Quote of the Day, 8/11/08

08/11/2008, 7:00 am -- by Bweinh | No Comments

“Taking in my opponent’s performances is a little like watching a big summer blockbuster, and an hour in, realizing that all the best scenes were in the trailer you saw last fall.” — J. McCain

Clash of the Titans LXXXVI: The Olympic Games

08/8/2008, 12:00 pm -- by Bweinh | 4 Comments

In this corner, opposing the Olympics, is Kaitlin!

And in this corner, supporting them, is Steve!

An honest, dispassionate evaluation of the Olympics, stripped of hype and emotionalism, will garner little more than distaste and disillusionment. “The Games have always brought people together in peace to respect universal moral principles,” declares the International Olympic Committee website. And yet the Olympic Games have been fraught with scandal, politicization, and shamefully extravagant spending. Those are, I suppose, universal principles, but perhaps not the ones the IOC means to evoke.

The 1952 Olympics, highly charged with Cold War hostilities, did little more than inflame already tense relations. “There were many more pressures on American athletes because of the Russians,” said U.S. decathlon winner Bob Mathias. “They were in a sense the real enemy. You just loved to beat ”˜em. You just had to beat ”˜em. . . . This feeling was strong down through the entire team.”

The 1976 Olympics resulted in financial ruin for host city Quebec. The debt they incurred took decades to pay off. The Nazis, during the 1936 Berlin Olympics, hoped to establish their country as a superpower by exhibiting their superiority. China\’s goals are much the same this year in Beijing.

Other inevitable consequences of the Olympics, both present and past: championing an ethos of winning at all costs, even if the costs include a foreshortened childhood or lifelong physical effects; xenophobia, especially if Americans win less and economically threatening countries win more; poor stewardship of both environmental and social resources.

Moreover, the Olympic Games throw into sharp relief the drastic differences in advantages of rich and poor countries. Between the commercial sponsors and the unavoidably constant testing of the human body to see how far it can go, the Olympics are practically just a giant, corporately backed, international science experiment.

To truly embody the spirit the IOC wishes to spread throughout the world, athletes should compete on a purely individual level, regardless of their nations of birth. By forgoing nationalistic divisions, the IOC might do much in the way of their cherished unity. Furthermore, the Games should be completely privatized. As Stephen Hugh-Jones wrote in More Intelligent Life, “If private sector companies choose to sponsor the Olympics, that\’s up to them. But why on earth hurl public funds at these tarnished saturnalia?”

I love the Olympic Games. In ’06, I watched as much as I could, filling up old videotapes with hours of skiing, skating, and the euphonious luge. I studied with the Games in the background, the hum of competition spurring me on to a more perfect knowledge of the UCC.

I freely admit that the Games suffer from corruption and waste, just like any organization of their massive size. I’m not wild about how the IOC rewarded a horribly repressive government with the honor of hosting them this year. And I understand that, as symbols go, the Games are incredibly expensive and frequently ineffective.

Yet I love them still. Here’s why.

As a universal, guileless language, sports are uniquely positioned to change the world. Take ping-pong diplomacy. Before Nixon could go to China, a hippie named Glenn Cowan had to board the wrong bus at the world championships in Japan; there he struck up an unlikely friendship with China’s best player. Mao saw pictures of the two exchanging gifts (in violation of Chinese policy), and suddenly the U.S. team was invited to China: the first non-Communist Americans to visit in 20 years. The tour was a grand success — tearing down stereotypes and clearing out Vietnam-era mistrust. 10 days after the team left, Nixon was formally invited to Beijing.

Governments only get away with things when people aren’t paying attention. Say what you will about the Games, but the world, billions strong, will be watching. And what will they see there? Each other. The Games are run by simpering bureaucrats, but Olympic athletes remain the most accurate representation of a nation’s people. Nations are ruled by a privileged few; the United Nations is full of diplomats, politicians, and (worst of all) lawyers. But Olympians are ordinary people — folks like you and me — with world-class talent. And inspiring stories: in 2000, Lopez Lomong, the American flag-bearer at the opening ceremonies, was a Sudanese boy in flight from genocide, catching his first glimpse of the Olympics on a black-and-white TV at a Kenyan refugee camp.

Eight years later, he carries our flag. He runs for us.

Human beings are made to play, made to compete. Just as capitalism harnesses our fallen nature for our economic benefit, sports allow us to divert our natural passion and aggression — even (gasp!) nationalism — into productive channels. Sports improve the body while they train the mind — to work together with others, to move gracefully through space, to demand more of ourselves than we ever dreamed possible. And in a world where truth seems all too elusive, where postmodernism rips at the foundations of belief, sports offer exactly what we crave: standards and objectivity, doled out by the hands of a clock and the numbers on a scoreboard.

Yes. The Games are expensive. But they are also useful, inspiring, fun — and part of what makes us uniquely human.

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The Tortoise and the Hare

08/8/2008, 10:30 am -- by David | No Comments

Once upon a time the animals of the forest decided to hold an election to see who would be their president. After a grueling primary season, the two sides nominated their candidates: Tortoise McCain and Hare Obama.

The news spread like wildfire through the forest, and all the news reporters showed up to watch Obama train.

“Mr. Obama,” said the CNN correspondent, “how fast can you run to Washington?”

“Washington!” scoffed Obama. “Watch this!!”

And with that, he disappeared in a blaze over the horizon. Before the reporters could even take a breath, he reappeared with souvenirs from Europe.

“I got this for you in Berlin,” he said to one reporter. “This came from Paris for you.”

“McCain,” said the NBC reporter, “where can you go to show us your speed?”

“Um, uh… does anyone want some French fries from Burger King or a bratwurst from German Town?” he replied.

The reporters broke out into hysterical laughter, and silly old Mr. McCain retreated to his house to train for the big day.

To be continued — this could actually end well for McCain, if you believe in fairy tales…

Quote of the Day, 8/8/08

08/8/2008, 7:00 am -- by Bweinh | No Comments

““Olympism is not a system — it is a state of mind. This state of mind has emerged from a double cult: that of effort and that of Eurythmy – a taste of excess and a taste of measure combined.” — P. de Coubertin

River to Sea

08/7/2008, 10:00 am -- by Mike | 1 Comment

This past Saturday, a longtime dream was realized when six friends and I ran the River to Sea Relay, a 7-person, 92-mile relay race across New Jersey. Each team member ran two legs of unequal length, one in the morning, one in the afternoon.

The team members ranged from a 17-year-old local high school track runner to my 58-year-old dad. The race is a staggered start, meaning that the slowest team started first (around 6 AM) and the fastest team started last (around 10:15 AM), with hopes of a close finish. We believe many teams must have sandbagged their reported times, however, as we were the 40th to start — and let’s just say our time was not better than 39 other teams. This late start meant that we had to run the 92 miles at 8:33 per mile to finish by the mandated 8:30 PM.

Interestingly, I was the median runner on the team; three were slower than me, three were faster. I figured the fast and slow would cancel each other out if I could keep on pace.

We began at 7:25, my dad running the first leg down from the Delaware River bridge into Milford, NJ and south along the Delaware through the hamlet of Frenchtown; he ran a 4.8 mile leg in about 44 minutes. My soon-to-be sister-in-law Kristie ran 8.2 miles further south, finishing in about 75 minutes. We were slightly behind when I started the third stage, a trail run further south to Lambertville, NJ. A six-mile run took 47 minutes, getting our team closer to pace.

Then our fast runners were up consecutively. The fourth stage, affectionately known as “the Beast” for its terrible hills, saw one of the most amazing running displays I’ve ever seen. Steve Johnson, a marathoner from our church, tackled 8.7 miles, almost all uphill, in 59 minutes, moving us ahead of schedule. Mike Snyder, an 18-year-old runner from our church, ran 6.5 miles in about 50 minutes, and Steve Trimble, a friend of Mike’s, ran an eight-mile leg in about 68 minutes.

This was a fine, if unexceptional, time — until you consider he ran through a monsoon for half of it and had to run for shelter when it began to hail for a few minutes. Just keeping us on pace was a miracle, and the leg ended with him vomiting up ingested rain water from the beginning of the stage. The seventh stage, a four-miler, was tackled by my brother Chris in about 36 minutes. We were about 12 minutes ahead of schedule, halfway through the race.

Kristie took the first leg of the second half, a 5.5 miler. Exhaustion caught up with her, however, and she had to walk for a bit. However, she put up sub-10-minute miles, keeping us ahead of pace. My second leg came next — the longest of the race. I wasn’t sure if the young runners on our team were really training hard for the race, so I doubted they should take a 9.15-mile leg in the heat of the day. Even though they are far more gifted runners, I knew I would maximize my lesser gifts.

Big mistake. Continued here!

Joke of the Day, 8/7/08

08/7/2008, 7:00 am -- by Bweinh | No Comments

A man named Bob decided to move out to the country and become a chicken farmer. So he bought a chicken farm, next door to another chicken farm, owned by a generous man named Fred.

Fred visited Bob one day and said, “Chicken farming ain\’t easy. Tell you what: to help you get started, I\’ll give you 100 chickens.”

Bob was thrilled. But two weeks later, Fred stopped by to see how things were going, and Bob said, “Not so good. All 100 chickens died.”

Fred said, “Oh, no! I\’ll give you 100 more.”

Another two weeks went by, and Fred stopped in again. Bob told him, “You\’re not going to believe this, but those chickens died too.”

Astounded, Fred asked, “What went wrong?”

“Well, I\’m just not sure if I\’m planting them too deep, or not far apart enough.”

Battle of the Bands LXIV

08/6/2008, 9:16 pm -- by Bweinh | No Comments

Here are the first group of band names from Acts, along with last week’s Esther bands, to break the tie!

{democracy:281}

{democracy:280}

Bible Discussion — Acts 1

08/6/2008, 9:00 pm -- by Bweinh | 1 Comment

This week, Bweinh.com begins discussing a new book: the first chapter of Acts!

PREVIOUS DISCUSSIONS:
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 | 9 | 10
11 | 12 | 13 | 14-15 | 16-17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24
Esther: 1-2 | 3-5 | 6-8 | 9-10

INTRODUCTION:
David:
Matthew, Mark and John offer valuable Gospel narratives, but only Luke follows it up with a second volume that goes beyond what “Jesus began both to do and teach,” recording the Acts of the Apostles who founded the Christian church.

Connie:
Background and preparation is what this chapter is all about. And just in case you thought we were done with gambling, we have another round of casting lots in order to determine the new 12th disciple.

SOMETHING YOU’D NEVER NOTICED BEFORE:
David:
I saw anew the naivetÃ© of the disciples who wanted to jump to the conclusion immediately — thinking the conclusion was restoration of the kingdom to Israel (v. 6). They didn\’t have a clue what was coming.

Steve:
Already the disciples had expanded tenfold — with another drastic expansion on the horizon.

BEST BAND NAME FROM THE PASSAGE:
Josh: Vacancy
Connie: Akel Dama
David: The Promise
Steve: By the Mouth

Continued here!

Once Upon A Time (Part Three)

08/6/2008, 11:00 am -- by Chloe | No Comments

Read part one and part two!

The prince rode on for three more days, until he came to the edge of the forest and the shore of a wide, deep lake. On either side and as far as he could see, the water stretched on. The prince was perplexed, and had no idea what to do with this turn of events.

At that moment, a great and ugly beast reared its head from the depths of the briny blue. “Hello, little prince,” the kraken gurgled.

“You know, I\’m not that little where I come from,” the prince muttered, hefting his spear. “And unless you tell me how to cross this great water, I shall force you to forfeit your life, monster!”

“Will you?” the kraken asked, but his amusement didn\’t show well on his mucky face. “Well, then, I will tell you how to cross this water — if you will first tell me why you are so intent on crossing it.”

The prince, still somewhat stung by his encounter with the ogre, chose to slightly amend his quest. “I journey to release my countrywomen from the clutches of an evil sorceress and to find my one true”¦ queen.”

The kraken\’s peals of laughter were truly terrifying, boiling and churning the waters to a frothy gray soup. The prince missed soup.

When the kraken recovered himself, he said, “I will gladly take you across this water. You\’ll need all the help you can get. Climb onto my back, you and your gentle steed. You have nothing to fear from me.”

“What were you laughing at?” the prince asked tentatively, as he settled onto the kraken\’s briny back.

“Me? Oh, nothing. Frog in my throat, all that.”

When they reached the other side of the vast lake and the kraken deposited the prince and his noble sea horse on firm sand again, the kraken said, “I leave you with one piece of wisdom, little prince. Nothing is as it seems. For all your power, your greatest weapon is knowing when to surrender.”

“But a real man never surrenders!” the prince called out. The kraken, however, had already disappeared into the deep.

For three days longer, the prince and his steed traveled. On the third day, when the prince began to despair of ever returning home, he came upon a boneyard, stretching on for miles beyond the horizon. In the center of the carnage was a dragon, massive and black, and curled up asleep.

To be continued!

Quote of the Day, 8/6/08

08/6/2008, 7:00 am -- by Bweinh | No Comments

“Barack wants to focus on new technologies to cut foreign oil dependency. And McCain wants offshore drilling. Well, why don’t we do a hybrid of both candidates’ ideas? We can do limited offshore drilling with strict environmental oversight while creating tax incentives to get Detroit making hybrid and electric cars. That way, the offshore drilling carries us until the new technologies kick in, which will then create new jobs and energy independence. Energy crisis solved!” — P. Hilton

Four Weeks (Part Three)

08/5/2008, 12:00 pm -- by Steve | 1 Comment

Read the series in parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Some of my co-workers expressed unguarded alarm when I mentioned that my itinerary included visits to Alabama and Georgia. One confided, in all seriousness, that although she had once been forced to drive through Alabama, she had refused to stop in the state for any reason. “It’s scary down there. Everybody’s got a gun! I didn’t know what would happen.”

Veteran of a few prior trips to the region, I was a little surprised by the unveiled condescension aimed at the people of the South, and I noted the irony of judging a group to be ignorant and uncultured on the strength of a single drive to an airport. But then we all have our prejudices — I personally dislike Turks and teenagers. The important thing seems to be choosing the ones that result in knowing nods, rather than stunned silence, when you confess them too frankly over a second Heineken.

If anything, this trip helped to reinforce to me the tremendous variety and beauty of our land, and the unmistakable similarity of its people. Our outsides may be as different as the countryside of New Jersey and New Mexico, and our behavior and language may be a function of our subcultures, but the cloak of diversity does little to hide the universal human motivations. And there is too the homogenizing effect of capitalism: every Walgreens store I passed, from Phoenix, Ariz. to Phenix City, Ala., displayed the same message about gas prices in flashing red letters. Comforting, in a way. Also eerie.

A week down South is never enough. After three short days of four-square and fireworks, we were off from Alabama, driving across the heart of Georgia to the coast — where, it seemed, the next three days leapt by in a blur of alligator spotting on the dock and reading beside the pool. My respective Southern relatives are further ammunition for my claim: vastly different in the incidental (one living room packed full with four dogs and nine people; the other as sedate and collected as the oil paintings on its walls), yet so similar in graciousness and generosity.

Amidst the haste, there are times during travel when the moment freezes, and I am overcome with identification, imagining how different life could have been for me, there, then. And for this I will remember Fort Valley, Georgia: steering around a curve, I watched two children madly pedal their bicycles along the road in front of me, then suddenly dart off the side, onto a well-worn path that wound through the knotty pines and led to who-knows-where. I recalled the paths and bikes and forts and clubs of my childhood, and thousands of miles from them, sat struck by nostalgia for a life I would never know. For a moment, that town felt like home.

And — would you believe? — I never saw a single gun.

Joke of the Day, 8/5/08

08/5/2008, 7:00 am -- by Bweinh | No Comments

The human cannonball decided to retire. The circus owner said, “But you can’t! Where will I find another man of your caliber?”

The Council’s Ruling — The Election

08/4/2008, 12:00 pm -- by Bweinh | No Comments

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 — Which candidate (if any) will you support for President?

Bweinh.com hereby endorses John McCain.

Steve delivers the ruling of the Council, joined by Kaitlin, Tom, Djere, and Connie:

The makeup of the Supreme Court alone would compel me to support John McCain, who is drastically better qualified to be President than his opponent.

Mike concurs, joined by Steve:

John McCain–because the audacity of hope shouldn’t stop at the birth canal.

Chloe concurs:

McCain — he’s so hot in his uniform.

David concurs:

McCain — the lesser of two evils.

MC-B dissents, joined by Erin:

I will not support either with anything other than my vote, and each has yet to win me completely to his camp.

Josh and Job played no part in the determination of this issue.

Next time: Who is the most overrated author of all time?

Quote of the Day, 8/4/08

08/4/2008, 7:00 am -- by Bweinh | No Comments

“If humanism were right in declaring that man is born to be happy, he would not be born to die. Since his body is doomed to die, his task on earth evidently must be of a more spiritual nature. It cannot be unrestrained enjoyment of everyday life. It cannot be the search for the best ways to obtain material goods and then cheerfully get the most out of them. It has to be the fulfillment of a permanent, earnest duty so that one’s life journey may become an experience of moral growth, so that one may leave life a better human being than one started it.” — A. Solzhenitsyn (12/11/18-8/3/08)

Once Upon A Time (Part Two)

08/3/2008, 11:00 pm -- by Chloe | 1 Comment

Read part one here!

The prince rode his noble steed in the forest for three days, seeing and hearing naught but their own breath. On the third day, the prince entered a beautiful glade, at the center of which was a massive snoring ogre.

The brave prince vaulted off his steed and unsheathed his magnificent sword, declaring, “Stand, Ogre, and meet my Doom!” Doom was, of course, the name of his blade.

The ogre sat up groggily and proved more massive than the prince might have imagined. The clever steed moved a safe distance away as the ogre yawned, filling the glade with the stench of death. Then the ogre stood and said, “Little prince, I will let you pass through my glade unmolested if you answer my question.”

The prince barked a laugh. “Let me? Nay, ogre, I will pass by on my own terms, with your head severed from your warty neck! Now stand and fight!”

The ogre sighed and shook his head. “Little prince, the first lesson you must learn is this: choose your battles wisely. There is more to won than glory, and more to be lost than honor. I ask you, then, what is your quest?”

The prince stood squarely and declared, “I go to release the women of my country from the clutches of an evil sorceress so that they may return to home, hearth and husband!” As an afterthought, he added, “I also go to find my one true love. And treasure, if there is any.”

At this, the ogre fell to his knees in a fit of laughter. The trees shook, the rocks trembled, and the prince faltered. “What are you laughing at?”

The ogre composed himself with some difficulty, wiping a mossy green tear from his eye and rising again to his feet. “I will let you pass, little prince. I will even let you jab your little doom at me, if you like. You have far greater battles ahead.”

The prince mounted his distant steed then, and did indeed jab his sword at the ogre, because he didn\’t like to be laughed at. He didn\’t break the skin, though; he didn\’t much feel like jabbing any longer.

At that moment, a great and ugly beast reared its head from the depths of the briny blue. “Hello, little prince,” the kraken gurgled.

To be continued!

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