Sunday, February 28, 2010

I've mixed emotions,...I think

I recently reread the story about a church in England that removed a 10 ft. sculpture of Christ on the cross that used to be out in front of the building because it was "scaring young children" and "putting people off". And they were going to replace it with a plain stainless steel cross (which, I guess, would be about as offensive as a kitchen utensil).

Hmmm... The Crucifixion offensive? Goodness, we can't have that! What a scandal! How dare th.... Oh, wait. It's kind of assumed to be offensive, isn't it? I mean, you don't want to use it just to be offensive -- but isn't it kind of guaranteed to be so? Doesn't the Apostle Paul call it an offense, and "foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God"? Maybe the problem isn't the crucifix outside the church, but, rather, a lack of understanding (or proper perspective) of the cross by those inside.

The church's Reverend Souter says, "As a key exterior symbol for us it was putting people off rather than having a sense of hope and life and the power of the resurrection."

Which is fair enough, I suppose. Passersby not knowing the context of the man on the cross could easily be confused or offended by it. But if it's a problem as a "key exterior symbol", then just move it inside. Right? Wrong. They've apparently given it to a museum (where, one would think, it would be even more potentially confusing or offensive, since it's even further removed from the proximity of a Christian church). But, besides all that, doesn't one kind of have to come to grips with the awfulness of the crucifixion to even get to a sense of hope and life and the power of the resurrection? And what better place than a church?

I find it hard to believe that early Christians were suprised that crucifixion was offensive. In Jesus' time, the simple fact that one was crucified at all was considered a disgrace. And since the horrible spectacle of public crucifixion was kind of a daily fact of life for them, then isn't it possible that Paul keeps reminding them of it because he knew they'd immediately and vividly understand the reference? Aren't we supposed to be shaken-up by the grim reality that Jesus endured such a tortured death for a world that pretty much despises him? And isn't there a danger of minimizing the seriousness of the sins he died for, when we sanitize horrors he suffered procuring the forgiveness of those sins?

Maybe that's why Christianity in Europe has been in such decline for so long. Maybe they just got too civilized and sophisticated for a story with such a crude and violent component to it. Maybe. But then, they seem to tolerate other (more modern) types of violence.

It makes you wonder, don't it?

Obviously, a message that focuses only on our sin-guilt, and the gruesomeness of the price paid for our forgiveness, shouldn't be where the story leaves off. And it's unfortunately true that some people seem to be so obsessed with the physical horrors of the crucifixion that it borders on morbidity. But a message that wants to skip lightly over that part of the story, in order to get on to more pleasant things, seems equally wrong. Western society seems to be either excessively preoccupied with death, or excessively afraid of it -- and neither extreme is healthy (either emotionally or spiritually). Balance seems to be a rarer and rarer thing in the modern church (and society in general), but isn't balance just the kind of thing Christians are called to model in this unbalanced world?

The Reverend also said they want to portray "an accurate biblical picture of the crucifixion as a moment of hopefulness for the world, and not one of despair." But the Apostle Paul spoke of the world viewing the cross as an offense and foolishness. And the writer of Hebrews encouraged Christians to: "Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God."

And maybe therein lies the problem. We are to focus on Jesus, but too many want to focus on just the parts of Jesus that don't upset them too much. People (believers and non-believers alike) prefer an amputated Jesus. The Liberation theology Jesus; the prosperity gospel Jesus; the positive thinking Jesus; the fire & brimstone Jesus; the New Age guru Jesus; the ethno-centric Jesus; and I expect to soon start hearing about the 'Liberty-Minded' Jesus (who is a Libertarian/Anarcho-Capitalist). But the Jesus of the Bible transcends and defies such neat and easy catagorizations. The fact that he had a zealot and a tax collector as two of his disciples should be proof enough of the radically life changing nature of the gospel (a zealot would have likely killed a tax collector, if ever their paths crossed in a dark alley -- but not after they encountered Jesus).

Then there are those who confuse the offensiveness of the cross with the offensiveness of their preaching style. But just because people are offended, that doesn't mean they're offended in the way the bible describes. Some people seem to confuse the offensiveness of the message with the obnoxiousness of the messenger. (Which is kind of how cultists think: "Ooooh, we're being persecuted because we're God's true chosen." No, you're being investigated because you're stockpiling an arsenal of military weapons, you're involved in financial illegalities, and you're practicing mind control on your members. Get a clue.)

Christianity is a faith that is full of paradoxes that, if not properly understood, may seem overly negative to some (e.g., you've got to die to get life; the last shall be first; he who saves his life shall lose it; etc). But one doesn't have to have a degree in theology to grasp such paradoxes (I mean, have you looked at the kinds of people Jesus called -- and still calls -- to follow him? You should meet the one writing this post). On the other hand, you can't approach the Christian faith and scriptures with an anti-intellectual "Oh, I just trust the Holy Spirit to explain it all to me, if it's really that important" mentality. Which brings us back to the concept of balance.

The church's curator said, "That today isn't an image which a lot of churches want to follow. They'd much rather see an empty cross where Christ has risen."

I can understand not wanting people to think that Christ on the cross is the whole story. Without the resurrection, he's just another deluded false messiah that got himself executed. But it just seems to be symbolic of modern Churchianity's obsession with never offending anyone -- i.e., the suffering Christ is more welcome in a museum than a church (providing he stays on the cross), while the church attempts to offer a "hopeful" resurrection message of a Christ that never suffered.

Still, the curator may have inadvertantly said more than he knew, when he stated, "They'd much rather see an empty cross where Christ has risen." Because an empty cross only indicates that Christ was taken down and buried. The empty tomb tells us Christ has risen. And, unfortunately, an empty church is usually the evidence of an amputated Jesus. God help us.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Or Blogger Nazis?


Well, to their credit, MySpace actually replied promptly to my e-mail complaint about the link to this Blogger page being blocked. And, unlike the last time it happened, the response actually addressed the problem specifically. So I applaud MySpace for such improvements. Maybe they aren't the problem after all.

The MySpace explanation for the blocked link is:

We've recently discovered that BlogSpot pages are being used by spammers to send spam, so all links to that site have been disabled. Although you or your blog may not be associated with or linked to spam or spammers, to protect all MySpace Profiles from spam, phishing, and online scams, all links to Blogspot are blocked.

Which now begs the question: If BlogSpot pages are being used by spammers to send spam, what (if anything) are the Blogger folks doing to fix the problem? And, if they're not doing anything about it, why shouldn't I take my millions of readers and move to a different blog site



[Addendum: Since this was originally posted, I've received two "comments" that were spam links to Asian porn sites. So, apparently, the spam problem is a real concern. What losers. I hope Blogger gets a handle on the problem soon. DEATH TO SPAMMERS!!!]

Sunday, February 7, 2010

MySpace Nazis?


Well, they're at it again! The MySpace Nazis have once again blocked the link to this here blog. Their reasons? Well, let's look at those. Shall we?

Anyone clicking on the link to here from my MySpace page sees the following (just click on the picture, if it's too small to read):



Now if that's not about a load of mierda del toro, I don't know what is.

MySpace seems determined to chase me off. It's not bad enough that they're interfering with my link, and lying about the reasons why. I had an Imeem account, but MySpace bought Imeem. So there went most of my playlists – including my Van Gogh playlist, which was comprised of songs I wrote the lyrics to and sang on! They had no business deleting those!!!

I can imagine what some might be wondering: If MySpace is so bad, why not just go to Facebook? Which might be an option, if not for one small point: I HATE Facebook! But that's a whole other post.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Goo Goo Ga Joob!


Taking a break from his Golf Channel reality show, NBA Hall of Famer Charles Barkley takes a dip in a hotel swimming pool. And although he looks none too pleased about having his photo taken, he should have known it would take more than a Wilford Brimley mustache to hide that legendary physique.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Okay, I know I should have known better, but...


While checking my e-mail, I saw the following news headline:

Mel Gibson Takes on Obama in a War of the Words

Well, I'm ashamed to admit that I was morbidly curious. So I clicked on the link, where I found a short article that quoted Gibson as saying:

"[Obama] is a man with an impossible task on his hands... He got left a mess and I wish him all the best but I don't think he's going to fix it in five minutes and probably not in his entire tenure."

Really? This is a “War of the Words”? Seriously?!?! THEN...WE...ARE...DOOOOOOMED!!!! Shout it from the rooftops. If that is what passes for a “war of the words” in this country, then America can officially be pronounced brain-dead.

Sheesh!

(But I guess that's what I get for taking the bait.)

Thursday, February 4, 2010

The Beginning of Sorrows, part 4...(And the Hits just Keep on Coming)

Well, Patty's test results came back and it's official: she's got LUPUS! Yaaaaaaaay! Because, you know, the fibromyalgia, the arthritis in her spine, knees, and elbows, and the bursitis in her hips and shoulder just aren't enough (not to mention the stress of taking care of that dead albatross around her neck that she calls a husband).

I was sure something would happen to keep us bent over, and,...darn it!....I wasn't disappointed. The prison rape continues. Seriously, though – if this is some kind of test, I'm not getting it. Are we supposed to be learning some great spiritual lesson from all the crap of the last couple of years? And if so, shouldn't we have at least some small clue by now as to what that lesson is? I don't think God causes every crappy thing in life to happen, but I know he can redeem every crappy thing for his glory. Sometimes God takes life's shit and uses it for fertilizer to bring forth something good. Still,...I'm kind of clueless as to just what's going on. Maybe I'm like a field of really bad soil; or maybe the crop he's cultivating takes longer than most to come to fruition; or maybe I'm even denser than I think I am; or maybe (probably) it's a combination of all three, and some others I'm not even aware of.

If I were a Calvinist, I think I'd be telling God where to stick it. But I'm not,....so it never really occurs to me. It's the old "though he slay me, I will hope in him" thing. I think the fact that he exists is more important than whether or not he saves my soul or listens to my prayers. Still, I'm glad he did do the dirty work of saving my soul, and has the patience (not to mention the fortitude) to listen to what passes for my prayers. I'm certainly not worth the price he paid – but, ironically, the price he paid gives me worth. (Man, I do love it that God seems to delight in paradoxes!)



[More than likely to be continued...]

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Will wonders never cease?


By beating the Bengals (24-14), the Jets survive to lose another day.

Jets rookie QB Mark Sanchez seems to be a pretty nice guy. And one has to appreciate the gee whiz quality of the following quote (from a post play-off game interview, after beating the Bengals):

Amazingly, Sanchez admitted during timeouts that he actually managed to step back and soak in the atmosphere at various points, realizing the grandiose nature of the NFL’s postseason.

“You just take a look at the stadium and you hear the Bengal thing roaring,” Sanchez said. “You can hear the fans screaming at you. You can see the guys on the sideline getting animated. You think, ‘Wow, the entire country is watching this. And I get to say go? I get to say ‘hut’? They don’t do anything until I say ‘hut’?’ That’s crazy. It blows your mind. It’s unbelievable.”

Considering the awe most rookies go through in their first playoff game, it was a statement that reflected a remarkable grasp and appreciation. Maybe even poise.

[Read full article here.]

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

The Beginning of Sorrows, part 3...(A Cracked Sense Of Humerus)



Because we were having such an incredible run of good luck going – obviously, something had to happen to extend the streak. So...

About 2½ weeks after the flood, we were trying to get settled in at my sister & brother-in-laws (and still trying to catch our breaths), when the universe tracked us down and decided to give us a little something extra to go with our recent misfortune.

One day (a Thursday, it was) – while Patty was at work – I had a problem that required that I be lifted. Since Patty is the only person who is able to lift me (solo) without it hurting like a blankety-blank, I turned to my sister and nephew for help (they'd lifted me before, so it didn't seem like a big deal). Well...

As they were lifting me – one on either side of me; my arms around their necks; each with one arm under a leg, and one behind my back – I slipped. And, as I slipped, my left arm was forced up over my head....at which point there was a noticeable pop, followed by a sound like several celery stalks being broken at once. Needless to say, it was painful. On a pain scale of 1 to 10: this one goes to 11! It hurt so bad, I thought I was going to stand up.

My sister and nephew did everything they could to keep me from slipping. Unfortunately, sometimes gravity just wins. Period. And this was one of those times.

Judging by the sound, I thought I must have torn my rotator cuff, or something equally enjoyable. But I decided that (in spite of the pain) I'd give it till Monday to show some signs of improvement, and only go to the doctor if there was none, or it got worse.

Well,...I made it to the next morning (Friday). The pain had gotten much worse, and there was a good deal of swelling and stiffness. So we called to see if we could get in to see our doctor. We could. So off we went.

X-rays were taken, and I was told I had fractured my left humerus (the upper arm bone), right where it turns into the ball that fits into the shoulder socket. YIPPEEEE! But, he wanted to send me to an orthopaedist, just to be safe. Unfortunately, the orthopaedist couldn't see me until Monday. So I was prescribed darvocet, and told to keep the arm as immobile as possible.

Monday, the orthopaedist (a fellow Jets fan, no less) said it didn't require any serious treatment to immobilize the arm, since I can't move my arms alot anyway. (Hey, sometimes, crippled has its perks!) He said to just keep it as still as possible, and come back in six weeks.

Sleeping...was...a...BITCH!!! The darvocet didn't do anything to relieve the pain. It took forever to get me in a position that wasn't excruciating – and then I'd wake up, after an hour or so, and have to be repositioned. It was maddening in the extreme. I felt awful, continuously interrupting Patty's sleep (she was beyond exhausted, yet she never got ill-tempered with me). It is nothing short of amazing, how patient she is through all the crap I (unintentionally) put her through.

You know,...you can go through your whole life without experiencing certain things and not feel gypped. This was one of those things. I was introduced to a level of pain that had, hitherto, remained unexperienced by me in my 48+ years of life on this delightful little planet of ours. But now,...I can confidently add another item to my list of Things-I-Never-Want-To-Go-Through-Again-In-My-Life. Seriously,...the whole being-in-a-wheelchair thing is enough for me.

And however bad I thought the breaking-celery-stalks sound was – it's a whole lot creepier when you realize it was your upper arm bone trying to snap in two. (I always thought it a bit of Hollywood overkill-for-effect, when I'd see sound effects guys using celery stalks for breaking bone sounds. Now I know they were just being accurate.)

There are some less than helpful x-rays here. (They're not the glamour shots I requested – and I don't even have a good side – so prepare to be underwhelmed).*



*My CAT scan images (here) are, at least, a little more interesting (if not downright disturbing).**

**And if you find all this internal exhibitionism distasteful, then just be glad they didn't record my Cystoscopy last year.

The Beginning of Sorrows, part 2...(A Post-Diluvian Report)


Three days after our 10th wedding anniversary (which found us spending $329 on van repairs), Patty and I found ourselves being forced to evacuate our place of residence due to the worst flooding in a century. Our area experienced nearly 20 inches of rainfall in a 24-hour period – and that's never a good thing.

We didn't expect the floodwaters to reach the house, because they never had before (even in the serious floods of 1994 & 2005).

At 8:00 PM, Patty and I decided to watch Lark Rise To Candleford (on PBS), only to have the cable go out around 8:30. Not long after that, the telephone went out. And when the water started rising high enough to begin putting out the porch lights of our neighbors houses, we new that this wasn't going to be like other floods.

When the waters reached the downstairs rooms, we knew (albeit too late) that we were in serious trouble. So we grabbed what little we could (photographs, back-up disks of computer files, my lyrics, and a few other irreplaceable things) and threw it all in the van.

Since our van is a wheelchair accessible mini-van – which means it sits lower than other mini-vans by about 9 inches – traversing flooded streets could be suicidally foolish. So, at 1:00 AM (with only one open road out of the area remaining), we left in search of a hotel on higher ground (thank Heavens, for the Country Inn & Suites on South Cobb Drive).

It's a helpless feeling: being forced to evacuate by floodwaters that seem intent on taking away everything you own. And it's a guilty feeling: knowing you're leaving your mother and step-father behind in the process (Mama and Buddy chose to stay as long as absolutely possible). Patty and I don't have a lot – but much of what we do have is irreplaceable – so it was pretty upsetting, having to leave, not knowing if there would be anything salvageable when we returned.

I alternated between anger and near despair, mainly because of my feelings of being so helpless. I couldn't help pack up and move things, and it was maddening. I was also angry that some of our neighbor's we're losing everything they had. (I know that “life isn't fair” – but that doesn't mean I don't get pissed about some of the unfairer aspects of it. Sue me!)

It was kind of like being on the Titanic: steadily rising water, various utilities going out one-by-one, watching your neighbor's lights get swallowed up by the water, safe routes away from the danger flooding and becoming impassable, feeling utterly helpless to do anything really useful or constructive.

Thankfully, the floodwaters stopped just a couple of feet short of the main level of the house. Nearly everything downstairs was lost – including two cars, two central AC units (the house is kind of like a duplex), the water heater, the furnace, everything in my stepfather's office and shop. It was an awful stinking mess. Fortunately, some stuff got moved upstairs just in time. All-in-all, we felt blessed – especially considering the damage and loss suffered by so many people around us.

Patty and I spent the week after the flood at the aforementioned hotel (we couldn't have stayed at the house, because the air quality was toxic and there were no utilities). We went to the house everyday to pack up stuff to move into storage. Bob and Mary (Patty's parents) came and helped some. And at the end of the week, we moved in with my sister and brother-in-law, and their family, in Woodstock (we'll be staying there until we can figure out our next move – or until a waiting list for Section 8 housing assistance opens up).

The stress has been incredible (we still don't feel fully recovered, mentally or physically) – but, through it all, Patty has been her usual amazing self.

As I recently told a friend: I've never understood the "times are tough, let's turn on each other" reaction to tragedy or adversity. It seems like emotional cannibalism. Aren't those the times a couple should be turning to each other for support? Maybe we're just screwy, but, Patty and I lean on each other during all this craziness. Our love for each other is the one thing that can't be taken away from us – and it's the most precious thing we have.

Not having flood insurance (nothing like the worst flooding in 100 years to make you realize you needed it) has only added to the hardship. Mama, Buddy, and Beth (and Beth's two year old son) are still at the house, slowly trying to get it back into some kind of decent shape, before deciding their next move. My brother Jamey and his friend Steve have been a great help getting the downstairs torn out and replaced. Steve's wife and daughter helped out, too. There have been others that have helped, but I'm blanking at the moment. Church groups of volunteers helped clear out some stuff, and another church group went around delivering meals to those who were still in their damaged homes (good meals, too).

There are photos here.

But the fun ride still wasn't over...

Goodness, no...

Friday, October 30, 2009

The Beginning Of Sorrows, part 1...


The last six weeks have been quite an adventure. Patty and I started the day of our 10th wedding anniversary getting our van checked out. It checked out to the tune of $329.00, because it needed a new alternator. But this is only the beginning of the story...

Saturday, May 9, 2009

I'm no Trekkie, but...

...maybe Star Trek IV was on to something.



Nasa scientists recently released this amazing picture of the aptly titled Whale Galaxy.


Click on photo to enlarge.
For more info, go here.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!!

Sheesh... The way people are freakin' out, you'd think it was the end of the world.

I mean, yeah, it's loud, fast, and rambunctious -- but still, it's only a One Bad Pig album!


Sure, it's infectious, but it won't kill you.

Everybody should get it. And give it to your friends, too -- they'll be glad to have it (no matter what Dr. Sanjay Gupta says).




Sunday, March 29, 2009

From the Florida Bored of Tourism.

Concerned that the dangers posed by lightning, undertow, alligators, and sharks were possibly becoming passé in the estimation of some of the annual invaders visitors to God's favorite state, Florida officials have upped the ante considerably by recently introducing...

Killer Whales!

And into the Gulf of Mexico at that! (Talk about a pulling a fast one -- even most marine biologists were caught off guard.)

One can only marvel at the ingenuity, and wonder what they'll come up with next.

A Defence of Baby-Worship

As we await the news of the imminent arrival of Patty's great-niece (Patty is humorously freaked out by the prospect of being a 'great-aunt'), I thought about the following G. K. Chesterton essay, and thought I'd share it. It's one of those pieces that you get something new out of every time you read it. I hope you enjoy it.

(And, lest anyone be put off by the title, he's not talking about the blasphemous kind of worship -- so relax.)
____________________________________________________

A DEFENCE OF BABY-WORSHIP

The two facts which attract almost every normal person to children are, first, that they are very serious, and, secondly, that they are in consequence very happy. They are jolly with the completeness which is possible only in the absence of humour. The most unfathomable schools and sages have never attained to the gravity which dwells in the eyes of a baby of three months old. It is the gravity of astonishment at the universe—and astonishment at the universe is not mysticism, but a transcendent common-sense. The fascination of children lies in this: that with each of them all things are remade, and the universe is put again upon its trial. As we walk the streets and see below us those delightful bulbous heads, three times too big for the body, which mark these human mushrooms, we ought always primarily to remember that within every one of these heads there is a new universe, as new as it was on the seventh day of creation. In each of those orbs there is a new system of stars, new grass, new cities, a new sea.

There is always in the healthy mind an obscure prompting that religion teaches us rather to dig than to climb; that if we could once understand the common clay of earth we should understand everything. Similarly, we have the sentiment that if we could destroy custom at a blow and see the stars as a child sees them, we should need no other apocalypse. This is the great truth which has always lain at the back of baby-worship, and which will support it to the end. Maturity, with its endless energies and aspirations, may easily be convinced that it will find new things to appreciate; but it will never be convinced, at bottom, that it has properly appreciated what it has got. We may scale the heavens and find new stars innumerable, but there is still the new star we have not found—that on which we were born.

But the influence of children goes further than its first trifling effort of remaking heaven and earth. It forces us actually to remodel our conduct in accordance with this revolutionary theory of the marvellousness of all things. We do (even when we are perfectly simple or ignorant)—we do actually treat talking in children as marvellous, walking in children as marvellous, common intelligence in children as marvellous. The cynical philosopher fancies he has a victory in this matter—that he can laugh when he shows that the words or antics of the child, so much admired by its worshippers, are common enough. The fact is that this is precisely where baby-worship is so profoundly right. Any words and any antics in a lump of clay are wonderful, the child's words and antics are wonderful, and it is only fair to say that the philosopher's words and antics are equally wonderful.

The truth is that it is our attitude towards children that is right, and our attitude towards grown-up people that is wrong. Our attitude towards our equals in age consists in a servile solemnity, overlying a considerable degree of indifference or disdain. Our attitude towards children consists in a condescending indulgence, overlying an unfathomable respect. We bow to grown people, take off our hats to them, refrain from contradicting them flatly, but we do not appreciate them properly. We make puppets of children, lecture them, pull their hair, and reverence, love, and fear them. When we reverence anything in the mature, it is their virtues or their wisdom, and this is an easy matter. But we reverence the faults and follies of children.

We should probably come considerably nearer to the true conception of things if we treated all grown-up persons, of all titles and types, with precisely that dark affection and dazed respect with which we treat the infantile limitations. A child has a difficulty in achieving the miracle of speech, consequently we find his blunders almost as marvellous as his accuracy. If we only adopted the same attitude towards Premiers and Chancellors of the Exchequer, if we genially encouraged their stammering and delightful attempts at human speech, we should be in a far more wise and tolerant temper. A child has a knack of making experiments in life, generally healthy in motive, but often intolerable in a domestic commonwealth. If we only treated all commercial buccaneers and bumptious tyrants on the same terms, if we gently chided their brutalities as rather quaint mistakes in the conduct of life, if we simply told them that they would 'understand when they were older,' we should probably be adopting the best and most crushing attitude towards the weaknesses of humanity. In our relations to children we prove that the paradox is entirely true, that it is possible to combine an amnesty that verges on contempt with a worship that verges upon terror. We forgive children with the same kind of blasphemous gentleness with which Omar Khayyam forgave the Omnipotent.*

The essential rectitude of our view of children lies in the fact that we feel them and their ways to be supernatural while, for some mysterious reason, we do not feel ourselves or our own ways to be supernatural. The very smallness of children makes it possible to regard them as marvels; we seem to be dealing with a new race, only to be seen through a microscope. I doubt if anyone of any tenderness or imagination can see the hand of a child and not be a little frightened of it. It is awful to think of the essential human energy moving so tiny a thing; it is like imagining that human nature could live in the wing of a butterfly or the leaf of a tree. When we look upon lives so human and yet so small, we feel as if we ourselves were enlarged to an embarrassing bigness of stature. We feel the same kind of obligation to these creatures that a deity might feel if he had created something that he could not understand.

But the humorous look of children is perhaps the most endearing of all the bonds that hold the Cosmos together. Their top-heavy dignity is more touching than any humility; their solemnity gives us more hope for all things than a thousand carnivals of optimism; their large and lustrous eyes seem to hold all the stars in their astonishment; their fascinating absence of nose seems to give to us the most perfect hint of the humour that awaits us in the kingdom of heaven.

____________________________________________________

*LXXXI
Oh, Thou who Man of baser Earth didst make,
And ev'n with Paradise devise the Snake:
For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man
Is blacken'd--Man's forgiveness give--and take!

--The Rubaiyat by Omar Khayyam



[The essay is from The Defendant, by G. K. Chesterton -- available for free legal download at Project Gutenberg]

Thursday, March 19, 2009

You Don't Know, Jack.

In a recent Commentary at CNN.com, professional curmudgeon Jack Cafferty wrote a piece entitled “Obama a leader who actually leads” that I couldn't let go unchallenged. So here's my Comments on his Commentary.

"What a welcome change to feel like someone is running the country instead of running it into the ground."

Since when is using a bigger, more expensive, bulldozer to dig your way out of a hole not running something into the ground??

"President Obama has done more in eight weeks than George W. Bush did in eight years -- unless you include starting a couple of wars."

A.) Doing "more" doesn't necessarily mean doing better. And...

B.) Waging an undeclared war against the U.S. economy is hardly something to be proud of. ("Ahhhh, I love the smell of bail-outs in the morning."--from Obamalypse Now*)


"While the armchair quarterbacks second guess the new president, he gets up every day and does things, lots of things."

But are they good things? Are they the right things?? And not all of the critics are "armchair quarterbacks" -- some are quarterbacks for other teams. And some are more capable quarterbacks from his own team (they're the Kurt Warners to his Matt Leinart). He just happens to be the quarterback for the team with the ball at the moment.

"Whether it's creating commissions for women and girls, ordering the investigation of President Bush's use of signing statements, or jamming a huge stimulus package through Congress, the man is working his tail off. And he seems to be loving every minute of it. It's almost as though our president was born to do exactly what he's doing. He's leading, and boy, is that refreshing."

One hardly knows where to begin with this one:

A) Yaaaaay, more government commissions -- like the ones that looked into the artificially inflated prices of music CDs and cable TV. They found that both industries lied to keep prices artificially high, and many 'experts' predicted the prices of both would then come down -- but they only went up. (I can't wait to see what awesome things they'll spend a lot of money on not being able to do for women and girls.)

B) Man, they just can't let Bush alone, can they? Wonder how much they're spending on this witch hunt? (I can only imagine what they're paying for pitchforks and torches.)

C) Remember the movie Deliverance? Remember what the in-bred rednecks did to
Ned Beatty? That should be your mental image whenever anyone mentions the Pres. "jamming a huge stimulus package through Congress". (Let the squealing begin.)

D) The man may be "working his tail off", but that's hardly encouraging if he's going the wrong way! Jack Cafferty may have worked his tail off on his commentary, but that just made it an even bigger load of crap than it would have been otherwise.

E) So Barack Obama was born to be the
Casey Jones of the nation's economic locomotive? That's hardly comforting. And what Jack sees as "leading", looks more like driving to me (and driving recklessly at that). If Jack finds it "refreshing", maybe it's because he's chosen to mindlessly stick his head out the window like a big dumb dog.

"I remember many times when Bush was in office wondering who the hell was running the country. Then he would appear somewhere in front of a handpicked audience to utter some banalities or say something utterly stupid and I would be reminded. I don't miss him."

Yeah, Obama never appears at staged events; never babbles incoherently when speaking without a teleprompter; has never uttered anything remotely banal or stupid. Good call, Jack. Glad to know you're really paying attention. (And how much does CNN pay you?**)

"That's not to say President Obama hasn't stubbed his toe here and there. Signing that omnibus spending bill with all those earmarks in it after campaigning so hard against pork was probably a mistake. The opportunity was right there to send that bill back to Congress with a note that read, "I told you I am against earmarks and I meant it. Now do it over and send me something clean." Nancy Pelosi's head would have probably exploded, but the American people would have been ready to crown him king."

Stubbed his toe?!?! It's more like: shot himself in the foot, and now he's trying to amputate his own leg.

First of all, he already seems to think the American people have crowned him king. And as for signing the Porkulus Bill -- EVERYTHING about how it was handled violated a campaign promise. If G. W. Bush had done a similar thing within his first couple of months in office, you'd still be howling about it.


"There are serious questions about whether Tim Geithner has what it takes to solve the banking crisis. Either nationalize the big ones in trouble or let them fail. It doesn't seem that just continuing to hand them money is working."

You think? Wow,... Thanks for the keen insights into the obvious there, Jack. Sheesh. And how drunk does one have to be to think that nationalizing banks is a good idea?

"Better background checks on some of his appointees would have saved him some embarrassment. There's no excuse for asking someone like Tom Daschle with his problems to do anything."

An inexperienced Walmart manager making such inexcusably bad decisions would probably be fired on the spot. Some of the new administration's screw-ups are beyond embarrassing -- in fact, they're actually kind of frightening in the level of casual incompetence they display. (And you've got the nerve to imply that 'W' was stoopid?)

"But the point, I guess, is this: President Obama is attacking our country's problems on several fronts. He's got ambitious ideas on how to solve them, and he communicates a sense of calm and confidence to the rest of us as he goes about his business. Will all his ideas work? Of course not. But if you throw enough stuff at the wall, some of it will stick."

That's the point of the whole piece? Seriously?!? Such ridiculously cavalier sentiments about something so serious is appalling (obviously, conservatives didn't corner the market on shallowness).

Ambitious ideas (even when communicated with "a sense of calm and confidence") aren't worth squat if they're the wrong ideas. If your doctor scheduled you for a heart transplant, when all you needed was a tonsillectomy, then all the "sense of calm and confidence" in the world wouldn't make it a good course of action -- no matter how "ambitious".

And the throwing stuff at the wall approach is A) insane -- when it's already pretty obvious what the problems are, and B) worse than worthless, when all you're throwing is shit (whether any of it sticks, or not).


"And at least I don't go to bed at night worried that I'll wake up in the morning to find out we're about to invade someone."

Of course not, because we're the ones being invaded. And now it's simply a matter of trying to consolidate power. And like most political true-believers (of all stripes), you think once the revolution comes, you'll be among the blessed chosen who won't be negatively impacted by the ensuing chaos.

"The opinions expressed in this commentary are solely those of Jack Cafferty."

Oh, if only such nonsense were limited only to Jack.



[*Obamalypse Now is only a movie in my head.]
[**To CNN: I'll work for a third of Jack's salary, and only be half as stupid (at the most).]