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."
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Sunday, December 6, 2009
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.
Friday, December 4, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, November 30, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Swiss ban minarets
Too bad, they sure are perdy...
Swiss voters back ban on minarets - BBC News
Minaret, Serrières, Switzerland
Photo: Tambako the Jaguar
Photo: Tambako the Jaguar
Swiss voters back ban on minarets - BBC News
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
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...
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