Fortunately, I have a lot of hair, because I've been pulling it out in clumps as I ponder the announced candidacy of Michele Bachmann and the potential candidacy of Sarah Palin for the highest office in the land. PRESIDENT Bachmann? PRESIDENT Palin? The whole idea makes Governor Ventura and Governor Schwarzenegger seem almost sane and normal.
To me, one's view of Bachmann and Palin constitutes a reliable intelligence test: If you think these two babes are smart and capable, you're an idiot. Line up all their strange quotations and bizarre notions about the world and you have a set of beliefs that is ignorant, simplistic, narrow-minded, and just plain scary. Their views on religion and homosexuality alone are enough to disqualify them from any executive position. They are, in the end, demagogues in skirts.
But, strangely enough, it is the "skirt" part that seems to work for them. Maybe our standards and expectations in politics are not as high in this regard, but I always have to grudgingly admit that Bachmann and Palin are attractive. Yes, their ideas can diminish that attractiveness a bit, but as a guy, I can say that they are easy on the eyes. Since the first telegenic Presidency--John F. Kennedy's--we have become increasingly susceptible to mere images in politics. And images now really matter. At more than 300 pounds, William Howard Taft could not be elected President in 2012. And at considerably less than 300 pounds, Dennis Kucinich looks sufficiently odd and dorky that he doesn't have a chance as long as there are electronic screens.
The whole thing doesn't say much for us these days. We're not too far from choosing the high school homecoming queen. Michele and Sarah are like a 17-year-old Buffy, or Muffin, or Midge: cute, perky, energetic, and vacuous--with a lot of school spirit. Don't you just love your freedom? Go USA!
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Mourning the loss of a friend
Even we introverts like to have a few friends, and it appears that I have lost one.
Someone I've known for more than 30 years essentially "broke up with me" a few days ago, and I'm still sad and reflective about it. (The ultimate proof of this demise: my Facebook friend list appears to be one name shorter.) And, if I'm honest about it, I'm maybe a little angry, too.
Near as I can tell, the issue, in his mind, was that at a key point in his life, several years ago, I was too cold and judgmental toward him, and that in recent years, I was way more into me than I was into him--that is, I loved to call and talk about myself but didn't show enough interest in the joys and sorrows of his life. In the end, I have to say, point well taken. For the most part.
There are some mitigating or complicating factors. An odd feature to this relationship is that in the last 20 years, I've probably made at least 500 personal calls to him, while he's possibly made one or two such calls to me. Really. After a while, you begin to wonder who's really interested in whom. And yes, I liked to share personal stories--you know, good, bad, funny, or strange stuff that was going on in my life. But the idea that I had no interest in his life whatsoever is ridiculous on its face. Maybe I didn't ask enough questions, or the right questions, but I did ask them, more often than not. Also, I always just assumed that part of friendship is simply reciprocal storytelling--I tell you my stories and you tell me yours. If he had wanted to read me the yellow pages, I would have listened. And if my calls to him seemed like egotistical babbling, all it would have taken is a few calls FROM him with the desire to tell me a few more of HIS stories. He could have asserted who he is rather than spending what turns out to be several YEARS in quiet passive-aggressive resentment. Well, at least I know why my last two lunch invitations were met with such indifference.
The other thing that is painfully clear to me is that when you have issues, then you have a responsibility to raise them--and for me to learn in 2011 that he had an axe to grind from maybe 2004 or 2005 (can't remember the year--it's been so long that this is an estimate) is at best unfortunate and at worst unkind. Jeez, we could've talked about this stuff; we really could.
And so I am left to mourn the loss of this friend--someone who has meant a lot to me over the years. I wish him the best and hope that maybe someday all of this will change.
Someone I've known for more than 30 years essentially "broke up with me" a few days ago, and I'm still sad and reflective about it. (The ultimate proof of this demise: my Facebook friend list appears to be one name shorter.) And, if I'm honest about it, I'm maybe a little angry, too.
Near as I can tell, the issue, in his mind, was that at a key point in his life, several years ago, I was too cold and judgmental toward him, and that in recent years, I was way more into me than I was into him--that is, I loved to call and talk about myself but didn't show enough interest in the joys and sorrows of his life. In the end, I have to say, point well taken. For the most part.
There are some mitigating or complicating factors. An odd feature to this relationship is that in the last 20 years, I've probably made at least 500 personal calls to him, while he's possibly made one or two such calls to me. Really. After a while, you begin to wonder who's really interested in whom. And yes, I liked to share personal stories--you know, good, bad, funny, or strange stuff that was going on in my life. But the idea that I had no interest in his life whatsoever is ridiculous on its face. Maybe I didn't ask enough questions, or the right questions, but I did ask them, more often than not. Also, I always just assumed that part of friendship is simply reciprocal storytelling--I tell you my stories and you tell me yours. If he had wanted to read me the yellow pages, I would have listened. And if my calls to him seemed like egotistical babbling, all it would have taken is a few calls FROM him with the desire to tell me a few more of HIS stories. He could have asserted who he is rather than spending what turns out to be several YEARS in quiet passive-aggressive resentment. Well, at least I know why my last two lunch invitations were met with such indifference.
The other thing that is painfully clear to me is that when you have issues, then you have a responsibility to raise them--and for me to learn in 2011 that he had an axe to grind from maybe 2004 or 2005 (can't remember the year--it's been so long that this is an estimate) is at best unfortunate and at worst unkind. Jeez, we could've talked about this stuff; we really could.
And so I am left to mourn the loss of this friend--someone who has meant a lot to me over the years. I wish him the best and hope that maybe someday all of this will change.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
4th of July: overrated jingoism
In the community where I live, the 4th of July is probably THE biggest holiday of the year. The whole town goes a little nuts, with a morning parade; an evening street dance; a little carnival area with motorized rides, hot dogs, and cotton candy; and, of course, a massive fireworks display. What's not to like? Well, leave it to The Introvert to explain why the 4th is by no means his favorite holiday:
• It's a boozefest. In this suburb, the main form of personal recreation on "Independence Day" is continuous consumption of alcohol, for teens and adults alike. That's disgusting.
• It's crowded and noisy. People fight for spots to watch the parade--they put down rows of folding chairs at 7 am to claim their spot. The park with the fireworks is prone to gridlock. And there are all these people to walk and drive around and through. And, sorry to say, after 30 or 40 years, fireworks do lose some of their charm. I've seen fireworks in so many places that I have a bit of a "been there, done that" mindset. I'm almost out of "oohs" and "ahhs."
• It's hot and buggy. You need to have both sunscreen and mosquito repellent. And various types of smoke waft through the air from dawn to midnight.
• The various picnics going on in the neighbors' back yards aren't bad in concept, but the food is normally not much to celebrate. We vegetarians don't eat a lot of brats, and store-bought coleslaw and potato salad have some pretty cloying flavors.
• Worst of all, it's jingoistic. The 4th of July is an excuse for a lot of drunken chest-pounding by people wearing red, white, and blue Old Navy tank tops. Somehow this is regarded as "patriotic." To me it is the shallowest form of patriotism, and not to be encouraged. Our national pride should be quieter and more sophisticated. The "rockets' red glare" is nothing to glorify; war is at best a necessary evil. And the worst irony of all: if you were to ask U.S. citizens what the 4th of July commemorates, a huge percentage wouldn't have a clue. (If you doubt that claim, check: http://www.godlikeproductions.com/forum1/message1548908/pg1)
But hey, pass me a brewskie!
• It's a boozefest. In this suburb, the main form of personal recreation on "Independence Day" is continuous consumption of alcohol, for teens and adults alike. That's disgusting.
• It's crowded and noisy. People fight for spots to watch the parade--they put down rows of folding chairs at 7 am to claim their spot. The park with the fireworks is prone to gridlock. And there are all these people to walk and drive around and through. And, sorry to say, after 30 or 40 years, fireworks do lose some of their charm. I've seen fireworks in so many places that I have a bit of a "been there, done that" mindset. I'm almost out of "oohs" and "ahhs."
• It's hot and buggy. You need to have both sunscreen and mosquito repellent. And various types of smoke waft through the air from dawn to midnight.
• The various picnics going on in the neighbors' back yards aren't bad in concept, but the food is normally not much to celebrate. We vegetarians don't eat a lot of brats, and store-bought coleslaw and potato salad have some pretty cloying flavors.
• Worst of all, it's jingoistic. The 4th of July is an excuse for a lot of drunken chest-pounding by people wearing red, white, and blue Old Navy tank tops. Somehow this is regarded as "patriotic." To me it is the shallowest form of patriotism, and not to be encouraged. Our national pride should be quieter and more sophisticated. The "rockets' red glare" is nothing to glorify; war is at best a necessary evil. And the worst irony of all: if you were to ask U.S. citizens what the 4th of July commemorates, a huge percentage wouldn't have a clue. (If you doubt that claim, check: http://www.godlikeproductions.com/forum1/message1548908/pg1)
But hey, pass me a brewskie!
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Religion: a license to say or believe anything
Let's face it--contentiousintrovert is not exactly google or yahoo; it's not even the Huffington Post. (Heck--it's not even the Soybean Farmers Weekly.) But if I happen to write about religion, someone often responds. And the responders are often strangers from out-of-state. Lord knows how they find this little teeny niche in cyberspace. But, it's motivating to get a response. So here I go again.
In a general sense, perhaps my biggest complaint about religious discourse in the world is that religion is regarded as a "personal" issue, which in this case means: a person can say just about anything they want about religion, and since religion is a personal issue, no one has any right to criticize. In short, talking about religion is often a free pass to say anything, no matter how stupid, ignorant, or nonsensical it happens to be, and very few people will be compelled to call you out on it. It's just not polite to do so.
Do I believe that there are actually 100 gods, not just one? That's OK, because it's religion we're talking about. Do I believe that God can read my mind right now? You can't make fun of that, because it's religion. Do I think that God has a personal career plan for me? It may be silly, but I can believe that and nobody will blink an eye. Do I think that God sits on a velvet throne with a book listing all of those who are "saved"? It's OK, because it's religion, you know--personal, and not capable of being verified. (A woman I took to prom in high school believes that there is such a book, by the way, and her name is in it, just so you know.)
Such a "hands-off" mindset enables all sorts of people--many of whom I see on cable from time to time--to say the most outrageous things, and nobody is up in arms about it. The latest kook: this 89-year-old minister who predicated The Rapture on May 21. (Oops! Now, we discover, it's actually going to be October 21.) Why does the press even give him the time of day? He's a bleeping idiot, plain and simple.
Until religious claim-makers are held to the same standards as the rest of us--providing things like evidence and coherent reasoning--I see no reason to even listen. And if we do listen, and they say things that are total rubbish, we need to get in their face and tell them so. Otherwise, people will continue to say things that are utterly ridiculous.
But I will confess to some hypocrisy here. I've sat through my share of church services, and I've never had the nerve to stand up and say, "That's baloney!" I'm not one to make such waves. But maybe some of you are courageous enough to tell a few religious emperors that they are not wearing any clothes.
In a general sense, perhaps my biggest complaint about religious discourse in the world is that religion is regarded as a "personal" issue, which in this case means: a person can say just about anything they want about religion, and since religion is a personal issue, no one has any right to criticize. In short, talking about religion is often a free pass to say anything, no matter how stupid, ignorant, or nonsensical it happens to be, and very few people will be compelled to call you out on it. It's just not polite to do so.
Do I believe that there are actually 100 gods, not just one? That's OK, because it's religion we're talking about. Do I believe that God can read my mind right now? You can't make fun of that, because it's religion. Do I think that God has a personal career plan for me? It may be silly, but I can believe that and nobody will blink an eye. Do I think that God sits on a velvet throne with a book listing all of those who are "saved"? It's OK, because it's religion, you know--personal, and not capable of being verified. (A woman I took to prom in high school believes that there is such a book, by the way, and her name is in it, just so you know.)
Such a "hands-off" mindset enables all sorts of people--many of whom I see on cable from time to time--to say the most outrageous things, and nobody is up in arms about it. The latest kook: this 89-year-old minister who predicated The Rapture on May 21. (Oops! Now, we discover, it's actually going to be October 21.) Why does the press even give him the time of day? He's a bleeping idiot, plain and simple.
Until religious claim-makers are held to the same standards as the rest of us--providing things like evidence and coherent reasoning--I see no reason to even listen. And if we do listen, and they say things that are total rubbish, we need to get in their face and tell them so. Otherwise, people will continue to say things that are utterly ridiculous.
But I will confess to some hypocrisy here. I've sat through my share of church services, and I've never had the nerve to stand up and say, "That's baloney!" I'm not one to make such waves. But maybe some of you are courageous enough to tell a few religious emperors that they are not wearing any clothes.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
108 billion people at the whim of the Lord?
This month's National Geographic poses a question I have often asked myself: how many humans have lived at some time or another on the planet Earth?
The answer, it turns out, going back to the dawn of human history, is somewhere in the vicinity of 108 billion. Of those 108 billion, something like 6 or 7 percent are living today. That means that billions of people are part of past generations, and those past generations go way back--centuries and millennia before Jesus Christ, including Plato, Aristotle, Cicero, Alexander the Great, etc. etc. So the question becomes, if the acceptance of Jesus as Lord and Savior is an indispensable pre-condition for the afterlife, whatever became of the ancients, who, quite bluntly, didn't know Jesus from a hole in the wall?
This may seem like an obvious question, but in my view, a rather important one. All of those billions of people who lived "Before the Common Era" were real human beings with thoughts and feelings and relationships and behaviors--but because they lived before the arrival of Jesus, what was their fate? Were they destined to go to hell? Given special dispensation and a free pass to heaven? Or did they simply "die" with nothing to show for it?
It seems to me that this question poses some very sticky problems for those who see God as infinitely wise and just--especially for those (possibly) poor souls who passed on just a day or two or a year or two before our Lord and Savior made his arrival. It is yet another reason why I struggle to make sense out of Christian dogma. There simply has to be a better way to explain and understand all this than to trot out the Bible and claim that it has all the answers. It flat-out just doesn't.
The answer, it turns out, going back to the dawn of human history, is somewhere in the vicinity of 108 billion. Of those 108 billion, something like 6 or 7 percent are living today. That means that billions of people are part of past generations, and those past generations go way back--centuries and millennia before Jesus Christ, including Plato, Aristotle, Cicero, Alexander the Great, etc. etc. So the question becomes, if the acceptance of Jesus as Lord and Savior is an indispensable pre-condition for the afterlife, whatever became of the ancients, who, quite bluntly, didn't know Jesus from a hole in the wall?
This may seem like an obvious question, but in my view, a rather important one. All of those billions of people who lived "Before the Common Era" were real human beings with thoughts and feelings and relationships and behaviors--but because they lived before the arrival of Jesus, what was their fate? Were they destined to go to hell? Given special dispensation and a free pass to heaven? Or did they simply "die" with nothing to show for it?
It seems to me that this question poses some very sticky problems for those who see God as infinitely wise and just--especially for those (possibly) poor souls who passed on just a day or two or a year or two before our Lord and Savior made his arrival. It is yet another reason why I struggle to make sense out of Christian dogma. There simply has to be a better way to explain and understand all this than to trot out the Bible and claim that it has all the answers. It flat-out just doesn't.
Monday, May 16, 2011
20,000 miles and counting
I have to own up to the fact that I like things to count. This, for example, is my 94th Contentious Introvert posting.
Yesterday, my counting compulsion was evident as I reached a new running milestone (pun intended): 20,000 recorded running miles. 20,000--I must confess to feeling very satisfied by that number. Obviously, it has involved hundreds and hundreds of runs over the years, with record-keeping going back to 1975.
Some of those years are pretty lean--1986, for example, when our son was born, I was teaching at 5 different schools and working on my dissertation: 58 total miles for that entire year! On the other hand, 1500 miles in 2007 means that I had to average over 4 miles per day, and I'm not sure I'll ever get back to that number. At any rate, suffice it to say that I've done my share of running--in the dark, in blazing sunshine, in 15-below weather, when it's 98 and humid, in a thunderstorm/hailstorm (I was laughing so hard I almost couldn't continue), up north (where I once encountered a timberwolf), in our local nature center (where I encounter many deer), on the California beach, in Malaysia, etc. etc. etc. And it has involved 77 different races (there's that counting again!), including 6 marathons, 6 25Ks, and 26 half-marathons.
I have to think that running has saved my life in many ways--it's my Jesus. This past Saturday was the 41st anniversary of my dad's death; he died at 58 in the middle of bypass surgery. Although I could still keel over and die tomorrow (or even today!), I've passed that number, and even more important, I've felt good doing it. Physically (and in many ways psychologically and spiritually), nothing makes me feel better than a good run. I'm happy to have had a little quantity (not the time to list all my friends and acquaintances who have already passed on), but even better has been the quality of my life, and running has made that possible. I am still haunted by the many years during which dad experienced chest pains; several of those later years were more miserable than I could have possibly realized at the time. Up until dad died, I pretty much figured that anyone close to you lived forever, or at least into their 70s or 80s.
Anyway, the next goal is quite obvious to anyone looking at that number of 20,000. Yes, 24,901--the circumference of the planet. I'm now out to (sort of literally) run around the world. Hope to be there in just a few years--lord willing, as they say. And to go back to the opening sentence here: why do I like to count things? Although it may seem cold and clinical, for me, doing so helps to make them count.
Yesterday, my counting compulsion was evident as I reached a new running milestone (pun intended): 20,000 recorded running miles. 20,000--I must confess to feeling very satisfied by that number. Obviously, it has involved hundreds and hundreds of runs over the years, with record-keeping going back to 1975.
Some of those years are pretty lean--1986, for example, when our son was born, I was teaching at 5 different schools and working on my dissertation: 58 total miles for that entire year! On the other hand, 1500 miles in 2007 means that I had to average over 4 miles per day, and I'm not sure I'll ever get back to that number. At any rate, suffice it to say that I've done my share of running--in the dark, in blazing sunshine, in 15-below weather, when it's 98 and humid, in a thunderstorm/hailstorm (I was laughing so hard I almost couldn't continue), up north (where I once encountered a timberwolf), in our local nature center (where I encounter many deer), on the California beach, in Malaysia, etc. etc. etc. And it has involved 77 different races (there's that counting again!), including 6 marathons, 6 25Ks, and 26 half-marathons.
I have to think that running has saved my life in many ways--it's my Jesus. This past Saturday was the 41st anniversary of my dad's death; he died at 58 in the middle of bypass surgery. Although I could still keel over and die tomorrow (or even today!), I've passed that number, and even more important, I've felt good doing it. Physically (and in many ways psychologically and spiritually), nothing makes me feel better than a good run. I'm happy to have had a little quantity (not the time to list all my friends and acquaintances who have already passed on), but even better has been the quality of my life, and running has made that possible. I am still haunted by the many years during which dad experienced chest pains; several of those later years were more miserable than I could have possibly realized at the time. Up until dad died, I pretty much figured that anyone close to you lived forever, or at least into their 70s or 80s.
Anyway, the next goal is quite obvious to anyone looking at that number of 20,000. Yes, 24,901--the circumference of the planet. I'm now out to (sort of literally) run around the world. Hope to be there in just a few years--lord willing, as they say. And to go back to the opening sentence here: why do I like to count things? Although it may seem cold and clinical, for me, doing so helps to make them count.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
God: way worse than Hitler?
The cover story in this week's Time features the question, "What if there's no hell?" Seems that minister Rob Bell, a rising star in parts of the Christian world, is proposing that there really may not be such a place--that is, a place where God, presumably, punishes those who do not believeth in Him. And to his credit, Pastor Bell has enough intellectual integrity to say what frankly anyone should believe: "When we get to what happens when we die, we don't have any video footage. So let's at least be honest that we are speculating, because we are."
That said, Bell's speculation is that a loving God would not and could not condone a place like Hell. And to that, I say, hell yes. The proposed existence of hell is untenable--if one believes that God is a loving being. Indeed, if God is perfectly comfortable with hell, then I'd go so far as to say that He's more nasty and vicious than Hitler, Stalin, and Pol Pot combined--and by a long shot. Why? Let me count the ways.
First, there's the massive scale involved. Even Hitler, at his "best," could only exterminate 6 million people. If God sends all non-believers to hell, that number would be easily in the BILLIONS. Entire nations--Japan, for example, or China, or more than half of Europe, certainly--would be decimated.
Second, there's the fact that the punishment involves suffering, not death or the termination of existence. At least Stalin only killed people and in the process, we hope, put them out of their misery. But the God which some worship gets his kicks out of making people continue to suffer, literally in lord-knows-what ways. You just don't "die again."
Third and finally--and probably most important--the jail term in hell appears to be ETERNITY. Do you have any idea of how long eternity is? It's now 2011--think BEYOND the year 200,556,994,228,001,669, because that's only the START of eternity. Anyone who would punish anybody for eternity is so patently un-loving that I hardly know how to discuss this matter with a "fire and brimstone" person.
Bottom line: no God is an "awesome" God who would willingly make billions of people suffer for eternity. I simply cannot and will not entertain that thoroughly ridiculous notion. And anyone who does (sorry, I can't resist this closing) can go to hell!
That said, Bell's speculation is that a loving God would not and could not condone a place like Hell. And to that, I say, hell yes. The proposed existence of hell is untenable--if one believes that God is a loving being. Indeed, if God is perfectly comfortable with hell, then I'd go so far as to say that He's more nasty and vicious than Hitler, Stalin, and Pol Pot combined--and by a long shot. Why? Let me count the ways.
First, there's the massive scale involved. Even Hitler, at his "best," could only exterminate 6 million people. If God sends all non-believers to hell, that number would be easily in the BILLIONS. Entire nations--Japan, for example, or China, or more than half of Europe, certainly--would be decimated.
Second, there's the fact that the punishment involves suffering, not death or the termination of existence. At least Stalin only killed people and in the process, we hope, put them out of their misery. But the God which some worship gets his kicks out of making people continue to suffer, literally in lord-knows-what ways. You just don't "die again."
Third and finally--and probably most important--the jail term in hell appears to be ETERNITY. Do you have any idea of how long eternity is? It's now 2011--think BEYOND the year 200,556,994,228,001,669, because that's only the START of eternity. Anyone who would punish anybody for eternity is so patently un-loving that I hardly know how to discuss this matter with a "fire and brimstone" person.
Bottom line: no God is an "awesome" God who would willingly make billions of people suffer for eternity. I simply cannot and will not entertain that thoroughly ridiculous notion. And anyone who does (sorry, I can't resist this closing) can go to hell!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)