Tim Tebow is probably the most famous current half-rate quarterback in the NFL. He's not famous for his prowess on the field. He ended the season with a 46.5% completion for 1,719 passing yards, and 12 touchdowns in 14 games. Denver finished with an 8-8 record. Compare that to another 8-8 record quarterback with a 78.2% completion for 3,474 passing yards, and 26 TD's. Mike Sanchez and the Jets didn't make the playoffs.
What's Tebow famous for? His religion and his devotion to passive proselytizing with his John 3:16 strips under his eyes and his prayerful kneeling after impressive plays. So why is he so bad for Christianity, as the title of this blog claims?
As Carter Turner, a religious studies professor, points out in a recent article, his actions are bringing the very nature of God into question. Tebow prays to God for a first-down, or a touchdown, or a victory. God rewards Tebow's devotion by granting his prayer. God intervenes in the lives of the devout and prayerful and worthy. But what happened against the Patriots? Did God decide that Tebow hadn't genuflected enough? Did God decide that Tom Brady, with his illegitimate son and his almost-illegitimate second son, was more worthy of the victory?
And what of people who pray ceaselessly every day that their child or parent or husband with cancer be healed? What of the farmers in Texas who prayed for rain last summer? Did God ignore their prayers because they weren't devout enough? Which is why Tebow is bad for Christianity.
For people observing this, it calls upon the nature of God. Some people will say that God had other plans and not to question the working of God. Then why pray? If God has plans that we are not privy to, that sounds a lot like predestination. God has preordained that something will happen so it does. Like Tebow's connection for a touchdown. Or the Holocaust. Or 9-11. See where this leads. Just what has God preordained? But if God answers prayer requests for touchdowns and football victories, why didn't God answer the prayers of the students at Virginia Tech praying for their lives?
In the very public nature of Tebow's religiosity, he leads people not to finding salvation through Christ but to questioning the existence and nature of God. Is God the Great Clockmaker of the Deists? Or is God the Intervener of the Evangelicals? Does God answer prayers? How does God decide whose prayers to answer?
And whose God answers prayers? The God of Tebow who lets two of his teams lose championship games? What about the God, Allah, of Muhammad Ali who allowed only five losses in his career?
People are wondering whether God is helping Tebow. They want to know for certain whether God answers prayers and intervenes in our daily lives. Because in today's world of economic recession, climate extremes, and the general limits and frailties of human existence, there ain't a whole lot certainty.
[The opinions expressed in this article are the sole views of the author and do not necessarily express the views of the blog audience. Should anyone feel moved to leave a comment, please keep your comments on topic and do not attack the author. And before leaving any comment, read about No True Scotsman before posting.]
Showing posts with label News. Show all posts
Showing posts with label News. Show all posts
2.1.12
The Only Thinking Girl in America
"Any customer can have a car painted any color that he wants as long as it is black." ~ Henry Ford.
If only it was that easy! Now a trip to the grocery store leaves me mentally exhausted. There is whole milk, 2%, 1%, skim, organic, grass-fed, soy, almond, goat, unpasteurized. The cereal aisle alone takes twenty minutes alone sometimes just to find the three different brands and flavors that my family eats. It would be so much easier if there was only the equivalent of a black car in the cereal aisle. "Any customer can have whatever cereal he wants as long as it is corn flakes." Just think of the time that would save!
When Finola asked me what I thought of the SOPA legislation, I realized that even though I work on Capitol Hill I don't know enough about it to have formed an opinion on it one way or the other. Finola informed me that it would hurt smaller artists and some websites. Playing devil's advocate, my rebuttal was about intellectual property and copyrights. I knew enough to know that the recording industry and the motion pictures association support SOPA. It took Finola's reminder that SOPA stands for Stop Online Piracy Act for me to know what S-O-P-A means.
It would be so easy to just accept what people told me rather than learning about both sides of the issue. It's more than just having an inquisitive spirit. It's also having the ability to reason for myself. It's the time and effort to seek out as much knowledge on issues as I can before making a decision. There would be more time available for important decisions if there weren't so many other decision distractions.
I still don't know enough about to SOPA to have a fully formed opinion. And I'm not ready to adopt one position over another just because someone says I should. Not even if that someone is Mr. Gaelic. My independence is one of the things that attracted him to me in the first place. But that's a blog for another time.
What really depresses me is that I don't see that quest for information and knowledge very often in today's society. Or at least the level that I would expect from a first-world country. Am I the only thinking girl in America?
[Title taken from this.]
If only it was that easy! Now a trip to the grocery store leaves me mentally exhausted. There is whole milk, 2%, 1%, skim, organic, grass-fed, soy, almond, goat, unpasteurized. The cereal aisle alone takes twenty minutes alone sometimes just to find the three different brands and flavors that my family eats. It would be so much easier if there was only the equivalent of a black car in the cereal aisle. "Any customer can have whatever cereal he wants as long as it is corn flakes." Just think of the time that would save!
When Finola asked me what I thought of the SOPA legislation, I realized that even though I work on Capitol Hill I don't know enough about it to have formed an opinion on it one way or the other. Finola informed me that it would hurt smaller artists and some websites. Playing devil's advocate, my rebuttal was about intellectual property and copyrights. I knew enough to know that the recording industry and the motion pictures association support SOPA. It took Finola's reminder that SOPA stands for Stop Online Piracy Act for me to know what S-O-P-A means.
It would be so easy to just accept what people told me rather than learning about both sides of the issue. It's more than just having an inquisitive spirit. It's also having the ability to reason for myself. It's the time and effort to seek out as much knowledge on issues as I can before making a decision. There would be more time available for important decisions if there weren't so many other decision distractions.
I still don't know enough about to SOPA to have a fully formed opinion. And I'm not ready to adopt one position over another just because someone says I should. Not even if that someone is Mr. Gaelic. My independence is one of the things that attracted him to me in the first place. But that's a blog for another time.
What really depresses me is that I don't see that quest for information and knowledge very often in today's society. Or at least the level that I would expect from a first-world country. Am I the only thinking girl in America?
[Title taken from this.]
30.10.11
Go Along, Get Along?
During my college days, my long-term boyfriend was the grandson of a Nazi soldier. His grandfather was just a regular German who fought for his country. In fact, many Germans sat idly by while their leaders tried to spread their ideals to other countries.
A couple of weeks ago my blog post bordered on alarmist. A friend had voiced a prophecy some years back that now seems to be coming true. This was no ordinary prophecy. She warned of a growing movement that could overtake us without our resistance. She warned of economic woes, a growing divide between economic classes, and a rigidity that could mean intolerance towards some groups.
There have been several disturbing articles recently that bolster her prognostication. Imagine a country full of people who are proud patriots, nationalists, true believers in the absolute military power of the country. It's not so bad when it's us. But imagine if that country were Spain under a present-day Franco or Italy ruled by a present-day Mussolini. Remember during the '30s all the swastika-emblazoned flags that lined the streets of Berlin. Now imagine a fiscally-sound Germany who bails out weaker economies insisting that countries pay fealty to their German saviors.
Imagine if it were us instead of the Germans. Would we sit idly by like the good German people of the 1930s did? Would you leave the country? Would you focus your energy on reclaiming your country? Would you live a quiet, consenting civilian life? Or join the military and climb to the top of the ranks? Would you go along with the people in authority? Would you throw your moral reservations to the wayside and join the army? Would you put a belief in your chosen political party ahead of the country? Would you be proud of your country and your heritage to the point of wanting the country to look exactly like what you think it should look like?
Have we already met the enemy? Is he us?
[Take the Would-I-Be-a-Nazi test and tell me what you would have been. Me? I scored as an Expat.]
A couple of weeks ago my blog post bordered on alarmist. A friend had voiced a prophecy some years back that now seems to be coming true. This was no ordinary prophecy. She warned of a growing movement that could overtake us without our resistance. She warned of economic woes, a growing divide between economic classes, and a rigidity that could mean intolerance towards some groups.
There have been several disturbing articles recently that bolster her prognostication. Imagine a country full of people who are proud patriots, nationalists, true believers in the absolute military power of the country. It's not so bad when it's us. But imagine if that country were Spain under a present-day Franco or Italy ruled by a present-day Mussolini. Remember during the '30s all the swastika-emblazoned flags that lined the streets of Berlin. Now imagine a fiscally-sound Germany who bails out weaker economies insisting that countries pay fealty to their German saviors.
Imagine if it were us instead of the Germans. Would we sit idly by like the good German people of the 1930s did? Would you leave the country? Would you focus your energy on reclaiming your country? Would you live a quiet, consenting civilian life? Or join the military and climb to the top of the ranks? Would you go along with the people in authority? Would you throw your moral reservations to the wayside and join the army? Would you put a belief in your chosen political party ahead of the country? Would you be proud of your country and your heritage to the point of wanting the country to look exactly like what you think it should look like?
Have we already met the enemy? Is he us?
[Take the Would-I-Be-a-Nazi test and tell me what you would have been. Me? I scored as an Expat.]
16.10.11
Santa Anna, Santayana, Santana and Shakespeare
Only researchers, employees, and a few tourists read the quote. Yet it is one that practically everyone knows. "What is past is prologue."1 It is inscribed in marble beneath a statue of a woman with an open book on her lap. At the researchers' and employees' entrance to the National Archives. Want to see the Founding Documents? Enter on the opposite side of the building.
That quote echoes through my mind regularly, the intervals between moments spent dwelling on it ever decreasing. All because of something a friend pontificated several years ago. What she said did not, at the time, make me shake in my boots. But the shaking began a couple of years ago and is now bordering on worry.
It turns out my friend is a prophet. The reason for the worry is another prophecy from the early 1800s. "If we [Mexicans] are not successful, our grandchildren and their grandchildren will beg for crumbs from the Americans!"2
The History of the World, Part 2 seems to me to be repeating the history of the world from a time just beyond living memory. A time that only a handful of people alive today were part of. And then, only as children feeling the effects.
Remember the '20s not only for their Roaring but also for their restriction; the '30s for their meager times; and the '40s for the results of the previous two decades. Why? "Those who don't remember the past are doomed to repeat it."3
Yes, this post is purposefully vague. My hope is that my friend really isn't a prophet, but just a hack pulpiteer. My prayer is for her to be wrong. And to avoid anxiety or, worse, hysteria (mostly on my part), I refrain from passing along her prophecy.
It's time for something other than prophecies. It's time for some preachifying. Which brings us to the last quote for today. "The most valuable possession you can own is an open heart. The most powerful weapon you can be is an instrument of peace."4
If we all live by those words, perhaps we would never repeat our own mistakes.
1. William Shakespeare
2. Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna
3. George Santayana
4. Carlos Santana
That quote echoes through my mind regularly, the intervals between moments spent dwelling on it ever decreasing. All because of something a friend pontificated several years ago. What she said did not, at the time, make me shake in my boots. But the shaking began a couple of years ago and is now bordering on worry.
It turns out my friend is a prophet. The reason for the worry is another prophecy from the early 1800s. "If we [Mexicans] are not successful, our grandchildren and their grandchildren will beg for crumbs from the Americans!"2
The History of the World, Part 2 seems to me to be repeating the history of the world from a time just beyond living memory. A time that only a handful of people alive today were part of. And then, only as children feeling the effects.
Remember the '20s not only for their Roaring but also for their restriction; the '30s for their meager times; and the '40s for the results of the previous two decades. Why? "Those who don't remember the past are doomed to repeat it."3
Yes, this post is purposefully vague. My hope is that my friend really isn't a prophet, but just a hack pulpiteer. My prayer is for her to be wrong. And to avoid anxiety or, worse, hysteria (mostly on my part), I refrain from passing along her prophecy.
It's time for something other than prophecies. It's time for some preachifying. Which brings us to the last quote for today. "The most valuable possession you can own is an open heart. The most powerful weapon you can be is an instrument of peace."4
If we all live by those words, perhaps we would never repeat our own mistakes.
1. William Shakespeare
2. Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna
3. George Santayana
4. Carlos Santana
9.9.11
Fear Not!
Everyone else is doing it. Might as well jump on the bandwagon. Remembrances of, thoughts about, lives changed by 9/11.
To begin, a friend and former co-worker was in a meeting at the Pentagon that fateful morning. My firefighter neighbors confirmed that he probably didn't know what was happening and that he didn't suffer.
My city has received renewed threats on this anniversary. The police and other security officials near my office have stepped up their presence. A current co-worker doesn't want to be within 200 miles of here this weekend. Not being able to decamp to our home state, she has promised her mother not to leave her apartment at all this weekend.
Yet, I'm not afraid.
Fear won't prevent me from going to the mall, or the grocery store, or the pub to watch football. I am more terrified of driving on the interstate in a deluge of a rainstorm than I am of being targetted by a terrorist. I'm more fearful of dying of cancer than of dying at the hands of some vengeful zealot hellbent on driving a figuative stake through our collective capitalist hearts.
They didn't do their job. If they were successful terrorists, they would have filled me with terror. They didn't. They didn't defeat me. Like a child who tells the monster under the bed that he is no longer afraid of it because it's not real, I have told the monster in the fertilizer-and-fuel-oil-packed rental truck that I am not afraid of him. He may kill my body, but never my spirit.
Because I am not afraid.
[Title taken from this.]
To begin, a friend and former co-worker was in a meeting at the Pentagon that fateful morning. My firefighter neighbors confirmed that he probably didn't know what was happening and that he didn't suffer.
My city has received renewed threats on this anniversary. The police and other security officials near my office have stepped up their presence. A current co-worker doesn't want to be within 200 miles of here this weekend. Not being able to decamp to our home state, she has promised her mother not to leave her apartment at all this weekend.
Yet, I'm not afraid.
Fear won't prevent me from going to the mall, or the grocery store, or the pub to watch football. I am more terrified of driving on the interstate in a deluge of a rainstorm than I am of being targetted by a terrorist. I'm more fearful of dying of cancer than of dying at the hands of some vengeful zealot hellbent on driving a figuative stake through our collective capitalist hearts.
They didn't do their job. If they were successful terrorists, they would have filled me with terror. They didn't. They didn't defeat me. Like a child who tells the monster under the bed that he is no longer afraid of it because it's not real, I have told the monster in the fertilizer-and-fuel-oil-packed rental truck that I am not afraid of him. He may kill my body, but never my spirit.
Because I am not afraid.
[Title taken from this.]
11.7.11
All in a Day's Work
Ring, ring. [abridged office phone call - actual lasted about 20 minutes]
Gaelic: This is Gaelic.
Caller: Hi, Miss Gaelic. This is Marcus Brown. I'm calling to tell you that you won three five five million dollars.
Gaelic: [mental alarms going off]
MB: We want to deliver the check to you today. Can I have your address?
G: Do you know who you're calling?
MB: Yes. Miss Gaelic. What is your address?
G: [decides to play along] U.S. Capitol Building, Washington, DC.
MB: I'm sorry. That's not a valid address.
G: Try this. One one zero zero Longworth Building, Washington, DC 20515.
MB: Our company will pay 99% of the tax bill. You just have to pay 1% of the tax bill.
G: Oh, really?
MB: Just send a money order to Courtney Evans, Brownstown, JAWI, St. Ann. As soon as the check is deposited I'll call you back.
G: Do you know where you're calling?
MB: Yes. Miss Gaelic. I'll call you back as soon as the check is deposited.
G: Okay, but before I go I just wanted to make sure you know who you're talking to. I work for the United States government and I've had you on the phone long enough to have this call traced.
MB: [dial tone - he hung up]
Dial, dial, dial.
Committee Staff: Financial Services Committee. How may I help you?
G: [explains preceding phone call]
CS: Just a minute. We have a Secret Service agent detailed to the committee. Let me get him.
Secret Service Agent: Can you give me all the details you have?
G: [repeats story to SSA complete with notes taken during phone call]
SSA: [finds the phone number registered as a cell phone in Sarasota, FL]
SSA: It's probably a Nigerian scam that wires the money through Jamaica.
G: But he called on my office phone.
SSA: It's probably some sweat shop where they're going down a list of numbers.
SSA: [finds address that I gave him in, wait for it... Jamaica]
SSA: There are one-star generals who have lost thousands of dollars in scams like this. It's a good thing you were smart enough not to get hooked.
G: [thinking to self - If I won $355,000,000, I don't think they'd be asking for 1% in taxes. And besides, don't people watch TV, read the paper, or listen to the radio to know about these scams?]
Just in case you didn't know about these scams or you assumed they would never call you, think again. They're out there. And you've been warned.
Oh, and if you ever do get one of these calls, take copious notes and let me know. I'll put you in touch with a really nice Secret Service agent who'll send the report to Headquarters.
Gaelic: This is Gaelic.
Caller: Hi, Miss Gaelic. This is Marcus Brown. I'm calling to tell you that you won three five five million dollars.
Gaelic: [mental alarms going off]
MB: We want to deliver the check to you today. Can I have your address?
G: Do you know who you're calling?
MB: Yes. Miss Gaelic. What is your address?
G: [decides to play along] U.S. Capitol Building, Washington, DC.
MB: I'm sorry. That's not a valid address.
G: Try this. One one zero zero Longworth Building, Washington, DC 20515.
MB: Our company will pay 99% of the tax bill. You just have to pay 1% of the tax bill.
G: Oh, really?
MB: Just send a money order to Courtney Evans, Brownstown, JAWI, St. Ann. As soon as the check is deposited I'll call you back.
G: Do you know where you're calling?
MB: Yes. Miss Gaelic. I'll call you back as soon as the check is deposited.
G: Okay, but before I go I just wanted to make sure you know who you're talking to. I work for the United States government and I've had you on the phone long enough to have this call traced.
MB: [dial tone - he hung up]
Dial, dial, dial.
Committee Staff: Financial Services Committee. How may I help you?
G: [explains preceding phone call]
CS: Just a minute. We have a Secret Service agent detailed to the committee. Let me get him.
Secret Service Agent: Can you give me all the details you have?
G: [repeats story to SSA complete with notes taken during phone call]
SSA: [finds the phone number registered as a cell phone in Sarasota, FL]
SSA: It's probably a Nigerian scam that wires the money through Jamaica.
G: But he called on my office phone.
SSA: It's probably some sweat shop where they're going down a list of numbers.
SSA: [finds address that I gave him in, wait for it... Jamaica]
SSA: There are one-star generals who have lost thousands of dollars in scams like this. It's a good thing you were smart enough not to get hooked.
G: [thinking to self - If I won $355,000,000, I don't think they'd be asking for 1% in taxes. And besides, don't people watch TV, read the paper, or listen to the radio to know about these scams?]
Just in case you didn't know about these scams or you assumed they would never call you, think again. They're out there. And you've been warned.
Oh, and if you ever do get one of these calls, take copious notes and let me know. I'll put you in touch with a really nice Secret Service agent who'll send the report to Headquarters.
6.5.11
Purple People Meter*
Past blogs have extolled my mundanity and averageness. A Regular Jane. Main Street Denizen. Mainline Protestant. Middle of the road, garden variety, dime a dozen.
Now it's confirmed that my politics are smack dab in the middle as well. The Pew Research Center released their 2011 Political Typology. It's nothing that we didn't already know. The two political extremes are more polarized. And the middle is hard to define.
How do you classify someone who is pro-choice, pro-death penalty, anti-DREAM Act, pro-English only, pro-nuclear power, anti-flat tax, pro-gay marriage, anti-divorce, pro-gun rights, anti-lead bullets, anti-school sex ed classes, anti-needle exchange, pro-military draft? Someone who attends church every week and flies the American flag every day? Someone who buys all organic food and mows her yard with a reel push mower but drives an SUV and refuses to use CFL light bulbs?
The Pew Research Center confirmed that I'm as purple as they come. A "Post-Modern". Take the test. Find out what you are. Then tell me. Are you who you think you are?
*Title inspired by this.
Now it's confirmed that my politics are smack dab in the middle as well. The Pew Research Center released their 2011 Political Typology. It's nothing that we didn't already know. The two political extremes are more polarized. And the middle is hard to define.
How do you classify someone who is pro-choice, pro-death penalty, anti-DREAM Act, pro-English only, pro-nuclear power, anti-flat tax, pro-gay marriage, anti-divorce, pro-gun rights, anti-lead bullets, anti-school sex ed classes, anti-needle exchange, pro-military draft? Someone who attends church every week and flies the American flag every day? Someone who buys all organic food and mows her yard with a reel push mower but drives an SUV and refuses to use CFL light bulbs?
The Pew Research Center confirmed that I'm as purple as they come. A "Post-Modern". Take the test. Find out what you are. Then tell me. Are you who you think you are?
*Title inspired by this.
3.5.11
Post-Casserole Life
The Internet is buzzing with individuals and groups who are coming to the aid of the tornado victims across the south, most predominately in Alabama. FEMA is there, as is USDA for farmers. Everyone wants to help.
This is my home state. Of course I'm concerned about the people. But I'm not helping. Not yet. With all the influx of money and goods and offers of help, my help won't make any real difference right now. Instead I pray for them.
Is it callousness that prevents me from helping? No. On the contrary. I am very worried about what will happen to all those families, young people, elderly people, farmers, small business owners, whoever they are.
I'm waiting for the phenomenon known as the Casserole Period to end before I offer help in terms of time, talents, and treasure. Anyone who has lost a close family member -- parent, spouse, child -- knows exactly what the Casserole Period is.
On average, it's about six months long. During those first months after the funeral, neighbors and church members and friends bring casseroles and frozen dishes for the family's supper. They ask how you're holding up. They offer to help in whatever way is needed. And then it stops.
People no longer ask how you're holding up. They worry if you look sad or teary-eyed after what they think is sufficient time to be over your grief. They no longer bring casseroles.
And so it is with natural disasters. Our focus moves on. Remember Banda Aceh? McDowell County, West Virginia? New Orleans? Port-au-Prince? Christchurch? Sendai? Fukushima?
There will still be a need for assistance six, nine, eighteen months from now. Who will be there to bring casseroles after another trip around the sun?
This is my home state. Of course I'm concerned about the people. But I'm not helping. Not yet. With all the influx of money and goods and offers of help, my help won't make any real difference right now. Instead I pray for them.
Is it callousness that prevents me from helping? No. On the contrary. I am very worried about what will happen to all those families, young people, elderly people, farmers, small business owners, whoever they are.
I'm waiting for the phenomenon known as the Casserole Period to end before I offer help in terms of time, talents, and treasure. Anyone who has lost a close family member -- parent, spouse, child -- knows exactly what the Casserole Period is.
On average, it's about six months long. During those first months after the funeral, neighbors and church members and friends bring casseroles and frozen dishes for the family's supper. They ask how you're holding up. They offer to help in whatever way is needed. And then it stops.
People no longer ask how you're holding up. They worry if you look sad or teary-eyed after what they think is sufficient time to be over your grief. They no longer bring casseroles.
And so it is with natural disasters. Our focus moves on. Remember Banda Aceh? McDowell County, West Virginia? New Orleans? Port-au-Prince? Christchurch? Sendai? Fukushima?
There will still be a need for assistance six, nine, eighteen months from now. Who will be there to bring casseroles after another trip around the sun?
27.4.11
No Noise Is Good Noise
Technology is amazing. Apparently the forecasters are able to predict days in advance the massive storms, whether snowpocalypse in the mid-Atlantic two years ago or the tornadoes across the South in the last few days. An update from FEMA came to my email inbox yesterday warning about severe storm in Alabama today.
After leaving work early today in advance of a possible tornado watch, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the computer. The streaming weather report from a news station in Birmingham ran in the background as other weather sites were checked. The long track tornado began in eastern Mississippi following I-20/59 northeast through downtown Tuscaloosa, near the airport in Birmingham, and the United Methodist Church in Goshen.
Watching the videos that became available, my mind raced to my childhood, growing up traveling those roads, visiting those towns with my parents to visit family friends, eating at the Krispy Kreme in Tuscaloosa. I know those places. As the tornado made its way along the general path of the interstate, I didn't want to stop watching until it was certain that my hometown was safe. As a genealogist, my concern and worry even touched on the old graveyards where my ancestors are buried. Who would right their headstones if the tornado hit the cemetery?
As the tornado tracked to the south of my hometown, my attention turned to possible tornadic activity a few counties away from my current home. It's quiet out there right now. Please no freight train noise during the night.
After leaving work early today in advance of a possible tornado watch, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the computer. The streaming weather report from a news station in Birmingham ran in the background as other weather sites were checked. The long track tornado began in eastern Mississippi following I-20/59 northeast through downtown Tuscaloosa, near the airport in Birmingham, and the United Methodist Church in Goshen.
Watching the videos that became available, my mind raced to my childhood, growing up traveling those roads, visiting those towns with my parents to visit family friends, eating at the Krispy Kreme in Tuscaloosa. I know those places. As the tornado made its way along the general path of the interstate, I didn't want to stop watching until it was certain that my hometown was safe. As a genealogist, my concern and worry even touched on the old graveyards where my ancestors are buried. Who would right their headstones if the tornado hit the cemetery?
As the tornado tracked to the south of my hometown, my attention turned to possible tornadic activity a few counties away from my current home. It's quiet out there right now. Please no freight train noise during the night.
20.3.11
To Promote the General Well-Being
Lou Gehrig said, "Today, I consider myself to be the luckiest man on the face of the earth." What of the happiest person in America? The New York Times knows.
According to the annual Gallup-Healthways Well-Being Index, he is a tall, Asian-American, observant Jew who is at least 65 and married, has children, lives in Hawaii, runs his own business and has a household income of more than $120,000 a year. And the New York Times tracked down someone who fit that description. To top it off, they posted an interactive map online to compare the well-being of Americans by congressional district based on several criteria.
We Americans always love a great competition. "My district is better than your district." Ever noticed how everything devolves into winners and losers? Such as chanting "U-S-A, U-S-A!" at presidential inaugurations. Imagine folks chanting "U-K, U-K!" or "Deutsch-land, Deutsch-land!" But that's a different blog and I digress.
After my initial curiosity of comparing my current district to my childhood district, my eyes opened to the real possibility of using the information on the map to my best advantage. Mr. Gaelic and I want to retire to the mountains, preferably East Coast mountains rather than west of the Great Plains. Our initial search for land is centered on eastern Tennessee, western North Carolina, and southwestern Virginia, the land of our forebears. But should we be looking elsewhere?
Take a look at the clues on the map. Those areas tend to have higher rates of depression, health problems, high cholesterol, diabetes, and smoking than my current district. They also have less nighttime safety, dental visits, and health insurance than my current district. That generally translates to less productive and active seniors, more police presence at the expense of taxpayers, and more morbidity for everyone.
Time to expand the search for mountain property.
According to the annual Gallup-Healthways Well-Being Index, he is a tall, Asian-American, observant Jew who is at least 65 and married, has children, lives in Hawaii, runs his own business and has a household income of more than $120,000 a year. And the New York Times tracked down someone who fit that description. To top it off, they posted an interactive map online to compare the well-being of Americans by congressional district based on several criteria.
We Americans always love a great competition. "My district is better than your district." Ever noticed how everything devolves into winners and losers? Such as chanting "U-S-A, U-S-A!" at presidential inaugurations. Imagine folks chanting "U-K, U-K!" or "Deutsch-land, Deutsch-land!" But that's a different blog and I digress.
After my initial curiosity of comparing my current district to my childhood district, my eyes opened to the real possibility of using the information on the map to my best advantage. Mr. Gaelic and I want to retire to the mountains, preferably East Coast mountains rather than west of the Great Plains. Our initial search for land is centered on eastern Tennessee, western North Carolina, and southwestern Virginia, the land of our forebears. But should we be looking elsewhere?
Take a look at the clues on the map. Those areas tend to have higher rates of depression, health problems, high cholesterol, diabetes, and smoking than my current district. They also have less nighttime safety, dental visits, and health insurance than my current district. That generally translates to less productive and active seniors, more police presence at the expense of taxpayers, and more morbidity for everyone.
Time to expand the search for mountain property.
12.3.11
Don't Wanna Be an American Idiot
Movies can be entertaining, funny, serious, thought-provoking, cautionary, even edifying. Rarely is there a movie that drains whatever intellect is left in the brain second by second until the last frame. This one ranks in the so-bad-you-don't-want-to-miss-a-second-of-it category. Let's see if there are enough brain cells still intact and not screaming out in an agonizingly slow death-by-Hollywood to write this blog.
Tonight's feature film was chosen based on an online exchange with some folks about the dumbing down of practically everything. One person suggested that the movie "Idiocracy" should be viewed more as a cautionary science fiction tale than a "Porky's"-like farce. Having never even heard of "Idiocracy" it went to the front of the Netflix queue.
The opening shots of mountains of rubbish taller than buildings reminded me of the opening shots in "WALL-E". I know WALL-E. WALL-E was a friendly little movie. And Idiocracy is no WALL-E.
Both movies have a protagonist that is "not one of us". In both movies, tender sprouts play a major role. In both movies, humans have gone soft.
In WALL-E, humans play a supporting role to the robots and machines. It makes watching the movie much easier because we identify with the robots more than the humans. We can pity the humans for what they allowed themselves to become.
In being a comedy, Idiocracy makes it difficult to pity the humans. It's difficult to feel any connection with the humans because humans are the story. We're left to wonder if too many episodes of Beavis and Butthead accelerated the decline of humans in the movie. Ironic, when you remember that Idiocracy was brought to us by the same creative team behind Beavis and Butthead.
Like a rubber-necker who can't turn away from the sight of a horrific and deadly crash scene, my eyes were glued to the screen until the after-credits scene. My mouth may have been hanging open due to the badness (and not in a good sense) of the movie. Afterwards it felt like I needed a shower. And not just to shower off the dirt. A mental shower to help wash out the trash and replenish some modicum of intelligence.
My brain cells were begging for "American Masters", a good ballet, or Harry Connick Jr. singing old standards. When did being smart or liking ballet and opera become a joke? Does knowing O Fortuna at the first two notes make me an elitist? If so, send me to Siberia or put me to work in the rice patties.
Tonight's feature film was chosen based on an online exchange with some folks about the dumbing down of practically everything. One person suggested that the movie "Idiocracy" should be viewed more as a cautionary science fiction tale than a "Porky's"-like farce. Having never even heard of "Idiocracy" it went to the front of the Netflix queue.
The opening shots of mountains of rubbish taller than buildings reminded me of the opening shots in "WALL-E". I know WALL-E. WALL-E was a friendly little movie. And Idiocracy is no WALL-E.
Both movies have a protagonist that is "not one of us". In both movies, tender sprouts play a major role. In both movies, humans have gone soft.
In WALL-E, humans play a supporting role to the robots and machines. It makes watching the movie much easier because we identify with the robots more than the humans. We can pity the humans for what they allowed themselves to become.
In being a comedy, Idiocracy makes it difficult to pity the humans. It's difficult to feel any connection with the humans because humans are the story. We're left to wonder if too many episodes of Beavis and Butthead accelerated the decline of humans in the movie. Ironic, when you remember that Idiocracy was brought to us by the same creative team behind Beavis and Butthead.
Like a rubber-necker who can't turn away from the sight of a horrific and deadly crash scene, my eyes were glued to the screen until the after-credits scene. My mouth may have been hanging open due to the badness (and not in a good sense) of the movie. Afterwards it felt like I needed a shower. And not just to shower off the dirt. A mental shower to help wash out the trash and replenish some modicum of intelligence.
My brain cells were begging for "American Masters", a good ballet, or Harry Connick Jr. singing old standards. When did being smart or liking ballet and opera become a joke? Does knowing O Fortuna at the first two notes make me an elitist? If so, send me to Siberia or put me to work in the rice patties.
1.3.11
10.1.11
How Far Is It from Tuscon to Punjab?
There were about 30 emails on my office computer this morning. About the Tuscon shooting. And safety. Although Congress wasn't in session today, there was a gathering on the east front for a moment of silence for the Arizona victims.
The Sergent at Arms and the Capitol Police sent information on personal safety that included how to avoid a terrorist roadblock while driving, how to avoid being boxed in while driving, and how to alert the police if someone acting abnormally comes into your office. In addition to safety briefings, we were given hoods to be worn in case of chemical, biological, or nuclear attacks. We received two one-way alert radios connected directly to the Capitol Police. And two shelter-in-place packs the size of large carry-on bags.
Where do you draw the line between accessibility and safety? Where do we set the gauges on any spectrum? And whom do we trust?
Salmaan Taseer couldn't even trust his own guard.
The Sergent at Arms and the Capitol Police sent information on personal safety that included how to avoid a terrorist roadblock while driving, how to avoid being boxed in while driving, and how to alert the police if someone acting abnormally comes into your office. In addition to safety briefings, we were given hoods to be worn in case of chemical, biological, or nuclear attacks. We received two one-way alert radios connected directly to the Capitol Police. And two shelter-in-place packs the size of large carry-on bags.
Where do you draw the line between accessibility and safety? Where do we set the gauges on any spectrum? And whom do we trust?
Salmaan Taseer couldn't even trust his own guard.
8.1.11
Truth or Consequences
You're all sworn to secrecy about what I'm going to tell you. The reason for the secrecy is also the reason you're reading this here on Blogspot rather than on the MSN site. My former blog is shuttered because of a stalker. Bear with me in my cryptic ways of blogging. It's for safety reasons.
Last month, after taking time away from the paid workforce to raise my children, I accepted a job with an incoming Member of C0ngress* from my home state. One of my blogs described the journey to this job. During the first week in the office, my boss was interviewed for one of the three major nightly news programs. In the segment was a very quick shot of me at work at my desk while his press secretary stood beside my chair. We were in the background as he was moving some things into the office. It's around the ten minute mark in the video.
My apologies for not explicitly saying my boss's name or home state. Please understand my need for a bit of privacy. Even by posting the past few blogs, my fear is that someone can still piece together too much information. Now for the consequences.
Please, please, please, if you have figured out all (even with my cryptic writing), keep it to yourself. If my stalker ever discovers this site, it too will be taken down.
*Purposefully typed wrong to throw off search engines.
Last month, after taking time away from the paid workforce to raise my children, I accepted a job with an incoming Member of C0ngress* from my home state. One of my blogs described the journey to this job. During the first week in the office, my boss was interviewed for one of the three major nightly news programs. In the segment was a very quick shot of me at work at my desk while his press secretary stood beside my chair. We were in the background as he was moving some things into the office. It's around the ten minute mark in the video.
My apologies for not explicitly saying my boss's name or home state. Please understand my need for a bit of privacy. Even by posting the past few blogs, my fear is that someone can still piece together too much information. Now for the consequences.
Please, please, please, if you have figured out all (even with my cryptic writing), keep it to yourself. If my stalker ever discovers this site, it too will be taken down.
*Purposefully typed wrong to throw off search engines.
7.1.11
Twofer; or, Update to Hi Mom
Since there was more than one request for a link to the video that I mentioned on Wednesday, here is the video. Look closely. I'm not on camera that long.
5.1.11
Hi Mom!
Did you see me on TV last night and tonight? It was very short. In the background shot of my boss. On one of the national nightly news programs.
What? You didn't TiVo the news?
As I said, very short. Just like this blog.
What? You didn't TiVo the news?
As I said, very short. Just like this blog.
5.10.10
Mental Post-It Note
Note to self: If one of your hometown friends is a politician in the minority party and is arrested on trumped up charges, do not under any circumstances comment on his Facebook status, picture, or link. The updates from subsequent comments will flood your email inbox faster than the winner at the Daytona 500 and with more mail than Santa Claus gets in any given December.
30.9.10
Rot Off the Press
OMG! Have you heard? Jennifer Grey is the judges' favorite on "Dancing With the Stars". Snooki wants to date a nympho. "Australia's Next Top Model" crowned the wrong winner on live TV. Michael Douglas has cancer. And the Bachelorette just broke up with her fiance.
When did this happen? When did talk shows like "The Merv Griffin Show" devolve into Jerry Springer and Howard Stern? Will we do anything for our 15 minutes?
It used to be that only "white trash" would air their dirty laundry in public. That lesson stuck so hard that I view all "reality" shows as catering to the sleaze factor of the trailer set. Come on, people. Do we really need to watch a bunch of vapid narcissists out-shallow each other with their tantrums and gotcha moments?
Anyone who knows me well enough knows that there is only one television set in the Gaelic household. And the one set is usually unplugged (damn energy vampire) and turned on only for special occasions or Netflix viewings.
Just as the families on "19 Kids and Counting" and "Sister Wives" don't discuss how their religion plays a major role in having so many children or spouses, this blog is doing a grand job eluding the question of whether activities like blogging and Facebook updates aren't grasps for 15 minutes' worth of fame, if only from a small number of people. Is it really important that the people I went to high school with know whether I had an intense ballet class or am missing Finola? Who do I write for? Why do I write?
Is it important to know that gunmen hijacked a school bus in Nigeria and kidnapped 15 children? What does it mean that Syria and Iraq have restored full diplomatic relations (you mean they broke diplomatic relations sometime?)? Who is Kim Jong-un and why did he go to boarding school in Switzerland? Is Brazil's cozy relationship with Iran really threatening the presidency of Dilma Rousseff? Does the Spanish unions' strike have anything to do with the austerity measures in other countries?
Do most people prefer the pablum of fluff? Has our national attention span been relegated to mere seconds? Is anybody still reading this?
Maybe none of us is better than the dirt-poor mama with six kids running around in a yard that she keeps clean with a broom. Maybe we need the fluff to keep our minds off of our daily monotony. I don't have the answers. But I doubt I'll find them in the grocery store check-out aisle.
When did this happen? When did talk shows like "The Merv Griffin Show" devolve into Jerry Springer and Howard Stern? Will we do anything for our 15 minutes?
It used to be that only "white trash" would air their dirty laundry in public. That lesson stuck so hard that I view all "reality" shows as catering to the sleaze factor of the trailer set. Come on, people. Do we really need to watch a bunch of vapid narcissists out-shallow each other with their tantrums and gotcha moments?
Anyone who knows me well enough knows that there is only one television set in the Gaelic household. And the one set is usually unplugged (damn energy vampire) and turned on only for special occasions or Netflix viewings.
Just as the families on "19 Kids and Counting" and "Sister Wives" don't discuss how their religion plays a major role in having so many children or spouses, this blog is doing a grand job eluding the question of whether activities like blogging and Facebook updates aren't grasps for 15 minutes' worth of fame, if only from a small number of people. Is it really important that the people I went to high school with know whether I had an intense ballet class or am missing Finola? Who do I write for? Why do I write?
Is it important to know that gunmen hijacked a school bus in Nigeria and kidnapped 15 children? What does it mean that Syria and Iraq have restored full diplomatic relations (you mean they broke diplomatic relations sometime?)? Who is Kim Jong-un and why did he go to boarding school in Switzerland? Is Brazil's cozy relationship with Iran really threatening the presidency of Dilma Rousseff? Does the Spanish unions' strike have anything to do with the austerity measures in other countries?
Do most people prefer the pablum of fluff? Has our national attention span been relegated to mere seconds? Is anybody still reading this?
Maybe none of us is better than the dirt-poor mama with six kids running around in a yard that she keeps clean with a broom. Maybe we need the fluff to keep our minds off of our daily monotony. I don't have the answers. But I doubt I'll find them in the grocery store check-out aisle.
28.9.10
La Vie en Français
Judging from a number of my friends on Facebook, most people use FB for diversions like Farmville, Sorority Life, etc. I figured out how to block those updates, and even block the game applications entirely. As if FB wasn't a big enough time sink.
However, that said, my FB updates tend to be mostly from news organizations (especially since the advent of my blocking game applications). I use the word "news" very loosely. That includes Martha Stewart Living, Backpacker Magazine, AMC Theatres, political blogs, and actual news sites such as the New York Times, the L.A. Times, the Guardian (UK), the Independent (another UK), and France 24.
France 24 (in the French pronunciation) gives much more international news than the other sites. However, it's all in French. That's a great way to keep my French from rusting to oblivion. Take this morning's update,
However, that said, my FB updates tend to be mostly from news organizations (especially since the advent of my blocking game applications). I use the word "news" very loosely. That includes Martha Stewart Living, Backpacker Magazine, AMC Theatres, political blogs, and actual news sites such as the New York Times, the L.A. Times, the Guardian (UK), the Independent (another UK), and France 24.
France 24 (in the French pronunciation) gives much more international news than the other sites. However, it's all in French. That's a great way to keep my French from rusting to oblivion. Take this morning's update,
26.9.10
Menu Plan: September 27 - October 3
Is next weekend really October? It can't be! It's still summer, isn't it? Around my neck of the woods, it certainly feels like summer. Not Indian summer but a continuation of summer with no reprieve. Our fair city broke records last week for temperature highs, and lows (the highest lows at night for this time of the year).
My figs are still ripening but there isn't enough to make another batch of fig preserves. I pulled up my tomato plants two weeks ago thinking fall and frost would be on the way. Those green tomatoes could have ripened on the vine. And my cool weather veggies were all burned to a withered crisp which means no late crop of collards, broccoli, or spinach.
This at a time when the dearth of veggies in the American diet has been everywhere recently. Health professionals have been trying to push the 5-a-day program for eating more fruits and veggies. In news reports in recent weeks have been stories about a campaign for baby carrots taking on junk food. In yesterday's New York Times was an article about how we Americans have (sort of) listened. We've turned to French fries to up our veggie intake. The article has a photo of a baby carrot vending machine next to a junk food vending machine. The baby carrot vending machines were even lampooned in last night's Weekend Update on Saturday Night Live (too recent for a video link).
So let's see if I can fit more fruits and vegetables into my family's menu this week.
My figs are still ripening but there isn't enough to make another batch of fig preserves. I pulled up my tomato plants two weeks ago thinking fall and frost would be on the way. Those green tomatoes could have ripened on the vine. And my cool weather veggies were all burned to a withered crisp which means no late crop of collards, broccoli, or spinach.
This at a time when the dearth of veggies in the American diet has been everywhere recently. Health professionals have been trying to push the 5-a-day program for eating more fruits and veggies. In news reports in recent weeks have been stories about a campaign for baby carrots taking on junk food. In yesterday's New York Times was an article about how we Americans have (sort of) listened. We've turned to French fries to up our veggie intake. The article has a photo of a baby carrot vending machine next to a junk food vending machine. The baby carrot vending machines were even lampooned in last night's Weekend Update on Saturday Night Live (too recent for a video link).
So let's see if I can fit more fruits and vegetables into my family's menu this week.
- Monday
- Breakfast: bagels with cream cheese
- Supper: potluck (Maeve's ballet, Deirdre's Girl Scout press event, Mr. Gaelic's weather delay from work [rain in the forecast means no motorcycle ride to work which means public transportation])
- Tuesday
- Breakfast: cereal
- Supper: whole baked cabbage (cabbage left over from last week's borscht)
- Wednesday
- Breakfast: grapefruit halves, toast
- Supper: baked mac & cheese, fried okra, honeyed carrots
- Thursday
- Breakfast: toast, fig preserves
- Supper: cheese soufflé, asparagus
- Friday
- Breakfast: oatmeal
- Supper: shrimp étouffée, rice, salad
- Saturday
- Breakfast: muffins, muffins, and more muffins (Muffins and Mugs [BYOM - bring your own mug] breakfast party we're throwing before our neighborhood arts festival)
- Supper: pizza for girls, dinner our for adults (fundraiser for new grand piano at our church)
- Sunday
- Breakfast: bacon, eggs, grits, toast
- Dinner: pot roast, roast potatoes, sugar peas
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