Chris Hitchens: God Is Not Great!

Author and journalist Christopher Hitchens has, in his 58 years traveled, it seems about everywhere, and has amassed a thorough knowledge of the world today and its history. Of the writers who have recently published works assailing religion including Richard Dawkins (The God Delusion) and Sam Harris (The End of Faith,) Hitchens may be the most literary. Dawkins is an evolutionary biologist and Harris has degreed in philosophy and is working toward a doctorate in neuroscience.

It is not easy to "peg" Hitchens into any particular hole as it were. While he is an avowed atheist he is not clearly a political liberal. He opposes the Bush administration's fundamentalist leanings but supports the US incursion into Iraq. Hitchens has elucidated his hatred for what he calls "fascism with an Islamic face" but harbours a visceral dislike of Bill Clinton owing to what Hitchens believes were a number of glaring failures during Clinton's tenure in the White House, not to mention character flaws in Clinton, the man.

In God is not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything Hitchens has put together an intelligent and methodical dismantling of religion.

He opens with the story of a childhood teacher, a Mrs. Jean Watts, who inadvertantly brought Hitchens' own belief to a crashing halt by first exalting nature as God's great creation saying "So you see, children, how powerful and generous God is. He has made all the trees and grass to be green, which is exactly the color that is most restful to our eyes." But then, much to young Hitchens' consternation she continues, "Imagine if instead, the vegetation was all purple, or orange, how awful that would be." At age nine, Christopher Hitchens knew that his teacher had "managed to get everything wrong in just two sentences. The eyes were adjusted to nature, not the other way around."

This seemingly minor event sent Hitchens onto a life long journey of revelation regarding all things religious. As he matured, he found many things regarding the existence and nature of God just didn't ring true.
He wondered "Why, if god was the creator of all things, were we supposed to "praise" him so incessantly for doing what came naturally? ... If Jesus could heal a blind person he happened to meet, then why not heal blindness? ... With all this continual prayer, why no result?

When Hitchens was thirteen, the headmaster of his school stated during a "no nonesense talk" with Hitchens and some fellow students "You may not see the point of all this faith now,...but you will one day, when you start to lose loved ones." At this Hitchens was indignant. "Why, that would be as much as saying that religion might not be true, but never mind that, since it can be relied upon for comfort. How contemptible."

At length Hitchens arrived at : "...four irreducible objections to religious faith: that it wholly misrepresents the origins of man and the cosmos, that because of this original error it manages to combine the maximum of servility with the maximum of solipsism, that it is both the result and the cause of dangerous sexual repression, and that it is ultimately grounded on wish-thinking."

From these assertions, Hitchens sets out to illucidate just how "religion poisons everything. "In Chapter 2 entitled 'Religion Kills,' he reminds us of the deadly history of religion, from monstrous biblical genocides to mass graves in Bosnia. He recounts religious inspired horrors from Belfast to Beirut, Belgrade to Bethlehem. And, oh yes, Baghdad. Hitchens chose to limit his illustrations to some of the "Bs." Obviously, he could have continued ad nauseam through the alphabet.

He sets off on this tour of religion's murderous past with a query: Why does [a belief in god] not make its adherents happy?" Why, indeed! He asserts that religion..."cannot be content with its own marvelous claims and sublime assurances. It must (Hitchen's italics) seek to interfere with the lives of nonbelievers, or heretics, or adherents of other faiths." This interference more often than not leads to catastrophic destruction and mass murder all in the name, and for the glory of a god.

Moving on, Hitchens touches on religion's ever and ongoing war with science and technology, and its resistance to change in general, the false claims of religious metaphysics, the ludicrous arguments for "intelligent design."

He takes on the Christian bible, first the Old Testament - filled with the rage of a jealous god and his murderous vengeance - a read not for the faint of heart, and then the New Testament which he characterizes as a mostly discordant and contradictory mish-mash of altered or non-history noting that virtually all of it was written well after the supposed life of Jesus.

The Koran, Hitchens describes as an even greater mish-mash of borrowed anecdotes and commentaries. Islam, Hitchens claims, "builds upon its primitive Jewish and Christian predecessors, selecting a chunk here and a shard there... a rather obvious and ill-arranged set of plagiarisms, helping itself from earlier books and traditions as occasion appeared to require." He goes on to say that Islam "makes immense claims for itself, invokes prostrate submission... as a maxim to its adherents, and demands deference and respect from nonbelievers into the bargain. There is nothing - absoulutely nothing - in its teachings that can even begin to justify such arrogance and presumption."

Eastern traditions do not escape Hitchens' scrutiny. Many would be surprised to hear of Hindu suicide bombers and militant Buddhist death squads in Sri Lanka.

He examines religion as a source of child abuse citing genital mutilitation in the form of male circumcision, the excision of female labia and clitoris, and sexual abuse of alter boys by Catholic priests.

Hitchens takes a look at failed secular societies, namely Nazi Germany and Stalinist Russia. The focus here is how, in both cases, religion, per se, was replaced by nationalism, pointing out, though that in neither case was traditional religion completely eradicated. It is interesting as Hitchens notes that the first diplomatic accord made by Hitler after his rise to power in 1933 was a treaty with the Vatican.

Chapter 18, 'A Finer Tradition: The Resistance of the Rational' studies religious tradition's history of locking horns with rational thought from the likes of Socrates to Spinoza, David Hume to Thomas Paine, Immanuel Kant to Albert Einstein down to Lenny Bruce, Saul Bellow and Joseph Heller.

In conclusion, Hitchens calls for a "renewed enlightenment" to counter the dangerous and stultifying effects of religion; how acceptance of religious dogma deadens curiosity and thought, that to "choose dogma and faith over doubt and experiment is to throw out the ripening vintage and to reach greedily for the Kool-Aid."

He cites the dangers posed by religious radicals owing to their desire for ultimate conflagration, pointing out that Iran represents "a version of the Inquisition ... about to lay hands on a nuclear weapon," that we are nearing the "moment when apocalyptic nihilists coincide[d] with Armageddon weaponry." stressing how imperative it is to recognize the reality and nature of this threat and to counter it however possible.

"We have first to transcend our prehistory, and escape the gnarled hands which reach out to drag us back to the catacombs and the reeking alters and the guilty pleasures of subjection and abjection ... it has become necessary to know the enemy, and to prepare to fight it."

A Little of This and a Little of That

Jerry Falwell bought the farm today. I have never liked the man even given the distance from which I knew him. I certainly did not wish for his death. Oddly, Falwell and many of his followers perhaps did, in the belief that he would be passing onto the great beyond for eternity. No one in his circle should be sad. Perhaps he is finding the void blissful.

A note regarding my old atheist friend-turned minister, Dain: He did in fact answer my email. Briefly. He informed me that it had been a crazy week (just prior to Easter,) and that he would get back to me when things settled down. He hasn't contacted me further. Unless he initiates further contact, I will let it be. I won't force the issue. I suppose now, my interest is reduced to simple curiosity about the other two of their trio, Jane & Carmen - what has happened to them over these years. (Dain and Jane are no longer together.) But, as I said, it is little more than personal curiosity. I don't know that Dain and I have much to say to each other. Maybe, maybe not. We'll see. Or not.

I need to get back to the phone. Gotta keep trying to call in my vote for the next American Idol. (My personal favorite is Melinda.)

TLS

Save the cheerleader...

Good bye to Tom Poston

I heard earlier today of Tom Poston's death. He was 85. Who? I suppose some of you younger folks have no idea who Tom Poston was.

Tom Poston has been on the boob tube on and off since 1950 and as recently as last year. My first notice of him came as a "man on the street" on the Steve Allen Show. He was the sleepy, dim witted one. Other "men on the street" were Louie Nye as Gordon Hathaway, the smarmy used car salesman type wearing the full Cleveland, the perennially terrified Don Knotts, Dayton Allen (not related to Steve) always answering questions with an index finger pointed skyward, and his mouth twisting into his extended Whyyyy Not? As I recall, Bill Dana as Jose Jiminez came a bit later. There were others, but the above were the first. Now, all but Dana are dead including Steve Allen.

After the Allen show Poston made appearances in any number of series and other shows over several years. He came back in rare form as the maintenance man at the Vermont inn on Newhart. His deadpan humor was often dead on with Newhart as the foil. He was just a funny man.

My father rebuilt the closet space in the bedroom of my brother and I back in the mid '50s which included a recess for a small TV. My brother and I used to watch the Allen show on Saturday nights lying in our beds. We loved it. Steve Allen's yelling "Smock, smock!!, and his falsetto laugh were hilarious and the laugh infectious. It could be set off at a whim. At times he couldn't stop. The "man on the street" bit was the best part of the show and Allen would enjoy it as much as we did. Our parents thought the show was nuts.

I often think of all those guys, now gone. Poston may have been the best, and certainly was the most enduring of all of them. I'll really miss seeing him on the idiot box.

TLS

The "perks" of being a christian

Most, if not all states in this country (that being the US of A) have long offered what are referred to as "vanity" auto license plates on which purchasers can request the plate's "number" be a particular word,short phrase or some other combination of letters and numbers significant of something or other as long as the message is not obscene or considered to be otherwise offensive. These messages are usually limited to no more than 7 digits or letters. Now, many states offer "specialty" plates that promote a wide variety of things such as state colleges & universities, cancer research, sports teams, arts organizations, the environment and so on. Normally, a portion of the collected fee goes toward the benefit of the respective organization, cause, etc.

Recently, here in good old Indiana Woody Burton, a state legislator led a successful effort to make available a plate with the legend "In God We Trust" stamped upon it. They were made available a few months ago and have proven to be wildly popular here in the bible belt. While I find them somewhat offensive, I thought - What the hell? Who gives a crap. It wasn't a battle worth fighting. I knew that to actively oppose the plate would lead to the inevitable charge that, if I am so offended by the phrase, I should stop carrying and using US currency upon which the odious phrase has long been emblazoned. (Actually, I don't use cash much any longer owing to the ability to use debit cards pretty much everywhere.) But, at any rate, I thought - Let it be.

However, an enterprising fellow in Allen County, Indiana, one Mark Studler persuaded the ICLU (Indiana's version of the national ACLU) to file suit on his behalf against the state as regards these very plates. The legal issue at hand is not the plate per se, but the fact that they have been made available to anyone wanting them at no additional charge while all other specialty plates sold in Indiana have an additional $15 administrative fee tacked onto them. It is this fellow's and the ICLU's contention that either all specialty plates be charged the fee, or none of them should be so charged. I must agree.

What would come as a surprise to no one, the Indiana State Legislature is largely made up of devout, protestant christians who were either enthusiastic promoters of the plate, or if they had any misgivings, did not dare voice them so as not to offend the tender sensibilities of their properly righteous fellow lawmakers or their like minded constituents.

While given the bigger picture, this is pretty small potatoes, lest we forget Fascism started out as relatively small spuds as well. If we don't fight them in the trenches, we've got no chance when they lock down the Federal government and force all of us to have "In God We Trust" tatooed onto our foreheads.

TLS

I have always been a stiff.

I've never been comfortable in my own body. I am plagued with tight joints. I don't bend quite like most people. When I was a kid, sitting on the floor was a challenge. It still is, but now, thankfully, I rarely find the need to do so. What with my arthritic knees, if getting down there is difficult, getting back up is an utter bitch. Yoga practitioners sitting in full lotus is not something I can relate to.

A bit of personal history, if you please.

In grade school all of us little rug rats are occasionally summoned to the gym-slash-auditorium for one kind of program or other. We plop ourselves down on the hardwood gym floor in tight little rows. Most of the kids arrange themselves comfortably, usually with legs crossed, backs straight, knees touching or nearly touching the floor, often not significantly altering their position during the entire festivity.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting with my knees pointed in the air at about a forty-five degree angle, my hands splayed on the floor behind my butt, elbows locked to keep from rolling over backwards winding up with my head in some kid's lap, or alternately wrapping my arms around my knees, hands clenched together in an effort to forestall the same horrific result. I continually alter my position back and forth, then ultimately into the limited number of other configurations possible in my little space as my sitz bones painfully dig into the wood floor, my arms and hands aching or going to sleep. Occasionally my buns itch. How do I deal with that? There is no one position I can stay in for more than a few minutes. The longer the program drags on, the more pained and uncomfortable I get. The break in the day to day routine for these assemblies is always welcome, but the discomfort I almost invariably experience soon has me longing for the relative comfort of my desk and chair back in the classroom.

The vision of people bending their joints to ludricrous extremes in all directions makes me physically ill. I simply can't fathom how such contortions are even remotely possible. My condition is apparently hereditary. My older brother has never been able to bend over straight legged and touch his toes. Now, in his mid-sixties, just putting on his socks is a major struggle. A lady friend of his finds watching him in this effort hilariously entertaining. As for me, my left sock remains doable, but my right one is getting to be a bit of a chore.

Of course, my joint problem was perhaps the first and just one of many personal idiosyncracies which lent themselves to fostering my social nerddom. I've never been quite able to enter the sphere of "cool." I wasn't really fat as a kid, nor was I ever accused of being svelt. I was just kind of amorphous. I was always a little slow in phys ed. I liked playing sports, but was never adept at them. I wasn't awful, I just wasn't very good. I was usually one of the first 3 or 4 kids who got creamed in dodgeball. I couldn't hit a pitch or catch a fly as well as most. I couldn't dribble a basketball with any particular agility, nor shoot, nor pull down a rebound on par with the rest. And football? Forget it. Too small, too slow, too ham handed, too chicken.

I was, for the most part a sub-standard and unattentive student. I spent a great deal of class time staring out the window with little awareness of what was going on within. I wriggled in my seat a lot, again uncomfortable in my body. I don't think I was dyslexic or anything. I just didn't find the 3 Rs as interesting as, well, almost everything else.

I have, however developed into a pretty adept eater as my girth will attend. I would never respond like characters on the tube or in flicks who always refuse food and drink when offered:

"Come in officer. Would you like some Ovaltine, or perhaps a ham sandwich?"

"No, none for me, thanks. There's no time. We need to discuss that box of hand grenades you have there by the window, Mrs. Gribble. There have been complaints."

"Oh, well then, how about a nice cup of Jello instant pudding?"

I suppose I'd be nervous about the grenades, but it's rare that I'd turn down a good ham sandwich, on rye, with mustard and mayo. And I've always been a sucker for pudding, especially chocolate, and Ovaltine too. I can deal with those pesky grenades in good time.

But, of course, eating is out of vogue - especially the kinds of comfort food I grew up with. Gosh help me, I like fat. Fat is what gives food flavor. I used to eat whipped cream on white bread, for crap sakes. I love sugar. I hate diet soda. I am, as always, out of sync with the world.

Ah, me. "Say, would you mind passing the salt?"

TLS

Bang! You're Dead.

It's really quite simple, isn't it? Aim. Squeeze. Pop! Someone's dead. How great is that? You walk into a room. You're the only one with a gun. You can call all the shots. Literally. You become the 900 pound gorilla. You can do whatever the hell you want. You can make everyone else do whatever you want them to do. You can kill them. Some of them. All of them. Pop! Pop! Pop!

You dream about having that power, even if only for a short time. It needn't take long. Just thinking about it is intoxicating. It makes you hard. Hard as blue steel. You could penetrate a post. And it's so bloody simple. Pop! You revel in anticipation. You see the incredulity, then terror, panic. The mad scramble for safety. You love it. Total control. This one lives. That one dies. Pop! You get goose bumps. They're all grovelling assholes. You are the King. You needn't say a word. The gun says it all. Pop!

You'll probably die from the muzzle of another gun, but that's okay. That's the glory, isn't it? That's the moment of reckoning. Add up the score.

Monday it was 32 to 1. You could even say 33 to zip since he offed himself. How sweet, no? "Made it, ma. Top of the world." Pop!

TLS

Things do change

My blog world has gotten smaller. A couple of the sites I used to visit with some regularity have closed up shop recently. Some others have gone off on their own tangents that no longer strike a nerve with me. Over the past several months I have read and commented on posts at other sites with little or no acknowledgement. Consequently, I don't visit other blogs very often now.

I guess the biggest disappointment for me is that I have never really been able to conjure up any consistent discussion or debate here. No doubt the fault lies with me. I tend to meander around with a variety of topics on which I choose to post. While the central purpose of this site was, and remains atheism and problems I have with religion, I often go well beyond that core of commentary. I assume that has the effect of dissipating my audience which even at best has always been sparse. In other words, my work just doesn't strike a nerve or otherwise resonate with many readers. I'm apparently off in my own little world.

I have contributed a number of articles to Blog Critics Magazine over the last few months. Most were posts I'd first published here and, usually with some alterations transposed them to BC. A particular article I published there garnered nearly 400 comments. However, as I believe I noted here earlier, only a relatively small percentage of them were even remotely related to the subject at hand. I publish at a couple of other sites as well.

In the foreseeable future, I will likely not post here so often. Even after more than a year, my efforts here have been largely for naught. I don't know what I expected - delusions of grandeur, no doubt. As I sat down to begin this post, I really had no idea what I was going to write. I suppose it shows. What would you call it - blogger's block? I went through this same kind of thing a few months ago and even stated that I was going to close up shop myself. I won't say that again, but now, if spring ever actually decides to settle in, I expect to have a great deal more to do than sit here tapping out what usually amounts to meaningless nonsense. I suppose, though that I will plop down in my rather creaky chair from time to time if the spirit moves me and plunk something out (god willing, of course.) But in the mean time, my herb garden awaits!

TLS

Hash and Rehash

Some additional thoughts regarding constitutional amendments against same sex unions.

Gays are not, for the most part exceptional people. They are, by pretty much any measure, similar to most people excepting one aspect: Their sexual orientation. Otherwise, lesbians and gays go to school, work at jobs, own property, are active in their communities, are church members, vote, pay their bills, AND pay taxes. Just like most everybody else. Yet they are faced with the prospect of being singled out and their rights curtailed by the same government to which they pay those taxes, a government which should be affording them as citizens the same rights and protections to which other citizens are entitled.

Our system is based on the premise of majority rule, you may say. That is true. But that stops short of the rest of that thought which states, "but protecting the rights of the minority." In this case the minority is being wholly ignored. Their lives are being in effect disenfranchised simply because one group of people disapproves of the lifestyle of another.

Enacting such laws, making them a part of various state or the federal constitution is a step back into far less enlightened times. It conjures memories of "Jim Crow," and "separate but equal," even prohibition. All such former laws and/or amendments proved to be prejudicial, promulgating racism or, as in the case of prohibition, unenforcable. All required untold time, effort, money and other resources to repeal. All such waste could have been avoided had people simply been honest, fair, and used even a modicum of common sense.

The assumption that same sex unions are immoral or "an abomination" is based solely on biblical scripture. It never occurs to true believers that the bible could, in fact be wrong, or that people who don't adhere to scripture as others do should not be forced to do so by law. In any case, it should not, in this day and age, or any day and age for that matter, be the business of government to bully its way into our relationships or our bedrooms. I've been reminded that government has done so in the past, that there is precident. That doesn't make it right, though does it? Up until fairly recently many states still carried laws on their books outlawing inter-racial marriage. As far as I know, most of those laws are either history, or if still in print, are no longer enforced (at least I would hope not.)

On another note:

Iraq. We are faced with an untenable situation there. Bush still believes that we can, and that we are, winning in Iraq. I often wonder if he is actually following the same war that the rest of us are. The Dems are pushing to either force the adoption of a withdrawal date, or to cut military funding for Iraq altogether. Reps claim that to cut off funds would leave our troops high and dry, which is nonsense. A recent Doonesbury strip made note that cutting off funding would not have the effect of leaving American soldiers stranded in Iraq fending for themselves. It would simply mean that their mission would necessarily end, and they would be brought home and out of harm's way. The Reps would have you believe otherwise.

The majority of Americans want our troops brought home. Only a relative few die hards believe there is anything yet to be gained by our continued military presence in Iraq. There is a conundrum, though. It is likely true that, if our military suddenly just pulled up their pants and came home, utter chaos would likely ensue. Of course it can be said that that is what's going on now. I imagine it could get a lot worse.

We also have Bush and his posse telling the Iraqis that they must begin to step in and take the reigns; that they must start taking responsibility for their own welfare. But remember, we were the provocateurs. We were the proverbial bull in the china shop.

Let's say the older brother goes into his younger brother's room and proceeds to make a huge mess, pulling out toys all over the floor, knocking over furniture, spilling drinks and food on the carpet, and then as he walks out turns and tells his younger sibling that he'd better get all the mess cleaned up, that it's his room,and therefore, his responsibility.

All of this and more simply screams at the idiocy of our ever having entered Iraq in the first place. It is the Iraq invasion and war which I believe should get GW impeached. Of course I know it will never happen. The votes just aren't there. That didn't stop the Reps from impeaching Clinton, though did it ?

While I certainly don't condone Clinton's Oval Office shenanigans, I still don't believe that his actions met the criteria for impeachment. But, no matter. Here again, we spent how many millions of dollars, how much time, man hours, effort and resources in the failed effort to force Willy out of the White House? Had a political leader been caught in a similar situation in most European countries, it would have been an embarrassment, there would have been a lot of snickering, the tabloids would have had a field day for a time, but it would likely have been quickly forgotten. Not here. We simply won't let go of our puritanical roots. We must punish such transgressions to the hilt, hold guilty feet to the fire.

Bush, on the other hand, got us into a pre-emptive war for crap sake! He is ultimately responsible for the deaths of over 3000 American men and women and untold Iraqis among others, and all under false pretenses. If that doesn't meet a standard for impeachment, I don't know what does. Misleading the public and being totally inept should be cause for removal from office, shouldn't it?

TLS

Gay Marriage

The self-righteous knuckle draggers in the Indiana State Legislature are at it again. They are wholly focussed on getting a state constitutional amendment passed outlawing gay/lesbian unions. They are obsessed with the one man-one woman thing. The bible thumpers rage on about the "sanctity of marriage" and how allowing the abomination of gay coupling free reign will undermine the moral fiber of our great, god fearing nation.

What a load of crap! These are by and large the same group of elected officials who spent uncounted hours a year or so ago while in session arguing in outrage against a heathen judge who ruled that they were not to utter prayers on state property that promulgated any specific religion, say, christianity. [Let's not hear any of that "in jesus' name" stuff.] Pretty much nothing got done in that particular session except ad nauseum bitching about not being able to evoke jesus name in prayer. Although, their getting nothing done is pretty much par for the course.

The sanctity of marriage, huh? A union which can be entered into while drunk on your ass in Las Vegas at 3AM at drive-thru nuptuals in a service performed by an Elvis impersonator is certainly something about which to be sanctimonious. How sacred is a union that ends in dissolution more than 50% of the time? Isn't divorce a threat to the sanctity of marriage? Isn't adultery? Adulterers, according to Leviticus 20:10, should be "put to death." How can pious christians remain mute about adultery, which not only involves out of wedlock fornication, but which also implies betrayal, obfuscation and deceit, while in the same breath demand a constitutional amendment against same sex unions? READ YOUR DAMN BIBLES! How is the sin of adultery any less heinous? Could it be that far too many of these hypocrites have been wetting their dip sticks in forbidden fruit as it were? (How's that for a mixed metaphor?) Do they tell themselves that, well, since they've prayed for forgiveness, that it's okeedokee? That they get a pass?

How is it that supposed "literal" christians can rationalize how they pick and choose what portions of the bible to revere and what they are free to ignore? Isn't the bible "inerrant." Isn't it all absolute historical truth? Isn't every word to be strictly obeyed? Who gives anyone the right to be selective? Shouldn't all devout christians who own up to their shortcomings, their lies, their deceits, their lusts immediatly run out and impale themselves on the nearest church spire?

It is so tiresome to hear these lame assed Neanderthalic legislators prattling on about marital sanctity. There is not one member of either Indiana house who has the guts to stand up and attack this proposed amendment directly on its merits. The few voices raised against it have spoken of how it might hurt business. Business for christ's sake! Large employers in the state including Eli Lilly, Wellpoint Insurance and Cummins Engine, among others are concerned regarding how such an amendment might adverselyaffect their recruiting efforts and the application of certain company benefits that currently are made available to employees in same sex relationships. Others raised concerns about the status of men and women who may co-habitate, but are not married, and how it might affect divorced couples. That's great.

But not one of those gutless bastards will even come close to dealing with the true issue at hand: The right of two people to form a legally recognized bond regardless of gender. I am acquainted with a few same sex couples. One of those couples has a 9 or 10 year old daughter. If passed, this amendment could possibly negate their parental rights. Should it become law, the government could perhaps snatch the girl right out of their house, no questions asked. (That'd show them peter puffin' faggots, by god!)

Again, I say that if you are going to outlaw same sex unions, you should also outlaw adultery, divorce and, yes, the loathsome and utterly disgusting intermingling of linen and wool (Leviticus 19:19.) Oh, the humanity!

"Ho, ho, ho" you good christians say. God was just a joshin' about that linen/wool thingy. Bullshit! If gays are an abomination, so too are all godless minglers who keep forbidden linsey-woolsey boxers squirreled away in their chests of drawers, perhaps hidden under their cotton/polyester blend Fruit of the Looms. You all shall be eternally damned to hell, I say, you mongrel garment wearers, you! Fie, I say! Fie on thee! The Minglers Bureau will root you out! (Hey, Budreau, they nabbed some o them minglers! Fill up yer pockets with some good throwin' rocks and hot foot it over't the fair grounds. It's stonin' time agin! Yeehaw!)

In the end, this amendment is not about marriage or its sanctity. It is about hate. It is an abuse of power.

TLS

Hey Kids! What season is it?

It's Spring, by golly! This is my forsythia. I haven't trimmed it back for nearly 10 years. It is one bush which is nearly 20 feet in diameter. This is the first time it has bloomed this gloriously for 4 or 5 years. Usually it gets frozen out before it fully blooms. It fairly glows in the midday sun. It's one big bush, no? I suppose there are bigger ones out there, but I haven't seen one yet.

Woohoo!

TLS

Just Not Feeling Good

It is, I suppose, not surprising that one's perspective regarding day to day life changes after discovering that you have a serious health problem. As I've related in earlier posts, I was told after testing that I have a blockage in one of my cardiac arteries. I am "managing" it with a beta blocker.

Up until this diagnosis I had always been more or less healthy. Not fit mind you, but healthy. That is, I had never been found to have anything life threatening or debilitating (except for my arthritic knees.) To date, I have never spent a night in a hospital except presumably at birth.

I had a number of the usual childhood illnesses - measles, mumps, various flus, colds and so on. I did my share of heaving chunks during my youth. But otherwise, I've lead a fairly charmed existence healthwise. Until now.

The doctor assured me that my situation was far from dire, that while significant, it could be much worse.

Still, one's perspective changes. Now I am hyper-sensitive to every little twitch, every little ache or pain, every flutter of my now suspect heart. While I am told that it is likely a side effect of the medicine, I now find that I tire easily. I oft times hit a wall of utter exhaustion at least once and sometimes twice almost every day. I can't wait to lie down, to zone out. For years I have taken short naps, usually sometime in the mid-afternoon - a benefit of working from a home office (kinda hard to do that in a cubicle.) But often I did so as much out of habit as out of a real need to rest. I have just thought of them as my daily meditations.

Now, the naps are generally longer and seem at least, more necessary. What I don't know at this juncture is just how much of my reaction is physical and how much mental or emotional. More often now I find myself thinking about things that I will likely never do. The future seems less definitive. I know that I could still rival my mother in longevity. She passed at 92. But I am also mindful that my eldest brother died at my age, 60; of a heart attack. That pretty much sucks. ( I wonder, if I wind up in a grave, or in an urn, if I could have something to that effect chiseled or etched on the surface. "This pretty much sucks." That might be good.)

I know in my initial post about this turn of events, I was all blustery. I was shook up, but the reality of it hadn't begun to sink in. I said then that I didn't feel any different, and I didn't. But now, I do. I presume that at least some depression is a natural response to one's initial tete-a-tete with mortality. I'm probably guilty of indulging myself too much. I've tried to avoid sitting on the pity pot. Perhaps that's what I'm doing here.

By current standards, sixty years is not a long life. Hell, the average life span in the US is something like 75 years. I recall some years ago it was announced that the average life span of an American male was around 72 years, while that of the average American female was 78 years. Some comedian taking note of that distinction announced his intention upon hitting 71 was to get a sex change operation. Good thinking.

I'm certainly not ready to cash in. I hope to see both of my sons get themselves established in life and take some pleasure in their accomplishments. I hope to get to a point wherein I will be able to hang up my clip board and tape measure and just live day to day without the concern for making a livelihood, and to be able to do that in relatively good health. But who knows? While I give no credence to any god, there are still things we just can't control. They ain't none of us gonna live forever, at least not yet.

TLS

You Can't Go Back. You Just Can't Go Back.

The old saying, "You can't go home again" was brought to bear for me earlier this evening. The results of browsing can rise up and bite you in the butt, if you're not careful.

I went on-line searching for an old acquaintance. Actually, I had searched for him a couple of times over the past few years to no avail, but this time I hit pay dirt.

Back in the late 1960s I worked for (the now defunct) Trans World Airlines at the Indianapolis Airport. A fellow TWAer suggested I go with him to see a vocal trio that was playing the lounge at a nearby hotel. A nite or two later we did.

The trio consisted of one guy I'll call Dain and two girls I'll refer to as Jane and let's say Carmen, yeah, Carmen is good. (Obviously, those aren't their real names. I'd rather not go plowing willy-nilly into their lives.) Jane and Dain were married, uh, to each other. The trio was good. They sang covers of current popular songs - old standards, a little jazz, a little rock & roll. Jane played piano and Carmen sometimes played guitar. They all three sang well individually and had a good harmonic blend when singing together. I believe Jane, who was classically trained, created most of their arrangements.

Over the course of the next several weeks I went to the hotel lounge several times and began hanging out with them after their final sets. Dain and I became friends. To understand our relationship, suffice it to say that Dain was very much an "A" type personality while I was then and remain a "B" kind of guy. Dain was dynamic, pretty much always the mover and shaker of whatever was going on. He ran the show. We followed and fed off of him. Was I a sycophant? I prefer to think not, but I was certainly caught up in his aura.

Dain, Jane and Carmen had been students at a fundamentalist college out here in the midwest where I believe they met. Not surprisingly, Dain had been well on his way to becoming an evangelist minister. But somewhere along the line Dain, and I would assume with Jane and Carmen following his lead, became disillusioned by their studies and religion in general, and together they left school and their religious lives behind them. All claimed to no longer believe in god. In so doing, Dain related that his father had essentially disowned him. Jane's parents though less harsh, still were mightily troubled by their daughter's rejection of the church. I don't recall hearing how Carmen's parents weighed in on all this.

Shortly thereafter the three of them pooled their musical talents, formed their little trio and began playing clubs in the midwest. Somewhere along the line Dain determined that his new found goal was to become an actor, and the only place to do that was New York City. After several months the three of them pulled up stakes and moved to the Big Apple. I followed along a few weeks later.

I was a pretty malleable pudgy hunk of clay back then. I quit my job at TWA, drove east dragging a U-Haul trailer loaded with my junk and moved in with the three of them at the Seville Hotel at 29th and Madison where we lived for several months. To be kind, the Seville had seen better days but was relatively cheap, at least by New York standards. Dain enrolled in acting classes at HB Studios, a professional theatrical school run by Herbert Berghoff and his wife, Uta Hagan, both well established broadway actors. Subsequently I too enrolled at HB and quickly became hooked. The atmosphere at HB was intoxicating, especially to a midwestern hick like myself. Suffice it to say that I proved to be no threat to anyone's theatrical career. But Dain seemed to be on the fast track. He managed to get into Berghoff's class from the get go.

I won't go into all the gory details, but as time went on things deteriorated between all of us and ultimately we drifted apart. Dain had a brief affair with Carmen. Jane discovered it. Dain and Jane split only to later reconcile. Carmen began seeing a fellow who was a heroin addict and soon, may have become one herself, although I am not certain of that. She and I shared an apartment for several months and she was at times chatty about this and that. She did tell me she had done some heroin but was not addicted. I'm not sure if you can "sample" that stuff and just walk away.

Just to do the confessional thingy, I smoked some grass, dropped some acid and mescaline a few times over the course of my stay in New York, but I never got involved with anything heavier. As I noted in an earlier post, I haven't imbibed anything of a dubious legal nature over the last 30 years or so, other than repeated heavy doses of trans fats. The LDL swat team is surrounding the house even as I type.

Carmen decided that it was up to her to intervene on behalf of her boyfriend by moving both of them back to her family home in Illinois in the notion that she would be able to get the two of them "straight." In what was perhaps the most surreal scene I have ever witnessed Carmen's middle aged, midwestern, fundamentalist parents came to New York to assist with the move. Mom and Dad rented a truck and began loading Carmen's worldly goods onto it. Carmen and a girl friend of hers decided the best way to handle all of this was to drop acid making pretty much the whole job of loading a truck the most hilarious and alternately the saddest thing they'd ever done. Of course, her parents were clueless. During all of this Carmen's boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps being a lifelong New Yorker, he was contemplating life in the heartland with some trepidation. I guess he showed up sometime or other, I don't remember.

Meanwhile I was trying to find a place or places to take my meager belongings. I was forced to give up the apartment as the rent was too high for me alone. So I moved back into the glorious Seville; just me and my little Dachshund, Doodle. Yeah, Doodle. Want to make something of it?!!

By late the following summer Carmen was long gone. Dain was doing summer stock in Massachusetts, if memory serves. I don't recall what Jane was doing at that point working somewhere, I presume, paying rent. In the meantime I had fallen rather too hard for a girl from Massapequa Park, but my ardor was unrequited. I was pretty much alone, and I must admit, rather a pathetic mess. It was time for me to get out of Dodge, or, er New York.

A couple of years later, shortly after Jo and I were married, we drove to New York as a kind of belated honeymoon and stayed with Dain and Jane at their apartment in Purchase, NY in tony Westchester County. Frankly, I can't remember specifically what Dain was doing at that juncture, but I'm pretty sure he was still clambering up Thespis' ladder. Jane had taken an accompanist job at a community college in Purchase. Jo and I stayed for a few days. As I recall the infamous Boris Spasky/Bobby Fisher chess match was ongoing.

That was the last time I saw Dain or Jane. We exchanged a few cards and letters over the next year or so, perhaps a phone call or two, but as so often happens, communications between us dwindled and ultimately ceased. I haven't seen or heard from any of them since. Until today I didn't know if any of them were still drawing breath.

I found Dain online today.

During our early days, first in Indy, then in New York, through any number of all night, sometimes drug enhanced gab fests with Dain, Jane, Carmen and others who occasionally came and went, my atheism took form. I remember one evening just as I was leaving their apartment, which overlooked Abbington Square in the West Village, I turned back and asked Jane if she believed in god. She thought for a minute, smiled, and quietly said no. I left, going back across town to my tiny rent controlled hovel in the East Village with the aforementioned and mighty Doodle in tow thinking about just where I stood godwise. I decided during that walk that I too, no longer believed. I felt as if a great weight had lifted off my shoulders.

Well, that was then. This is now. Dain, as it happens, is now a christian minister in Hollywood. In Hollywood for crap sake! He is a member of the "Pastoral Posse" (???) at his church. Talk about a slap upside the head?

How do I feel about this? Betrayed? Mmmm, that might be a bit strong. Sorely dissappointed? Yeah, I'd say so. I guess I always assumed Dain was my secret partner in crime.

Of course, Dain made his own choices as he had a perfect right to do. It was and is his life, after all. But as memory serves, he was so adamant, so sure of his sight back then. During that time in New York he reiterated time and again that to believe in god was ludicrous. Given what I've come to understand about people in the intervening years, while I am certainly chagrinned, I am not altogether surprised by Dain's reversion to religion. I think Dain always believed he was destined, if you will to be great at something. Perhaps things didn't go as he anticipated. Or, actually, maybe they did. I don't know.

Nor do I know if he now gets up and preaches the gospel. If he does, I'm sure he's very good. He has great stage presence. His voice, a mellifluous baritone, commands attention. His position with the church is noted as being related to spiritually inspired theatrical and film production. In a short bio on the church web site Dain states that his "occupation" is "actor, director, playwright," so he has apparently remained active in that world.

I'm still sorting this out. Dain certainly had no responsibility to me. He believed then, what he believed. Things change. Dain was (is) an intelligent guy; on the whole, much moreso than I. But he somehow thought his way back to the church. I can't account for that.

My atheism has remained steadfast and developed on its own over the last several years. The Dain/Jane/ Carmen trifecta started the ball rolling for me. But now I don't require them or anyone to validate what I believe today. Still, this revelation has shaken me to a degree. It is rather comically ironic, I guess. My wife thinks its hysterical.

I sent an email to Dain. I am curious to see if he remembers me, and if he will choose to respond. Perhaps he won't care to take a stroll down his long past secular byways.

I can take comfort in one thing, though. Dain's bio includes a photo. Dain is bald. I am not. Ha, ha. (Say it like the tough kids do who always beat up Bart on The Simpsons, you know, kinda nasally, but triumphant.)

TLS

Just thought I'd add a little postscript here. Dain does indeed preach the gospel. I found a podcast of a few of his recent sermons. He is indeed quite good. He uses his natural flare for the dramatic and his prodigious theatrical training coupled with his disarming charm to great effect in delivering his message.

Note that while I admire the delivery, I don't embrace the message. I suppose all this does reveal something about me, though. While I have actively sought him (among others) out from my deep dark past, I think it probable that I haven't so much as crossed his mind since Jo and I pulled out of his driveway in Purchase in the summer of 1972.

Another Mish Mash

A lot has been going on in the world over the last several days, and I have managed to pretty much ignore all of it. I've just let most of it go in one ear and out the other.

What did I take notice of?

People in positions of power keep saying stupid things. General Pace, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs put his boot in his mouth with his immoral gay comments. Now he regrets making the comments, but does not apologize for them.

We had a guy here in Indiana fly a single engine plane into his mother in-law's house killing himself and his young daughter who he took in the plane with him. No one on the ground was hurt, but apparently he did this deliberately as revenge against his ex-wife. Guess he showed her. These kind of events are so maddening. There is no way to gain retribution or justice against these assholes. How is it that anyone thinks that their lives, their agendas are of such great importance that the lives of others, often their own children or other supposed loved ones are of lesser value, that they are no more than pawns to be used for agendas not their own.

Just as I sit here, a local news item on the tube involved a man who stabbed his 11 month old infant, after an altercation with the child's mother.

Why are some men such assholes? Self important bastards. You only occasionally find women of this ilk. Susan Smith comes to mind. Andrea Yates. Amanda Hamm. Probably some others.

A girl my son went to high school with died in an auto wreck a few years ago. She was survived by her 2 year old daughter. Her live-in boy friend, who may or may not have been the biological father of the girl, fought for her custody against the deceased girl's parents. When it appeared that the court intended to award custody to the 2 year old's grandparents, the boy friend decided not to let that happen. He took his own life and that of the girl. Again, he showed them, by god! No justice is possible.

America's fatal flaw: The assumption that we are operating from a position of moral superiority in the world, and are, therefore, justified in waging pre-emptive war against those whom we determine to be morally inferior.

You know, Osama believes that his cause is right and just. He sees himself as a righteous muslim waging war against the infidel for the glory of allah. The young people who are lured into the war against the west, who become suicide bombers believe they are on the fast road to paradise.

Religious fundamentalists maintain total certainty that their particular god, their particular belief system is the one and only true faith. All others are, therefore, false. All followers of other belief systems are doomed to eternity in hell.

I know I have covered this ground before as have many others. But the situation remains more or less static. I recently watched the Jesus Camp movie. An entire generation of young people is being brain washed into becoming god's warriors. Those kids need an intervention. They need to be forced to look out of the tiny little god-shells the church has encapsulated them in, and be made aware of the world around them, warts and all.


This qualifies as one of my venting posts. Not particularly earth shaking, or even informative. Just venting.

TLS

Another Colts Note

It's interesting how during any sports' season and the lead up to the respective championship games or series that the fervor builds to a kind of fever pitch which, in the sports world at least, is all consuming. Who will make it to the playoffs? Who will win their conference championships? Who will advance to the finals? Then, and especially in the case of the Super Bowl, the hype and hoopla grow to huge proportions. A lot of money is being spent. A lot of money is being made. All the talking heads on the tube wile away hours analyzing each remaining team, breaking down the match ups, discussing who's healthy and who's not, attempting to determine how coaches are preparing their charges, making their predictions, etc.

Finally, the game is played. The gun sounds. It's over. Woohoo! So and so won! So and so are world champions! The winners walk around with helmets held high with huge smiles across their sweaty faces. The losers, with downcast miens, shake a few hands and melt away quietly to their locker rooms and off in their buses.

Afterwards there are game analyses, some interviews, a couple of appearances on Leno and Letterman, and then it's over. Aside from those connected to the winning team - as players, coaches, family, media and fans - nobody else much gives a crap.

The folks in Indy are patting each other on the back, basking in the glow of the Colts' Super Bowl win. It's all great fun. The folks in Chicago are licking their wounds, generally dissing the Colts - "Manning ain't all that good. We shoulda whupped 'em," and bitching about Rex Grossman and why Lovey Smith didn't pull him or call different plays or whatever.

The rest of the country could care less. As I said in the previous post, most people outside the Chicago and Indy regions by now may not even remember who played or who won. While Indy is pleased with itself, it should be understood that generally people don't care to watch someone else celebrate.

As this is the first major sports championship Indianapolis has ever won, I suppose we don't quite know how to conduct ourselves. Places like New York, Chicago or Boston, among others have "been there, done that" many times with many different championships. Not to say they don't celebrate. They have their parades and their speeches and their drunken parties just as we have. But, they probably aren't quite as giddy as we mid-western hicks have been about it. Their celebrations are seasoned with experience.

Nevertheless. I am happy that we won. While it's a source of boredom for some, it has put a bit of a spring in the step of a lot of people in and around Indy. If it never happens again, I guess that will be all right. We can in our boredom look askance upon those in future championship cities in the throes of their celebrations. We will no longer be suffering from trophy envy. We can say, perhaps with a knowing sigh: "Been there, done that."

TLS

Colts - Super Bowl Winners - Anybody Really Care?

If you look closely to the left of the guy in the "Addai" jersey you will see the "Lombardi Trophy." No, really. That's it. That is the symbol of what nearly 1700 burly guys knock heads (often literally) to achieve starting every year in mid-July at summer training camp and running through the end of January the following year culminating with the Super Bowl.

The Indianapolis Colts managed to acquire this little trifle this time around. Big wup, huh?

Well, yeah. I know it is all kind of silly. If you're not into sports, or specifically professional American football, it all seems superbly ridiculous.

In the particular instance recorded above a local Indianapolis Meijer store provided the venue for Colt fans' first opportunity to see up close and even touch the Super Bowl trophy. Something like four to five thousand people waited on line for up to five hours to take advantage of this. The trophy is still being toured in similar fashion over the next several weeks all over the state of Indiana, and even one stop in Danville, Illinois, probably just to piss off "da Bears."

I admit to making the trip to the Meijer store. However, upon seeing the crowd winding its way around aisle after aisle, my wife and I quickly determined that there was no way we would get in that line. The photo above is as close as I got to the trophy, perhaps 25 to 30 feet. I had to wait until people shifted around for a second or two revealing the trophy to my vantage point - then "click."

The NFL Super Bowl XLI DVD was released a few days ago and again thousands of people have lined up at area stores to buy it and get an autograph from one or more Colt players.

I imagine that, if you asked people at random (at least people not from Indianapolis or Chicago,) who played in the last Super Bowl and who won, you'd get a lot of blank stares. "Don't know, and don't give a shit." would be a likely response.

I will say though, that winning the Super Bowl is a good thing for Indianapolis. I heard someone on the tube just prior to the game claim that Chicago really needed a Super Bowl win to bolster the city's collective psyche. Well, I don't know about that. It seems that Chicago has had some fairly recent success in the realm of major league sports. If memory serves, the White Sox brought a World Series win to the Windy City in 2005. And the name Michael Jordan comes to mind. I think "da Bulls" managed a modicum of success in the NBA not so long ago. Correct me if I'm wrong.

Indy, on the other hand has had no claim to any kind of major league sports championship since the mid-1970s when the Pacers won a couple of playoff finals in the old ABA. Since the Detroit "brawl" the Pacers have become more of a punch line than a professional basketball team. Even the glory days of Bob Knight's IU basketball teams have become a rather dim and now bitter memory. Their last championship was 20 years ago.

Now Hoosiers can bask for a while. We can enjoy this at least until next December or January. Indianapolis is, vicariously at least, a winner. The Colts won the big one.

What does it all mean? In the end of course, not much. The supposed "glory" is over stated and ephemeral at best. In lite of what's going on around the world, competitive sports at any level pale in importance. Obviously, a lot of people could care less. I watch some football and basketball, but am far from being an avid fan. I wouldn't have waited on line for hours for much of anything short of free money.

A bit after 9/11 the Onion published a headline that read something like: "Americans need to get beyond 9/11 tragedy to return their attention to meaningless crap." It's true, of course. And by and large, we have. Sports are essentially meaningless. But compared to war, mass murder, genocide, pandemic disease and famine what isn't?

Regardless, now that I live in a winning Super Bowl city, I must admit, it's kinda neat. I'm not even that big a fan of Indianapolis. But perhaps people from elsewhere may be less apt to call it IndiaNoPlace. What the hell. I'll share in the fun, for a while at least.

TLS

Happy days are here again. The skies above are...

Just thought I'd post this great little poem as a pick-me-up for anyone going through difficult times.

HAPPINESS

by

Jane Kenyon

There's just no accounting for happiness,
or the way it turns up like a prodigal
who comes back to the dust at your feet
having squandered a fortune far away.

And how can you not forgive?
You make a feast in honor of what
was lost, and take from its place the finest
garment, which you saved for an occasion
you could not imagine, and you weep night and day
to know that you were not abandoned,
that happiness saved its most extreme form
for you alone.

No, happiness is the uncle you never
knew about, who flies a single-engine plane
onto a grassy landing strip, hitchhikes
into town, and inquires at every door
until he finds you asleep midafternoon
as you so often are during the unmerciful
hours of your dispair.

It comes to the monk in his cell.
It comes to the woman sweeping the street
with a birch broom, to the child
whose mother has passed out from drink.
It comes to the lover, to the dog chewing
a sock, to the pusher, to the basket maker,
and to the clerk stacking cans of carrots
in the night.

It even comes to the boulder
in the perpetual shade of pine barrens,
to rain falling on the open sea,
to the wineglass, weary of holding wine.

A note to Ms. Kenyon and her publishers: All proceeds from this posting will be donated to the "Hare" fund established on behalf of the emotionally traumatized bunny who unfairly lost the race of the century to that unscrupulous tortoise and his nefarious gang of shell bangers.

TLS

Just Jesus Land

Well, I read Jesus Land. I got it partly right. It does involve the heavy handed treatment of the author, Julia Scheeres and her adoptive Afro-American brother David, at a christian camp for supposedly troubled teenagers, the New Horizon Youth Ministry's camp, Escuela Caribe in the Dominican Republic. But their stay at Escuela Caribe was only part of the tale.

On the larger scale it is a story of abuse; physical, emotional, sexual abuse. It's also a story of racial prejudice and religious bigotry. It is a story of narrow minded stupidity. It is a story of hatred and self loathing. These elements come together in violence perpetrated against children; most pointedly Julia and David, whose childhood is stolen from them by a sadistic father, a self-involved religious automaton mother, another adoptive Afro-american brother who is also a sexual predator, racial hatred at their high school and the Lafayette, Indiana community, and the incredible stupidity and further sadism of those running the camp in the Dominican Republic.

Much of this is done in the name of old testament, fire and brimstone christianity.

While there is an air of predictability about Scheeres' narrative, it is that, perhaps, which makes it even sadder and all the more maddening. This story has been told before, many times. Every time we hear of this kind of abuse, we tend to believe, or at least hope that the act of airing these harrowing tales in books and other media will be useful in putting an end to it. But, of course, it doesn't. Demented, stupid people keep coming down the pike who use religion, among other weapons cruely against people, usually children, who haven't the wherewithal to defend themselves. The biblical concept of original sin is routinely used against children by supposedly pious adults as a justification for violence; all in the guise of turning troubled kids away from satan and toward abject supplication to god.

It should be said that Jesus Land is also a love story; the mutual love of Julia and David. The hell that the two of them lived through as societal and family outcasts served to create a bond between them. Each provided a small island of peace for the other. Julia and David were the only ones who had any understanding of what was happening to them. Each was the only person the other could trust.

I won't divulge the ending for anyone who hasn't but has an interest in reading Jesus Land. Not that it's some kind of mystery, but it doesn't end quite how you might think. Suffice it to say that Julia Scheeres is a survivor. Unfortunately, many others are not.

A couple of web sites of interest: http://www.nhym-alumni.org and www.nhym-alumni.org. The first was set up by a group of New Horizon alumnae who use the site as a tell all against the organization. The second is the New Horizon Youth Ministry's web site. They are still in business, and judging from the site, going great guns. That is great, indeed!

TLS

Evil is Afoot!

You just can't make this stuff up. Check out

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20070214/india_nm/india287685

We Westerners are just a nasty, depraved bunch.

TLS

Jesus Land and Beyond

This post, in slightly different form, was originally written as a comment on Julia Scheeres' blog site in response to her post titled "Ghosts of My Brother." Ms. Scheeres is the author of Jesus Land, the story of the life and death of her adoptive brother and, at least in part the disastrous effect a "tough love" religious camp had on him. Jesus Land was listed on the NYT bestseller list for some time.

I haven't read Jesus Land as yet. I have been aware of it owing to its success, but just haven't gotten around to it. As some of you may know I have read Sam Harris' and Richard Dawkin's recent books, among others. I am also in hopes of viewing the Jesus Camp film which has made some news of late.

While Ms. Scheeres now resides in San Francisco, she originally hails from in or around Lafayette, Indiana. Her blog profile states that she "outgrew" Indiana. I can relate to that, but I guess I never did - outgrow it, that is. I still live in the Hoosier State. Ah, but that's another story.

Several years back there was a christian based group in Indy that was housing a number of mainly Russian orphans (and children effectively orphaned by the incarceration, and/or addictions of their parents) at a former Stouffers Inn Hotel on north Meridian St. and the former Julietta Home on the far eastern edge of Marion County.

Via a roundabout means we were contacted by the group at Julietta to inquire if their kids could come to our home to pick apples. At the time we had seven apple trees and no means to utilize the overwhelming crop they produced. So, one sunny September afternoon we hosted a group of around twenty to twenty five kids ranging in age from six or seven to around seventeen to pick our apples. It is interesting to note that these kids were not eligible for adoption. They were all conscripted to return to Russia at age eighteen to serve in the military.

They wound up hauling out perhaps fifty or more bushels of apples, and we also allowed them to pick the grapes from our small arbor. Few of the kids spoke any appreciable English, and ostensibly for that reason, we were requested to refrain from making any attempt to communicate directly with them. At the time we thought that a bit strange. But overall, it seemed to be a happy experience for all. Perhaps it was just the effect of being outside on a lovely late summer day.

However, a few weeks later news hit the airwaves regarding this group and its heavy handed tactics at disciplining their charges. The name of the group escapes me at this writing. Some of the kids were reported to have been isolated in lightless rooms, trussed up in blankets, sometimes for days. The kids were often harrangued for their transgressions - whatever they may have been - in interrogation sessions rather ironically reminiscent of Stalinist era KGB or East German Stasi tactics. A number of other accusations were leveled at the group. I don't recall if there was any other alleged physical abuse, nor do I remember there being any accusations of sexual mis-conduct on the part of the overseers.

The end result, though was that the Russian government quickly pulled the plug on the group and whisked all of the kids back to the motherland. This revelation put a damper on our enthusiasm. What had seemed so blissful on "apple day," turned to a sense that we had abetted forced child labor.

The puritan ethic which still holds fast in this country often leaves one dumbfounded. The misery that is brought to bear against people of all ages, but most painfully, against children in the name of religion is despicable. The supposedly protective umbrella of religion often provides, rather a font of guilt, self-loathing and hate that gives license to all manner of abuse and, as we are now witnessing, mass murder.

TLS

Thoughts on Yet Another Cold Night

It has been very cold here in Indy for several days. We had an entire week with lows dipping below zero and haven't even approached the freezing point since I can't remember when. Now those of you in more northern climes are no doubt unimpressed. But it's a matter of what you're used to. If it snows a half inch in Atlanta, everyone goes ape shit. Indiana normally gets a fair share of "winter" weather, but this stretch of cold coupled with some significant snow is not the norm.

I just read the latest report from upstate New York that some areas have as much as 110" of new snow. That's more than nine feet! Holy crap! They won't dig out of that till the end of July. What the hell do you do with nine feet of snow?

But still.

The local weather guys are predicting no significant break in our situation. There is even another snow storm in the works as an arctic low is set to combine with heavy moisture coming up from the gulf. The next "perfect storm" on the brew. What a crock.

Oddly, we had the warmest January on record. No snow. A good deal of rain. But February has come in like an early arriving lion who has apparently eaten all the damn lambs.

So much for the blasted weather.

I posted some of my articles I've written here at Blog Critics Magazine (http://blogcritics.org) over the last several days. Overall they have been reasonably well received. An older article titled "On Death" didn't get much in the way of comments, but was chosen one of the selected "articles of the week" by their editorial staff. Pretty good, huh?

What is rather funny, though is that an article titled "The Folly of the Iraq War" got what I initially thought was major response. I don't believe that any post I've written here has had more than a dozen or so comments. The great majority of them get none. (No, no, that's all right. I've learned to accept it. I understand. Really.) As of this writing a total of 350 comments have been written under my Iraq article.

When it began to take off, I was delighted and surprised. While some of the comments were rather scornfull of my offering in that they felt it amounted to nothing but old news, some seemed to like all or portions of it for varying reasons. However, it soon became clear that my little article was of no particular concern to anyone. My bubble burst. Of those 350 comments, perhaps a couple dozen are even remotely related to the article. Most are concerned with what I assume are ongoing disputes between a number of contributors, editors and commenters which began long before I came on the scene. Being a newby, it didn't occur to me that there was long established in-house squabbling. Mercy me!

Apparently, one of the commenters is also a heavy contributor and editor on the site, one Dave Nalle. He has made comments under at least two names which others consider a dastardly deed. I have no opinion one way or the other. It comes down to being a tempest in a teapot as far as I'm concerned.

When I went through the process of registering for the site, I read any number of admonishments against personal attacks. They would not be tolerated! Well, aparently that ship sailed long ago. Pretty much everyone ranted that their fellow ranters are lying scum who should go fuck themselves by whatever means available - hard and often.

I should note that this group seems to hover around the "Political" section of the site. It is divided up into various areas of interest. Of course, I posted my Iraq article and also my article about Bobby Kennedy under the "Politics" banner. A couple other articles were posted under "Culture" and one under "TV/Film." As noted, they went largely unnoticed, but at least they were not subjected to the maelstrom of accusation and name calling.

I may avoid the "Politics" section in the future. Although, some of it was rather entertaining. It's surprising how imaginative people can be through their invective. I recommend the site to any of you unfamiliar with it. There is in fact some good writing to be found there. Some of it, if I may say so, is mine. (I'm hot stuff!) By the way, I post at Blog Critics under the name "Baritone" just to keep homeland security off balance.

Hee, hee.

Keep up the good work you motherfuckers! (Sorry, Jazzy)

At least it's something to do on a cold winter's night.

TLS