Ask Bweinh! Poll — Donuts

02/25/2008, 10:00 am -- by | 1 Comment

Today’s Ask Bweinh! poll is brought to you by the letter W and the number 8.

And Desenex.

The most delicious donuts in the world appear below!! Or, at least, their names.

Rank Donuts Points
1. Apple Cider 19
2. Chocolate Glazed 12
3. Boston Creme 10
4-5 (tie) Peanut; Powdered Cinnamon 8
6-7 (tie) Apple Fritter; Krispy Kreme Glazed 7
8-12 (tie) Devil’s Food; Long John w/yellow custard; Vanilla Frosted; Cream; Custard-filled 5
Other Orange Glazed; Blueberry; Cinnamon Roll; Toasted Coconut; Bismarck; Chocolate Sprinkle; Sour Cream Glazed; Chocolate Cake; Maple Walnut; Chocolate and Vanilla; Maple Frosted; Jelly; Powdered Sugar; Glazed; Chocolate Creme; Lemon; Plain Cake 1-4

 

Joke of the Day, 2/25/08

02/25/2008, 7:00 am -- by | No Comments

What do you call a judge with no thumbs?

Justice Fingers!

Clash of the Titans LXXI: White Meat v Dark Meat

02/24/2008, 12:00 am -- by | 7 Comments

In this corner, backing white meat, is Job!

 And in this corner, arguing for dark meat, is Connie!

On a Thanksgiving day a few years ago, my brother Joel slaughtered, scalded, plucked and then deep fat fried two ducks, to serve as our turkey proxy. They were good ducks, by all accounts, well-bred, well-fed and extremely well-cared for. They were cooked well and thoroughly. There was nothing suspect about their life or culinary preparation…but they were doomed from the minute they were born, because ducks are all dark meat.

The time spent between conception and parsley was merely spent building up to my disappointment. I blame cinema and literature for instilling in me a sense of awe concerning duck: that it was a sort of Everest of edibles. In fact, duck is oily, salty, fatty and overwhelmingly underwhelming. I ate the duck, I tried to appreciate the duck, I smiled and said I liked the duck. But my soul gobbled for the unhyped, protein-infused, and profusely healthier heaps of white meat a turkey offers.

White meat is not only healthier, easier to handle, and not disgusting — but it complements, and is complemented by, other foods. It doesn’t demand a stage all to itself, but instead favors a team effort in pleasing your palate. From gravy to casseroles to cold sandwiches to soups, white meat knows how to delegate.

Now, don’t get me wrong — I’m a bachelor. I’ve eaten my fair share of dark meat and I will eat it again. I’m not prejudiced against any food, and my stomach is the Ellis Island of your kitchen. Give me your fried, your baked, your raw; give me your tarts that pop, your topping of melted cheese. I don’t care. But as a proverbial immigration officer stamping the papers of the aliens seeking entrance to the new world of my tummy, I can discern those that stand a chance of climbing the menu ladder, and those doomed to spend their lives as esoteric members of an old cookbook. The forgotten. The undesirable.

Thus is dark meat. It is, as a fact, edible, but it is not mainstream. It is not everyday. It is, my friends, the dreaded entity that is an acquired taste. If you either prefer dark meat, or are one of those souls who say they do, so they can be different, I actually don’t wish to dissuade you. Your contributions to the Thanksgiving meal — throwing yourself on the grenade of that greasy mess on the other side of the platter — only serves to distribute the wealth of white meat among those who know that it is the vehicle to a truly satisfying and diversified meal.

Dark meat? You’re dead to me.

Unless you’re free.

There are few things I enjoy more than roasted chicken. My favorite way of preparing my bird is my crock pot, but be careful! Overcooking makes her fall apart, which is fine for Kickin’ Chicken Soup, but not if you want to enjoy the actual chicken pieces with the bones still attached. I like to put a whole orange or a peeled onion into the cavity of my bird while it’s cooking, then season it with an herb mix called Citrus Grill.

Within minutes I’m carving away — carefully putting the boring, tasteless white meat on one side of the platter, and the juicy, flavorful darker portions on the other. I’ve always preferred the dark meat because of the flavor, and it’s not just limited to the meat family. I also like darker versions of gravies, breads, ice creams (Friendly’s Chocolate Almond Chip!), rice, even milk — and of course chocolate. White chocolate is simply disgusting!

I’ve heard all of the stories about how dark meat contains more fat, but for years, I’ve been singing the old song, “If loving you is wrong, then I don’t wanna be right.” And now, I’ve been vindicated — as you shall see from my research. By the way, that research says red meat belongs in the the dark meat family, so a vote for the pasty white stuff is a vote against the good old American Porterhouse!

The primary reason dark meat has been labeled bad — besides the political agenda — is saturated fat content. Unfortunately, the general public was considered too dumb to understand the difference between saturated fats and other fats. I cannot accept that. Dark meats simply have more myoglobin proteins, the magic stuff that ships oxygen to the muscle cells; they need them to transfer oxygen more efficiently to the muscles. Muscles which are used more frequently become dark. This is why non-flying poultry drumsticks are dark meat, while breast meat is white.

Dark meats tend to contain more zinc, riboflavin, niacin, thiamin, vitamins B6 and B12, amino acids, iron than white meats. Chicken dark meat contain vitamins A, K, B6, B12, niacin, folate, pantothenic acid, minerals as selenium, phosphorus and zinc. Even the fats in most of the dark meats have healthy parts; they contain Omega-3 and Omega-6 fatty acids, and other ‘healthy’ fats. Now take a look at the fat content of that bowl of morning cereal twigs with a cup of organic milk. I will take my steak on a grill with some wood chips, thank you. Preferably with Djere grilling.

Meat Calories Fat Protein
Breast w/skin 194 8 29
Breast, skinless 161 4 30
Wing w/skin 238 13 27
Leg w/skin 213 11 28
Dark meat w/skin 232 13 27
Dark meat, skinless 192 8 28

{democracy:217}

Looking Back

02/22/2008, 4:00 pm -- by | 1 Comment

Do you have a desire to dig up the Holy Land in search of artifacts from Biblical times? It can happen; there are at least a few organizations willing to take people as inept as you and me along to the ruins of 2nd-century Roman inns, and let us flail about in the dirt in search of priceless buried treasure. It works, too. Past visitors have uncovered royal seals, an ancient marriage contract — and tons of pottery.

Pottery, say the archaeologists, is “the plastic of the ancient world. It’s everywhere, and it’s impossible to destroy.”

When I first read this description, it reminded me of how hard it is to identify what will survive beyond our years in this world — and how ignorant we are of the everyday lives of those who have gone before us. For all our archaeological efforts and imaginative estimations, you and I can never — EVER — know even remotely what it was like to wake up and live as king or servant in the house of David of Jerusalem. Or Henry VIII of London. Or (as our oldest sadly slip away) Woodrow Wilson of Washington, leader during the first World War.

One of the most important recordings in the history of radio was made by Washington, DC station WJSV in September 1939. Before the era of audiotape, the station simply recorded its entire broadcast day. 18 full hours of radio, heard exactly as they were that fall day.

Part of the draw of this material is how unique it is. You can read books about World War II; you can fortunately still talk to those who lived through it; you can try to grasp and understand it in your mind. But when you close your eyes and listen to this radio station, you are transported 70 years back in time. In one small yet fascinating way, this recording recreates the experience of what it was like to live in America in 1939. We think that if we had more — a diary of life in historic times, a video of our grandparents’ first Christmas together — we might come to understand the past, to overcome the great gulf fixed by death.

These days, we have videotape and audiotape in countless formats, computers and cameras that save more information about us than we will ever know. Almost nothing disappears. Vast stores of data on almost anyone is available at the click of a mouse. The ephemera of our civilization stacks up around us, fills up our hard drives like shards of pottery on the floor of a Mediterranean cave.

My father was born in the second half of the last century, and yet the records I have seen of his childhood are only sparse pictures and silent videos. My children will have access to exponentially more information about me — and their lives, if representative of this generation, will be nearly transparent, at least to those they choose to trust.

WJSV’s tape and the royal seals of Israel gain value because they are scarce. Even an otherwise unremarkable letter, after centuries and the decay of all its kin, becomes a treasure. But self-reflection is the modern pottery. No one will ever have to wonder how a teenager of the 21st century felt, and I think, on balance, that this is probably a bad thing. What can be learned from the spoiled and self-absorbed, who treat the most amazing development in human history as nothing more than another way to draw attention to themselves? Just because the Internet gives you the opportunity to speak to the world doesn’t mean you are worthy to be heard.

I believe that the archaeologists of our future, if they even bother to unearth millions of self-centered blogs and Facebook pages overloaded with the permanence of our cultural effluvia, might take, as their most valuable lesson, a clearer understanding of the ancient Hebrew teacher.

“There is nothing new under the sun.”

Quote of the Day, 2/22/08

02/22/2008, 7:00 am -- by | 1 Comment

“The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don’t.” — D. Adams

Confounding Conservatives and Christians

02/21/2008, 12:30 pm -- by | 6 Comments

Michael Hiestand has a column in Monday’s USA Today that offers commentary on what happened in TV sports over the weekend. It’s broken down into various little blurbs, and Charles Barkley was the subject of one snippet this week.

Commenting on his plan to run for Alabama governor in 2014, Barkley said, “Every time I hear the word ‘conservative,’ it makes me sick to my stomach, because they’re really just fake Christians.” After comparing Barkley’s comments with the recent blatantly anti-Christian remarks made by Dana Jacobson — and noting her two week suspension — Hiestand observes that Barkley “doesn’t seem to be saddled with any limits” regarding his on-air comments. Hiestand seems to note an incongruity, but the real incongruity is actually created by his comments.

Barkley made comments about conservatives, not Christians; Jacobson insulted Christians, Barkley insulted conservatives. If I call a man a fat pig, I am insulting the man, not the pig. The fact that people view these two terms as interchangeable — confounding the two to our detriment — is one of my chief concerns with the conservative movement.

We Christians are in danger of allowing ourselves to be defined by a political movement. We are no longer known for our steadfast adherence to the Apostles’ Creed so much as to the Conservative Party line. We must hate immigrants and love firearms; we must view every increased function of government as intrusive and unnecessary; we are sworn to demand that taxes always be lowered and never raised — even in the face of a costly war and a burgeoning military that we are sworn to hold fast as an inalienable right.

Suddenly we are not conservatives, and thereby not really Christians, if we think that healthcare has become so outrageously expensive that it is impossible to afford — and so perhaps a national healthcare plan is needed. Apparently, a man cannot possibly be a Christian while supporting amnesty for illegal immigrants, or tighter controls on firearms, like those used in at least four school shootings over the last ten days across America.

It seems a man can’t be conservative, and thereby Christian, unless he supports an amendment to the Constitution banning gay marriage. But one can oppose homosexuality without being in favor of altering the Constitution every time someone burns a flag or marries a — homosexual.

Rather than insulting Christians, perhaps Barkley was actually serving as an apologist, a defender of the faith, helping the world to see that the two things are not so interchangeable as they seem.

Ask Bweinh! Poll — Animals to Eat

02/21/2008, 10:00 am -- by | No Comments

Today’s Ask Bweinh! poll is brought to you by our hosting company, whose reliability I have never before had cause to question, but who is walking a dangerous line indeed.

Need help choosing an animal to eat? Here’s the list!

Rank Animals Points
1. Cow 42
2. Chicken 34
3. Pig 28
4. Shrimp 16
5. Turkey 10
6-7 (tie) Crab; Emu 5
8-9 (tie) Mussel; Ant 4
10-11 (tie) Codfish; Quail 3
Other Deer; Elk; Scallops; Fish; Duck; Tilapia; Rabbit 1-2

 

Joke of the Day, 2/21/08

02/21/2008, 7:00 am -- by | No Comments

Two potatoes were sitting on a fence, shooting the breeze, when one toppled off and landed directly on his head. The other quickly summoned help, and the fallen spud was taken off to the potato hospital, with his worried companion following close behind.

The next day, after a long night of surgery, the potato doctor came out to speak with the friend.

“I have good news and bad news,” the doctor began. “The good news is that your friend is going to survive. But he’s going to be a vegetable for the rest of his life.”

Battle of the Bands XLVI

02/20/2008, 1:00 pm -- by | No Comments

Here are the next batch of band names from Luke (Hidden Light moves on!)

{democracy:216}

Bible Discussion — Luke 9

02/20/2008, 1:00 pm -- by | No Comments

This week, Bweinh.com looks at the next chapter of Luke, Luke 9.

Genesis: 1-4 | 5-9 | 10-14 | 15-18 | 19-22 | 23-26
27-29 | 30-32 | 33-36 | 37-39 | 40-43 | 44-46 | 47-50
Exodus: 1-4 | 5-8 | 9-11 | 12-14 | 15-18
19-22 | 23-26 | 27-30 | 31-34 | 35-40
Romans: Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 (I)
Ch. 8 (II) | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 | Ch. 15-16
Luke: 1:1-38 | 1:39-2:40 | 2:41-3:38 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

 
INTRODUCTION:
Connie:
This is a lot of material — sending out the disciples on a missions trip, feeding the 5,000, deliverance ministry issues, prophetic proclamations of his death and the transfiguration. There was a lot going on here, and I cannot imagine trying to keep up with Jesus in these days.

 
SOMETHING YOU’D NEVER NOTICED BEFORE:
Josh:
Before Jesus fed the 5,000, he instructed the disciples to divide the people into groups of 50. I guess even miracles need a little organization.

Chloe:
I wonder if the feeding of the 5,000 happened directly after the disciples got back from preaching and healing for a reason. If it were me, I would be thinking I was pretty talented by now: “Yeah, I cast out at least a hundred demons, and this kid with this huge tumor on his leg is playing football now, and…”

But then Jesus told the disciples to feed the 5,000, and they couldn’t. Jesus had to do it. I can hear the disciples thinking, “Oh, yeah. He’s the one who made it possible for me to do that, not me.”

Steve:
John, perhaps Jesus’ closest disciple, and one whose later writings showed the deep and abiding work of love in his heart, is the same guy who follows up Jesus’ object lesson about welcoming children and the least being greatest with a parochial boast about fighting an ally! Verse 50 is another that should be committed to the minds of all Christians, especially those with tendencies to believe that they have hit on the one ‘best way.’

Connie:
I never noticed that when word started spreading of Jesus’ fame and works, everyone began to put it into a box, or form, that they could understand. Elijah they had heard of; John they had seen, or at least knew someone who had. So they saw Jesus as another Elijah or John. They didn’t have the faith — or didn’t want to have the faith — to seek Him out for who He really was. Especially Herod — I imagine he was just getting his pot ready to wash his hands of the whole matter.

 
BEST BAND NAME FROM THE PASSAGE:
Josh: The Twelve
Connie: Five Loaves and Two Fishes
Steve: Tetrarch; Keep it to Yourself

Continued here!

The Depression Epidemic

02/20/2008, 10:30 am -- by | 4 Comments

Several friends have told me that they’re depressed these last few weeks. Symptoms have ranged from not feeling like doing homework, to not wanting to get out of bed, to avoiding other people at all costs. Most attribute their sadness to the fact that the sun hasn’t shown its face more than twice in the past three weeks. We’re in the lull before break right now, when everything is cold and white and icy, and a day consists of getting up, doing schoolwork, then going back to bed. In other words, this too shall pass, and soon.

But these conversations, combined with how many people I know who are medicated for clinical depression, has sparked me to question what might be causing an apparent epidemic of depression.

The National Institute of Mental Health reports that 18.8 million American adults suffer from depression, two-thirds of whom are women. Depressed Americans make up 6.2% of our population. This may not seem like a staggering statistic, the idea that 6 of every 100 people has depression, but that statistic is talking about clinical depression. It doesn’t include brief bouts of melancholy, or the type of depression that hits you with a razor blade and leaves you smiling and sunny six months later. The World Health Organization estimates that 15% of the world’s population has a depressive episode in a given year (which could range from two weeks to a full year). That’s 990 million depressed people. 990,000,000.

So there are the staggering statistics. Now I’ll introduce something that will sound entirely unrelated. I’m doing research on self-consciousness right now, and one study I came across tested boredom proneness (yes, they’re related, but it would take another article to explain how). Boredom proneness has, in several studies, been linked with depression.

I’ve found nothing that states which is the cause and which is the effect, but here’s my hypothesis: we as Americans are bored because of how used to being entertained we are. As a result, we have trouble finding interest in everyday life, and on some level we believe that our lives are unfulfilled, perhaps because they don’t look like television lives. Why should we get out of bed? What new and exciting thing will happen?

And again, we have lost our ingenuity, our ambition to create new and exciting ways to live life — because we can live on a mysterious island on Thursday night, and be the next top model or superstar any day of the week. All we have to do is turn on the TV. But the show always ends, and none of it is real. Is it any wonder that we are bored and depressed?

An important point I must make is that I don’t think boredom causes depression across the board. Sometimes depression comes from childhood abuse or trauma in one’s life, and sometimes it’s a chemical imbalance. The frustrating thing is that so little is known about the chemical aspect of depression that no definitive hypothesis can be formed. We can only tinker with dosages until a medication seems to work, while we play connect-the-dots with cause-effect relationships in research.

The thing that perplexes me is the sheer number of people suffering with bouts of depression (not clinical depression). Surely that isn’t common! Surely men and women haven’t suffered mind-numbing sadness like this since the beginning of time! I mean, I don’t deny that it’s possible. However, I suppose that when you had to run a farm to feed your family, you didn’t have the choice to think about how you didn’t see the point in getting out of bed. But that’s just speculation.

This is the part in the article when I provide some concise conclusion, or offer some advice on where to go from here, what we can do to alleviate the epidemic. I, of course, have no solutions. I only have hypotheses and questions and an urgency that something should be done. But I’ve found that often the best way to find a solution is to talk to people and get other opinions. So comment or email me your thoughts.

Quote of the Day, 2/20/08

02/20/2008, 7:00 am -- by | No Comments

“In all things it is better to hope than to despair.” — J.W. von Goethe

Clash of the Titans LXX: Oprah

02/19/2008, 1:00 pm -- by | 3 Comments

In this corner, arguing on the side of Oprah, is Mike!

 And in this corner, arguing against her power, is Josh!

It’s easy to hate on Oprah. Oprah is generally blamed, perhaps rightly, for perpetuating a sort of pseudo-religion, a stand-in for the Gospel, if you will. She promotes self-help books like The Secret that promote un-Christian (and downright wacky) ideas, and darn it, she’s just more successful and has more money than the rest of us.

Yet amid all the derision, we often forget the remarkable good Oprah has done. I’m not simply talking about her new South African school or other big donations, important though those are. I’m talking about a far greater accomplishment.

I’m talking about the fact that I have been in many gatherings of white women, my grandmother’s age, talking about a black woman seriously. Some of these women are quite liberal, while some put the fun in fundamentalist, but none of them grew up in a culture where African-American women were accorded respect. And yet, here they are, talking about her last show, reminiscing about great interviews in the past, forming an emotional bond with a black woman. Astonishing.

Is the emotional bond with Oprah perfect and praiseworthy? Probably not. It’s arguably not even real; you could argue white people love to have pseudo-relationships with African-Americans who remain safely behind television screens and stereo speakers. But you have to admit that it is something, given where we have been as a nation, that ladies of privilege–young and old–dab their tears and share their smiles with a woman of color born into hard Mississippi poverty and raised in a ghetto.

Oprah’s not a messiah; but let’s celebrate the significant inroads she has helped to make in the racial arena.

Let me start by saying that I’m not the type to begrudge anyone the opportunity or ability to become rich, famous, and influential. So I’m not here to hate on Oprah just because she’s probably the most powerful woman (person?) in the world.

I also think it’s great that she’s so philanthropic, even if that is part of her shtick. For what it’s worth, I’m sure it’s mostly genuine, even if it is undeniably crucial to her own future success.

But when it comes to the hero worship of the big O, I just don’t get it. Other than going on several semi-successful diets and giving away more cars than Bob Barker, what has she done that’s all that impressive? I mean, besides all that charity work. More to the point, what has she done for me?

I guess what really bothers me isn’t so much that everyone else takes her so seriously, but that she does as well. A couple years ago, she rubber-stamped James Frey’s memoir as a best seller by recommending it to her lemmings via her all powerful book club. When it later came out that Frey was a fraud, he was summoned back to the show for a good whuppin’. How dare he lie to Oprah… er, I mean, to the people? He threatened her credibility… um, I mean, betrayed millions!

In the end, I simply find the Oprah entity to be vapid, but probably no more so than everything else on TV. Considering what she’s up against in the daytime lineup, I suppose it’s no wonder she’s emerged as the people’s champion.

{democracy:215}

Java 101

02/19/2008, 10:30 am -- by | 2 Comments

On Saturday I probably spent the better part of an hour in one print center or another on the Houghton campus. They’ve put one in the library now, which allows one to effectively hermit oneself away there for hours upon hours upon days at a time. (Perhaps days takes it a bit far, but hyperbole is a perfectly acceptable literary device, as far as I’m concerned.) The other, more commonly used (and crowded) print center is in the basement of the Campus Center, right next to Java 101, the closest thing in Allegany County to a Starbucks.

Last night I got a coffee from a Buffalo Starbucks with my ministry team buddies and, although it was quite the delicious mint mocha frap, I got the feeling that I always get when I drink coffee-confections outside of Java 101: I am a little bit homesick.

Perhaps a bit of further explanation is warranted. My freshman year, I had vowed that coffee should ne’er cross my lips, that I would remain unaddicted to caffeine, that I hadn’t the money to waste on drinking water strained through ground legumes (ok…so I don’t know if the cacao bean is a legume).

All this changed one late night during a Cultural Anthropology paper, but that was as much my fault for giving into Chloe’s French Press-made hazelnut deliciousness as anything else. And that became a Java 101 caramel macchiato. And that became a few pounds of Schuill’s from Grand Rapids, MI. And that became the cold hard fact: the coffee machine in our townhouse belongs to yours truly.

Setting my love for (good!) coffee aside — the reason I brought up Java 101 is to discuss how a place can have such a deep meaning for me. Recent conversations have brought to my attention that I tend to value places for themselves — even if what I’ve come to love about them is solely based on experiences I have had there, or people I met there.

Java is a prime example. My good experiences there include reading numerous letters while munching blueberry muffins (courtesy of Houghton College Church Relations), and really thinking all was right with the world. I’ve written several espresso-fueled papers on the little breakfast bar, my feet kicking in a rhythm much faster than my thoughts seem to move.

The Lanthorn literary journal coffeehouse readings/concerts, live music, my first exposure to Regina Spektor, excellent conversation dates, salsa contests — all of these contribute to my feeling homesick for a place where the coffee isn’t always the best, the baristas are sometimes rather awkward, and where, if I’m not careful, I’ll get Brit-wittily insulted a few times during the 11 a.m. hour by Dr. Pearse (Java is a favorite haunt of his at this time, as well).

It might be nostalgia, or rose-colored glasses, or whatever silly feminine attachment you might identify: I simply can’t tell the difference. But I do know that for quite a while, when I think of a good coffeeshop, the image that will pop into my mind is of Java 101.

Joke of the Day, 2/19/08

02/19/2008, 7:00 am -- by | No Comments

Two older women were out collecting for charity one afternoon when they came to the house of an infamous miser. Praying under their breath, they knocked on the door and smiled as the man opened it.

“Hello, sir, we’re here to ask you to give to the Foundation for Chil –”

“You want ME to donate money to you?!,” the man thundered.

“Why, yes,” one woman squeaked. “We should all take care of those less fortunate.”

“Less fortunate?,” he yelled in reply. “I’ll tell you a thing or two about the less fortunate! I have a mother who is blind and shivering in a home for the aged! I have a sister with four young, fatherless children that desperately need to eat! I have a brother who lost his legs in a die press, a cousin who was mauled by bears, and two adult sons with palsy of the hands! I know all about the less fortunate!”

The ladies were stunned. “We — we didn’t know,” one said.

The man continued. “And if I don’t give money to any of them, what makes you think I’d give any to you??”

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