So again, I believe that the driving force behind religious practice and superstitious behavior or belief is our insatiable need for meaning. In the book group I lead, we have been reading "On the Mystery" by Catherine Keller. It's a book about process theology, and it's been a rich and interesting challenge for us that has provided much fruitful and thick conversation.
One of the things that she repeats over and over again is the idea of life as "open-ended interactivity." Early on in the book, she critiques the idea of God as omnipotent. She talks about all the things that are wrong with many historical interpretations of the idea of "God's will."
And it's true that people have some really bizarre, inconsistent yet fervently held beliefs about God's will.
I think part of that fervor comes from a deep fear of meaninglessness. We are terrified by the idea that life is random and largely a matter of chance.
One fascinating way this plays out in some churches is in how we deal with the idea of "luck."
Where I'm from, when people bring food to church for a shared meal, we called it a "potluck." Here in the Heart of Dixie, it's usually called a "covered dish meal". This struck me as odd (and inconvenient, since potluck is so much shorter).
It didn't seem to be a huge deal at my church, more just what they were used to. But I asked around a little and discovered fascinating things. One woman told me that someone else had told her that you shouldn't use the word "potluck" because it starts with the same letters as Lucifer!
I have a woman in my church who will correct herself if she starts to say that a certain happening was "lucky". What is amusing is that the word she inserts instead is "fortunate" which doesn't seem any better to me at all, if you think about it.
This issue has also arisen in my life recently in the debate about whether it is okay to have a raffle at a church-sponsored fund-raiser or not. I was all set to have this happen, at a fund-raiser for an organization whose board I'm on. But the agency director ixnayed it. He offered me all these ridiculous excuses about how the volunteers would be mad about the extra work and confusion, none of which I was buying since I'd already checked it out with those folks. His real reason was that he considers a raffle (the kind where you buy a ticket for, say, a buck and then one person wins half the take and the other half goes to the organization) gambling, a game of chance, and thus, clearly an immoral activity that should not be done in a church setting.
Let me say right here that I have very strong feelings about gambling. But they have nothing to do with a situation like this. I am opposed to gambling (real gambling) because it involves playing with money, when there are so many people in the world who don't have enough money. To me, entertaining yourself by playing with money, acting as though it doesn't matter if you win or lose it, trivializes the dire need of so many people around the world.
A raffle, on the other hand, held to support the work of a non-profit agency dedicated to helping people in need, is practically the opposite. The chance involved is merely an incentive to get people to give more money to the cause.
We clearly have different reasons for opposing gambling, reasons that cause us to define gambling or gambling's immorality to be precise, differently.
What is strange to me is the idea that anything that focuses on the reality of chance is considered immoral. It's like it's considered rude to point out, in God's house, that things are random.
I think this is related to some people's need to believe that nothing is chance because God is in complete control. To indulge in games of chance is considered offensive, partially because it's seen as testing God's will, but also, I suspect, because it forces people to question their comfortable presumption that God is controlling every last detail.
The truth is that lots of things are going to happen that we cannot adequately explain. Some will turn to the mystery of God's will. Many will describe it as "luck" without quite knowing what we mean by that. We crave meaning and cannot get enough of it, so we make it up where we wish it was.
Personally, I'm fine with continuing on as Lucky Fresh. The random chance of the world may seem to open a terrifying abyss, but I prefer to see it as beautiful and tasty.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Halloween Series -- Superstition and Religion -- Part Two
So in Part One, I shared a personal experience about the way we make meaning out of the events of our lives and even ascribe "divine guidance" abilties to them. You may think I'm crazy. But I'm not the only one.
Once I had that experience, I started noticing it everywhere.
I'm guessing everyone reading this has, at least once, been in a situation where someone (you or someone else) does that thing where, when looking into scripture for guidance, you open the book to "wherever" it opens and look for the message you're supposed to receive on that page.
My spiritual director has done this with me. I know it's a common practice. But I don't see how it qualifies as anything other than Bible-related superstition. There is no tenet of Christianity that suggests that the Holy Spirit controls our fingers and gravity and the paper and glue of the book's binding in such a way that the message we need to receive at any particular moment will be on the page that naturally is revealed. That's crazy. Yet people do it all the time.
Closely related to what we commonly call superstition is ancestor worship. Most Christians, in this country at least, would insist that they do not engage in ancestor worship. But if you look at what happens in countless congregations, you will see that this is not exactly true.
A colleague recently had a deacon leave the church because he thought the pastor had said the King James Bible wasn't true. What my friend in actuality said, in a sermon about women in leadership, was that the KJV had turned Junia into Junio. That was it. But you know how people are about the King James Bible.
What's funny about so much of the idolatry around the KJV is that it's Baptists (and other free church traditions) doing it, about an Anglican translation. But even that more recent history (as compared the more ancient texts that have been discovered since the KJV was completed) is not as recent as these people insist on elevating. They want to use the KJV because it is the book of their ancestors, their recent ancestors, the ones they remember.
This seems like a form of ancestor worship to me. The thing that is elevated, the thing that is held up as important and definitive, is the practice of the recent blood-line, the tribalism, rather than the universalism of the actual biblical witness. "This is how my daddy did it, and how my daddy's daddy did it, and dadgum, I'm going to do it that way too!"
One might also look at the practice of affixing little brass plaques as a symptom of ancestor worship too.
Once I had that experience, I started noticing it everywhere.
I'm guessing everyone reading this has, at least once, been in a situation where someone (you or someone else) does that thing where, when looking into scripture for guidance, you open the book to "wherever" it opens and look for the message you're supposed to receive on that page.
My spiritual director has done this with me. I know it's a common practice. But I don't see how it qualifies as anything other than Bible-related superstition. There is no tenet of Christianity that suggests that the Holy Spirit controls our fingers and gravity and the paper and glue of the book's binding in such a way that the message we need to receive at any particular moment will be on the page that naturally is revealed. That's crazy. Yet people do it all the time.
Closely related to what we commonly call superstition is ancestor worship. Most Christians, in this country at least, would insist that they do not engage in ancestor worship. But if you look at what happens in countless congregations, you will see that this is not exactly true.
A colleague recently had a deacon leave the church because he thought the pastor had said the King James Bible wasn't true. What my friend in actuality said, in a sermon about women in leadership, was that the KJV had turned Junia into Junio. That was it. But you know how people are about the King James Bible.
What's funny about so much of the idolatry around the KJV is that it's Baptists (and other free church traditions) doing it, about an Anglican translation. But even that more recent history (as compared the more ancient texts that have been discovered since the KJV was completed) is not as recent as these people insist on elevating. They want to use the KJV because it is the book of their ancestors, their recent ancestors, the ones they remember.
This seems like a form of ancestor worship to me. The thing that is elevated, the thing that is held up as important and definitive, is the practice of the recent blood-line, the tribalism, rather than the universalism of the actual biblical witness. "This is how my daddy did it, and how my daddy's daddy did it, and dadgum, I'm going to do it that way too!"
One might also look at the practice of affixing little brass plaques as a symptom of ancestor worship too.
Halloween Series -- Superstition and Religion -- Part One
I have been contemplating the fine, fuzzy, often unclear line between superstition and religion a lot recently. Really, whether a particular belief or practice is an act of faith or a superstition is mostly a matter of perspective.
It seems to me that the driving force behind all of it is the human's fervent search for meaning. We desire meaning so badly that we create it even when it's nonsensical to do so. The question is where "legitimate" faith ends and nonsensical begins.
Take for instance, an experience I had a couple weeks ago. I have been dogged for many months by a broken relationship. I have gone back and forth and back and forth about whether it is appropriate for me to make another effort at reconciliation. Numerous people had told me it would be pointless. And I mostly suspected they were right. Still, there was part of me that wanted to be able to know I had tried. So at one point, I had made the decision to make a phone call and, assuming I would be talking to voice mail, leave a clear and conciliatory message, with no expectation of response.
I knew that doing this would require a tremendous amount of emotional energy, in preparing my message and then actually leaving it, not to mention dealing with the slight chance that the phone might actually get picked up. I had determined that there was a certain window of time within which this would need to be accomplished, due to various circumstances.
So the day came, and what happened? I had printer problems. Serious, crazy-making printer problems. The kind that consume an insane amount of time. We had a deadline for these things that had to be created, and my printer was the only one that could do them effectively, except that it wasn't cooperating. Four trips to the office supply store later, I realized my window of opportunity for making that hard phone call had passed.
And bizarrely, I interpreted that as a sign, a sign that I wasn't "supposed" to make the phone call. I know that is crazy, but I did it anyway, on multiple levels. On a rationalization level (not a rational level, mind you), it was nice to have an excuse not to do it. But on a completely irrational level, I feel like my psyche interpreted it as a sign too, because the pressure I had been feeling to reach out, despite my expectations of the futility of doing so, was relieved.
God, the universe, fate, something had used my printer and its reluctant cartridges to keep me from doing something. That was how it felt, at a very primal level. I had been struggling to know what to do about the situation, and finally, I had received guidance.
Now, mind you, it seems crazy to me to say all this. But my emotional self doesn't seem to care what's crazy and what's not. It just knows that it's been released from a major source of stress.
Superstition. It's such a weird thing. We denigrate it so much, and yet, we cannot escape it.
It seems to me that the driving force behind all of it is the human's fervent search for meaning. We desire meaning so badly that we create it even when it's nonsensical to do so. The question is where "legitimate" faith ends and nonsensical begins.
Take for instance, an experience I had a couple weeks ago. I have been dogged for many months by a broken relationship. I have gone back and forth and back and forth about whether it is appropriate for me to make another effort at reconciliation. Numerous people had told me it would be pointless. And I mostly suspected they were right. Still, there was part of me that wanted to be able to know I had tried. So at one point, I had made the decision to make a phone call and, assuming I would be talking to voice mail, leave a clear and conciliatory message, with no expectation of response.
I knew that doing this would require a tremendous amount of emotional energy, in preparing my message and then actually leaving it, not to mention dealing with the slight chance that the phone might actually get picked up. I had determined that there was a certain window of time within which this would need to be accomplished, due to various circumstances.
So the day came, and what happened? I had printer problems. Serious, crazy-making printer problems. The kind that consume an insane amount of time. We had a deadline for these things that had to be created, and my printer was the only one that could do them effectively, except that it wasn't cooperating. Four trips to the office supply store later, I realized my window of opportunity for making that hard phone call had passed.
And bizarrely, I interpreted that as a sign, a sign that I wasn't "supposed" to make the phone call. I know that is crazy, but I did it anyway, on multiple levels. On a rationalization level (not a rational level, mind you), it was nice to have an excuse not to do it. But on a completely irrational level, I feel like my psyche interpreted it as a sign too, because the pressure I had been feeling to reach out, despite my expectations of the futility of doing so, was relieved.
God, the universe, fate, something had used my printer and its reluctant cartridges to keep me from doing something. That was how it felt, at a very primal level. I had been struggling to know what to do about the situation, and finally, I had received guidance.
Now, mind you, it seems crazy to me to say all this. But my emotional self doesn't seem to care what's crazy and what's not. It just knows that it's been released from a major source of stress.
Superstition. It's such a weird thing. We denigrate it so much, and yet, we cannot escape it.
Humor as Confession
I noticed something the other day...
At our mid-week prayer service, the sharing of joys and concerns got a little out of control. It turned into something more like a conversation. At some point, someone asked me if I had gotten or would be getting a flu shot.
Oh my, no! I don't do shots. I try to avoid having to do anything at all involving needles.
And in the course of answering this question, I quipped that I "depend on sheer will power to keep me healthy."
I was joking. Sort of. Mostly. I think.
The thing is that it's sort of true. I am aware of myself as a person who is mostly healthy, who works hard and doesn't "have time to get sick." I don't think I'm a workaholic. I mostly take my day off on Mondays, and when I do have the sense that illness might be creeping up on me I take the first opportunity to get some rest, which usually nips it in the bud. Last night, for instance, I had been planning to go to a high school football game to hear a church kid play trombone. But I had the teeniest whisper of a sore throat, which usually means I should take it easy, inside surrounded by blankets, rather than sit outside in the cold and wet. So I didn't go.
But I do have some sense that I will myself to stay well. And yes, I am aware that that is pretty much an act of sinful hubris.
So when I made this "joke" in prayer service, I would submit that it was as much an act of confession as an act of humor. Perhaps it could be both.
What made me realize all this was one of the reactions to my comment. There was a man present (not a regular) who is not particularly skilled at picking up social clues. When I said that, he responded by saying that he relies on God's grace and God's healing and God's power to keep himself and his family healthy. He wasn't exactly calling me on the carpet, but it got pretty close. He clearly hadn't understood that I was joking.
Or maybe he understood that I wasn't joking. I don't know. It was an odd moment. Because of course he was right, if you add in the benefits of modern medicine that most of us avail ourselves of. And of course, to act as though I keep myself well by sheer force of will was a display of hubris.
But the whole point of saying such a thing, with the tone of voice I used, in that particular context was to point out how ridiculous it is that I pretend it's possible to keep myself well.
I'm not sure I've ever thought about humor as a context for confession before, but this experience leads me to believe we do it a lot. We know that things are funny because they're true. So when we exaggerate things, pretending that we're "putting on" it is also confession, because we know that there is truth there also and we're mocking ourselves.
Good thing laughter is good for your health!
At our mid-week prayer service, the sharing of joys and concerns got a little out of control. It turned into something more like a conversation. At some point, someone asked me if I had gotten or would be getting a flu shot.
Oh my, no! I don't do shots. I try to avoid having to do anything at all involving needles.
And in the course of answering this question, I quipped that I "depend on sheer will power to keep me healthy."
I was joking. Sort of. Mostly. I think.
The thing is that it's sort of true. I am aware of myself as a person who is mostly healthy, who works hard and doesn't "have time to get sick." I don't think I'm a workaholic. I mostly take my day off on Mondays, and when I do have the sense that illness might be creeping up on me I take the first opportunity to get some rest, which usually nips it in the bud. Last night, for instance, I had been planning to go to a high school football game to hear a church kid play trombone. But I had the teeniest whisper of a sore throat, which usually means I should take it easy, inside surrounded by blankets, rather than sit outside in the cold and wet. So I didn't go.
But I do have some sense that I will myself to stay well. And yes, I am aware that that is pretty much an act of sinful hubris.
So when I made this "joke" in prayer service, I would submit that it was as much an act of confession as an act of humor. Perhaps it could be both.
What made me realize all this was one of the reactions to my comment. There was a man present (not a regular) who is not particularly skilled at picking up social clues. When I said that, he responded by saying that he relies on God's grace and God's healing and God's power to keep himself and his family healthy. He wasn't exactly calling me on the carpet, but it got pretty close. He clearly hadn't understood that I was joking.
Or maybe he understood that I wasn't joking. I don't know. It was an odd moment. Because of course he was right, if you add in the benefits of modern medicine that most of us avail ourselves of. And of course, to act as though I keep myself well by sheer force of will was a display of hubris.
But the whole point of saying such a thing, with the tone of voice I used, in that particular context was to point out how ridiculous it is that I pretend it's possible to keep myself well.
I'm not sure I've ever thought about humor as a context for confession before, but this experience leads me to believe we do it a lot. We know that things are funny because they're true. So when we exaggerate things, pretending that we're "putting on" it is also confession, because we know that there is truth there also and we're mocking ourselves.
Good thing laughter is good for your health!
Why I'm Not Watching "Mad Men"
I know that some of you are huge fans of the relatively new show "Mad Men." Please forgive me.
I will freely admit that I was prejudiced going in. We got the disks from Netflix, I suppose because Dear Husband put them on the list.
I agreed to watch an episode or two. But I did not have a particularly open mind. I had somehow gotten the impression that "Mad Men" glamorized the early 60s, including the gender roles that were prevalent at the time. It seemed like it must be a symptom of backlash to feminism. (Such things do abound, after all.)
But once we were actually watching, once I had let go of my pre-conceived notions, I realized that the problem was different and more complex than that.
One could argue that the set and costume design does contribute to a certain amount of glamorization. But the writing? The actual experience of the gender roles and the interaction between sexes? I didn't find it romanticized at all.
I found it to be what I can only assume is painfully accurate. I wasn't alive in 1960, and I wasn't working as a secretary in an advertising agency. And I thank God for that. I couldn't take it. I couldn't even take watching it.
So I have decided that I do not have a moral problem with the show, because I don't believe they are glamorizing screwed-up systems of inequality. In fact, you could perhaps argue that they are exposing them.
But I can't watch it. It feels suffocating to me, and I don't enjoy being suffocated. For those who can stand it, and I understand it may get better further into the show, go for it. But I am choosing not to watch.
I will freely admit that I was prejudiced going in. We got the disks from Netflix, I suppose because Dear Husband put them on the list.
I agreed to watch an episode or two. But I did not have a particularly open mind. I had somehow gotten the impression that "Mad Men" glamorized the early 60s, including the gender roles that were prevalent at the time. It seemed like it must be a symptom of backlash to feminism. (Such things do abound, after all.)
But once we were actually watching, once I had let go of my pre-conceived notions, I realized that the problem was different and more complex than that.
One could argue that the set and costume design does contribute to a certain amount of glamorization. But the writing? The actual experience of the gender roles and the interaction between sexes? I didn't find it romanticized at all.
I found it to be what I can only assume is painfully accurate. I wasn't alive in 1960, and I wasn't working as a secretary in an advertising agency. And I thank God for that. I couldn't take it. I couldn't even take watching it.
So I have decided that I do not have a moral problem with the show, because I don't believe they are glamorizing screwed-up systems of inequality. In fact, you could perhaps argue that they are exposing them.
But I can't watch it. It feels suffocating to me, and I don't enjoy being suffocated. For those who can stand it, and I understand it may get better further into the show, go for it. But I am choosing not to watch.
The Source of Offense (and a recipe)
Recently, I have resurrected (with the help of my mother -- Thanks, Mom!) a recipe from my childhood. It is a recipe for chocolatey, oatmealy refrigerator cookies.
I was so excited about these cookies that I posted about them (including the recipe) on facebook. But that meant I had to use their name.
The cookies, in their original context -- which is my mother's 4-H cookbook, so, the 1950s -- were called "Eskimo Cookies."
I thought quite a bit about whether this is an offensive name or not. I decided, at first, to go ahead and use it. And I did get some push-back.
First of all, as most of you know, "Eskimo" is a name put upon a people who call themselves "Inuits". So you're already treading into the territory of denying self-determination. So should we call them "Inuit Cookies"?
Somehow that also seems wrong.
I had thought a lot about why these cookies had this name in the first place. Because they are chocolate in the middle, with a powdered sugar coating, I wanted to make damn sure that the name wasn't a reference to their color. (Something like the opposite of the racial slur "oreo".) As far as I could figure out, that probably wasn't what the name was about, since it didn't really make any sense.
So I decided it must just be a reference to the fact that they are refrigerator cookies, i.e. cold cookies. It might also have to do with the fact that they look like mini snow balls, since they're covered in powdered sugar.
So. Coldness, possibly snow. Temperature is not generally considered something that qualifies as a slur. Does that make it okay?
I decided it does not. Because calling a cold cookie, a cookie that lives in a cold place an "Eskimo cookie" has the effect of reducing the Eskimos, or shall we say, the Inuits, to people who live in the cold. It is offensive because it is reductionist, and therefore, de-humanizing. There are many realities about the Inuit people besides the fact that they live where it's cold. To imply that their essence is summed up by something you keep in the fridge is to diminish their unique complexity as a people.
I believe it is this reductionism that is at the root of most offensive uses of groups' names. But we usually don't talk about it that explicitly. We talk about generalizations or stereotypes; we talk about whether something is derogatory or not. But the truth is that it's diminishing to emphasize one characteristic above all others because it reduces people's humanity. That should be enough of a reason to avoid doing it.
Thus, I have re-named this dessert. I am now calling them Bon Bons.
Here is the recipe for Bon Bons:
Soften 1 and 1/2 sticks of butter (3/4 cup).
Mix in 3/4 cup sugar.
Add 1 tablespoon water, 1/2 teaspoon vanilla, and 3 tablespoons cocoa.
Stir in 2 cups of oats.
Chill in fridge for a good long while. (4-H says overnight. I think an hour does it just fine.)
Shape dough into balls and roll them in powdered sugar.
Keep in the cold, wintery refrigerator. (Humor is also important!)
I was so excited about these cookies that I posted about them (including the recipe) on facebook. But that meant I had to use their name.
The cookies, in their original context -- which is my mother's 4-H cookbook, so, the 1950s -- were called "Eskimo Cookies."
I thought quite a bit about whether this is an offensive name or not. I decided, at first, to go ahead and use it. And I did get some push-back.
First of all, as most of you know, "Eskimo" is a name put upon a people who call themselves "Inuits". So you're already treading into the territory of denying self-determination. So should we call them "Inuit Cookies"?
Somehow that also seems wrong.
I had thought a lot about why these cookies had this name in the first place. Because they are chocolate in the middle, with a powdered sugar coating, I wanted to make damn sure that the name wasn't a reference to their color. (Something like the opposite of the racial slur "oreo".) As far as I could figure out, that probably wasn't what the name was about, since it didn't really make any sense.
So I decided it must just be a reference to the fact that they are refrigerator cookies, i.e. cold cookies. It might also have to do with the fact that they look like mini snow balls, since they're covered in powdered sugar.
So. Coldness, possibly snow. Temperature is not generally considered something that qualifies as a slur. Does that make it okay?
I decided it does not. Because calling a cold cookie, a cookie that lives in a cold place an "Eskimo cookie" has the effect of reducing the Eskimos, or shall we say, the Inuits, to people who live in the cold. It is offensive because it is reductionist, and therefore, de-humanizing. There are many realities about the Inuit people besides the fact that they live where it's cold. To imply that their essence is summed up by something you keep in the fridge is to diminish their unique complexity as a people.
I believe it is this reductionism that is at the root of most offensive uses of groups' names. But we usually don't talk about it that explicitly. We talk about generalizations or stereotypes; we talk about whether something is derogatory or not. But the truth is that it's diminishing to emphasize one characteristic above all others because it reduces people's humanity. That should be enough of a reason to avoid doing it.
Thus, I have re-named this dessert. I am now calling them Bon Bons.
Here is the recipe for Bon Bons:
Soften 1 and 1/2 sticks of butter (3/4 cup).
Mix in 3/4 cup sugar.
Add 1 tablespoon water, 1/2 teaspoon vanilla, and 3 tablespoons cocoa.
Stir in 2 cups of oats.
Chill in fridge for a good long while. (4-H says overnight. I think an hour does it just fine.)
Shape dough into balls and roll them in powdered sugar.
Keep in the cold, wintery refrigerator. (Humor is also important!)
Censorship
There has been a lot written lately about the "new social media" that have emerged in our society -- Facebook, Twitter and others. Much of the commentary has focused on the shifts in assumptions and expectations about privacy.
I'm just realizing that these new media may affect another aspect of our society: censorship.
I discovered this because I myself became the censor.
Yesterday, one of my status updates said: "Lucky Fresh just got an email from her congressman titled 'Public Option: No Choices, Just Government-run Health Care'. Do you think he assumes we don't know what the word 'option' means? Or is he being deliberately mis-leading?"
Yes, I was disgusted. Yes, it was a little snarky. But as it turns out, I may have been biting off more than I was in the mood to chew.
One friend immediately chimed in with the answer "Both."
But then another facebook friend, who happens to be a cousin I hardly know who happens to be a right-winger, chimed in with a comment that, from my perspective, was insulting to the president.
And at that point, I realized I was just not in the mood for another debate about all that. And I wasn't in the mood to see his obnoxious comment there on my profile page.
So I deleted it.
A few more people chimed in later, including him, though his second comment was less clear and less annoying. But it didn't turn into the debate I was trying to avoid. I was glad. (I had also quickly changed my status update to something quirky and cheerful, so as to distract attention from it.)
But it got me to thinking. I'm not sure I've ever deleted someone else's comment before. I've usually felt like people have the right to express themselves.
Earlier this week, a debate about paid sick leave raged below my status update for a day or so. One person wrote in to say that "Arguing on someone else's facebook page feels rude. I'm sure there are other formats that would facilitate a reasonable discussion of this important topic."
That seemed weird to me. I had started the discussion and actually didn't find it as heated as some people evidently did. So why was someone else (who didn't even have to read it if she didn't want to, as she hadn't commented previously or 'liked' my update) trying to stifle conversation? Perhaps she doesn't have as many mouthy friends and friends of friends as I do, but I've seen lots of people having debates on one person's facebook page. Seems that's one of the major things some people do on facebook.
Except the other day, I wasn't in the mood. And because it was on my page, I had the authority to delete whatever I wanted. And I did. Is that censorship?
What this reminds me of is another threat to public discourse. In recent decades, the whole reality of "the public square" has been diminished. Yes, we still have parks, and some towns still have commons with stores that people frequent. But in most places, the mall has replaced the town square. And there is one major difference between a town square and a mall when it comes to free expression: a mall is private property. There is no right to hold a protest at a mall.
Which is a problem, if you want to hold a protest in a place people will actually see you. Because the mall is where the people are. Yet, there is no right to present your opinions there.
Is my facebook page like a mall? Is it my private property? (Actually, it's not. It belongs to the facebook people, which is a whole other issue. For the sake of this debate, however, I exercise control over what's deleted or not, so it's "mine".) Do I have a right to censor what is written on my page? Facebook seems to think so, or it wouldn't give me the ability to do so.
What will this mean for the future of public debate? Will these social media affect our concepts of censorship the way they are supposedly affecting our understandings of privacy? I don't know.
I think most people, myself included, have some sense that one should be restrained in deleting other people's comments. It's obvious that just because someone posts something on your page that doesn't mean that you agree with them. And most people do not want the reputation of only listening to people who agree with them. So mostly, I think people will not delete comments without good reason.
Is not being in the mood for a debate a good reason? I'm not sure.
I'm just realizing that these new media may affect another aspect of our society: censorship.
I discovered this because I myself became the censor.
Yesterday, one of my status updates said: "Lucky Fresh just got an email from her congressman titled 'Public Option: No Choices, Just Government-run Health Care'. Do you think he assumes we don't know what the word 'option' means? Or is he being deliberately mis-leading?"
Yes, I was disgusted. Yes, it was a little snarky. But as it turns out, I may have been biting off more than I was in the mood to chew.
One friend immediately chimed in with the answer "Both."
But then another facebook friend, who happens to be a cousin I hardly know who happens to be a right-winger, chimed in with a comment that, from my perspective, was insulting to the president.
And at that point, I realized I was just not in the mood for another debate about all that. And I wasn't in the mood to see his obnoxious comment there on my profile page.
So I deleted it.
A few more people chimed in later, including him, though his second comment was less clear and less annoying. But it didn't turn into the debate I was trying to avoid. I was glad. (I had also quickly changed my status update to something quirky and cheerful, so as to distract attention from it.)
But it got me to thinking. I'm not sure I've ever deleted someone else's comment before. I've usually felt like people have the right to express themselves.
Earlier this week, a debate about paid sick leave raged below my status update for a day or so. One person wrote in to say that "Arguing on someone else's facebook page feels rude. I'm sure there are other formats that would facilitate a reasonable discussion of this important topic."
That seemed weird to me. I had started the discussion and actually didn't find it as heated as some people evidently did. So why was someone else (who didn't even have to read it if she didn't want to, as she hadn't commented previously or 'liked' my update) trying to stifle conversation? Perhaps she doesn't have as many mouthy friends and friends of friends as I do, but I've seen lots of people having debates on one person's facebook page. Seems that's one of the major things some people do on facebook.
Except the other day, I wasn't in the mood. And because it was on my page, I had the authority to delete whatever I wanted. And I did. Is that censorship?
What this reminds me of is another threat to public discourse. In recent decades, the whole reality of "the public square" has been diminished. Yes, we still have parks, and some towns still have commons with stores that people frequent. But in most places, the mall has replaced the town square. And there is one major difference between a town square and a mall when it comes to free expression: a mall is private property. There is no right to hold a protest at a mall.
Which is a problem, if you want to hold a protest in a place people will actually see you. Because the mall is where the people are. Yet, there is no right to present your opinions there.
Is my facebook page like a mall? Is it my private property? (Actually, it's not. It belongs to the facebook people, which is a whole other issue. For the sake of this debate, however, I exercise control over what's deleted or not, so it's "mine".) Do I have a right to censor what is written on my page? Facebook seems to think so, or it wouldn't give me the ability to do so.
What will this mean for the future of public debate? Will these social media affect our concepts of censorship the way they are supposedly affecting our understandings of privacy? I don't know.
I think most people, myself included, have some sense that one should be restrained in deleting other people's comments. It's obvious that just because someone posts something on your page that doesn't mean that you agree with them. And most people do not want the reputation of only listening to people who agree with them. So mostly, I think people will not delete comments without good reason.
Is not being in the mood for a debate a good reason? I'm not sure.
Friday, October 30, 2009
The Latest Work of Maira Kalman
My favorite opinion illustrator columnist, Maira Kalman, has another "column" out in the NYT. She's visited the capital and reports on what she learned.
Her pictures and drawings made me realize that even though I've been to DC numerous times, I've never actually been in a government building. She mentions that one of the people who worked on the capitol building had previously worked on the Vatican. It was weird how similar the styles of decor are. What does that mean?
Anyway, you should check it out. She has such an uplifting, appreciative, focus-on-the-best-in-us approach to life.
Her pictures and drawings made me realize that even though I've been to DC numerous times, I've never actually been in a government building. She mentions that one of the people who worked on the capitol building had previously worked on the Vatican. It was weird how similar the styles of decor are. What does that mean?
Anyway, you should check it out. She has such an uplifting, appreciative, focus-on-the-best-in-us approach to life.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Grammar as Class Warfare
There is a pretty interesting review of what looks to be a very interesting new book about grammar in Salon.
The author of the book is apparently suggesting that most grammer rule enforcement (or attempted enforcement) is little more than class warfare. There are also some interesting historical tidbits, for example that the words "donate" and "inaugurate" were considered abominations when they first appeared. (By somebody)
The author suggests that the only sensible rules for grammar are those that exist for the interest of clarity. Clarity is a very important value to me when it comes to language. In fact, one of the reasons I am such a big fan of English is because it has so many words and thus, has high potential to offer clarity. I do not know a ton of other languages, but I've been around some of them enough to notice that they have many words that have to mean various different things. That seems confusing to me.
Another interesting point in the article is that some of our supposed grammar rules are there simply because they were rules in Latin. But they didn't really translate all that well, for instance, the rule about not splitting infinitives.
Anyway, you should read it.
The author of the book is apparently suggesting that most grammer rule enforcement (or attempted enforcement) is little more than class warfare. There are also some interesting historical tidbits, for example that the words "donate" and "inaugurate" were considered abominations when they first appeared. (By somebody)
The author suggests that the only sensible rules for grammar are those that exist for the interest of clarity. Clarity is a very important value to me when it comes to language. In fact, one of the reasons I am such a big fan of English is because it has so many words and thus, has high potential to offer clarity. I do not know a ton of other languages, but I've been around some of them enough to notice that they have many words that have to mean various different things. That seems confusing to me.
Another interesting point in the article is that some of our supposed grammar rules are there simply because they were rules in Latin. But they didn't really translate all that well, for instance, the rule about not splitting infinitives.
Anyway, you should read it.
Fall Oddity
So the leaves are finally starting to change around here. I know some of you have already had snow come and go, but I do live in the Heart of Dixie.
Many people find fall a beautiful time because of the vibrant colors of the dying leaves. For some reasons, I associate autumn landscape pictures with jigsaw puzzles from the 70s. The ones that are probably missing pieces because they were bought at a yard sale and have been in the back of the closet for a while. But I do like fall trees in person, especially maples that turn bright red or anything that turns bright yellow.
We are privileged, at our house, to have a gingko tree. (Not to be sexist, but it's a boy tree, and we're glad.) Gingkos do their fall thing a little bit different than most trees. I think they're actually way older than many varieties of tree, but I might have made that part up. So maybe they were the first draft of fall beauty. It got more complex after that.
Gingkos are unusual, because their leaves are a very uniform color of green. And when they change color, they change to an almost completely uniform color of yellow. And, normally, the whole tree does it all at once. Like all in a day or so, or so it seems if you're not paying close attention.
But the gingko tree in our backyard, for reasons unknown, is even more unusual than that. Because it doesn't change all at once. The back half changes first, and then the front half catches up a couple days later.
I don't know if it's because it's pretty close to the house, and the front half stays warmer from radiating heat; or because the back half gets more strong afternoon sunlight, whereas the front half is shaded by the house and the tall trees in the front yard most of the day; or for some other reason, but the line between the two halves is remarkably pronounced.
It's just started, so the back is almost yellow, and the front half's green is just beginning to fade. This is one of those times when I wish I were cool enough to post pictures to my blog, but I'm not, so you'll just have to use your imagination.
Many people find fall a beautiful time because of the vibrant colors of the dying leaves. For some reasons, I associate autumn landscape pictures with jigsaw puzzles from the 70s. The ones that are probably missing pieces because they were bought at a yard sale and have been in the back of the closet for a while. But I do like fall trees in person, especially maples that turn bright red or anything that turns bright yellow.
We are privileged, at our house, to have a gingko tree. (Not to be sexist, but it's a boy tree, and we're glad.) Gingkos do their fall thing a little bit different than most trees. I think they're actually way older than many varieties of tree, but I might have made that part up. So maybe they were the first draft of fall beauty. It got more complex after that.
Gingkos are unusual, because their leaves are a very uniform color of green. And when they change color, they change to an almost completely uniform color of yellow. And, normally, the whole tree does it all at once. Like all in a day or so, or so it seems if you're not paying close attention.
But the gingko tree in our backyard, for reasons unknown, is even more unusual than that. Because it doesn't change all at once. The back half changes first, and then the front half catches up a couple days later.
I don't know if it's because it's pretty close to the house, and the front half stays warmer from radiating heat; or because the back half gets more strong afternoon sunlight, whereas the front half is shaded by the house and the tall trees in the front yard most of the day; or for some other reason, but the line between the two halves is remarkably pronounced.
It's just started, so the back is almost yellow, and the front half's green is just beginning to fade. This is one of those times when I wish I were cool enough to post pictures to my blog, but I'm not, so you'll just have to use your imagination.
Sometimes Nice Isn't the Only Thing You Need
So recently, I've been having to deal with this extraordinarily rude woman. For reasons unknown to me, she has evidently decided that I did something (or didn't do something) unforgivable to her. She's not a church member; she's a church member's family member.
Because of various other anxiety-producing circumstances, I know that I am not operating at 100% lately. So I've noticed that I've told more people about this women's rudeness than I might ordinarily tell, presumably because it feels good to have people affirm that she is being really rude. Mostly, the people I've told have cooperated with my neediness.
But then there's this other woman. She is one of the ones helping out with the sick church member. Actually, she's been the main liaison, since the rude family member won't communicate with me. And at some point in this saga, I noticed that she wasn't really as sympathetic to my plight as others. I believe her words were something like, "I suppose this is one of those things that pastors have to deal with," stated just as matter-of-factly as you please.
It was kind of a good reminder, if a bit abrupt. I had been pretty proud of myself for how I was handing this not-nice woman, and I'd very much been enjoying the accolades from the people I'd told about her who said they would have been much less polite. But here was this woman, reminding me that loving her with the love of Jesus, despite her behavior, is my job. So I should just do my job.
And she's right. At first, I was a little hurt that she wasn't more sympathetic. But you know, I got plenty of sympathy. Being told to buck up and deal was also pretty helpful, once I got over my surprise.
Because of various other anxiety-producing circumstances, I know that I am not operating at 100% lately. So I've noticed that I've told more people about this women's rudeness than I might ordinarily tell, presumably because it feels good to have people affirm that she is being really rude. Mostly, the people I've told have cooperated with my neediness.
But then there's this other woman. She is one of the ones helping out with the sick church member. Actually, she's been the main liaison, since the rude family member won't communicate with me. And at some point in this saga, I noticed that she wasn't really as sympathetic to my plight as others. I believe her words were something like, "I suppose this is one of those things that pastors have to deal with," stated just as matter-of-factly as you please.
It was kind of a good reminder, if a bit abrupt. I had been pretty proud of myself for how I was handing this not-nice woman, and I'd very much been enjoying the accolades from the people I'd told about her who said they would have been much less polite. But here was this woman, reminding me that loving her with the love of Jesus, despite her behavior, is my job. So I should just do my job.
And she's right. At first, I was a little hurt that she wasn't more sympathetic. But you know, I got plenty of sympathy. Being told to buck up and deal was also pretty helpful, once I got over my surprise.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
You Get What You Pay For, Or At Least, You Don't Get What You Don't Pay For
A little over a month ago, a friend on facebook noted that her "dawn simulator" was "up and running." "So far, so good," she added.
I was intrigued. I don't like getting out of bed. Especially in the dark. Now, I realize I don't have a lot of room to complain, since many, many people have to get up in much darker dark much more often than I.
But when I do, and especially after the impending shift back to "standard" time, I really, really don't like it and have lots of trouble dragging myself out of bed.
So I clicked on the link to see what sort of contraption my friend had gotten that was going to make this easier.
Here is what she got.
As you will notice, this machine, which you hook up to a lamp so that it can bring the lamp up to full brightness ever so gradually thus simulating dawn, costs $156.95. I quickly lost heart. We don't have that kind of money, at least not for something as optional as a "dawn simulator."
But I couldn't stop thinking about it. I wanted one. I coveted hers.
So last week, I went to the hardware store and bought a timer like the ones I have the living room and den lamps on. It cost about $5. It's so non-high tech I can't even show you a link.
I've hooked it up to my bedside lamp. The outlet, thankfully, is within reaching distance of the bed, since I have to use the manual switch on the timer to turn the lamp on and off at night. I can adjust rather easily what time it comes on in the morning and for how long.
The first night I set it up, I switched out the 100 watt bulb for a 60. The next morning, it was clear even that was too much so I went with a 40 watt bulb. That seems fine.
Now, obviously, this isn't really a "dawn simulator". It doesn't come on gradually; it comes on all of a sudden. (Unless it doesn't, like happened Sunday morning when I turned it off the wrong way the night before.) I am clearly going to have to train myself to sleep facing away from the lamp, as it's a bit much to have it come on right in your face even if you're asleep.
So I'm not getting all the physiological benefits of the gradual increase in light. That's what the big bucks are for. But it's still making it way easier to wake up. And it only cost $5. I'm satisfied. We'll see if it helps when the time changes.
I was intrigued. I don't like getting out of bed. Especially in the dark. Now, I realize I don't have a lot of room to complain, since many, many people have to get up in much darker dark much more often than I.
But when I do, and especially after the impending shift back to "standard" time, I really, really don't like it and have lots of trouble dragging myself out of bed.
So I clicked on the link to see what sort of contraption my friend had gotten that was going to make this easier.
Here is what she got.
As you will notice, this machine, which you hook up to a lamp so that it can bring the lamp up to full brightness ever so gradually thus simulating dawn, costs $156.95. I quickly lost heart. We don't have that kind of money, at least not for something as optional as a "dawn simulator."
But I couldn't stop thinking about it. I wanted one. I coveted hers.
So last week, I went to the hardware store and bought a timer like the ones I have the living room and den lamps on. It cost about $5. It's so non-high tech I can't even show you a link.
I've hooked it up to my bedside lamp. The outlet, thankfully, is within reaching distance of the bed, since I have to use the manual switch on the timer to turn the lamp on and off at night. I can adjust rather easily what time it comes on in the morning and for how long.
The first night I set it up, I switched out the 100 watt bulb for a 60. The next morning, it was clear even that was too much so I went with a 40 watt bulb. That seems fine.
Now, obviously, this isn't really a "dawn simulator". It doesn't come on gradually; it comes on all of a sudden. (Unless it doesn't, like happened Sunday morning when I turned it off the wrong way the night before.) I am clearly going to have to train myself to sleep facing away from the lamp, as it's a bit much to have it come on right in your face even if you're asleep.
So I'm not getting all the physiological benefits of the gradual increase in light. That's what the big bucks are for. But it's still making it way easier to wake up. And it only cost $5. I'm satisfied. We'll see if it helps when the time changes.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
The Appropriate Place for Soap Boxes
Today being Sunday, you can easily guess what I was going to be doing. That's right -- reading "Parade" magazine!
I am a bizarrely big fan of "Parade" magazine. Numerous people I know have made very disdainful comments about it, to which I respond that they cover certain topics succinctly that a part of their audience will never know anything about unless they read it in "Parade".
Plus, there are comics. And that creepy smart woman.
And celebrity gossip. Which brings me to my point. (Did you know I had one?)
Today, the last question in "Walter Scott's Personality Parade" concerned a supposed celebrity named Jonathan Taylor Thomas. I am merely taking their word that this is a famous person, because I'd never heard of him. (This is, however, frequently the case with the "celebrities" covered in this particular column.)
The inquiry included three questions. What was he up to? Does he still act? And... Is he gay?
The first two got answered. And then, in what I find a baffling, if well intentioned, lack of awareness of self-identity, the answer concluded, "As for his sexuality -- or, for that matter, that of any other actor or actress -- Walter Scott [I've never seen him name himself like that!] would like to ask, now and for the record: Whose business is it? And what does it matter?"
Hmmm... Clearly, Walter Scott is trying to make a point. And it's a point I agree with, but, um, did he forget that he writes a celebrity gossip column?!? He answers people's questions about celebrity relationships all the time! I'm almost positive that there have even been answers about whether so-and-so was in relationships with men or women before. Or whether a certain dead celebrity ever came out of the closet.
So if the writer had asked if JTT dated men, would WS have answered? What if the person who was writing in had a crush on JTT? That might make it "matter" to "Gallagher (no first name given)" of Madison, Wis., in the sense anything matters in a gossip column.
Whatever one's beliefs, if you're a gossip columnist, it is not in your best interest to ever ask "Whose business is it? And what does it matter?"
I am a bizarrely big fan of "Parade" magazine. Numerous people I know have made very disdainful comments about it, to which I respond that they cover certain topics succinctly that a part of their audience will never know anything about unless they read it in "Parade".
Plus, there are comics. And that creepy smart woman.
And celebrity gossip. Which brings me to my point. (Did you know I had one?)
Today, the last question in "Walter Scott's Personality Parade" concerned a supposed celebrity named Jonathan Taylor Thomas. I am merely taking their word that this is a famous person, because I'd never heard of him. (This is, however, frequently the case with the "celebrities" covered in this particular column.)
The inquiry included three questions. What was he up to? Does he still act? And... Is he gay?
The first two got answered. And then, in what I find a baffling, if well intentioned, lack of awareness of self-identity, the answer concluded, "As for his sexuality -- or, for that matter, that of any other actor or actress -- Walter Scott [I've never seen him name himself like that!] would like to ask, now and for the record: Whose business is it? And what does it matter?"
Hmmm... Clearly, Walter Scott is trying to make a point. And it's a point I agree with, but, um, did he forget that he writes a celebrity gossip column?!? He answers people's questions about celebrity relationships all the time! I'm almost positive that there have even been answers about whether so-and-so was in relationships with men or women before. Or whether a certain dead celebrity ever came out of the closet.
So if the writer had asked if JTT dated men, would WS have answered? What if the person who was writing in had a crush on JTT? That might make it "matter" to "Gallagher (no first name given)" of Madison, Wis., in the sense anything matters in a gossip column.
Whatever one's beliefs, if you're a gossip columnist, it is not in your best interest to ever ask "Whose business is it? And what does it matter?"
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Grace
This fills my heart with warmth. Apparently, some of the trains in New York deliberately leave a minute later so that late people can get on board. They don't tell anyone.
Is it a lesson for life? A minute may not seem like enough time to make a difference, but it clearly does for lots of people. And it doesn't end up affecting when the train arrives. Maybe we could all afford to give that extra minute to those who need it, whatever that may mean in our individual contexts. And if we can do it without claiming credit, even better.
Maybe we could start a Secret Minute Society to spread grace around the world...
Is it a lesson for life? A minute may not seem like enough time to make a difference, but it clearly does for lots of people. And it doesn't end up affecting when the train arrives. Maybe we could all afford to give that extra minute to those who need it, whatever that may mean in our individual contexts. And if we can do it without claiming credit, even better.
Maybe we could start a Secret Minute Society to spread grace around the world...
Friday, October 16, 2009
One Other Thing
It's been a week since President Obama was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize and a lot has been said about it.
I will admit that my first reaction was that it was pre-mature. It seemed to me like it would put a lot of pressure on him and make his opponents even more crazy, etc., etc.
I have read some things that convinced me that there are plenty of legitimate reasons why he deserves it. Though I'm very disturbed by the possibility that he will not get us out of Afghanistan as soon as possible.
But about the prize, I've come to another conclusion. One of the bizarre themes of the commentary focused on the political ramifications. Would it help Obama or hurt him with the home crowd?
What was fun was to discover that the Nobel people, and in fact, a large portion of the world living vicariously through them, took the opportunity to express themselves without worrying how America might feel about it. Political fall-out be damned, they seemed to say, we like this guy and need to show how much safer we feel with him in the White House.
Once in a while, I think it's good for this country to realize that the rest of the world actually has their own understanding and position in the world, and they don't have to always take us into account if they don't feel like it.
We know that the "center" in this country has been sliding right since the late 70s. I wonder if the reality that the rest of the world is radically to the left of us could help us get the middle back where it belongs. In some ways, this Nobel Prize was a little reality check. Thanks for that.
I will admit that my first reaction was that it was pre-mature. It seemed to me like it would put a lot of pressure on him and make his opponents even more crazy, etc., etc.
I have read some things that convinced me that there are plenty of legitimate reasons why he deserves it. Though I'm very disturbed by the possibility that he will not get us out of Afghanistan as soon as possible.
But about the prize, I've come to another conclusion. One of the bizarre themes of the commentary focused on the political ramifications. Would it help Obama or hurt him with the home crowd?
What was fun was to discover that the Nobel people, and in fact, a large portion of the world living vicariously through them, took the opportunity to express themselves without worrying how America might feel about it. Political fall-out be damned, they seemed to say, we like this guy and need to show how much safer we feel with him in the White House.
Once in a while, I think it's good for this country to realize that the rest of the world actually has their own understanding and position in the world, and they don't have to always take us into account if they don't feel like it.
We know that the "center" in this country has been sliding right since the late 70s. I wonder if the reality that the rest of the world is radically to the left of us could help us get the middle back where it belongs. In some ways, this Nobel Prize was a little reality check. Thanks for that.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Because You Asked
In a recent post, I mentioned Lynda Barry in the title without any explanation. It saddens me that she is not more of a household name, but I understand that we are each aware of our own personal set of obscure things.
So for those of you who were not previously aware of Lynda Barry, allow me to introduce you. She is a cartoonist, most famous for her weekly strip, "Ernie Pook Comeek". She has an incredible talent for channeling children in a tone that is honest, respectful and hilarious. She is one of my favorites.
You can read her bio at wikipedia here.
You can read the weekly "Ernie Pook Comeek" here at "Marlys' Magazine" (Marlys being one of the characters in it). If you read enough of them, I hope you will come to understand why I said I was channeling her when I wrote "How to Cook". It was not a comment on her cooking skills.
ENJOY!
So for those of you who were not previously aware of Lynda Barry, allow me to introduce you. She is a cartoonist, most famous for her weekly strip, "Ernie Pook Comeek". She has an incredible talent for channeling children in a tone that is honest, respectful and hilarious. She is one of my favorites.
You can read her bio at wikipedia here.
You can read the weekly "Ernie Pook Comeek" here at "Marlys' Magazine" (Marlys being one of the characters in it). If you read enough of them, I hope you will come to understand why I said I was channeling her when I wrote "How to Cook". It was not a comment on her cooking skills.
ENJOY!
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Shopping Dilemma
Okay, so I'm definitely not a person who plans way ahead for Christmas, I promise. But I got a catalog in the mail today. (Don't get me wrong; I'm not really a big catalog person either, except for certain things.) It was from one of my favorite organizations, the Syracuse Cultural Workers.
I immediately started making plans to do all my Christmas shopping from their lovely catalog full of cool, lefty t-shirts and enlightening children's books and educational calendars. And then I heard the voice of our little mayor in my ear saying, "When you shop online, all that money goes out of our community."
I would like to shop locally, really I would. But I don't like to buy stuff just to buy stuff, and I would prefer to buy things that are sustainably and justly produced. The problem is that you can't find a lot of that sort of thing around here, that is, things with meaning that actually support the people who make them and don't destroy the earth.
So I'm caught. Do I buy things from a catalog out of New York that fit my values? Or do I shop local? Here's what will make the difference: I hate going shopping. If I can do it over the phone, that's probably what's going to happen. Sorry, Mr. Mayor. And yes, family, you can now probably figure out what you're getting for Christmas!
I immediately started making plans to do all my Christmas shopping from their lovely catalog full of cool, lefty t-shirts and enlightening children's books and educational calendars. And then I heard the voice of our little mayor in my ear saying, "When you shop online, all that money goes out of our community."
I would like to shop locally, really I would. But I don't like to buy stuff just to buy stuff, and I would prefer to buy things that are sustainably and justly produced. The problem is that you can't find a lot of that sort of thing around here, that is, things with meaning that actually support the people who make them and don't destroy the earth.
So I'm caught. Do I buy things from a catalog out of New York that fit my values? Or do I shop local? Here's what will make the difference: I hate going shopping. If I can do it over the phone, that's probably what's going to happen. Sorry, Mr. Mayor. And yes, family, you can now probably figure out what you're getting for Christmas!
Sweet Spot
I love fall and spring precisely because of the moment we have now reached. As I was changing out of my work clothes just now, I realized that even though today I wore a sleeveless shirt and never needed the light cardigan I took in case I got cold, tomorrow I could probably wear long sleeves and be just as comfortable.
I love it when the weather is so perfect that you can be comfortable in whatever you're wearing. I think that's what heaven is like. You can be comfortable whatever you're wearing. And I'm planning to wear wings.
I love it when the weather is so perfect that you can be comfortable in whatever you're wearing. I think that's what heaven is like. You can be comfortable whatever you're wearing. And I'm planning to wear wings.
More on Dog Fight Videos
Evidently, the Supreme Court Justices don't agree with me much.
I would normally consider myself a strong advocate of free speech. But it's also true that I have a strong authoritarian streak that I mostly try to keep under wraps. What I don't understand is when and how the line between speech and behavior got so fuzzy. How does promoting a video of dog-fighting qualify as speech in the first place? That confuses me.
They had a pretty weird conversation about the whole thing, including a hypothetical pay-per-view "human sacrifice channel." Doesn't that seem like a sign that something's wrong?
I would normally consider myself a strong advocate of free speech. But it's also true that I have a strong authoritarian streak that I mostly try to keep under wraps. What I don't understand is when and how the line between speech and behavior got so fuzzy. How does promoting a video of dog-fighting qualify as speech in the first place? That confuses me.
They had a pretty weird conversation about the whole thing, including a hypothetical pay-per-view "human sacrifice channel." Doesn't that seem like a sign that something's wrong?
Happiness is a Warm Iron?
There has been a lot of chatter lately about happiness and more obnoxiously about how supposedly women are less happy now that we're more liberated. Katha Pollit has now weighed in to point out that "Are you happy?" is a stupid question, especially if you think you're going to get a useful (i.e. quantifiable) answer.
She also asks, "But why let quibbles stand in the way of a chance to attack feminism?" and points out the complexities of statistical analysis.
I love it when Katha tells it like it is. It makes me happy.
She also asks, "But why let quibbles stand in the way of a chance to attack feminism?" and points out the complexities of statistical analysis.
I love it when Katha tells it like it is. It makes me happy.
Monday, October 5, 2009
NYT on the SCOTUS
The New York Times editorial board sums up some of the cases that will be considered in the upcoming session of the Supreme Court.
Their conclusion? "The law on many issues is likely to be, as it has been for several years now, what Justice Kennedy says it is."
It is not weird that on a court with 9 people, one person pretty much is making the decisions? I wouldn't want that job. (Or maybe I would. But I wouldn't ever be in that position because I wouldn't be in the middle on most things.) But it does seem like a symptom of the extreme polarization of this political moment in history. Or maybe it's a good thing, a reflection of the balance that results from back and forth between parties and the resulting presidents that have gotten to appoint justices.
I should have mentioned that the NYT doesn't just sum them up; they share their opinions about what should happen. (They are an editorial board, after all.)
Mostly, I think they point in the direction I would prefer as well.
But I'm not sure I understand how someone's "right" to sell videos of illegal dog fights is a "free speech" issue. First of all, if you're selling something, how does that qualify as free? Okay, that's kind of an insincere, intentional misconstrual, but still. There are some laws that make it illegal to profit off illegal things. Take child porn, for instance. In this case, the guy selling them didn't have anything to do with the dog fights himself. But I'm still not convinced this deserves a "free speech" defense. If he didn't make the videos, how do they qualify as self-expression? Sounds to me like he's just selling something we've mostly decided should be illegal. And that doesn't sound like something that needs to be defended.
Their conclusion? "The law on many issues is likely to be, as it has been for several years now, what Justice Kennedy says it is."
It is not weird that on a court with 9 people, one person pretty much is making the decisions? I wouldn't want that job. (Or maybe I would. But I wouldn't ever be in that position because I wouldn't be in the middle on most things.) But it does seem like a symptom of the extreme polarization of this political moment in history. Or maybe it's a good thing, a reflection of the balance that results from back and forth between parties and the resulting presidents that have gotten to appoint justices.
I should have mentioned that the NYT doesn't just sum them up; they share their opinions about what should happen. (They are an editorial board, after all.)
Mostly, I think they point in the direction I would prefer as well.
But I'm not sure I understand how someone's "right" to sell videos of illegal dog fights is a "free speech" issue. First of all, if you're selling something, how does that qualify as free? Okay, that's kind of an insincere, intentional misconstrual, but still. There are some laws that make it illegal to profit off illegal things. Take child porn, for instance. In this case, the guy selling them didn't have anything to do with the dog fights himself. But I'm still not convinced this deserves a "free speech" defense. If he didn't make the videos, how do they qualify as self-expression? Sounds to me like he's just selling something we've mostly decided should be illegal. And that doesn't sound like something that needs to be defended.
Boycott Hyatt
Have you ever been asked to train someone to do your job, only to find out it's because you're getting fired so they can pay that new person to do the same work for less?
Well, that's what happened to the housekeepers at three Hyatt hotels in Boston. You can read a short synopsis and get a link to more here.
In the meantime, not that you were about to go on vacation but just in case, let's all boycott Hyatt. I don't know that I've ever stayed in one, but now I know I won't.
If all the church gatherings and meetings that use hotels were to announce that they will not stay in Hyatts, I wonder if they would notice? That's some amount of business going elsewhere. Seems to me like it's worth trying.
Well, that's what happened to the housekeepers at three Hyatt hotels in Boston. You can read a short synopsis and get a link to more here.
In the meantime, not that you were about to go on vacation but just in case, let's all boycott Hyatt. I don't know that I've ever stayed in one, but now I know I won't.
If all the church gatherings and meetings that use hotels were to announce that they will not stay in Hyatts, I wonder if they would notice? That's some amount of business going elsewhere. Seems to me like it's worth trying.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
How To Cook (channeling Lynda Barry)
It is not that hard to cook. Here is a simple, yet delicious recipe that can save your sanity when you're too hungry to cook something else.
I call it...
FANCY RAMEN!
Directions:
1. Make ramen.*
2. Wash and cut up one green onion.
3. Add green onion to ramen.
4. ENJOY!
*Follow directions on package, except I never measure the water and then drain most of it off because noodles are way better than broth.
I call it...
FANCY RAMEN!
Directions:
1. Make ramen.*
2. Wash and cut up one green onion.
3. Add green onion to ramen.
4. ENJOY!
*Follow directions on package, except I never measure the water and then drain most of it off because noodles are way better than broth.
Friday, October 2, 2009
For My Facebook Friends
Because, in theory, this blog is sort of anonymous, I don't always like to draw much attention to it on facebook. (Since I'm not anonymous on facebook.) But I know there are periods of time when I don't blog and you might get tired of checking.
It occurred to me the other day that I could develop a code for letting you know when there a new post, at least after a dry spell. What if I posted, as my status update, "made dessert" to let you know that there's a new post?
Would that be helpful? Or would I just be speaking code to myself?
It occurred to me the other day that I could develop a code for letting you know when there a new post, at least after a dry spell. What if I posted, as my status update, "made dessert" to let you know that there's a new post?
Would that be helpful? Or would I just be speaking code to myself?
And Some Positivity to Counter That
Things I love (not in order of importance!):
1. Cheerios (it's time for breakfast!)
2. Sunshine
3. My hammock
4. My cat
5. My husband
6. Moving neon signs
7. The tropical/desert plant-covered median on a particular block in my town
8. Words
9. Reading
10. God
11. Singing
12. Dancing
13. Playing with color
14. Hugs
15. People who step up and help out with enthusiasm
16. Massages
17. My family and what it stands for
18. The gingko tree in my backyard and the squirrels who play and sleep there
1. Cheerios (it's time for breakfast!)
2. Sunshine
3. My hammock
4. My cat
5. My husband
6. Moving neon signs
7. The tropical/desert plant-covered median on a particular block in my town
8. Words
9. Reading
10. God
11. Singing
12. Dancing
13. Playing with color
14. Hugs
15. People who step up and help out with enthusiasm
16. Massages
17. My family and what it stands for
18. The gingko tree in my backyard and the squirrels who play and sleep there
Pet Peeves
I try not to be too whiny on here, but indulge me; it's raining again.
1. People who have strong opinions that might affect how you do things, who don't share said opinions with you, ever. Until you find out from someone else and then wonder if you react or not, given that you haven't "really" been told.
2. People who don't use their turn signals.
3. People who don't pay attention to announcements and directions and other information put into their hands and then complain about not knowing what's going on.
4. The mis-use of apostrophes.
5. A corollary to #4: The contraction form of "you all" being mis-spelled "ya'll" instead of correctly shortened to "y'all". In a contraction, the apostrophe goes where the letters are missing, in this case, the "ou" of "you".
6. The common, ridiculous assumption that people can be expected to be consistent. We're not. Let's try to get over that now.
Okay, I'm done. But hey, it's no fun to complain alone. What are your pet peeves?
1. People who have strong opinions that might affect how you do things, who don't share said opinions with you, ever. Until you find out from someone else and then wonder if you react or not, given that you haven't "really" been told.
2. People who don't use their turn signals.
3. People who don't pay attention to announcements and directions and other information put into their hands and then complain about not knowing what's going on.
4. The mis-use of apostrophes.
5. A corollary to #4: The contraction form of "you all" being mis-spelled "ya'll" instead of correctly shortened to "y'all". In a contraction, the apostrophe goes where the letters are missing, in this case, the "ou" of "you".
6. The common, ridiculous assumption that people can be expected to be consistent. We're not. Let's try to get over that now.
Okay, I'm done. But hey, it's no fun to complain alone. What are your pet peeves?
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