Friday, 19 August 2011

If you enter “why do atheists” into Google, here are a few things that pop up:

Why do atheists attack religion?

Why do atheists hate Christians?

Why do atheists care about religion?

Why do atheists debate theists?

Why do atheists care what others believe?

Why do atheists and skeptics continually bash Christianity?

Why do atheists hate my god?

Why do atheists ridicule Christianity?

…okay, you get the idea. The point is, lots of people wonder why non-believers feel the need to pick on belief, particularly Christianity. Ignoring the hypocrisy for now, it’s a fair question to ask. I mean, I’ve quit jobs in the past, but I don’t ‘bash’ them. I’m fine with the fact that other people – very kind and friendly people – continue to work for employers that I have deemed unacceptable for myself.

So why not the same for Christianity? If I wanted to  leave Christianity, fine, but why bother to ‘continually’ pick on it? Can’t I just leave people to worship (or not worship) as they desire? It’s a free country, after all.

Here’s your answer:

…and if you can’t get through that without feeling enraged – or at least sick to your stomach – then you’re more of a Vulcan than I am.

So, in the ironically-named town of Paradise, a mom and a dad beat their daughter to death. And they’re Christians. Big surprise. And remember: Christianity is supposed to be a religion of love and moral superiority.

The people in the video reference Proverbs (ha!) 13:24, where it says: “Whoever spares the rod hates their children, but the one who loves their children is careful to discipline them” (New International Version). I once attended a presentation where the minister noted that “rod” came from the Hebrew word “shebet,” which was the staff that shepherds used to gently guide their sheep. If that’s true (and the logistical wrangling of sites SUCH AS THIS ONE seem to indicate that it is true), the Kevin and Elizabeth Schotz become two more of billions of bible who can’t seem to figure out what the bible really meant. You’d think an omnipotent deity could write a more coherent book.

Apart from attributing their deplorable behavior to the Holy Bible, the report also notes the influence from Michael and Debi Pearl’s book To Train Up a Child, a book which advocates beating your children with a branch or a spatula because, well, ’cause the ‘good’ book says to, that’s why.

During the interview, notice that Michael Pearl says that if a young boy, around seven years old, slapped his sister, the appropriate way to discipline the boy would be to “explain to him that what he’s done is violent and that that’s not acceptable in society,” then take him into his bedroom and give him 15 licks with a belt. And note, this wouldn’t be done in the heat of anger (which is still bad, but…). Oh no, this is fully premeditated, in which you take the boy into his room and ‘rationally’ explain that you’re going to beat him. Maybe to death.

These assholes thought could write a book even more disgusting than the bible. Nice try, fuckers, you’ll have to try harder next time.

Once Kevin realized his god-approved discipline had caused his girl to become unconscious and unresponsive, he began praying for a miracle. Just kidding. Seems that even a dipshit like Kevin knows that prayer is useless – in his moment of distress, when his daughter really, really needed help, he called not god, but 911. Paramedics came and used their wicked, evil, Satanic, evolution-promotin’ Science to try and keep the girl alive. The other children were taken away from their Christian mom and pop and, once again, non-godly science was used to treat their injuries.

Kevin and Elizabeth pleaded guilty and will be in prison for at least 22 and 12 years, respectively. This helps answer that age-old question: how much is a little girl’s life worth? Apparently 32 years.

Huh. That’s funny. What does the bible say about people who kill other people?

“Whoever strikes a man so that he dies shall be put to death” (Exodus 21:12, English Standard Version).

So maybe they should just be killed. Oh wait – that scripture just talks about the killing of a man. Measly children (especially a female child) probably don’t matter as much. (They don’t.)

Butte heads: Kevin and Elizabeth: charged with doing what the bible says.

Actually, though, I’m just kidding. I don’t think they should be killed. If I did, I’d be guilty of the same hypocrisy that I just accused the Peal’s of earlier in this post. Instead, I hope prison affords them a chance to get their heads out of their asses.

Thursday, 18 August 2011

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, the fun of tracking Billboard’s #1 hits is the TRIVIA! Today, a performer tied a new record on Billboard’s Hot 100 and, even though I’m not a fan of this performer, I think it’s a pretty cool record and so I’m gonna talk about it here.

Today, singer Katy Perry scored a #1 hit with her song “Last Friday Night” (go ahead and click on the link – the music video is actually kind of fun, especially if you grew up in the 1980s). This marks the fifth #1 song Perry has scored from her album Teenage Dream. The other four #1 hits were:

California Gurls [sic] (hit #1 on June 19, 2010)

Teenage Dream (hit #1 on September 18, 2010)

Firework (hit #1 on December 18, 2010)

E.T. (hit #1 on April 9, 2011)

This is an amazing feat. The album, like most, has 12 tracks on it, meaning that nearly half the songs on the album have gone to #1. This is a rare feat indeed. In fact, no one’s ever done better.

But notice I said she TIED the record? Who, you ask, shares this record with Perry?

I’m glad you asked.

Well, you might be inclined to think of some of the biggest albums from the past 50 years, such as Pink Floyd’s The Dark Side of the Moon or Led Zeppelin’s Houses of the Holy or Nirvana’s Nevermind. Well, those are pretty lousy guesses actually. Many of rock’s mainstays preferred to not cannibalize their albums by selling the individual songs separately so, in fact, those three albums had a combined total of zero number one hits (and, in fact, Nirvana and Led Zeppelin never had any #1 hits).

Dark Side of the Moon: This enormously selling album scored exactly zero #1 hits.

“Well, then, maybe it was an album that sold well and released separate songs as singles, like the Bee Gees’ Saturday Night Fever or Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the USA. Those are better guesses – Saturday Night Fever yielded four #1 songs, though, not five. Born in the USA, meanwhile, suffered from a case of really bad luck: it managed to rack up seven top ten singles, but nary a one went all the way to the top (“Dancing in the Dark” stalled at #2).

Back Side of the Springsteen: This enormously selling album also scored exactly zero #1 hits.

“Ah,” you say, “but those albums weren’t big enough! If we’re talking BIG albums, we’re talking Thriller.”

To which I respond: “Yes, Thriller is the best selling album of all time. But since people liked the whole album, they just bought the whole album, not the singles. Thriller ‘only’ achieved two #1 hits.”

Thriller only logged two number one hits? Beat it!

“Oh, well then the record must’ve been set by someone famous for individual songs instead of individual albums, such as Madonna, Mariah Carey, Paula Abdul, or George Michael. ”

These are better guesses. Madonna twice scored three #1 songs from two of her albums, but that’s the best she ever did. Mariah Carey and Paula Abdul, meanwhile, each hit the #1 spot four times with songs from a single album, but not five.

Straight Up now tell me: Would you believe Forever Your Girl garnered FOUR number one hits?

I’m not sure if this album yielded four different #1 songs, or just took the same song to #1 four times.

George Michael, incidentally, came the closest. He achieved #1 four times with songs from his album Faith (“Father Figure,” “Monkey,” “Faith,” and “One More Try”). His song “I Want Your Sex,” however, petered out at #2.

What? You mean Faith wasn’t enough to secure five #1 hits? God, whodda thunk it?

So then you say: “What about Elvis?”

I say: “Sorry, Elvis churned out the albums so fast that none of them had time to churn out five number one hits. He did top the charts as a soloist more than any other act (17 times), but he never managed to wrangle more than two #1 hits off of any album.

So then you say: “Oh – now I know – it must’ve been the Beatles, right?”

Wrong. Like those classic rock acts listed above, the Beatles often preferred to leave their albums in tact. Rubber Soul, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, and the white album all went to #1, but none of them were granted a chance at spawning any #1 hit singles. Additionally, they had the nasty habit of releasing some songs without putting them on any album. So even though “Day Tripper” and “Hey Jude” both went to #1, for example, neither of them were credited to a album. The Beatles’ album Help holds two number one songs (“Yesterday” and the title track), Abbey Road had only one, “Come Together,”  Let it Be had three (“Get Back,” “The Long and Winding Road,” and the title track) as did Magical Mystery Tour (“Hello Goodbye,” “Penny Lane,” and “All You Need is Love”). Technically, I suppose, you could argue that their album 1 had those most number one hits on it (20!), but that was compiled retroactively, so it doesn’t count.

All you need is 1: 20 Billboard #1 hits on a single album.

So who did score five number one hits from a single album?

Well, I’ve already said his name, but I threw you off by talking about the wrong album. Michael Jackson hit #1 five times with singles from Bad:

I Just Can’t Stop Loving You (hit #1 on September 18, 1987)

Bad (hit #1 on October 23, 1987)

The Way You Make Me Feel (hit #1 on January 22, 1988)

The Man in the Mirror (hit #1 on March 25, 1988)

Dirty Diana (hit #1 on July 1, 1988)

“Smooth Criminal,” incidentally stalled at #7.

Bad? Not bad.

Anyway, congrats to Perry for tying a record held by the King of Pop for nearly a quarter of a century. HERE’S THE LINK TO BILLBOARD DISCUSSING THE RECORD.

Katy Perry celebrates with class and style.

Wednesday, 17 August 2011

So, I really hate talking about this sort of thing, but I’m going to because it annoys the shit out of me…

I’ve ‘closed’ (whatever that means) on a house twice before in my life. Both times, my wife and I had to dig up old papers – such as tax returns and pay stubs – and fax them in to our realtor (or mortgage person or whoever handles the ‘closing’ crap). Then, one morning, we show up at the realtor’s office and there’s a bunch of people there, including someone who ‘does’ loans and the people who are either buying the house we’re selling to them or the people who are selling us the house we’re buying. Then a couple of mind-numbing hours in which I have to scribble something about 500 times on a line that says “buyer” or “name.” It’s a boring procedure so steeped in bureaucracy that there’s even a form they make me sign that informs me there are now less forms to sign (I’m not joking).

But thanks to modern technology, this process has improved! Well, it’s improved for everyone else.

Every week day for the last week – and on several occasions before that, either the realtor or the loan officer or someone who calls herself “The Processor” has emailed Jennifer and me, often more than once a day, requesting that we print out, read, sign, and fax back documents that take up several pages. Man, I’m glad they’re saving so much money on ink and paper! Whatever happened to just showing up on the date of ‘closing’ and signing everything then? As I told Jennifer last night, after printing and faxing close to 100 sheets of paper, I sure hope that when we arrive at ‘closing’ all I’ll have to do is shake hands and swap keys.

Anyway, yesterday I received an email from “The Processor” informing me that I had to go to some website to verify my employment. Since Jennifer handles most of this shit (and since I already know that I’m employed), I just deleted the email.

Today, she wrote back again saying that she needed me to take care of this NOW!

So I clicked on her link (which didn’t work, but I figured out the site she needed me to go to) and, well, I was completely lost. It asked me to enter my employer’s name, then my employee ID number. So far, no problem. Then it asked for my pin number. I didn’t know what it wanted, so I made a few guesses, including the password I use at work and the last 4 digits of my Social Security Number (our realtor mentioned something about that a few days ago). No luck.

So I wrote back to “The Processor” and told her I was unable to get into the site, but that if she wants employment verification, I could send her some pay stubs, or she could call my boss. Apparently, even though this method worked from 1900-2010, it no longer works in this ‘advanced’ age. She replied saying she would need two years of pay stubs, and my HR department is not likely to help since they now pay this third party to verify employment. (Man, it must have been so taxing for HR to have to answer the phone and say, “Yes, James works here, and he has worked here for seven years.” Damn. Those poor people.)

So I went back to the site, and tried to figure out how to get a password. I clicked “Forgot my password” (even though I never had a password to forget). I was then prompted to enter in all my basic info: name, address, phone number, and then they asked me some ‘security’ questions. God, I hate those things…

What was the name of your first pet?

I don’t know. How do I decide that? Is it the animal that lived in the house when I was born, or the fish my parents bought for me when I was 5? Do fish count? Or is my first pet the cat I bought as an adult? I bought two cats that day… which one should I pick?

What is your mother’s maiden name?

Well, that’s easy, but it’s not much of a security question. My mom reverted to her maiden name for about 10 years while she was in between husbands, so almost everyone who knows my mom knows her maiden name.

In what city did your grandmother live?

Which grandma? When? And why is it in past tense? Both of my grandmothers are still alive, and both of them have lived in a dozen cities at least.

Anyway, after answer nine (NINE!) questions like that, the pop-up window closed and told me I was now in the system. The problem is, they never gave me a pin number. So I called the toll free number, pressed “1” for English, and sat on hold…and sat…and sat…and sat. In fact, I was on hold the entire time I wrote this blog post. I finally decided to click “forgot my password” again and this time it asked me a security question. I answered it, and then it prompted me to enter a new password. I got it ‘wrong’ the first two times, ’cause it turns out you can only use numbers, but I finally entered in a password. This then gave me the ‘key’ that “The Processor” needed.

I wrote to her:

Just for the heck of it, my phone is still sitting here on my desk on hold. It’s been 41 minutes and I’m curious how long I would have had to wait.

At least “The Processor” didn’t have to waste her lunch break sitting on hold. I’m expecting the realtor to email me later with instructions on which pen I need to bring with me to ‘closing.’

Monday, 15 August 2011

Today was Owen’s first day in his Egypt class at the Science Museum of Minnesota. Despite initially being anxious about the class, he appears to totally love it now. He regaled first Jennifer and then me with all sorts of facts about King Tutankhamun (or Toot Uncommon, if you prefer). He also expressed his desire to eat at a local Mediterranean restaurant run by a family from Egypt. A few times, he mentioned that things we were talking about reminded him of something that happened in class today.

All in all, he was calmer and easier to deal with than usual.

Jennifer noted that this is how Owen was back when he was in Kindergarten: the structure and the busyness of the school day made him calmer in the evening. “He likes having structure in his life,” she said.

This gave rise to two interesting conversations this evening (well, I suppose a better word would be ‘blog-worthy,’ because really it’s up to you, the reader, to decide if this is interesting or not but, since I am writing about it, it’s undeniably blog-worthy):

First, did Kindergarten ruin him? That is, now that he’s been exposed to the structured environment of a school setting, he seems unable to find something to do with his time on days that lack structure. He constantly says he’s bored, and we have to remind him about things that should be obvious (“go play in your sandbox” or “get out your Legos”). Maybe ‘ruined’ is a strong word. Maybe it’s more like finally getting a glasses prescription: now that he’s experienced life one way, it’s tougher to back the other way. He also really likes to learn new things, and there’s not as much of that during summer break. He was really excited today to learn new things, so we are considering enrolling him in an exclusively themed Egypt school. So, maybe now that he knows what it’s like to have long days of learning, he goes crazy on days when that doesn’t happen. Good thing first grade is starting soon.

Second, Owen’s grandparents were kind enough to pay for the class, partially due to the fact that I whined about the cost some months ago. Coupled with the fact that we’ve been packing lately and bemoaning our deluge of possessions, Jennifer alighted upon a swell idea: we should encourage people to buy Owen experiences instead of things. I’m not sure how to implement this, but I think it’s an interest (well, certainly blog-worthy) thought. Owen gets an avalanche of toys, games, and books all the time: for Easter, his birthday, Halloween, and Xmas. Besides that, my mom shows up with toys for him every time she visits. Heck, he even got a present at his sister’s birthday party!

I certainly don’t want to downgrade these kind acts in any way, and Owen definitely appreciates them, but here are the facts: Sometimes the toy hardly gets used. Other times, it breaks. Frequently, he outgrows the toy. In some cases, we don’t have room for the toy. And, on very rare occasions, the toy is a duplicate or near duplicate of one he already owns (except with crayons: that happens all the time – please, if you want to give Owen the gift of a coloring book, that’s great, but I assure you: he has ample crayons!).

An experience, on the other hand, is awesome even if it is a duplicate (Owen would probably walk to the Children’s Museum if given a ticket, even though he’s been there five or six times already). An experience won’t break, it won’t take up any space in Owen’s room, and he’ll never outgrow the memory. Well, I suppose he might completely forget a specific experience, but at the very least he’ll have a good experience and a fun memory to last a while.

Now, how to implement this…?

Tuesday, 16 August 2011

For the past several months, when I’ve come home from work, if I had any change in my pocket, I handed the money to Owen and told him to go put it in his piggy bank. Today, I just handed it to him and said, “here you go.”

We’re trying to get Owen used to the idea of saving for things and spending his own money. This has been good so far – when we leave to go to IKEA, for example, Owen inevitably says he wants to buy ice cream when we get there. I then ask, “Do you have some money with you?” and then he runs to get a dollar from his drawer.

So, the other day, we were at the Mall of America, and Owen (as he always does) announces that he would like to visit Underwater World (or whatever it’s called this week). Instead of just saying no, I told him that Underwater World is expensive and that I didn’t have the money to do it right now. I suggested that we save up the money and then set aside a few hours one day to go there.

So now whenever I have change, he squirrels it away in a wallet (he has four wallets – see above) in his nightstand drawer. Part of me feels bad; Underwater World isn’t that expensive so maybe I should just take him this weekend. But part of me thinks this is a good opportunity for him. If he manages to save up enough money for us to all go to the aquarium, good for him! And good for us!

If you’d like to read about our other kid, read my wife’s ridiculously cute blog post on Isla’s 12th month RIGHT HERE.

Friday, 12 August 2011

Have you ever noticed how much people just fart around at the beverage/condiment stations at fast food restaurants? This sort of thing always seems to happen.

Today, some co-workers and I paid a visit to Qdoba. The cashier handed me a cup for my drink, and then I walked over to get some iced tea. But first I had to wair for someone who was taking up the whole counter. She held her cup up to get some ice. Then checked her cup to see that there wasn’t enough ice in it. So then she pushed her cup up against the lever to get a little more ice, but evidently those ten pieces of ice were just a tad too many, so she had to sprinkle some onto the drain.

She next stared at the five beverage options (six if you count water), and slowly waved her cup back and forth as if it was a dowsing rod that would lead her to the ideal carbonated drink. She finally began filling the cup with some kind of Coke or Coke derivative. Once the liquid reached to within an inch of the top, however, there was too much foam, so she had to pour that out. This then left room for more liquid – and heaven forbid we not fill our cups to the rim – so she filled the tiny space with more Coke, which created more foam.

She then needed to secure a lid onto her cup. I’m not sure why this is necessary if she was planning on dining in the restaurant (and she was). It’s just a waste of plastic. Are adults really that sloppy that they need a lid on their beverages before sitting down to drink it? My 6 year old son hasn’t drank from lidded containers for years…so maybe he’s just incredibly advanced?

Of course, these lids stick together, so the woman had to pull apart a couple of them in order to get just one. But…guess what…it was the wrong size lid. So she set it down and then repeated the process with lids from another dispenser.

Then there was the matter of the straw, which, for some stupid reason, she couldn’t just grab, toss on her tray, and then walk away. No, she had to remove the wrapper and insert it into the lid while standing their in my way.

Sometimes, when I get tired of waiting, I will begin filling my cup while another person is still gingerly pouring off the foam or other such nonsense. That person usually casts a glance at me as if my behavior is rude. I don’t know, is it? Is it wrong to ‘share’ a beverage filling station with a stranger? I mean, I share elevators with strangers, but maybe this is too much of an affront to people’s space?

This sort of thing has led me to pride myself in my quick uptake at the beverage station. I walk up there, careful to leave room for other users, and just plunge my cup against the beverage of choice. If there is foam, guess what? I don’t care. I can go back and get more to drink later if I want. If I select a beverage that doesn’t taste good, guess what? I don’t care. I can go back and get a different drink later. I don’t need a lid or a straw. Since the drinks are already cold (excepting, sometimes, the tea), I don’t even need ice. In the case of said tea, I will grab a lemon or sugar and toss them on my tray and prepare my drink at my seat, where I’m not hogging the station.

Thanks for listening.

Also —

While at the Sherwin Williams on Snelling Avenue in St. Paul a few weeks ago, I took this picture:

I then sent it to the folks at Apostrophe Abuse. They posted it to their main page. GO HERE TO SEE THAT. They actually posted it a few days ago, but I only became aware of it today.

Saturday, 13 August 2011

Happy Left-Handers’ Day!

We really started packing up stuff in earnest today. There’s a small part of me that likes packing, really. I mean, I hate the idea of stuffing fragile things into boxes and then opening them up in a new location a few weeks later just to see what has broken. I hate, too, that we often find just the right way to fit a framed picture, or a shelf, in a room and then we have to take it down.

However, I do like having to go through everything we own. My chronic complaint about my life is that we all own too much stuff. It’s great to have to dig out every corner of the home and uncover stuff we don’t really need anymore. We threw some stuff in a Goodwill pile, and other stuff went right into the trash. Jennifer is also planning on selling some stuff on Craig’s List.

I sometimes have this idea for a device that sits on your desk and, at any given moment, measures the amount of solid matter in your home. I’m not sure exactly how it would work, but I would somehow have to ‘zero’ it out by first accounting for the walls, floors, and permanent fixtures – such as curtains, ceiling fans, and appliances. The device would be constantly scanning my home for the amount of ‘stuff’ we have. If I brought home something from the store, the number goes up. If I take out the trash, the number goes down.

I’d want it to have the ability to segregate the total number into three smaller numbers: one number would indicate consumables, another would indicate items marked for removal, and another number would indicate everything else. That final number would be the key, of course. I wouldn’t really care how high the consumables number was – bringing home a 96-pack of toilet paper, or some more kitty litter, or groceries, wouldn’t really count as assets since they are not permanent fixtures, but are designed to be consumed. The stuff marked for removal, too – such as our recycle bin – would account for the second number, and also wouldn’t really be my concern. But I think it would be fun to try and keep that final number below a certain level.

This is all very preliminary, you understand.

Sunday, 14 August 2011

Today we spent several hours at Fort Snelling State Park. Jennifer tried to take photos of Isla, who was largely uncooperative. Own and I, meanwhile, played at the beach. I had assumed Owen wanted to play in the water, but it turned out he wanted to play in the sand building useless canals. We did not bring his sand toys with us, so we ended up purloining spades and shovels from distracted children.

Here’s the end result of his engineering handiwork:

Basically, the lake water enters the canal at the top of the photo, sloshes around through the channels, then comes back out. Owen was hoping some fish would swim through it, but in typically snobbish fish-fashion, they would not comply. Jerks.

Later the four of us reconvened for a picnic in the shade. We began by sitting on a blanket, ’cause that’s how picnics are supposed to be enjoyed, but, finding our area being taken over by ants (they were there first, I suppose), we removed to a nearby bench. Jennifer noted that this is probably why picnic benches were invented.

After supping, we took a short walk through one of the trails. We were looking for some picturesque places to photograph Isla. She, however, continually balked at being set on the ground or made to stand in grassy areas. Oh well.