hot shower and a soft, warm bed. Not so for over one million people in Uganda.
“For the past 21 years, a war has been waged between the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) and the Ugandan government . . . Ten years ago in a failed effort to protect its people, the Ugandan government forcibly evicted its Northern citizens from their homes–giving them 48 hours to relocate into camps that lack adequate security and insufficient provisions for survival. Today more than 1.5 million northern Ugandans remain far from secure, suffering nearly 1,000 deaths per week due to the inhumane living conditions.”
In Uganda, there seems to be no end to the starvation, disease, and entrapment that comes with being displaced. They are powerless, which is why I and 70,000 other people around the country chose to displace ourselves to let the United States and Ugandan governments know that we want change.
Quote of the Day, 5/2/07
“If a child shows himself to be incorrigible, he should be decently and quietly beheaded at the age of twelve, lest he grow to maturity, marry, and perpetuate his kind.” – D. Marquis
Focus on the Fancy-Free Vol. 1 — What to Wear to Church
Q. What should a young bachelor wear to church?
A. When I wore a younger man’s Chuck Taylor All-Stars, my mother always dressed me for church. Clip-on ties, penny loafers and “stick-um” (hair gel) were the ingredients in my preparation for Sunday worship. My father was the pastor of our church in Washington D.C., and as a good preacher’s son, it was impossible for me to wear my usual Ocean Pacific in the pews.
But now I’m 27, and while my mom wishes she could still dress me, I’m an adult and she can’t. I’ve morphed into what our society might call “offbeat” — I wear a lot of denim, often hold my long hair in place with a bandanna, and sport shirts with paint and other stains whose origin I have long since forgotten. I don’t roll into church looking homeless, but I certainly don’t look ready for court.
Basically on Sunday, I look like I do the other six days of the week. I know this offends some people, and the instinct in such situations is to remedy that offense as quickly as possible by taking the time to noose up a tie and tuck in a clean white shirt. But I love these people I offend, so I won’t gratify their sinful nature. That’s right. I’m calling all of you smirkers and sighers out.
It doesn’t matter a mite what I wear to church; deal.
Pressure to dress up for church is one of those elements of Christianity that has taken on Scriptural authority while actually running contrary to the Word; it’s more about humanity than Godliness. Peter wrote, “Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.” (1 Peter 3:3-4)
Immodesty is not just reserved for outfits that expose or enhance; I think carefully coiffed hair in concert with dry-cleaned dresses and suits trots the border with sinful ambition. The generic defense is that it shows respect to God, which offends my intelligence because you want to show man you have respect for God. That’s vanity.
“So, Job, you would dress up for a wedding but not for worship in the house of God?”
Eight days a week. Dressing up for those instances is part of a societal expectation, exactly the thing I don’t want in my worship. I want to be comfortable, modest and undistracted. If you’re concerned by what you’re wearing and/or distracted by what others are wearing, then — I’ll say it — your heart is not in the right place. I own ties, clean shirts and slacks (thanks Mom!) but in a society that expects this from me in social gatherings, it should be in church that I feel the least pressure to please men with color coordination and smart, flattering lines.
And, well . . . I rebuke thee.
These questions and answers are from the book Complete Young Adult Home Reference Guide and Recipe Compendium, published by Bweinh! Job Tate is founder and chairman of the board of Focus on the Fancy-Free, a nonprofit organization devoted to the encouragement and preservation of the unmarried twentysomething. His weekly radio program was heard on 1 radio station in the U.S. and Canada.
Clash of the Titans XVIII: Fighting in Hockey
| In this corner, arguing against fighting in hockey, is Mike! | And in this corner, arguing for fighting in hockey, is Dave! | |
|
Hey, I have an idea. You know hockey? That sport with the small base of rabid fans? What a sport it is! Such speed, as players fly down the ice; such grace, as the best players weave in and out and around defenders on their way to the net; such precision, as the best shooters pick their spot and put it in the one area the goalie can’t reach; such power, as the best shooters wind up for 100 MPH slapshots that nearly tear the back of the net. Which brings me to my idea. Let’s clog the ice with goons! Let’s take that sport, with such a unique combination of athleticism and grace, and let’s make sure every team has at least one guy whose job it is to go out and fight the other team’s one guy. Let’s make sure that the fast, exciting guys (many of whom are from another culture) cower in fear that they might get knocked in the head while Western fans nod appreciatively at the Russian getting his due at long last! Let’s be sure that head shots stay legal and that at least once every game there is a fight with at least one player caught in the flattering “jersey-stuck-over-my-face” pose! Why would anyone want to watch Sergei Federov or Simon Gagne or Sidney Crosby or Daniel Briere, with their crisp passing and deadly accurate shooting, when we could watch Todd Fedoruk or Colton Orr mangle each other for a while? Further, let’s make fighting part of an “unwritten code” so that it’s cloaked in romanticism! A near-apocalypse would happen if a dozen (coincidentally?) mostly black NBA players cleared the benches and brawled; lengthy suspensions would result and white America would cluck their tongues at how bad the NBA’s getting. But if we have a “code” for mostly white players to live by, with consequences like getting your teeth knocked out, then suddenly it’s quaint! We can say it’s just part of the game, always has been, and always should be. Hey — Hammurabi had a code! So should we. What would hockey be without the fighting? Speed, agility, grace, precision, drama? Who would ever watch that? |
I am here to defend the use of Goons in hockey. If you don’t know what a Goon is, let me explain. He’s the guy who lumbers off the bench and pulverizes the opponent who dares to initiate, or even attempt to initiate, some type of painful contact with a hockey team’s “skilled” players. A skilled player, of course, has a Russian, Swedish or Finnish name and the same size uniform and skates as the Goon wore in Pee Wee hockey. I know that the usual tack would be for me to cite the Code, that unwritten (yet often written about) set of laws that serve as the rules of engagement for Goons. I would explain to you that skilled players are valuable assets who need protection and explain how deterrence necessitates fisticuffs — like a safety leveling a wide receiver who catches a pass across the middle, you do it so they think twice the next time they think about doing something they shouldn’t. But I’m going in a different direction — economic concern. For the Goons. Here’s the question to consider — what else can these guys do for a living? These are not, as one athlete has said, “the brightest tools in the shed.” These people have struggled to learn human speech and have even found a meaningful way to contribute to society that (usually) doesn’t involve violent crime. Why turn them out? And Goons are entertaining! During a tense playoff game several years ago between the Flyers and Devils, noted Goon Claude Lemieux (my spell check offers lummox here) was trash talking Flyers captain Eric Desjardins. After a particular rush ended with a Desjardins shot rather than a pass, Lemieux taunted him with the remark, “You always think about yourself first! What does that ‘C’ on your shirt stand for? SELFISH?” And then we have Bernie “Boom-Boom” Geoffrion’s now-famous words of wisdom to his Montréal teammates before a big game: “Three things we must do tonight, and that is shoot and pass.” Where else can the world use men like this? Burger King? Wal*Mart? Sure, but these places seem to have enough imbeciles already, and if they were also huge and muscular, I couldn’t make fun of them anymore. We need to keep fighting in the NHL — to keep Goons employed and off the streets. |
Joke of the Day, 5/1/07
What’s the difference between a Harley and a Hoover?
The position of the dirtbag!
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- Bible Discussion — Ephesians 3-4
- That’s Some Great Police Work
- One Hundred Words (47)
- Quote of the Day, 2/20/09
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- Quote of the Day, 2/18/09
- Three Links (Vol. 19)
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