
From the Reno Gazette-Journal. HT: The Llama Butchers.

From the Reno Gazette-Journal. HT: The Llama Butchers.
When I walk outside to get the newspaper in the morning I never think to check first for skulking lions or packs of wolves. I drive to work with my seatbelt fastened and six airbags surrounding me and don’t bother to keep an eye out for bandits. I go to work in a building that’s never had a cave-in or been attacked by a whale and doesn’t even keep a tally board of how many accident-free days in a row have gone by. I come home to a delicious dinner that I didn’t have to risk life and limb in acquiring (and we haven’t bought any hydrogenated foods in years). If one of my children develops a cough I don’t worry that it’s the plague. My government hasn’t threatened to drag me away in the middle of the night for years.
Yep, our lives are pretty easy and danger free these days — or so I thought. I mentioned to my wife the other day that I had a case of bottled water in the trunk of my car if she needed any. She said I should be careful not to let the bottles get too warm because she heard they’ll release a toxic gas into the water. A few weeks ago I was eating with a group of folks and the discussion was about how cooking food in a microwave alters the molecules and destroys its nutritional value. This is supposedly especially true for vegetables, which I generally avoid anyway, but it makes me wonder what would happen if I microwaved a Twinkie. It seems to me as if the only way to go is up in that case, nutrition-wise.
Now when I was growing up I often heard that if you sat too close to that new-fangled color television set it would make you sterile (today they say that about laptops). I sat close to the TV anyway and it doesn’t seem to have had any effect. Of course, as a kid, I also drank out of the garden hose all the time — something else they now say you’re not supposed to do. The TV didn’t stop me from having children, and the laptop came along too late to impact our family planning (bringing one home all the time, however, does seem to have an affect on my sex life).
It’s hard to tell just what to take seriously anymore. I suppose anything that makes our life easier has just naturally got to have some insidious, toxic trade off (if only Eve had paid attention to the warning label on that apple!). I did some on-line research on the always reliable internet and there might be something to the microwaving thing (here, here and here, — oh, and don’t use one of these to dry your pet after a bath) and to the toxic water bottles, though there appears to be more concern about reusing bottles than the amount of PET that might leach into your premium H20. Still, it’s got to be safer than drinking tap water, right? Maybe not, unless of course you’re trying to avoid the harmful effects of fluoridation.
It’s enough to make you want to get your water direct from a clear mountain stream, as long as you don’t think to much about what all those fish and ducks have been doing in it.
I don’t know, I suppose the next thing they’re going to tell us is that watching television makes you fat.
There was so much in the news this week to comment on and so little time to do it. Let me see if I can sum up:
People were shocked when a Shock Jock called Anna Nicole Smith “an empty-headed ‘ho’,” but not as shocked as they were when Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson couldn’t find a microphone or a camera in order to apologize for maligning the Duke lacrosse players, who were conclusively proven to not have been the fathers of little Danielynn.
So, did anything important happen in the world that I might have missed?
I haven’t done one of these words of the week for awhile, but the popularity of the movie 300 reminded me that I never included one of my favorite entries from the book 1000 Most Challenging Words:
Laconism
(LAK uh niz um) noun
Or laconicism (luh KON uh siz um) We are more familiar with the adjective laconic (luh KON ik) than the noun laconism, a concise style of language, brevity; also applied to a short, pithy statement. Laconia was long ago a country in the southern Greece, with Sparta as its capital. The Spartans were concise, brusque, and pithy in their speech, hence laconic, under which entry in this author’s 1000 Most Important Words we read: “Philip of Macedonia wrote to the Spartan officials: ‘If I enter Laconia, I will level Sparta to the ground.’ Their answer: ‘If.’ Caesar’s famous ‘Veni, vidi, vici’ (‘I came, I saw, I conquered’) is a famous example of laconic speech — not a word wasted.” When General Sir Charles Napier (1782-1855) finally completed the conquest of Sind, a province of India, the story goes, he cabled the War Office one word: “Peccavi” (Latin for “I have sinned”). Quite a laconism, and quite a paronomasia in the bargain, even though the cable is generally believed to be apocryphal. And finally, the message radioed by an American pilot in World War II: “Sighted sub, sank same,” an alliterative laconism.
My example: Don Imus might wish he had spent more time working on his laconisms.
From the book, “1000 Most Challenging Words” by Norman W. Schur, ©1987 by the Ballantine Reference Library, Random House. I post a “Challenging Words” definition to call more attention to this delightful book and to promote interesting word usage in the blogosphere. I challenge other bloggers to work the current word into a post sometime in the coming week. If you manage to do so, please leave a comment or a link to where I can find it. Previous words in this series can be found under the appropriate Category heading in the right-hand sidebar.
Global warming, my frosted hind foot!
It’s not so unusual to have cold weather or even snow in April for a day or two, but we usually don’t end up monitoring the windchill. The roaring winds on Friday and Saturday would slap you down and drive an icicle through your heart, not to mention the Reverend Mother’s peonies and aliums.
Ok, despite the headline and how this post starts, I’m not going to go on about what the weather was like here the past few days. If you live here you know, and if you don’t, you don’t care. But I did notice some oh, inconvenient, truths while huddling in the basement near the warm TV.
Saturday night Rev. Mom and I settled in to watch one of my favorite movies, Local Hero, which I had received as a birthday present. The movie was filmed in the 80s, and at one point a couple of scientist characters are talking about how they proved they can prevent the coming ice age by rerouting the North Atlantic Drift . Yes, 25 years ago if anyone was talking climate change it was in terms of global cooling.
After my wife retired I switched from the DVD player to highlights from the Masters. The announcers were huddled together in the Georgia night wearing stocking caps and parkas, their breath puffing in great white clouds as they talked about how the unnatural cold and high winds were making the tournament a disaster for the players and causing high scores.
Sunday I watched the Masters live as it played out in balmy temperatures that climbed as high as 50 degrees. In the short commercial breaks I flipped over to the Twins game. This was only the second game in what had been meant to be a three-game series because Friday’s game had been called, not on account of rain or even snow, but simply, “cold”. I saw Joe Mauer standing at the plate in the bright spring sunshine, great clouds of his breath obscuring his famous sideburns.
You know, if this keeps up we might want to go back and look at those theories on how to reroute the North Atlantic Drift.
One of the songs we sang in church on Easter Sunday had these words:
I’ll never know how much it cost
To see my sin upon that cross.
We’ve sung that song a few times before and each time I usually think to myself that I do know how much it cost to redeem my sin — it “cost” Jesus having to come to earth in human form, being beaten, crucified, dying and rising again. Yesterday, however, it really sunk in for me that there is a difference between “knowing” and “experiencing”. Or, to put it in the words that occurred to me, it’s the difference between receiving a check for $1 million and writing a check for $1 million.
That’s not to say that most of us haven’t tried to write out our own check for our salvation, either out of our man-made doctrines or new age spirituality, or based on our “good works”. Inherent in all of those thoughts is that deep down we assume we’re not “that bad” (even “good”), so how big a check are we really talking about? The thing is, there is no check that we can write ourselves that would pay that debt, even on an installment plan. That’s because we all fell for the marketing incentives and opened our accounts at the First Bank of Hell (hey, I got a free toaster!), and those checks are always going to bounce. They’ll come back stamped NSF — Insufficient Faith. And man, those penalty charges eat you up.
Nor do I get any closer by taking that revelation and thinking that I’m a worm, a worthless sinner (especially if done with an all-too-human sense of pride at my humility). True, on my own that is what I’d be, but Jesus looked at the value and decided I was worth it. I don’t know which revelation makes me weep more.
It is a gift that I can’t explain, rationalize or justify; all I can do is either accept it or waste it. There were many over the weekend who tipped their hats to the “message of Jesus” without realizing the sacrifice he made. There were the ones, even in Christian leadership, willing to call him “Teacher” but not “Lord”. I know; I’ve been there, done that myself. As C.S. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity (and KingDavid reminded me):
A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic–on the level with a man who says he is a poached egg–or he would be the devil of hell. You must take your choice. Either this was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that [alternative] open to us
Filings is an ongoing section of this blog where the posts focus specifically on issues of Christian life. The name comes about because “filings” are the natural by-product of Proverbs 27:17: “as iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.”
I’ve noted before that blogging can be the modern equivalent of the classical diarist or “journal-ist”. That’s not to say that everyone is a Montaigne or Gracian, but it is a rich tradition. I note today that it is the birthday of William Wordsworth. The blurb I was reading about him indicated that he had been an enthusiastic writer in favor of the French Revolution, even though that was an unpopular position in his time. Becoming disillusioned with politics, he turned his writing toward other, more prosaic, topics. As the Writer’s Almanac notes, between 1797 and 1807:
At the time, most poets were writing poetry about broad topics of history and religion and philosophy. Wordsworth wrote about ordinary things and private thoughts, the view from a bridge, daffodils. Critics thought he was wasting his time on uninteresting subjects. But by the time he had reached middle age, he became a cult sensation and his collections of poetry became best-sellers.
I read a lot of blogs for awhile before I started my own and saw that there was a good representation of those writing on philosophy and religion and “modern history”, i.e., politics. There was also a good smattering of those who wrote about ordinary things and private thoughts.
I liked all kinds, and have dabbled in each form here. I think I’d be bored if I tried to confine myself to one niche or another. The thing is, when I’m writing out my philosophical commentaries on politics or the news I frequently think I should be doing more observational posts. But when I’m writing the more personal stuff I feel as if I should be writing about the news of the day. Why is that?
Anyway, I’m just throwing that out as a random observation. I suppose the main thing for me, no matter what I write about, is just that I write.
I’ve been cranking along doing two jobs at work for a few weeks now. It’s meant limited time for lunch and longer hours (well, technically, it’s meant more hours; it’s just that I wish the hours could be longer somehow in order to squeeze everything in). Most nights I’m either bringing work home or I’m too tired to put a lot of time and research into a new post so I’ve just written some things off the top of my head to keep Tiger Lilly from taking over. I also haven’t had as much time to cruise through the MOB and my blogroll, which is what I really miss.
The pace at work has been kind of invigorating (yeah, I think that’s the word to describe the constant squirts of adrenaline and caffeine), and the end may be coming into sight. The light isn’t on at the end of the tunnel yet, but we’re getting real close to flipping the switch, I think.
There have been a number of things I would have liked to have written about lately but couldn’t get to them. Fortunately it hasn’t been hard to find others who are doing a better job on these topics anyway. Earlier this week Nick Coleman had a column saying that the rich aren’t paying their fare share in taxes in Minnesota. Coleman’s rant was about as predictable as worms on a sidewalk after a soaking rain, and it was just as easy pickings for my eagle-eyed friend Jeff Kouba at Truth vs. The Machine who (and Nick, you might want to consider this) actually looked up numbers and knew what they meant. As John Adams said, “Facts are stubborn things.” They can also be fun!
Also, it’s baseball season again. My joy at the return of the Twins is nearly equaled by the pleasure of being able to read the post-game analyses and musings by Bat Girl and her all-star roster of designated hitters as they follow the adventures (real and imagined) of our favorite team. This is good stuff, folks: funny, fresh and often surreal. If you’re only reading about the Twins in the newspaper you’re missing at least half of the fun.
AAARRGGH! There’s goes the shock collar again. Back to work!
The painting was Vannini’s “Triumph of David”, depicting the young shepherd holding up the severed head of Goliath. The attacker’s nationality wasn’t disclosed, but I’m guessing there are still some prickly Philistines around who’ll take umbrage at such physical representations.
Then again, it is Milwaukee. He might have just been drunk.
You just have to have lived here for awhile.
Uh-oh, Tom Waits. What had been perfect musical accompaniment on a cold, rainy night last week seemed jarringly out of place on a soft spring evening. Of course, Tom Waits can be jarring anytime. There was an amusing incongruity, however, in hearing him croak about something being as cold as a gut-shot wolf-bitch with nine sucking pups pulling a number 8 trap up a mountain in a snowstorm in the dead of winter with a mouthful of porcupine quills. Now that’s cold. And that’s probably the forecast for next week.
Yesterday:
Cold wind, rain and 11 inches of snow in Brainerd.
Today:
High of 30.
Who needs Paul Douglas?