Notes on Midnight Mass

It wasn't planned, but Christmas Eve found my brother and I bleary-eyed and watching Midnight Mass. There's something soothing about the soft-glowing candles, the rhythmic camera fades, placid slow-pans, rich choruses and pageantry of this most holy of services. But while it began as a mere tranquilizer—something gently cupping me in my food-induced somnolence—my interest spiked when my brother told me that the Pope had been tackled earlier in the ceremony.

Having my computer nearby I looked up the incident online. Sure enough, Captian Frailty himself was downed by a red-hooded villain—a "mentally unstable" woman as it was uncommunicatively reported.

With renewed interest, I tuned back to the service on CTV.

The Pope did indeed appear shaken (as the news had stated) but he continued to look deeply despondent as the procession wore on. This solemnness was hard not to notice. It hung like a dark cloud over the ceremony leading up to and into his pope-ly address, which consisted of a predictably luddite and regretful appraisal of modernity and the impediments it poses on the path to righteousness. Basically, the speech was an appeal to the people of the world to open their minds and their hearts to God, or as he put it "Lord, open the eyes of our hearts."

Now, I don't have much experience observing Popes—I know them as slow-moving and decrepit creatures, with special transportation needs. But it would seem that if a Pope should be one thing, it's joyful. Joyful in the knowledge that they have truth, love and God on their side and everlasting life to look forward to. Benedict looked anything but. If there was passion in him, it was completely unavailable this Christmas Eve.

So where's the joy, Bene-boy? You're supposed to be a model of the endowment of religious faith, filled with Christ-love. People should look to you and think, what's his secret? how does he get along so well? But you looked like the embodiment of doubt and regret, cast of compressed resin from the bottom of Mother Teresa's guilt-stricken subconscious. I must say it didn't bode well. My advice to you would be to be a lot more like a really likable Grandpa-like figure. Draw people in with your radiance and make them feel that they too could achieve such a glow.

To avoid being any meaner to an old man who has just been accosted, allow me to continue in a different direction.

It occurred to me somewhere in my watching that if there's one thing uniting all religions at present, it's ensuring the stop-loss of wavering faithfuls and the corresponding rise of secularism. All Abrahamic religions, for example, despair at the ebbing away of the shared memes that keep their institutions vital (and subsidized!—god knows it costs a lot of money to clean the high-vaulted ceilings of the Vatican!)

In this sense, religion is engaged in an era of maintenance—stuck in a bid to convince a new generation of followers that faith is desirable to begin with. In this disparaging battle, even warring sects find common ground. Of course, if they do succeed in reversing the trend toward secularization, the fight over which doctrine should be adopted and which God worshiped will surely resume in earnest.

As it stands though—and this is evidenced by the defeated tone of Pope Benedictus' Christmas sermon (maybe too by the tackling incident)—these are hostile times for religion; we live in a markedly secular age, despite the supposed billion-odd Catholics bespeckling the earth.



Tackling incident:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/in_depth/8430406.stm

Midnight Mass in full:

http://vod.vatican.va/messa24122009.mov

Santa Claus: Gateway to skepticism

Photo: Alan Strakey

For many of us westerners, Santa Claus—along with the Easter Bunny—represent two archetypal disillusionments we must suffer on our path from credulity to greater enlightenment. After this of course it's all downhill, and the universe becomes a place increasingly void of fantastical entities, be they paternal or bunny-like.

Still, if you've maintained as I haven't, the notion that Santa maybe really does exist, or you're simply interested in witnessing the spectacle of truth-manufacturing—oh, and you live in Brooklyn—then don't miss tonight's lecture "Beyond Belief: A Philosophical Proof of Santa Claus," presented by Open City Dialogue, at Pete's Candy Shop in Williamsburg.

Sure to employ much truthiness, the interactive lecture aims to "restore the idea of Santa Claus to those who have suffered its loss. Using historical fact, ontological argument, and inductive reasoning, we will prove the existence of Santa Claus in a passion play for the non-believer."

Petty Friday: Don't knock it till you've tried it...

I followed a link that landed me at a slick propaganda machine courtesy of Scientology.org. Next thing I know, I'm about four informational videos deep being thoroughly overwhelmed by details of the life accomplishments of church founder, L. Ron Hubbard.

Proportionately underwhelmed, however, by the church's pie-in-the-sky precepts:

see Scientology.org's "Video Channel."

Postulating Hell's thermodaynamics

This gem comes (via my dad!) from that bastion of uncle humor, The Edge—no, not that Edge. I thought it worthy of dissemination. Of course, I'm also an uncle now...

Below is an actual response given on a University of Arizona chemistry midterm (so sayeth the Internet!)

Bonus question: Is hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

One student's answer:

First, we need to know how the mass of hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into hell and the rate at which they are leaving, which is unlikely. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving.
As for how many souls are entering hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today.

Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in hell to increase exponentially.

Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in hell to stay the same, the volume of hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:

1. If hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter hell, then the temperature and pressure in hell will increase until all hell breaks loose.

2. If hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until hell freezes over.

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my freshman year that, "It will be a cold day in hell before I sleep with you," and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then No. 2 must be true, and thus I am sure that hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct ... leaving only heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting, "Oh, my God."

And on the 7th day, he decided to post...

I've never been fanatical about comics. A few grabbed my interest in my pre-teen years, but I think that's just because they offered a slightly more explicit exhibition of female anatomy than did She-Ra. Suffice it to say, I would not consider myself particularly in the loop when it comes to comics, or graphic novels for that matter.

Supposedly, I should read Blankets, but I fear my biological window has closed on that opportunity, as I imagine throwing-up all over its saccharine contents. Plus it's a tome! Might as well start in on Hegel's Phenomenology if I'm gonna devote that kind of time (I know, I know, Blankets is mostly pictures...).

I've even managed to elude the Watchmen, which trusted sources tells me is well worth the read (and plenty philosophical).

All that being the case, it's no surprise that this, the most recent effort by artist/illustrator, Robert Crumb (known widely as R. Crumb), fell under my radar. It's a comic book version of Genesis—one that doesn't shy away from the "graphic nature" of the original. This means you can expect to see Eve in all her bare-chested glory, as well as Adam's you-know-whatsy.

Apparently, the removal of the proverbial fig leaf is accompanied with the insertion of a subtle layer of subterfuge on the part of Crumb, as he seems to have upset many conservatives with what they view to be a snide mistreatment of their sacred text.

Whatever his motivations, Crumb succeeds in breathing new life into the age-old fable, giving eyes and ears everywhere a chance to reacquaint themselves with the absurdity of it all.

In a way, it bears some resemblances to She-Ra's story.

Petty Friday: New Testaments (Nu/Used)

It's funny to see popular design styles appropriated in bible production. Why should a text of such eminent authority have to evolve?


Discovery: New Testament (Good News for Modern Man)
© American Bible Society 1966, 1971
This groovy bible was clearly a product of its era. The copyright info page features a stamp-like insignia that reads: "GOD'S WORD FOR A NEW AGE"


The Modern Language New Testament
© Zondervan Publishing House 1969, 1970
The Modern Language New Testament or simply, "MLNT," was a popular translation apparently. It has since evolved into the The Modern Language Bible, or "MLB." Not to be confused with the New International Version, or "NIV." All three, I presume, differ considerably with the "KJV."


The Answer New Testament
© Tyndale House Publishers, Inc 1997
Copping an arty Bauhaus aesthetic.

State of the Communion

Thanksgiving—more than any other holiday, I've realized—has the potential to bring about the sorts of benign vexations, the airing of which give this blog its general purpose.

I come from a big family. A big, fantastic family, full of love and—I want to say "freakish" diversity—though I know I'd be exaggerating slightly.

Each year, the majority of us gather in Spokane, WA at my aunt and uncle's beautiful lakeside home, where countless pies and casseroles converge and in the span of a couple hours, are reduced to remnants the likes of which are usually too meager to justify the use of tupperware.

At these gatherings the sheer buoyancy of the family geist is enough to keep even a space-case like myself from receding into familiar cubbies of introspection. Still, part of my mind (the part that constitutes "the back of my mind") scrawled a few napkin notes for later processing at God, LLC.

After all, what better grounds for study than a big ol' Catholic family?

Not that I was raised Catholic.

On the contrary, I was given a pretty much cursory religious education—bare bones, you might say. But, it turned out to be just enough to ensure that, try as I may, I will probably never fully escape the senseless guilt and feelings of blind duty that come bundled with a God complex.

I suppose I could always ask my mom what it's like—hers is the side with strong Catholic roots. Did I mention Thanksgivings in Spokane consist largely of my Mom's side? Where was I even going with this anyway. Oh, right... benign vexations and napkin notes.

I'm afraid, after all this build up, I'm getting cold feet about continuing with this family portrait. It's bound to be too lopsided. Suffice it to say, my only aim was to try and describe some of the frustrations that arise when you get a big group of people together, with a broad sampling of differences—especially when those differences are religious differences.

On the one hand, differing opinions give life meaning and kinesis. It's easy to forget this while in search of some mirage-like utopia.

On the other hand, though, it's individual constituents that amount to the elephantine machine that churns and croaks and takes donations and panders to the weak and hijacks minds and reshapes them into an image of itself perpetuating this credulity—you follow?

I will always choose people over ideas.

In this way, I guess I'll just have to continue venting my frustrations cryptically into the cybersphere, hoping that paint doesn't begin to un-dry.

Swiss ban minarets

Too bad, they sure are perdy...

Minaret, Serrières, Switzerland
Photo: Tambako the Jaguar

Swiss voters back ban on minarets - BBC News

Christopher Hitchens, Thomas Jefferson and Ridicule

A debate was held recently in London, the topic: "Is the Catholic church a force for good in the world?" I wasn't there but I've watched enough Christopher Hitchens clips on youtube to know how these things tend to go, so I wasn't surprised at the Telegraph's account of the debate.

Hitchens is a professional. On the one hand, he's meant for the stage with a sardonic wit and the ability to project his version of the truth with impressive clarity. On the other hand, and more importantly, he has a sturdy academic base, as evidenced by his erudition, professorship and biographical works. These more serious credentials (along with the above mentioned wit) collide with the sweaty impatience of an everlasting hangover to produce the sort of heroic condescensions seen here, and here.

But how does Christopher Hitchens exist in the potent form we see today? Perhaps it was his proximity to the writings of Thomas Jefferson (Hitchens has written biographies on Thomas Jefferson, Thomas Paine and George Orwell) that attuned him to the necessity of ridicule:

"Ridicule is the only weapon which can be used against unintelligible propositions."
-- Thomas Jefferson, letter to Francis Van der Kemp July 30, 1816

"Nothing but free argument, raillery and even ridicule will preserve the purity of religion."
-- Thomas Jefferson, letter to Dr. Benjamin Rush. 21 April 1803

Jefferson, a deist and author of the Jefferson Bible, clearly had a point. Where reasoned argument fails, ridicule is a last resort. Or perhaps a first one...

After all, ridicule—for better and for worse—is the invisible gargoyle guarding all of societies norms. Laws provide necessary structure and recourse, but ridicule plays a fundamental, albeit amorphous role in governing all that falls outside its domain.

For example, there's no law against owning a Hummer. But ridicule has surely done its part to regulate the expanded growth of Hummer sales (in fact, they've sharply fallen off!)

Inversely, there are wide-spread laws against committing acts of violence. And yet, in cultures where violence is glorified, an unwillingness to commit violence might be met with charges of softness or cowardice.

Even in the polite world of academia, ridicule is a significant force. It acts as a deterrent. One needn't always employ it because the potential of ridicule is itself enough. It's written onto our psyches.

I have this hunch that it's ridicule that keeps the faithful from getting more specific about their beliefs, meanwhile allowing atheists like Christopher Hitchens to be outspoken and trample them in debate. Hitchens, like Thomas Jefferson, knows the utility of ridicule, and is using it to great effect.

Second thoughts

Don't ask me how I come across this stuff at 2am, but I watched this video clip and found it utterly disturbing. I thought I'd post it. In doing so, I thought I'd title the post "Christian radicalism running amok" and call it a night. But that left me with a nagging feeling. What good does it do to contribute to bad air? to add to the already stifling tensions in the world at present? Why insert a link when it only leads to disheartening news? Not even news in this case. Just another anxiety-inducing tid-bit that affirms something you already know.

Maybe tomorrow I'll have something redeeming to say...

Regarding my last post...

News of the Federal Reserve's crack-down on banks for the dubiousness of their overdraft fee policies was unforeseen and abrupt enough to bring a victim of such criminality to near-tears. For an ecstatic moment, it seemed as if the clouds had parted and the big-man-himself was waving his finger at me saying "You see, I told you so! For shame, for shame."

In an instant, I came to regret my every utterance on this blog and I wanted to make things right. I wanted to apologies to all the poor souls I'd surely led astray, to all the radio stations I'd ever offended. This fervency proved fleeting, but I went on thinking along these lines for the rest of the day... and into the next—UNTIL! I realized the true nature of this occurrence...

It happened like this. I was just settling into my chair—new lease of life—ready to begin praise of His almightiness in a last-ditch attempt at favoritism, when I noticed the numbers... Let me explain.

It seems, in three years—three joyful years of apostatizing and bestowing the merits of skepticism on this blog—I have posted exactly 9 entries each year. This is evidenced by the blog archive scheme positioned to the right of this post (which, it's worth noting, should now indicate 10 posts for 2009 as opposed to 9 [at least at the time of this post]).

On a personal note, to this I say—Not bad! Twenty-seven posts in thirty-three months isn't shabby, especially, considering I never gave myself any sort of quota. On a demonic note, however, I say, this does not bode well...

Tracking with me? That's three 9's. Three 9's that, when turned upside down, make for three 6's! And as Wikipedia tells us, these particular characters when presented in succession amount to a certain number, a certain number of a certain someone who—as it turns out, aparently has a sense of humor, as I interpret this to be a direct message from BEELZEBUB HIMSELF!

Wow! Whoa is me! A personal acknowledgment from Satan, a nod of approval, the equivalent of a Hallmark card from Hell (Hellmark^® card, count it!) saying "Keep up the good work!"

And so, my hungry readers, you must pardon me for last week's knee-jerk reaction and the resulting polemic. It was all false on account of this fiendish prank, and the sentimentality that it bore I'll wear like a cheap smock I got at Old Navy that's short, wide and unflattering.

Stay tuned for regularly-scheduled programming...

STOP THE PRESSES! GOD, LLC ADMITS TO AN INTERVENTIONIST GOD

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20091112/ap_on_bi_ge/us_fed_overdraft_fees

MASTER OF MORMONISM!

...my idea for an ironic Mormonism tee:

Jesus and Satan "Spirit Brothers" according to Mormons

Eh, why not? It's no crazier a claim than countless others found in various, older (and thereby surely more credible) religious texts.

Jesus or Zeus?

Of course, nowadays the trend is toward a more figurative reading of things like Genesis.

But what will become of the world's faiths as adherents increasingly look on their texts as fable?

That is, as religions continue to transform to stay relevant—at what point do they become akin to Greek mythology?



Or will MORMONISM be the next rung on faith's evolutionary ladder?

I sincerely hope not. For myself, and for the people of this website:

http://www.exmormon.org

I found this thread particularly distressing:

http://www.exmormon.org/mormon/mormon311.htm

Heavenly Churches

Are fancy churches a testament to God's glory, or Man's ego? Or both? Whatever the case, there is something about church building that seems to tap into an architect's sense of otherness.


Notre Dame du Haut – Le Corbusier
Photo: 黃毛


Church of Light - Tadao Ando
Photo: Chris He


Pilgrimage Church - Gottfried Böhm
Photo: seier+seier


Grundtvig Memorial Church - P. V. Jensen Klint
Photo: seier+seier


Bagsværd Church – Jørn Utzon
Photo: James Woodward


St. Mary's Cathedral, Tokyo - Tange Kenzo
Photo: Shinjuku1


Notre Dame du Haut – Le Corbusier
Photo: scarletgreen


Notre Dame du Haut – Le Corbusier
Photo: scarletgreen


Notre Dame du Haut – Le Corbusier
Photo: Rory Hyde


St. Mary's Cathedral, San Francisco - Pier Luigi Nervi
Photo: Thomas Hawk

Petty Friday: Christian Rock Radio

A few weeks back, Bryan Free—who should probably seek royalties for every time his name gets dropped on this blog—called to say he was listening to Christian rock radio and that I should tune in. Well—I suppose, come to think of it, that's not why he called, he was following up about something else entirely—but most of our conversation was spent trying to recount the call signs and frequencies of various Christian radio stations and lamenting Christian music at large.

We both decided I should probably lend an ear to some recent Christian rock entries and review them at God, LLC. A music review, I thought—that'll be a first!

Now, to be honest, I started this post a few weeks back, so these remarks are in reference to whatever tripe was being played on Air 1 Radio (90.3 FM) at that time. Luckily, I can count on contemporary Christian music not to evolve too quickly.

Let's start with the website:

The Air 1 website, complete with distressed background effects, is adorned with "trendy" graphics reminiscent of those maybe seen in a Zummiez II clearance bin over a decade ago. And yet, the abundance of Web 2.0 widgets and cyber accoutrements smack of a recent redesign. Indeed, the trifecta of plug-and-play self-promotion (MySpace, Facebook, and Twitter) are all given ample real estate alongside YouTube, Flickr, and iPhone App links. But wait, here's something—a GIVE NOW link! (I'm seriously considering this for GOD, LLC).

To the right of these links, and in accordance with web geometry, the featured band, MIKESCHAIR, appears in their press photo to be a little more aware of the times. As for their music, I regret to say it bodes horribly. It's like a bad parody of a Christian rock band, but then again, that's the essential quality that seems to give an otherwise ragtag genre it's unity.

As feeble as MIKESCHAIR is however, at least they have the good sense to "play it safe." For it's when these groups undertake experiment that ears and sensibilities truly suffer.

Take the band Skillet, for example. Their song "Savior" features guitars so processed that it sounds like bricks being stacked to reconstruct various Godsmack rhythms. Sure, that may be a subjective quip, but with verse lyrics like "It's time to re-decide your deophobic mind", it's tough to favor any aspect of their music.

But I've digressed; I wasn't finished describing the website.

Another feature of the Air 1 homepage is the "Tell Us Your Story" section, where listeners are meant to share how it was they came to accept Jesus as Lord:

"I was stressed out about college. The day before i prayed i was almost in a 'panic attack' and i felt like i couldn't get things done. Later that night I prayed and asked if God would meet me half..."

This is where I forwent the opportunity to "read more."

Instead, I directed my attention to a section advertising "THE REVOLUTION!" with subsequent links like "support THE REVOLUTION!", "need prayer?", and "chat with a spiritual coach". I soon learned that Air 1 is "a non-denominational, non-profit, listener supported radio network" that believes that "there is a resurrection of both the saved and the lost—the saved to eternal life in heaven, the lost to hell." Does this not land one in a particular denomination? or would I be laughed out of Sunday school?

Also, how many spurious translations does it take to get to the tootsie-roll center of a verse like this:

"The Great Commission of the church is to go into the entire world and preach the Gospel to every person, using every modern means of communication available to us." (Mark 16:15, Luke 14:23, Matt 28:19-20, Acts 1:7-8, Mark 16:15-16)

I don't know either, but it explains the Twitter feed.

Oh, the music! I must be subconsciously avoiding it...

What is it about Christian rock that can be so grotesque? What it is about it that makes my skin literally want to crawl off my back, literally! For one, it's weird to hear all the novel sounds of popular secular music, including it's often palpable sexual verve, re-appropriated for the purpose of worship. You end up, on occasion, with a male crooner who, in serenading Jesus with a love song, is at the same time trying to sound sexy, a la Gavine Rossdale's, "Glycerine." Something about that doesn't sit quite right.

Or take Jeremy Camp for example; Christian music's answer to Nickel Back (not that the world was in need of such an answer). Sure, he may look like a vacant-eyed amalgam of every men's hair model I ever saw in one of those glossy hair-style guides at Super Cuts, but does that mean his music sucks? Probably — Apparently — Yes — yes it does. In fact, there seems to be a very concrete connection between his particular hairdo/soul-patch combo and the production of real sucky music. Suffice it to say, big guitars pounding out Nu-Rock rhythms alongside horrendously pouty vocals, atop the least inspired drum performance I've ever heard, does not for a good song make.

As I'm writing this I'm starting to feel bad. It's like making fun of retarded people or something. Even though I was raised in a more or less secular household, my mom use to say, "If not but for the grace of God, there go I." This is of course something you say in reference to the less fortunate, but it has a unique resonance with me. I prefer to substitute the word "God" with something like "chance" or "experience," transforming the sentence into an acknowledgment of the fact that we are all a product of our environment—something that, in many cases, we have little control over.

With this in mind, it's tough to be too hard on anybody, even Christian rockers. But for the sake of finishing what's been started, I shall continue down this path of malice as it's coming all-too-naturally, I'm afraid.

First, however, I'll pay a compliment to Christian rockers. That being, they really can sing! I know, I know, they all sang in church—but they know how to harmonize, they can create very rich harmony. It's just too bad that they use these talents to reproduce Blink 182 choruses with a decade's latency (listen to Reliant K's, "The Best Thing" for proof). In fact, that's the one thing that is so excruciatingly apparent if ever you tune in to one of these stations; not only is everything so unbelievably rehashed, but it's all from a recently bygone era. This tendancy has left me convinced that, in some cosmic dualism, every successful secular act born into the sphere, has it's own less compelling, less artistic, suckier, latent Christian counterpart. Thankfully we all have a choice between raw cane sugar, and Christian Splenda®.

But how to account for this lack of artistry?

Dave Bazan, a vaguely Christian artist who's music I love, may have some insight in this direction. Here's a line from his song, "Selling Advertising":

I know it's hard to be original
In fact nothing scares me more
Because Jesus only let's me do
What has been done before

(Having reminded myself of Dave Bazan, I want to make a distinction between legitimate artists who are also Christians [I've known at least one of these] and the popular Christian artists that I'm doing an amazing job of stereotyping!)

That said, I think there's something to this Dave Bazan line. After all, Christianity demands selflessness and service to others. This is God's will. Your work, as a Christian, is assigned to you from-on-high, and futzing around with your guitar in your bedroom, trying to figure out original chords, much less how you're going to become an individual, has got little to do with it. Unless, of course, you're not working in vain, i.e., your planning to better spread the gospel!

The painful consequence of this, however, is the utter singularity of song meaning on stations like Air 1. Not only is every last song about a love affair with God, but there's so little variance to the manner in which the topic of God is approached that it takes listening to about three songs to realize the formula. After that, you'll be able to anticipate the ends to all the lines in whatever song is on deck, or at least write your own. It's kinda fun actually! Careful though, this may do ir-reperrable damage to your psyche.

Tune in! >> http://www.air1.com/

The Problem with Religions Blogs

The problem with maintaining blogs is that they are the sort of thing that one intends to update regularly.

That said, a second problem is that they don't lend themselves to well considered, well researched argument. Take that statement for example. I don't intend to give any support to that claim.

Maybe, in truth, the problem is me. Or rather that my personality, doesn't lend itself to well considered, well researched argument. I'd prefer to pass this blame on to the blogging community at large (not you Bryan, there's nothing frivolous about your blog). After all, it's a communication format that myself and nameless others have chosen precisely for it's immediacy.

But can you have both immediacy and well considered, well researched content? Probably not. Why even try—after all, if I wanted to immerse myself in focused research I'd probably have stayed in school (maybe there they would have taught me how to maintain credibility with my readers!).

Or maybe I'd be agonizing over a book, or at least procrastinating a paper (e.g. Beverly Hills Cop: A Model for Secular Virtue).

But, alas, I'm blogging, which spans roughly five paragraphs and is about as formal as a hawaiian shirt, albeit, neatly pressed.

I suppose I'm saying all this because I often find myself with an urge to write about a topic that I know relatively little about, or that would require much too much research in order to arrive at an opinion worthy of dissemination.

What I've realized, however, is that I hold certain opinions regardless. I walk around with them every day, sharing them among family, friends and Apple store employees. Never mind that the majority of these opinions are potentially bogus, if not least uninformed, by any standard of rigor.

It's from this defective springboard that I launch today's nominal topic: Religion and Breeding

On second thought, better make it tomorrow's topic, it's gotten late.

Petty Friday: Head Trades Meth for God

Two members of Korn have now gone evangelical (Fieldy and Head). In his memior, Save Me From Myself, Head says, "Immediately after church, after raising my hand to accept Christ in my life for real this time, I went home, put on a movie for Jennea, and went into my master closet, opened the safe, and grabbed the best bag of meth I had in there. I snorted a line, then sat there on the floor, a rolled-up bill in my right hand, and prayed..."

Now, in my age and wisdom I'm finding it harder and harder to be an asshole for the sake of making jokes, a change which, believe me, I welcome like a staph infection. It's this annoying tick called empathy which has the tendency to suck the life-blood from 9-out-of-10 potentially funny remarks (at least the sort that I would consider funny). What is more, I celebrate this "forbidden humor" when I hear it from others—in fact, I revel in it. Arrgh...

This familiar standoff is largely the reason for Petty Friday, which I've never explained. Petty Friday at God LLC is (supposedly) the one day a week where I trade my preferred brand of self-righteousness for the one most conducive to humor—arrogance! This week, however, I couldn't have put it better than James Parker at Slate Magazine...

Read Nü Testaments and discover the "true" end of grunge.

Need A New Heart? I Thought So...

Billy Graham Quells The Crazies

Age and wisdom can be seductive. Here is a beautiful sermon by Billy Graham at age 80. He's offering parting remarks at a 1998 TED conference (TED stands for Technology, Entertainment & Design).

Compare this with his more outspoken appearance on Woody Allen's talk show 30 years prior and see how soft, ambiguous language (and humility) is better suited for winning over an audience of assumed unbelievers.