38th Confession

Just a few random thoughts thrown out there this time around.  Comment on what you want me to discuss more  in depth; next post, though, is about how to talk to telemarketers. ;)

---The age of institutions is dying; no one, least of all the institutions, is happy about it.  This is deep, pervasive, and far reaching.  The beginnings of this death was the anti-establishment movement of the sixties, and the seventies and eighties saw the decline of power of the institution.  By the time the OJ Trial (first) and Rodney King came up, people weren't AS shocked to see justice running amok, but after the Towers fell, nothing but nothing became safe. Consider the birth of the TSA, one of the least efficient and most invasive institutions from the rapidly failing institution of American government. Consider the fact that the population of the institution of churches has decreased in size.  Consider.

---My darling wife quite correctly pointed out to me that the local soft rock stations are playing a higher quality of Christian Christmas music than the local Contemporary Christian station.  I think that's a sad commentary on the state of affairs: that the "unsaved" are praising the root of Christmas better than the "saved."

---I'm thinking about shaking up the graphics on the website; e-mail me on Facebook with suggestions and comments on what you'd like to see on the page.

---I've been listening to the local Alternative station (CD 101 at 102.5 FM - plug plug), and I've noticed that the music hearkens back to the 80's new-wave movement.  It seems as though the music industry is stuck; either that, or we've reached the point of media saturation.  When tied in with the concept that the institution of "big business" or the "music industry" is dying, it seems to me to be pointing the way toward a static society.

---Tomorrow, I'm going to an 80's Cartoon viewing at a friend's house in my pajamas.  I say "in my pajamas", but what I really mean is "in a set of pajamas."  I might stick a smoking jacket on over the entire ensemble, just to make it a little more surreal.

---I kinda like the freedom of throwing out a few lines here and there, not really having to make an entire composition for each post.  But I think there's room and place for both in this blog.

37th Confession

The Top 5 Ways to tell Bigfoot you're just not that into him:

5)  Shriek, scream "OHMYGOD PLEASE DON'T EAT ME!" and then run off a cliff.

4)  Calmly sit him down in a public place and explain that you're seeing someone whose diet is a lot less vegan.

3)  Distract Padmasambhava and destroy the spherical equipment around the lair.  GRATUITOUS DOCTOR WHO REFERENCE

2)  Offer to shave him.

1)  Tell him that the truism about feet doesn't apply in his case.

36th Confession

I write this tonight with a heavy heart; another family has lost an infant daughter.  Pray for the Myers family of Ellwood City; their dear Gabriella dances in fields of grace tonight, in a land where there is no pain.  May the Comforter who stands closer than a brother wrap His arms around them as they face the next days of pain and darkness.

Hug your kids a little closer tomorrow for me, 'kay?

35th Confession

So there's talk about this new asteroid with a life form on it that can survive on arsenic, blah blah blah.  It led a couple of people to ask the famous question that science asks of religion every time it learns something new: "Where is your God now?"  Sadly, most institutional Christians aren't conversant in basic science, let alone their own faith, to point out that one has no bearing on the other.

I mean, let's face it: most Christians aren't cut out to be scientists.  Most people overall aren't, either; if it were easy, everyone would be doing it!  But my concern is that scientists have lost sight of what science can and cannot do.

Science can measure things that are able to be measured empirically.  Length?  Check.  Weight?  Check.  Time?  Check.  Quality of life?  Not a chance.  Beauty?  No scale exists.  Amount of love between humans?  Not happening.

See, empiricism can start to make definitions up about things like this:  95% of people surveyed found that a monkfish is uglier than Megan Fox, therefore one could safely say that Megan Fox is more attractive to a monkfish.  For example.  Although, honestly?  That monkfish has got a purdy mouth...

But can it create a scale of how poigniant van Gogh's Starry Night is compared to Munch's The Scream?  I mean, one would have to factor in emotional subtexts, cultural and personal memories, number of times seen, and a plethora of other factors to determine a value, which in the end is arbitrary.

To attempt to use reason to evaluate something that is not easily measurable is futile.  At best, you end up with a useless set of data and a half-baked scale.  At worst, you end up with something entirely wrong.

And that brings me to a set of secular humanist billboards I saw while driving past Philadelphia.  Secular humanism is an offshoot of atheism, rejecting religious dogma as a basis for ethical behavior and justice.  Fair enough for fair warning, however: your cultural mindset is so entrenched in Biblical principles, you'd need at least four generations of dogmatic brainwashing to completely rinse the Bible out of your mind.  We're currently on generation three of secular humanism, and you're still basing your ethical code out of the Bible.

The problem with any ethical code is determining "right" and "wrong."  Some things are "wrong" implicitly: murder, rape, torture, etc., because they undermine the other individuals human liberties.  However, is something "more wrong" than something else?  Stealing is "wrong", but is it better or worse than murder?  Murder is "wrong", but is killing someone who had been intent on killing you worse than the original murderous intent?  And thus, a scale is born: a penal code based on something that is measured in values that cannot be set in concrete. 

And any scale that has no absolutes is no scale that I would want to ever be near.

34th Confession

Boutros Boutros Ghali was the name of a car that my wife's friend Edy had back when they were both in high school.  It was a small car, fitting inside a small plastic casing, having its origins in China.  It was bought with a quarter at a certain grocery store from one of those machines that children beg and beg their parents to use to procure toys or gum, candies or stickers, and even perhaps the random temporary tattoo.

Boutros Boutros Ghali (or BBG, as we shall lovingly call him from here on out) spent many a happy hour with Edy and Joy during their high school times.  Why he was christened "BBG" as opposed to "Ethel," "Fred," or other customary names is unclear; however, we know that the students at Edison high school have penchants for long, uncommon names.  Other cases include the cardboard cow "Biakabutuka", and the twin platypuses "Bubba Azariah Dufu Odabee" and "Dufu Odabee Bubba Azariah."

BBG was called "one of the most important people in the world" second only to "Flibber Flabber Flinger Boo-Boo" in one of my favorite Get Fuzzy strips from long, long ago; however, Stephen Fry on the quiz program QI informs us that the name literally means "Peter Peter-Expensive".  Interestingly enough, I agree with his views on bureaucrats: they are best dealt with through "stealth and sudden violence."

I find that, the more I write about this man and this car, I am drawn to the American flaw of "his name sounds weird." "Peter" isn't a weird name: he eats pumpkins, shoots web (when he remembers how), writes epistles, chops slaves' ears off ("It happened one time, okay?  Geez, can't we let it go already?"), walked on water, and comes from an alternate universe, to name a few.  But can you imagine Boutros Barker, bit  by a radioactive spider?  Boutros reminding you to be good to your wife?

In other musings, I was once described as "rude to leadership."  I suppose this might be true.  But I also wonder whether or not it's "rude" to attempt to build a relationship on Imperialistic principles.  It's 3:30 AM when I write this; in my sleep-deprived recollections, I'm usually pretty kind to leaders who take the time to develop a relationship with me through mutual transactions of respect.  They respect the work I do, I don't count them as a jerk; they respectfully coach me on how to get better, I respect them more.  That;s how respect is earned: through mutual dispersion.  If a person's character warrants it, respect can be commanded:  military personnel, for example, receive respect from me, not because of my relationship with them, but because of their service to our country. 

Generally, however, the more I learn about my leader, the less I can respect them.  The less time in relationship they spend with me, the more their character is revealed by their actions and words.  The more of their character I can analyze, the less I "know" them - and yet, I "know" their type.  And most of the time, that's enough.

33rd Confession

Well...I'm stuck.  First comment gets to pick the next topic of conversation. Go.