In the news recently has been the suit before the Supreme Court in which attorneys representing prisoners held at Guantanamo Bay are arguing the case for whether the detainees are entitled to the protection of the constitutional protection of habeas corpus - the right to prove before an independent court that they are being unlawfully held. As an excellent summary in the Washington Post reports, "It is a case that raises profound questions of the separation of powers and the role of the federal courts during wartime."
As you might expect, a few thoughts come to mind as I watch this legal kabuki dance.
The first, obvious one is that there are some very evil and unpleasant people being held at Guantanamo, demanding rights no other country in the world would even consider granting them. I don't think Abu Zubayda, Ramzi Binalshibh, and Khalid Sheikh Mohammed spent much time worrying about the legal rights of the 3,000 people they conspired to murder on September 11th, 2001 (one of whom was very nearly yours truly), and so I don't have much sympathy for the argument that we should worry about their rights. On the other hand, I believe we have an obligation to ensure that all the people held at Guantanamo really deserve to be there. I think there are probably some detainees there who, while they're arguably bad people, ought to be simply deported to their home countries, and good riddance.
I do, though, have some problems with how some of these detainees got to Guantanamo. The concept of extraordinary rendition isn't really new, but has been taken to a new level by the current administration. As noisims pointed out in his perceptive post yesterday, Adolf Eichmann, a Nazi war criminal, was kidnapped in Buenos Aires by Israeli agents in 1960 to face trial and eventual execution in Israel - this was a case of extraordinary rendition before we had such an elegant name for it, and Eichmann was a world-class criminal every bit as evil as anyone at Guantanamo. No one seems to be arguing that Eichmann's rights were violated.
Yes, the Bush administration has taken some liberties with the law. But to contend that the Guantanamo detainees deserve the same legal rights and privileges as American citizens is a cruel joke played on those killed on 9/11. I believe that rendition, properly overseen by the courts and applied only in the most critical cases, is warranted and legal. As for the people we hold now, figure out which ones really belong at Guantanamo, and deport the rest. If they take up arms against the civilized world again, just kill them this time, and be done with it.
By the way, does anyone other than me see any incongruity in the argument that Guantanamo detainees shouldn't be sent back to their home countries because they might be tortured or executed? The implied argument seems to be that, regardless of how they came to be at Guantanamo, they are better off in American custody than they are at home.
Hmmm...
Bottom line: the prison at Guantanamo, however unpleasant, is a necessary part of the war on extremist terror. That said, we owe it to ourselves and our traditions to make sure that it's administered in accordance with the law, and that the people brought there really deserve to be there. Lock them up, throw away the key, and let them rot in the bile of their own hatreds that brought them to this end.
I won't be shedding any tears.
Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.
Bilbo
Friday, December 07, 2007
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Home, Sweet Wherever
One of the staple themes of Christmas "going home." It began with the original Christmas story and the journey of Joseph and Mary home to Bethlehem to comply with the census decreed by the emperor Augustus. Our favorite Christmas carols include "I'll Be Home for Christmas" and "There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays," and millions of us will travel - often over great distances - to spend Christmas with our family at home.
But the question for many of us is, "where's home?"
I grew up at a time when people generally had roots in a local area. I spent almost my entire childhood in one house in Pittsburgh, and so I think of the house where Dad still lives as my "home."
But I left home in 1973 for a career in the Air Force, and in the ensuing 23 years, I lived in Denver, Colorado; Bossier City, Louisiana; Wiesbaden, Germany (twice!); Berlin, Germany; Woodbridge, Virginia; and, finally, the teeming megalopolis of Springfield, Virginia. Officially, Springfield is now "home." It's where we own a house (well, not exactly ... it's where the bank owns a house in which it lets us live as long as we keep up the payments) and where we work. It's not really where we want to live forever, but for now, it's home.
Things aren't the same for our children. Both of our sons were born in Louisiana, and our daughter was born in Germany. The boys now live in Ohio and California, and our daughter lives in Manassas, Virginia. Agnes was born in Germany, too, and lived in several places before following me to the States. We've all lived a footloose military family life in three- or four-year chunks in many places. For Agnes, and for our children, where's home?
The question applies to more and more people nowadays. As we move around in search of work or in response to job transfers, fewer of us have the chance to put down real roots, to have a place we can definitively identify as "home." The current issue of Smithsonian Magazine has an article on this topic by Richard Ford titled, "My Kind of Town," in which he looks at his current "home" of East Boothby, Maine, and recognizes that "I'll never be a native here."
What is "home"? Old adages say that "Home is where you hang your hat" (or where you hang your head), "Home is where the heart is," and "Home is where, when you go there, they have to take you in." The stereotypical mental picture of "home" is the warm, peaceful and loving place where you know you belong and can always find someone who loves you. It's a concept that helps to anchor us in a difficult world.
Of course, it doesn't apply to everyone, all the time. Tens of thousands of Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines won't be home for Christmas: they will spend the holidays in Iraq or Afghanistan, surrounded by people who at best dislike and, at worst, hate them. Many people will no doubt be stranded by the airlines, spending a large chunk of their holidays sleeping on uncomfortable airport chairs as they cope with overcrowded, delayed, or cancelled flights.
Agnes and I are fortunate. We're home, or as much at home as we're likely to be for the rest of our lives. We're putting down roots, of a sort. "Home" is now Springfield, Virginia - not necessarily the place we want to settle down when we finally retire, but for now, it's home.
As we approach the holidays, sing the songs, buy the gifts, put up the decorations, and mail the cards, think about what it means to be "home," and how fortunate you are if you know where "home" really is. Will you "stay home" or "go home"?
Whatever you do, and wherever "home" is, I hope you have a safe and happy holiday, whether you call it Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, or anything else.
Tomorrow, we'll home in on another topic. More thoughts then.
Have a good day.
Bilbo
But the question for many of us is, "where's home?"
I grew up at a time when people generally had roots in a local area. I spent almost my entire childhood in one house in Pittsburgh, and so I think of the house where Dad still lives as my "home."
But I left home in 1973 for a career in the Air Force, and in the ensuing 23 years, I lived in Denver, Colorado; Bossier City, Louisiana; Wiesbaden, Germany (twice!); Berlin, Germany; Woodbridge, Virginia; and, finally, the teeming megalopolis of Springfield, Virginia. Officially, Springfield is now "home." It's where we own a house (well, not exactly ... it's where the bank owns a house in which it lets us live as long as we keep up the payments) and where we work. It's not really where we want to live forever, but for now, it's home.
Things aren't the same for our children. Both of our sons were born in Louisiana, and our daughter was born in Germany. The boys now live in Ohio and California, and our daughter lives in Manassas, Virginia. Agnes was born in Germany, too, and lived in several places before following me to the States. We've all lived a footloose military family life in three- or four-year chunks in many places. For Agnes, and for our children, where's home?
The question applies to more and more people nowadays. As we move around in search of work or in response to job transfers, fewer of us have the chance to put down real roots, to have a place we can definitively identify as "home." The current issue of Smithsonian Magazine has an article on this topic by Richard Ford titled, "My Kind of Town," in which he looks at his current "home" of East Boothby, Maine, and recognizes that "I'll never be a native here."
What is "home"? Old adages say that "Home is where you hang your hat" (or where you hang your head), "Home is where the heart is," and "Home is where, when you go there, they have to take you in." The stereotypical mental picture of "home" is the warm, peaceful and loving place where you know you belong and can always find someone who loves you. It's a concept that helps to anchor us in a difficult world.
Of course, it doesn't apply to everyone, all the time. Tens of thousands of Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines won't be home for Christmas: they will spend the holidays in Iraq or Afghanistan, surrounded by people who at best dislike and, at worst, hate them. Many people will no doubt be stranded by the airlines, spending a large chunk of their holidays sleeping on uncomfortable airport chairs as they cope with overcrowded, delayed, or cancelled flights.
Agnes and I are fortunate. We're home, or as much at home as we're likely to be for the rest of our lives. We're putting down roots, of a sort. "Home" is now Springfield, Virginia - not necessarily the place we want to settle down when we finally retire, but for now, it's home.
As we approach the holidays, sing the songs, buy the gifts, put up the decorations, and mail the cards, think about what it means to be "home," and how fortunate you are if you know where "home" really is. Will you "stay home" or "go home"?
Whatever you do, and wherever "home" is, I hope you have a safe and happy holiday, whether you call it Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, or anything else.
Tomorrow, we'll home in on another topic. More thoughts then.
Have a good day.
Bilbo
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Pucker Up, Y'All!
Yesterday's post was a bit of a downer, but things always even out in the universe, and so I need to balance things out with a post on a bit more interesting and fun topic.
Let's kiss!
Just in time for the holiday season, during which women attending Christmas parties dodge drunken co-workers who see the mistletoe as a quasi-legitimate excuse to try to kiss them, CNN has posted an interesting article titled "Why Bad Kissers Don't Get to Second Base." Some of the bad kissers to which the title refers are described as "the lizard," "the washing machine," "the cannibal," and "the spelunker."
Ewwwww...
Okay, I like to kiss. Most people do. But there's a certain art and science to kissing, not to mention a lot of social rules that differ between cultures and social strata. When I lived in Berlin many years ago and worked in an environment with German, British, French, and American co-workers, I had to learn those rules and apply them in various social situations.
There was the French "air kiss," applied in varying numbers on alternating sides of the face - the idea was not to actually touch the lips to the cheek, but to sort of touch cheeks with a little smacking sound. This could be done two (left and right), three (left, right, left) or four (left, right, left, right) times, depending on the individuals involved and where they were from. I also learned that while it is elegant to kiss a lady's hand, one doesn't actually kiss the hand ... it's another air kiss.
There was the British kiss - a handshake, at least until you knew the lady better, at which time a single air kiss to the cheek became appropriate.
The Germans were (still are) masters of the handshake, until the proper level of interpersonal comfort is reached, at which time an air kiss or two may be appropriate. This can take years, and may help account for the falling German birthrate.
A subset of the German version is the "klinkety-kloonk" greeting between our friend Nadja and I - so called because we both wear glasses, and whenever we do the alternating cheek kiss, our eyewear tends to tangle with a "klinkety-kloonk."
Americans are much more open and free with their kisses. Men especially tend to dive right in and see how far they can go before the lady responds with a right hook. Ladies tend to be a bit more reserved, starting with a tiny peck on the cheek which, as the level of comfort with the kissee grows, increases in length and gradually moves forward to the edge of the mouth, then the lips, and then the so-called French, or open-mouthed kiss with tongue fencing. (I should note at this point that I never encountered "French kissing" with a French lady. I don't know what they would call it.)
Why do we kiss? Well, because it's enjoyable, but there are also varying strategies and goals involved in the act of kissing. The CNN article notes that, "For men, kissing is more often used as a means to an end -- namely, to gain sexual access. Men also are more likely to literally kiss and make up, using kissing to attempt reconciliation." Women, for their part, "...use kissing as a mate-assessment technique ... (t)hey subconsciously evaluate mating potential from the chemicals in their partner's saliva and breath, for instance."
That's a little more information than I needed, but it does validate the absolute horror I have of bad breath...after all, for a dancer, nothing can kill the mood like a partner whose breath smells like a fire on a garbage scow.
The article is fun and interesting, and worth investing a few minutes of your time to read. But in the last analysis, kissing is an act with many subtle (or not-so-sutble) layers of meaning packed into a simple, momentary act. It can kill the mood, signal a desire for more intimate contact, express various kinds of love (parental, spousal, friendship, etc), or just be a simple and perfunctory greeting.
However you kiss, be considerate of your partner when you go for that smooch under the holiday mistletoe. Unless you know that lady really well, it probably won't do to check out her tonsils with your tongue, especially if you've had a few drinks. And the ladies will, as they always do, navigate the rocky behavioral shoals of deciding which message to send: "get lost," "nice to see you," "you're a good friend," "I love you," or "let's get a room."
But enough talk - it's time to get ready for work, and then I can kiss Agnes goodbye. She won't know it, being still asleep, but it starts my day off right.
And creates hopes for the evening...
Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.
Bilbo
P.S. - The Christmas Party on board the Enterprise is in full swing at Captain Picard's Journal. We're all there - join us! Plenty of mistletoe and synthehol available!
B.
Let's kiss!
Just in time for the holiday season, during which women attending Christmas parties dodge drunken co-workers who see the mistletoe as a quasi-legitimate excuse to try to kiss them, CNN has posted an interesting article titled "Why Bad Kissers Don't Get to Second Base." Some of the bad kissers to which the title refers are described as "the lizard," "the washing machine," "the cannibal," and "the spelunker."
Ewwwww...
Okay, I like to kiss. Most people do. But there's a certain art and science to kissing, not to mention a lot of social rules that differ between cultures and social strata. When I lived in Berlin many years ago and worked in an environment with German, British, French, and American co-workers, I had to learn those rules and apply them in various social situations.
There was the French "air kiss," applied in varying numbers on alternating sides of the face - the idea was not to actually touch the lips to the cheek, but to sort of touch cheeks with a little smacking sound. This could be done two (left and right), three (left, right, left) or four (left, right, left, right) times, depending on the individuals involved and where they were from. I also learned that while it is elegant to kiss a lady's hand, one doesn't actually kiss the hand ... it's another air kiss.
There was the British kiss - a handshake, at least until you knew the lady better, at which time a single air kiss to the cheek became appropriate.
The Germans were (still are) masters of the handshake, until the proper level of interpersonal comfort is reached, at which time an air kiss or two may be appropriate. This can take years, and may help account for the falling German birthrate.
A subset of the German version is the "klinkety-kloonk" greeting between our friend Nadja and I - so called because we both wear glasses, and whenever we do the alternating cheek kiss, our eyewear tends to tangle with a "klinkety-kloonk."
Americans are much more open and free with their kisses. Men especially tend to dive right in and see how far they can go before the lady responds with a right hook. Ladies tend to be a bit more reserved, starting with a tiny peck on the cheek which, as the level of comfort with the kissee grows, increases in length and gradually moves forward to the edge of the mouth, then the lips, and then the so-called French, or open-mouthed kiss with tongue fencing. (I should note at this point that I never encountered "French kissing" with a French lady. I don't know what they would call it.)
Why do we kiss? Well, because it's enjoyable, but there are also varying strategies and goals involved in the act of kissing. The CNN article notes that, "For men, kissing is more often used as a means to an end -- namely, to gain sexual access. Men also are more likely to literally kiss and make up, using kissing to attempt reconciliation." Women, for their part, "...use kissing as a mate-assessment technique ... (t)hey subconsciously evaluate mating potential from the chemicals in their partner's saliva and breath, for instance."
That's a little more information than I needed, but it does validate the absolute horror I have of bad breath...after all, for a dancer, nothing can kill the mood like a partner whose breath smells like a fire on a garbage scow.
The article is fun and interesting, and worth investing a few minutes of your time to read. But in the last analysis, kissing is an act with many subtle (or not-so-sutble) layers of meaning packed into a simple, momentary act. It can kill the mood, signal a desire for more intimate contact, express various kinds of love (parental, spousal, friendship, etc), or just be a simple and perfunctory greeting.
However you kiss, be considerate of your partner when you go for that smooch under the holiday mistletoe. Unless you know that lady really well, it probably won't do to check out her tonsils with your tongue, especially if you've had a few drinks. And the ladies will, as they always do, navigate the rocky behavioral shoals of deciding which message to send: "get lost," "nice to see you," "you're a good friend," "I love you," or "let's get a room."
But enough talk - it's time to get ready for work, and then I can kiss Agnes goodbye. She won't know it, being still asleep, but it starts my day off right.
And creates hopes for the evening...
Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.
Bilbo
P.S. - The Christmas Party on board the Enterprise is in full swing at Captain Picard's Journal. We're all there - join us! Plenty of mistletoe and synthehol available!
B.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Teddy Bears and "Blasphemy"
The ridiculous saga of the British teacher arrested in the Sudan, charged with "blasphemy" and "insulting Islam" for allowing her students to name a teddy bear "Mohammed," and threatened with 40 lashes and imprisonment while crowds in the street called for her execution, is finally over. After the intervention of two Muslim members of the British parliament who traveled to the Sudan to "negotiate" on her behalf with president Omar al-Bashir, Bashir "pardoned" teacher Gillian Gibbons and expelled her from the country.
There is more to this appalling story than these bare bones, of course. It turns out that it was not the students or their parents who complained about the teacher and the teddy bear, but a former employee of the school, who had been fired and was apparently seeking a revenge that would close down the school. This seems to have succeeded, as the school, as I write this, remains closed.
I spent some time this morning visiting the website of the Council on American Islamic Relations, looking for an "official" reaction to the incident from this organization, which purports to represent the position of the American Muslim community. You can find there a link under "CAIR in the News" to a video clip of Ibrahim Hooper, the CAIR Communications Director, being interviewed on what appears to be an Islamic program (the interviewer is a young woman wearing a head scarf and dressed in conservative attire).
The interviewer begins by referencing the affair of "...the blasphemous so-called "teddy bear", a choice of words which seems to me to set the tone of the interview from the start, and continues with her asking Mr Hooper for CAIR's comments on Ms Gibbons' pardon and the case in general. Mr Hooper replied that her release was "... a positive development in a very negative case," and that "... unfortunately this case got blown way out of proportion ... (it was) a very minor affair that turned into a major public relations fiasco for the Muslim community worldwide."
The interviewer asks Mr Hooper about the stereotypes perpetrated by news footage of angry Muslims waving swords and demanding Ms Gibbons' death. He responded that "... you can always get a few people to do outrageous things and have it broadcast around the world, so people just need to get a grip and do things that reflect positively on Islam, rather than negatively." When the interviewer asks what CAIR is doing to counteract this negative coverage, Mr Hooper refers to "positive initiatives" such as the link on the CAIR website to an "Explore the Life of the Prophet Mohammed" page which offers books, DVDs, and other information about Islam and the prophet.
Now, it occurs to me that this is a pretty tepid response to a serious incident. Regardless of Mr Hooper's contention that this was a "very minor affair that turned into a major public relations fiasco for the Muslim community," the fact is that a teacher was arrested, charged with "offenses" that could have led to barbaric punishments, and threatened with death by mobs waving swords. I listened to Mr Hooper's comments several times, and did not detect any hint of an apology to Ms Gibbons, any condemnation of the actions of religious fanatics demanding an innocent woman's death, or any acknowledgment that the extreme sensitivity of Muslims to real or perceived slights leads to such incidents.
The reaction of the Muslim community to incidents like these is always the same: that everyone else needs to be more sensitive and to have a better understanding of Islam. I have yet to hear any representative of any Muslim community or organization admit that perhaps Muslims need to be more sensitive to the fact that not everyone in the world worships God in the same way they do. I have yet to hear any representative of any Muslim community or organization encourage Muslims to "get a grip" and be more sensitive to the views and opinions of others. It's always everyone else who is at fault.
If CAIR wants to improve the image of Muslims, it would do better to encourage the members of the Muslim community to be more tolerant of others, and not to be so spring-loaded to violent objection to the least perception of insult.
I try to live by the Golden Rule. It would be nice if the acknowledged leaders of the Muslim community would encourage their followers to do the same, rather than simply to insist on acquiescence of the world to their every whim and demand of belief.
But I'm not holding my breath.
Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.
Bilbo
There is more to this appalling story than these bare bones, of course. It turns out that it was not the students or their parents who complained about the teacher and the teddy bear, but a former employee of the school, who had been fired and was apparently seeking a revenge that would close down the school. This seems to have succeeded, as the school, as I write this, remains closed.
I spent some time this morning visiting the website of the Council on American Islamic Relations, looking for an "official" reaction to the incident from this organization, which purports to represent the position of the American Muslim community. You can find there a link under "CAIR in the News" to a video clip of Ibrahim Hooper, the CAIR Communications Director, being interviewed on what appears to be an Islamic program (the interviewer is a young woman wearing a head scarf and dressed in conservative attire).
The interviewer begins by referencing the affair of "...the blasphemous so-called "teddy bear", a choice of words which seems to me to set the tone of the interview from the start, and continues with her asking Mr Hooper for CAIR's comments on Ms Gibbons' pardon and the case in general. Mr Hooper replied that her release was "... a positive development in a very negative case," and that "... unfortunately this case got blown way out of proportion ... (it was) a very minor affair that turned into a major public relations fiasco for the Muslim community worldwide."
The interviewer asks Mr Hooper about the stereotypes perpetrated by news footage of angry Muslims waving swords and demanding Ms Gibbons' death. He responded that "... you can always get a few people to do outrageous things and have it broadcast around the world, so people just need to get a grip and do things that reflect positively on Islam, rather than negatively." When the interviewer asks what CAIR is doing to counteract this negative coverage, Mr Hooper refers to "positive initiatives" such as the link on the CAIR website to an "Explore the Life of the Prophet Mohammed" page which offers books, DVDs, and other information about Islam and the prophet.
Now, it occurs to me that this is a pretty tepid response to a serious incident. Regardless of Mr Hooper's contention that this was a "very minor affair that turned into a major public relations fiasco for the Muslim community," the fact is that a teacher was arrested, charged with "offenses" that could have led to barbaric punishments, and threatened with death by mobs waving swords. I listened to Mr Hooper's comments several times, and did not detect any hint of an apology to Ms Gibbons, any condemnation of the actions of religious fanatics demanding an innocent woman's death, or any acknowledgment that the extreme sensitivity of Muslims to real or perceived slights leads to such incidents.
The reaction of the Muslim community to incidents like these is always the same: that everyone else needs to be more sensitive and to have a better understanding of Islam. I have yet to hear any representative of any Muslim community or organization admit that perhaps Muslims need to be more sensitive to the fact that not everyone in the world worships God in the same way they do. I have yet to hear any representative of any Muslim community or organization encourage Muslims to "get a grip" and be more sensitive to the views and opinions of others. It's always everyone else who is at fault.
If CAIR wants to improve the image of Muslims, it would do better to encourage the members of the Muslim community to be more tolerant of others, and not to be so spring-loaded to violent objection to the least perception of insult.
I try to live by the Golden Rule. It would be nice if the acknowledged leaders of the Muslim community would encourage their followers to do the same, rather than simply to insist on acquiescence of the world to their every whim and demand of belief.
But I'm not holding my breath.
Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.
Bilbo
Monday, December 03, 2007
Staying in Touch, and a Rant
Yesterday evening I pretty much finished off the Christmas letters that go out to my closest friends along with their Christmas cards. This is a major production.
Each year at this time, the Christmas cards begin to arrive, and probably a third of them will have a photocopied letter enclosed that details all the chatty news of the family for the past year. For the most part, though, I really don't care. I don't need to know that Aunt Tillie broke her hip, or that little Freddie won the "I didn't pick my nose as much" award at pre-school, or that someone took a vacation to sunny Fond du Lac, Wisconsin. While I always enjoy hearing from my friends, that's just more information than I really need or care about.
I think writing letters is a very personal and important thing. If you are going to spend enough time to write a letter to someone, it should be a letter that means something to the recipient, that contains the information you know that the recipient would want to hear and in which they'd be interested. And so each year at this time I write The Letter.
In the summer of 1979, I flew from Germany to Montgomery, Alabama, to attend the Air Force's Squadron Officers' School. As I stood there at the baggage carousel in Montgomery, jet-lagged and confused, I looked up and saw, on the other side of the traveling belt, a young woman my age who smiled and asked, "Are you here for SOS, too?" I think she recognized the haircut.
That lady's name was Toni, and that question began a long-distance friendship that has endured to the present day. The last time I saw Toni was at her wedding in about 1981, but each year at Christmas we exchange long letters that contain all the details of the past year. Toni wants to know everything, and I oblige at great length. This is The Letter, and becomes the baseline for all the other letters I'll send to my closest friends. Through the magic of word processing, The Letter is added to and subtracted from, topics are emphasized or de-emphasized, and pictures are added or deleted, based on what I know each recipient will want to know. That way, each of my friends will get a personalized letter, and I manage to save a lot of time and effort.
This year's Letter is the 28th that I've written to Toni. So far, she keeps writing back. Today, we would probably pass each other on the street without recognizing each other, but we've remained friends through the power of one chatty letter per year. And I like to think that all the other people who will receive variations on The Letter will appreciate the effort to tell them what they want to know, as opposed to sending them a one-size-fits-all letter stuffed into the card as an afterthought.
Letters are important, and writing them is a dying skill in an age of text-messaging, e-mails, and quick "let's do lunch sometime" phone calls. The time invested in writing a letter should lead to the joy involved in reading it. I like to think that my letters are like that.
Okay, now the rant ...
CNN is reporting this morning that the President of Sudan, the wise and gentle Omar el Bashir, has pardoned the British schoolteacher convicted by a Sudanese court of "insulting religion" and "inciting hatred" by allowing her elementary school students to name a teddy bear "Mohammed." Crowds of gentle, compassionate Muslims had demanded her execution, but marginally cooler heads finally seem to have prevailed. According to the CNN story, "The pardon came following efforts by Nazir Ahmed and Sayeeda Warsi, Muslim members of the House of Lords, to persuade the Sudanese government that releasing Gibbons would create international goodwill toward their country."
Yes, I'm sure that the international community is now brimming over with goodwill toward a violent, corrupt, and religiously intolerant government that has murdered hundreds of thousands of people in Darfur and still has enough time available to arrest and charge a schoolteacher with stupid religiously-based crimes. You can look - as I have - at the website of the Council on American-Islamic Relations for a condemnation of this travesty, but all you will find is one op-ed piece by a single American Muslim which offers a lengthy discussion of why the Sudanese government's action was "inappropriate." CAIR itself is far too busy accusing Americans of failing to understand the peaceful and compassionate nature of Islam to spend any time explaining to those same Americans how the condemnation of a gentle schoolteacher demonstrates that nature.
Inquiring minds want to know.
Have a good day. Write a letter to someone you care about. Or to someone to whom you need to give an earful.
More thoughts tomorrow.
Bilbo
Each year at this time, the Christmas cards begin to arrive, and probably a third of them will have a photocopied letter enclosed that details all the chatty news of the family for the past year. For the most part, though, I really don't care. I don't need to know that Aunt Tillie broke her hip, or that little Freddie won the "I didn't pick my nose as much" award at pre-school, or that someone took a vacation to sunny Fond du Lac, Wisconsin. While I always enjoy hearing from my friends, that's just more information than I really need or care about.
I think writing letters is a very personal and important thing. If you are going to spend enough time to write a letter to someone, it should be a letter that means something to the recipient, that contains the information you know that the recipient would want to hear and in which they'd be interested. And so each year at this time I write The Letter.
In the summer of 1979, I flew from Germany to Montgomery, Alabama, to attend the Air Force's Squadron Officers' School. As I stood there at the baggage carousel in Montgomery, jet-lagged and confused, I looked up and saw, on the other side of the traveling belt, a young woman my age who smiled and asked, "Are you here for SOS, too?" I think she recognized the haircut.
That lady's name was Toni, and that question began a long-distance friendship that has endured to the present day. The last time I saw Toni was at her wedding in about 1981, but each year at Christmas we exchange long letters that contain all the details of the past year. Toni wants to know everything, and I oblige at great length. This is The Letter, and becomes the baseline for all the other letters I'll send to my closest friends. Through the magic of word processing, The Letter is added to and subtracted from, topics are emphasized or de-emphasized, and pictures are added or deleted, based on what I know each recipient will want to know. That way, each of my friends will get a personalized letter, and I manage to save a lot of time and effort.
This year's Letter is the 28th that I've written to Toni. So far, she keeps writing back. Today, we would probably pass each other on the street without recognizing each other, but we've remained friends through the power of one chatty letter per year. And I like to think that all the other people who will receive variations on The Letter will appreciate the effort to tell them what they want to know, as opposed to sending them a one-size-fits-all letter stuffed into the card as an afterthought.
Letters are important, and writing them is a dying skill in an age of text-messaging, e-mails, and quick "let's do lunch sometime" phone calls. The time invested in writing a letter should lead to the joy involved in reading it. I like to think that my letters are like that.
Okay, now the rant ...
CNN is reporting this morning that the President of Sudan, the wise and gentle Omar el Bashir, has pardoned the British schoolteacher convicted by a Sudanese court of "insulting religion" and "inciting hatred" by allowing her elementary school students to name a teddy bear "Mohammed." Crowds of gentle, compassionate Muslims had demanded her execution, but marginally cooler heads finally seem to have prevailed. According to the CNN story, "The pardon came following efforts by Nazir Ahmed and Sayeeda Warsi, Muslim members of the House of Lords, to persuade the Sudanese government that releasing Gibbons would create international goodwill toward their country."
Yes, I'm sure that the international community is now brimming over with goodwill toward a violent, corrupt, and religiously intolerant government that has murdered hundreds of thousands of people in Darfur and still has enough time available to arrest and charge a schoolteacher with stupid religiously-based crimes. You can look - as I have - at the website of the Council on American-Islamic Relations for a condemnation of this travesty, but all you will find is one op-ed piece by a single American Muslim which offers a lengthy discussion of why the Sudanese government's action was "inappropriate." CAIR itself is far too busy accusing Americans of failing to understand the peaceful and compassionate nature of Islam to spend any time explaining to those same Americans how the condemnation of a gentle schoolteacher demonstrates that nature.
Inquiring minds want to know.
Have a good day. Write a letter to someone you care about. Or to someone to whom you need to give an earful.
More thoughts tomorrow.
Bilbo
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Inertia
Sunday morning, 5:55, and colder than a mortgage banker's heart outside. I know this because I just got back from taking my four-legged main squeeze for her morning constitutional. Dogs have an advantage in this regard, since they have the built-in fur coat, and so they don't seem to mind taking their own sweet time to sniff every blade of grass and carefully examine each square inch of territory in their diligent search for Just The Right Spot to deposit their excess material. While this is going on, the loud clattering sound you hear in the distance is my teeth chattering. And we haven't gotten below the mid-20's yet...I'll be a basket case when winter really sets in.
But that's neither here nor there. Let's talk about inertia.
As you may know from your high school science classes, inertia is the tendency of a body at rest to remain at rest, and of a body in motion to remain in motion, unless acted on by an external force. In my case, the external force is usually Agnes, gently suggesting that I get off my lazy, wide backside and accomplish some task. I had always thought (silly me) that inertia was the desired weekend state...that state of rest which prepares us for the constant motion of the work week. Well, no. If you're like us, the weekend is that frenetic two-day period into which you frantically try to jam all the things that you couldn't do during the other five days.
Yesterday was laundry and general house cleaning (not too onerous yet, because we're still fairly well cleaned up from the Thanksgiving weekend), but there's still plenty to do: more Christmas decorations to find in the great piles of storage boxes in the garage; mountains of leaves still unraked in the yard; and tonight's dinner uncooked ... but I get ahead of myself.
Before earning that well-deserved dinner (fish of some sort, we've already decided), we need to overcome inertia and spend a few hours at the dance studio practicing our routines. Since I'm too cheap to buy the shoes with the steps already programmed into them, or the special glasses that will let me see the little black footstep diagrams on the floor, I have to depend on practice, which I hate. I love ballroom dancing, and the fact that this former high school Alpha Geek now has women lined up who actually want to dance with him is a tremendous high...but putting in the long hours of practice - even when it means I get to hold Agnes close - can be a drag. For Agnes's part, it's hard for her to overcome the inertia because she has so little free time - working her day job and teaching dance four evenings per week doesn't leave much time for all the other things she'd like to do. So we have to depend on each other to overcome our mutual inertia and get out on the floor. The problem is that we're equally adept at talking each other out of it.
But, for better or worse, we've got to beat inertia and practice today because we have five new International-style routines and a slew of American-style ones that won't learn themselves. I guess we'll just have to keep our eyes on the eventual prize of the adoring crowds as we grit our teeth, assume the correct frame, and do the work.
But it surely would be nice just to spend the day in my chair in front of the fire, reading a good book.
Ah, inertia!
Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.
Bilbo
But that's neither here nor there. Let's talk about inertia.
As you may know from your high school science classes, inertia is the tendency of a body at rest to remain at rest, and of a body in motion to remain in motion, unless acted on by an external force. In my case, the external force is usually Agnes, gently suggesting that I get off my lazy, wide backside and accomplish some task. I had always thought (silly me) that inertia was the desired weekend state...that state of rest which prepares us for the constant motion of the work week. Well, no. If you're like us, the weekend is that frenetic two-day period into which you frantically try to jam all the things that you couldn't do during the other five days.
Yesterday was laundry and general house cleaning (not too onerous yet, because we're still fairly well cleaned up from the Thanksgiving weekend), but there's still plenty to do: more Christmas decorations to find in the great piles of storage boxes in the garage; mountains of leaves still unraked in the yard; and tonight's dinner uncooked ... but I get ahead of myself.
Before earning that well-deserved dinner (fish of some sort, we've already decided), we need to overcome inertia and spend a few hours at the dance studio practicing our routines. Since I'm too cheap to buy the shoes with the steps already programmed into them, or the special glasses that will let me see the little black footstep diagrams on the floor, I have to depend on practice, which I hate. I love ballroom dancing, and the fact that this former high school Alpha Geek now has women lined up who actually want to dance with him is a tremendous high...but putting in the long hours of practice - even when it means I get to hold Agnes close - can be a drag. For Agnes's part, it's hard for her to overcome the inertia because she has so little free time - working her day job and teaching dance four evenings per week doesn't leave much time for all the other things she'd like to do. So we have to depend on each other to overcome our mutual inertia and get out on the floor. The problem is that we're equally adept at talking each other out of it.
But, for better or worse, we've got to beat inertia and practice today because we have five new International-style routines and a slew of American-style ones that won't learn themselves. I guess we'll just have to keep our eyes on the eventual prize of the adoring crowds as we grit our teeth, assume the correct frame, and do the work.
But it surely would be nice just to spend the day in my chair in front of the fire, reading a good book.
Ah, inertia!
Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.
Bilbo
Saturday, December 01, 2007
Saturday Odds and Ends
It's 9:15 on a clear and cold Saturday morning here in Northern Virginia. Agnes is at work, our granddog Punky is keeping sleepy watch near the front door, and I'm putting off starting on the long list of honey-do's that await my attention.
I'd rather blog.
But because I'm partially down for maintenance with a cold and so unable to think as clearly as I might, here are just a few placeholders for future posts:
Yesterday's post on the difference between 1967 and 2007 in how we approach problems netted lots of great comments, including one from zero_zero_one, who wrote, "If there are enough of us out there who know about 'common sense,' how come laws and rules come into place that completely fly in the face of 'common sense?' How can people who set these rules get into positions of authority if their thinking is so contrary to rational thought?" That's a great question, and it's so obvious I can't believe I didn't think of it myself - the people in positions of authority in 2007 grew up in the (apocryphal?) Era of Common Sense, so they (we!) are the ones now making the stupid decisions. What happened? I'm still thinking about it. If anyone else has any ideas, I'd be glad to hear them.
I've had a very nice e-mail exchange with Amanda on the subject of how children learn multiple languages. As you may have read in her blog, she's watching little Aaron absorb English, Chinese, and Indonesian at the same time, and working through the amazement that he can absorb them and keep them straight. As I told her, it's nice to be asked for my opinion on a linguistics-related topic, as people with degrees in Linguistics are as likely to be found waiting tables as responding to questions related to arcane topics in psycholinguistics.
The Christmas Party on board the Enterprise over at Captain Picard's Journal begins on Monday. I sent in my proposed entry a few weeks ago, and am waiting anxiously to see if it makes the cut for inclusion in the week-long series of party posts. Check it out...it ought to be fun!
Well, I guess all this laundry won't wash and fold itself, the vacuum cleaner won't get rid of all the dog hair in the carpet on its own, and the great heaps of leaves in the yard won't magically leap back into the air and reattach themselves to the trees...so I guess I'd better get my pasty white backside into gear and do something before My Very Best Beloved comes home and glares disapprovingly at me.
A fate worse than death.
Have a good day. More thoughts coming.
Bilbo
I'd rather blog.
But because I'm partially down for maintenance with a cold and so unable to think as clearly as I might, here are just a few placeholders for future posts:
Yesterday's post on the difference between 1967 and 2007 in how we approach problems netted lots of great comments, including one from zero_zero_one, who wrote, "If there are enough of us out there who know about 'common sense,' how come laws and rules come into place that completely fly in the face of 'common sense?' How can people who set these rules get into positions of authority if their thinking is so contrary to rational thought?" That's a great question, and it's so obvious I can't believe I didn't think of it myself - the people in positions of authority in 2007 grew up in the (apocryphal?) Era of Common Sense, so they (we!) are the ones now making the stupid decisions. What happened? I'm still thinking about it. If anyone else has any ideas, I'd be glad to hear them.
I've had a very nice e-mail exchange with Amanda on the subject of how children learn multiple languages. As you may have read in her blog, she's watching little Aaron absorb English, Chinese, and Indonesian at the same time, and working through the amazement that he can absorb them and keep them straight. As I told her, it's nice to be asked for my opinion on a linguistics-related topic, as people with degrees in Linguistics are as likely to be found waiting tables as responding to questions related to arcane topics in psycholinguistics.
The Christmas Party on board the Enterprise over at Captain Picard's Journal begins on Monday. I sent in my proposed entry a few weeks ago, and am waiting anxiously to see if it makes the cut for inclusion in the week-long series of party posts. Check it out...it ought to be fun!
Well, I guess all this laundry won't wash and fold itself, the vacuum cleaner won't get rid of all the dog hair in the carpet on its own, and the great heaps of leaves in the yard won't magically leap back into the air and reattach themselves to the trees...so I guess I'd better get my pasty white backside into gear and do something before My Very Best Beloved comes home and glares disapprovingly at me.
A fate worse than death.
Have a good day. More thoughts coming.
Bilbo
Friday, November 30, 2007
Then and Now
A few months back, in a post I called "The Bubble-Wrapped Child," I lamented the great extents to which parents nowadays go to protect their children from real and imagined dangers that parents and children of my generation (and earlier) took for granted as a normal part of the process of growing up.
Related to this is the unfortunate (downright moronic, if you ask me) tendency of many Americans today to go to insanely stupid lengths in reaction to things we once accepted as normal. In many instances, we've become a nation of whiny crybabies, resorting to lawsuits out of greed, sheer laziness, or a lack of willingness to talk problems out with our neighbors. Many people have commented on this trend, which seems to benefit only the lawyers and others who specialize in capitalizing on the stupidity of people who have lost the capacity to think for themselves and suffer from a common sense deficit.
Through the magic of e-mail, one of my co-workers sent me yesterday a marvelous piece which I reproduce here with only minor edits. As another of my friends once said, it's a bit like a clown on fire - kind of funny, but kind of sad at the same time. In 1967, I was a sophomore in high school; today I'm a crusty father and grandfather who really appreciates the differences between then and now, as expressed in these eight scenarios:
1967 vs. 2007
Scenario #1: John goes quail hunting before school, pulls into school parking lot with shotgun in gun rack.
1967 - Vice principal comes over to look at John's shotgun. He goes to his car and gets his shotgun to show John.
2007 - School goes into lockdown, and FBI is called. John is hauled off to jail and never sees his truck or gun again. Counselors called in for traumatized students and teachers.
Scenario #2: John and Bob get into a fistfight after school.
1967 - Crowd gathers. Bob wins. John and Bob shake hands and end up best friends.
2007 - Police called. SWAT team arrives. John and Bob are arrested and charged with assault. Both are expelled even though John started it.
Scenario #3: Bill won't be still in class, disrupts other students.
1967 - Bill sent to office and given a good paddling by the principal. He returns to class, sits still, and does not disrupt class again.
2007 - Bill is diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder and given huge doses of Ritalin. Becomes a zombie. School gets extra money from the State because Bill has a learning disability.
Scenario #4: Scott breaks a window in his neighbor's car and his dad gives him a whipping with his belt.
1967 - Scott is more careful next time, grows up normal, goes to college, and becomes a successful businessman.
2007 - Scott's dad is arrested for child abuse. Scott is placed in foster care and joins a gang. State psychologist convinces Scott's sister that she remembers being abused herself, and their dad goes to prison. Scott's mom has affair with psychologist.
Scenario #5: Mike has a headache and brings some aspirin to school.
1967 - Mike takes aspirin in lunchroom and headache goes away.
2007 - Police called. Mike is expelled from school for drug violations. Car is searched for drugs and weapons.
Scenario #6: Ken fails English in high school.
1967 - Ken goes to summer school, passes English, goes to college.
2007 - Ken's cause is taken up by a wide range of activists. Newspaper articles appear nationally charging that teaching English as a requirement for graduation is racist. ACLU files a class action lawsuit against the state school system and Ken's English teacher. Teacher is fired and English is removed from core curriculum. Ken is given a diploma anyway but ends up mowing lawns for a living because he can’t speak, read, and write English.
Scenario #7: Jeff takes apart leftover firecrackers from 4th of July, puts them in a model airplane paint bottle, and blows up an ant hill.
1967 - Ants die.
2007 - Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, Homeland Security, and FBI called. Jeff is charged with domestic terrorism. The FBI investigates parents; siblings are removed from home; computers are confiscated. Jeff's dad goes on Terror Watch List and is never allowed to fly again. EPA files a lawsuit charging Jeff’s family with killing endangered ants.
Scenario #8: Andy falls while running during recess and scrapes his knee. He is found crying by his teacher who hugs him to comfort him.
1967 - Andy soon feels better and goes on playing.
2007 - Teacher is accused of being a sexual predator, loses her job, and faces three years in state prison. Andy undergoes five years of therapy at school expense.
If you both laughed and cried at these eight scenarios, you understand the Clown on Fire nature of this sad situation. Growing up in the 1950's and 60's, I experienced situations similar, if not identical to all of the above. I attended a Catholic grade school, had plenty of spankings and knuckle-raps from the Nuns, and was never once molested by a priest (all of our priests were real men of God we still admired and respected). I did lots of stupid and dangerous things, and somehow managed to reach successful adulthood without drugs, lawsuits or anything other than the love and support of great parents, the attention of good teachers (nuns and lay people), and the spiritual guidance of a series of fine pastors.
You have to wonder why we can't do the same today.
Have a good day. Practice and encourage common sense. You'll probably find you like it.
More thoughts tomorrow.
Bilbo
Related to this is the unfortunate (downright moronic, if you ask me) tendency of many Americans today to go to insanely stupid lengths in reaction to things we once accepted as normal. In many instances, we've become a nation of whiny crybabies, resorting to lawsuits out of greed, sheer laziness, or a lack of willingness to talk problems out with our neighbors. Many people have commented on this trend, which seems to benefit only the lawyers and others who specialize in capitalizing on the stupidity of people who have lost the capacity to think for themselves and suffer from a common sense deficit.
Through the magic of e-mail, one of my co-workers sent me yesterday a marvelous piece which I reproduce here with only minor edits. As another of my friends once said, it's a bit like a clown on fire - kind of funny, but kind of sad at the same time. In 1967, I was a sophomore in high school; today I'm a crusty father and grandfather who really appreciates the differences between then and now, as expressed in these eight scenarios:
1967 vs. 2007
Scenario #1: John goes quail hunting before school, pulls into school parking lot with shotgun in gun rack.
1967 - Vice principal comes over to look at John's shotgun. He goes to his car and gets his shotgun to show John.
2007 - School goes into lockdown, and FBI is called. John is hauled off to jail and never sees his truck or gun again. Counselors called in for traumatized students and teachers.
Scenario #2: John and Bob get into a fistfight after school.
1967 - Crowd gathers. Bob wins. John and Bob shake hands and end up best friends.
2007 - Police called. SWAT team arrives. John and Bob are arrested and charged with assault. Both are expelled even though John started it.
Scenario #3: Bill won't be still in class, disrupts other students.
1967 - Bill sent to office and given a good paddling by the principal. He returns to class, sits still, and does not disrupt class again.
2007 - Bill is diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder and given huge doses of Ritalin. Becomes a zombie. School gets extra money from the State because Bill has a learning disability.
Scenario #4: Scott breaks a window in his neighbor's car and his dad gives him a whipping with his belt.
1967 - Scott is more careful next time, grows up normal, goes to college, and becomes a successful businessman.
2007 - Scott's dad is arrested for child abuse. Scott is placed in foster care and joins a gang. State psychologist convinces Scott's sister that she remembers being abused herself, and their dad goes to prison. Scott's mom has affair with psychologist.
Scenario #5: Mike has a headache and brings some aspirin to school.
1967 - Mike takes aspirin in lunchroom and headache goes away.
2007 - Police called. Mike is expelled from school for drug violations. Car is searched for drugs and weapons.
Scenario #6: Ken fails English in high school.
1967 - Ken goes to summer school, passes English, goes to college.
2007 - Ken's cause is taken up by a wide range of activists. Newspaper articles appear nationally charging that teaching English as a requirement for graduation is racist. ACLU files a class action lawsuit against the state school system and Ken's English teacher. Teacher is fired and English is removed from core curriculum. Ken is given a diploma anyway but ends up mowing lawns for a living because he can’t speak, read, and write English.
Scenario #7: Jeff takes apart leftover firecrackers from 4th of July, puts them in a model airplane paint bottle, and blows up an ant hill.
1967 - Ants die.
2007 - Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, Homeland Security, and FBI called. Jeff is charged with domestic terrorism. The FBI investigates parents; siblings are removed from home; computers are confiscated. Jeff's dad goes on Terror Watch List and is never allowed to fly again. EPA files a lawsuit charging Jeff’s family with killing endangered ants.
Scenario #8: Andy falls while running during recess and scrapes his knee. He is found crying by his teacher who hugs him to comfort him.
1967 - Andy soon feels better and goes on playing.
2007 - Teacher is accused of being a sexual predator, loses her job, and faces three years in state prison. Andy undergoes five years of therapy at school expense.
If you both laughed and cried at these eight scenarios, you understand the Clown on Fire nature of this sad situation. Growing up in the 1950's and 60's, I experienced situations similar, if not identical to all of the above. I attended a Catholic grade school, had plenty of spankings and knuckle-raps from the Nuns, and was never once molested by a priest (all of our priests were real men of God we still admired and respected). I did lots of stupid and dangerous things, and somehow managed to reach successful adulthood without drugs, lawsuits or anything other than the love and support of great parents, the attention of good teachers (nuns and lay people), and the spiritual guidance of a series of fine pastors.
You have to wonder why we can't do the same today.
Have a good day. Practice and encourage common sense. You'll probably find you like it.
More thoughts tomorrow.
Bilbo
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Thoughts on Teddy Bears and Religious Beliefs
Yesterday was one of those intellectual "perfect storms" that drop a wonderful blogging topic into my lap in more depth than I could ever muster on my own. Let me share these cascading thoughts with you.
The first item was the news report from Sudan (of all garden spots) about a British teacher arrested and facing a potential sentence of prison, a fine, or 40 lashes for "blasphemy" and "insulting religion." Her crime was allowing her students, as part of a lesson on animals and their habitats, to name a teddy bear "Mohammed." Another report indicated that it was one of the students, not the teacher, who suggested the name, but the teacher is being charged nevertheless.
The second item was a blog post on this topic from The Reality-Based Community titled "On the Apparent Fragility of Moslem Faith," in which the author noted that millions of Muslims are named Mohammed, and notes that "Naming an infant Muhammad runs a finite and non-trivial risk of thus naming a criminal or otherwise really bad person, as some kids are always sure to turn out. Aren't these bad apples a lot more dangerous to the reputation of the original than a stuffed bear, especially a stuffed bear a bunch of seven-year-olds were trying to honor?"
The third item was a wonderful post from John Hill at his blog Out of My Hat, titled "Have It Your Way." This post doesn't address the terrible injustice being perpetrated in the Sudan, but it does discuss - in John's clear and compelling fashion - the tendency of people to want to have their religion "their way," to believe that they know and understand the mind of God and are thus justified in taking actions, however terrible, in His name. John writes that, "Unfortunately, there is much done in the name of God, or in the cause of religion that is wrong. We can do what we want, say it is God's will and convince others and ourselves that everything is okay."
Charles Kimball, Professor of Religion at Wake Forest University and a distinguished scholar of comparative religion with specialization in Islamic studies, published a book a few years ago titled When Religion Becomes Evil, in which he postulated five signs that religious belief has been corrupted and turned to evil:
1. Claims of absolute truth;
2. Insistence on blind obedience;
3. Establishing the "Ideal" time;
4. The end justifies any means; and
5. Declaring holy war.
Dr Kimball notes that belief in God and adherence to a particular religion per se are not the issue: the twisting of that belief and adherence to violent and ungodly ends is. We can see this in the warped and deadly versions of Islam which will condemn a teacher for naming a teddy bear, sentence a young woman to jail and flogging for the "crime" of being raped, or churn out hundreds of suicide bombers convinced they are doing God's will.
Take a few minutes and visit Out of My Hat, and read John's post to which I linked above. Then think about how much better the world would be if we could all take this simple and clear-eyed view.
It's a good dream.
Have a good day. Act out the Golden Rule. More thoughts tomorrow.
Bilbo
The first item was the news report from Sudan (of all garden spots) about a British teacher arrested and facing a potential sentence of prison, a fine, or 40 lashes for "blasphemy" and "insulting religion." Her crime was allowing her students, as part of a lesson on animals and their habitats, to name a teddy bear "Mohammed." Another report indicated that it was one of the students, not the teacher, who suggested the name, but the teacher is being charged nevertheless.
The second item was a blog post on this topic from The Reality-Based Community titled "On the Apparent Fragility of Moslem Faith," in which the author noted that millions of Muslims are named Mohammed, and notes that "Naming an infant Muhammad runs a finite and non-trivial risk of thus naming a criminal or otherwise really bad person, as some kids are always sure to turn out. Aren't these bad apples a lot more dangerous to the reputation of the original than a stuffed bear, especially a stuffed bear a bunch of seven-year-olds were trying to honor?"
The third item was a wonderful post from John Hill at his blog Out of My Hat, titled "Have It Your Way." This post doesn't address the terrible injustice being perpetrated in the Sudan, but it does discuss - in John's clear and compelling fashion - the tendency of people to want to have their religion "their way," to believe that they know and understand the mind of God and are thus justified in taking actions, however terrible, in His name. John writes that, "Unfortunately, there is much done in the name of God, or in the cause of religion that is wrong. We can do what we want, say it is God's will and convince others and ourselves that everything is okay."
Charles Kimball, Professor of Religion at Wake Forest University and a distinguished scholar of comparative religion with specialization in Islamic studies, published a book a few years ago titled When Religion Becomes Evil, in which he postulated five signs that religious belief has been corrupted and turned to evil:
1. Claims of absolute truth;
2. Insistence on blind obedience;
3. Establishing the "Ideal" time;
4. The end justifies any means; and
5. Declaring holy war.
Dr Kimball notes that belief in God and adherence to a particular religion per se are not the issue: the twisting of that belief and adherence to violent and ungodly ends is. We can see this in the warped and deadly versions of Islam which will condemn a teacher for naming a teddy bear, sentence a young woman to jail and flogging for the "crime" of being raped, or churn out hundreds of suicide bombers convinced they are doing God's will.
Take a few minutes and visit Out of My Hat, and read John's post to which I linked above. Then think about how much better the world would be if we could all take this simple and clear-eyed view.
It's a good dream.
Have a good day. Act out the Golden Rule. More thoughts tomorrow.
Bilbo
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Helio Castroneves Wins "Dancing with the Stars"
Alas, Season 5 of Dancing with the Stars is over. In a great season finale, Indianapolis 500 racing champion Helio Castroneves edged out "Scary Spice" Melanie Brown for the cheesy mirror ball trophy.
Okay, I know you don't really care about this (particularly if you don't live in the USA or aren't a dancer yourself), but bear with me for a minute. Since Agnes and I are ballroom dancers, we've been avid fans of this show for all five seasons, and followed this season especially closely because of the amazing level of dancing on the part of the "stars." As an amateur and coordinationally-challenged dancer, I really appreciate the level of effort that the participants are putting into their performances, and what it means to be able to reach the finals.
This is why I think it was appropriate for Helio Castroneves to win over Melanie Brown.
Melanie, although not a professional dancer, is an experienced entertainer and singer. Her individual dance performances were, in most cases, technically superior to Helio's, and she worked very hard to get to a well-deserved spot in the finals. Maksim Chmerkovskiy, her professional partner, enjoyed a good working relationship and chemistry with her that added sparkle to the routines he designed, which were often complex and demanding. They danced Mambo and Paso Doble routines that were literally jaw-dropping, and their dancing tended to be much more physical than their competitors.
Helio, on the other hand, is neither a dancer nor an entertainer. What he brought to the competition was a fierce competitive attitude and desire to win, along with a ten-thousand-watt smile and a cheerful personality that endeared him to home audiences and helped smooth over any technical imperfections in his dancing. His professional partner, Julianne Hough (who, incredibly, is only 19 years old!), did a fantastic job of coming up with choreography that was tremendously complex and demanding for a student with no prior dance training, but which was within Helio's capabilities. This is an important point, because (in my humble opinion) a problem on the show in the past has been that some of the professionals have tended toward choreography that showcased their own capabilities, rather than capitalizing on the strengths and capabilities of their students. The Quickstep routine they performed as their last dance was absolutely spectacular.
Both couples took risks with their choices of music, choreography, and style that paid off well for them.
All in all, the result was very satisfying. In a way, I wish both couples could have shared the trophy, because both couples earned it. I also wish that Sabrina Bryan could have made it to the finals - if she hadn't been unexpectedly (and undeservedly) eliminated earlier in the competition, it would have made for an unbearably exciting final.
But then, I wish I could dance with Edyta Sliwinska one time, but that's not likely to happen either.
No deep thoughts for today - just some observations on the end of a season of great dancing and entertainment on Dancing with the Stars. I can't wait for Season 6!
Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.
Bilbo
Okay, I know you don't really care about this (particularly if you don't live in the USA or aren't a dancer yourself), but bear with me for a minute. Since Agnes and I are ballroom dancers, we've been avid fans of this show for all five seasons, and followed this season especially closely because of the amazing level of dancing on the part of the "stars." As an amateur and coordinationally-challenged dancer, I really appreciate the level of effort that the participants are putting into their performances, and what it means to be able to reach the finals.
This is why I think it was appropriate for Helio Castroneves to win over Melanie Brown.
Melanie, although not a professional dancer, is an experienced entertainer and singer. Her individual dance performances were, in most cases, technically superior to Helio's, and she worked very hard to get to a well-deserved spot in the finals. Maksim Chmerkovskiy, her professional partner, enjoyed a good working relationship and chemistry with her that added sparkle to the routines he designed, which were often complex and demanding. They danced Mambo and Paso Doble routines that were literally jaw-dropping, and their dancing tended to be much more physical than their competitors.
Helio, on the other hand, is neither a dancer nor an entertainer. What he brought to the competition was a fierce competitive attitude and desire to win, along with a ten-thousand-watt smile and a cheerful personality that endeared him to home audiences and helped smooth over any technical imperfections in his dancing. His professional partner, Julianne Hough (who, incredibly, is only 19 years old!), did a fantastic job of coming up with choreography that was tremendously complex and demanding for a student with no prior dance training, but which was within Helio's capabilities. This is an important point, because (in my humble opinion) a problem on the show in the past has been that some of the professionals have tended toward choreography that showcased their own capabilities, rather than capitalizing on the strengths and capabilities of their students. The Quickstep routine they performed as their last dance was absolutely spectacular.
Both couples took risks with their choices of music, choreography, and style that paid off well for them.
All in all, the result was very satisfying. In a way, I wish both couples could have shared the trophy, because both couples earned it. I also wish that Sabrina Bryan could have made it to the finals - if she hadn't been unexpectedly (and undeservedly) eliminated earlier in the competition, it would have made for an unbearably exciting final.
But then, I wish I could dance with Edyta Sliwinska one time, but that's not likely to happen either.
No deep thoughts for today - just some observations on the end of a season of great dancing and entertainment on Dancing with the Stars. I can't wait for Season 6!
Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.
Bilbo
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